Lorelei stretched out on one of the sofas, her feet propped on a pillow. The little calico cat nested on the woman’s belly—a belly not yet showing the slightest indication of a baby bump.
“A catamount is a mountain lion, a cougar. Legend says that a couple of hundred years ago, there was a huge boulder on a tiny island in the middle of the lake that resembled a snarling cougar. I haven’t been here long enough to see it firsthand, but that’s the story.
“Kamaka, I feel like I’m putting the dog out before bedtime by sending you to rough it. We have plenty of room—you don’t need to bunk out in the cabin. Even the cat stays in at night. Since we seem to have somehow acquired a cat.”
Callie purred under Lorelei’s hand.
“Miss Lorelei, it’s not a hardship, believe me. Rough it? The cabin is twelve hundred square feet, kitchen, bathroom, gang shower, my choice of eight beds, satellite television. It even has heat. My previous apartment was six hundred square feet and there were always weird people hangin’ out. Present company excepted, of course. Not that I’m complaining, Miss Keko, boss lady.” He grinned. ” Aloha po. Good night. See you in the morning.”
Keko waggled her fingers. ” Aloha po to you, too. Sweet dreams.”
Lorelei’s eyes followed the big jovial man as he disappeared. “What’s his deal?”
“What do you mean, his deal?” The cat switched allegiances, hopped to Keko’s lap. “Hey, critter, how do you know I even like you?”
“Trust me, she doesn’t care, as long as you pet her. I mean, the dude is a screaming queen, yet well schooled and well spoken when he’s not spoofing people with his homeboy island dialect. An expert in explosives and demolition, hangin’ out with a single, presumably hetero, woman. Seems an odd combo, that’s all.”
Keko felt her hackles rise in defense of her best friend. “You have a problem with Kamaka?”
“Are you kidding? Hell no, he’s a hoot. I already love the guy to pieces. Lucian is all right with him, but I’m not sure about Adam. Our alpha lad may take some finessing.” Lorelei grinned. “Which could be fun.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I can’t manage to keep any one guy for more than thirty seconds, let alone two men forever. Plus a career? Plus a baby on the way?
Damn.” Keko frowned at the insistent cat, who cared not at all about Keko’s problems.
“Believe me, relationships and motherhood were not even penciled in on the short list imprinted on my government-issued brain. But Adam and Lucian? Kismet.
Destiny. It’s tough to explain. I guess the simple version is that each of us complements the others. I lived alone quite comfortably, worked my ass off at my job, gave my all to the FBI, the CIA, then to the NCS. Now, I can’t even contemplate being alone again. Not ever.”
Lorelei rubbed her still-flat belly. “Seeing the guys with a baby should be a laugh riot. After visiting North Carolina for a couple of weeks, surrounded by the insane antics of his lunatic family, I know Lucian will be a natural. His thundering herds of nieces and nephews adore their Uncle Lucian like nothing I’ve ever seen before. He even changes diapers like a pro, forms his own assembly line.”
She laughed. “Adam, not so much. He’ll need to work on his parenting skills. But he’s so happy … .” A liquid shine highlighted Lorelei’s soft brown eyes. “So happy.”
Keko felt a lump in her throat, found it difficult to respond to such honest emotion. She finally managed a weak smile. “I’m beat. Sorry to be the party pooper, but this tired camper is headed for bed. And thanks again for putting us up in your home.
This place is truly awesome.”
“Hell, I’m right behind you as far as bed goes. I’m glad you like the digs, but I can’t take any credit. The boys told me that they upgraded the outbuildings when they bought the place, but kept all the original architecture. They extended the scope of the outdoor facilities, had the firing range installed in the underground training room. One of Lucian’s sisters, Julia the designer, handled the entire interior. The guys even have a housekeeping service. I could get to be a seriously lazy bitch.”
Lorelei stood, brushed the last of the sugar cookie crumbs from her lap. The cat jumped ship once again, launched off Keko’s lap to search out the morsels.
“Besides, are you kidding? Having another woman in the house in the midst of this hotbed of male hormones—you’re doing me a favor. Plus, with Kamaka here for protection, the two Musketeers felt comfortable enough to leave for the evening. I actually get to stretch out in my own bed with no big hard bodies squishing me. For a few hours, at least. Not that I’m complaining, but after our trip to the Duquesne family’s madcap central, I’ve had my fill of people for a while. Forced togetherness can be a trifle wearing on the nerves for someone like me, happily raised an only child. Nighty-night.”
As exhausted as she was, try as she might to clear her mind, Keko couldn’t settle in. I’m an only child, too. Yet, she heard the happiness in Lorelei’s voice, felt the aura of contentment that surrounded the strikingly beautiful Special Agent. Lorelei’s men—her lovers—not only adored her, but it was obvious they truly cared for her. They didn’t spoil her, exactly, but they did cosset their mate, and mother-to-be. Lucian seemed the caregiver of the trio, and no doubt, Adam’s role was the protector. There would be no saving whoever tried to harm his woman. Their woman.
Damn, how does Lorelei balance the best of all worlds? I can’t even balance my freakin’
checkbook.
Keko finally pounded her pile of pillows into a comfortable mound. She relaxed enough to slide into lullaby land, surrounded by the ambient glow of the starry starry night sky, shining through wide windows and well-placed skylights.
She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, when loud grunts and groans echoed through the lodge, followed by the pissed off yowl of a cat.
Now what? Keko slid into her robe, grabbed the borrowed Smith & Wesson revolver from her panty drawer.
Lorelei beat Keko to the gallery railing, a Walther PPK hanging from her hand.
She hit a light switch, glanced over the railing—then pointed down to the illuminated great room. “Keek, I think you need to deal with this one.”
Keko pulled her robe tighter, leaned over the railing as far as she could without falling.
“Oh, for fuck sake. Kamaka, please put the nice Marine down. Don’t break him or they won’t let us stay.”
Kamaka had Lucian in a bear hug from behind. For all his considerable strength and skill, Lucian could not break free.
Like a big lazy lion, Adam leaned against the doorjamb between kitchen and great room with arms and legs crossed. “I came through first. He caught Lucian bringing up the rear.”
The Hawaiian didn’t even break a sweat while Lucian struggled. “I was scoping my last recon, y’know, Miss Keko. Heard someone sneaky-sneaky ‘round the back. Not sneaking so well—made enough noise to wake the ancestors. Normal people use the front door in their own house, right?”
Kamaka looked up. “Sorry, Miss Lorelei. I think I scared your cat, maybe a little bit.”
“Yeah, well, the cat’s on her own. You for sure scared the blue livin’ shit outa me!”
Keko felt the heat creep to her cheeks. “My fault, sorry. After my dad died, I persuaded Kamaka to move into the main house with me. He always does a last perimeter check before he feels comfortable enough to bed down for the night.”
She thought Lucian’s skin color didn’t look so good. “Kamaka, let Lucian go. He’s turning blue.”
When the big Hawaiian didn’t move, Keko gave him The Look. The squinty-eyed, cocked eyebrow, I’m going to beat you to a bloody pulp with a tire-iron or die in the attempt look. Like the barely five-foot tall, hundred-five-pound Keko could force Kamaka-the-man-mountain to do anything. “Don’t fucking a-well make me march down the freakin’
steps, fella! Drop the Marine … right … this … minute!”
With a dramatic sigh, Kamaka unfolded his massive arms. Luc
ian sucked in a huge gulp of air as his feet hit the floor.
“Keerist on a fucking popsicle stick. Damn. He about broke my ribs.” Lucian moved his shoulders and arms experimentally, checked for damage.
“Shit, may have cracked something.” Lucian glanced over at Adam. “Ah’m here ta tell ya, hoss, that boy is some kinda wicked strong. Strong like a freakin’ tank. And by the way, bro, thanks for the assist.”
Adam shook his head, mustache drooped, expression sad. “Duquesne, ol’ buddy, you’re beginning to worry me. This is the second time you’ve been taken captive. In our own home. The first time, by a woman half your size. You’re losin’ your edge, boy.”
“Fuck off, Stone.” Lucian continued to test body parts to make sure they were functional.
“Fellas, enough with the mutual admiration society. I’ve had all the excitement I can deal with for one night.” Lorelei glanced at the wall clock. “For one morning.”
She pointed at her men.
“Your own beds tonight, boys.” Patting her belly, she added, “Junior and I need restorative sleep.”
Keko agreed with the bed comment, although she didn’t need to warn anyone that she intended to sleep alone—she didn’t have any suitable candidates lined up to share her bed.
“Kamaka, promise to play nicely with the other children so I can go back to sleep.” When the big man didn’t respond, she arrowed a lethal glare at him. “Well?”
Kamaka grinned up at his boss and best friend. “Promise, Miss Keko.”
Before Keko turned back to her room, she watched the man mountain gently pat Callie on the head as he headed for the kitchen and the back door—again. “Sorry, cat.
Next time, stay out of the way.”
Keko shook her head at the conundrum that was Kamaka, then headed to bed.
Chapter Four
Sunday morning
After a quick breakfast with Kamaka, Keko grabbed up her map. “I’m heading out to the camp. Are you coming with me, or staying here?”
Kamaka popped the last piece of bacon in his mouth, talked while he chewed.
“Staying here. If you can handle the stuff at the cabin, Lucian said I could use the big screens this morning. He’ll go through the FBI results with me, the stuff that Agent Chandler forwarded to us. Did you see all the intel toys Lucian has? Outstanding!”
Keko had laughed aloud when Kamaka modeled the black Darth Vader helmet he’d found on a wall-to-wall shelving unit in the satcom center, which was stocked as well as a computer superstore. Shaking her head at their silliness in the midst of potential death and destruction, she left the boys to play with their toys.
At Smitty’s cabin, Keko examined the explosive device components more closely.
The agents had nicknamed the bomb The Larsson. The label caused Keko an emotional twinge every time someone said it, but she knew they meant it as a sign of respect.
Since she’d been introduced as Keko Holokai, the agents were unaware she was the only surviving Larsson. She intended to keep it that way.
The apparatus of the device had been laid out with great precision on the workbench, apparently in preparation for assembly. It was a complicated piece, with redundant fail-safes. Yeah, fail-safes. A terrible term for ensuring the bomb detonates, regardless of what we do to shut down the mechanism. A terrible term to underscore the certainty that people will be killed, maimed, or mangled, despite our best efforts.
Keko photographed and diagrammed every circuit, every component, every tiny screw and length of wire for her own files, even though the FBI had completely processed the scene. Special Agent in Charge Will Chandler finally arrived, showed her what they had so far. Gentleman that he was, he even presented her with a whole grain pita pocket stuffed with chicken-pecan-white-grape-salad and yogurt dressing, from the diner in town. They sat in Adirondack chairs on Smitty’s front porch and ate.
“I don’t know how you people sit on these blasted hard seats. My ass falls asleep.” Chandler shifted again and grunted to prove his point.
“This situation doesn’t make sense. All our file data, all our interviews, indicate Smith wasn’t the type to work with insurgents against his own country. A dyed-in-the-wool patriot, always had been. Lied about his age to enlist in the Army when he was fifteen, got caught, had to wait until he was legal. The guy was a hero. I don’t see him being a turncoat. That dog just won’t hunt.”
“Sorry, Agent Chandler. I can only help with the device—I’m no good at profiling. That was my … that was more John’s forte.”
“Sonofabitch. I’m sorry, Ms. Holokai, this must be torture. We get so wrapped up in the who-done-its that we forget how personal this is to you.”
Keko fought the tears, but they came anyway. “Thanks. He was … like … a father to me.” And I miss him so much, sometimes I can’t breathe. She tried for a smile when he patted her hand, but they were both uncomfortable with the emotions.
“I’m fine. Really. I suggest you run any theories past Kamaka, though. His insights border on frighteningly accurate.”
“I’ll take him up on that. Great tat, by the way.”
Keko had worn a backless, sky-blue, summer halter-top that showed the brilliantly inked tattoo in its entirety, when she had her long hair pinned up. Which she’d done, to prevent any stray hairs from contaminating the components. “Thanks.”
Chandler excused himself, headed inside the main cabin to confer with his men; Keko returned to the shop. She had several lengths of wire under a lighted high-powered magnifying lens, when she heard a knock against the doorframe, presumably Chandler, announcing his return.
“Chandler, there’s something about the composition of these wires—”
Before she could turn, strong arms wrapped around her. Before she could react, she caught a faint, barely-there aroma, the sweet woody scent of wintergreen. Her heartbeat instantly kicked up spikes on the chart.
“Damn it, MacBride, what do you think you’re—?”
” Shh. Hush, Ms. Kailani Holokai Larsson, explosives expert with the incredible tattoo and who smells like wild honeysuckle. I did my homework. It took some digging, then Lucian verified, so I didn’t ask the wrong people the wrong questions. You’re the real deal. Impressive. John Larsson’s daughter. Imagine that.”
“The real deal? Is that right? Is that what I am? You are such a jerk. Let me go or I’ll … .”
“For instance, I now know that both your names derive from seafarers, from the sea, the sky. You’re a water baby, with the strength of the oceans.” He pulled her against him, her back to his front, his muscled arms holding her captive as he nuzzled the black hair she had trapped in a mother-of-pearl barrette shaped like a leaping dolphin.
“Damn, I missed this. I missed you, Kailani of the sea. I didn’t know how to find you.
I’ve been going crazy trying to dig up a lead, any lead. Why did you jackrabbit out of L.A.? Why bail out in such a hurry? Those were the best ten hours of my entire life! My God, it feels so good to hold you again.”
She struggled in his arms. “I said let go of me or else—”
“Or else what? You’ll take sexual advantage of me? Again?” He shifted to pin her with his groin, sandwiched her against the sturdy workbench. “Little hellcat.”
She felt his erection through his uniform trousers, his stiff cock pressed against her. Damn it all to hell, her sex heated to flash point so fast any hint of common sense flew out the window. A traitorous groan escaped before she could prevent it. How the hell does he manage to light my fire at warp-speed?
His hands on her shoulders, MacBride tried to turn her to face him.
She resisted. “No. This way.”
“What?”
“I said, take me this way.”
“You’re crazy.”
“That’s possible. Do it now. Quickly. Before someone walks in.”
MacBride hesitated, so she rubbed her ass slowly, sensually, against his solid erection. “Now or not at all, sailor boy.�
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“I’ll sailor boy you.” He shoved her shorts and panties to her ankles. She heard his zipper as he released his cock to press against her, as hard and as thick as she remembered. Leaning forward, his mouth brushed her ear, whispered. “Forget sailor boy. I liked it better when you cried ooh baby as you came on my cock. And came. And came.” He reached between her thighs and fingered her. “Damn, girl, you’re already wet for me.”
“Stop talking!” She nearly hissed in her frustration, unable to disguise the raw naked yearning in her voice, pissed off at herself for falling victim to his presence.
She heard him rip open a condom packet; two seconds later, he’d buried his lubricated shaft in her hot flesh. In her hot, needy flesh. Once again, he stretched her to the limit, that delicious burn as perfect as she remembered.
MacBride pulled back enough to slide his arm around and under her pelvis, reached her clit with long strong fingers, as the tender lips of her labia unfolded and clung tightly to his shaft. He rolled the bud between forefinger and thumb, then sharply tapped his fingertip against the nerve bundle above the hood of the swollen nub. Again.
And again.
” Omigod, sweet Jesus, whatever you just did, do it again, I’m right there, baby, I need to come on your cock, I missed this … .” Oh shit, did I just say that out loud? She wriggled her hips against him. Maybe he didn’t hear me. Maybe he’s too busy. Maybe … oh shit, oh sweet Christ!
He slid his hands under the sides of her backless halter-top and over her high firm breasts, kneaded the stiff points of her nipples. Then reached down, rolled, and flicked her clit again.
With no pillow to muffle the sound, she thrust her forearm against her mouth to keep from screaming his name as she came. His orgasm burst free a few seconds later, as her pussy walls gripped his shaft. He grasped her waist, pumped into her until there was nothing left except the harsh sound of their hoarse breathing.
Keko rested her elbows on the workbench, while she willed her pulse to slow.
Bombshell - Men of Sanctuary Series, Book Three Page 5