Love Under Two Accountants [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  “I don’t really care about what you’re doing here, Mr. Quest—unless the reason for your presence signifies a possible danger to the good citizens of my town.”

  Damion thought his concern reasonable. “It depends on your definition of the word, ‘citizen.’”

  Kendall met his gaze, and Damion knew, without doubt, he gave nothing away. So, it did shock him when he cursed low under his breath. He leaned forward, arms folded on the table. “Damn it to hell. I told Jake there was something about those two accountants.”

  Damion made a split-second decision. He’d been sent there as a precaution, a just-in-case kind of move on the part of Porter Wells, in response to a situation that really was part hypothetical but completely fluid.

  “Not FBI…they said they had no interest in working for the FBI. CIA doesn’t operate inside the U.S.—or so they say. So that leaves the NSA.”

  Damion felt one eyebrow rise. “I can neither confirm nor deny. That said, I think it might be a good idea for us to have a chat somewhere more secure.”

  Adam Kendall nodded. “So do I. Right after we have lunch and you finish your pastries.”

  “Good call,” Peter Alvarez-Kendall said. “You make this man leave two of my wife’s pastries on the table, she’s likely to be a bit upset with you, Adam.”

  “By all means, let’s not upset the saint who created these cream puffs.” Damion appreciated the delay before they got down to business. It would give him the opportunity to figure out just how much he would reveal about the as-yet unfolding situation.

  Chapter Eleven

  All things considered, life in Lusty was pretty darn good. Bailey hummed as she stood by the bar, waiting for Lacey to fill her tray. The supper crowd was pretty much as expected for a Monday night—busy. More than half of the guests sitting in the dining room were people Bailey recognized. She’d always been good with names. She recognized those who were repeat diners and those who usually only came in on a Monday because the restaurant in town was closed on that day.

  For the first time since her mother died, Bailey James felt as if she truly belonged someplace. She belonged at Angel’s Roadhouse, and she belonged right here in Lusty, Texas.

  What about those two accountants? Don’t you belong with them? They’ll be heading back to New York as soon as Lusty bores them. Then what are you going to do? Bailey shushed the voice of her inner Debbie Downer. Neither she nor those two men had spoken of vows or promises or forever. They hadn’t even said the “L” word.

  And really, how could any of them have done so? Yes, she believed she belonged here in this small Texas town, but that was all the permanent change she was ready to handle at the moment. She’d gone from carrying a heavy burden in caring for her mother to living a life of rut-like routine, and then had ended up smack-dab in the middle of a dangerous situation.

  One good thing about everything she’d learned from Chance and Logan about what had really happened in New York? She no longer chastised herself for being a coward and running away just because things got a little scary.

  In this case, running away might very well have saved her life.

  Three opened bottles of beer appeared on her tray. “You look like a woman who’s found her bliss.” Laci Benedict winked and then put the rest of the beverage order on her tray—two Cokes, a glass of red wine, and a large glass of chocolate milk.

  Bailey felt the blood rushing to her cheeks. She might not be a full redhead, but she sure blushed like one. She met her friend’s gaze and dared to be cheeky. “Mmm hmm, why yes, I did, at least three times last night and twice this morning.”

  “I’d call you a braggart, except I can definitely relate. There’s just something about those Benedict men.”

  Here was something she’d never experienced, a sense of sisterhood with another woman. Bailey grinned. “Do you think it’s something in the genes?”

  “How’re you spelling ‘genes’ girlfriend? With a ‘g’ or a ‘j’?”

  Bailey laughed, mentally admitting there was no help for the blushing. The door to the outside opened, and two Benedicts entered, the ones whose bed Bailey was currently sharing.

  “I’ll let them know which section is yours tonight. Go on and deliver those drinks.”

  It was common for Chance and Logan to show up while she was working, but she wasn’t the only staff member in that situation. Laci’s husbands, Trace and Lucas, could be counted to drop by at some point most days Laci was on duty.

  Bailey didn’t know much about the tall, dark, and handsome cowboy, Ricoh Stone, who often joined Angela here, especially if the boss lady was working weekend nights. As far as she knew, the two split their time between Angela’s new house, hidden away in the trees beside the roadhouse’s parking lot, and the foreman’s house at the Benedict North ranch.

  Connections. This roadhouse, this town, they’re all about connections. Bailey thought that she just might have stumbled upon the most important principle at work in the small town she now called home. Family was at the core of everything in Lusty, and what was family but the most basic connection of all?

  Bailey served the drinks Laci had put on her tray, swung past her lovers, took their orders, and the orders from a couple of other tables, then headed back to the bar, where she delivered those orders—the drinks to Laci and the food orders into the computer. Then she moved on into the kitchen. Johnny Joe was their cook tonight because Patrick had the night off, and he was assisted by Kym. JJ wasn’t much for chatter, but he could cook up some of the juiciest burgers Bailey had ever tasted. The two members of the kitchen staff worked well together. Bailey loaded the readied supper plates onto her tray and then headed back out into the dining room, smiling and nodding and chatting as she set dinners before hungry customers.

  Bailey had discovered long ago that with most jobs—be it serving food or various office chores—there was a rhythm. Once she found the rhythm to the work, the task at hand became just a matter of moving to the rhythm.

  She kept up the motions, dining room to bar to kitchen and back again, until the supper crowd morphed into the after-supper crowd. By that time, her men had been joined by three others. Two of them—Adam Kendall and Joe Grant—she knew. She had no idea who the third gentleman was, but she figured she was about to find out. Her own supper break was on tap, and she picked up her burger, poured herself some sweet tea, and headed on over to join what appeared to be a somewhat restrained conversation.

  The music hadn’t been turned up loud, yet. That would happen around eight or so. For the moment, conversation was possible without anyone having to shout to be heard. As she approached the table, Chance stood and made room for her in the booth. She slid in, happy to be sitting between Chance and Logan. That position was fast becoming her happy place.

  The extra-large booths featured at Angel’s Roadhouse easily accommodated all six of them. Mr. Grant must have drawn the short straw because he was in the corner on the other side. Sheriff Kendall was in the middle and faced her directly while the man she’d not yet met was at the end, facing Chance.

  “Bailey James, meet Damion Quest.”

  Bailey wondered that she knew Chance so well that she caught something slightly off in his tone of voice. Since she knew he wouldn’t introduce her to anyone she needed to fear—exactly—she extended her hand and nodded. “Mr. Quest.”

  “Damion’s been sent by our boss to kind of keep an eye on us—on all three of us.” Chance’s explanation, given in just that way in front of Adam Kendall and Joe Grant, made her heart pound as all her senses went on alert.

  “Something more has happened.”

  Mr. Quest looked toward Adam Kendall. Bailey caught the slight nod he gave the man and thought it was telling that of the three law enforcement people at the table, the man from the NSA deferred not to the other federal agent but to the local sheriff, who was, technically, out of his jurisdiction.

  Adam leaned forward. “We’ve been informed that the body of Gary Sharp has been di
scovered in his apartment. His death is considered a homicide.”

  Bailey’s appetite deserted her. She looked from Adam to Chance and then to Logan. Then she fixed her gaze back on the sheriff. Her men had taken her hands, and that was a good thing. She held tight, really tight, and they let her.

  She licked her lips. “How did he die?”

  Adam’s face was all business. She was reminded of that old TV cop show her mom used to watch called Dragnet. The main character would always say, in every episode, in the same monotone, “just the facts, ma’am.” Bailey had a feeling Adam was answering her question very precisely.

  “Preliminary examination pins his cause of death as a stab wound to the heart. He likely died instantly.”

  “Like Dirk.”

  Adam exhaled. “Yes, like your late boss. The autopsy should reveal if it was the same blade.”

  Bailey sat back and closed her eyes for a moment. Gary’s face appeared in her memory, a pleasant young man with an even disposition. “Poor Gary.” She opened her eyes and looked at all three of the men sitting across from her. “What the hell was Dirk involved in that some asshole would want to kill a sweet kid like Gary Sharp?”

  “We’re not certain.”

  Damion Quest said that. Bailey made eye contact with the man. She lowered her voice. “You’re NSA, so we’re not talking gang-related loan-sharking here, or even drugs.”

  The man’s expression never changed. “No, probably not, at least not at the heart of it, though drugs could have been involved at some point.”

  “Gary loved to hit the clubs, but I never saw any sign that he used drugs.” Bailey shrugged. “But I have to admit, I wouldn’t really know one way or another. To say I’ve lived a sheltered life would not be an exaggeration.”

  Damion’s expression became thoughtful. “We think it’s altogether possible that Gary was killed just because our unsub—unknown subject—was trying to find something in Townsend’s warehouse, something he undoubtedly expected to find and didn’t. Since the item was likely of high value, it probably would have been drugs, though it could have been weapons, somehow concealed within the crates.”

  Bailey shook her head. “Wouldn’t all of the crates have been inspected upon arrival in the States? Surely the customs agents would have found something like that.”

  The way the men all looked at each other made her uncomfortable. It was Adam who answered her—as if the question she’d asked had been perfectly legitimate, which she felt it was.

  “Normally, yes. I happen to know that the U.S. customs enforcement officers do a hell of a good job, most of the time. But it’s possible that one could be bribed, in which case…” He let the sentence end there.

  “See? I never thought of that. In my world, if you break the law, you get caught—every time. I never so much as lifted a candy bar when I was a kid because I was certain I’d get caught, and, of course, doing so would have really upset my mother.”

  “I believe that people expect to see what’s familiar to them. People who tend not to break the law never see the ways in which those who do, can.” Joe Grant shrugged. “Well, unless they’re trained to see the possibilities.”

  As interesting as this conversation was, Bailey heard loud and clear what these law men and her own lovers weren’t saying. “You think I’m in danger because Gary Sharp was murdered. I’m the last person connected to Dirk Townsend left standing, as it were. That your unsub may be looking for me because I’m the only one left. If he hasn’t found what he’s looking for, he’d assume I must have it.” Then it occurred to her that they might suspect she did have something to do with this case, after all. “I swear to you, I have no idea what Dirk was involved in, or what this man—this killer—could be looking for.”

  “We believe you,” Damion Quest said. “I personally think it’s more likely that Townsend had a silent partner, someone none of us even know about. Attempts to trace all of the man’s steps in the time he’s been under investigation, an investigation that began before his murder, have left large gaps of time unaccounted for. Times when he quite conceivably could have met with a person or persons unknown.”

  “More unsubs,” Bailey said. “How worried should I be about my safety?” She inhaled, licked her lips, and mentally braced herself. “Do I need to leave here?”

  “No.” Adam’s expression could only be called fierce. Logan and Chance reacted to her question by squeezing her hands a bit tighter. “Lusty is a small town. But it’s one that’s had to circle its wagons, over the last few years, more than once for one of our own.”

  Joe Grant chuckled. “You could say we have it down to a fine art. But there are precautions we need you to observe. One of them was bringing Mr. Quest here for you to meet, so you know he’s someone safe you can turn to if you need to.”

  “All right. So, the three of you are men I can trust.”

  “You can trust anyone in Lusty,” Adam said. “The town will be on alert, watchful of any strangers showing up.”

  Damion Quest snorted. “Your town already was on alert. I wasn’t here a half-hour when I had you two sitting down at my table in the restaurant.”

  Adam Kendall just grinned. “See? We’ve got this.”

  “You need to not go anywhere alone,” Joe Grant said. “We don’t know who we’re looking for or where he is. We don’t know what it is he’s after. This is a crappy situation, operationally speaking.”

  “You might consider bunking with the bean counters, here,” Damion said. “They do have some basic training, and it’ll be easier for all of us, logistically speaking, to only have to worry about one rabbit hole.”

  “A house is easier to protect than a single apartment in a building,” Adam said.

  Bailey wondered if Adam was speaking from experience at the same time she wondered just how Chance and Logan felt about being assigned as her roommates-slash-bodyguards.

  “We really want you with us,” Logan said. He lifted her hand and kissed it.

  “And not just for logistics.” Chance kissed the hand he held. Then he leaned in close, speaking softly. “If you’d rather have your own bedroom, we can do that. But we’d really rather you stay in ours.”

  Bailey wasn’t certain if the men across the table had heard that or not. Chance’s and Logan’s reactions had come swift enough, and sure enough, she knew they spoke the truth as they saw it. And as to this step, she’d already admitted she felt safer with them surrounding her at night—not to mention the wonderful sensual benefits of spending the night in a bed between them.

  “Okay. After work, we’ll swing by my apartment so I can grab some stuff.”

  She didn’t know what this change in living arrangements meant to their one-day-at-a-time game plan.

  Bailey guessed that was something she’d figure out, eventually. But there was one thing she didn’t have to think about. And as much as a part of her, a very large part, was jumping up and down with thanksgiving that there were so many people ready and willing to help keep her safe, her conscience simply wouldn’t let her remain silent.

  Chapter Twelve

  Chance shot a quick look at his brother. Yeah, Logan was as relieved as he felt, hearing Bailey agree to move in with them. They’d told Adam, Joe, and Damion at their meeting earlier that they were determined on this course of action, and not only—not even mainly—for safety reasons.

  They both wanted Bailey James in their lives, in their bed, permanently.

  It wasn’t only lust and love driving them. They might not be as well trained as the three cops sitting across from them, but Chance and Logan needed to do everything they could do to protect their woman.

  Whether Bailey James was ready to accept the fact or not, she was most definitely their woman.

  “There is just one thing.” Bailey sighed. She tugged, and Chance reluctantly let go of her hand. He noticed Logan had done the same.

  It felt as if his heart twisted in his chest, but he ignored the emotional pain and focused on Ba
iley. “What is it, baby?”

  She didn’t answer him. She gave her answer to Adam Kendall. “I can’t let you people put yourselves in danger on my account. If anything ever happened to any of you—well, I don’t know if I could live with it.”

  “We’re professionals,” Adam Kendall said. “It’s our job to protect others.”

  “Okay, fine. But you said the entire town would be on alert. That means the entire town would be in danger.”

  She looked at Chance and then over at his brother. He read determination, and for the first time since he and Logan had decided what would happen next, he got worried. Very worried.

  “I said we’ve made a fine art of this, Bailey, and those were honest words.” Joe Grant’s expression couldn’t appear more serious.

  “But I’m not one of yours. Why would you, any of you, want to risk everything for me?”

  “You most definitely are so one of ours.” Adam Kendall flashed a glance at him, and then he leaned forward and spoke directly to Bailey. “Maybe you don’t know how important you’ve already become to many of the good people of Lusty. I can tell you that Laci and Angela consider you theirs. So do Ginny, Jake, and I. And Grandma Kate?” He rolled his eyes slightly, and Chance had to wonder what memory crossed his face. He sat back and looked at Joe.

  Joe nodded. “Probably a good idea to tell a few tales.”

  Adam gave a half laugh that didn’t sound even remotely amused. “Where do I start? How about with my own wife? She came to Lusty as a single mom in trouble, drawn here by circumstances that were unpleasant, to say the least. She knew no one and literally had nothing except her young son, Benny. But this was where she was meant to be, and on that day when her tormentor arrived, determined to do her harm, the women of Lusty had her back—literally. Or I could talk about Laci’s sister-in-law, Ari. The man who tried to abduct her received a bullet in the leg, from Grandma Kate’s pistol, as his reward.”

  Then Adam took Bailey’s hands in his. He waited until she met his gaze. “Or I could tell you about the way a woman named Chloe Rhodes, very new to town but one of ours, regardless, found herself the hostage of a serial sex offender and ended up saving my life. Bailey, the truth is that Lusty draws people to her who need her. You’re here, when you’d had no real plan to land here. Coincidence? Destiny? Doesn’t matter. So, yes, you’re very much one of ours.”