Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Strong Men [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  Marsh had never been able to understand those who refused to make the most of the blessings they’d been given.

  The automated voice on the navigation device warned of his next two turns, a right followed almost immediately by a left. Marsh maneuvered the sports car around the corners flawlessly. He smiled with pleasure as a sense of power and entitlement filled him.

  Counterstrike would be a success, and when the single casualty was announced, he would step forward and play the outraged and righteous seeker of justice to the hilt. Of course, they would then bring Ramos down. Then, all he would need would be one more successful operation. Spearhead the vigorous prosecution of Miguel Ramos on the charge of assassination of an American federal agent, and the position he coveted would fall into his lap.

  Marsh brought the Ferrari to a smooth stop along the curb, adjacent to where he needed to be. Taking a moment, he removed his tie and checked his appearance in the mirror on the visor. He combed a few fingers through his slightly-longer-than-regulation-length hair, and the transformation to business casual was complete.

  Marsh scooped his Kindle, locked the car behind him, and headed toward a park bench.

  He gave the area a quick visual sweep, his lawyer’s eye for detail missing nothing. Kudos to Davies for choosing this spot. Some distance from the designated play areas, they’d be assured of privacy. The bench he sat on was the only one close to the curb, and that was a plus, too. So a few minutes later when a younger man ambled up with a cup of coffee and paper sack from a takeout eatery, and sat down on the other end of the bench, anyone looking would think nothing more beyond the obvious.

  “Well?” Marsh had barely acknowledged the man who’d sat down, and then to all appearances returned to his reading.

  “I’m in.”

  “No problems?”

  “Just the usual. Ramos didn’t trust me at first, of course. He questioned how I alone had been able to escape the net that scooped up the others. I explained that Preston Rogers routinely had me cruise around while he and his men conducted business. I told him that when I saw the op go down and the cops move in, I was able to just drive by and keep on going.

  “And the information you gave him?”

  “He didn’t trust it right away, either, so he had me cool my heels in El Paso. Apparently, he’s now satisfied that I have told him the truth. You can tell Special Agent Alvarez that Miguel Ramos swallowed the bait. He’s pissed and is looking for revenge, and having studied the bastard, I can tell you he’ll likely move sooner, rather than later.” The man shook his head. “I’ve worked undercover for years, and what Alvarez has volunteered to do—offer himself as an open target—is the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Marsh managed to keep the distaste he felt from showing on his face. People like Peter Alvarez and Lorne Davies didn’t understand that their purpose in life was to be the soldiers, mindless drones who, if necessary, died for the greater good. It seemed they constantly had delusions of significance.

  Men like Alvarez and Davies hadn’t been born to lead, but to follow.

  “Is Ramos putting you to work in his organization?”

  Davies laughed. “Yeah. As a driver in El Paso.” He shrugged. “But I’ve been able to capitalize on that, because even men like Ramos don’t see me for who I am. He thinks I’m just hired muscle, with no brain attached. He had me followed from the airport, but I had no difficulty losing the tail. Once I head back, I’ll have to be off the radar again, at least until he trusts me enough to give me a bit of freedom.”

  “That’s perfect. I would prefer that you maintain your cover. Do not check in with, or contact anyone in the Dallas field office. I’ve just come from a meeting. The division chiefs think there’s a leak, because word of our last ops got out before it happened. So let’s keep you completely under the radar. We don’t want any of the locals to know about you.”

  Though Davies didn’t give any outward signs, his voice reflected concern. “You suspect someone on the task force has sold out?”

  “I don’t. I think it was someone on the Dallas PD who boasted to his amigos about what an important job he was assigned to. Still, let’s err on the side of being prudent. I believe in “need to know,” and no one on the task force needs to know at the moment that we have you on the inside of Ramos’s organization. If for some reason our greater operation fails, then we’ll still have you, our ace in the hole.” Marsh knew he could be convincing when he needed to be. “Continue to work your way in, Agent Davies. You’ve done it before, and very effectively. No one knew you’d been planted with Rogers. No one needs to know you’re now with Miguel Ramos.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Davies appeared to finish his lunch, then got up, dumped his trash in a nearby container, and ambled on his way.

  Templeton Marsh continued to sit and read, a man enjoying a peaceful interlude. When fifteen minutes had passed, he closed the cover on his Kindle, then headed back to the Ferrari.

  He was scheduled to return to Washington the next day. He’d go back to the hotel suite Calderon had supplied for him, and see if the man had arranged any other little perks for his pleasure. And he’d start working on the press release announcing the death of a Special Agent of the DEA, a brave man who’d fallen in the line of duty.

  Like Lorne Davies, Templeton Marsh had studied Ramos, too, and had no doubt that Peter Alvarez’s future truly had been reduced to days, if not hours.

  Chapter 10

  I feel like a wife.

  Liking the sensation, Tracy hummed while she worked. Peter had returned from his meeting a couple of hours before, and they’d all spent the rest of the afternoon exploring each others’ bodies. I guess everything I’ve ever heard about afternoon delights was true. She’d definitely seen skyrockets.

  Tracy sighed. She’d never felt so good. She wanted to do something nice for the ones who’d put the smile on her face and the hum in her throat. Putting together this simple meal for the three of them came so naturally, she could focus her thoughts inward without taking anything away from the preparation of the food.

  They’d all decided to eat in instead of getting dressed to go out. And while both men had immediately volunteered to make dinner, she’d wanted not only the opportunity to care for them in this very traditional “female” way, but she’d needed the few minutes to herself performing this task would give her.

  The pork and rice casserole baked, and the broccoli steamed. She’d decided to complete the simple meal with chocolate. Nothing beat mixing a cake by hand to free the spirit and aid in contemplation.

  Tracy turned her head and raised her shoulder so she could inhale the scent of Jordan that clung to the tee shirt that just barely covered her. She’d bounded out of bed and scooped the garment before he’d had a chance to slip it back on.

  She’d never had the opportunity to wear a lover’s shirt before, never enjoyed this part of romance. Okay, maybe she was being a little premature, thinking of what the three of them had together as romance. But she couldn’t help it. That’s how it seemed to her heart.

  Tracy felt her arousal twitch inside her. She couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Since she’d become old enough to have sex, she’d read everything she could get her hands on about having sex. Her reasoning had been simple—but a little more complex than she’d told the men, earlier. She had believed that with enough knowledge, when the moment finally arrived, she would know what to do and how to do it. There’d be no surprises, and her lover—or lovers, because she’d been completely prepared to take on not just Jordan but also the man he loved—wouldn’t have to suffer the touch of an untutored woman.

  It was all Tracy could do not to laugh out loud at her own naïveté. Boy, did I ever have everything figured so totally off the mark.

  Yes, she had been both naïve and wrong, because there had been surprises, and joy in discovery, and her lovers appeared to crave her touch, untutored or not.

  “Now that is one hell of a sexy smile. I
bet I know what you’re thinking about.”

  The sound of Jordan’s voice pulled her attention away from inner space. She turned her gaze toward him and encountered both of her lovers, standing side by side, just inside the door to the kitchen. Shirtless, sporting only jeans and bare feet, they wore some pretty sexy grins themselves. They also made her heart race and her juices flow.

  She tilted her head to one side. “Oh yeah? What am I thinking about?”

  “Us, of course.” Jordan folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame. “You were thinking about all the wild and wonderful things the three of us are going to do together over the next couple of days.”

  Since they hadn’t spoken about how much time they’d have together, and since both men were grinning, she figured something was up.

  “Hmm, I thought we’d already covered all the high points.” Tracy thought she must surely be aglow from inner happiness. How often had she longed to engage in this kind of intimate banter?

  “I didn’t get a chance to tell you when I got back from my meeting, earlier,” Peter said. He mimicked Jordan’s pose, leaning against the opposite door frame. “The task force I was working with has been put on hold. There’s been some kind of bureaucratic snafu among the upper management of the different agencies.”

  “Politics.” Tracy shook her head. “Even in our national law enforcement agencies. What a sad, sad commentary on our times.”

  “Hey”—Peter grinned—“I really hate to disillusion you, but it’s more a case of ‘politics, especially in our national law enforcement agencies’. Anyway, when I transferred from DC to Dallas, I didn’t use up my vacation time first, which now, apparently, I am being asked to do.”

  Tracy wondered about the tiny flicker of something she thought she saw in Peter’s eyes. But it was there, and then gone so quickly that she figured she must have imagined it.

  “So you’re going to have time to play. That’s nice. I wish I could get some more time off work, myself, but it’s really out of the question. I have Monday off, of course, because the restaurant is closed on Mondays. Tuesday as well, as it’s my other regular day off. But then I have to be back at work on Wednesday.”

  “You don’t have to worry about counting the hours, sweetheart,” Jordan said, “because Peter and I, of course, have a plan. Since I’m still working on putting together my crew and nailing down all the final details for that complex I’ve been contracted to build on the outskirts of Waco, and you do have to go to work, too, we thought it might be easier all around if we relocate this party to my house in Lusty.”

  Tracy felt her heart kick into high gear. “You’ve barely moved any furniture into that place. I thought you weren’t planning on living there for awhile, yet.” She knew the house well. It had been built at the edge of town by his great-uncle Grayson Jessop, and had been empty since that elderly gentleman had passed a few years before. Jordan and his great-uncle had enjoyed a close relationship, and it was no one’s surprise that Grayson had wanted his favorite nephew to have the first choice at moving into his home. Jordan, of course, had snapped up the opportunity. Tracy knew he’d always loved that house.

  Jordan smiled. “Well, that’s true. I hadn’t made plans to move in this soon, and there’s not much there. But there’s a Kendall-sized bed, the spa attached to the master bedroom is state of the art and ready to go, and the kitchen is furnished with not only table and chairs but cookware. And since you helped me do some of the painting and renovating, I thought you’d be comfortable there. If, that is, you wanted to bring a few things over and stay with us for a while.”

  He thought she’d be comfortable there? That house had been at the center of her dreams ever since Jordan had been given permission to call it his own. As she’d helped him paint and renovate she’d done so in the hope that someday she’d live there herself. That house represented her own personal Holy Grail! How many times, late in the evening, had she driven past the place, or driven to it and just sat in her car, looking at it. Imagining. Dreaming.

  Tracy blinked and met the gazes of her two lovers. Both looked at her with almost identical expressions of waiting on their faces.

  “Yes. I’d like that. Actually, I’d like that a lot.”

  She thought Jordan looked more than pleased—he looked relieved.

  “It doesn’t take long to commute back and forth between Lusty and Waco.” Jordan left his post by the door and came toward her. “I’ll be meeting with subcontractors and finalizing a few more new hires, a process that will last at least a week but will entail only short days, for the most part. So we’ll have lots of time together.” He stopped mere inches from her.

  She returned his smile, and because she could, went up on her toes and gave him a quick, chaste kiss on the lips.

  “So, honey, what’s for dinner?” Peter approached her, maneuvering so that she was in her favorite spot, sandwiched between the men. “Whatever it is smells scrumptious. But then”—his voice dipped lower, and he leaned forward and sniffed—“so do you.”

  Tracy felt her arousal begin to stir. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jordan reach out a finger to scoop some cake batter.

  When she whipped the bowl out of reach, both men laughed. Tracy’s heart melted more than a little bit. Until that moment she hadn’t realized how endearing “playful” could be.

  “Never mind what we’re having for dinner. You best worry about getting that table set, gentlemen, or I’ll feed this dinner to the dog.”

  “We don’t have a dog, sweetheart.” Jordan laughed.

  “Neither did I, growing up, but that fact never diminished my mother’s threat, now did it?”

  “I have to admit you’re right. Whenever Aunt Heather said those words, we all jumped to it.” Jordan leaned in and returned her kiss, and then gave Peter a lighthearted swat. “Come on, boyfriend, let’s set the table. The dads are always saying, when your woman’s happy, everyone is happy.”

  Tracy chuckled as the men went in search of plates and cutlery, playfully shoving each other, and blaming the other for the failure of the great cake-batter theft caper. She turned back to finishing the dessert, cherishing the hope that had begun to bloom in her heart.

  They’d spent just under twenty-four hours as lovers, and already, at least it seemed so to her, they felt like a family.

  No, she acknowledged in the next breath. They felt like her family.

  * * * *

  Had he moved them to this point too fast? Jordan unlocked the door to his house on the outskirts of Lusty, and waited for his lovers to enter before doing so himself.

  “Wait until you see this!” Tracy, obviously excited, grabbed Peter’s hand and dragged him up the stairs.

  When Peter looked back at him, Jordan just chuckled and waved him on. Letting Tracy have her fun would give him a few moments to collect himself. Besides, he could hear them, and that was enough of a connection for the moment.

  He found a particular kind of pleasure in standing back and letting his lovers explore the home he’d held off moving into for so long.

  Jordan knew his reasons for that delay, if spoken aloud, would probably sound silly to his lovers. His great-uncle Grayson had built this house with the encouragement and blessing of the Town Trust so that he could provide a home for the family everyone had expected him to make. At least, that had been what everyone had believed he would do.

  Grayson had once confessed to Jordan that he’d gotten carried away with the ruse, making the place larger than necessary. And a ruse it had been, for Grayson had never had any intention of settling down, making a family, or producing heirs.

  Despite the fact that he’d been born and raised in Lusty, despite knowing the family history, Grayson Jessop had been a man totally uncomfortable in his own skin. He’d never been able to believe with all his heart that he could find a woman who really would be all right with being a part of a bisexual ménage, or a man who would accept sharing him with a woman. He’d been so t
orn with reconciling his bisexual nature that, in the end, he’d lived celibate and alone.

  Jordan could certainly relate to that dilemma.

  It was only in his last few years that his uncle had regretted the choices he’d made in life. He’d told Jordan that he’d really just been too cowardly to reach out and grab what he’d wanted most in life, and had thereby let his chance for love, and family, slip through his fingers.

  On his deathbed, Grayson had extracted a promise from Jordan—that he wouldn’t make the same mistake, denying himself the chance for true happiness.

  So Jordan avoided moving in, setting up house, as it were, because he hadn’t wanted to do so alone. He hadn’t wanted to risk turning into another member of the family who’d taken residence as a “bachelor gentleman.” And yes, a part of him had always doubted, as his uncle had doubted, that this kind of a family could last for the long haul. If he never tried, he couldn’t fail.

  Not altogether ungrounded fears, he supposed, all things considered.

  “Holy shit, Kendall. I freaking love this place!” Peter came down the stairs and strode over to him. “This has got to be the most perfect house I’ve ever seen. I especially like those trophies you’ve put up on shelves in the hallway outside the bedroom. Sharpshooting champion? You never told me you were a marksman. Spill it, boyfriend.”

  Jordan actually felt himself blush. “I entered a few competitions in my younger days,” he said. When Peter continued to stare at him, he said, “Okay. I was all-state champion in high school, and I continued to compete well into college. During my stint with the National Guard, I earned top marksman rating. I still go out and shoot, though I don’t compete anymore.”

  “No fun winning all the time?” Peter grinned.