Acres, Natalie - Cowboy Boots and Unsettled Debts [Cowboy Boots 3] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

by Natalie Acres

  Brantley sniffed. “I can’t think of anything that would concern you, Donovan.”

  Fowler’s mouth twitched and his lips tilted downward in an amusing expression. He slowly nodded his head as he focused on Brock, apparently interested in the other man’s rebuttal.

  “You might want to rethink that.” A beat later, Brock blurted, “Are you fucking her?”

  “What the…” Brantley felt his nostrils flare as the rage took hold. “Why in the hell would that be your business?”

  In a matter of seconds, they were toe-to-toe.

  “Want me to go over the list of reasons?” His jaw tightened. “Or how about I have you pulled off this case and transferred? I can, you know.”

  “You do and you hang us all out to dry,” Fowler said, immediately intervening.

  Brantley placed his palms forward and took a step backward. He gathered his composure. This was one fight he wasn’t about to engage. Brock had rank, seniority, and a war of words wasn’t worth the trouble. “Hang on there a minute, Brock. Let’s talk about this.”

  Brock clenched his teeth and balled his fists. Great, just what Brantley wanted to see, a pissed-off operative of equal strength.

  “You’re a senior agent with the Underground Unit. You’ve been before the committee advisors and informed of your pending status. You can’t be in bed with one of your fellow operatives if you’re in line for a leadership position!”

  “Who says I’m in bed with anyone?” Brantley fired back, deciding he wasn’t about to put up with Brock Donovan’s shit unless reprimand was justified.

  Besides, Brantley knew the story behind Brock’s hookup with Sydney Kane. He’d been hired to protect her and ended up seducing her. To make matters worse, Kane was the daughter of one of the Underground Unit’s founding fathers.

  “Are you fucking her or not?”

  “Talk about double standards,” Brantley grumbled.

  “You didn’t answer the question. Are you tapping that thing or not?”

  “What are you talking about?” Brantley asked, taunting him.

  “You are,” Brock accused.

  “You’re way off base here. If I were in Abby’s bed, she wouldn’t have been staring across the room at me. She would’ve been on my lap, which by the way is precisely where her cute little submissive ass belongs.”

  “Submissive, hell,” Fowler remarked.

  Brantley resisted laughing out loud. Fowler and the others shared his exact sentiments. The only pleasure any of them would take away from this job was seeing Abby play the willing submissive, assuming her little act didn’t go beyond foreplay.

  Brock jabbed his forefinger at Brantley’s chest. “You listen to me and you listen well.” He shot Fowler an abrupt glance. “Our unit is on leave. I want to go out of town without being called back to the farm. Your team is as qualified as any—”

  “More,” Fowler interrupted. He caught a stern glare from Brock, and he quickly added, “You didn’t ask for my two cents, but I’m giving it anyway. We’re professionals. We don’t need you or anyone else telling us all the ways this mission could fall apart.”

  “Mind your own business, Jennings,” Brock said firmly. “Let’s take a walk, Brantley.”

  Fowler snarled. “Don’t leave on my account. I have somewhere I need to be.” He walked away whistling. When he was almost out of sight, he turned around and shouted down the hall, “Hurry up, Brantley! Abby gets impatient when we keep her waiting!”

  Double doors opened and slammed behind him. Brantley rubbed the wide bridge of his nose with the back of his hand, a lame attempt to hide his grin.

  “You two think this is funny?”

  “No,” Brantley replied.

  Brock crossed his arms. “What’s your relationship with Abby?”

  “We’ve worked together for five years. What do you think?”

  “You care about her?”

  “Of course I care about her,” Brantley replied, walking over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the parking lot two stories below.

  “Are you pursuing her?”

  Brantley faced him. “That is none of your business.”

  “The hell it isn’t! Juraz Mendete is my business. His new resort will be right in my backyard. I don’t need to tell you the danger he can bring to my family. Do I?”

  “What’s this really about?”

  “Was Abby involved with Conrad?” Brock asked.

  “Hell no.”

  “Are you sure?” Brock pressed. “If she and Conrad were having an affair, she could cut ties and go independent.”

  “She wasn’t sleeping with Conrad,” Brantley assured him. Her relationship with their former leader was personal, but it wasn’t romantic. Still, he wouldn’t discuss Abby’s private life with Brock or anyone else. Besides, he and Ace had the Abby situation under control. If she didn’t follow orders, they would remove Abby from her post promptly.

  “You sound certain,” Brock said, frowning.

  “I am.”

  “But you’re hiding something.”

  “It’s Abby’s story to tell. Not mine. If you want answers about Abby’s relationship with Conrad, talk to Abby.”

  “Whatever you’re hiding, or protecting, make sure you stay on top of the situation.” A beat later, he changed the subject. “You’re in. The Northern Underground Unit can’t have a team without a leader in place. You’re the guy.” A strike later, he stuck out his hand and said, “Congratulations.”

  Brantley gulped. He wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d been interviewed for the position, but he didn’t necessarily want the new title or the responsibilities.

  The only reason he accepted the interview offer was to prevent Abby from securing the promotion. Underground Unit leaders were often the first targets once a geographical cell was identified. Prior to Conrad’s death, his team had escaped notoriety. They’d walked around in plain sight pursuing their marks without targets on their backs.

  Times were changing. The Northern division had been exposed but not entirely infiltrated. Once the members were properly identified, operatives would be at high risk for termination. And the leader of the pack would carry a heavy price on his or her head.

  Brantley processed. He would wear that tag. Better him than Abby.

  Glancing down at Brock’s outstretched hand, he finally accepted the shake. Brock gripped his fingers in a firm clasp. “Listen to what I’m saying to you, Brantley. We can’t afford screwups. I can’t do much to stop this if you and Abby are already involved, but if you aren’t, you stay out of her bed until this assignment is over. Are we clear?”

  “Understood,” Brantley responded, thinking that was probably for the best anyway.

  “I mean it. If you’re fucking her, you won’t be able to stand it when Juraz climbs in bed with her, and that’s where we want her. We need her right there beside him when he retires for the night. We must gain inside information before we dispose of him.”

  Brantley yanked his arm back and dropped Brock’s hand. “I’m capable of handling this.”

  “See that you do. You’re in charge now. Act like it. Superiors don’t sleep with their subordinates.”

  “This one might,” Brantley muttered, watching Brock walk away after his parting words. Staring down at the parking lot once more, he observed Abby as she spoke with other members of their team.

  Abby was young, beautiful, and street smart. She was sexy, good God was she ever sexy. And whether she realized it or not, she belonged to him.

  Unfortunately, several of the guys already had dibs on her, too.

  Yep. Brock had plenty of reason to worry.

  Brantley reached a decision as he observed the other agents forming a semicircle around the female operative they’d all come to adore. As the newly appointed leader, he would protect his agents. He’d implement security measures and take extra precautions to guarantee Abby’s safety even if it meant placing himself in the line of fire.

  Chapter Two<
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  Abingdon, Virginia

  July 1, 2011

  It was like watching porn, only better. Abby knew the players. Those in action sat beside her at meetings, teased her about having her dogs on short leashes, her men on tight strings.

  If Abby could look forward to adult recreation like this, then she would call Brantley today and tell him she was all in and ready to play…maybe. The submission thing was what held her back.

  Submission, hell. What she was watching bordered along the lines of a Dom-slave relationship.

  Abby ducked behind the full bushes right outside the large bay window. She pressed her fingertips against her moistened lips and attempted to steady her breathing.

  Was she invading the Donovans’ privacy? No, she decided. The Donovan brothers were known to take Sydney out of town to feed her apparent need for exhibitionism.

  From what she’d heard, a good number of operatives had watched the group frolicking. Hard-core fucking was more like it. Okay, making love.

  One unit in particular ran across the Donovans at an Amsterdam club, observing them as they used play equipment in a public forum. When Jett Donovan spotted them, he told them to grab a drink, get a bucket of popcorn, and enjoy the show.

  Still, she couldn’t help but feel like an intruder.

  Then again, Brock knew Abby’s unit was due to tour the grounds. He’d invited them to their Southwest Virginia compound. Come to think of it, when he’d left a message on her cell, he’d specifically said, “Sydney and I have a little surprise for you, darlin’, something you don’t want to miss. Do yourself a favor and arrive early.”

  She was thinking cheese and wine. Hot dogs with all the trimmings had been the last thing on her mind.

  Perhaps she’d been in the business too long. If she’d learn to relax, maybe she’d better enjoy delicious surprises.

  Using the windowsill, she hoisted herself up and narrowed her gaze on the unfolding acts. Well, here she was, the early bird catching the worm.

  Brock realized she’d make an appearance before the others reported for duty. Her team was always late. The guys surveyed the outskirts of all meeting locations prior to showing their handsome faces. Call them paranoid or well prepared.

  In this particular case, Abby considered what their thoroughness cost them. They were missing a truly enjoyable explicit presentation.

  Obviously, Brock wanted her to find the Donovan clan exactly as she’d discovered them. He’d arranged this. The question was…why?

  She swallowed the large lump in her throat as the Donovans lured their woman, tempting Sydney with their long, stout cocks. Sydney’s tongue swiped over her full, pouty lips as she pursued them.

  Maybe Brock thought a peek show would prepare her for the assignment ahead, or perhaps he took every opportunity to show the world how much the Donovan men loved their woman.

  No, this kind of demonstration must’ve been about training.

  Abby looked on as the group became entangled. Her nipples spiked as Sydney Donovan crawled across the carpet, inching her way toward her men. What she’d give to have someone watch her with such intense and noticeable admiration.

  The Donovan brothers cherished and loved Sydney. Their expressions told the story. They were hopelessly devoted to their woman.

  Abby closed her eyes. She imagined what it might be like to find herself at the core of such an activity. Her mind traveled. Vivid images flashed through her head as she considered the men she’d want in her bed.

  This was crazy, truly insane. She balled her fist and started to knock on the window, if for no other reason than to alert the Donovans of her presence there.

  Instead, she dropped her arm and focused on Sydney’s attire. A provocative outfit like what the Donovan woman wore wasn’t apparel typically found hanging from a department-store sale rack.

  Sydney sported a fitted dress with an open black leather bodice which exposed her breasts and vagina. Adorning her neck, an unusual leather choker with five jeweled padlocks proved symbolic. Five locks to represent each Donovan commitment. Imagine the ingenuity.

  That gadget must’ve been Brock’s idea. The domineering fucker probably coded the exquisite ornament so Sydney would require assistance if she ever wanted to remove her little neckband.

  Abby tilted her head and studied the way Sydney approached her men. She wondered if the Donovans were in the process of punishing their submissive for bad behavior.

  Abby had been reading up on Domination and submission, trying to get a good grasp on what to expect. She’d learned about punishments and rewards, but as her body responded to the visual before her, she quickly ascertained some forms of punishment were enjoyed by all.

  Sydney crept toward Jett. Once considered a ladies’ man, Jett was a hardcore operative with plenty of junk in the front, literally and figuratively speaking.

  Abby should’ve been ashamed to stand there and gape. She could’ve rung the bell or perhaps toured the property without the fellows. Instead, she was too curious and, admittedly, far too interested in BDSM, to turn away. She’d think of this moment as a learning experience.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Women needed to gain their knowledge somewhere.

  Sydney kissed the tip of Jett’s cock. She ran her tongue up and down the swollen shaft before deserting him. Then she redirected her focus. Luke earned her full attention.

  Abby gasped as soon as the two lovers connected. Luke Donovan. He sure was a pretty thing. The chemistry between Luke and Sydney sizzled. Observing the two of them together was like witnessing a new love affair. Surely that kind of spontaneous energy didn’t last forever. Then again, Sydney and the Donovan brothers had been together for several years.

  Luke dragged his dick back and forth over Sydney’s lips, and she consumed him, teasing him for just a fraction of a second before scooting by him and pursuing the next Donovan—Riley—the one Donovan Abby would’ve liked to have fucked prior to…well, prior to several events and numerous introductions.

  She wasn’t about to start fantasizing about her guys now. There’d be time for that later. Right now, she needed to focus. If this group left their window open then apparently they didn’t mind spectators.

  The guilt was gone. What better way to gain an education than to watch a few lovers play?

  A car door slammed in the distance, and Abby ducked. Shit! Someone was coming. That was all she needed. She could hear her guys taunting her now.

  Cupping her ear, she heard Brantley say, “Her car is down by the barn. Let’s check there first. Maybe Brock and the others have already started showing her around.”

  Abby remained out of sight until three voices faded away. Apparently only Brantley, Fowler, and Ace made the trip, unless the other two were catching up with them later or perhaps, didn’t have a lot to say. Right. Like that would happen.

  Placing her palms flat on the elevated porch, she pulled herself up and came out of hiding. About that time, an incredible amount of sensual noises filled the air. She couldn’t help but take notice of the activities on the other side of the cracked window.

  Holy sweet hell!

  Abby rose. She stood there watching as if they couldn’t see her, as if they’d given her permission to view them.

  Kevin was underneath Sydney, fucking her ass like he’d done it a thousand and one times. His large hands cupped her breasts as if he used them for balance. Occasionally he caressed her, plucking her clamped nipples with his fingers as he stroked her from behind.

  Riley was on top just going after it. His hard buns clenched as he entered her. He gripped Kevin’s shoulder as he pushed his thick erection inside her.

  Riley and Sydney were speaking to one another, whispering intimate words, something Abby longed to hear.

  Seconds later, Brock’s thick wedge of flesh was locked inside Sydney’s mouth. He looked down on her with the most adoring eyes Abby had ever seen.

  This kind of loving was an act to emulate. She wanted a similar relationship
of her own.

  As their strokes quickened, Abby’s breasts felt heavier. Her folds were slick and damp. Her pussy clenched, but there was no cock there to seize. She looked down at her chest, noticing the beaded diamond shapes pressing through her thin shirt.

  She needed her nipples clamped. She wanted her ass impaled, her pussy fucked. More than anything else, she wanted to know what it felt like to be an object of sexual obsession first inspired by true love.

  As her mouth fell open and her arousal spun out of control, Abby’s eyelids grew heavy. The carnal exploits continued. Hand jobs were given. Blow jobs were issued. And the fucking was like nothing she’d ever imagined.

  Sydney was one lucky woman. Or was she?

  As they groped, teased, and fucked, Sydney begged. They let her grovel. They seemed to take her right to the brink of an orgasm. Then, they’d switch positions, and leave her body writhing under theirs as they issued all sorts of promises, oaths Abby had yet to see them fulfill.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Brantley asked, his voice pitched in an alarming tone.

  Abby jerked. Her pulse raced. Dear God, she was caught like a bunny in a trap.

  “Well?” he pressed, walking toward her.

  “I was uh…looking for you.” She made a lame excuse, immediately aware of the rush of activity in her peripheral. Fantastic. Thanks to her voyeurism, they were busted. She’d never hear the end of this.

  “Since when do you stutter and stammer?” Ace asked, looking down the bridge of his nose. He used Brantley’s shoulder for leverage, stood on his tiptoes, and stared straight ahead. “Damn, son. Look at what Donovans get to enjoy!”

  Fowler hurried toward them, apparently hoping to catch a glimpse of public exhibitionism, too. Brantley grabbed Ace by the arm. “Come on. If Donovan sees us, we’re in some shit.”

  “Donovan did see you,” Brock informed them, walking out on the porch. Bare-chested and dressed only in denim jeans, Brock didn’t welcome them with a smile. “The men weren’t invited to watch.” He focused on her. “You, however, were a different story. Did you learn enough?”

  Abby gulped. “You knew I was here?”