Red Hunted_An MFM Ménage Romance

by Allyson Lindt

  WYATT NEEDED TO REMEMBER he was here to do more than show a couple people around town and watch them fuck. As he sat in his hotel room, several hours after parting ways from Fiona and Parker, the evening in the park was the only thing painting his mind.

  He should be finishing his summary of local delivery capabilities, rather than reliving that moment—that alluring instant he was both a part of and completely removed from.

  The way it should be. Wyatt was a voyeur at best, and a fucking bastard at worst.

  He dropped his face into his hand with a sigh and massaged his temples, as if that might coax the memory away.

  His phone chimed with a new email, and he grabbed it. It was an alert that Parker was doing a live feed. That was the perfect reason for Wyatt to set his phone to Do Not Disturb and finish his work.

  Instead, he clicked the link in the email and let the video load on the small screen. Parker had the camera trained on him, the stark neutrality of a hotel room in the background. From the shaking and angle of the shot, it looked like he had the handheld and was sitting on a bed. He’d shed the suit from earlier in favor of sweats and a battered T-shirt with the Eiffel Tower. And fuck it, if he didn’t look sexy and scruffy.

  “Okay. I know I already went live once today,” Parker said to the viewing audience, “but I’m a billion times too wired to sleep, so, you get to put up with me. For the first time in ages, I can’t tell you why. Don’t you hate that? The person online who insists they have a huge secret they’re dying to tell someone, but they can’t? Tonight, I’m that jerk.”

  What was he talking about? Did it have something to do with Grammie’s? That didn’t make sense. Parker wouldn’t jeopardize things by even hinting at something, if he wasn’t supposed to.

  “I will say this, though—this trip has been the best thing ever. A million times better than I ever could have imagined.” Parker’s grin was huge and irritatingly infectious.

  Wyatt realized he had his chin in his palm and was wearing a silly smile as he watched, and he wiped the emotion away. But he didn’t stop the video.

  “Are you talking to your internet friends again?” Fiona’s voice carried from the background.

  Parker looked past the camera but didn’t turn it to follow his gaze. “I am. And we’re live. Say hi to your fans?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Her tone was that light, carefree kind of playful that made Wyatt hard without any visual cues.

  “Please. Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” said Parker.

  She laughed. “All right. Only because you begged.”

  He turned the camera on her, and a fist clamped around Wyatt’s lungs. She wore knit shorts that barely covered her ass, and a matching camisole. Her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail, with loose red strands flying everywhere. Her smile scrunched up her nose, and with the hotel lighting and the camera, made the freckles on her cheeks obvious.

  What was he doing here, watching this with every other voyeur in the world, rather than sitting there with them? Right—he wasn’t part of their universe. With good reason. Wyatt shouldn’t have to remind himself of that.

  “What’s your favorite part of the trip so far?” Parker asked. “And remember—live.”

  Fiona laughed and shook her head. “I can’t say.” She waved. “Hi, Nick. Nothing bad, I promise.”

  “In other words, all the stuff we’re doing that gets cut in post.”

  She ducked her face behind her hands, muffling her, “Maybe.”

  Wyatt didn’t care that they were talking about the sex. Or that it involved him. He was watching out of idle curiosity.

  And if he kept repeating the assurance, he might believe it.

  “Okay. We’ll compromise. Leave out the torrid details and tell us your second favorite part instead.” Parker zoomed in closer and pulled back again until the image came back into focus.

  “I can’t pick one thing; I love all of it. The places. The people. The good, bad, familiar, and filthy.”

  “Keep it family friendly.” Warmth mingled with Parker’s warning.

  Fiona shook her head. “I am. Completely and totally family friendly. I didn’t even mention that thing, with the—”

  “Say goodnight, Fiona.”

  She looked into the camera, grinning. “Goodnight, Fiona.”

  Wyatt tossed his phone aside and let it slide across the desk. The twinges of longing and jealousy didn’t matter. He had what he needed to break their contract, and it was close. It would only take another nudge or two to coax them into a community-standards violation. Get one of them to say or do too much on camera, and it would all be over.

  He’d move into his promotion and leave them and this entire affair behind.

  Guilt joined everything else he refused to feel. There was no reason for it. Fiona was brilliant, and her app would take off without Grammie’s. Especially after the coverage she’d gotten for it.

  Parker was charismatic as hell, and this would be the kind of no-such-thing-as-bad-publicity, slip-up that would only further his career.

  Everyone would be better for this, once Wyatt was done.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Wyatt answered his phone as he walked into the local offices for work. “Wyatt. How can I help you?” A low-grade thrum ran through the base of his skull, thanks to a night of tossing and turning, accompanied by dreams of flirty redheads and charming-as-fuck vloggers.

  “Hey.” Chuck’s too-friendly voice made Wyatt cringe. “Saw you were in town, working on proposals. What’s your calendar like this morning?”

  Wyatt planned to wrap up work early, check in on where Fiona and Parker were, and see how he could fuck things up for them. The thought soured in his gut, but he ignored the reaction. “I can rearrange my schedule if you’re around. Fair warning—the strip clubs aren’t as great here as in Atlanta. Nor do they open this early.”

  Chuck laughed. “I know, right? You’ll still owe me in two weeks, but we’re both here now and I’d like to talk face to face.”

  “When and where?”

  “Half an hour? I’ve got a temporary office set up over here, at Grammie’s.”

  “Great.” It sounded intolerable, but Wyatt kept that from his retort. This was the job, and he excelled at it. He pocketed his phone, spun on his toe, and headed back to his car.

  Nearly an hour later—after waiting in the lobby for almost twenty-five minutes—Wyatt took the seat across from Chuck, in a cramped office. They exchanged basic pleasantries.

  “I’ll keep this short. I know you’re busy,” Chuck said.

  Wyatt’s mask never wavered. “Fantastic. What can I do for you?” He’d have to dig through fractured thoughts to come up with a status on his updated proposal, but he could bullshit his way through it.

  “Have you seen this ludicrous YouTube contest that’s going on? This win-a-sponsorship deal all these bums are competing for?”

  Wyatt’s brain ground to a halt at the question, stalled on memories he shouldn’t have an emotional attachment to. “Yeah. I got caught up in one of those channels and their filming. Some flashmob thing in Indiana.” No reason to lie about it, but he didn’t need to offer any information beyond that, either.

  “What a wreck. Am I right?” Chuck snorted a laugh. “And those are the guys I wanted to talk to you about. They’re supposed to be representing us, of all things. And I hear they’re here, now. Fucking amateur hour at its worst.”

  Wyatt bit his tongue to swallow back a defense for Parker. “Hmm.”

  “Anyway... They’re working for the company competing with you for the contract.”

  “I’d heard that.” Wyatt blanketed the chaos bubbling inside. The conflicting thoughts of his plan, feelings he wouldn’t acknowledge, and the desire to punch Chuck for his disdain.

  “Like I said, the thing is a disaster area. This app is glitching on contracts. It’s a two-person circus, and we haven’t even rolled out a tenth of our projected business.”

  Wyatt forced
his chuckle. What he wanted to do was point out Fiona had dropped everything the moment there was a tiny hiccup in the system and had things back online within hours. Few businesses could boast that kind of reaction time. “So much for that family-friendly feeling you were looking for, huh?”

  “Touché.” Chuck grimaced. “Anyway. I wanted to talk to you about something else. I’ve seen preliminary work of what you’ve done onsite, and if you can offer that—the things you’re discussing with our regional offices—and come in at your original quote, we’re going to go with you.”

  How do I know you’ll actually sign the contract this time? The question lodged in Wyatt’s throat. “What about these YouTube kids? They still have two weeks, don’t they?”

  “This is where it gets tricky. We’re going to let them run through the end of their one-month trial before we pull the plug. See out their contract. Hey, it’s free advertising. You know?”

  “Right...” This was about Wyatt and getting what he’d been shooting for—no mess, no fuss. He grabbed the question he should have asked. “I need a guarantee the deal is going through.”

  “Fair enough,” Chuck said. “I’ll give it to you in writing, but it has to be under NDA for the next two weeks. We’ll sign the paperwork now, if it stays private.”

  Wyatt grinned his widest, most genuine-looking smile, to smother the doubt inside. “Great.”

  And, it was. This way, he didn’t have to force failure on Parker and Fiona. Wyatt had accomplished his goal, he’d never see them again after this week, and he’d be long gone from their lives if they found out who he was.

  Everybody won, and they’d see it too, even if it took them a little while to realize it.

  PARKER SAT ON THE EDGE of a fountain, legs stretched in front of him, letting the sun beat against his back. He’d finished filming for the day, and this was Fiona’s chance to sightsee, so he’d left the equipment at the hotel.

  Amid the chatter of tourists, footsteps drew closer, and then a pair of leather dress shoes moved into his line of sight.

  Wyatt stood a few feet back, hands in his slacks pockets. Parker had misjudged him. Not that his initial assessment was outright wrong; Wyatt was arrogant and aggressive and not used to hearing no. But he seemed to have a personality under that. And he really was a sexy bastard.

  “You’re awfully easy to track down,” Wyatt said.

  Parker felt a nudge of doubt about the hints that Fiona’s biggest online fan may be following them, but he was a bit stalled on what he could do about it. “I suppose that only matters if you’re looking for us.”

  “I was. You have room for one more in your party?”

  Parker hesitated, torn between wanting Fiona to himself for the day and wanting Wyatt to stick around.

  “Don’t jump on an answer right away.” Light sarcasm leaked into Wyatt’s voice. “Take your time.” And was that a trace of hurt?

  Fiona skipped up to them, saving Parker from summoning a response. She squeezed Wyatt’s hand. “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you today.”

  A new batch of muddled thoughts taunted Parker, in response to her enthusiasm. It quieted when she sat next to him, her arm resting against his.

  “I couldn’t find it,” she said.

  “Find what?” Wyatt asked.

  Parker shrugged. “I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”

  “It’s a surprise. The guy said I should check out the gift shop on the other side of the square, but I saw you both and wanted to say hi.” She looked up at Wyatt. “Are you sticking around?”

  That helped Parker make up his mind, though he still didn’t know how he felt about it. “He is.”

  Wyatt smiled. “Go buy your surprise. We’ll wait.”

  “Okay.” Fiona hurried away again, and Wyatt turned to watch her leave. Not that Parker blamed him. In those jeans, the view was incredible.

  Wyatt looked at Parker again. “Has she always been so...”

  “Amazing? Yes.” Though, that seemed like the understatement of the decade when he said it aloud.

  “I was going to say effervescent.”

  “That too.”

  A group of kids rushed past Wyatt, nudging him aside, and a frazzled looking father chased after them, pausing for half a breath to apologize before continuing his pursuit.

  “What about you?” Wyatt asked.

  “I’ve never been effervescent.”

  “No. You’re charismatic.” Wyatt tilted his head, as if studying him. “That’s the word I’d use.”

  Parker’d never thought of himself that way. “I’m just friendly.”

  A giggle caught his attention, and he followed the sound to two girls in their late teens. One balanced on the fountain wall and the other walked beside her on the ground. Every few seconds, they’d look toward Wyatt and Parker and laugh again. When the one on the ground caught Parker’s eye, he gave a short wave. She flushed, turned away, and grabbed her friend’s hand.

  “But you’re sincere about it.” Wyatt’s comment drew his attention again.

  This coming from a guy who earned his living selling things. And as far as Parker could tell, he was damn good at it. “You’re not?”

  “Depends on what I’m trying to get out of the situation. I don’t always not mean it.”

  Parker winced at the jumble of negatives. “That’s not a convoluted statement or anything.”

  “May I ask you a personal question?”

  “You’ve had my dick in your mouth. Does it get more personal?”

  A couple with a baby stroller glared at Parker as they passed. He gave them an apologetic half-shrug.

  “It does,” Wyatt said. “And it has the potential to ruin a day, so think before you answer.”

  The shift in tone tightened in Parker’s neck. Wyatt only knew one thing that might sour Parker’s mood. Or rather, one person. “I have to know now. Ask away.”

  “That clip from Omaha, with the sister of your... deceased girlfriend? I saw that.”

  Oh. There was that, too. “Okay.”

  “What happened?”

  Everything. Nothing. All the wrong things. God, he didn’t want to relive that. But the memories were bubbling to the surface, so there was no point in pretending they didn’t exist. “At least you ask the hard stuff first. Like ripping off a Band-Aid.”

  “You’re not obligated to answer.”

  “It’s all right.” With the sun warming his skin and the laughter and enjoyment all around them, it was easier to not sink into those shadows. “Fiona, Gretchen, and I were friends growing up. Elementary school. Junior high. We made it a few years into high school, and Gretchen asked me to homecoming.” This was probably more detail than Wyatt wanted, but Parker needed to pad things, to remember there were good parts, too.

  “From there, Gretchen and I were a couple. Red still hung with us, and she seemed to be cool with the arrangement. After a few months, things started to fall apart with Gretchen. Mostly because we were teenagers and too young to be in love. Fiona was a friendly ear when I needed one.” She’d also been infuriatingly neutral. “She had this way of making me look at things from Gretchen’s perspective and talking me back from the edge of frustration. Except the longer I talked to her”—he’d been blind to it then, and he wouldn’t be now—“the more I realized I was with the wrong girl.”

  “From a strictly biased perspective, and not to speak ill of the dead, it seems like a smart conclusion to draw. For you,” Wyatt said.

  Was the pause intentional? “Yeah, well... Stupid teenagers, you know? Then one day I was bitching about my problems with Gretchen, and Fiona said, Holy fuck—just dump her already.” He could still hear her voice in his head, saying those exact words. “It caught me off guard. Fiona said it was clear we weren’t happy, we weren’t making things work, and we were too young to be tied down.”

  “Smart, on her part,” Wyatt said.

  She always was the bright one. “The comment made me pause and think, and then I told her okay
. I asked Red, if I broke up with Gretchen, would she go out with me?”

  “She told you no.” Wyatt shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

  “She did. How did you...?”

  “Lucky guess. The story goes differently if she tells you yes. There’s more guilt. There’s less chance for you two to repair things. And there’s the fact that she’s not the kind of person who would do that to a friend.”

  “But I am?” Parker didn’t know how to take a statement like that.

  “You’re the guy who asked her.”

  Fair point. Not one Parker wanted to concede, but still fair. This was the first time he’d ever talked openly about what happened. He’d expected it to hurt more, but the scars were that—pale, healed over, still there, but not painful anymore. “Fiona told me that even if I ended things with Gretchen, she’d still be there for me as a friend. That she wouldn’t let that drive us apart. And maybe, down the road, we’d be more. Maybe not, but she hoped maybe. She just refused to be the rebound girl.”

  “And Gretchen passed away before you ended things.”

  That was the climax of the story. That plot twist, where it all fell apart. “Drunk-driving accident. She was the drunk. Killed a family of four.” That still hurt. Knowing he’d been responsible for their loss, even indirectly, was a burden he’d never shed. He breathed past the grief. “So there you have my deepest, darkest secret.” His chuckle was forced. “What’s yours?”

  Wyatt shook his head and sat on the ledge next to him, hands pressed into the concrete. He stared at his feet. “My ex—current at the time, open relationship—used me as a wingman for women he was obsessed with. I inadvertently helped him stalk and harass about half a dozen of them before I figured it out.”

  Parker didn’t know how to respond to that, but he didn’t doubt the story. It rang with a kind of truth that not everything coming out of Wyatt’s mouth did. “I’m sorry,” Parker said.

  “Live and learn, right?” Wyatt sighed.

  “What do you learn from something like that?”

  “Never trust anyone too convenient to be true.” When Wyatt looked at him, his neutral expression was back in place, and that hint of sincerity had vanished. Whatever he was hiding was tucked away again.