Smooth Operators [Clandestine Affairs 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Clandestine Affairs 2

  Smooth Operators

  Briana Redmond isn't best pleased when three tough ex-marines arrive at her Montana lake house, even if she does admire the view. Sabotage? No one's trying to sabotage her efforts. She's just had a run of bad luck, hasn't she? She absolutely doesn't need three bare-chested hunks crawling all over her roof, or over her.

  Fergal Stanton, Gus Dalton, and Harley Osborne soon realize that someone doesn't want Briana living on the lake. But who, and why? Searching for answers gives them an excuse to hang around and make themselves useful. The guys can't resist the challenge of awakening Briana's latest sexuality, if only to prove a point to her. Engaged in steamy sex games, they take their eyes off the ball, leaving Briana in a life-threatening situation. Will they be in time to save the woman all three of them have fallen for?

  Note: There is no sexual relationship or touching for titillation between or among siblings.

  Genre: BDSM, Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre

  Length: 50,825 words

  SMOOTH OPERATORS

  Clandestine Affairs 2

  Zara Chase

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  SMOOTH OPERATORS

  Copyright © 2013 by Zara Chase

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-321-4

  First E-book Publication: July 2013

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

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  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  SMOOTH OPERATORS

  Clandestine Affairs 2

  ZARA CHASE

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Raoul and Zeke galloped across the open prairie, heading back to their Wyoming ranch. The hands had done a decent job of repairing the fencing on the southern pasture, and they wouldn’t be losing any more stock through that route. Raoul inhaled deeply. It felt good to be outside for a while. He spent way too much time closeted in his office, overseeing their clandestine operations organization that had grown out of control. He and Zeke had started out trying to fix a few problems for fellow ex-servicemen, and before they knew it, they had a full-blown business on their hands.

  Zeke pulled his horse across Raoul’s line, deliberately goading him, stirring his buddy’s competitive spirit. He ought to have known better. Zeke might have been virtually born on the back of a horse, but Raoul was no slouch himself when it came to this stuff, and since Zeke was clearly fixing for a fight, Raoul was happy to oblige. Grinning, Raoul swung his horse to the left and then cut back in front of Zeke again, forcing him to swerve. With a clear line back to the barn, Raoul beat Zeke home by a full head.

  “Shit, man, you don’t play fair,” Zeke complained, laughing as he slapped his horse’s sweaty neck and dismounted.

  “Listen to who’s talking.”

  They unsaddled their horses and hosed them down. They might be the bosses, but it didn’t occur to either of them to let someone else clean up after them.

  “Good to see you haven’t forgotten how to ride,” Zeke said as they led their horses back out to the paddock.

  “It’s okay, partner. I won’t tell that you got beat.”

  “Hah, only ’cause you cheated.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “You fancy going into town tonight, hitting a few bars, see what’s around?” Zeke asked.

  Raoul knew what Zeke was suggesting. The two of them were into sharing their women, just like they shared most everything else about their lives. It had been a while since they’d found a female who met with their exacting standards, mainly because Raoul couldn’t be bothered to look. Whenever he did go into town, the women tended to come on to him, which was an immediate turnoff. Raoul liked to be the one who did the pursuing.

  “You go, buddy. I got some stuff I need to catch up with.”

  “Use it or lose it,” Zeke said, grinning. “That cock of yours will drop off if it don’t see some action soon. It’s not as though you don’t get any offers. What about the chick who runs the feed store in town? She’s shit hot, and I don’t think she’d turn either of us down, not if I’m reading the signals right.”

  “Yeah, I agree she’s cute, but I can’t work up any enthusiasm.”

  “You’re regressing, buddy,” Zeke said as they walked back to the house together. “I know you still miss her, but you have to move on.”

  Zeke was the only person who could talk to Raoul about his dead wife without running the risk of having his head removed from his shoulders. He’d been there, knew what had happened to Cantara, and had suffered right alongside Raoul when they were captured trying to save her. Zeke was right in one respect. Raoul had managed to live again for a while, if you could call it that. But it all seemed kinda pointless now—sex for the sake of it when his emotions weren’t engaged.

  The problem was that his emotions never would be engaged again. They’d died right alongside Cantara and their unborn child, and Raoul was good with that. H
e’d constructed some sort of barricade around the part of him that used to be able to feel because he never wanted to experience the searing pain of loss—the hopelessness that took him over when he failed to save the love of his life—ever again.

  Zeke, on the other hand, firmly believed that life went on. Well, that was easy for him to say.

  “Yeah, okay, we’ll go into town tonight.” Raoul slapped Zeke’s shoulder. “Happy now?”

  Zeke chuckled. “Delirious.”

  They both headed for Raoul’s office, where Raoul immediately checked his secure email account—the one only a privileged few had access to—the one where requests for their particular services came in. There was only one new mail since Raoul had checked earlier. Surprised to recognize the sender’s name and wondering what he could possibly need from Raoul, he immediately opened it.

  “Take a look at this,” he said.

  Zeke peered over Raoul’s shoulder. “From Major Redmond. Thought he was still in Iraq.”

  “He is and he wants to talk to us over the secure line.”

  “Must be something important. He’s not the type to panic about stuff.”

  Raoul shrugged. “What’s the time over there now?”

  “They’re nine hours ahead. He said he’d called when he got off this evening, so I guess that could be anytime now.”

  The call came almost an hour later.

  “Major, nice to hear from you,” Raoul said, not wasting time with small talk. “What can I do for you?”

  “I’m not sure that you can, son, but I sure as hell need some help from somebody. There’s fuck all I can do about the situation back at home while I’m stuck in this hellhole.”

  “Best tell us about it. Zeke’s here and you’re on speaker phone.”

  “Hey, Major,” Zeke said. “Good talking with you.”

  “You, too.” The major paused. “My problem is with my little gal.”

  “Your daughter?”

  “Right, only I guess Briana’s not so little anymore. She’s twenty-four now, and just about as independent as they come, but she’ll always be a baby to me.”

  “What’s she done to get you worried enough to call us?” Zeke asked.

  “Well, that’s just it, I’m not exactly sure, and it’s driving me crazy.”

  “Start at the beginning, sir,” Raoul said.

  “Okay, she majored in marine biology at college and was working down in Florida on some conservation program. Then her grandma died, left her a bed-and-breakfast in Fort Peck, Montana, and she’s gone back there to run it.”

  “A bit of a career change,” Raoul said. “Does she plan to stay there or sell up?”

  “Not so big a change. She grew up there and loves the place. It’s right on a lake, lots of marine life and conservation stuff for her to involve herself with. The bed-and-breakfast is a bit run-down, but she plans to renovate the place and attract summer tourists. Hiking, fishing, stuff like that. Tourism is making a big contribution to the Montana economy nowadays.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Raoul said. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Far as she’s concerned, nothing at all. Every time I email her, she tells me everything’s just dandy. But I keep in contact with a couple of old guys in Fort Peck. We go way back, and they’ve kinda taken it upon themselves to look out for Briana. Seems someone doesn’t want her to succeed with her little B and B and is actively sabotaging her efforts.”

  “In what respect?” Raoul asked.

  “That’s just the problem, I don’t know much more than that. Briana is as tight-lipped with my buddies as she is with me, which makes me wonder if I’m blowing this up out of all proportion. Still, for my own peace of mind, I wondered if you had anyone who could stop by and check up on her for me.”

  Raoul and Zeke exchanged a glance. The woman was twenty-four and had told her dad she didn’t need any help. Raoul also knew that the major wasn’t one to panic and that he must be pretty steamed up to even ask for help. Raoul and Zeke had served with him and respected his judgment.

  “Sure, we can do that. Is she open for business yet?” Raoul asked.

  “I don’t think so. Does it matter?”

  “Well, I’m guessing she won’t like it if my guys turn up and make it obvious you’ve sent them.”

  “Ah, I see what you mean. Good thinking.”

  “Leave it with us, Major. We’ll send someone over for a weekend’s hunting and fishing and see what shakes loose.”

  “I appreciate it, Raoul.”

  “No problem.” Raoul cut the connection and looked at Zeke. “Who do we have in Montana?” he asked.

  “We’ve got Fergal, Harley, and Gus in Columbia Falls. They won’t have much to do this time of year.”

  “Not much call for ski instructors in the summer.” Raoul flicked through his phonebook, found Fergal’s number and called him up. “Hey, buddy,” he said when Fergal answered, “how do you guys fancy a weekend’s fishing?”

  Chapter Two

  Briana clenched her fists, dug the ragged fingernails into her palms severely enough to make her eyes water, and counted to ten in her head.

  “I don’t care what it says on your inventory,” she told the person on the other end of the phone, resisting the temptation to grind her jaw. “I didn’t order roof tiles. I ordered roof timbers. Big difference.”

  She listened, wondering if steam was actually coming out of her ears as the kid she was talking to trotted out the usual platitudes.

  Give me strength. “Yes, I agree someone’s made a mistake, but it isn’t me. Now I’ve got a whole pallet load of roof tiles stuck right outside my door, obstructing my entrance, and workmen due to arrive tomorrow to fix the timber that you haven’t supplied. What are you going to do about it?”

  Briana was put on hold while her call was passed up the line. She figured that was just as well. The child who’d answered was worse than useless. Briana needed someone to yell at, but she drew the line at tearing the office junior a new one. The way she felt right now, she’d probably traumatize him for life if she let rip with the profanities buzzing around her over-stretched brain.

  Five minutes later she’d been told that the tiles couldn’t be collected until Monday and the timber wouldn’t be delivered until then, either. Monday! Today was Thursday. She couldn’t wait that long. Arguing, threatening, and cajoling got her nowhere. Fuck it, this was more than just bad luck! Everything she tried to do here seemed to go wrong, and she was beginning to think someone had it in for her.

  Briana disconnected, sat down on a packing case, and expelled several deep, calming breaths. All she wanted to do was restore the lodge where she’d spent most of her childhood to its former glory and open it up as a bed-and-breakfast. They made it look so easy on those makeover television shows. She had all the necessary permissions, subject to completion of the work and compliance with a million safety regulations. But if she couldn’t even get the damned roof repaired, she’d have failed at the first hurdle and would be left with no choice but to sell up.

  “Ain’t gonna happen,” she told her motley collection of animals, all rescues.

  Bradley and Boris, the two kittens she’d saved from being drowned, were chasing a ball of string across the floor and took not a blind bit of notice. Max, the nondescript mongrel who’d been with her since she graduated college, picked up on her mood and shoved his shaggy head beneath her hand, glancing up at her through mournful eyes.

  “Don’t take any notice of me,” she said to him. “I just need a moment to regroup, then we’ll decide what to do.”

  Apparently satisfied that she wasn’t going into meltdown, Max trotted outside, and Briana returned to her cogitations. Her dad kept emailing, almost as though he sensed things weren’t going right for her. She hadn’t told him anything about her problems. That was partly because she didn’t want to be branded a failure, but also because he had enough to worry about, being stationed in Iraq. Besides, she’d seen so little of her dad duri
ng her childhood years that she’d never gotten into the habit of confiding in him. It was her grandma who had been her mother and father all rolled into one, as well as confidant and best friend.

  Briana dashed impatiently at the tears forming in her eyes. She never cried as a general rule, but whenever she thought about Gran she didn’t seem able to stop. Damn it, why did she have to die so young? And why hadn’t Briana been here? As though summoned back from the grave by the sheer force of her will, Briana sensed Gran’s calming presence, giving her the strength she needed to rise above this latest calamity.

  Briana had set herself a year to get the place up and running, ready for next year’s summer trade. If she was careful with her funds and managed to sell a few of her photographs, she ought to be able to survive until then. The winters she’d have to herself for photography and the conservations programs she was so passionate about. Not many people came to Montana for outdoor activities in the winter—especially not to such isolated places as hers. Not that Briana looked upon it as being isolated. She loved every inch of the place, always had and always would. The only other option was to sell up, and that was unthinkable.

  “Hey, anyone home?”

  Shit! Greg Stone was here. Again. Briana blew her nose and dabbed at her eyes, managing to pull herself together moments before her old flame walked into the room.

  “Hey, Briana, how’s it going?”

  As always, he was dressed to assassinate. Anyone wearing a suit in this rural location looked out of place, but Greg had the good looks and the confidence to carry it off. What’s more, he appeared to know it.