Their Virgin’s Secret, Masters of Menage, Book 2 Read online

  “You’ll never make it.” The man on the floor groaned. “Bitch is going to get what’s coming to her. Well, what’s coming to you. Did you think you could fool anyone? You better pray my bombs kill her. If my boss catches her instead, he’s gonna have a real good time with her.”

  Boss? His stomach turned. If this guy had been working for Delgado and was talking about a new boss… Fuck, this organization hadn’t died. It had more lives than a fucking cat. Was there a new boss out for revenge? How could the bastard know about Jessa and the few precious days they’d spent with her?

  He had a million questions, but no time to ask. They had to get Jessa out. If the man on the floor wasn’t lying, they were all in grave danger. With a deep and angry regret, he turned and darted up the stairs just behind Cole, locking the fucker in the basement.

  “Jessa!” Burke shouted.

  “I can hear her going to the second story.” Cole took off after her.

  The light was better upstairs. Jessa had left the drapes open, and moonlight drenched the hallway in an eerie silvery glow. Burke ran beside his brother. They caught Jessa at the top of the stairs, Burke’s arm going around her waist.

  He’d dreamed of holding her again, touching her. Not once in those dreams did she kick and scream and fight like hell.

  “No! Let me go, damn it.”

  “Jessa, calm down.” Burke demanded.

  “Let me go. I have to get him!” Jessa’s voice sounded strangled in her throat. He could feel her hot tears hit his hand.

  Her husband. She was fighting for him. She was clawing at Burke, scratching and fighting to get to another man. His chest buckled. His heart fucking ached. Jessa was in love with someone else and willing to die to save this douche she’d married who’d left her alone to fend off an intruder in the basement by herself.

  “I’ll get Angus, Jessa,” Cole growled. “Where is he? You let Burke get you the hell out of here.”

  “Angus? Oh, god. He was in the living room sleeping earlier.”

  “On it.” Cole turned and ran down the stairs.

  “Oh, god. Please. Let me go. I have to get Caleb!” Jessa fought again, bringing her foot forward, knee up to her waist, and kicked back with all her might.

  Caleb? Burke groaned as her heel met his cock with surprising force. He released Jessa and dropped to his knees.

  She wasted not a minute. As Burke strained to get to his feet, she disappeared around the corner.

  Goddamn it. Burke forced himself up. From downstairs, he heard a loud hissing and Cole swearing. Apparently his brother had found the damn cat again instead of Jessa’s husband. He let it go. If Cole couldn’t handle a kitty cat by himself, then all those years as a SEAL had been for nothing. Ignoring the pain, he ran after Jessa.

  Who the fuck was Caleb? Another lover? Why hadn’t the investigator’s report mentioned him? And why did Jessa think he was worth dying over?

  He lurched down the hall. There was no question where she had gone. Only one door was open at the end of the corridor.

  Rage churned in his gut. She’d obviously never loved him or Cole. He’d tortured himself nightly with visions of her, sweet and warm and loving, while she’d run happily off and apparently found not one but two men. Well, he and Cole had shown her the pleasures of ménage. He guessed it was all their fault. She’d taken to it beautifully even though she’d been a virgin at the time.

  Yet he couldn’t walk away. He was going to get Jessa, Angus, and this Caleb person out of here if it was the last fucking thing he did. Then he was going to find some way to get on with his life.

  He stalked into the room, unwilling to take no for an answer. This time he would be ready for her struggles. He would drag her out, kicking and screaming if he had to. He opened his mouth to explain to her just how this was going to go. Then he stopped dead in his tracks. He’d expected to be in her bedroom. This room was filled with stuffed toy puppy dogs and smiling lions. And a crib.

  Jessa stood, tears coursing down her face as she grabbed a swaddled, slightly fussing baby to her chest. She’d slung a big tote bag over her shoulder.

  “I’m ready. We can go,” she headed for the door. “As soon as Cole gets Angus. You should warn him. Angus gets twitchy around new people. He scratches. Uhm, and he throws up. He’s really a terrible cat.”

  Cat? Angus wasn’t her husband, but a cat. And Caleb was… Even in the dark, he could tell the baby was small and very young. He came to one stunning, jaw-dropping conclusion.

  Caleb was their son.

  * * * *

  One year earlier, Christmas Eve – New York City

  Jessa Wade eyed the ladder.

  “Ah, my nemesis. We meet again. Don’t think you’ll best me tonight. This time, I will use you and put you away and come out of the experience unscathed.”

  Fat chance of that happening. And, awesome, she was all alone on Christmas Eve, talking to a ladder. Nothing said “pathetic” quite like that.

  She glanced around the bar of the Hotel DuMonde. Her aunt owned the place, but she was off in Barbados, her usual holiday haunt. Jessa had been invited to go, but she’d had the ridiculous dream that her parents would get into the Christmas spirit and call her home.

  Clearly, that wasn’t happening. So she was alone in the hotel bar, cleaning up and doing inventory. And dealing with a ladder that had it in for her.

  She picked up the martini glasses. They belonged on the highest shelf. The DuMonde’s bar was a magnificent concoction of glass and silver and mirrors that reached to the top of the twelve-foot ceiling. On a normal night, she wouldn’t have to climb up there. Those glasses on the highest level were almost decorative, but the night before had been a blowout of the highest order. Some corporate party. Every damn glass in the place had been used, and the cleaning crew had only just finished with the dishes.

  She sighed. She’d sent the bartender and the waitress home. She’d always heard that Christmas Eve was a big night for bars, but she didn’t have any customers. It hadn’t seemed right to keep those two away from their families when the money would be crap.

  “Miss, a Scotch, please? Single malt.”

  She nodded, grateful for the distraction. Working would keep her mind off the fact that her mother and father had turned her out, and the only relative still speaking to her in the world was currently windsurfing in the Caribbean. She turned to look at her new customer and practically forgot to breathe.

  He stood at the bar, six feet four inches of pure sex. Dark hair, vibrant blue eyes, shoulders that seemed to go on forever.

  “Miss?” He stood there with a knowing smile on his sensual mouth.

  Jessa forced herself back to reality with an inward sigh. He knew how ridiculously hot he was. And she knew she was a waitress who needed to lose a couple of pounds. Her mother’s admonitions came back to haunt her. She would never land a man at a size 12. Her mother, the bulimic. She viewed throwing up as a socially polite way to stay thin. Why had she wanted to go home for the holidays?

  Jessa turned on her best sassy-girl smile. “There’s no poor single malt. So you get your choice of expensive or even more expensive.”

  “Oh, a sarcastic one. Cole, we hit the jackpot.”

  There were two of them? A second wretchedly hot man walked up to the bar, identical to the first. This one shrugged out of his coat. It took all Jessa had to not fan herself despite the cold.

  Cool blue eyes assessed her. She stared back. The two brothers weren’t totally identical now that she really looked. There was something more reserved about this twin. The first had a sensual ease about him. She found nothing gentle in Cole. He was pure predator.

  So why didn’t she want to run? Why was she wondering what it would be like to be caught by him?

  “Saucy, huh? Well, I know how to fix that.” His smile was razor sharp, dangerous. “Now, we’ll both take two fingers of the Glenlivet, fifteen year.”

  So richer. Even more expensive. She reached for the bottle, catching two
of the heavy crystal glasses the bar reserved for premium beverages. She poured the Scotch out, measuring carefully before sliding them toward the men.

  “Here you go. Feel free to sit anywhere. It looks like you’re my only customers tonight.” She tried to give them a friendly but dismissive nod. She might be inexperienced, but she wasn’t an idiot. If they weren’t with family, one or both of them might be looking for a lonely heart to share the sheets with tonight. If so, they would hit on her because she was the only woman available here. Best to sidle away now. “Just yell if you need a refill.”

  The first man leaned forward, smiling. “Why should we yell when we could sit right here and talk to you?”

  Yep, they were definitely going to hit on her. She opened her mouth to shut them down, but Cole put out a hand to stop her. He looked at his brother, and she could see them having a whole conversation with small facial tics and raised eyebrows. She stared in fascination.

  Finally, they looked back at her. Cole seemed to have won the silent argument. He nodded her way, his hand on his glass. “Thank you, Miss. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.”

  She watched as they walked to the corner of the bar. Damn, their back sides were just as nice as their fronts. Each man wore tight jeans that molded to perfectly formed butts.

  She sighed. They were way, way out of her league. She didn’t even have a league anymore. Once it had been the debutante circle, but she’d hated the wealthy social whirl she’d been brought up in. She’d hated it so much that she’d turned down a job with her father after the prescribed years at Wharton Business School. She’d played the dutiful daughter, but she couldn’t stomach the idea of working in big business. She’d just wanted to paint.

  And her parents didn’t want an artist for a daughter. They had cut her off with the ruthless precision that had gotten her father to the top. They wouldn’t take her calls or allow her on the grounds of their estate until she came around and accepted a job with the corporation. They had thought she wouldn’t last two weeks on her own, but a year later, she could see the end of the tunnel.

  In a few months she would turn twenty-three, and her trust fund would kick in. Her parents couldn’t stop it, couldn’t touch it. Thank you, Grandmere.

  Jessa turned away from the hotties. They weren’t for her. She had a job and a life. That would have to be enough. Well, she had a job anyway, and right now it involved the hated ladder. She could see herself grimacing in the mirror. Yeah, that was attractive. She grabbed the last of the martini glasses and prayed for grace.

  She started up the ladder, every step a careful move. She passed the rows of vodka and whiskey, rose above the gin and tequila. She stole a look toward the bar. The men sat there, leaning toward each other, speaking in whispers, in their own world. She wished she had a sister or someone to talk to. Despite the heady freedom of the last year, she had to admit she was lonely. She’d pulled into herself and her work, shutting out everyone.

  Would it be so bad to get hit on? Would it be so horrible to finally give in to a man? She was twenty-two years old and out on her own. There hadn’t been time for a relationship, and she’d clung to the idea of true love. Well, that wasn’t anywhere on the horizon. Did she really want to turn another year older without knowing what a man’s touch felt like? No. Ugh, she sounded pathetic. She felt pathetic, too.

  And clumsy. Her foot slipped on a rung. She hadn’t been paying attention. The glasses fell out of her hand, crashing to the floor. The ladder teetered and she began to lose her balance. She groped but had nothing to hang onto. She began to fall.

  Crap. She didn’t have the money to pay for an ambulance, and she’d need one for sure after she fell ten feet. She shrieked and braced herself for impact. She was going to land on shattered glass, cut herself wide open, and break something vital. It was going to hurt so freaking much.

  She woofed, the air thudding from her lungs as she landed not on hard tile, but in two strong arms. She looked up into Cole’s eyes, her heart racing. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, even more so up close. The only one who matched him was his twin, who stood behind him, a slight smile on his gorgeous face.

  “What’s your name, baby?”

  “Jessa,” she breathed. The way he’d called her baby made her shiver.

  “Well, Jessa. You should be more careful,” Cole said.

  Yep, she should definitely be more careful because right now, it felt like she was in big trouble.

  * * * *

  The woman was serious trouble. Cole knew it the second he laid eyes on her. He’d been a man who cleaned up messes for too long to not be able to recognize that a mile away. He’d done it first for the Navy, then with his brother privately for a lovely fee. This little waitress was the softest, sweetest mess he’d ever had the pleasure to hold.

  Pure, gorgeous trouble.

  The firelight illuminated Jessa’s soft features, making her creamy skin look warm and inviting. She took the drink in her hands, still shaking a bit.

  “Thanks. I shouldn’t be drinking.” She took a little sip anyway. Her face twisted up in the most adorable grimace. “Ugh. People pay top dollar for this?”

  “Scotch is an acquired taste, but it’ll get rid of the shakes. Sip a little.”

  Burke sank into the couch opposite from Cole and Jessa, a knowing smirk on his face. His little brother was just loving this, Cole knew. Burke had wanted to pounce on the redhead the minute he’d laid eyes on her. Sometimes his brother thought with his cock. But they were too close to Delgado right now. Six months on the case and they were finally going to meet the man who had taken their clients’ cousin. They couldn’t get involved with any woman, no matter how beautiful or sweet. No matter how her big green eyes pulled at him or how sexy her curves were. They couldn’t.

  “I swept away the broken glass. Everything is fine now.” Burke grabbed his own drink. He didn’t struggle with the liquor the way Jessa did. Burke could imbibe it all night and never notice the effects.

  Thanks,” Jessa said quietly. Her attention moved between them as though trying to pick apart their differences. “I still shouldn’t be dipping into the stock.”

  “Don’t worry. We won’t tell,” Burke said with a wink.

  Cole had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Burke was using his seductive voice. He wanted this girl bad.

  “Tell me something, sweetheart. Why aren’t you at home with your husband?”

  “Smooth,” Cole said under his breath. One of Burke’s shoulders came up in a negligent shrug.

  Jessa’s lips curved up in a smile. She held up her left hand. “No husband. And before you come up with a subtle way of asking, no boyfriend either. I’m on my own this Christmas. My family, well, let’s just say they aren’t exactly in the picture.”

  Cole didn’t like the sound of that. She didn’t look like she could be much over twenty-two or twenty-three. She was living in midtown Manhattan on her own? “Are your parents gone?”

  She shook her head. “No. They don’t approve of my choices. I decided to pursue art instead of big business. So they cut me off. Luckily, my aunt runs this place. She gave me a room and a job.”

  “So you live here?” Cole heard himself asking. He needed to make sure she was okay, then haul his brother upstairs to their room so they weren’t tempted to linger all night and work their way inside her. Yeah, that was a solid plan. Instead, he found himself settling into the comfy sofa and inching closer to her delectable body. She would be small in between them. She could nestle in the middle, her breasts against his chest, her ass cradled against Burke.

  He glanced at his brother as Jessa talked about her room and the view of Central Park. Burke arched a brow. Come on, brother. She’s right here. She’s gorgeous and she’s alone. We can take care of her. We can make her feel good tonight.

  And what about tomorrow? They’d had the argument moments before Jessa had taken a header off that rickety ladder and almost broken her neck. Cole had just finis
hed his “we’re-undercover-and-things-could-get-dangerous” spiel when he’d seen her begin to fall. He’d moved faster than he had in forever, getting there just in time to catch her.

  Not that Jessa Wade wasn’t tempting. And so fucking luscious she made his mouth water. She was attractive in a way no woman had been to him before. She also wasn’t a good-time girl. That fact was stamped all over her face. She was the kind of girl a man dated and cared for. Eventually married. She absolutely wasn’t the kind of girl a man shared with his twin brother for the night. She looked so innocent. Hell, she would probably run from a ménage if he even suggested it. Not that many women truly wanted one. Sure they fantasized, but when push came to shove…not so much. Then when he added his other proclivities on top of it… Cole winced. Definitely not.

  Of course, he mused as she and Burke chatted, his friend Dex had found a woman to share with his two brothers. And they all topped her. Hell, he and Burke were practically normal compared to the James gang.

  But that wasn’t the real issue. He and his brother were knee-deep in a case involving missing girls being sold into sexual slavery.

  At the mental reminder, he sat back up. Jessa didn’t need to get involved in that. God, she really didn’t need to get involved with them, but fuck if he wasn’t salivating over her. He’d met her thirty minutes ago, and he already wanted to know about her childhood, her favorite foods, and how she’d feel around his cock. Too damn dangerous.

  “Gosh, that’s enough about me. I’m going on and on.” She blushed, the color invading her skin like a rosy blanket. He’d been surrounded by tough women for too long. Jessa’s softness was getting to him.

  “We don’t mind, do we, Cole?” Burke’s question was pointed like a dagger. Don’t fuck this up. I want her.

  Cole wanted her, too, but he was more realistic. Burke was an optimist who thought the world crapped rainbows and that the sun really fucking would come out tomorrow. Cole refused to believe that shit until he saw it. Burke seemed to have gotten all the positive DNA their parents had to give, leaving Cole the broody realist. Still, his mouth moved as though it agreed fully with his cock, rather than his wholly sensible brain. “No, we don’t mind, baby.”