Operation Mustang [The Service Club 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage and More) (2 page)

“They haven’t succeeded yet, and they won’t.” She wished she felt as certain of that as she sounded.

“They will.” Chester sounded just as certain and, blast the man, probably felt it, too. “And it’ll be good for you when they do.”

How could he say that? The Rylon brothers would break her. They wouldn’t stop until they owned her and everything she possessed. She’d lose everything from her honor and composure to her womanly self-worth, right along with her body and heart.

“I already hired him,” Chester said again just as calm and patient as the first time.

“Then fire him, for Pete’s sake,” Mustang shot back. She had to stand her ground on this. She might put on a strong front but, in truth, her resistance had been slipping for years. She managed to hold on only because she’d learned to keep a relatively safe distance from Lucky, and the other two Rylon brothers were hardly ever around.

“Give me one good, responsible,
business
reason why I should, and I’ll be happy to.”

Mustang didn’t miss the emphasis he put on the word
business
. She opened her mouth, ready to fire off a dozen and one reasons, and bit her tongue, knowing there wasn’t a one of them that had a thing to do with business.

“You think you’re slick, don’t you?”

Chester didn’t answer, but his wrinkled lips twitched. “You might want to hurry with that reason, seein’ as how he’ll be in here any second. Then again, I suppose you could wait and tell him yourself.”

The unmistakable low rumble of a Mustang Cobra engine joined the warning drifting on the air. Anticipation, completely unwanted and too potent to ignore, zinged through her veins, slamming into a fear that threatened to turn her blood to ice. She heard the engine shut off, the faint sound of the door closing, and the increasingly louder sound of footsteps as they moved up the front steps and right into the house.

She didn’t turn when he entered the office. She didn’t have to. Any woman with an ounce of estrogen in her veins would feel the man’s presence. It enveloped her, overpowering her senses and leaving her feeling drunk on sheer male power. She stared dumbstruck as Chester pushed himself from the desk chair, adjusted his blue jeans around his hefty waist, and walked around the corner of the desk.

“Well, now, sure is good to see our service boys back on American soil where they belong,” Chester commented, his lips stretching into a wide grin that deepened the wrinkles outlining his eyes.

“Chester, you haven’t changed a bit.”

Diek hadn’t either if the sound of his voice was any indication. Mustang’s heart thudded unevenly as his deep baritone voice rolled over her like hot oil, completely visceral and utterly undesired.

“Ain’t much changin’ you can do at my age besides getting older and uglier.” Chester chuckled.

“I could add a few things,” Mustang muttered before she could stop herself. More stubborn and nosier, in her opinion, would make fantastic additions to his short list today.

Chester’s chuckle morphed into a boom of laughter. “I expect you could. I feel it’s my civil duty to warn you boys, Mustang was just about to give me a good reason why I should fire you, Diek, before you even get started.”

Boys
? Alarm danced across Mustang’s flesh. That was twice Chester put the word in plural form. She had been in sensory overload from the moment she heard the Cobra’s engine. So much so that she failed to separate the erotic sensations wreaking havoc on her mind and body. She had even failed to realize Diek hadn’t entered the office alone. The mistake would cost her, big-time. The primal, predatory heat oozing from Diek collided with an equally recognizable intoxicating dominance that could only belong to his younger brother, Gunner.
Christ on a pogo stick!
No wonder she felt like she was sinking.

“Was she now?” Diek sounded intrigued. “Well, go ahead, darlin’. I’m all ears.”

All arrogance, confidence, and authority was more like it, but Mustang thought it better not to point that out. She had one chance to keep her head above water here, and damn if she could come up with even a half-assed business excuse believable enough to fire him.

Mustang braced herself, taking a deep breath and doing a quick count to ten before she finally turned to face him. She could’ve counted to a trillion, and it wouldn’t have done her a bit of good. Her gaze slammed into Gunner’s first, and an all-too familiar hunger kicked up in her belly. A black Stetson hid his dirty-blond hair, resting low on his forehead and shadowing his milk-chocolate eyes. An olive drab T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders made for a woman’s nails to dig into and defined the muscles in his chest to pristine perfection. Camo BDUs hugged his narrow hips and long legs.

“I hadn’t heard you were in town.” Would it have helped if she’d known? Maybe. Despite her slipping resistance, she had always managed to keep a solid guard in place when any of the Rylon brothers were around, but it had been a long time since she’d had to arm herself against all three at once.

“I slipped in undetected.” Gunner’s tone held a hint of amusement and a buttload of supremacy.

“Somethin’ all that SEAL trainin’ taught you,” Chester commented.

Mustang knew from firsthand experience that no one had to teach Gunner Rylon anything about slipping in anywhere undetected. He’d successfully done it to her, stealthily positioning himself in her every fantasy and etching out a place for himself in her heart. Hell, all three brothers had done it, and she hadn’t stood a chance at stopping them.

“How long will the two of you be stateside?” She directed her question at both of them, but kept her gaze on Gunner.

“A few weeks.” He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his BDUs, drawing her focus down to the impressive bulge the camouflage did nothing to conceal. The sight acted like a whip, slashing at her channel and stinging her clit. “Maybe more.”

“Indefinitely.”

Diek’s response had her snapping her gaze his way. Her attention skimmed over another black Stetson hiding what she knew to be dark hair beneath and perched low over unreadable cobalt eyes. Her gaze lingered on the fading scar marring his left cheek, on the sensual shape of his lips, and on the masculine curve of his jaw. He wore combat boots with a black T-shirt and black BDUs that accented every hard-toned, roughened muscle and plane of his drool-worthy body to distraction.

“Define
indefinitely
,” Mustang said slowly. She was in over her head, always had been. It appeared after all these years, she was getting a true test of her defenses right here, right now, and she felt the wall crumbling piece by piece faster than she could think to stop it.

“I’m figuring Mr. Webster did a fair job of that back in the eighteen hundreds,” Diek drawled.

Mustang figured Mr. Webster did a fair job of defining
doom
back then, too. He’d only forgotten one thing, a big, glossy color photo of her right next to the word. She might not have been alive in the eighteen hundreds, but she reckoned any edition of the dictionary made within the last fifteen years could’ve included her picture and given a far more apt definition to the word.

Fifteen years she’d been fighting to maintain her dignity, her self-respect, her resolve against these men. By all accounts, that should go in the record books as the longest war in American history.

And it ain’t over yet
.

No, as she held Diek’s gaze and got lost in the confidence and desire swirling in their cobalt depths, she got an intense feeling the real battle was just beginning.

“Then you’re back in Horn Hill to stay this time?” No matter how good the dictionary definition of the word, she still needed clarification. Maybe he didn’t really mean
indefinitely
, but merely awhile, a week longer than Gunner, a month. Hell, she could even find a way to handle two months, but not forever.

Please God, not forever
.

“That’s right.”

All her hopes died with the almost imperceptible nod of his head and those two words laden with erotic promises.
Help me.
She knew there wasn’t a soul on the face of the planet who could really save her.

The sound of the back door slamming shut, followed by rapid heavy footfalls, offered her salvation for now. Thomas Waverly came to a halt just outside the office door and peeked his curly red head inside. His gaze landed instantly on Mustang.

“Lucky sent me to find you. He said you wanted to know the minute Raven went into labor.”

Mustang’s heart skipped a beat as twin zaps of excitement and concern shot through her chest. She’d been reluctant to breed her favorite horse, worried that something could go wrong to harm the animal she’d had since she was a little girl. She likely wouldn’t have gone through with it if it hadn’t been for Lucky. She’d spent far less time sidestepping him on the ranch in the last eleven months simply because of his veterinarian abilities and his mutual love for Raven.

“Thank you, Thomas.” She cast a quick glance to each of the men in the room in turn as she headed for the door. “Gentlemen, we’ll have to finish this later.”

* * * *

Damn right they would finish this later and a whole lot more.

Diek barely let her get three steps out the door before he started to follow her. A quick glance at Gunner and Chester on his way by told him the other men would be close at his heels. His much longer strides caught him up to her quickly, but he slowed his pace, allowing her to stay in the lead in favor of admiring the view.

And what a view it was, he thought as his attention fell to her jean-clad ass. The woman’s hips rotated like a well-oiled metronome with each determined step. He wanted to feel that gyration as she sat on top of him with her hands bound behind her back, riding his cock while one of his brothers fucked her mouth and the other filled her ass.

“Who sired the foal?”

Her step faltered at his question, but she didn’t stop. She whipped her head around, casting him a look over her shoulder that had her long chestnut ponytail flying. Resignation moved through her large blue eyes. She obviously hadn’t realized he’d followed her, but Raven occupied her mind enough for her not to put up a fight.

“Kinger.”

Diek lifted a brow. Well, now. That came as a surprise. “Kinger as in Austin Roscoe’s prize Mustang?” He knew Austin had been after her for years to get the two purebred horses together and produce an offspring, but she’d always refused.

She reached the door to the barn, yanked it open, and only then did she stop. She turned half-around to face him, her expression daring him to comment. “Yeah, you got a problem with that?”

“I’m shocked you didn’t.” Something moved through her eyes at that. Fear that he realized why she’d fought it so hard, perhaps. It confirmed what he’d always thought. She hadn’t wanted to breed Raven with Kinger because, in doing so, she was offering her most loved mare to the stallion of a member of the Service Club. He knew the way Mustang thought. That simple act, even between horses rather than humans, created a link to her and the club, a club that would give her everything she desired and everything she fought so hard to resist.

“Kinger is a beautiful horse, as is Raven.” The defensive tone in her voice had Diek biting back a grin. “Both are purebred. They were a perfect match.”

“Your horse, your ranch.” Diek let the grin unfold on his lips, knowing it would get her back up even more.

“Damn right it is.”

Diek sobered. “Nobody’s trying to take that from you, Mustang.”

She blinked at him. A world of emotions flashed through her expression too fast to define. She cut them off, hardening her gaze. “It wouldn’t do anyone any good to try.”

She spun around and stomped into the barn, letting the door swing back. It would’ve smacked him in the face if he hadn’t been paying attention, which had likely been her intent. He chuckled as Gunner stopped beside him, leaving enough space for Chester to enter the barn first and waiting until the older man walked on before he spoke.

“Some homecoming reception she’s giving us, huh?”

“What? You were expecting her to get all doodied up in a fancy dress and invite us to a home-cooked dinner?”

Gunner barked a laugh. “Hell, no. I’d have turned her down if she’d tried that.”

“Yeah, so would I.” Diek liked her better this way. Feisty, stubborn, and sexy as sin, with a tank load of wants and more ammo than any woman had a right to possess. She knew how to use it, too, securely holding her line of defense as she kept herself from giving in to her own desires.

“She’s doing fine.” Lucky’s gentle tone drifted from the horse stall inside the barn.

Diek motioned for Gunner to enter first, following his brother as they walked softly to the small group peering over the stall door. Mustang stood ramrod straight next to Lucky, his hand splayed on the small of her back as he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. Diek struggled to tamp down the jealousy that rose in his gut at seeing his middle brother snuggled so intimately with her. He doubted she even realized how she seemed to be melting into his touch the longer he held her, the longer his undertone delivered the words she needed to hear. Diek noticed, though, and he enjoyed watching her resistance slip even that least little bit despite the twin demons of envy that reared their ugly heads inside him.