Remy's Release [Submissive Sirens] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (5 page)

Another long silence, this one so long Remy thought Gabriel had hung up the phone. “Duly noted. Good night, Miss Park.”

The phone went dead in Remy’s hand, but not before she had the insane impression that Gabriel Hartley approved of her.

As she replaced the phone in its cradle, Remy was struck by the odd thought that it looked like Jessie was going to get her happy ending, and it was going to be even happier than she’d planned. For now, Remy thought wryly, Jessie just had to survive what was likely going to be the spanking of a lifetime.

Remy was jolted out of her reverie by the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen. Judging by the noise they were making, all three triplets would be through the door in a matter of moments, and Remy took the opportunity to steady herself. She took deep breaths, willed her pussy not to cream, and told that voice, for the umpteenth time, to shut the hell up. She clutched her cup of tea like a lifeline as Knox, Joss, and Drake came through the door. Her glance went from the triplets’ serious faces to the missive in Knox’s hands. None of the triplets were smiling, and all three of them looked cool and professional. Remy set her teacup down and turned back to her team. She knew those looks. “What’s the job?” she asked.

“Intel.” Drake’s answer was curt. “Wheels up in thirty.”

Remy sat on a sofa in their suite, reading her copy of the file they’d been given. As jobs went, this one was fairly standard. Low risk, little to do apart from gathering the required information and turning it over to their contact at the UN so the appropriate people could decide what to do with it. Bile rose in her throat as she reread the profile of the fucker they were after—a French arms dealer named Pierre Contois. He was responsible for providing munitions to Columbian cartels, African child armies, and homegrown terrorist cells in the US. As far as Remy was concerned, she thought it was too bad they had only been hired to gather intel and not to take the asshole out.

“Are you done with the file?” Drake stood above her, holding the triplets’ copies in his hands.

“Yes, thank you.” Remy handed Drake her file, having committed it to memory on the flight to Monaco.

Drake carried all four files to the fireplace in the corner of the suite’s sitting room and tossed them onto the grate. Joss had been tending a small fire for the last twenty minutes, making sure it had enough life to erase the reason for their trip to Monaco.

Remy watched as the fire crackled and burned, eating up the photos and memos contained in the files. She really wished someone had thought to bring marshmallows. She loved toasting marshmallows.

“So.” Drake had resumed his previous seat on an overstuffed ottoman, his massive frame somehow managing to dwarf the piece of furniture. “Are we all good with what we’re doing tomorrow night?” Each of them had a part to play, and it was Drake’s job to make sure they knew their parts inside out, backward and forward, standing on their heads if necessary.

Remy took a deep breath and felt a sense of calm settle over her. She embraced the calm as part of her professional persona, knowing she would do whatever it took to get the job done. “You and I go to Contois’s party tomorrow night. We are a wealthy American couple who have been stupid enough, I mean generous enough, to contribute to his philanthropic efforts, which have nothing to do with the abduction and brainwashing of African children who are trained as mercenaries.”

Drake glared at Remy for a moment before his eyes softened. “I know you want this guy, Remy. We all do. But this isn’t for us to decide, and you know it. The UN wants a list of clients he has on his computer, and they spent ages and lots of euros creating these identities for us. We need to respect their wishes and bring them the intel, trusting that they’re not going to let this fucker get away with jack shit. It will be okay, sweetheart. But, Remington—”

Remy gulped. He only called her Remington when he was mad at her or really wanted to make a point.

“Remington, you will not jeopardize this mission because you want to make it personal. You will remember that we are a team, and as such, you will do nothing to compromise your teammates.”

Remy felt her eyes go huge as she looked at Drake. “Of course, Drake. I would never do anything to put any of you at risk.” She was devastated he thought she’d put anything before their safety.

She felt the sofa dip beside her as Knox put a comforting arm around her, pulling her head down to his shoulder. She was annoyed with Drake and couldn’t help but stiffen as Knox stroked her hair. “It’s okay, love. What he meant to say, even though he did a terrible job of it, is that he doesn’t want you to get hurt.”

Remy glanced over at Drake, who stood abruptly and walked to where she was sitting.

“You will not risk yourself.” Drake’s voice was hoarse, and Remy couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. “Remington,” he said as he crouched down in front of her, “you will do nothing to put yourself in even the tiniest amount of danger.”

Remy managed a small smile. “I hate to break this to you, revered leader, but I think we might all be in a little danger while we’re attending a party at an arms dealer’s château, using assumed identities as we send his client list to the UN so they can arrest his felonious ass.”

Joss snickered from where he’d finished burning the files, and Knox gave her shoulder an encouraging squeeze. Even Drake looked like he was about to crack a smile for a millisecond.

“Even so,” Drake continued, “you will be very, very careful tomorrow night.” He reached forward, causing Remy’s breath to hitch in her throat. He rubbed a lock of her hair between his thumb and forefinger, and the small but intimate contact was enough to make a group of butterflies start flying through her stomach. Then he released her hair and retreated to his ottoman. Knox dropped his arm from around her shoulders, and the moment was over.

“Let’s try this again.” Drake frowned. “And this time let’s stick to the plan. Remington and I are Mr. and Mrs. Tony Joyce, a new-money couple who discovered a quarter-billion worth of natural gas under their property. We’ve been contributing to Monsieur Contois’s”—Drake grimaced—“charity for the last two years. We were thrilled and overjoyed when he invited us to his party in Monaco, and we’re going to spend the whole time being impressed by the splendor of the château. We’ll walk around with our mouths open, wandering into rooms we shouldn’t and acting ‘aw-shucks’ when anyone shoos us out. We’ll wind up in the office.”

Knox took over the narrative. “I’ll be waiting outside in the garden along with Joss and my favorite gun, your favorite guns, too. We’ll arrive with different groups and wait outside on the grounds, take a stroll through the gardens and whatever. We’ll make sure no one sees us together. You won’t be able to pack a piece on your way into this par-tay since Contois’s men will be the only ones permitted firearms. Drake will take Remy for a walk in the garden, and I’ll walk her back in so she can escort me to the office while Drake shows Joss which window it is. We’ll go to the office and let Drake and Joss in through the window so Joss can work his magic with Contois’s computer, and from that point on we work as a team and no one separates. I’ll be standing guard in case anyone else comes exploring.”

“My part’s pretty simple,” Joss added. “Once I break through Contois’s security, I just need to copy the list for the UN onto an external hard drive and drop it tomorrow morning at the checkpoint we got from the UN contact. I’ll reestablish his security, wipe any evidence of what I’ve been up to, and we’re good to go.”

Remy considered her part of the plan. She was the ghost of the team, the combination of her innate grace and physical strength allowing her to breach pretty much any room, object, or building. She was an expert at climbing and other acrobatics, and she was often called upon to be the first one into a given situation since she was a master at stealth. Unfortunately, her particular skills weren’t much in demand this time. This was really Joss’s show. The rest of them just had to get him in and out safely. “I’m there to be eye candy,” Remy said. “I need to be ready to help if anything goes wrong, but beyond that, I’m going to be pretty, look like I’m having a ton of fun, and drink as much of Contois’s champagne as I can.” She smiled winningly at Drake, whose eyes had narrowed at the champagne bit.

“Remy.” He sighed. “What are we going to do with you?”

“Leave me alone for the rest of the afternoon?” Remy asked, laughing. “I have a whole lot of things to do at the spa, and none of them involve anyone being a fun-sucker. Stop sucking my fun, Drake!” She punched him lightly on the shoulder and made her way to the door of their suite, sticking her tongue out at the triplets as she went.

“Uh, Remy?” Joss asked tentatively.

“Hmm? Did you need something before I go? I don’t want to be late since I’m booked for the whole afternoon.”

“Exactly what are you having done? I mean…” Joss started to sputter, and to Remy’s utter fascination, he seemed to be blushing a little. “I’m all for you getting a facial, sweetheart, but what are you having done that takes the whole afternoon?”

Remy smiled sweetly, and began ticking things off on her fingers. “Well, I am actually having a facial, but there’s also massage, a seaweed wrap, mani-pedi with paraffin, salt scrub...” She watched gleefully as the eyes of each man glazed over. No way did they know what any of that stuff was, and no way would they care enough for her to explain.

“Fine, fine.” Joss waved his hand tolerantly, smiling over at her. “You have fun this afternoon, and we’ll see you for supper.”

“Oh, I almost forgot. I’m also getting waxed.” Remy didn’t know what devil sat on her shoulder, inspiring her to blurt that out, but the effect of her statement on the triplets was instantaneous. Drake’s mouth hung open as he stared at her, and Knox swatted Joss on the back after Joss seemed to choke.

“Let me get this straight,” Joss wheezed. “You’re getting waxed...and you’re getting a facial?”

Remy stared at him, artfully arranging her face into an expression of confused innocence. “Well, yeah. I like the way it feels. And facials always leave my skin so soft... Ciao!” she called as she left, blowing kisses over her shoulder. She ignored the growls the triplets made under their breath. Just because the triplets weren’t hers to seduce didn’t mean she couldn’t look smoking hot for them, and they really were fun to tease. Remy smiled to herself, anticipating their reactions to what she planned to wear to the party tomorrow.

Knox sucked in a painful breath as Remy emerged from her room in their suite. He felt like he’d been kicked in the gut, and he could tell from the silence and utter stillness around him that his brothers felt the same.
Holy shit.
His brain couldn’t seem to progress past that as Remy did a slow turn, taking advantage of their riveted attention.
Holy shit, indeed.

“You like?” she asked, although it looked like she already knew the answer. She smiled at each of them in turn, a sweet smile that made her look for all the world like the cat who ate the canary.

Knox was the first to recover. He swallowed painfully against the lust choking him. “You look incredible.” His voice came out gravelly even to his own ears, and he cleared his throat and hoped she hadn’t noticed. “Turn around again.”

As Remy pivoted slowly, Knox let his eyes roam over her luscious form. She was wearing a sleek, black gown that molded to her curves, pooling over her magnificent breasts and clinging to her rounded ass. Knox did a double take as she faced away from him. The back of the dress was completely open, almost all the way to that ass. The fabric draped so low he was surprised he couldn’t see the top of the cleft between her cheeks. He could see two dimples just above her ass though, and his mouth watered as he pictured leaning down to lick those twin divots. He wanted to stop her from continuing to turn so he could focus properly on the creamy skin of her back, and he bet if he got close enough to her, palmed the curves of that sweet ass, and peered down the back of her dress, he’d be able to see that crack. He’d love to slide a hand down the back of her dress and delve between her cheeks to the rosebud hiding there. Knox wondered, hardly for the first time, if she’d ever taken a cock in her ass. He practically drooled over that thought.

Remy twirled and stood facing him once more. She looked a little more nervous than before, and she stood with her hands clasping her evening bag. “I do look okay, right? You guys are kind of freaking me out, what with the silence.”

Knox watched as Joss pried his eyes away from Remy’s tits—a remarkable feat as far as Knox was concerned—and smiled at her. “You look hot.”

Remy relaxed visibly, laughing at Joss’s bluntness and swatting him with her purse.

Drake approached Remy cautiously, as though she were a live grenade. “I don’t know about this,” he said.

Knox watched as Remy’s face fell and could happily have kicked Drake’s ass.

“What don’t you know?” Knox was a little belligerent, and he knew he was walking on dangerous ground. “She looks amazing, and you know it.”

Drake’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I’m not talking about that, jackass. Every man with a pulse, and probably a few women, will want a piece of her tonight. Remy, don’t you think you’re showing a little too much skin? I mean…” He floundered, much to his brothers’ amusement. “You look like a million bucks, but it’s pretty attention-getting, no?”

“Exactly, Drake,” Remy purred. “If people are fixated on me, they won’t be paying attention to the three of you. And besides…” She sniffed haughtily. “This isn’t skank couture. It’s Dior. I trust Christian Dior to allow me to show the perfect amount of skin. If you have a problem with it, don’t look. I’m going to touch up my makeup.”

With that, she flounced back into her room and slammed the door, leaving the three of them gaping like idiots.

Knox walked over to Drake and slapped him on the back, maybe a little harder than was strictly necessary. “Smooth, Drake. Real smooth. Nothing like making the girl think she looks trashy to guarantee a pleasant evening for all of us. Honestly, what’s with the grandfather routine?”