Cowboy Boots and Unadulterated Pleasures [Cowboy Boots 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (17 page)

The hurt was overshadowing the anger as he studied two men who had been more like his brothers. Kemper’s eyes softened as if he had extraordinary compassion, and that alone was telling. Kemper rarely gave a damn.

“You fell in love,” Kemper said honestly. “Gabe fell in love.”

“And you think Crue is exempt?” Colt asked, swinging his arm at the television set. “You and I watched the same show, bro. You don’t think he looks like a man in love?”

Colt’s chest tightened. His head pounded with the onslaught of a raging headache, generally brought on by a spike in blood pressure. In that moment, the twinge of jealousy he’d felt earlier when he’d watched Kelly and Crue make love disintegrated.

“No.” Brand spoke up. “He isn’t exempt by any means. But he isn’t you and he isn’t Gabe. He’s always been a smooth operator. You know this, Colt. Nothing bothers him. He’s laid-back. I’ve watched him work for years and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, he could fuck Kelly’s lights out, roll over and grab a condom in one hand and a pistol in the other, shoot an intruder, and go right at her pussy again. Nothing fazes him.”

“Nice image,” Kemper said, smirking.

“Really,” Colt grumbled.

“If you want to know what I think, here it is,” Brand said, showing leadership abilities Colt never dreamt he’d possess. “I think you should—”

The house phone next to the computer rang. Gabe reentered the room as if he were shocked to see the bright red phone ringing. Colt was relieved to have been interrupted. The few times Brand had hopped on his soapbox, he’d stepped on more than a few toes.

“It’s Donovan,” Colt muttered.

Kemper picked up the receiver and hit the large speaker option button at the same time. “This is Kemper. Go ahead. We’re all here.”

“I know damn well who I have on the phone and who is in the room,” Brock Donovan said, his rage evident as he squawked in the box. “Where the hell is Daniel?”

“He’s resting,” Colt said. “I gave him something for pain and it knocked him out.”

“Well, Dr. Candy,” Brock drawled. “If you would please be so kind as to take him a bedpan and tell him to take a morning piss and get his sorry ass up, I’d be much obliged. Maybe with a little nudging from me, he’ll decide to lead this team.”

“Brock, we’ve got this under control,” Colt said.

“Like hell you do, Candy,” Brock grated out. “I’ve been watching this whole thing play out since four o’clock this morning.”

Colt clenched his fists.
Damn him
. He’d known what was going down and hadn’t warned them?

“Kind of pisses you off, doesn’t it? I couldn’t be sure how much you guys knew so I waited until the scene unfolded and, quite frankly, expected to see a murder. If Lorenzo had remained true to his normal behavior, we would’ve witnessed Daniel’s demise and the Lorenzo problem would’ve ended there. Instead, you guys had to fuck it up and send Kelly out of the city.”

Colt’s gaze bounced around the room as he searched for the eyes in the sky. Brock laughed. “You ain’t gonna find the equipment, Colt. You’ve got a better chance of winning a high-stakes poker game.”

“If you knew what was going down, why didn’t you alert us to the problem?” Brand asked.

Colt’s gaze met Daniel’s as he entered the room. He dropped to the only sofa in the room as all eyes turned to him. Colt saw the broken man. He saw the gambler who’d lost everything—his job, his family, and more importantly, his self-respect.

“Because he wanted me terminated,” Daniel said, apparently taking a minute to slowly process what he’d overheard before entering the room. “Isn’t that right, Donovan?”

“Colt, you’re in charge,” Brock said, ignoring Daniel. “The US-West division is yours. You’re the only one who has the training and leadership to take the reins. Daniel can be escorted to the airport. I’ll have a private jet waiting for him tomorrow morning. I’ll send the details by e-mail. Get him out of there.

“Brand and Kemper, I don’t know what you think you see in Colt, but I don’t look at him and see a wimp. I once had to work around the lady in my life, too, but the fact didn’t weaken me. She only made me stronger. That said, Crue doesn’t need to be underground. The four of you—five if Daniel decides to be a man and help someone other than himself—should be able to dig them out within twelve to sixteen hours. I’m faxing over some instructions to help speed along the retrieval process. We’ll have teams out there tonight to restore the unit to its original condition.”

“Any intel on Lorenzo?” Colt asked, observing Daniel. Colt wondered what was going through his mind. Once a fearless leader, a decorated officer in the military, and later a well-respected commander in the Underground Unit, Daniel had made poor choices that cost him everything important.

Colt would never understand him. He’d been excused one too many times. Instead of viewing his opportunities as a second chance at new life, he’d clung to his addiction, and his inability and unwillingness to walk away while he was ahead seemed a likely story for all problem gamblers.

“We can’t discuss Lorenzo at the moment with present company in the room,” Brock said sternly.

Brock’s final words were apparently the final nail in the coffin. Daniel rose to his feet and walked to the window. Staring out over the canyon, he said, “Tell my daughter that I’m sorry and I love her.”

Everything happened in slow motion yet too quickly for anyone to stop the plan Daniel had decided to follow. Before they could reach him, Daniel had pulled the .45 from his slacks, raising the gun to his forehead as if to salute those he’d once led. Then, he secured the muzzle against his temple and shot himself.

“Someone kill the connection between the tunnels and upstairs!” Colt screamed, dropping to his knees and covering Daniel’s body with his own. The last thing he wanted was for Kelly to see her father’s fallen form, the bullet’s damage.

“Ah fuck,” Gabe muttered, standing over Daniel.

“What have we done?” Kemper asked, pacing wildly as he rubbed his barely there hair. “Damn it, Daniel. Damn you!”

Brand’s eyes watered as he squatted across from Colt. He bowed his head and looked as if he uttered a prayer, then to Colt’s surprise, he walked over to the phone and said, “Donovan, I think you’ve caused enough damage here today. If we need you, we’ll be in touch.”

Before Brock said anything else, Brand disconnected the call and yanked the cord from the wall.

Kemper and Gabe backed away from Daniel’s body as if they were afraid his blood was contaminated with a gambler’s poison, a toxic fume that might leave them susceptible to the same addiction that had driven the gambler and ruined the man.

Colt squeezed his eyes shut, stuffing his thumb and forefinger in the corners in an effort to stop the tears. He’d spent years under Daniel’s guidance. He’d trained under him, fought beside him, and now here he was, watching as his blood ran free of his body, leaving a pool of rich color around his head like a tarnished red crown inlayed with chunks of his scalp.

“God forgive us,” Colt whispered as he fought to come to terms with the loss. Rising to his feet, he immediately turned his focus to three of his men. “I’ll get this mess cleaned up.” He didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but he had to draw on every inch of strength to keep from breaking in front of them. “No one mention this to Crue. We’ll tell them after we dig them out.”

“He’ll scan the footage when he first wakes up,” Brand pointed out. “You know he’ll be concerned about the team.”

“If he does, he’ll make a call,” Colt said quietly, pain stricken by the horror he’d see on Kelly’s face once she realized her father had killed himself.

“They’ll be up soon. If I know Crue, he’ll start making his demands and screaming for us to get him out of there,” Gabe said.

“Go now,” Colt said, realizing his orders sounded more like a plea. “We need them out. There’s no doubt Daniel was in touch with Lorenzo on a regular basis. When Lorenzo can’t reach him, they may return here. And if they do, they’ll be better prepared with more manpower.”

Gabe and Brand left the room. Kemper studied him. “You okay, man?”

“No, but give me an hour and I’ll be fine.”

“We all will,” Kemper promised. “Let me know if you need a hand.”

Kemper left and Colt’s phone rang in his pocket. Fishing the device from his jeans, he said, “Donovan, I’m in no mood to talk to you.”

“Maybe you will be when you see what I just faxed over. Daniel cut a deal this morning. He must’ve realized we knew all about his transgressions when he walked into the room with his head between his legs. He was definitely ready to kiss his sorry ass good-bye. He’d already said farewell to everything else he viewed as important.”

“You had a hand in stripping away his pride,” Colt accused. “The way you handled this situation left a lot to be desired.”

“He traded his debt for you and the rest of the team,” Brock said. “And Kelly.”

“What are you talking about?” Colt asked, feeling as if he’d been shot through the heart.

“Lorenzo and Daniel spoke on the phone while you and the others were watching your home movies. Daniel cut a deal with Lorenzo. He agreed to wipe out the debt in exchange for your lives—and Kelly’s—but promised not to kill Kelly by brutal means.”

Colt nearly fell against the wall. Remembering Donovan had his eyes on him as he shared the news, he forced himself to the window and stared out at the picturesque sunrise, trying to forget the harrowing events in the recent past. “What kind of father does this sort of thing to his daughter?”

“One with his ass in a bind,” Brock replied. “I’ve seen drug addicts trade their kids for a fix on the streets, even when they’re fully aware of a pedophile’s intentions before he takes their child by the hand.

“I’ve watched the exchange of sickening and perverse favors between pimps and their whores when they’re trying to keep them addicted to the needle so they’ll keep pumping cocks. Problem gamblers are addicts, too. They’re no different than any other. The self-destruction often spirals out of control and eventually affects those they once loved and admired most.”

“But to trade his debt for his daughter’s life?” Colt was sick to his stomach.

“Now you see why I pushed him over the edge,” Brock said.

Colt pulled at his bottom lip as he listened to Donovan carefully relay Lorenzo’s plans, what he held in store for each of them. He’d been wrong before when he’d watched Kemper and Gabe back away from Daniel’s corpse.

Daniel
was
contaminated. His blood was tainted.

As Colt stepped over the Daniel’s body, he felt no remorse. All sadness had been wiped away. He’d fetch the fax and show the others. Then, if he had to dig out Crue and Kelly using his fingernails, he’d do what was necessary. One way or another, he would wrap his arms around her and hold her tonight. He’d soothe away the pain and reassure her. One day her life would return to some level of normalcy.

It just might take a while. The way he saw things, they still had his dream of forever on their side.

* * * *

Crue awoke with a start. Reaching for Kelly as if he’d been rolling over to her for the last three hundred and sixty-four days of his life, he leaned on one elbow and let his eyes adjust to the light.

“Kelly?”

When she didn’t respond, Crue slung the bedcovers back and left the bed, not taking the time to dress. He had plans anyway. He intended to haul her pretty little ass back to bed.

Entering the large recreation room, Crue immediately saw two frozen images. On the largest monitor, Colt hovered over a body, one he couldn’t identify due to the blood and gore.

“Kelly? Who is that?” His voice demanded immediate answers as his throat constricted. With Colt deliberately blocking their view, this couldn’t be good. “Kelly! Who?”

He hadn’t thought before he spoke. He’d failed to pay attention to the ashen color of her skin, the slump of her shoulders, or the tears on her face. He didn’t notice anything unusual until she refused him an answer.

“Ah no,” Crue said, dragging his palms across his face, reading her expression with ease now. For a man who typically prided himself for quick thinking on his feet, he’d failed miserably.

Daniel.
It has to be Daniel.

Squatting in front of her, Crue took her hands in his. “Kelly? What happened?”

She shook her head. Her eyes were set and her mouth was nothing more than a parched, thin line.

“Honey, who did this?”

“He did,” she whispered, still staring at the computer.

As if a foreign object had punctured his lung, he gasped for air and studied the screen. Colt had killed Daniel?
No!
He couldn’t believe that unless he saw proof with his own eyes. Shielding her body with his, Crue pried the remote control away from her fingers and held her against him.

Before he hit the rewind option, he studied his brother’s face. Colt looked as if he were trying to stand in between the camera’s lens and Daniel’s body. He had tried to protect Kelly.

Then what the fuck had he been thinking? Why would he kill one of their own? There had to be some mistake!

Pressing the rewind button, he hit pause before he played the footage. “Do you want me to wait?”

Kelly looked at him as if she didn’t see him. “No. I’ve seen it several times already.”

“Honey, why didn’t you wake me?”

She blinked once. “There wasn’t anything you could do.” She blinked again. “Unless you can turn back time.” She looked at him dead-on. “Can you do that, Crue?”

He cupped her cheek and planted a firm kiss on her forehead. This time, he cupped her nape and held her head against his chest, trying his best to be a symbol of strength when she needed him most. At the same time, he hit play and watched the nightmare unfold.

Brock Donovan—damned bastard—had taunted him. He’d stripped the man of what little pride he had left and then handed over the US-West Division of the Underground Unit to Colt. Refusing to discuss their mission in front of Daniel must’ve pushed him over the edge. Crue saw where this was heading long before Daniel lifted the gun and blew away any future chance of setting things right.