Something Sinful This Way Comes [McQueen Was My Valley 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (16 page)

Julian sighed. “I know what you mean. He’s this ephemeral being just flitting in and out of our lives. There’s no way he’s going to be happy unless he’s executing a bunch of raids in the jungle.”

Xandra finally turned to her lover. “Right. Exactly. I mean, what do
we
have to offer, to entice him away from that sort of life? He’s been military for decades, Julian. He’s been running around chopping off people’s—”

“I don’t think they do that,” Julian interrupted her.

“Well, you get what I mean. What sort of thrill does our little corner of Utah have to offer him? Why would he stay?”

Julian made a grand gesture. “You mean, aside from this?”

“Oh.” Xandra got it. Julian meant that Nathan could BASE jump from any one of these spires. That might be enough for any outdoor enthusiast. She shrugged. “Sure, he’s got this. But wouldn’t you rather that he stuck around because he wanted
us
, and not
this?
I mean, do we keep having to offer him more and more exciting death-defying stunts just to keep him around?”

Julian moved a foot closer to Xandra. “Of course I’d rather he stick around for us. I’ve thought about it, Xandra. I do know that it’s time for a change in Nathan’s life. And maybe I’m feeling a bit conceited, but somehow I think that we’re the answer. That Rory partner of his seemed to be a key element. I know it’s too much to expect, to think we could replace a lifetime of thrills and excitement with our boring lives.” Now Julian cradled her head to his sun-warmed chest. “Xandra, I think Nathan might be ready to let us into his new life. New life, see what I mean? I
do
think it’s possible for him to start an entirely new life here in Utah.”

Xandra laughed against Julian’s chest, exhausted and cynical. “You mean by fly fishing?”

“I actually
do
. Seriously. Picture it. Nathan fly fishing? I can see it.”

Xandra looked out over the broad expanse of the canyon. The only sound that emanated from this wide vista was the yakking of a vulture. It hovered on currents of warm air that feathered Xandra’s face, drifting about twenty feet from her before plummeting to the canyon’s floor.

She breathed and exhaled. “Yes. I can see it, too, Julian. Nathan would stay here, but he needs to have a job, a task. Fly fishing might fulfill that.”

Julian held her away at arm’s length and looked into her eyes. “Fly fishing would be the best thing for him, ever. I know about a hundred people who’ve been looking for a fishing guide.”

Xandra smirked. “Aside from the fact that he’s never fished?”

Julian’s smile was warm and genuine. “Yes. Even though he doesn’t know a black gnat from a royal coachman. He’s a quick, athletic man. And the life expectancy is much higher in the fishing occupation.”

Xandra tilted her head thoughtfully. “You could be right, Julian.” She rubbed her head against his pristine hairless chest. He caressed her. “We could be the answer to what he’s been looking for.”

“In more ways than one,” Julian whispered.

“Guys!” Nathan shouted.

They both swiveled their heads languidly. Nathan came toward them brandishing a cell phone. “You see? I was right. Sol just left me a voicemail. The ears worked. Xandra, your culprit has taken the bait.”

Julian and Xandra unhanded each other, approaching Nathan warily as though he was a zombie.

Julian said, “So he stole the photograph?”

“Yeah. And he said something weird in Spanish. Xandra, can you listen to this? You speak Spanish, right?”

“About eighth-grade level Spanish. Which button do I push?”

Xandra listened to the odd message from Sol. “Hey, Nathan. I can hear the robber on the ears, but he’s speaking in Spanish. I can understand that he’s telling someone he got the photograph, and then he laughs and says—I know this doesn’t make any sense, but I swear this is what he says—he tells the guy on the other line to ‘Just follow the balls when they make the street.’”

Xandra relayed Sol’s message to the men. “That doesn’t make any sense,” said Julian.

Xandra inhaled and exhaled. “It does if you know Ozzy Ramirez.”

There was no time to revel in their massive bout of sex as they jogged down the pinnacle. Nathan was fit to bust with pride that Xandra had allowed him and not Julian to be the first to fuck her. He didn’t like to compete with the amiable, gentle warden, but he couldn’t help feel pride that she had chosen him. They made a good threesome, a nice nontraditional triad. Nathan had never considered such a relationship before, but then he’d never run into two such desirable people at the same place and time. He didn’t want to give up the bounteous lodge owner, and he had no reason to stop seeing Julian.

It seemed to turn Julian on, urging and encouraging Nathan to greater heights of debauchery. Julian seemed content to get off on the orgasms of others, but Nathan dreaded the time Julian would be in the mood to bottom. Nathan had switched with Rory, depending on their mood. Dominant, submissive, it was all good. But with Rory’s devastating death, Nathan had been afraid to dominate anyone. He’d been able to get deep into subspace when Julian was ravishing him, but he doubted he could take control and be the active partner again. Taking control meant he’d have to be responsible for any harm or negative outcome, and he couldn’t take that responsibility again. Julian could fuck him, suck him all he wanted, and Nathan could play the victim, the blameless prey.

Of course Nathan and Rory had not been groping each other before the mission when they’d been hit. Rory and Nathan saved that for when they were safe in their jungle hangar, which was not terribly often. No, Nathan was hesitant to enter into a dominant relationship because he felt guilt over Rory’s death—that somehow he’d pushed Rory to go farther than he normally would have. They’d been partners and lovers flying the U-28 together for almost a year on intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance missions. They were as close as two married people could be—or so Nathan imagined, he wouldn’t really know—only Rory had died when they’d been hit. Nathan had successfully jumped.

They peeled off on the highway, heading west in Julian’s SUV. Xandra explained more fully about Ozzy Ramirez, who appeared to be a sort of gopher for her ex, Javier.

“He used to say that just because he thought it was funny. ‘Do not follow the balls when they make the street.’ That’s how I knew it was Ozzy. Ozzy’s just a heartless goon who would do any silly or brutal thing Javier demanded.”

Nathan said, “We’ve got to get someone more familiar with Spanish to listen in. That’s the only way we’re going to pinpoint where he is. Hopefully he’ll slip up and tell someone he’s just going into a 7-11 or whatever. Xandra, don’t you know anyone more fluent in Spanish?”

“Cass. I always have to fetch her to speak to Spanish-speaking people.”

“Call her if you’ve got a signal.” Everyone automatically thumbed their cell buttons to see if they were live. They were. “Tell her to get down to Sol’s suite and start listening. Write down everything that goon says if he’s still in range.”

After Xandra did so, Nathan instructed her further. “You’re not leaving our cabin until we slap cuffs on this asshole, Xandra.”

“But the gala!” she protested. “I’ll be safe enough if you’re escorting me.”

He liked the idea of escorting her to some gala—a fishing thing, he assumed, where he’d be called upon to discuss jointed minnow and vibration lures. He’d be proud to be seen with Xandra McQueen—he just didn’t want her to be seen in public until they apprehended this moron. He had to protest. “I don’t want you appearing in public yet. Don’t you agree, Julian?”

Julian thought otherwise. “I think it’s safe enough. He got what he wanted. The instant message threat was to give him what he wanted, and that’s what we did, letting him steal that last photo. He’s probably long gone by now, out of range of your bug.”

Julian was far less paranoid than Nathan. It probably made him much healthier and relaxed, but Nathan thought it was hazardous. Nathan harrumphed, “I don’t have anything suitable to wear to a gala, anyway. And don’t you wonder what old Ozzy wanted with a photograph? Xandra, they were willing to splash your—your—”

Xandra quirked an eyebrow at him. “Mistress of my Domain video?”

“Yes, all over the Interwebs just to get their hands on that damned photo of your sisters. What’s
in
that damned photo?”

Julian mentioned, “There could’ve been something inside the frame. Maybe it’s not even the photo itself that he wants.”

Nathan had thought of that but hadn’t put any more thought into it. Maybe because African militants didn’t usually run around with things so small and high-tech like tiny treasures implanted in photo frames. Africans were more the surface-to-air missile type.

Xandra fell silent, too, probably pouting about not being allowed to attend the gala. She might rebel if Nathan tried to keep her so strictly under his thumb. She might just let Julian spirit her off in some bosomy evening gown while Nathan was listening to Ozzy Fucking Ramirez go to the bathroom. He especially bristled when Julian put a soothing hand on Xandra’s knee. So he turned to Xandra and said in a low voice, “Hey, listen. We’ll get this guy within the first ten minutes, if he’s still anywhere near the lodge. He checked out as Sancho Reyes yesterday so he’s obviously got other accommodations nearby.”

“And there aren’t any,” said Xandra. “There’s not even anywhere to stay in Bird in Hand. The nearest motel is in Blanding.”

“Yet Sol just heard him yammer on about balls making the street. So maybe he’s stupid enough to be in the Neon Cocktail drumming up new drug business. After all, he had to come back to your suite three times to find the right photograph. Javier obviously didn’t tell him what the photograph was
of.
”

Xandra laughed, but Julian helped out by saying, “Hey, I’ve seen people do stupider things. I had a survivalist once electrocute himself by throwing a meat hook over a power line to steal electricity.”

“Hey,” said Nathan, trying to one-up his friend. “The Nairobi newspaper reported that a new speed train was voted down. It said, ‘Right now, people get to their destinations at just the right time. With the speed train, people would get there too soon.’”

“Yes,” Xandra said, “old Ozzy always struck me as being a few planets short of a federation. Javier probably told him to just steal a framed photo, and he kept getting the wrong one.”

“For whatever reason,” Nathan added. “Xandra. We’ll get this asshole within minutes. Then we can all attend the gala.”

“Good.” Xandra pouted. “Because you’re my date. Julian is Cass’s date. And she can’t very well attend if she’s stuck interpreting his phone calls to Javier, discussing balls in the street, drug deals, and his grandmother’s latest flan recipe.”

“Cass is my date?” Julian said cheerily. “Good. She’s a lot of fun.”

Nathan was puffed with pride than Xandra had selected him as her date. He pointed out, “If he’s still in the lodge talking to fishermen, he would have to speak English. Does he speak English?”

Xandra shrugged. “Well enough.”

“Okay. So we wouldn’t need Cass in that case. Julian, let me off here at the front door. What’s Sol’s suite number?”

* * * *

When Xandra and Julian got to Sol’s suite, Nathan was already avidly listening on the ear bud, writing down what he heard.

Sol let them in the door and cocked a thumb at the table where Nathan was hunched, scribbling furiously. “Jason Bourne over here has taken control since apparently the unsub is speaking to a bunch of English fishermen somewhere here in the lodge.”

Xandra headed toward Nathan, but didn’t want to disturb his concentration. She just hovered, craning to see around his shoulder at the notepad. She whispered fiercely, “‘Unsub’? You’ve been watching too much
Criminal Minds
, Sol. He’s not an unsub, since we know his name.”

Sol snarled back, “I can forsee this turning out a lot of different ways, Xandra. And not one of them results in us deserving a break today. If this Ozzy dork slap is really here in the lodge, Efrem Zimbalist Junior can’t just walk up and slap cuffs on him in front of two hundred fishermen.”

Julian wrinkled his nose. “Efrem Zimbalist Junior? How old are you, anyway?”

“Yeah,” Cass agreed. “I preferred Jason Bourne.”

“Okay,” Julian agreed. “Can I be Jason Bourne?”

Xandra made a cutting motion with her hand. “Why can’t he just walk up and slap cuffs on him? Isn’t there a thing called a citizen’s arrest? Or Julian here can do it. He’s a peace officer for the state of Utah with hundreds of arrests to his credit.”

Sol protested, “He cites bozos for shooting barn owls with dart guns, Xandra!”

Xandra frowned. “He also probably has more experience than Nathan in arresting drug smugglers.”

Cass nodded vigorously. “And he has exactly
one
more taser than Nathan does.”

Now Sol made a cutting motion with his hand. “Okay. Let’s not get confused about who did what and when. The gist of what I’m getting at is”—he looked around as though he were the one being eavesdropped upon—“it doesn’t exactly look good for the lodge’s image to have Bruce Willis here tear-assing around, body-slamming guests to the ground.”