Blue Moon Brides: The Complete Series (69 page)

He opened the French doors and stepped out into Gianna’s garden. It probably had all the perquisite flowers and decorative doodads, but right now all he wanted was space and some fresh air. Or maybe he could just bang his head against the wall and put himself out of their misery. So he’d shared Gianna’s one night.
With
Luc. She’d been curious about a threesome and he’d been happy to indulge her. It was his problem that neither his head nor his heart could accept their night had been a one-time deal.

The French doors opened and closed as Landry joined the pity party in the garden.  Landry was a dark-eyed, broad-shouldered Cajun with shoulder-length hair clubbed back from his face. This particular Breaux brother had also earned one hell of a reputation with the ladies before he’d settled down with a bayou boat captain. Based on the awkward ass family dinners Riley had subjected everyone to, he was also sharing a female with Dre. So, shit, maybe the male could shed some light on what was doing with Luc and Gianna.

Landry picked a spot on the wall next to Cruz and leaned back. “You hangin’ in there, my man?”

Nope. Talking about the mess that was his dating life wasn’t going to make Cruz feel better at all. He’d rather have open-heart surgery without an anesthesiologist on call. His odds of passing out and missing the main event were higher.

“What do you think?” His voice sounded cheese-grater rough.

“
Oui
. Being on the wrong side of the door sucks the big one.”

Cruz nodded like he was a bobble-head. No disagreement from him there. “I was—”

Great. He was incoherent. How much did he share with Landry and when the hell had he become the kind of guy who shared about his feelings and doings? What had happened between him, Luc and Gianna was private. He didn’t trot it out as conversational fodder.

“Been there.” Apparently, Landry spoke cryptic just fine. “Me and Dre, it took some time to work out things with our Mary Jane. Hell, we’re still working on it. Come back in fifty years and maybe we’ll have ironed out all the bumps in the road.”

“Did you—” he cleared his throat because the frog in it was dinosaur-sized, “just know from the start that it would be the three of you?”

Landry shrugged, keeping his eyes on the garden. “We’ve always shared, so lovin’ Mary Jane together didn’t surprise us.”

He was one hundred percent certain that long-term sharing didn’t form any part of Luc’s plans. Hell, if he was honest, he didn’t want to share either. He wanted Gianna for himself.

“We shocked the hell out of Mary Jane.” The smile tugging at Landry’s mouth said the
shocking
was a good memory. “She hadn’t thought about takin’ on one of us, let alone two. Most females, they grow up thinkin’ they got to pick just one and that there’s somethin’ wrong with them if they’d like two at a time.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with Gianna.” His hands curled into fists. No one got to make Gianna feel bad about her choices. Not on his watch.

“Nope. She’ll do what’s right for her. The question is: what do you want?”

Cruz made a rough noise. No way he made a sexual wish list and shared it with Landry.

“Not that.” Amusement colored Landry’s voice and Cruz once again debated the pros and cons of popping the other man. “Do you want to be with her if it means sharing with Luc, or is that somethin’ you can’ do?”

Cruz death stared a white rose bush. He respected Luc. Hell, under other circumstances, he’d have the liked the male. His feelings weren’t sexual. Nope. They were all about Gianna and giving her what she needed. So, if she needed Luc in her life, could he give her that too? He honestly didn’t know.

“She promised me a week.” Where had that come from?

Landry whistled. “That’s goin’ to cause problems.”

“Tell me about it.” Luc was certain Gianna was his Blue Moon bride and all evidence pointed to it.

“You goin’ to hold her to it?”

“I sure want to. I want my chance.”

“Uh-huh.” Landry was silent for a moment. “Luc won’ like it, but I’d tell him the same thing I told you. If Gianna wants you both, can he be sharin’?”

Gianna’s cat rubbed around his ankles, like that male was also on his side. Or maybe it just admired Cruz’s prowess at popping the tops on the cat food cans. He’d take the company where he could find it, so he scooped the cat up in his arms and let the animal head-butt him.

“You think they’re done yet?”

Landry sighed. “A man can hope, right?”

~*~

Holy. Wow.

Her man knew how to love her. The number Luc had done on Gianna in her bathroom had been out-of-this-world good. Her panties might be trashed, but her whole body still had that boneless feel. She had the pink cheeks too, because she hadn’t been all that quiet at the end.

He pulled out and brushed a kiss over top of her head. Yeah. Time to go back out and face the rest of his Pack. And Cruz. Because…she’d dragged Luc in here and they’d gone at it while Cruz had been out there.

“We should—” Stop having wild monkey sex in my bathroom? See what the others were up to? Yeah. She had no idea how to finish that sentence.

He lifted her off the sink and set her on her feet. Her yoga pants were down around her thighs, her T-shirt pushed up and her bra unhooked. Yep. She qualified as a hot mess. Too bad rearranging her clothes wouldn’t fix the screwed up mess of feelings inside her.

“
Oui
.” He didn’t say anything more.

Awkwardly, she tugged her pants up. The move earned her zero points in the dignified department, but she could still feel that sexy pulse deep inside her. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that she was blushing. She looked anyhow. Tomato soup had nothing on her in the color department.

“Turn around,” Luc said gruffly. When she did, he hooked her bra for her, his fingers brushing against her skin. She wanted him to say something more, but she had no idea what.

“They’re all going to know,” she said finally. She didn’t even bother making it a question.

“Uh-huh. That bother you?”

Yeah, like she could stroll on out there and pretend that nothing had been happening in her powder room. Just a little hand washing action or maybe she’d needed Luc to check a light bulb. Nope. If the pink in her cheeks and her crazy hair weren’t evidence enough, Luc’s scent was all over her. Plus, she’d just moaned and screamed her way through a very satisfying orgasm. Even if they’d shut the door, the walls weren’t soundproof.

Everyone knew.

Including Cruz.

She had no idea what to do about Cruz. She’d had hot, crazy, spontaneous sex with Luc—the man she’d spent years thinking she might have been
married
to—but now she was thinking about Cruz? Sure, he’d joined her and Luc in bed, but that been a one-shot deal. It was a checkbox marked on her sexual fantasy list and Luc had in no way indicated that he was jonesing for a repeat.

That was her problem. She wanted to yank Cruz off somewhere private and give him equal time, but that wasn’t part of Luc’s plans. She couldn’t kid herself. Luc was an Alpha wolf and possessive. Asking him to share nicely with Cruz wasn’t an option. Cruz was an Alpha and he didn’t seem like he’d be any more into long-term sharing than Luc was.

So that left her…staring at the wallpaper in her bathroom.

She pushed open the door. Luc hadn’t even bothered locking it. To her intense relief, her living room held just the one wolf: Dre. Good times. Dre wasn’t much for speaking, although she’d seen firsthand what a vicious fighter he was. She tried—and once again failed—to imagine him sharing a bed with Landry and Mary Jane. He probably wouldn’t judge her for thinking about Cruz, unless Pack loyalty trumped sexual attraction?

God. Just thinking about it made her head hurt. There were no magic solutions to her mess.

“I’m going upstairs to grab some things.”

She scanned the room one more time, but turned up no sign of Landry or Cruz. That was a probably a good thing but…hell…the last thing she’d wanted to do was run off Cruz. Yeah. She still had that fantasy about him sticking around and finding a way to work this thing out with Luc. Right. As if they could timeshare her like a condo on the beach. She didn’t want to split her time between them—she wanted to spend it all with
both
of them.

“Cruz and Landry are outside,” Dre volunteered, clearly taking note of her interest. So much for being casual.

Luc stepped out of the bathroom, tucking in his shirt.
Not so subtle.

“I’ll stay with Gianna,” was all he said.

Tired of trying to sort things out, she hightailed it up the stairs for her bedroom. Luc followed, looking impossibly out of place in all the pink and gold she’d decorated the room with. He took up a position by the floor-to-ceiling windows looking over the garden. His Glock peeked over the waistband of his jeans, because he’d come armed with an arsenal. A fighter to the core, he radiated power and dominance.

When she knocked a book off the bedside table, she jumped, nerves getting the better of her. Being alone with him in a bedroom wasn’t helping either, although he seemed more interested in her perimeter defenses than her body. No ego boost there.

“You got somethin’ to say, say it.” Satisfied with whatever he saw outside her window, he leaned against the frame, arms folded over his chest, while he waited for her response.

She had plenty of thoughts tumbling around in her head, but putting them into some sort of coherent sequence?
So
not happening right now. Still, one thought stuck out.

“You don’t think we should have waited?”

He shrugged, like they were discussing the weather. “We’re not shy in this Pack,
shug
.”

“You also share.” She yanked open her dresser drawer and stared at the contents, seeing nothing.

“You think I should have invited everybody else in? You’d have had yourself a logistics issue.” A half-smile tugged at his lips.

“Cruz was right there.”

“So?” Luc sounded like he didn’t give a fuck, but his shoulders stiffened. Good. He wasn’t so happy with this new conversational direction. Too bad, so sad. She grabbed a roller bag from the back of her closet, dragged it out and tossed it on the bed. Time to fill her up and get moving.

“So yesterday it was the three of us and now, today, we’re slamming the door in his face.”

“You want another taste of him?”

She couldn’t tell what Luc thought about that possibility and wasn’t that par for the course? The man was a fucking emotional island. She fisted a handful of lingerie from the open drawer and tossed it into the case.

“I don’t want to slam the door in his face.”

“You’re my mate—not his.”

Fuck wolves. She was tired of this. “News flash: I belong to myself. A ring on my finger doesn’t change that. It just means that
I’ve
agreed to share.”

Yoga pants. T-shirts. Two pairs of sneakers. She didn’t need power suits of heels for a week in the bayou, but she didn’t plan on staying naked either.

“You promised me this week.” Luc moved closer

“And I promised Cruz the next one. Fine. I’ll slam the door in your face next week and see how you like it then.”

“I don’ know if I can share you.” She didn’t miss the warning in his low voice. Yeah. He’d never lied to her. She shoved more clothes into her suitcase, feeling like a refugee, grabbing what she could. Her house felt strange now, and unfamiliar.

“He’s out there,” Luc said roughly.

“Excuse me?”

“Your other wolf. Cruz. He’s waitin’ on you,
shug
. Just like me.”

She could hear the silent demand in Luc’s voice. He wanted her to choose him and he wanted her to do it soon. She wasn’t trying to jerk either man around, but choosing between them had never seemed so hard. She stared at the wadded-up clothes in her suitcase, but the pile of fabric didn’t come with bonus answers. Somehow, even though she had no clue how, she needed to work out her feelings for Luc. And for Cruz.

God, she had no idea how she was going to that.

The only plan in the hopper at the moment was drawing out The Breed. At least it was something. Maybe infiltrating a biker gang of werewolves would make everything clearer and simpler.

Chapter Eight

After much negotiating, Luc pulled up in his truck behind Gianna’s office. He didn’t like it. The place was all brick and glass, the kind of space deliberately designed to encourage confidence. The traffic in and out of the front door alternated between suits and a wide cross-section of other people who all had one thing in common. They stank of nerves and fears.

She reached for the door handle and then paused, tapping her briefcase against her leg. The plan was for her to slip in the back, make like she’d come to collect a few briefs to work on from home, and then exit via the front door to where she’d made arrangements to have a friend drop off her car. The Breed would be on her solitary departure like white on rice.

“They won’t kill me.”

“You can’ make that promise.”

She stared at him impatiently. “If they wanted me dead, all it would take was one sniper rifle. Based on what they’re running, they have access to that kind of fire power. If they haven’t used it, they want to do some talking.”

Yeah. They both heard the unspoken
first
.

Dre and Landry were tailing her from the south. Cruz had the north. There was no way she’d disappear off their radar. But, shit. This was
not
a plan he liked. Ten minutes later, she popped out the front door, right on schedule, as she usually did on a work night. Her heels beat out a brisk tap-tap-tap as she ate up the sidewalk, keys out.  The shoes lost out to her nylons and the wicked little seam that ran up the back of her calf and thigh.

Cruz crouched beside him, his gaze following Gianna’s. It was impossible to tell what the bastard was thinking.

He heard the boop-bip-boop of Gianna’s car lock. “You don’ think this is crazy?”

“The Breed is crazy.” Cruz kept his eyes trained on Gianna. He’d passed on the uniform, opting instead for khaki cargo pants, shitkickers and a T-shirt. When he shifted, the shirt rode up, revealing the handle of a gun tucked in his waistband. “They won’ stop comin’ for her. They’ve got to get what they wan’, or this will never be over.”

The snatch was quick and surprisingly professional. Two bikers moved in, killing their motors to pin her between her car and their metal. The growl rose in his throat before he could entirely suppress it. Beside him, Cruz stiffened.  The biker closest to her leaned in, landing a quick, hard cuff to the head, and she crumpled. Anger roared to life in him, his wolf fighting for release even as he mentally marked both of the males. They’d hurt her. They’d die.

It was that simple.

The biker pulled Gianna onto the bike in front of him and jammed a helmet down over her head. Face covered, she looked like a biker’s old lady. Her skirt rode up, flashing white thigh. Yeah. That was
definitely
his growl he heard.

Dre and Landry signaled from their hiding spots as the bikers roared off.

Time to hunt.

~*~

Luc followed Cruz to the dive bar in one of Baton Rouge’s seediest neighborhoods. Arriving before the two bikers pulled in with their precious cargo was key. They’d also agreed to split up and enter separately in order to draw less attention. The seedy hole-in-the-wall stank of urine and worse. The bathrooms were bacteria breeding-grounds covered with gang graffiti. In addition to three ancient pool tables, the bar came with the obligatory neon signs and a scarred counter where drinkers bellied up for refills and cold longnecks.  A human female in a red thong desultorily slid up and down a pole on a small platform in the corner. The blank look in her eyes said she was a million miles away and tweaking.

No sign of the two wolves who had snatched Gianna—or of The Breed leadership. They’d show. Luc knew it. It was just going to be a fucking long wait. But responding sooner would have netted him the two kidnappers only—small potatoes in The Breed hierarchy.

The bar was the current favorite of The Breed. Color him shocked. The biker gang got up to pretty much the same shit as their human counterparts, except that these riders turned furry on will. Luc also suspected they made deals on the side with the vampires and trafficked in werewolf skins. Sworn enemies for centuries, the vampires had followed the werewolves to the New World when Luc’s Pack had joined the mass paranormal exodus from Europe. Vampires and werewolves had hunted and killed each other ever since. The only advantage the shifters had was the vampires’ intolerance for bright light of any kind. Hit them with a floodlight or stake them outdoors for the sun—the end result was the same. The vamp fried. In a misguided spirit of fair play, nature had handed the vampires a bitch of a work-around. The vamps skinned the werewolves and wore their skins. Problem solved.

The bar was still mostly empty, which meant Cruz didn’t have to fight for a table. He parked his ass at a corner table. An army of empty Budweisers marched across the sticky tabletop. The surface appeared to have been bussed some time in the last centuries, but the empties were useful window dressing.

When Luc strode in, the other Alpha’s aura of dark menace blended fine. It was still early hours for the bar. There were only a couple of other drinkers, plus a human bounty hunter passed out on the floor. Or knocked out. Since the man’s chest rose and fell with predictable regularity and the bar was outside of Cruz’s jurisdiction, no blood, no foul. Besides, Gianna came first.

Every time.

Luc dropped into the empty chair next to Cruz, eyes scanning the room. “Nice spot.”

One night down. Six left before it was his turn. 144 hours and far too many minutes. Holding out, not going to her when everything in him demanded
now now now
was a bitch.

Fuck him, but he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Gianna’s scent mingled with Luc’s, marking the other male’s skin. An almost invisible tension had relaxed about the guy, like he’d spent an unforgettable night loving an even more unforgettable woman. So yeah…small talk wasn’t high on Cruz’s priority list. Not when he’d rather be punching the ever-living fuck out of Luc.

Cruz rapidly sketched out what he knew about the biker gang while they waited for show time. “You laying claim to Baton Rouge?”

“Not my territory.” He preferred the freedom of the back country. He’d bet he and Luc were similar in that. “You?”

Luc shook his head. “Nothing but problems I don’ need. Someone else can keep it once we clean it up.”

The dancer shimmied and shook while Cruz mulled things over. Reports had reached him years ago of skin hunters buying up real estate because those boys liked their fancy. The biker gang was a newer development that had surfaced two years ago. Their underground community throve on lawlessness and there was always some lone wolf somewhere who got tired of his Pack and decided to branch out on his own or find some new friends.

The Breed ran arms and drugs with—he eyed the dancer—a side of prostitution. As long as they’d stayed out of the bayou, Cruz had overlooked their claims to the city. With his brothers behind him, he had the muscle to hold his territory, but making full-scale war on The Breed carried the kind of price tag he couldn’t afford. Publicity—and a body count. He wasn’t sacrificing his brothers on that altar and he figured Luc Breaux felt the same way.

Unfortunately, it looked like the war was coming to them anyway. The minute those crazy bastards had laid their hands on Gianna, his neutrality was shot.

Luc looked at Cruz. “You know what their numbers are?”

“Pack of forty, with another fifty or sixty hangers-on and a dozen prospects.”

“And you know this how?”

“Inside wolf.”  The walls had ears in places like this and admitting the truth out loud was a calculated risk. Luc didn’t push further, clearly satisfied.

“And there’s one of our boys. Bear Dog. ” The wolf swaggering inside wore faded blue jeans and an oversized belt buckle.
Bingo.
His denim vest was patched with the gang’s colors and tattooed snakes curled around his biceps. Based on his human bulk, he’d be a son-of-a-bitch as a wolf.

Two males accompanied Bear Dog, one human and one wolf based on the scents. And the wolf’s old lady. She was a little blonde bit with dead eyes and a nervous twitch. She sported a black leather collar and a white mini-dress with twinkly rhinestone straps that had to be downright pornographic if she rode behind her wolf. The finger-sized bruises mottling her arms were not the accessories Luc would have chosen.

“He’s the second lieutenant. Word on the street is that he requested the hit on Gianna.”

~*~

Gianna cracked her eyes open and realized that was a mistake. Her head hurt and the largest man she’d ever seen cradled her in his arms, pressed against a downright pornographic T-shirt advertising some kind of adult sex toy. A tribal tattoo of a Celtic hunting hound curled around his throat. The walls swam around her and the blur did nothing for them.

The place stank.

She’d never worked undercover. Volunteering might, just possibly, have been outside her comfort zone.
Focus on the fact that this will soon be over.
Large bodies surrounded her, jostled her as they leered and rough voices detailed what was waiting for her. Yeah, wearing a wire was helpful—but her life only restarted when as she made her way
out
of the bar.

Mr. Big, Bad and Tattooed looked down at her. “Almost over, sweetheart.”

For a brief moment, he actually seemed concerned. Maybe he was Cruz’s undercover man. Or maybe he simply wasn’t rotten to the core like the other members of The Breed. Most bikers were decent men. The same had to hold true for the wolves. At any rate, he changed course, locking in on the bar.

“You wan’ a shot of Patrón? While we wait for Z-Pain, because he’s the one in charge of this show and the rest of us are playin’ follow-the-leader.”

“Put me down.” Being carted around like a bag of groceries only underscored her physical disadvantage. Her eyes darted around the bar, cataloging possible exit points. Looking for Luc and Cruz. The place specialized in shadows and out-of-the-line-of-sight booths, so she had no luck on that front. She could sense that they were there.

“No can do,” her bearer said. He copped a spot on a barstool and dropped her onto his lap. “Pick your poison.”

When the other wolves jostling around them jeered, he shrugged “I’m a gentleman. Lady gets a last drink.”

“You got a name?”
Please say it and go on my tape.
Not that he’d done anything actionably illegal—other than holding her here against her will—but insurance sounded wise. He also scared the piss out of her. He sucked a draft of beer from his longneck, his scarred thumb rubbing back and forth over her pulse. When two wolves tackled the dancer on the pole, bearing her down to the floor, he had to know how much it bothered her. Her heart kicked into overdrive, her pulse banging wildly. Sweet. Jesus. They were…

“She’s a pass-around,” he rasped in her ear. Guess he could talk after all.

“She signed up for that?”

With a flash of white thighs, the dancer disappeared beneath the two males. A belt buckled clinked, followed by the slap of flesh on flesh as the guy rammed hips and balls forward. Two pale arms appeared from the pile up, linking loosely around the man’s back.

Her human barstool sighed. “She wants the drugs. Someone here will give them to her.”

~*~

The night’s plan was simple. Determine which motherfucker was in charge, because The Breed’s organizational structure was slippery as hell. Get Gianna to safety—and then take down the males who had ordered her hit.

The new wolf headed to the bar and ordered a bottle of tequila. Patron. The bartender ponied it right up, along with a row of shot glasses and lime. No money exchanged hands. He laid in a line for Gianna’s wolf, who greeted the big bastard like a long-lost friend.
Z-Pain.
Target acquired.

Taking the wolf pack apart one wolf at a time remained a possibility, but public show-and-tell was more efficient. Z-Pain had gone after Luc’s mate—whether he realized it or not—so they’d make the first example of him. Z-Pain bent closer to Gianna, his nose brushing her throat. As he straightened up, cursing, Luc was already moving. No way the other wolf hadn’t scented both Luc and Cruz on Gianna’s skin.

Z-Pain’s enforcers stepped out to block Luc’s forward momentum, but Luc hipchecked the wolf on the left, slamming him into the bar. Cruz was all over the second guy by the time the fight broke out.

The wolf who’d parked Gianna on his lap disappeared toward the back of the bar, Rafer gunning for him. The male hadn’t bitched about playing knight errant. None of the Breauxs wanted Luc losing his Blue Moon mate. Gianna’s current captor was Cruz’s inside guy; he’d beat a strategic retreat, take a few well-placed hits, and hand Gianna off.

Luc had kept her safe for ten years from himself. No fucking way he lost her to a bastard wolf pack now. Losing her to Cruz would hurt like hell, but that would be her choice. The gang members didn’t stand a chance. His wolf was a runaway truck with no brakes and his human half was onboard with that plan.