In MIB Custody [The Service Club 6] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (16 page)

No. It had been the single most wonderful night of her life. It had been a reunion with the only man she had ever truly loved until she had met Zane, then a joining with him, too. It had been the one thing she had needed to realize how it felt to be complete, to be satisfied, and thoroughly right.

But none of it would stay that way if they made sacrifices they didn’t truly want to make. It would all change when resentment set in, when other needs went unfulfilled, and when they started to feel trapped in a world they didn’t belong.

“It was hot sex and passion, Lowell. It was saying good-bye to the past.” She slid her gaze to Zane. “It was enjoying time with a friend.” The cloud that darkened Zane’s eyes at that nearly broke her resolve. “Let’s not ruin it with a truckload of animosity and anger the afternoon after, okay, gentlemen.”

“That’s not what it was for us, and you know it.” Zane’s voice was so soft, so full of pain it sliced through her chest like a knife. “I’m your friend, Dannie. That much is true. I’m also one of the men who loves you.” He angled his head, staring at her for a long moment before he shook it and sighed. “But you didn’t say it last night, did you? We both told you how we feel, and you didn’t say a word.”

Danica didn’t say anything now, either. She loved both of them so deeply she knew she would likely never recover from this. But if she said that, if she gave them even the tiniest hint of how she really felt, they would give up everything, never leave, and end up hating her for it in the end.

“Thanks for last night. It really was magnificent.” She shot a glance behind her at the doorway to the hall. “I’m going to grab a shower. Have a safe trip back to Tampa.”

She spun on her heel and walked down the hall, fully expecting one or both of them to tackle her at any minute. When neither of them had by the time she reached her private bath, she sighed with relief as she closed and locked the door even as she collapsed against it and burst into quiet sobs.

A heavy silence filled the house Zane and Lowell shared. Zane momentarily broke it with a clatter of keys against a wooden surface as he tossed his set on the coffee table on his way through the living room. The sight of that coffee table nearly gave him pause, but he didn’t let it. He had spent enough time since they had gotten back to Tampa staring at it, visualizing, and remembering. He kept on walking, moving past it briskly as he headed for the kitchen.

The sight he found there did give him pause. Lowell sat at the island bar, his perch on the stool precarious, and a glass of wine in his hand. Zane glanced at his wristwatch even though he knew it couldn’t be later than ten in the morning. He pursed his lips as he got the correct time. Okay, he was a bit off. It was twelve minutes after ten.

His gaze locked on his friend, he moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and gestured with the bottle at Lowell as he brought it to his lips. “You’re drinking wine?”

Lowell picked up the glass already in his hand and stared into it. “I ran out of beer. It was the only thing left.”

Zane took a long gulp of his water as he formulated his next words. They had been back in town less than forty-eight hours, and if his calculations were correct, Lowell was working on a good twenty-four-hour drunk by now.

“I guess that explains why you didn’t show at the office this morning.” Lowell hadn’t been home when Zane had left. The man had disappeared sometime yesterday morning to parts unknown and ignored all attempts at contact.

“I figured I deserved a vacation day.” Lowell shifted on the barstool, one foot hitting the floor when he nearly toppled off the damn thing, then lifted the glass of wine for a huge swig.

“Kramer was moved out of ICU last night.” Alex Kramer was the agent in Miami who had been in critical condition since the bureau had taken Diego Lorena into custody.

“That’s good to hear.”

Lowell wasn’t slurring. Then again, the man rarely did no matter how drunk he got. And he was definitely drunk. His speech didn’t have to be off for Zane to recognize the signs. The man’s balance left a lot to be desired. He was wearing the same navy-blue-and-black plaid Western shirt Zane had seen him in yesterday morning, likely with the same pair of jeans and boots. His Stetson now lay on the bar in easy reach, but his hair showed the signs of it being on his head far too long.

Zane moved to the cabinet, pulled out the coffee can, and set to brewing a pot. “Marcum wants to see both of us in his office pronto.” Jonathon Marcum was their team leader and a man who didn’t like being kept out of the loop or kept waiting.

“What for?”

Zane pressed the button to start the coffeepot, then turned to lean against the counter. “Something to do with the Lorena case and probably another assignment.”

Lowell huffed an angry-sounding breath. “Guess that means my vacation day is over.”

“Not until you get a cup or twelve of coffee in you.” Zane scratched his chin, watching in slight bemusement as Lowell downed the wine that remained in his glass. The man winced and shook his head like a wet dog as if that would help to rid his mouth of the taste faster. “Wine is meant to be sipped, not chugged.”

“I’ll drink it however I damn well please.”

Zane saw him going for the bottle left open on the counter within his reach and got to it first. “You’re more than welcome to anytime you don’t have to be at work. Unless you’ve decided to quit anyway and take up drinking as your full-time profession.”

“Wouldn’t work. Couldn’t buy beer if I didn’t have any money.”

Zane bit back a grin. “Well, at least you’ve still got some firing brain cells.”

“Might not do me any good to quit either.” Lowell braced himself on the bar as he slid off the stool and staggered around the island on an obvious direct course for the wine bottle Zane had set on the counter.

Being stone-cold sober, Zane once again proved to have the faster reflexes and took possession of the bottle before Lowell reached it. Deciding to solve the problem, he upended the bottle in the sink and said good-bye to three quarters of a seventy-five dollar bottle of his favorite wine.

Lowell balled up his fist and reared back to punch Zane’s shoulder. His distance perception was something else that was off, though, and his knuckles barely grazed Zane’s shirt. “What the hell did you do that for?”

“To keep you from drinking it. You’re getting coffee. You’re going to sober up. Then, you’re going to get the rest of those brain cells firing so you can get back on your game.”

“Who appointed you my fucking daddy?”

Zane pulled two coffee mugs from the cabinet and pour them each a cup. “You apparently did when you decided to start acting like a love-scorned sixteen-year-old.”

“I don’t suppose it occurred to you I’m just takin’ some time to plan my next move.” Lowell scowled as he took the cup Zane handed him.

So, Lowell hadn’t given up after all. Good. Zane had been afraid the man had. “Does that mean it finally occurred to you that all that stuff Dannie said was bullshit?” He could tell by the blank expression on Lowell’s face that it hadn’t, and he couldn’t help but grin. “Man, I never thought I would see the day when a woman could turn you into a sap.”

“Fuck you.”

Still grinning, Zane sipped his coffee. “No, thanks. I’m saving all my cum for Dannie.”

“All right, smart-ass. You want to know what I’ve got planned? The same thing I did from the beginnin’. I’ve already talked to Parker Ferrell. He’s got openings on the department and he’s more than willin’ to let us fill ’em.”

“So, your plan is to quit the FBI, sign on with the Horn Hill Sheriff’s Department, and do what?”

“Tie Danica down, put a ball gag in her sassy mouth, and spank her sexy ass ’til she learns who’s boss.”

Zane tried to disguise a chuckle by taking a sip of his coffee. He nearly inhaled the shit instead. “I suppose that might work, but what if there was another way? What if we could give her what she wants and take what we want in return?”

“Yeah, tried that. Didn’t work.”

Zane rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about sex. I’m talking about our future, our lives together, and each of us having what makes us whole.” Or as close as they could get, in any case. He wasn’t certain every piece of his life would fall into place if Lowell agreed to his idea, though he did know it would make him happier than their original plan.

Zane would leave the FBI to be with Dannie if he had to, but that didn’t mean he wanted to. What if they could keep the careers they both thrived on and keep their girl?

“And how exactly do we do that?”

“Drink your coffee, my friend, and I’ll tell you.”

* * * *

Danica threw herself back into her office chair, gathered the sides of her hair in her fisted hands, and pulled. It didn’t help. The pressure on her scalp and the twinges of pain that shot through her head only reminded her of the way Zane and Lowell had pulled her hair when they had held her head still as they fucked her mouth.

It had taken her all of a half a second after she had walked out of her bathroom two days ago and found them gone to realize getting back to life as normal, even the life in which she had longed for them every minute and dreamed of them every night, wasn’t going to happen. That hadn’t stopped her from trying these last two days.

“And miserably failing,” she muttered.

She released her hair, sat up straight, and placed her fingers on the home row of her keyboard. The cursor following the last word she had written before she had closed her laptop to get ready for the meeting with The Service Club blinked insistently at her, but didn’t move forward.

She should have everything she needed to create tantalizing scenes for her characters to play that would be so hot they would burn up her computer hard drive. After all she had experienced at the club meeting, everything Zane and Lowell had done to her that night, and all the wickedly intense pleasures she had felt, her fingers should be flying over the keys. Instead, she felt paralyzed, numb, unable to think, and incapable of writing a single sentence.

“Damn you, Lowell Tucker.” She pushed away from the desk and got to her feet, her movements jerky as she stomped out of her office. “And damn you, Zane Kalkin, too.”

She folded her arms beneath her breasts, careful of her nipples still so sensitive even after nearly forty-eight hours of going untouched, and hugged herself for comfort as she headed down the hallway. It didn’t help. She knew nothing would. The only thing that would take away her loneliness, that would make her feel right again, was Lowell and Zane.

“Get the fuck over it, Danica.” She stopped at the end of the hallway, threw her head back, and squeezed her eyes shut as she took a deep, frustrated breath. “You’re stronger than this. You surrendered to them for a night, had the best sex of your life, and now it’s over. Get it out of your system and move on.”

She lifted her head, opened her eyes, and her gaze landed on the coffee table. Fuck! Why couldn’t they have taken her to a motel or something? Why did they have to invade her house? She couldn’t go anywhere in the front of her own house without being reminded of them. Her office and her bedroom were the only safe zones left to her, and even they didn’t keep the memories from swamping her.

Thoroughly pissed, she dropped her arms, and stomped to the kitchen. It was like walking back in time. She saw herself on the kitchen table with Lowell between her legs and Zane behind her, his pants down and his cock in his hand as he guided it to her mouth. Maybe there was some kind of spell she could find that would exorcise their ghost from her house.

She marched to the coffeepot and poured her umpteenth cup for the day as she thought about the house. She had always loved it until now. It was simple, a two-bedroom, two-bath painted and furnished in earth tones that suited her and met her every need.

Every need except the ones Lowell and Zane created.

“Get over it or fix it,” she ordered herself through gritted teeth as she spun from the counter, coffee cup in hand, and marched back through the living room. She didn’t know what made her stop in the doorway to the hall or why she felt compelled to turn around. What she saw when she did only twisted the sword in her chest, further injuring the wound.

The images of Lowell and Zane standing in the middle of her living room, watching as she backed away from them, flooded her memory. As clearly as if she were in that moment again, she saw the anger on Lowell’s face and the hurt in Zane’s eyes. It was almost as if she was causing every bit of it a second horrible time.

So, what was last night, Danica?

Lowell’s question reverberated through her mind, the coldness that had been in his tone chilling her to the bone even now.

But you didn’t say it last night, did you? We both told you how we feel, and you didn’t say a word.

Gods, the hurt she had heard in Zane’s voice when he said that drove the sword even deeper into her chest.

“You did what you had to do,” she whispered aloud as her eyes filled with tears.

She hadn’t expected it to work, hadn’t known if she would really be able to hide everything she had been feeling in those moments and have them not see it. Lowell’s ability to read her had apparently short-circuited that afternoon. As for Zane, who knew why it had worked on him. She only knew it had.