Read Her Three Protectors [The Hot Millionaires #3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) for Free Online Page B

“It’s Florida, it’s the weekend, and that’s a park over there.” He grinned at Porcha. “Go pack that bag.”
    She returned a few minutes later. “Do I need the wig?”
    “No, just a ball cap and shades oughta do it.”
    “That I can manage.” She produced a cap, squished her hair beneath it, and put on glasses that covered half her face. “Just like a million other women in Florida.”
    “Not quite.” Adam’s gaze lingered on her breasts.
    “Can I have my gun back?”
    “Only if you promise to shoot Troy this time.”
     
    * * * *
     
    Beck produced the S&W, watching her as she stuffed it in her purse.
    “Okay, Beck,” Troy said. “Let’s lose our friend outside.”
    Grinning, Beck pulled a phone from his pocket and dialled 911.
    “Oh, hello,” he said. “I’m with my daughter in a downtown park.” He gave the address. “There’s this odd-looking man hanging round. I’ve seen him talk to a couple of the kids. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about, but I thought I ought to report it. You hear such terrible things nowadays.”
    Beck hung up without giving his name. “Two minutes, I reckon. Get ready.”
    “Go bring the truck to the front door,” Troy said to Beck.
    Sure enough, a squad car pulled up within Beck’s two-minute estimate, and two officers descended on the watcher.
    “Go!”
    Troy led the charge down the stairs, toting Porcha’s bag like it weighed nothing at all.
    “Don’t you guys believe in elevators?”
    “Nope. There’s no place to run in an elevator if things get awkward.”
    They burst out the front door, Adam and Troy shielding Porcha as they crossed the sidewalk and piled into a Dodge truck idling at the curb. As soon as the door closed behind them, Beck moved away in an unhurried fashion that didn’t draw attention to them.
    “Where are we going?” Porcha asked, her head resting in Adam’s lap in the back of the cab so that she wasn’t visible to anyone else who might be watching them.
    “To our love pad,” Adam told her, pulling the cap from her head and spreading her hair all over his thigh.
    “Sorry I asked.”
    “Seriously, darlin’, we’re going to St. Pete Beach. Us gentlemen have a town house there that’s more secure than Fort Knox. No one will look for you there because they don’t know you’re with us.”
    “I really do need a passport.” She addressed the words to Adam’s muscled thigh, trying to ignore the intriguing bulge in his pants.
    “Where’s yours?” Troy asked.
    “At the Jupiter house, but I don’t feel inclined to pop back for it.”
    “And if we get you one, what then?” Troy turned from the passenger seat and pinioned her with a look she found hard to interpret.
    “I’ll go back to England, of course.”
    Troy shook his head. “Baby, you think the people who have the power to get to one of the best-protected racketeers in the country won’t be able to get to you there?”
    She slumped against Adam’s legs. “I guess.”
    “You can sit up now,” Troy told her.
    “Please don’t,” Adam wailed.
    Laughing, Porcha levered herself upright. “What would you suggest that I do instead?”
    Beck raised his hand. “Can I answer that one?”
    “Beck,” Adam growled.
    “How about trying to find out who’s chasing you and why they think you know where the stones are?”
    Porcha quirked a brow. “Just like that?”
    “Why not?” Troy grinned at her. “Nothing like going on the offensive if you wanna rattle a few cages.”
    “Yes, but where to start?”
    “Presumably, you still have numbers for the two guys who protected you?”
    “Yeah, but I don’t know which one—”
    “Call them both when we get to the house. If one of them is in on it, he’ll pick up. If they both do, we’ll deal with that, too.”
    “Okay.”
    Beck turned off the interstate. A short time later, he pressed a button on the dash, and the door to a subterranean garage beneath a tall waterside town house slid up.
    “Welcome to our