Beast Brothers 2: An MFM Twin Ménage Romance Page 11

  I twist my wrists against their bindings, and to my surprise feel them give a little. They’ve wrapped me up so tightly my hands are numb. Working them around in circles as best I can, gritting my teeth as whatever they’ve tied me with digs into my skin, I keep flexing until a little bit of blood flow returns to my hands. It hurts like hell, but it’s better than having my circulation cut off.

  I rest for a minute, then go back to work. Bit by bit, a fraction at a time, my bonds loosen until I can drag one hand free. Wincing at the tingling in my hands and the raw skin on my wrists, I sit up and take off my blindfold.

  After a few seconds, I can see that the room I’m in is tiny — maybe some kind of storage closet? An old pantry? No shelves on the walls, though. It’s dark, but there’s a tiny sliver of light coming under the door.

  I go to work on my ankles, holding my breath that no one will come in. No one does. I’m not even certain anyone is here with me. Earlier, I heard movement and the faint sound of voices, but nothing recently.

  It takes a lot longer to get my feet free, despite having my hands available. I break three nails working at the nylon rope. Finally, though, it’s done, and I sit for a minute rubbing my feet and ankles. The tingling pain is tolerable, considering the alternative.

  When I have some feeling back, I lie down on my stomach and peer under the door. I can’t see much, but it looks like an old, abandoned house, as I suspected. I put my ear to the crack, but still can’t hear anything. Eventually, I get up on my knees and take hold of the knob — at least there is one — and try to turn it.

  It gives easily under my hand, but the door creaks alarmingly as I try to ease it open. I freeze, listening, but there’s still no sound. Did they really leave me alone here?

  My shoes are gone. I’m in my stocking feet. Just as well, if I’m going to have to sneak around this house. Instead of trying to open the door slowly, I get to my feet and yank it open all at once. It makes a horrible screeching noise, but then it’s over.

  40

  Open

  Zoe

  Poking my head out, I see that the windows are boarded up, but crudely, so a little light still comes through. I really want to look for a bathroom, but I don’t. It seems better to get out of the house while I can and hope there’s someplace nearby with facilities.

  I slip out into the hallway. The floor feels strange under my feet; I kneel down and brush my fingers over it. Dirt. I must be in a cellar or basement, then.

  That would explain why it’s so quiet, if everyone is in the main part of the house above me. I still haven’t heard anyone moving around, though. Maybe they’ve got me locked down here and they think I can’t leave.

  I’m reluctant to feel my way — who knows what might be living or growing down here — so I move to the center of the hallway and edge cautiously forward. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I can see rough concrete walls, covered in some kind of slimy substance. Ugh.

  The hallway emerges into a large open space that must run the length, or width, of the house. I move through it cautiously, looking for a door and getting a sense of the layout. It’s mostly empty. An ancient water heater sits in one corner, and nearby are fuse boxes, dusty and covered in cobwebs.

  I find the door; it’s solid metal and locked from the outside. Dammit. Maybe I can pry the boards off the windows, even though they’re high up and it’s doubtful I could squeeze through them.

  Starting at one end of the space, I search it, peering into all the shadows, looking for any kind of tool or implement I might be able to use. Halfway down, nearly concealed by a pile of debris, I find a crowbar. Score.

  It’s suspiciously new-looking, not rusted or mottled at all. I poke at the pile of debris, but it just seems to be trash. Hmm.

  I keep searching. Better to have a grasp on any potential surprises, and better yet on possible hiding places … just in case. The hallway I came out of is roughly halfway down the wall; I move past the doorway and scope out the other half half of the area.

  Nothing. I should just leave, but this crowbar is bugging me. Retracing my steps, I go down the hallway I came out of and follow it to its other end. It runs into another hallway, perpendicular to it, that looks like it has a room at each end. So the basement is laid out in an H shape, only one of the upright bars is three times the width of the other.

  It’s darker on this side of the house, the windows more securely boarded. My pupils must be the size of quarters right now. I turn right down the hallway.

  The room at that end is so dark it gives me the creeps. I edge up to the doorway slowly, wishing I had some kind of flashlight. Even a little penlight would help.

  Though the darkness is absolute, it doesn’t feel empty. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s a presence in the room. Despite the fact that it makes me sound like every dumb girl in every horror film ever, I clear my throat and say, “Hello?”

  A rattling chain is my only warning. I stumble back and land on my ass as a low, lean shape hurtles at me out of the darkness. Propped up on my elbows, I stare at the snapping, snarling dog straining at the end of his tether to get to me.

  “Oh my god. You poor thing.” What kind of monsters would leave an animal chained up in the dark? I want to cry and scream and brain every one of them with the crowbar.

  I do a crab walk backwards, then get to my feet and pick up the crowbar again. The dog has fallen silent and is watching me suspiciously. From the look of him, he’s probably a pittie mix of some kind. “I’m so sorry,” I tell him. “I promise I won’t forget about you.”

  Backing away with my eyes on the dog, I debate whether to explore the room on the other end of this hallway. Better not; who knows what’s down there. I need to get out of here and get help.

  As I start back down the connecting hallway — the center bar of the H — toward the big empty room on that side, there’s a ruckus above me. A voice comes over a bullhorn. “This is the police. We have the house surrounded. Come out with your hands up.”

  Muffled footsteps thud overhead. They are up there! My first thought is to get out of sight. What if the cops mistake me for a baddie? What if one of the actual baddies tries to come down here and use me as a human shield?

  I scurry back across the center bar to the thinner upright and turn toward the room on the left, the one I haven’t been to yet. Pausing in its doorway, I listen for any telltale sounds, but it’s impossible to be sure because whoever’s in the house above me is going nuts, running all over the place.

  Shots ring out and I duck instinctively. “Crap!” My crouch has me turned at an angle, and I see what I didn’t before: an enormous flashlight lying just inside the entrance of the room. Edging over, I try to pull it out with just my fingertips, in case it’s boobytrapped or something.

  It comes free, and I pick it up and cross my fingers the batteries work. They do, and I shine the beam into the room.

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, and in the big, empty space on the other side of the basement, someone kicks the door open.

  41

  Our Girl

  Alex

  “Zoe?” I yell. Lucas is right behind me. We want to find her before the cops do. If she’s been hurt, it’ll be up to us what to do about it. “It’s Alex.” I sweep the room, flashlight in one hand, gun in the other.

  There’s a scuffling sound in the distance; we both listen, guns at the ready. Then Zoe’s voice calls, “Alex?”

  Relief rushes through me. “Yeah, babe.” We head toward her, moving fast. “Stay right there, we’re coming.”

  “Don’t hurt the dog,” she says, and we freeze halfway down a connecting hallway.

  “Dog?” I repeat.

  “Just in case he snaps the chain. It’s not his fault.”

  “Are you with the dog?” I ask, following the sound of her voice. We reach the end of the hallway and turn, and my light hits her in the face. She squints, throwing a hand up. “Sorry.”

  “No, he’s down at that end,” she s
ays, pointing, and I see how raw her wrists are. We reach her an instant later, kneeling down and cradling her between us.

  “We need to get you to a hospital, hon,” I tell her.

  “Okay, but you have to tell the police. Don’t let them shoot the dog. Make sure they take him to a shelter or a rescue organization.”

  It doesn’t surprise me that she’s more worried about the dog than herself. Lucas and I exchange a glance. “I’ll stay here,” he says. “Take care of the dog. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “Thank you.” She throws her arms around him and kisses him, then does the same to me. “I’m so glad to see you both.” Then, “Hey!”

  She says this because Lucas has pulled the fabric of her dress aside to expose her bra. “New lingerie?” he asks. It looks new to me; it’s green and lacy and I can’t wait to take it off her.

  “Yes. It was supposed to be a surprise for tonight. Why on earth do you care about my lingerie right now?”

  “Because we couldn’t track you.”

  “Track me —” she blinks. “You have tracking devices in my bras?”

  “Yes, and if you’d been wearing one of them we would have found you immediately.”

  “Well, how was I to know?” She shakes her head and repeats, “In my bras?”

  “No harm done,” Lucas says gruffly, his eyes lingering on her wrists and ankles. They would have tied her up regardless, but we could have minimized the damage if we’d found her sooner. Someone’s going to pay for that.

  “What are you doing over here?” I ask her. “Where did they have you?”

  “There’s a little room off that hallway. As for why I’m over here, check it out.” She gestures toward the room beyond her, and I aim my flashlight beam into it. “I’m guessing there’s more in the other room, with the dog.”

  “Probably so.” I take in the bricks and bags of white powder, the bricks neatly stacked, the bags in a haphazard pile. “This’ll make the police happy.”

  She turns back to Lucas. “So you’ll be sure —”

  “I’ll be sure they don’t hurt the dog,” he tells her gently. “You let Alex take you to the hospital now, all right?”

  “All right.” She kisses him again, then me. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  My brother and I share a look as I lead Zoe out. Things could have gone a lot worse than they did, but I know this episode has kicked our emotions into high gear. We and our girl are going to be having a talk very soon.

  42

  Accelerated

  Zoe

  Much later that night, after I’ve been bandaged at the hospital and given my statement to the police, and after Lucas has assured me that the dog was picked up by a rescue organization, and after a very strained conversation with my father, the twins and I are back at my place.

  “So that gang thought they could use me to force my father into transporting drugs for them?”

  “Yeah,” Lucas says. “Some of his employees, unbeknownst to him, had been using company trucks to do just that. When he found out, he fired the employees, but the gang didn’t have an alternate system in place. It cost them a lot of money, and they were not happy about it.”

  My mind flashes back over everything that happened, and another question comes to me. “When they forced me off the road, my doors were locked, but they beeped them open. How’d they do that?”

  “There are devices that will clone the signal from a key fob. They must have followed you to work one day. They’d been planning this; it wasn’t spur of the moment.”

  We’re all in bed, me tucked between the brothers. I’ve been taking turns snuggling close to them, first one and then the other, because it feels like I can’t get close enough. Part of me still feels the chill of that basement.

  Finally, they press me between them, until I can barely move or breathe, and that feels just right, my twin sandwich, safe and warm and sexy. Though that last part is going to have to wait; they’re being chivalrous because of my injuries, even though I’ve told them it’s not necessary.

  “It seems kind of desperate,” I say. “Weren’t there plenty of criminal types who would have been willing to do the transport?”

  “Sure,” Alex says. He’s behind me, Lucas facing me. “But none of them had a huge fleet of trucks on hand, nor the presumption of innocence that would have helped them escape detection.”

  “That makes sense,” I say quietly. “I almost feel sorry for my father.”

  Alex kisses my shoulder. “I’m not going to defend him, but I will say he was genuinely worried about you.”

  “One of his few redeeming features,” Lucas says only half jokingly. “He does care about you.”

  I sigh. “I should try to be more … pleasant to him. I was so hurt and angry when he left us, not only on my own behalf, but my mother’s. It just shattered her. And then for him to marry again so soon, and have a whole other family, like we didn’t exist.”

  I shake my head. “Anyway, the point is, the past is the past, and I’m a grownup now. I should try to mend fences. If nothing else, I’ve got three half-siblings to get to know.”

  “Speaking of families …” Lucas traces a finger along my hip. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  “It’s usually just my mother and me.”

  “She’s never remarried?” Alex asks, and I shake my head. “Does she live here in town?”

  “Yeah. Where are your parents?” I already know they don’t have siblings.

  “They’re a six-hour drive away,” Lucas says. “Maybe we can do Thanksgiving with your mom, and Christmas with them.”

  My heart stops. Yes, those words did just come out of his mouth. “You … you want to—”

  “We’re together, Zoe. We don’t want to hide it.”

  “Me either,” I say slowly. “But easier said than done. My mom would be shocked, and at least at first she’d be worried, but I think she’d do her best to be supportive. What about your folks?”

  The brothers’ eyes meet. “Uncertain,” Lucas answers, and there’s a wealth of information in that terse response. “We’d talk to them about it beforehand. If they can’t deal, we don’t go.”

  I swallow. “Okay. That’s fair.” I can’t help but remember all the times I urged Megan to go public. It feels different when you’re on the inside looking out.

  But it’s about time I got my mojo back. I’ve been too willing to let my fears get the better of me where the twins are concerned — probably because nothing, and no one, has ever mattered so much before. I vow not to hold back with them anymore.

  “So are you going to keep treating me like an invalid?” I ask.

  Lucas grins at me, and Alex says, “If you mean are we going to have sex with you tonight, the answer is no.”

  “That’s just mean.”

  They chuckle. “We want you to rest and heal,” Lucas says. “So we can get back to more … exciting pursuits as soon as possible.”

  “Stop making sense,” I order him, and he laughs outright. It makes him look completely different, young and carefree, and my heart swells in my chest. The words are there on the tip of my tongue, and I don’t try to hold them back.

  “I love you.” I roll onto my back and put an arm around each of them. “Both of you. You don’t have to say anything; I just wanted you to know.”

  Their eyes blaze, and then both of them are kissing me at once … and the Wolf brothers decide that my healing can, after all, be best accelerated by making love.

  Life is very, very good.

  Epilogue

  Lucas

  We’re sound asleep when Zoe’s phone goes off. “Hmmh?” she mumbles in my ear. She’s sprawled half on top of me, her face mashed into the side of mine. Alex is right behind her, spooning, and the dog is down at the foot of the bed.

  With a yawn, Alex rolls to his left and retrieves her phone. “It’s Megan,” he says in a voice still thick with sleep, and instead of handing it to her like he usually
would, he answers it himself. “Hello? Oh, hey, Brock.”

  That wakes us all up. “Gimme,” Zoe demands, and Alex hands her the phone with a smile. “Brock? Am I about to be an auntie? Oh gosh. Oh, good, good … right. You bet. We’ll be right there.”

  “It’s time?” I say as she clicks off.

  “Yes, and it’s happening fast. Cody’s in the back seat with her, helping her breathe.”

  “I’ll make coffee,” I say, and we all roll out of bed.

  *

  It’s been an eventful few months. Thanksgiving with Zoe’s mom was great; once she saw how we treated her daughter, she was fully on board with us, and I think her acceptance helped Zoe a lot.

  Zoe got in touch with her father; they met for coffee and had their first real conversation in years. It wasn’t entirely comfortable for either of them, and still isn’t, but they’re working on it. Her stepmother was skeptical at first, but Zoe won her over, and since then she’s been getting to know her younger siblings.

  When Alex and I called our parents to tell them we both wanted to bring the same girl home for Christmas … well, Mom was fine. She’s always been our biggest fan. Dad, he’s more of an old-school guy, which has its good points and its bad points. My concern was not how he’d treat his sons, but how he’d treat Zoe. Whether, in his mind, any woman who was willing to be with two men at once was somehow lesser.

  We weren’t certain, from the conversations we had with him, how accepting he was ready to be. So my brother and I didn’t spend Christmas with our parents. Christmas Eve, we got together with Zoe’s mom and had dinner and gifts. Christmas morning, Zoe went over to her father’s house with presents for everyone there, and then we all met at her mother’s again for dinner.

  Zoe got Alex and me a bunch of different gifts, but our favorites were the t-shirts with these kickass wolves painted on them. She called them our superhero t-shirts, and I made her blush by giving her a look that said I had a very specific kind of superlative performance in mind. “I meant you could wear them to work,” she said. “Like magical shirts to keep you safe.”