Her Three Protectors [The Hot Millionaires #3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (11 page)

Adam’s grin was full of admiration. “She has a point there.”

“And she can look after herself,” Beck added.

Adam nodded. “True, and I’d feel better if she was with us, where we can keep an eye on her.”

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves here,” Troy said, holding up his hands. “We don’t know who broke into the house, if they’re still there, and for that matter, if we’d be walking into a bullet fest.”

“You’re right,” Adam agreed. “Hell if I’ll risk letting Porcha into the middle of that.”

“If the bad guys, and I use the term advisedly, are gone,” Troy said to Porcha, “who would be at the house now?”

“The guards, and they live in a bungalow in the grounds.”

“Assuming they’re still alive,” Beck said.

“If they’d been killed that
would
have hit the media.”

“Yeah, but they could have been chased off,” Troy reasoned. “They failed in their duty, and assuming they don’t know their boss is dead…If he is, then they’d probably prefer to disappear rather than face his wrath. I get the impression that he doesn’t take kindly to failure in the ranks.”

“He
is
dead,” Porcha said, hugging herself. “I’d know if he wasn’t. Don’t ask me how,” she added when all three men looked at her. “He just had this way of getting into my head, no matter where he was. I realize now that that feeling left me on the day we ran into all that trouble at the house.”

Troy wasn’t convinced but let it pass.

“Do the guards have access to the house?” he asked instead.

“No.”

“Forget finding out what’s missing,” Troy said. “We just need to know if the house is secure.”

“Well,” Porcha said, idly running her index finger along her lower lip as she pondered the problem. “If it’s all shut up tight, the alarm will be set. I could call the company, say I got a missed call about the alarm going off and see what they say.”

Troy reached for the nearest phone. “Do it.”

“I’ll need to switch my phone on. The security company’s number’s programmed into it.”

“Okay, but turn it right off again.”

Porcha fired up her phone, waited to get a signal, and found the number she needed. She punched the digits into the phone Troy handed to her and switched her cell off again. She got through, gave her password, said her spiel, and listened.

“Okay, the message must have been older than I realized. Thanks for putting my mind at rest. I’ve been abroad for a while and out of cell-phone range. No, no, everything’s fine. Thanks for your help.”

“Well?” Troy asked when Porcha hung up.

“The alarm went off two weeks ago, almost to the day.” She glanced at the piece of paper, upon which she’d jotted down notes. “The dates coincide with my returning to the house and seeing all hell breaking loose.”

“But the police didn’t attend?”

“No, the instructions Sal gave the alarm company were to report to him or Woollard if it went off but not to call the police. They say they phoned both numbers. Sal wouldn’t want to give the police an excuse to enter his property. Besides, he never seriously thought anyone would have the balls to break in, and if they did, he’d get his own people to deal with it.”

“But the alarm’s set again now?”

“Yes, which means there’s no one in the property. Or, there could be but no one’s home right now.”

“So, why would someone break in and then set the alarm again?” Troy asked.

“Because it was an inside job,” Adam and Beck said together.

“I could call the security guards in their bungalow and ask them what’s happening?” Porcha suggested.

“Probably not a good…No, actually, give me the number of the hut,” Troy said.

Once again, Porcha turned her phone on, jotted down the number, and scribbled it down for Troy. He got up, went back into the study, and called the number from the secure line. No one would be able to trace the call back to them. The phone was answered on the second ring.

“Who’s Philby?” Troy asked, heading back to the living room.

“Head of Sal’s security detail.”

“Well,” Troy said, sitting down, stretching his legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. “If someone’s killed his boss, he knows nothing about it. He’s manning the phone like nothing in the world is wrong.”

“What the hell’s going on, Troy?” Adam asked.

Troy leaned an elbow on the arm of his chair and dropped his chin into his cupped hand. “I don’t have a definite answer. What I
think
is that Sal Gonzalez is dead and that he was ambushed by someone within his own ranks. What I don’t understand is why all those people were swarming over his property in broad daylight. Did you actually see them, babe?”

“I saw figures dashing about the grounds, but Kevin turned the car round before we got close enough for me to see faces.”

“So, for all you know, they could have been your own guys, staging the break-in for your benefit.”

Porcha shrugged. “I guess. But why?”

“To frighten you off,” Troy said slowly. “Because someone, whoever staged this fiasco, was interested in you.”

“Me!” Porcha jumped to her feet. “But why?”

Troy reached out, touched her arm, and she slowly subsided back into her seat.

“In that case, why not just hide in the house and let her walk in?”

“Because whoever did this was playing a double game. He or they invited the guards to ransack the house, take whatever they wanted, knowing that Porcha was due home at any moment and she’d see it all.”

“Presumably, they’d also know that her driver would get her out of there fast.” Adam frowned. “Unless he was in on it, too?”

“I could call them both,” Porcha said. “Didn’t you say that might be a way to go?”

“No, I don’t think they were involved. Very few people know about this, and it explains the demand for fictitious diamonds and the arrival of those thugs at the hotel you were in, babe. They probably put a tracking device on your car so they knew where you were holed up, but you thought Kevin had betrayed you and bolted.” He paused. “Straight to the only place you thought was safe.”

“The apartment?”

“The perpetrator wanted to take over Sal’s business and his wife.” Troy focused his gaze on Porcha’s troubled face. “And it was someone who knew all his secrets, or had access to them, including the apartment. Any idea who wanted you badly enough to do all that, Porcha?”

“Woollard,” she said, the air leaving her lungs in an audible whoosh. “It could only be that sick bastard Woollard. Sal might not have told him about the apartment, but he was in a position to find out, what with the two of them being so tight.”

Porcha shook her head. “I don’t believe it,” she said softly, standing to pace the room, too agitated to remain in one place. “There are many things about him that repel me, but I would have sworn he was completely loyal to Sal.”

“Don’t let it get to you, babe.” Troy stood up, cut her off midpace, took her hand, and pulled her onto his lap as he resumed his seat. “Honour amongst thieves isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

She leaned against his chest and sighed. “Easy for you to say.”

“He doesn’t know you’re onto him, and that gives us an edge.”

“Troy’s right,” Beck said. “He usually is, and it’s fucking annoying.”

Adam laughed. “Too right. Anyway, I reckon Woollard deliberately staged that fiasco at your house just when he knew you’d be on your way back.”

“How did he know that? I could have been another hour or more.”

“Simple.” Troy shrugged. “If he did put a tracking device on the car, he’d have known where you were every step of the way. It’s what I’d have done in his place.”

“If it
was
on the car,” Adam said.

“Oh fuck!” Troy and Beck said together.

“See.” Adam winked at Porcha. “He doesn’t always think of everything.”

Porcha frowned. “What has he overlooked?”

“They could have put something on you.” Troy looked annoyed not to have thought of it sooner. “Well, not actually on your person but on something you carry with you all the time.”

“In which case they’ll know where I am now.”

“Exactly.” Adam grimaced. “Can I borrow your purse?”

“Sure.”

Adam tipped the contents on the table and went through them one by one, discarding anything unsuitable for hiding a bug in. Then he turned the large purse inside out, feeling along the seams for anything that didn’t sit right. Beck produced a weird-looking device from the study that looked a bit like a wand. Adam ran it all over the bag and shook his head.

“It’s clean.”

He repeated the process with the larger items from her purse, her cell phone and iPad, again with negative results.

“Then it has to have been a tracking device, unless Kevin was in on it, and it has to be Woollard,” Troy said doggedly. “He wanted to scare you shitless, which he pretty well managed to do, and then ride to the rescue.” Troy squeezed her hand. “You said yourself that you didn’t return his interest in you but that you
did
trust him. He would have known that.”

“So you think he did all this, killed my husband and presumably took over his business, just because he wanted me?” Porcha shook her head. “It seems a bit extreme, even for a megalomaniac like Woollard.”

“The three of us would do a damned sight more than that if it meant we could keep you to ourselves forever,” Beck told her, for once not smiling.

“Damned right,” Adam agreed.

“We’d die to keep you alive,” Troy said simply.

Beck nodded. “No question about it.”

“Thanks,” Porcha said, moved by their obvious sincerity, especially since she had only known them for a couple of days. “Let’s hope that doesn’t become necessary.”

“It goes with the territory in our line of work,” Adam said almost casually.

“If it is Woollard, why all the theatrics?” Porcha asked. “I know I had my cell switched off, but he has my e-mail address. It would have been a lot easier just to send me a damned message, surely?”

Troy shook his head and smiled grimly. “Like I said, he wanted you to sweat a bit first. He wanted you to be really frightened so that you’d trust him. Better the devil you know and all that.” Troy shifted his position, and Porcha instinctively leaned a little more of her weight against his broad chest, taking comfort from his strength and the resolution in his expression. “I’m willing to bet he was about to make a move on you at the apartment, which was why he had someone watching to make sure the coast was clear. Only problem is, we turned up and spoiled the party for him.”

“How inconsiderate can you get?” Beck asked.

“Unless he knows who we are, he has no idea where you are now,” Adam said. “He didn’t expect you to get away, so he’s all out of options. My guess is that he will have to e-mail you before much longer.”

Porcha slid off Troy’s knee, fired up her iPad, and checked her e-mail.

“Nothing yet.”

“Good, then we have time to think of an alternative strategy.”

“Does Woollard know of your friendship with Georgio?” Beck asked.

Porcha lifted her shoulders. “I didn’t tell him, and I can’t think of any reason why Sal would have.”

“Sal didn’t tell him about the apartment, but it looks like Woollard knew,” Troy pointed out.

“Just as a matter of interest, how come Sal let you stay in touch with Georgio if he was so protective?” Adam asked.

She shrugged. “I’m not really sure. He knew of our history and didn’t see him as a threat, I guess.”

Beck frowned. “Do you think Georgio’s in danger?”

“Unless Woollard’s into hacking e-mail accounts—”

“I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Porcha said, shuddering.

“Georgio sends all his stuff through remote servers. They can’t be traced back to him, and he didn’t sign any of the stuff he sent to you, did he, babe?” Troy asked.

“No, but if he’s got into my account he wouldn’t need to be Einstein to figure out who I’d contacted and why.” Porcha dropped her face against Troy’s shoulder. “Shit, this is getting messy!”

“So, three guys turning up on your doorstep could only mean Georgio sent them,” Troy said, gently massaging the back of her head. “Woollard would know what he does.”

Porcha covered her mouth with one hand. “Does that mean that I’ve placed Georgio in danger?”

“Don’t worry about that. Georgio can look after himself.” Troy ran his large hands down her back in a manner that reassured. “But he does need to be warned about Woollard.”

Troy lifted Porcha from his lap and went into the study to make the call. He returned after a few minutes, grim faced.

“He now knows the score.”

But Porcha could see that Troy was worried, which only increased her own fear.

“What now, boss?” Adam asked.

“I guess we wait for Woollard to get in touch.” Troy shrugged. “We don’t know where he is, so we can’t go after him.”