Her Three Protectors [The Hot Millionaires #3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (22 page)

But how to get him close enough to her to have a shot at it?

“Dumb question, Porcha.”

She rolled her eyes. He was a man, wasn’t he? She recalled the look in his horrible, piggy eyes when he patted her down, how he zeroed in on her tits when he cut her hands free. She almost chuckled as she threw off all her clothes.

“It hardly seems fair,” she muttered as she placed her kit where it would be obvious if…when he opened the door. She left her bra and panties conspicuously on top on the pile, crawled under the blanket holding her precious weapon close to her side, and waited.

* * * *

“You’re Sal’s son?” Troy glared at Woollard, not believing a word of it.

“Yep.”

“Porcha didn’t mention it.”

“She doesn’t know.”

“What, Porcha didn’t know that her husband had a son older than she was?” Adam shared a sceptical look with the other two.

“Excuse us if I find that hard to believe,” Beck chimed in.

“My mother was a Brit, like Porcha. Sal obviously went for classy English women. They weren’t married, but Sal was mad about her, according to her, anyway. She fell pregnant about the same time she found out what Sal did for a living and what he was capable of, so she ran home to England and never saw him again.”

“Did he know about you?”

“Not until eight years ago when Mom died. She told me about him but made me promise not to get in touch. She was convinced he’d want to control me if he knew he had a son, so out of respect for her, I didn’t contact him until after she died.”

“Did he believe you when you turned up on his doorstep claiming to be his long-lost son?”

Woollard rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Anyway, I told him who my mom was, showed him my birth certificate, and explained that I’d taken my mother’s maiden name. It said ‘father unknown,’ but I think the dates got Sal thinking. Anyway, I offered to undergo DNA testing because I wanted to know for sure even if he didn’t. He agreed, and it was a match.”

Beck threw him a dirty look. “That must have made you very proud.”

“He took me under his wing after that,” Woollard said, shrugging off Beck’s sarcasm. “He grilled me for hours about Mom’s life after she left him, and he obviously didn’t like what he heard.”

“My heart bleeds,” Adam muttered.

“We didn’t have a lot, but Mom worked her butt off for what we did have, even though she could have made life a lot easier for herself if she’d wanted to. She was good looking, and tons of men were interested in her.” Woollard shared a perplexed look between them. “I never understood why she didn’t but always thought it was a case of once bitten and all that.”

“Gonzalez never publicly acknowledged you,” Troy pointed out.

“He didn’t want anyone to know our true relationship because he was paranoid about people close to him getting kidnapped, or worse.”

“Why were you so keen to meet him if your mom felt the way she did about him?”

“Like I said, Mom had standards. Unfortunately, that meant living in a rundown part of London and going without everything. Having a rich drug dealer for a father sounded quite sophisticated by comparison.” He sighed. “It was a while before I realized Mom was right about him. I kinda respected him, but I could see just what a control freak he actually was. She said all along that if he’d known about me, he never would have given up until he had me with him. Same with her. I’ve often thought that’s why he was so protective of Porcha. He’d lost the first love of his life. He wasn’t taking any chances with the second.”

“Informative as all this is,” Troy said, actually believing it now, “we have more important things to worry about. Sanchez-Punto has Porcha.”

“He thinks she knows where Sal’s latest shipment of stones is,” Woollard said. “Which is why I wanted to get hold of her before he did.”

Troy raised an ironic brow. “You don’t know where the stones are either, I take it.”

“No, but—”

Beck fixed Woollard with a malevolent glare. “Sal loved her so much that he dropped her in it to save his own skin?”

“I can’t even begin to think why he did that.” Woollard shook his head. “He had some odd perversions that probably made Porcha hate him as much as she once loved him, but one thing’s never been in doubt, at least not in my mind. He loved Porcha and would have died for her.”

“Apparently not,” Adam said.

“Kevin,” Troy said. “There’s one thing I don’t understand—”

“Only one?”

Troy silenced Beck with a wave of one hand. “Mrs. Gonzalez said you drove her back to the Jupiter house, saw a gunfight going on, and got right on out of there. What was that all about?”

“That was me,” Woollard answered for him. “Sal went to Mexico to sell out his drugs business to a rival. He’d promised Porcha he’d get out when he married her and had gradually been doing just that, but these things take time. We were there to finalize everything in person.”

“So why Jupiter’s answer to the OK Corral?”

“I’m getting to that. His greatest rival, and enemy, was Sanchez-Punto. They have a long history. Anyway, Sal wouldn’t even think of selling to him, but he got word that Sal and I would be in Mexico
City, and they were waiting for us. But they didn’t care about drugs—”

“They wanted the diamonds,” Troy finished for him.

“Right. They ambushed us, which was only possible because we’d been sold out by a person, or people, we trusted. Fernandez, the guy Sal did sell out to, got to us, but it was too late for Sal. He got me back to the States pronto so I could find out who’d turned on us. I was pretty badly bashed up, but I needed to be here, which is one of the reasons why I couldn’t come looking for Porcha right away. Anyway, we surprised the guards, and the two guilty parties opened the gates and tried to make a run for it.”

“Which is what we almost drove in on,” Kevin added.

“Unfortunately, we didn’t get them all,” Woollard said.

“Let me guess.” Troy rubbed his jaw with one hand. “Your fellow driver, Kevin?”

“Yeah,” Woollard said. “Trevor had been with Sal for twenty years, and the bastard did the dirty on us.” Woollard’s head shot up. “But how did you figure that out?”

“They traced Kevin and Porcha to the hotel they checked into. I thought it was you, to be honest, and that you’d used a tracking device.” He shrugged. “Process of elimination.”

“Yeah, well, I knew about the apartment in Tampa and stupidly sent Trevor to see if Porcha was there. He must have told his new best friends, but presumably, you got to her first.” Woollard breathed deeply. “Thank God for that.”

“Where will they be holding her?” Troy asked.

“Almost certainly in his warehouse. He has one on the waterfront. Sanchez-Punto is an out-and-out family man, and he’d never take a hostage into his home and have his family exposed to the sordid side of his working life.”

“He must have other properties.”

“Yeah, but I still think the warehouse is where she’ll be, at least overnight.”

“Let’s go,” Troy said.

* * * *

Incredible as it seemed, Porcha must have dozed. She’d waited several hours for Raul to return, not daring to get out of bed because sod’s law said he’d come back at the one time she wasn’t ready for him. Then, of all things, she fell asleep. Her life was on the line and she was sleeping?

The sound of heavy footsteps on the tiled floor outside her prison woke her. Before she heard keys jangling in the locks she started moaning loud enough to wake the dead. The door opened just a couple of inches, and the barrel of a gun appeared round it.

“Where are you, bitch?”

“Argh, that hurts!”

Porcha brought her knees up to her chest and hugged them with her battered arms, writhing and whimpering when she sensed that Raul’s head had now followed the gun barrel round the door.

“What are you trying to pull now?”

“I think I cracked a rib or something when you jumped me on the street.” She writhed a little more, deliberately letting the blanket slip from her shoulder to reveal the side of one breast. “It hurts so bad I couldn’t stand the restriction of clothing.”

“I need you to stand up right now.”

“Do I look like I can stand up? I’m in serious pain here. If you want me upright, you’ll have to help me.”

“Why the hell should I?” But he’d taken a step into the room, leaving the door open behind him as he eyed up her naked breast. “You’re nothing but trouble.”

“I think something’s ruptured inside. I can’t bear it. I—” She threw back the cover to reveal her naked body. “Please! Your boss wants me alive, but something’s seriously wrong.” Porcha forced out a few tears. “I think I passed out once already because of the pain, and I can’t—”

“Where does it hurt?”

“My belly.” She rolled onto her back, keeping her knees drawn up, and cried out when she touched her abdomen. He didn’t appear to notice. Judging by the bulge in his pants, he had other ideas. “It’s so painful. I can’t stand it.”

“You better not be faking.”

“Do I look like I’m faking?” Porcha clutched her stomach and moaned even louder. “Just go away if you don’t want to help me. I’m sure your boss won’t blame you if I finish up in the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, you won’t be going nowhere ’cause Mr. Sanchez-Punto has had a change of plans. He’s on his way to see you here right now, which is why you need to get up.”

“Yeah, like that’s gonna happen. Oh God, I think I’m bleeding.”

That seemed to convince Raul to do something. He put the gun aside, leaned over her, and touched her stomach with one finger. “It hurts here?”

It was the best chance she was likely to get. As quick as a flash, she lifted her weapon and brought it down over his bent head with as much force as she could muster. He screamed as blood poured from a vicious-looking cut on the side of his head but had such a thick skull that he remained on his feet. Porcha didn’t intend for that situation to continue. Whilst he staggered about clutching his head, blood seeping through his fingers, she leapt from the bed and took to the air. With both feet off the ground she made perfect contact with his neck, scissoring it between her feet. He landed heavily and finally lost consciousness.

Porcha didn’t hang about, pretty sure he hadn’t come alone. She pulled on her jeans and top without bothering with her underclothes. She threw her thong at the prostrate man, and it landed on his face.

“You were keen enough to get into my knickers, asshole, so knock yourself out.” She let out an almost hysterical giggle. “Oh sorry, I already took care of that part, didn’t I?”

She grabbed his gun. It felt heavy and unfamiliar but was hopefully loaded. Pausing only to check on the safety and how to remove it, she cautiously peered round the open door. Damn, Raul was moaning. She would like to take the time to find his cell phone but didn’t dare risk it. It wouldn’t take him long to come round, and, much as she disliked him, she didn’t really want to do him further harm.

Unless she had to.

She slipped from the room and could see someone pacing up and down outside the street door, directly beneath an outside light. He was smoking and didn’t seem to be particularly alert. He also didn’t seem to be wondering what was keeping Raul, presumably because Raul had intended to deliver more than just food to Porcha.

Their thinking they could get away with abusing her lent Porcha fresh determination. She waited until the guard had paced as far away from the light as he ever seemed to, opened the door, and stepped out, keeping to the shadow outside of the light’s range. Unfortunately, the door didn’t close quietly and alerted the guard.

“That was quick,” he said, grinning. “Hey, what the—”

Porcha now had no choice. He’d seen her and couldn’t let her go. She had to act whilst she still had him off guard. Whilst he was still reaching for his gun, she flicked off the safety on her own, aimed for the guy’s shoulder, and pulled the trigger. The gun felt heavy and unfamiliar and jerked upward when she fired her shot. He yelled and fell to the ground, clutching his arm. Her aim had been off. She suspected she’d only winged him, but it was enough to give her a brief advantage.

In full survival mode, Porcha saw headlights turn the corner and took off running in the opposite direction.

* * * *

Woollard was in the truck with the guys, directing Beck on the quickest route. It was midevening, but Miami traffic was as clogged up as ever, causing all four men to fume with frustration.

“It’s up ahead,” Woollard finally said as they turned the corner.

“What the fuck?” Troy peered through the windshield. “Who’s that running away? I’d swear that was Porcha.”

“It is,” Beck said, putting his foot down, “and she thinks we’re the bad guys.”

A car came from the opposite direction, and Porcha was caught like a rabbit in both sets of headlights. In the moment she took to hesitate, Troy and Adam both leapt from the still-moving truck, calling her name. She snapped her head in their direction. It finally appeared to register with her who they were, and she ran full tilt toward them. At the same time, several people spilled from the other car, firing at them.