Page 13 of Lord of Debauchery

As I headed downstairs, I realized the four men had converged on my kitchen, likely making a mess.

I walked in quietly, able to catch a tiny bit of their conversation.

“If you ask me, it’s still Renkoff Sergio. You know he wants nothing more than to move up in the New York Bratva.”

The guy talking was blond, more the epitome of some surfer guy than a criminal. I hung back, hoping I was hidden.

“Nah, it’s not him,” the oldest of the four men said. “Not his style to disguise who and what he is, a true fucking savage. Sure, he’s been making noise about crashing into the Kennedy territory, but I doubt he’d got the balls or the backing to take us down to that degree.”

“I agree with Camden. The Bratva are hardcore. And they would have finished the job, which means we would have died in that explosion.” Beckham was still holding court.

“Then who the hell is chasing us down like dogs, setting up a ruse like they did?” the other guy asked, obviously exasperated.

“That’s what we’re going to find out but not until we have some goddamn internet service. Can you do something about that, James?”

I took that moment to walk in, giving all four of them a hard look. “You don’t have permission to touch anything. I spent a hell of a lot of money bringing this place up another notch. You’re not going to destroy it.”

“Good to see you’ve decided to join the party. Gentlemen, this is the lovely Kenya Markham, the owner of this fine B & B. She’s been gracious enough to offer us room and board for the night. Kenya, this is Camden, the man in charge of security for my organization. This is Jeff, my right-hand lieutenant in this invisible yet bloody war. And the last guy with the impish grin is James, the MIT thug I mentioned. I assure you that his finesse in handling computer, security, and communications systems is the sole reason I hired him.”

“Not for my good looks?” James countered.

Beckham only threw him a quick look, concentrating his stare on me. When he slowly lowered his gaze, I’d never felt more undressed by a man’s eyes than I did at this moment. The feeling wasn’t entirely uncomfortable either.

“Fine. You can glance at the server, which is in that room over there, but you can’t build a cell tower even with your skills. This is Camden, Maine, a sleepy town full of mysterious and odd people. That makes it a great tourist attraction, out of towners hoping to see ghosts.” I moved toward my glass, forced to shift between three of them, who were likely nursing or gulping their second drinks. It was only liquor but that wasn’t the point.

They didn’t try to stop me as I took my glass, the gesture a reason to grab my keys from my purse. It hadn’t been moved. That offered me some comfort.

“I’ll just take a looksee,” James said. “I might be able to tweak the signal, which can help immensely. Be right back, boss.”

Boss. I almost burst into laughter. I wondered what kind of boss the man truly was. Maybe I didn’t really want to find out. I set the glass back down without refilling it, worried my stomach wouldn’t cooperate.

“Why don’t the two of you take another walk around the grounds while our hostess makes us something delicious to eat,” Beckham said, although I doubted he was suggesting something. He was ordering them to do so.

“Yes,” I growled as I started pulling out ingredients from the refrigerator. “A feast meant for four fine criminals.”

“Whew,” one of the two whistled. “We’ll keep watch.” I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed the duffle bag they’d brought with them.

But I could tell by the length and size that it likely held weapons. Or maybe I’d seen too many movies. I was forced to place my purse on the floor so I could get out what I needed. All was quiet after the other two men left. I pulled out pasta from the cabinet, uncertain I could do this. I was usually very brave, had been my entire life. Living and working in New York City had certainly forced me to become very self-sufficient, learning defense and how to stay away from the worst locations where I could be attacked or worse.

I’d also watched my brother being trained, forced to learn every martial art skill out there.

I never suspected the worst thing that could happen to me was in a tiny town in my own very safe bed and breakfast. I did what I could not to break down. Maybe Beckham was more honest than I gave him credit for.

When I felt his presence directly behind me, the same tingling sensations from when he’d been rolling on top of me rushed into my system. I hated the way he made me feel, as if my entire body had come alive from his presence alone.

He reached around me, grabbing the bottle of wine, refilling my glass. As he tried to hand it to me, I let out a single strangled moan. That was all the bastard would get out of me.

“Take a drink of it, Kenya. Just calm down. There is nothing to worry about.”

“Are you kidding me?” I snatched the glass from him, drops slipping past the rim on both sides. When I spun around, the closeness of his body was overwhelming, my mind trying to process why I was attracted to him at all. It seemed more than implausible.

“No, I’m not kidding you. I’m really not into hurting women.”

“But you are men?”

“If necessary.”

“So that makes you what, some drug lord?”

---