Chapter Eight
EVE LAY in the darkened bedroom, listening to the cute sounds Hashtag and Roadkill made while they slept on either side of her. So far, sleep had proved elusive, and she had a good idea what lay at the root of her insomnia.
I need to tell them.
She’d been on the brink of sharing with them that afternoon, until Roadkill had gotten the idea of him and Hashtag skinny-dipping and roughhousing in the lake before dinner. Eve had been content to sit on the grassy bank, watching them and laughing her ass off.
There’ll be another time.
Except with a mission looming in the UK, there really was no time like the present.
I still can’t believe how my life has changed so drastically, and for the better.
Not everything was sunshine and roses, however.
There were the nightmares to contend with, except she was careful not to let Hashtag and Roadkill anywhere near those.
Hellish dreams where she was still a Geran officer, watching her military buddies stepping over the broken and bleeding bodies of the two men she loved.
It could have ended up like that if she hadn’t learned the truth.
Her mates could have died, and she would have walked over their corpses in order to spread Geran lies through violence.
True, she’d already turned her back on all that by the time she met them, but that didn’t quell the nagging feelings of what could have been.
And because of one decision to help the Fridans, everything had changed.
A far brighter future loomed in front of her, one where two men would do her bidding in the bedroom, and outside of it they would trust her to be strong enough not to need their help, but she’d still be grateful it would be there if she ever required it.
There was still one hurdle to overcome .
She hadn’t known Roadkill and Hashtag all that long, so she had no idea if their masculinity would feel bruised when they discovered the truth.
Eve had read a lot on the subject and knew being the breadwinner was central to many men’s sense of self.
Her experience of Geran males had shown her the mere thought of a woman breadwinning caused such a psychological burden for them that they would prefer women not to be employed at all.
The old stereotype of keeping women barefoot and pregnant, chained to the stove, could have been written with Gerans in mind.
But Hashtag and Roadkill aren’t like that. We’re all soldiers. We’re paid the same. We fight together. We’re equal.
Except she knew her secret might change that perception.
“If you don’t turn your brain off and go to sleep, I may have to spank you,” Roadkill muttered.
Eve jumped. “Did I wake you up?”
Please, tell me you didn’t see too far into my head.
“I wasn’t enjoying my dream, so I woke myself up.” He pulled her to him. “God, you smell good.” He stroked down her arm. “Love the way your skin feels.”
“Hey, no fair. Feeling left out here.” Hashtag curled around her, and there she was, sandwiched between two hard bodies.
Getting harder by the second.
Eve sat up. “I’m going downstairs to make some hot chocolate.” If she spent a moment longer in bed, she knew exactly what would happen, and while making love with them would provide a welcome distraction, it would only be putting off the inevitable.
Roadkill caught her hand. “We’re coming too.” He snapped on the bedside lamp.
“We are?” Hashtag exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.
He nodded. “And we’re not coming back to bed until Eve has told us whatever it is she hasn’t told us yet.”
Hashtag blinked. “I think I must still be asleep, because that made no sense at all.”
She should have known better than to keep it from them. “You’re right. We need to talk.” Roadkill passed her the silky apricot-colored robe he’d bought for her, and she slipped it on. They crept down the wooden staircase, as quiet as mice, and into the large kitchen that managed to feel homey .
Hashtag opened the refrigerator and grinned. “Leftover hamburgers and mozzarella sticks. Midnight snack time.”
Roadkill rolled his eyes. “You’re supposed to be handing me the hot chocolate, not feeding your tape worm.”
And there’s my cue.
“I can’t wait for this mission,” she said nonchalantly. “The first thing I’ll do when I get you two to England is to feed you some proper food.”
“What’s wrong with hamburgers and mozzarella sticks?” Hashtag remonstrated.
Eve wrinkled her nose. “Really? When there’s roast beef, Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes…. And don’t even get me started on breakfast.” She grinned. “You both need some proper feeding up. I’m thinking a full English with a nice cuppa, followed by an absolutely amazing round of sex, then—”
“Wait—sex?” Roadkill’s eyes gleamed. “ Psh . I’ll eat anything you want.”
She smirked at him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Eve swallowed. “But seriously? There’s something I need to tell you before we go on the mission.”
Roadkill leaned against the countertop, hot as fuck in nothing but his white shorts, hair sticking up as usual, glasses perched on the end of his nose, arms folded.
“The hot chocolate can wait.”
Eve pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “You remember I told you my parents moved to the States when I was ten?” Both of them nodded. “Well, what I didn’t mention was the fact that I still have a lot of relatives over in the UK. Actually most of them are in Lancashire.”
Hashtag grinned. “No wonder you recognized the accent.” His eyes lit up. “Oh, I get it. Do you want to visit your family when we’re over there? I don’t think H would mind. It might have to wait until after the—”
“Can you stop talking, please? Just for a minute or two?” She took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been building up the nerve to talk about this ever since we found each other, and it isn’t easy, okay?”
Roadkill joined her at the table, Hashtag a moment later. Roadkill took her hand.
“Whatever it is, I guarantee it’s not as bad as you think it’s going to be.”
Gods, she hoped so.
“Okay.” Another calming breath. “The thing is… my grandfather’s dying.
And before you start commiserating? Don’t.
He used his home as a meeting place in the old days—for Gerans.
It makes my blood run cold to th ink of what was discussed under that roof.
But the reason I’m telling you all this?
When I joined the military, Grandfather wasn’t happy.
He said my place was at the side of my future husband.
” She scowled. “I think he even had a few guys already picked out for me. I told him I wanted to serve. So he said he was going to change his will in my favor, so that when he passed, his home would belong to me. He didn’t say it implicitly , but I think he figured I’d get a man who’d take care of the little woman and force me to stay home, waiting for my big, strong husband to save me.
Thing is, I was never going to be that girl. ”
“Like fuck you would,” Hashtag snapped. “You, my sweet thing, are a big, strong, independent woman who kicks ass and doesn’t bother to take names.”
Roadkill grinned. “What he said. We love you for who you are, not who you’re expected to be. If we ever, and I mean ever act like that—”
“I’ll kick your asses, promise.” That earned her a laugh.
“So why are you telling us this now?” Hashtag asked.
She sighed. “My parents loved his idea. It meant they wouldn’t have to worry about my future.
It wasn’t as if they needed the property—Mom had already inherited her parents’ place.
Even my brother loved the idea, because he certainly didn’t want to be tied down to such a huge undertaking.
I guess my grandfather intended it to be a sort of incentive for me to leave my career and become one of the ladies who lunch, who run charities, who support their husband’s political campaign, who organize the tours, who―”
“Tours? What kind of tours?” Hashtag asked, his brow furrowed.
Another swallow. “Tours… of the house. People pay to visit it.”
Roadkill blinked. “He’s leaving you a house big enough to draw tourists ?” He grinned. “It’s not Buckingham Palace, is it?”
Eve pointed to Hashtag’s laptop, which was never too far from him. “Fire that up. Then I want you to google something.”
He did as instructed. “Okay. What am I searching for?”
“Gawthorpe Hall.”
Keys clattered, and she knew the minute he’d found it when both men gasped in sync.
“Holy fuck!” Hashtag croaked.
“Welcome to my ancestral pile,” she quipped.
“I don’t think Buckingham Palace was all that far off the mark,” Roadkill admitted .
“Listen to this.” Hashtag read aloud. “‘Gawthorpe Hall is an Elizabethan country house on the banks of the River Calder, in Ightenhill, a civil parish in the Borough of Burnley, Lancashire, England.’”
“My jaw dropped at Elizabethan.” Roadkill stared at her. “And it’s going to be yours?”
She nodded. “Well, more accurately, it’d be ours.”
“It’s got forty acres,” Hashtag said with a low whistle.
Eve snorted. “It had more than that, but in 1955, the chairman of the local football team bought eighty acres of Gawthorpe land to set up a purpose-built training center.”
“Oh my God, would you look at this place?” Hashtag sounded awed.
“I don’t have to—I’ve seen it in real life,” she told him.
“In the mid-nineteenth century,” Hashtag read, “the hall was rebuilt by Charles Barry, the architect of the Houses of Parliament. Since 1953 it has been designated a Grade I listed building.” He frowned. “What does that mean?”
She chuckled. “It means you can’t change a damn thing about it, at least not in any way that alters the look of the place. Stuff like windows, heating….”
Hashtag slowly lowered the lid of the laptop. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
Her heart pounded, and her palms grew clammy.
“Well, I do.” Roadkill grinned. “Our mate is an English heiress. Oh. My. God.” He beamed. “Way to go, baby! Whatever will you do with it? It’s way too big to live in.”
“I haven’t decided yet.” Eve breathed a little easier. “Then you’re okay with this?”
Hashtag gaped at her. “Hey….” He got up from his chair, walked over to her, and knelt beside her. “You were really worried about this, weren’t you?”
She gave another nod.
“But why?” Roadkill demanded.
“I thought you might see me differently. Most of the men I’ve ever met would be intimidated. The rest would be drooling, like I was some kind of cash cow.” She shuddered out a breath. “I should have known you two wouldn’t be like them.”
Hashtag kissed her. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed. I can also understand that, given its history, you might not want to dirty your hands with it. ”
She sagged with relief. “There have been times when I’d thought seriously about razing it to the ground, except the local county council have a ninety-nine-year lease on the place, and together with the National Trust, they’ve forked out about half a million pounds to restore the south and west sides of the house.
So I’d probably get my ass thrown in jail. ”
Hashtag stared at her. “And to think you sounded impressed when you got your first look at this house. It’s probably the size of one of the garden chicken coops at Gawthorpe.”
She chuckled. “I thought I sounded suitably amazed. But I’ll tell you both something. There’s more love within these four walls than in every inch of my grandfather’s place.”
“Can we go see it?” Roadkill asked. “You know, when we’re over there?”
Her heartbeat quickened. “You’d like to see it?”
“Of course. It’s part of your history.” He cocked his head. “How long has it been in the family?”
“Oh, not all that long,” she said with a shrug. “Only about four hundred years.”
Their joint expressions of shock had her laughing.
Roadkill gazed at the packet of hot chocolate mix. “I feel as if we should be drinking champagne instead.”
Eve wasn’t in the mood for hot chocolate either.
She stood, holding out her hands. “Take me back to our bed, boys. I want to watch you two make love to each other.” Eve smiled. “In fact, I want you to tire yourselves out so much that Roadkill falls asleep with his dick in your ass.”
Hashtag’s soft hitch told her he really liked that idea.
As they climbed the stairs, Roadkill squeezed her hand. “One thing you might want to consider….”
“Hmm?”
“Your grandfather used it for Geran purposes. Nothing to stop you using it for Fridan purposes when it’s yours.”
Whoever had brought the three of them together had certainly known what they were doing. Eve couldn’t imagine two more perfect mates.
And we’re going to need each other.
The storm that had begun with the raid in northern Maine now appeared as if it was going to develop into something far worse—with far-reaching consequences.