Page 28 of Mysteries, Menace, and Mates

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—”

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