Love Under Two Outcasts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)
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The Lusty, Texas Collection
Love Under Two Outcasts
Charlotta is mostly not ashamed of the way she paid for her college degree. Mostly. As an exotic dancer at a gentlemen’s club, she earned enough to get her degree in psychology.
But sometimes the scorn she’s suffered in the past comes back to haunt her. She fears a similar reaction from Jesse and Barry Benedict. Will they still think she’s good enough for them if she tells them the truth?
Jesse and Barry know all about past mistakes and regret. Feeling like outcasts, they left their Montana home and headed to Lusty, hoping to make a new start. Once they understand that Charlotta is their soul mate, they confess their sins of the past—because they want their relationship to have a solid foundation.
As Jesse and Barry rush to save Charlotta from a stalker, they all soon learn that moving on is easier said than done—and requires a bigger leap of faith than they’d ever imagined.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 85,509 words
LOVE UNDER TWO OUTCASTS
The Lusty, Texas Collection
Cara Covington
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
LOVE UNDER TWO OUTCASTS
Copyright © 2014 by Cara Covington
E-book ISBN: 978-1-63258-731-2
First E-book Publication: December 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Letter to Readers
Dear Readers,
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www.SirenPublishing.com
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you, dear readers. When I first came up with the idea to begin a contemporary series, using the descendants of my two historical novels for the Lost Collection, I hoped I might get to tell five, maybe even six stories. Love Under Two Outcasts is story number twenty-two—and the twenty-fourth visit with Benedicts, Jessops, and Kendalls. This book represents another milestone, as well. It is my 40th title with Siren! Because of your loyalty, Lusty is alive and well. Thank you for reading, for contacting me, and for showing me your hearts.
Thanks go to my new Author’s Assistant, Bea Connors. Bea has been a friend since we met online through Kelley Armstrong’s website. She is a teacher, a blogger, an editor, and a great friend to authors and readers alike. Her help has been invaluable.
Huge thanks go to the members of my street team, the Lusty Ladies. Your tireless promotion and your wonderful friendships are two of my greatest blessings.
A very special thank you goes to Susan Cooper, a devoted reader, a medical professional, and an intrepid horsewoman. Thank you, Susan, for helping me add veracity to my story. Any mistakes made are truly my own.
This is another Lusty-Divine crossover book. I am so grateful to the amazingly talented Heather Rainier for sharing her characters with me, and mostly, for being my friend. I love working on these crossovers with you! Heather, I love you, and Mr. R., and the younger Rainiers with all my heart.
Finally, thank you to the hardworking professional men and women at Siren Publishing. Every single one of them works hard to bring our readers the very best our stories can be. Thank you again for saying yes.
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated, as always, to my husband, David, who continues to be my biggest fan.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
About the Author
LOVE UNDER TWO OUTCASTS
The Lusty, Texas Collection
CARA COVINGTON
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
May 2014
“All rise!”
Phil Maxwell got to his feet, along with everyone else in the courtroom, as Judge Margery Birney entered and took her place behind the bench.
“Please be seated.” The bailiff’s expression gave nothing away, which Phil had already decided was typical for the dour-faced man. The judge turned her attention to the jury.
“Madam Forewoman, has the jury reached a verdict?”
“We have, Your Honor.”
Judge Birney looked toward where he was sitting, but her
gaze landed on the man beside him, his defense attorney. “The defendants will please stand.”
He didn’t need his lawyer’s nudge to get him to his feet again. As he stood, he took a moment to make eye contact with his brother, Gord, and then his best friend, Brent Haygard. In true Three Musketeers fashion, they’d insisted on being tried together. The fancy-ass lawyers his folks had hired for him and Gordo hadn’t been happy with their decision. They’d tried to argue that, considering Brent was also going to be facing another trial for sexual assault as soon as this one was done, they’d be better off to cut their ties with the man.
Phil had gotten in the lawyers’ faces and told them, straight up, no fucking way. Real friends stick together. Real friends help each other and cheer each other, and have each other’s backs. End of story.
They sure as fuck don’t plant a damned GPS tracking device on your truck and then call the cops on you. Guess that just goes to show that those two Benedict bastards were never really our friends.
The last five months had turned into a shit-storm of biblical proportions. First those two bastards who’d always—they’d thought—been their best friends had beat the crap out of them. And for what?
One moment, they were talking like always. The next moment, bam! All Phil and Gordo had done was offer their condolences that their sister Veronica had turned out to be a whore, hooking up the way she had with those two old men down in Texas. So maybe he shouldn’t have said what he did. Hell, if we’d known good ol’ Chubbs had wanted to ride two cocks, we’d have been happy to double-hump her. Yeah, in hindsight they probably deserved to be punched out for that comment.
But when those two ratted them out to the cops? No, that had crossed a line. As soon as they were found not guilty, he, Gord, and Brent were going to have to teach those two bastards where the bear shit in the buckwheat.
Despite the old woman worries of their lawyers, the three of them were convinced that this jury would find them innocent. Really, what had the prosecution had as evidence? Phil didn’t care what anyone said. Here in Montana, folks didn’t cotton to the damn federal government interfering in every damn thing. They had no solid evidence, as far as Phil was concerned. Just a bunch of fucking hearsay evidence, that was all they’d had. He and Gord had been smart enough not to put their earnings from horse trading in the bank. They’d insisted on being paid in cash, and kept that cash hidden. Sure, they’d been big spenders at Jib’s and The Tank, the two bars they liked to frequent. But so the fuck what? Treating their friends to a few drinks and showing broads a good time was what real men did.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There was his mother, Elizabeth Jameson Maxwell, looking like a million bucks, as always. She didn’t seem nervous in the least. The impatience on her face, a familiar expression, just reinforced for him everything he’d been thinking in the last few minutes or so.
Mom would just as soon skin the federal judge and the entire fucking federal government and be done with it.
The jury hadn’t deliberated for very long. They’d been at it for only about an hour and a half. That had to be good for them. Let’s get this shit done so we can get out of here. I need a fucking drink.
“Madame Forewoman, on the first count, under section eight of the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro Act, violation of Statute 43CFR9264.7, subsection one, the willful removal of a wild free-roaming horse or burro from the public lands, without authority from an authorized officer, how do you find the defendants?”
“We find the defendants guilty, Your Honor.”
Phil’s body jerked, whether in response to his mother’s shocked gasp or the words just spoken, he didn’t know.
“On the second charge, under section eight of the Wild Free-Roaming Horse and Burro act, violation of Statute 43CFR9264.7 subsection two, conversion of a wild free-roaming horse or burro to private use, without authority from an authorized officer, how do you find the defendants?”
“We find the defendants guilty, Your Honor.”
Count after count—there had been 8 in all—they were found guilty, as charged.
“No! No! This can’t be happening! Are you all on crack?”
Phil closed his eyes as the sound of his mother’s outburst bounced off the walls of the courtroom. The shrill scream was as irritating as it was familiar.
The judge banged her gavel. “Mrs. Maxwell, you will restrain yourself or I will have you removed from my courtroom.”
Phil’s dad had his arm around his mom, shushing her, also a familiar sight. Usually she told him to fuck off, but this time she turned her head into his shoulder and wept.
Likely crying because of what this is going to do to her standing at the club. Phil knew that was an ugly thought, but there it was.
“Gentlemen, you’ve been found guilty on all counts by a jury of your peers. You will be remanded in custody until June 16th, at which time I will pass down sentencing.”
Custody? Phil and Gord had been out on bail, and so, too, had Brent! What the fuck!
Their lawyers both objected, of course. It’s about time those expensive suits began to earn the big bucks our parents pay them.
“Your Honor, we would like to suggest that the men remain free on a renewed bond, as they have been since charges were laid in February.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Beal. But none of your defendants hold jobs, nor are any of them family men. Those two factors alone make them, in my opinion, extreme flight risks. And when you add in the heinousness of the crimes of which they have now been convicted—no, sir. They will be remanded into custody.” She banged her gavel. “Court adjourned.”
Phil jerked when a big, burly cop approached him, grabbed his arms, pulled them behind his back, and cuffed him. He shook his head, hoping this was some kind of sick dream.
But no, it was no dream. He looked at his brother and Brent, cuffed and being perp-walked toward a door that had opened near the front corner of the courtroom. A door that led to a corridor, and jail cells. His mother was sobbing out loud now, and the sound made his guts twist up inside. We just wanted to teach those high and mighty Benedict assholes a lesson. Now they were going to jail? Because of fucking wild horses that no one really wanted?
He met his Dad’s gaze but didn’t see the sorrow he thought he’d see. Instead, disgust lined Jason Philip Maxwell’s face.
Phil turned away from his parents, and for the first time real fear and real fury grew inside him. He didn’t want to go to prison.
He vowed then and there to do everything he could to escape—and then he’d track down those fuckers, Jesse and Barry Benedict—and their whore of a sister—and teach them all a lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.
Chapter 1
June 2014
“I thought I’d get my invite in early.”
Charlotta Carmichael laughed. The voice of her good friend, Camilla Parks, provided a soothing balm on a day that had started out dismal. One of her clients—a teenage boy named Danny whom she’d only seen once—had been hospitalized after he’d swallowed a bottle of his mother’s prescription pills. He was in intensive care, and Charlotta was heartsick. Closing her eyes for one moment, she reminded herself that she could not take such things to heart. She wouldn’t last a year in the field of psychology if she did. Charlotta took in a deep breath and turned her attention back to the conversation.
“Early? Girlfriend, it’s already the first of June. There’s barely even a month until the Fourth of July.”
“More than three weeks ahead is mega advance planning on my part, all things considered.”
Her friend was not only the owner of a successful nightclub over in Morehead, but she was a wife to two strapping, gorgeous men, and the mother of two smaller and just as gorgeous boys—twin babies James and Joshua.
“I stand corrected. How are the babies? And I’m asking about the smaller ones, not the bigger ones.”
The sound of Camilla’s soft sigh stirred something inside her, a sense
of loneliness that had been popping up here and there in the last couple of weeks. No, it had been popping up in the last few months. Ever since I finally arrived at my long-range career goal and found it to be not quite all that I’d hoped it would be. The client part was as had been anticipated—challenging, and what she believed she was meant to do. But it wasn’t all encompassing. It wasn’t, damn it all, enough.
“They’re doing great, growing up so fast. I can’t believe they’re going to be a year old in a few weeks.”
“Neither can I. I guess I really should consider accepting your invitation so I can come and spoil my honorary nephews.”
“Do you remember when we would sit and chat after our shift at the Dollhouse in Morehead? All I ever wanted was to own my own nightclub. I never had a thought to falling in love, or having a family. I for sure never imagined falling in love with two men as wonderful as Quinten and Ben.” Camilla sighed again. “And yet, not only did I get my dream, I got the dream I never dared to dream. I am so lucky, and so very happy.” She paused, and then her tone turned fervent. “I wish that kind of happiness for you, too, Charlotta.”
Dangerous territory. Charlotta was beginning to believe that while some people could have it all, others could not. She very much suspected which of those two categories she fell into.
Not for the world would she have her good friend feeling sorry for her. She really did have a lot to be grateful for. “I am happy, Camilla. Seriously, I am. I’m employed at a center that also offers this wonderful outreach program that I get to manage that draws on my ranching background, which has me working with emotionally disturbed children. I know the work I am doing is making a difference.” Even if there are setbacks with some clients. I need to remember that, on the whole, what I do makes a difference. “I wish you wouldn’t worry about me.”