Solace (The Kingwood Series Book 4)

by S. L. Scott

  “Which time?”

  “Both. Age doesn’t hold a candle to your beauty. But who cares if we get lines and both age if we’re living a good life and growing old together?” Taking her by the hips and wiggling them back and forth a bit, I say, “I’m not sorry about ruining your plan to grow old alone.”

  With a pretty smile on her face, she asks, “Why are you so good to me?”

  “Because you deserve good. Lots of it, and I intend to give it to you for the rest of your life.”

  “I love when you give it to me.”

  Leading her back to the bike, I say, “Speaking of giving it to you . . .”

  With my ass pressed to the leather, Delilah slides down my hard cock. Seated to the hilt, her head falls back and her hair sways across my thighs. When she tilts forward, she says, “I will never get tired of how good you feel inside me.”

  Fuck. “Show me how good I feel to you.”

  “So good,” she rasps.

  My stomach muscles tighten from the sound. “Fuck. I’m not gonna last long, babe.”

  She moves faster, her eyes closed, her nails digging into my shoulders. “Don’t come yet. I’m so close, Jason.”

  She’s an angel under a halo of strawberry-blond hair. A vixen who knows how to command her pleasure. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

  “Oh, yes. Jason,” she releases on a sharp-edged breath, her body tremors and her hands squeeze like that perfect pussy of hers.

  “Fuck.” I grab her by the hips and hold her down while I thrust until I’m emptied of everything held deep inside—my emotions, my secrets, my come, my sins. Everything is given to this goddess who rules my world and is healing my soul.

  My lids are heavy, and I drop my forehead against her chest, trying to catch my breath. I look at her, her gaze on me. She runs her fingers through my hair, and says, “I’d marry you if you asked. I want you to ask not for me, but for you. We’re not in a hurry. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “I love you.” We kiss and things feel settled between us in the good kind of way. “We should get back.”

  “It’s a shame to leave somewhere so beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here again.”

  “I’m glad we came.” I wink, amused by the double entendre.

  “So, do you always carry condoms in your pocket?”

  “Only when I’m with you.”

  “Good answer, Mr. Koster. Good answer.”

  Once we’re redressed and back on the bike ready to go, I lean back and ask, “You ready?”

  “Ready for anything.”

  I’ve been negligent. I’ve been back long enough to have stopped by to say hi, so here I am, walking along the far side of the field. The little house looks to be in good shape. Ricardo and Paloma always did take care of it.

  I find Ricardo on top of a tractor. He cuts the engine when he sees me. Leaning on the steering wheel, a smile that time recorded in the deep lines surrounding his mouth appears. “I was starting to wonder if you were ever going to come by.”

  Kicking the large tire, I gaze up using my hand to protect my eyes from the sun. “I should have come sooner.”

  He climbs down and we shake hands. “It’s good to see you, son. How are ya?”

  “I’m good. Staying out at the farm and helping Delilah with chores. You?”

  He sits on the step, shadowed by the tractor, and takes off his hat to wipe his forehead. “Keepin’ on with the keepin’ on. Heard you were hanging around these parts.”

  “Yeah,” I say, looking toward the farmhouse in the distance. “Never thought I’d be out here again—”

  “But here you are.” He smiles. “She’s always been a good girl.”

  “She has.” I shove my hands in my pockets. The conversation is awkward when I don’t want it to be. “I wanted to come by and say hi because things are getting serious with Delilah.”

  “Gettin’?”

  “Maybe already are.”

  “That’s what I thought, considering that truck of yours seems to be permanently parked over there.” He stands, but puts his foot on the step, the lightness already making room for the talk I knew was coming. “It’s not been easy for her. If you’re planning on leaving anytime soon then best be doing it now. She doesn’t need another broken heart.”

  “I’m not leaving anytime soon.” I glance over when a car drives by. When I turn back, I look him in the eye. “I’m going to marry her this time.”

  “You do right by her if you do. She deserves better than she’s gotten.”

  “I carry that regret heavy on my shoulders every day. If I would have known—”

  “Don’t let it weigh you down too much. I was right here and . . .” His gaze goes to the ground between us, and for the first time in my life, Ricardo looks . . . regretful. His body slumps. “We can’t change what’s happened.” The dark brown eyes hold more than memories, but are still optimistic. “I know you well enough, Jason, to know you’ll do right by her. But if you don’t, we own two shotguns, and Paloma and I aren’t afraid to use them.”

  “I’d forgotten how you never messed around.”

  “My days are long but there never seems to be enough time. I don’t have time to beat around the bush.” He reaches forward, and we shake hands again. “Good to see you, son. Since you’re hanging around, feel free to come give me an afternoon off here and there,” he jokes.

  “I will.”

  Sitting atop the old tractor, he says, “Make sure to say hello to my wife or she’ll give me a hard time. She’s not home right now, but she’s been dying to see you.”

  Delilah is fortunate to have them nearby. They care about her. They were there for her when I wasn’t, and I’m thankful she has them in her life. “She could have come over anytime. Both of you. You’re always welcome. You know that.”

  “Eh, I told her to give you and Delilah some time to grow together. I see it worked.”

  Chuckling, I reply, “It sure did. Thanks for that.”

  23

  Jason

  “Welcome to the Freeland County Fair and Rodeo.”

  The greeting screeches through the parking lot as I park the truck and get out. I scan the area, but it’s massive.

  One main ticketed entrance.

  Four gates to the left to exit.

  Too many ins and outs.

  I hate large events. Danger lurks everywhere. The lack of safety here is disconcerting, and I’m supposed to walk my girl right in there. So much can go wrong quickly. Reminding myself that I grew up coming here, I try to believe it’s safe. But I can think that all I want. Deep down I know crazy shit can happen without warning.

  Pushing these thoughts down isn’t going to be easy, but maybe that’s yet another penance I’ll pay for living the life of a mercenary.

  Delilah’s a reminder of the good in people.

  When I come around, Delilah slips out. The skirt of her dress slides up while her boots land on the gravel with ease. Her long, tan legs cause my dick to stir. As always. Looking around, I’m tempted to take her here. There aren’t many people here yet, but enough that we might be noticed since it’s only six o’clock and the sun is still high in the sky.

  I settle on a compliment. “Have I told you how pretty you look in that dress?”

  She’s blushing when she looks at me under the brim of her cowboy hat. “We’re not having sex here.”

  My hands go up in surrender. “I wasn’t going to suggest it.”

  “I know you, Jason Koster. I can see it on your face and the way you’re looking at me.”

  Grabbing her around the waist, I pull her against my hard-on. “I can’t help that you do things to me.”

  Her hands slide under my shirt, her nails scraping lightly against my stomach and arousing me even more. “I’ll tell you what. You win me a prize, a big prize, and we’ll try out what you suggested on the hay bale the other night.”

  Fuck yeah, I’ll win that prize. “Beautiful ass up, stomach flat on the hay bale, pounding
into you from behind.”

  Her pupils dilate. With a mischievous smile on her face, she bends and runs her tongue over my abs. “Wherever you want.”

  Fuck. My cock hurts from being restrained in these jeans.

  A sexy confidence she used to have when we dated has begun to return. She’s so damn tempting and maddening when she teases, but it makes it so much better when I’m deep inside her. She makes it to the end of the truck bed and turns back. “Well, c’mon now.”

  I grab hold of my dick and shift the best I can within the confines of the denim.

  “Let’s get a move on.” She saunters off. Looking back, she winks. “Good times await, stud.”

  I wasn’t kidding on winning her that prize. The offer she made is worth the money spent on dumb carnival games. But the biggest prize doesn’t come from hitting rigged milk bottles or tossing darts at balloons. Nope. The big prize of $500 cash is in sharpshooting.

  Seems this is my lucky day. I sign up for the tournament against hunters and gun owners who shoot for fun. Everyone in the state pretty much has a gun on his or her property, but they’ve never had to use it like I’ve had to. I’m feeling confident I can win this contest. Billy was taken out in the second round of the previous bracket, and he warned me about the competition.

  It’s not just about hitting the targets. When I see Cole Cutler hanging out at the judge’s table, laughing, working them over, I realize this isn’t just about the cash prize for me. It is about dominance and instilling fear in him. Delilah isn’t his, and I won’t be intimidated. I’m hoping for the chance to go against him.

  After signing up, I return to Delilah who’s eating pink cotton candy. Can’t avoid getting hard watching her tongue dip and swirl the sugar around it. “You’re going to tease me all night, aren’t you?”

  “Sure am.” She giggles as her hand finds mine. “When I said I wanted a big prize, it doesn’t have to be this one.”

  “Yes. It does.”

  Her laughter stops. She’s spotted Cole. Everyone has. The way he parades around here like he’s Grand Marshall makes it hard for anyone to miss him. He’s so fucking cocky. I can’t wait to knock that chip right off his fucking shoulder.

  That chance would come as if my wish was a command.

  “You don’t have anything to prove.”

  “I don’t back down from a good fight, babe. Anyway, I have everything to prove, and I intend to.”

  “Bracket Four report to the stage.” The announcer comes over the speakers, and says, “Up next, we’ve got our very own hometown hero, Jason Koster. Former quarterback for Freeland County High School . . . and Homecoming King.”

  I hear the laughter. A lame title is better than none, so what the fuck ever. A gentle squeeze to my bicep causes me to tighten it, and she gets the full strength of what lies under this T-shirt. Delilah’s lips are close to my ear as she stands behind me. “I should call you king,” she whispers seductively.

  The life I left behind comes racing back, and I duck my head. Squeezing my eyes, they aren’t bad memories on the whole, but some I’d like to forget forever . . .

  The nights are the worst. This penthouse is too high. Too secure. Too removed from reality. I’ve been a bodyguard. I know how to protect someone, how to risk my life for theirs for money.

  It’s different here.

  King and Cruise don’t know what to make of me, but they need me and know it. What started out as a job has become more. I care about these people, and Ali—I don’t let my mind go there.

  A job.

  That’s all this is, I tell myself, and attempt sleep again.

  When it doesn’t work, I get up and head down the hall. I click on the coffeemaker and start snacking on some Oreos left on the counter. Staring out through the large windows my head begins to clear as the sun rises. It’s always easier in the daytime to handle the dark crime I committed against another man, even if he did deserve it.

  My mom would be devastated by the choices I’ve made. I wonder what Delilah would think of me now?

  . . . Turning to my side, I say, “Nah, I don’t need the trouble that comes along with a name like that.”

  “Okay, Cuddle Bear.”

  Chuckling, I roll my eyes. “Shh. We’ll keep that one between us.” She slaps my ass as I walk to the podium.

  “Cole Cutler, owner of Cutler Cabling and former running back for Freeland County High School.”

  Cole shouts, “You forgot to add the one who got the girl.”

  I glance over my shoulder as he approaches. He’s such an asshole. I want to add, the one who lost the girl, but it’s best if I keep quiet. My shoulder is shoved and I turn, his throat in my hands within seconds. “Don’t fuck with me, Cutler, or you’ll get a repeat of what happened outside Red River.”

  “A bit touchy for a wife-stealing wife-fucker.”

  The announcer crouches down. “Gentlemen, save it for the shootin’ contest. You’ve got five targets ready to take these bullets of anger off your hands.”

  He’s right. Delilah deserves better from me. I find Delilah in the crowd, worry creasing her brow.

  When I turn back, I see that giant check for five hundred dollars hanging high above the announcer’s head. Cutler needs money, and he’s got the skills to win this. That is of course if I weren’t here to make sure he doesn’t. This should be fun.

  A case is presented to each of us. The rules state we don’t get to choose our weapon, much to my dismay. I hate revolvers, but that seems to be the choice for this contest. Even worse, Cutler gets an Uberti handgun. I get a Smith & Wesson .357 and shake my head. His is made for competition. My gun is made for collectors, not precise shooting. Fuck. I refuse to lose, but it may be harder to win with this weapon.

  I take the gun out of the case and check the chambers. Five bullets. Five targets. The fastest and most accurate moves to the final bracket. Four winners of their brackets will shoot to win. I have to take Cutler out first. We’re led to the line. Cutler wins a coin toss to see who goes first. I cross my arms and take a few steps back.

  He walks to the line and kicks up some dust. When he’s given the go ahead, he shoots. It’s an impressive showing for such an asshole. He used to kill every can with a BB gun when we took turns shooting. If he’d win one round, I’d win the next. We were always good at pushing each other.

  The paper targets are changed out and Cutler’s are brought to the judges on the podium.

  I’m told to step to the line. As soon as the signal is given, time stands still. The colors that once surrounded my target turn a gray gradient, allowing me to focus on the bullseye. My arm flies out steady, my elbow locked to absorb any recoil. My eyes narrow while lining up the sight with the dead center of my target.

  The first bullet flies from the chamber and I turn just enough to send the second toward its intended destination.

  Third.

  Fourth.

  Fifth.

  My arm lowers as the gray fades away and the sound of the crowd behind me returns. But the sound is muted, not like the talkative noise and chatter from before. I look behind me and am greeted with silence. The rowdy rodeo goers are staring—some with their mouths open, some closed but with wide eyes, and some sport both. I see the rise and fall of Delilah’s chest, her eyes meeting mine. Barging through the gawkers, she comes toward me. “Jason?”

  “What?” I ask, not sure if she’s okay or if I’m in trouble.

  “That was the sexiest thing I think I’ve ever witnessed,” she whispers.

  “My shooting?”

  “Yes, your shooting.” The exposed top of her chest is flushed. “Holy damn. I see now.”

  “What? What do you see?”

  A sexy grin slips onto her lips. “I see why you were so good at your job.”

  “Former job.”

  “Whatever. Do you want to leave early?”

  Now I smirk, amused. “You turned on, baby?”

  “So much.”

  “I was just messi
ng around out there.” I try to see my targets, pretending I don’t know that I hit the center of the bullseye. Every. Time. “We used to shoot BB guns for fun. You remember.”

  “That wasn’t messing around, Jason. What you did was pure skill.” We walk to the podium to return the gun, but she continues, “Your face. I’ve never seen you look like that.”

  “I wake up every day with the same ugly mug. Nothing to see here.” I try to distract her by making a big deal about putting the gun back in the case.

  It doesn’t work because she’s still staring at me. As soon as the case closes, her hand covers my forearm, and I look at her. She says, “I want you so badly right now.”

  “I would have shown you what I can do with a gun sooner if I would have known how turned on you are by it.”

  The announcer interrupts our foreplay, “Wooooweeee. Holy cow! Would you look at them targets! Our hometown hero just might maintain that status. You’ve been cut, Cutler.” A snicker echoes across the range, causing the crowd to join in at Cutler’s expense.

  “You fucking rigged it, Koster,” he shouts. I turn around, and he charges, sending me landing hard on the ground. Shit. He swings, but I flip him to the side with a good shove to his chest and knee to his groin. I’m on my knees and get a solid punch in before I’m grabbed and yanked backward by two dudes the size of the Hulk. He has one guy who’s been drinking too much to hold him back. Fucker hits me with an uppercut before I can free my arms and fight back.

  I land heavily on top of him. Two punches and the sad sap is groaning in pain and hiding his face like he’s a kid getting picked on at the playground. Security is there, and I’m pulled away again. “I already stopped.”

  Jeffrey Whaley, our town deputy, cuts through the crowd. “Why am I not surprised it’s the two of you fightin’ again?”

  “Because Cutler can’t seem to keep his insecurities under wraps.”

  Whaley grabs me by the elbow and the twin Hulks back away. “Come with me, Koster.”

  “What the hell? He fucking started it.”