by Honor James
Montana Wranglers 2
Protecting Bethany
Her life is a wreck, but Bethany Hanson has a plan and so far it’s working. But when the oldest Graymont brother comes home to the ranch, things start to unravel for her. Not a bad thing, especially when she finally admits to how she feels, for both brothers.
Connor and Brendan Graymont have ranching in their blood. While Connor made the ranch his career, Brendan followed his love of the law to a different path and a career putting the bad guys behind bars. But there really is no place like home. With vacation time at hand, Brendan comes back to where his heart has always been and finds even more than he expected.
With Connor and Brendan at her side, Bethany can close off one chapter of her life and start a fresh one with the men she loves. A rancher’s life is never easy, but when you have the best partners around anything and everything is possible.
Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys
Length: 46,245 words
PROTECTING BETHANY
Montana Wranglers 2
Honor James
MENAGE EVERLASTING
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting
PROTECTING BETHANY
Copyright © 2014 by Honor James
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62741-893-5
First E-book Publication: November 2014
Cover design by Harris Channing
All art and logo copyright © 2014 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
To all of my readers, fans and members of my reader group you are all amazing and I thank you all.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About the Author
PROTECTING BETHANY
Montana Wranglers 2
HONOR JAMES
Copyright © 2014
Prologue
The judge walked into the courtroom and sat down, the rest of the courtroom occupants sitting a moment later. “Counselors,” he said after a few minutes. The defense and prosecuting attorney both stood, doing up their jackets as they did so. “Are you both prepared to make closing statements at this time?”
The defense attorney nodded. “We are, Your Honor.”
Eyeing up the other lawyer Brendan nodded toward the judge. “We are, Your Honor,” he said firmly. He was more than ready to send the scumbag to jail for the rest of his life.
“All right.” The judge scribbled something down. “You’re up, Mr. Paulson,” he said to the defendant’s attorney.
Brendan sat back down, undoing the single button on his suit jacket, and settled back. Brad Paulson was a long-winded battle-ax, and his closing statement could take a while. He was also all about the show, building the tension and then guiding the jury to what they should see according to his point of view.
Which, really, was what every councilor did in the courtroom. It was a big showroom to make their case. Only Brad Paulson was on very, very shaky footing and he knew it. The jury didn’t like him. At all.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I won’t take up too much of your time, we’ve wasted more than enough of that already,” Brad began. Well, hell, that was new. Brendan shifted in his seat slightly with a small frown and shot his co-counsel a look. What was Brad’s game?
Brad stopped before the jury box and put his hands in his pockets, trying to look humble, Brendan realized. “My client made an error, while under threat for his life and the lives of those he loves. Yes, he knew it was a mistake but, ask yourself this. What would you do when you had someone counting on you to protect them in this same sort of situation?”
He looked at each of the jury members. “He made a call, a choice, the wrong one, absolutely. But it was still a choice made under duress during a very stressful situation by men who could well carry out the threats as they spoke of to my client. Now, opposing counsel will tell you that my client is a bad man, that he willingly and knowingly did these deeds without a care for what this would do to anyone around him. I ask you to consider that, just perhaps, as you heard him testify, he did know that his actions could result in harm to others but was more fearful for those he calls family.”
Brad let out a dramatic sigh, there it was, the showman showing through finally. “We’ve all made bad choices in life, it’s how we learn. Oh, not nearly as bad as what my client was forced into choosing to do or not do at the threat of bodily harm to his loved ones. But we’ve all made a choice, at some time in our lives, that had we chosen different may very well have altered our paths. You cannot blame a man for protecting the only family he loves from harm. You cannot possibly blame a man for doing what he thought, in that moment of time he was given, was right. You cannot fault my client for being merely human.”
/> He stepped closer to the jury box. “Put yourself in his shoes. You have two minutes to decide whether you watch those you love, your wife, your husband, your child, your sibling, your parent, die or do what someone tells you to do. Would you choose to stand by the law we all live by day in and day out and watch one or more of them die? How would you have chosen if you’d been there instead?” He stepped back and bowed slightly to them. “Thank you.”
Watching Brad go back to his seat Brendan had to wonder, just what the ploy was here. That had been an interesting closing statement, to be sure, but not the best he’d ever heard out of Brad Paulson, and definitely not the most compelling. Shooting a look to the jury he saw a few frowning. Uh-oh, they were thinking on his words. Bad, bad, bad.
“Mr. Graymont, you’re up,” the judge said, bringing him back to the moment.
Standing, he buttoned his jacket and walked around the table to lean a hip to the front. “Thank you, Your Honor. Members of the jury, my opposing counsel was right about one thing, we have taken up too much of your time, so I’ll keep this short.”
Rubbing a hand over his face he looked to the ceiling for a moment. “We need to remember the facts, which are all that we can really do in this situation.” He pushed off the table and looked to them. “Not a one of us was there when this supposed coercion took place. Not a one of us was there to hear these supposed threats. That is hearsay. What we have to look at are the facts as presented during this trial.”
He stepped closer to the jury box and looked at them all, one at a time as he began listing off the facts of the case. “Trevor Finch knowingly consorted with a criminal element. Trevor Finch knowingly and, of his own free will, took a job at the Graymont Ranch to become an informant. Trevor Finch willingly made a phone call to the alleged mobster Mr. Antonio Trevino, a number that even the FBI hadn’t known about. Trevor Finch willingly kidnapped Ms. Graymont with the intent to hand her over to Mr. Antonio Trevino and his associates. Trevor Finch willingly shot a man, Mr. Blake Jacobson, when Mr. Jacobson attempted to assist Ms. Graymont. Trevor Finch willingly hit Ms. Graymont in an attempt to render her unconscious and, as we heard from the doctors, caused significant damage to her head and caused a concussion.”
He let that sink in for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. He needed to give the jury a moment to consider all he’d just drilled into them, too much and they’d think he was a hard-ass out to fry Finch. He was, but not for the reasons they thought.
“Was Mr. Trevor Finch, the defendant, coerced by Mr. Antonio Trevino?” He shrugged, his tone softer. “Perhaps. Was he threatened? Maybe. But we have no proof of either of these being true so they cannot be considered. All you have to consider is the evidence of the trial, the hard, factual and firm truth. Mr. Trevor Finch is guilty on all accounts of abduction, intent to harm and willing participation and collusion with an alleged mobster.”
Stepping back he looked at them one at a time, slowly. Then he nodded and tipped his head to them. “Thank you,” he said quietly. Going back to his chair he sat down without looking to his sister. He’d face her after this was all over, until then, he had to be strong and keep his head in this fucking gong show.
“Anything else to add?” the judge asked. Getting negatives from both sides, he looked to the jury. “You’ve been given your instructions and you know what you must do. Bailiff, escort the members of the jury out so they may deliberate.” The judge cracked his gavel on the desk. “Court is dismissed until the jury reaches a verdict.”
“All rise!” a bailiff called out.
The shuffle of everyone getting to their feet was loud. There were a lot of people in the courtroom, more than could sit down, many standing around at the back. Once the judge left the courtroom the doors were opened at the back and people began filing out.
Shooting a look to the now-closed door where the jury had gone, Brendan could only hope it was a fast decision and they came back with guilty across the board. Trevor Finch deserved to fry for what he’d put his sister through, but this wasn’t a death row case, unfortunately. All that Brendan could hope for was life in prison, no chance of parole. Then, and only then, would he breathe a sigh of true relief and face his baby sister eye to eye.
Chapter One
A month later…
Stepping out of his truck onto the land he’d been raised on, Brendan felt the rest of his tension ease away. He’d been back to the ranch often, but this was the first time he’d be there for more than a couple days here and there or a long weekend. He’d actually taken some time off, well deserved time off actually.
Trevor Finch had gotten a guilty verdict across the board and was tossed into prison for the rest of his natural life. No chance of parole, no way to make an appeal, and even if he did decide to turn informant on Trevino, all it would likely get him was a shiv to the gut. Couldn’t happen to a nicer fucking asshole.
Shutting the door he stuck the Stetson on his head to shade his eyes and lifted a hand when he caught sight of a familiar face. Corbin Franks, one of his sister’s lovers, waved back with a big-ass grin. Brendan didn’t see Blake anywhere, but the new ranch manager would be there somewhere.
Heading into the main house he went to find his dad, nodding to the new housekeeper as she peeked out to see who was coming in the front door. Only family ever came that way, all the hands would come into the kitchen as they weren’t permitted anywhere else in the house. He’d have to ask his dad what her name was again, he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember which is bad for the guy who never forgot a name.
Of course, he usually went a little numb in the brain when he was near her and could barely remember his own name.
Knocking on his dad’s door he grinned at the shocked look he got. Stepping in he hugged his father and took the back-slapping. “Easy, Dad, that gets a little hard to take after about the tenth one.” He laughed out his protest.
“Getting soft working up in the city,” Daniel Graymont said, grinning right back at him. “Damn it’s good to see you, son. Good job locking that slimy son of a bitch up for the rest of time,” he said as they took seats.
“The law locked him up. I just did my job and made sure that the jury knew the facts,” he said with a shrug.
“Should’ve just shot the bastard,” Daniel muttered.
Rolling his eyes Brendan chuckled softly. “Well, you didn’t shoot him, so suck it up, old man,” he teased. “Justice was served and everyone can breathe a little easier. How’s Patty doing?” he asked.
“Good, big as a house to hear her tell it.” Daniel grinned. The old man was beaming, thrilled about the impending arrival of grandchild number one and had, according to his sister, gone off the deep end when it came to buying things for the baby.
“I seriously doubt she is, but all pregnant women seem to feel that way toward the end of the pregnancy.” And Patty was close, as in any day close now. The betting pool was huge right then, the entire town and several surrounding ranches in on it, to see when the kid popped out.
“Very true, very true. Your mother was like that with all three of you,” Daniel said softly, a smile on his face. “Damned hard to convince that woman I still loved her when she was a hormonal tidal wave all day long, especially at the end. The number of bedside clocks we went through, we should have been getting a discount,” he muttered.
Grinning at that Brendan snickered. His mother had told them all the stories about the bedside clocks. Pretty much the only thing she’d had at hand to throw at their father during the last month of her pregnancies when he’d annoyed her in the early morning hours. She’d chuck it at his head whenever he tried to convince her she was beautiful and he still loved her, and then burst into tears for a good ten to twenty minutes before calming right down.
His dad had always said that if a marriage could survive the last month of a pregnancy, then it could survive anything else. That there was nothing scarier than a woman being bombarded by hormones, aching everywhere and carrying around a
large bowling ball in front of her day in and day out.
“Why don’t you go and find Connor?” his father suggested.
Thinking of his brother he nodded and got up from his chair. “I’ll dump my bag in my room and then hunt him down. Any clue where he is?”
“I think he was out with the herd out to the east, check with Corbin though, he’ll know for sure.” Daniel got up and they hugged again. “Good to have you back, even if it’s only for a couple months.”
“Thanks, Dad.” He smiled. Grabbing up the bag he’d dropped when his father had first grabbed him when he’d entered, he went to deposit it in his childhood bedroom.
* * * *
“Fuck it’s hot out here,” one of the hands muttered, wiping at sweat on his brow before settling his hat back on over his head.
“Not really,” Connor said with a grin. “But it will be soon enough.” He turned his horse slightly to keep an eye on the other two newer hands that were working through the herd. They were looking for any sickly or injured animals so they could be culled and attended to. But they had to go easy and slow, since spooking a herd of nearly two hundred head of cattle was asking to have your ass handed to you.
“Rider coming in,” the hand said. Greg, yeah, Greg was his name. The other two were, shit. Don and…Don and, he wanted to say Mike, yeah, he was pretty sure it was Mike.
Lifting a hand to shade his eyes he smiled when he saw the horse, Cornelius. Only two people could ride that snarly-ass stallion, himself and his brother. And since he was sitting on Pattycake, yes a side joke about their sister’s name, he knew who was coming out. “Be back in a second,” he said.