Gideon, Robin - Ecstasy in Elk's Crossing (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Robin Gideon

“I know you’re not happy about it, but I can’t put out an arrest warrant on someone who, as near as we can tell, has not done one criminal thing wrong.” The sheriff put his hand on Aaron’s shoulder. “I think he’s guilty of something. I don’t know what, but he didn’t just make a wrong turn and suddenly find himself in Elk’s Crossing. Would you mind doing me a favor by keeping an eye on Katie? I’m sure it’s putting your house out a bit by having a female suddenly living there, but I’d feel a lot better knowing that the McGowans were keeping an eye on her.”

  “Sure thing,” Aaron replied. “It’s the least I can do for some young woman with a deranged ex-boyfriend trying to kill her. You can count on my brothers and me keeping a careful eye on Katie.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that,” the sheriff said then turned and headed for his squad car.

  Aaron got in his pickup truck and drove back to the ranch. When he got there he found that the doctor was just finishing his examination of Garrett’s shoulder.

  “Working on young men makes a doctor look like a genius,” the doctor said to Aaron as he put the last strip of white tape on Garrett’s bandage. “Young men like Garrett heal incredibly fast. I don’t want him exerting himself just yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if within two or three weeks he’s back to nearly one-hundred percent.”

  “There won’t be any permanent damage?” Aaron asked.

  The doctor shook his head. “It was a small bullet, and I’m sure it hurt like the dickens when it ripped up muscle, but muscle and tissue damage are rarely permanent, and certainly not in this case. Just don’t overdo it right away. There are stitches inside that will dissolve and stitches in the skin that I’ll remove in a couple days. But I don’t want him exerting himself and then ripping out the stitches.”

  “I’ll make sure he follows doctor’s orders,” Katie said.

  The doctor smiled at her. “It’s nice to know he’s got such a dedicated nurse. Now if you’ll all excuse me, I have to get back to my clinic.”

  * * * *

  As far as guest bedrooms went, it was nice enough, David decided. Of course, he shouldn’t have to be in a guest bedroom. He should be in the master bedroom with some good-looking babe next to him. And he would be in a master bedroom…if it hadn’t been for Katie. She was the sole source of his fall from grace.

  And for that, she would have to pay her dues. The world was an unjust place as long as she remained unscathed by her betrayal of him.

  During his brief time back in San Francisco, David had acted quickly. He’d borrowed money from four different friends. They didn’t want to loan him a penny, but he’d reminded them of all the times that he’d supplied the cocaine during parties, and only then did they come across with cash. It wasn’t as much as he’d wanted, of course, but at least it was something. David liked to think of it as “working capital.”

  Brooding, he stared at the ceiling, asking himself over and over again just how long it would be before he could look into Katie’s eyes and close the books on her treachery, on her deception, and on her dishonesty and cruelty. Every day she lived was a day she didn’t deserve to have. Every time she laughed, her happiness was an act of theft against karma. Pain, suffering, and abject humiliation were the only emotions, the only sensations, she should be allowed to experience.

  And then David asked himself, why wait? Why wait for some later time to set things straight?

  He felt the awareness that he was going to take a human life in the pit of his stomach. He was going to do it personally, with his own hands, and when he was finished he would know that he had done a good and just thing for this world.

  There was no better time than the present.

  His friend—the owner of the house in the hills of San Francisco that had deigned to let him have the guest bedroom “for a few days, but no more than that”—was an asshole, and David knew it. What kind of friend would set a time limit on his gratitude when he has a friend in need? An asshole, that’s what kind of friend!

  A smile started to curl David’s mouth. His friend was an asshole, all right, but he was an asshole who left his car keys on a hook near the front door.

  Sitting upright in the bed, David twisted until his feet were flat on the floor. Was this the right time to make his move? The question taunted him. He didn’t want to act rashly, but he didn’t want to not take action should this be his moment.

  Closing his eyes, David looked inside himself. Was this the right time?

  He waited for the answer. After several seconds, very distinctly, he heard a voice say inside his head, “Yes! Yes! Yes! Go after that bitch now!”

  He got to his feet, and when he moved toward the closet where his new clothes were hanging and the used suitcase was, he was careful to remain as quiet as possible. Pausing, he glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. The red numerals told him it was twelve minutes after two o’clock in the morning. His friend would be sound asleep, and had been for at least two hours.

  Perfect. Everything was falling into place. David knew it wasn’t just luck. It was karma. He was on a mission to make the world a better place and see to it that a traitorous bitch didn’t fuck over anyone else ever again. Soon, he would see that karma was adjusted properly.

  He put his clothes into the suitcase. They weren’t designer-name clothes, but they were clean and new. The suitcase was used, having been purchased at a thrift store, but that was all right. David knew that a lot of rich people who traveled a lot had luggage that showed all the miles their owner had taken them. Used luggage just proves you’ve got the wherewithal to travel all over the world, right?

  He was down the stairs, taking them one careful step at a time. Though the streetlight coming through the living room windows was dim, David could see that the cocaine was still out on the mirror on the coffee table in the living room. Using the razor blade, he chopped up two lines then snorted them with the glass tube that he’d used the previous evening. Instantly, he was wide awake, and his thinking was clearer and more rational than ever. David was certain his brain had never been so clear, so purposeful. And now he had enough energy to drive hours and hours and hours. With enough cocaine, he’d never, ever feel tired again. And he’d never be depressed. And he’d never doubt that he was doing the right thing. Cocaine took away doubts. That was another thing that David was certain of.

  He carefully rolled up the plastic baggie with the remaining cocaine in it and shoved that into his pocket. Next, he went to the kitchen and, just as he knew he would, found the car keys to the shiny new Lexus hanging on the hook. From the utility drawer in the kitchen near the sink, he found a Phillips screwdriver. Lastly, from a solid woodblock containing many knives with many different functions, he took out a large-bladed knife.

  It would be the knife that would draw Katie’s blood and set his soul free. The knife would put him back on the road to riches.

  The air was cool, and he could smell the saltwater on the evening breeze. A good night, he decided, to head back to Elk’s Crossing and put his life back to rights.

  He drove his old car two blocks, found a parking place, and then removed the license plates. He walked back to his friend’s Lexus and had the license plates changed in only a matter of minutes.

  When he put the key in the ignition and turned it, the engine purred immediately to life. For a moment David just looked around himself at the interior of the car. Everything was new. The instrument panel informed him of engine temperature, coolant temperature, gas levels—positively everything. He saw that the gas tank was very nearly full.

  “That was damned nice of you to fill this for me,” David said to his sleeping friend as he put the transmission in reverse and pulled quietly out of the parking spot, the finely tuned engine hardly making a whisper.

  * * * *

  It was a gorgeous, sunny afternoon, and the Mountain View Saloon was packed to the rafters with customers, all of them happy to partake of Katie’s cooking and companionship. Katie was moving here, there, and
everywhere, trying to see to it that all her customers were satisfied. She was way too busy and couldn’t have been happier if she tried.

  “I’ve got some friends who will show up in a day or two,” Katie said to the sheriff and to Aaron. “They’ll be able to help me during the busy times, so I won’t have to do everything myself.”

  “Won’t that be putting them in harm’s way?” Aaron asked.

  “David’s gone, and he’s going to stay gone,” Katie replied, confident in her assessment of the man she once loved and now loathed. “He’s a bastard. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going soft on the guy. But I think he realizes he’s crossed a bunch of lines he’s never crossed before, and he’s probably going to get away with it. But if he comes back and tries something more, something else against me, his odds of succeeding are drastically diminished, and the odds that he’ll spend serious time in prison are enhanced. The guy’s a cretin, but he’s not stupid. I’m on to him, and he knows it. My guess is he’s back in San Francisco mooching off his friends and cursing me for all his lousy luck.”

  “I wish I could be so confident that he will stay away,” Aaron said, sipping his after-meal coffee. He turned to the sheriff. “Are you sure there’s nothing the law can do about him?”

  “He’s on parole, and as long as he stays in the area where he’s under court supervision, then he’s fulfilling the terms of his parole. I’ll call San Francisco and ask them to keep an eye on him, but that’s nothing they wouldn’t do anyway.” He sighed and tilted his sheriff’s hat back a little on his head. “Trust me, I’d love to slap the handcuffs on him, but for now, I’ve got no just cause to do that.”

  Katie was thoroughly and completely tired of talking about David. He had done his damage, and now he was gone, and that was that as far as she was concerned. She was surrounded by her McGowan men. They loved her, and she loved all four of them. Whatever problems she had would be concerned with her being in a love relationship simultaneously with four brothers. David was now out of her life forever.

  The noon crowd began filing out, but Aaron stayed at the bar, sipping his coffee.

  “Go on now,” Katie said to him. “You’ve got work that needs to be done, and I’ve got work to do around here. You think the supper rush just happens smoothly without me preparing for it?”

  “Maybe I should leave Garrett here to keep an eye on you? He’s still got a wounded wing that keeps him from working one hundred percent.”

  Katie shook her head emphatically. “No, that’s not necessary.” She placed her hand over his on the bar and gave it an affectionate squeeze. “Tonight, when I get home after the evening rush, how about we have a party? A quiet, private McGowan-brother party.”

  “With you as the main attraction?”

  “The center of attention,” Katie said, keeping her voice low because there were still a few customers in the saloon other than the McGowans. “Think of me as an entertainment committee of one.”

  Katie saw the lusty fire come to life in her lover’s eyes and knew in her heart she was in for a rollicking good time when she finally arrived at the Circle-Square-Circle Ranch that evening. How would they want her tonight? Who would want what? Their endless permutations and seemingly limitless sexual creativity made each night of ménage loving a new lesson in the possibilities of pleasure.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Sure you don’t want to play?” Garrett asked, extending the hand unit of a video game toward Aaron.

  “Thanks, but I just cracked a fresh one,” Aaron replied then took a long swig of cold beer to add emphasis to claim. “Besides, you kick my ass at that game every time.”

  “That’s why I like playing against you.”

  Aaron chuckled and took another drink of beer, turning away from his brothers. It was late, and soon Katie would be finished with her night shift at the Mountain View Saloon. Then she’d hurry to the Circle-Square-Circle Ranch, where he and his brothers would prove to her, in words and deeds, just how much they were all in love with her.

  Thoughts of making love with Katie brought a smile to Aaron’s lips, but it didn’t last long. He couldn’t be away from her company without thinking about the man who hated her, and who was still on the loose. David was unfinished business, and Aaron had been working for himself too long—his whole life, in fact—to be satisfied when there was unfinished business.

  He walked over to the high windows facing the east. The sun had long since set, and it was very dark outside, the moon hardly more than a sliver. The trees along the eastern windbreak seemed to be flickering a pale, almost pinkish color. Aaron studied the trees a moment, wondering what was causing the color change. There wasn’t enough moonlight for the leaves to be reflecting that.

  Behind him in the room, some action on the video monitor caused his brothers to all shout in unison. Blair called out, wanting Aaron’s opinion on a contentious call. With a wave of his hand, Aaron dismissed himself and walked stocking-footed to the front door, his stomach suddenly turning a little, the beer no longer tasting fresh and clean in his mouth.

  He set the beer bottle down on the dining room table, and, with each step he took, the sense of unease became stronger.

  The front door wasn’t open an inch before he caught the scent of smoke on the breeze. When he opened the door wide, he saw that the barn was already well ablaze, with flames within the barn casting their colors red and gold against the windows.

  “Boys! The barn’s on fire!” Aaron shouted. “Garrett, you call the fire department. The rest of you, come with me!”

  As he pulled on his boots, Aaron was already doing a quick mental calculation of the contents of the barn, the livestock that would be lost, and what machinery would be destroyed. How much of the loss would insurance cover? He thought, too, of the volunteer firefighters who would come to help. If the fire had been at a different ranch, Aaron and his brothers, who were all volunteers for the Elk’s Crossing Fire Department, would be racing into town at that moment.

  He started running, his long legs eating up the ground as he approached the barn. The fire had started inside the barn and had not yet made it through the windows or up to the hayloft on the second story.

  How long until the fire department arrived with the old red truck, with the long hoses and the enormous water tank that had saved so many buildings in the territory over the years?

  He almost ran to the enormous sliding doors on the end of the barn, but his better judgment told him to go to the much smaller side door. A fire needs oxygen, and opening the wide sliding doors would only make matters worse.

  He looked into the interior of the barn from the window near the side door, and his stomach clenched. Three of the four pens were ablaze, as was the bin for the oats. The pens were empty, and he breathed a sigh of relief, only now remembering that the calves that had been in the pens had been released into the pasture just that morning.

  Aaron was no expert on fires, but it didn’t take a lot of experience to understand that, barring some assistance, a fire didn’t “accidentally” start simultaneously at four or five different places inside a barn.

  “How bad is it?” Blair asked, coming up fast from behind.

  “We’ve lost it,” Aaron said, watching as the flames curled up along an interior wall then slid sideways along the ceiling. The old wood accepted the flames with resignation, as an old man might accept death after a long, happy life. “Don’t open the doors. Let’s wait until the fire truck gets here. All we can do is make sure we don’t lose any of the other buildings. Maybe we can save...”

  His words drifted off. The ranch was too far out in the country, and the fire had been started at too many different places in the old barn, for the destruction to not be complete. He could feel the heat now radiating through the window.

  * * * *

  David decided he liked the smell of gasoline. What had that line been in Apocalypse Now? The one Robert Duvall used? “I love the smell of napalm in the morning. It smells like…victory!”


  Fuckin’ A right, it smells like victory!

  He had been on a losing streak. David would admit to that, but only now that the losing streak was behind him. And he’d known the losing was behind him when he’d slipped secretly into the barn, splashed gasoline around, and then watched as the place so quickly and easily went ablaze. He didn’t stick around long—maybe thirty seconds after dropping the match into the gasoline-soaked hay—but it was long enough to feel the heat of the fire against his face and watch as the fire grew into a conflagration in very, very little time.

  He flexed his fingers around the steering wheel of the Lexus. He’d have to get rid of it pretty soon, even if it did have completely new license plates on it that he’d stolen from a car in the parking lot of a truck stop in northern California.

  Ahead of him, perhaps a mile or more away, he saw the red flashing emergency lights on an oncoming vehicle. The swirling red light cut an ominous streak through the ebony darkness of a night in deep country.

  He felt his heart accelerate, and he told himself to remain calm. He was on a winning streak now. That was undeniable. All the proof he needed was to smell the gasoline can on the floor of the front seat of the Lexus and remember how beautiful it had been to watch and smell the barn take to the flames so quickly, almost greedily, as though welcoming its own destruction.

  A few seconds later, driving in the opposite direction of David’s Lexus, roared the single truck belonging to the Elk’s Crossing Fire Department. The fire engine was headed, hell bent for leather, in the direction of the Circle-Square-Circle Ranch.

  Too late, you dumb fucking cowboys! By now the barn’s so far gone it would take an ocean of water to put the fire out.

  More proof, David decided, that he was on a winning streak. Perhaps this was the winning streak that would put him back on top, with a corner office on one of the upper floors that had a view of San Francisco harbor and Fisherman’s Wharf.