by Lexi Blake
If she couldn’t admit it to her friend, how would she talk to the sheriff? She was here in Bliss because Nate Wright would be infinitely easier to talk to than any of the other law enforcement officers. Wright was an oddball, a former DEA agent who’d moved to tiny Bliss and married a local sweetheart of a woman. And like many of the men of Bliss, he hadn’t married her alone. Bliss was what many people called a town of great tolerance. And what many more people called plain crazy. The fact that the sheriff had a wife he shared with the local bar owner, Zane Hollister, didn’t bother her at all. She kind of always wanted to high-five Callie Hollister-Wright for roping in such gorgeous men.
Was she really going to allow her anger at herself to hold her back?
“Matt opened a credit card in my name. I thought it would be over, but he spent five grand and basically sent me the bill.” She’d been foolish, and it had bitten her in the ass again and again. She had to stop the bleed. “Before he’d only stolen money, not my identity. If I let him, he’ll ruin my credit, and I’m kind of running on that right now.”
“I’ve got a little saved up. I know Ty does, too. He doesn’t need a place of his own. He sleeps with a new woman every night to cut down on rent and food,” she joked, although with Ty it was kind of true. He was known as the manwhore of the county. “Let us help you. I heard the woman who runs the sheriff’s office is also an attorney. She could give you some advice. I’ll float you the cash to buy a couple of hours of her time.”
That was sweet of her, but it wasn’t necessary. “I have some. I was careful with the money we had left. I have enough to live meagerly on until the cabin sells.” She held up a hand because she’d known this argument was coming. “I know what I’m doing. I’m going to sell and use the cash to rebuild the business. I want us ready for summer tourists next year. I want to start up the rafting tours again and then cross-country skiing tours.”
All she needed was one good season and she’d be able to grow. The business. That’s what she’d concentrate on. She wasn’t going to let Matt fucking Lewis beat her. It was time to take the steps to prove she wasn’t defeated.
It was time to convince herself she wasn’t so broken she couldn’t put herself back together.
“I like the look on your face. You look fierce right now,” Heather said. “Are we going in?”
She nodded and started to walk toward that station house. It was easier with Heather by her side. She’d pushed everyone away for the last year and a half. She’d taken all the burden on herself when she didn’t have to. Maybe it was also time to lean on her friends.
“And when we’re done making Matt Lewis’s life a complete hell, we can head to Trio and get drunk off our asses and find a hot tourist and get laid. Separately, of course. Normally I wouldn’t have to add in that disclaimer, but there’s a lot of sharing going on around here. It’s a weird town. I kind of love it.” Heather turned her face up to the sun as she walked along.
“I’m not sure about that. The part about getting laid. Bliss is absolutely weird.” Getting laid was the last thing she needed. Wasn’t it? God, she hadn’t had sex in over two years. Her body had been nothing but a machine to perform duties, a robotic tool that didn’t feel anything but numb.
“Come on,” Heather urged. “I’m buying, boss. And I’ll totally vet all the guys who hit on you. The chance of us getting lucky has gone through the roof since this morning. I heard a rumor that there’s a film crew in town, and they’re all gorgeous. According to what I heard this morning at Stella’s, they got in last night and they’re staying at that mansion cabin on the river. The one the billionaire guy owns. I can’t remember his name.”
“Seth Stark. He built it recently, but he spends most of his time in New York with his wife and partner.” So much sharing. A film crew? She wasn’t sure she was ready for that, but perhaps it was time to open herself up at least to the people around her. “Maybe one drink.”
Heather smiled and she could swear the man walking past them tripped as he looked at her. Not that she noticed. “Excellent. We’ll deal with Asshole Matt and then party.”
In front of them, the door to the station house opened and a truly lovely man stepped out. Six foot plus, broad shoulders, and long lines. He wore a T-shirt that covered his big muscular chest and jeans that showed some mileage. She glanced down at his feet. She could tell a lot about a man by his shoes. Cowboy boots. Worn and likely comfortable. He was a man who worked.
He held a hand out to Nate Wright.
“Wow. Do you think he’s part of the film crew?” Because if the rest of them looked like him, every woman in the county would be panting after them.
Heather stopped and suddenly opened her bag. “Damn it. I left my wallet. I’ll be right back.”
Heather turned and jogged back toward the Trading Post, leaving her standing there alone.
Nate glanced over and nodded her way. “How are you doing today, River? I was just talking about you to our new friend here. He’s with a film crew. They need a guide to do some shots out near the Needle.”
That was interesting. The Crestone Needle was considered one of the hardest climbs in Colorado. “Are you working on a mountaineering doc? I’m sorry. I didn’t introduce myself. River Lee. I own Mountain Adventures.”
The gorgeous man’s eyes were covered by mirrored aviators, but she still could sense a grimness about him. He shook her hand. “Ezra Fain. Good to meet you. Wright here speaks highly of you. And the nature of our film is…well, let’s say I can’t talk about it until the producers agree to hire you. We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning. We’ll be going over a list of guides that might be able to handle us.”
Yeah, that didn’t sound like she was heavily in the running, but then she was small-time now. They would likely go with one of the big operations, and she couldn’t blame them. “I hope you find a good one.”
“Nice to meet you.” Fain tipped his head and started to walk toward a big Jeep.
She looked up at the sheriff, surprised at how her hands were shaking. This was it. She had to tell him.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Nate asked, his eyes softening.
She wasn’t going to lose it. God, now that she was standing here, she wondered why she hadn’t asked for help in the first place. Was she as controlling as Heather accused her of being? Had she gone so far into her shell that this small piece of daylight was causing her to shake?
There was only one way to find out.
“I screwed up, Nate. I screwed up and now he’s making me pay.”
The sheriff put a hand on her shoulder, his voice low and gruff. He started to lead her into the station house. “Is this about your ex-husband?”
She had to tell him everything. “I don’t think we were legally married. He lied about his name. He lied about everything. He took all my money. Almost everything I had, and now he’s still trying to con me.”
Nate nodded slowly and turned to the blonde who sat at the desk in the middle of the big room. “Come on into my office. Gemma, we’re going to need you.”
She followed the sheriff inside and for the first time felt like it might, just might be okay.
Chapter Two
Jax stared overhead at the neon sign. Trio. That was a word that meant three. He was going to have at least three beers. Three beers in an actual bar with people who he didn’t live with or who had been carefully vetted.
Women. There were women in there. Women who weren’t married to members of McKay-Taggart and Knight. Women who might be looking for a man. He made the decisions tonight. He wasn’t locked in a room trying to prove he wasn’t going to go insane. Tonight he was just a man. He could pretend he was a normal guy.
A normal, spectacularly horny guy.
Tucker stepped up next to him, looking up at the bright light. “There are women in there.”
Tucker was apparently horny, too.
“Yes, there are.” Women who had no idea what a fucking freak he was. Women who might believ
e he was a regular guy.
Tucker leaned over. “How do we decide who gets the woman? Rock, paper, scissors?”
He would pick the one he wanted, toss her over his shoulder, and run away with her. That was the instinct humming through his system. Shit. He remembered what Ariel had told him. His caveman self was wrong. He had to find a modern-man self, and that meant consent. He was supposed to get lots and lots of consent. “I guess we let her choose.”
“I think we’re supposed to do that.” Tucker’s lips had kicked up in a grin. He nodded toward the entrance as two large men holding hands with a petite woman led her inside. “Maybe we don’t have to choose. I overheard that Henry dude saying something about how everyone here is in a ménage. Except for him. And some rich guy. I think the others don’t have enough money to keep a woman on their own.”
Tucker hadn’t been listening to Ariel. “A woman can keep herself. She’s not property. We’re not supposed to be overly possessive. We’re supposed to be nice and polite and sexually generous.”
He could handle the sexually generous part. It was the other two he struggled with. He could be dangerously possessive. Not about material goods. He could give up possessions easily. People he cared about were a totally different thing.
Tucker frowned his way. “Your sessions with Ariel are nothing like mine.”
He talked a lot to the therapist about women. It went beyond horny though. He felt like something was missing. Something beyond his memory. He felt disconnected. He would give a lot to feel like he belonged somewhere, somewhere other than his sad-sack band of brothers. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. It was simply that when he was with them, he had to think about what had happened. The tragedy of losing their memories, of being molded by a mad doctor couldn’t be dismissed when he was stuck in a room with his brothers. He wanted to figure out who he was without the grim reality of his life hanging over his head.
And he wanted to have sex with a real woman and not his hand.
“Don’t do anything stupid.”
There was one thing keeping him from marching into that bar and throwing down with the first woman to consent to throw down with him. Ian Taggart was blocking the door.
“You said we could go out tonight.” If Taggart took this away from him, he wasn’t sure what he would do. He’d been stuck in that house all day and this was the first deep breath he’d taken. He’d walked out on the porch and been surrounded by trees and clouds and rushing water. He couldn’t go back inside. Not tonight.
Taggart crossed his arms over his chest. “And you can. You and Tucker have the night off. I argued against the two of you in particular because it’s like asking the blind to lead the insane, but Ezra put you two together. Robert and Owen are researching the site with Henry. Dante and Sasha are taking watch this evening. Don’t waste your night off. Hopefully we’ll find our guide in a couple of days and then we have to work. I know you’ve been cooped up, but you have to think about every single thing you do out here in the real world.”
Something eased inside Jax. He knew it was only a bar and he’d been to the bar at The Garden, but he felt compelled to go inside, to be out on his own.
To meet someone who didn’t look at him with sympathy or pure terror.
Please don’t hurt me. Please. I have two kids.
His stomach rolled as the vision flashed across his brain. He hadn’t meant to scare the teller at the bank in Madrid. At the time, it had made sense to rob the bank. Mother needed money to continue her research.
He shook the memory off. Sometimes he wondered if getting his memory back would be a good thing. Maybe his real life had been terrible, too.
“We won’t do stupid things,” Tucker assured the big boss.
Taggart stared at him until Tucker started to squirm.
“We probably won’t do stupid things.” Tucker didn’t sound as sure now.
Tucker was his best friend in the world, and he could be such a dipshit. Jax put a hand on Tucker’s shoulder, guiding him around the massive mound of sarcasm. “He knows we’re going to do stupid shit.” He nodded at Taggart. “We won’t get arrested. Probably.”
“Now that I believe.” Taggart stepped aside. “I’m going to hang out with a crazy dude who believes in aliens and who might or might not be one of the world’s top minds when it comes to intelligence. And I think I have to eat beets. So you two be here at midnight or I’ll kill you.”
That gave him five whole hours. Five hours of freedom.
He strode through the double doors and was hit with the rocking sound of music and laughter, the smell of frying food and fresh beer, the sight of women.
He was so fucking hungry.
Play it cool. Don’t let anyone know that you don’t remember ever being in a public bar. Don’t let anyone know you can’t remember if you’ve ever had sex.
“Hey, you remember about the consent thing, right?” Taggart had followed them in.
It was right on the tip of his tongue to tell the man to go fuck himself, but he gave the boss a calm smile. “I do. I’m not going to kidnap anyone.”
“We don’t do that anymore,” Tucker offered.
Taggart’s stare moved between them. “Tucker, I believe. You, I worry about. You think you fool me, Jax. You’re incredibly good at acting calm, but I know how pissed off you are. I can’t figure out if you’ll take it out on a woman or find some peace in one. Try really fucking hard to make it the latter because I don’t want to have to kill you.”
Yes, this was why Ariel had spent all that time going over consent with him. Everyone worried about his inner beast. Fuck up one guy and suddenly he was a pit bull who might need to be put down.
Okay, so it was more than one guy and he’d put all three of them in the hospital, but he wouldn’t hurt a woman.
“I’ll try not to make you kill me.” And he wouldn’t find peace. He would find an orgasm. That was all he wanted. One night outside his cage. Oh, it was a nice cage, but he wasn’t free to come and go as he pleased. If he ran, someone would chase him down.
He would take his one night and revel in it.
A big hand came down on his shoulder. “You know what I’m going to say, right?”
He’d had this lecture twice already. “I have condoms.”
“Because we’re not sure what McDonald did to your sperm, man,” Taggart snarked. “Those suckers could be as confused as you are.”
He would punch the man, but he’d figured out sarcasm was the only way Taggart knew how to show he gave a damn. He’d noticed recently that Taggart was only a sarcastic asshole to the people he liked. If he didn’t like a person, he usually went silent and cold. “See, there you go, boss. My sperm probably doesn’t even remember what it’s supposed to do. It’ll get confused on the way to the egg.”
“It’ll probably try to impregnate her cervix,” Tucker said and then a grim look came over his face. “I’m going to grab us some seats.”
Tucker walked away, his head hung low. Shit. His night might take a wrong turn.
Taggart sighed. “You’ll have to fix that.” He looked up and nodded. “There’s my date for the night.”
“You Taggart?” A thin man with a trucker hat on his head stepped into the bar. He was older, possibly in his mid-sixties, but the man hadn’t let himself go. There was a lean strength in the arm that reached out to shake Tag’s hand.
“I am. You must be Mel Hughes. If what I suspect about you is true, it’s an honor to meet you.” Tag shook the man’s hand. “Joh…Henry speaks highly of you.”
“And you, too.” There was something almost innocent about the older man. Although Jax wasn’t sure what the hell was under his trucker cap. It looked metallic, like he’d wrapped his head in foil like a burrito and then shoved his hat over it. Weird.
Taggart followed behind the guy with the tin foil and Jax heard them talking about patrolling, but only after Tag had…something about beets. It looked like the boss was going to have a special night. And he was
going to spend his night dealing with his crazy, haunted brother. Damn it.
It sucked that the cervix was what did it. He’d been planning on bumping up against one of those things tonight, but no, Tucker had to get all freaked out because he might or might not be evil.
He glanced around the small space. Tucker had taken up a barstool and shook his head at the big, dark-haired man behind the counter.
“You do not wish to be drinking? Because you look like man who need to drink.”
That was one thick Russian accent. What the hell was a Russian doing in the middle of small-town Colorado? Every instinct Jax had went on full alert. The Agency wasn’t the only intelligence group that would love to get their hands on one of McDonald’s experiments. The formula had been lost, but it could potentially be hiding deep inside their bodies.
“Maybe a beer,” Tucker was saying. “It won’t help. Sometimes I wish I could forget all over again.”
He was going to murder his brother. He slid onto the barstool next to Tucker. “Seriously?” He turned to the big Russian. “My brother is joking. He’s got a memory like a steel trap.”
The Russian frowned and leaned forward. “You are not men we’re supposed to protect? Keep voices to the lowdown because many ears here. Walls thin. Trust me, I hear every time boss tries to make new baby in his office.”
Jax frowned. “I thought we were supposed to be undercover. Now the random bartender knows. Is that why you’re doing that crazy Russian accent?”
The Russian looked around. No one was sitting at the bar yet, though there were several booths taken up by couples and families. He seemed to think it was okay to speak more openly. “I have crazed Russian accent because I am from Russia. My name is Alexei Markov. You might know my cousin. I speak much better English than Nikolai.”
“Nick?” Nick Markovic was on the London team. He’d known Nick for almost as long as he’d been able to remember. And Nick spoke way better English.