Special Cowboy Menage Collection

by Morgan Ashbury

  One thing he had decided. He wouldn’t take Annie with him when he left for Mexico. She’d just be a drag on his time and his resources. He wanted the gems and he wanted his freedom. Besides, he really didn’t need more than one taste of his sweet little sister-in-law. Thinking about her got him hot and hard, but he figured that was mostly because he’d been without pussy for so long. He didn’t really want her, he just wanted one little sample of what used to belong to his dear older brother.

  He passed a couple of old farts bent together, talking low as they shuffled toward the restaurant. The wife seemed to be supporting her husband even though the old boy leaned on a wooden cane. He hoped he never got that feeble that he needed some broad to help him get around.

  A younger man lounged against the back of a Ford Taurus parked just down from his rented wheels. The guy had one of those weird doo-hickeys stuck in his ear, his head bouncing to the music as he stood there, eyes closed, probably zoned out on weed or crack, or both.

  Rick shook his head as he passed the guy. Maybe he wouldn’t ever be nominated as citizen of the year, but at least he’d never wasted his brains or his body on drugs and music.

  Packing was a matter of tossing his gear into that duffel bag. He considered for a moment, then decided he needed to use the john.

  Fifteen minutes later, he unlocked his car and got behind the wheel. Wonder boy was gone and so was the Taurus. It was none of his never-mind if the asshole wanted to drive, stoned. He just hoped the pot-head wasn’t going to be driving anywhere near him.

  He drove as far as the Conoco. It would probably be smart to fill up. Then he wouldn’t have to stop once he got the loot. Not for a good long time. He figured he’d drive the rental until the middle of Colorado. Then he’d boost a car, change the plates.

  There were only two states between Wyoming and Mexico. He’d looked it up on the map. Didn’t look like the trip would be very difficult. He’d be home-free in no time at all.

  * * * *

  “That went well,” Jesse said, his words at odds with his tone.

  Grant grunted, the sound the only possible response he could make at the moment. Annie had lit out as if a band of terrorists had been after her. The sun wasn’t even kissing the horizon yet and they hadn’t even eaten dinner.

  “Maybe we moved too quickly,” he said. He pulled his Stetson off, allowing the breeze to ruffle his hair. He banged the hat a couple of times against his leg. Not enough. Spinning on his heel, he kicked the porch step, hard. Then he turned to look in the direction of the county road, the direction Annie’s car had gone.

  “Fuck.”

  That helped some. He rubbed at the tightness in his chest, a sensation that felt very much like fear. Turning to look at Jesse, who stood uncharacteristically still and quiet, he asked, “What the hell are we going to do now?”

  “Give her just a tiny bit of space. And I mean tiny.”

  Since not even the dust raised by Annie’s car was visible any longer, he turned his back on the road again. The look of determination on his best friend’s face helped. Clearly, Jessie felt as he did. They weren’t going to let Annie go. At least not without a fight.

  He headed up the porch steps, Jesse beside him.

  Once inside the house, Jesse set about making a pot of coffee.

  Grant sat down to think. “She’s scared,” Grant reasoned aloud. Annie hadn’t rejected them. She’d turned tail and fled because she was scared to reach out for what she wanted.

  He could understand how a life of being knocked down would make her afraid to trust.

  “That’s what I figured,” Jesse agreed. “And maybe she doesn’t yet believe that we could love her as much as we do.”

  “Maybe we ought to phone Aunt Bev and ask her advice,” Grant said.

  Jesse laughed. “I know her erotic romance novels kind of got us thinking outside the box. Neither of us had ever considered that we both could have Annie until we read your aunt’s books. But I’m not altogether certain she could help us out of this pickle.”

  Grant chuckled. He’d been kidding, of course. No one else in the family except him and Jesse—and everyone in the Douglas clan considered Jesse one of theirs—knew about Aunt Bev’s books. Her pen name was Buffy La Fleur, and according to one review site Grant had visited, she was the “First Goddess of American Erotica”. Grant had gotten a kick out of that, as Aunt Bev was sixty-three and had been single since Uncle Harry had died suddenly some twenty-five years before. To Jesse, he said, “Seeing as the woman’s lived like a nun these past many years, you have a point. So, what are you figuring? Give Annie until just after dinner time?”

  “Yeah. Just enough time for her to relax, for her to believe she’s gotten away clean. Sooner or later, she’ll figure out we’re not going to change our minds about her.”

  “That’s going to take time. It was dumb to think we could rush her. We knew better.” Grant for sure wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

  “No, that wasn’t our brightest moment, Homer.”

  Grant liked the idea that they weren’t going to give Annie much wiggle room. Of course they would if she ever indicated that she was tired of them—Grant gulped silently and prayed that never happened. Or if she just plain flat out didn’t love them.

  He knew she did love them. In fact, he was willing to bet that one of the reasons she’d turned tail and run was because she loved them both very much. Damn fool woman probably thought she was being noble.

  Fuck noble. Grant nodded once, an affirmation that all would soon be as it should be.

  * * * *

  Annie used both hands to scrub at her face, as if that action alone could stem her tears and wipe the memory of them away. She figured it would take her men—God, I have to stop thinking of them that way—about a week to figure out that this afternoon, when she left them, she’d really been saying goodbye.

  Ending it was the right thing to do. She couldn’t allow them to tie themselves to her. They’d said they loved her and she believed them. But their relationship was just beginning. Leaving them before they got in any deeper was the best thing for all of them. Maybe they believed it when they said they didn’t care that she couldn’t have children. But maybe they were just caught up in the newness of their passion. If she stayed with them, and they decided down the road that she’d been right, wouldn’t it hurt so much more to lose them then? No, better to end it before it really got started.

  Jesse and Grant deserved the chance to find women of their own to love and to cherish. Ones they could marry, ones they could make babies with, raise a family with.

  She couldn’t give them that.

  Why now? Why did I have to find the perfect men for me when I can’t even give them what they deserve?

  When she’d awakened in that intensive care unit and been given the news that she not only lost her baby, but undergone a hysterectomy, her heart broke. But never once had she wondered ‘Why me?’

  But here she was now, healed, whole, and that was the only thing she could think. No one had to tell her life wasn’t fair. That was something she’d always known. And something she’d never spent much time questioning or thinking about. Until now.

  Her apartment echoed with the loneliness that already was filling her heart. Where just a few weeks ago these cozy rooms above her store had been her sanctuary, tonight they felt foreign.

  Annie stopped in the middle of her kitchen. Her utensil drawer was open about half an inch.

  “Huh.” Usually nearly compulsive when it came to keeping drawers and cabinets closed, she figured she must have been more anxious than she realized last night.

  Last night.

  Last night had been so perfect. Snuggled in that bed between Jesse and Grant, the heat of their bodies warming hers, the scent of their lovemaking a subtle perfume that kept her fires banked, had been the most wonderful thing she’d ever experienced. With no effort at all, she could conjure the feel of Jesse’s hand stroking her back, Grant’s fingers tr
acing a pattern on her bottom as they dozed in the afterglow.

  A shiver wracked her and Annie hugged herself. She felt cold, alone, and oddly threatened. The impulse to run back to that warm bed, to that sense of perfect peace and contentment, surged and she steeled herself against it.

  She’d been weak all her life, doing whatever was easiest, thinking that if she just gave in, if she just went along, then everything would be fine. That thinking, that flaw, had cost her the chance to ever be a mother.

  This time, doing the hardest thing would cost her the men she loved, but the gift to them—their freedom, and the opportunity to have what she could never have—was far more important than any amount of pain or loss she suffered.

  Early evening shadows filled her apartment. Though she’d had nothing since lunch, Annie wasn’t hungry. Nor did she have any energy to do the load of laundry that awaited her, or even channel surf for something to watch.

  She wanted to crawl into bed and have a good cry.

  Listless, she turned away from her kitchen—she’d close the utensil drawer later—and wandered through her living room to her bedroom.

  Like the rest of the apartment, the space seemed empty and haunting, the comfort and sense of security she’d enjoyed for the last year missing.

  I’ve never been a fanciful person before. Of course, I’ve never turned my back on something I wanted with every fiber of my being before, either.

  Annie flicked on the light just inside the bedroom door, went to her dresser and reached for the drawer she kept her nightshirts in. On top of her dresser, good old Mr. Tinkles smiled out at her with his one eye.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her heart thudded heavily in her chest. Her beloved teddy bear beamed at her from the left side of the mirror, not the right.

  Someone had been in her apartment. Someone had been in her bedroom.

  Revulsion rolled in her belly and fear snaked up her spine. Fear blossomed to terror, flooding her. Run! Her mind screamed at her legs, and for a long moment she stayed frozen, unable to move.

  One step back, another to the side. Pivoting, she ran toward the kitchen, toward the door and the stairs and safety.

  A figure loomed just inside the doorway, and Annie froze. Horror rose up to swallow her at the sight of the man who stood just inside her apartment door, an evil, lurid, familiar smile on his face.

  “Well, hello there, Annie. Why don’t you come over here and give your loving brother-in-law a great big kiss?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The last thing Jesse wanted to do was stop and help a stranded motorist. All he wanted was to put his foot into the floorboards and get to Annie’s. He couldn’t explain the sense that had grown in the last few minutes that he needed to be with her now. He hadn’t mentioned that feeling to Grant, but apparently the other man had been experiencing it, too.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Yep, Grant sounded just as impatient as he felt. He pulled up in front of the Ford Taurus, recognizing both it and the driver. Which was why he couldn’t just motor past and head on into Branchton.

  In Wyoming, you stopped to help a neighbor even when it was inconvenient. If he didn’t, he’d expect Mrs. Bishop would run up one side of him and down the other when she found out about it.

  He and Grant got out of the truck at the same time and headed over to look under the raised hood.

  “Hey, Billy. Trouble?” Probably a stupid question, Jesse thought.

  “Hey, Jesse. Yeah, damn thing quit on me. Just up and died.” He nodded at Jesse, then Grant.

  Then he looked over his shoulder at Jesse’s truck.

  He turned back to inspect his car’s engine. “You boys headed over to the truck stop on the interstate?”

  Jesse understood the reference, of course. Other than The Axel, the saloon that was open every night but Sunday, there was no place to buy alcohol in Branchton. The town wasn’t dry, there just happened to be no place to buy the stuff, and the closest place to pick up beer to take home was ten miles to the northwest, by the on-ramp to the interstate.

  “No, we’re on our way into town.”

  “Left Annie sleeping at your place, huh?”

  Jesse felt his cheeks heat. He’d known that at some point people would begin to make the connection, as he and Grant planned to spend every spare minute with their woman. Sooner or later, folks would begin to wonder and go fishing, the way Billy had just done. He and Grant talked about it some and decided the best way to handle it was to be honest, but not chatty. He hadn’t thought, however, that such a fishing expedition would embarrass him. He looked at Billy’s face, and relaxed when he saw nothing more than mild interest in the man’s expression. Of course, considering Billy’s reputation for having more than one bed partner at a time, he hadn’t really expected him to be judgmental.

  Before he could respond, Grant reached under the hood toward the distributor cap. “Here’s your problem, Billy-boy. One of your lead wires came loose.”

  “Well, shut my mouth and call me Nancy,” Billy muttered.

  Jesse wondered that the man didn’t seem more chagrinned that he’d missed something so basic.

  “Well, Nancy, that should get you on your way.”

  “Thanks for stopping. This heap will run now. You go on and get those libations and get back to your lady.”

  “No libations,” Grant said, standing back to give Billy room to finish reconnecting the lead. “And no Annie back at the ranch, either.”

  “What?”

  Billy’s quicksilver change from affable goofball to man on the edge had Jesse taking a step back.

  “Annie’s at her apartment.” Jesse knew his tone reflected his confusion.

  “Shit! Damn it to hell. I thought she was safe and sound back at your ranch. Couldn’t the two of you have kept her busy in your beds for just one damn day?”

  He slammed the hood down but Jesse moved just as fast, using his left hand to shove Billy against that hood.

  “Excuse me?” Every one of Jesse’s senses flashed red alert. He felt Grant tense beside him, and made room for the other man when he stepped forward. They were a solid unit and if Billy possessed even half a brain, he’d realize they could have him on the ground hurting without breaking a sweat.

  Billy put his hands up in surrender. “Back off. I didn’t mean any insult. But we’ve got a potential problem.”

  Just then a loud buzzing sound broke the tense silence. Billy visibly paled.

  “What the fuck was that?” Grant asked.

  “GPS signal. Set to go off when the device reached specific co-ordinates. Okay, forget potential problem. We’ve got to move, now. Annie could be in serious danger.”

  Billy shook off Jesse’s hold and ran for the truck. Jesse didn’t waste any time arguing, and neither did Grant. Spinning on his heels, he ran to the driver’s door and wrenched it open. “You better tell us what the fuck is going on, Billy.”

  Billy all but dove into the cab from the passenger side, sliding to the middle of the bench seat, so Grant could get in. “I will. I’ll tell you everything on the way to Annie’s.”

  * * * *

  “What are you doing here, Rick?”

  Annie tried to keep the fear out of her voice. Rick Rutherford had a gun in his hand. Jim’s brother had always scared her more than a little, even without a weapon in sight, even before he tried to force himself on her. And she knew, looking in his eyes, that he was recalling that time even as he his insolent gaze raked over.

  “Now is that any way to greet a member of your family, babe? After all, now that poor Jimmy boy has gone to his reward, I’m the head of the Rutherford clan.”

  Annie decided to ignore that. As far as she was concerned Rick had never been a member of her family. But she figured saying that would only piss him off. Instead she asked, “When did you get out of prison?”

  “Two weeks ago today. Want to hear something funny? That hole I was in was called ‘Wyoming’. And then here I f
ound you’d run away all the way out here, another Wyoming.”

  “What are you doing here, Rick?” she repeated.

  “One thing about being on the inside, you learn how to work the system. Like you got extra points if you attended Sunday services. So over the last couple of years, I’ve had a lot of Bible reading crammed down my throat. They knew how to do things in those Old Testament days, did you know that? Guy dies, his brother takes over his stuff—including his wife. Maybe I’m just here to do my Christian duty. Or maybe I want to take my turn being your Teddy Bear. You still have that ratty old thing, Annie? I promise I’ll be a better bed mate than he has been this last year.”

  A cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Annie felt terror wind through her, a black fog that slithered and churned. She couldn’t let him see her fear. But how to answer him? How to respond in a way that wouldn’t set off his temper or let him scent her terror? Words and phrases and attitudes she’d seen Jim employ in the past rushed into her mind. She seized them, the only lifeline she had.

  “So you came all the way out west just for a piece of ass? I find that hard to believe. I know Jim had to have told you what a failure I am in the sex department.”

  Rick laughed, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Old Jimmy, he was a real son-of-a-bitch, wasn’t he, babe? Of course, Ma thought the sun rose and set on his asshole, but you and me, we know different.”

  Annie’s terror climbed, and so did the certainty that she was in very real danger. “I want you to leave, now.” She would fight him, if it came down to that. She would fight and claw and kick with every bit of strength she possessed. She’d never fought back in the past, never fought against the verbal and emotional abuse, and that failure had eventually led to much, much worse.