DuBois, Edith - Rugged Salvation [Rugged Savage Valley, Colorado 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Edith DuBois

  “I need–I need—” She stumbled away from Michelle. “I think I need to leave.”

  “Marina?”

  She jerked out of Michelle’s grip and crashed through the crowd. When she got to the front door, she turned back toward the living room, back toward the friends and family of the happy foursome. Marina locked eyes with Michelle, rage filling up her veins. Unable to stop herself, she threw her empty champagne flute across the room, and it smashed and shattered against the large glass panels.

  The people standing nearby jumped back and let out startled screams, but Michelle didn’t move a muscle. She kept her eyes locked with Marina’s, and they had that same look.

  The one that said, “I feel really sorry for you.”

  Marina turned on her heel and fled out the door, away from the party. With tears in her eyes, she climbed into her Escalade. With no way to keep her rage in check, a wild scream built up inside her. After a tense, trembling moment, she let it spill out of her lungs and her throat and her heart.

  Her fingers gripped the steering wheel, and her eyes clenched. The scream kept coming. It squeezed every breath and every thought from her body. Finally, she slumped over onto the wheel, gasping for air. After a moment, she turned the engine on.

  She didn’t understand where her rage came from. She should be used to people leaving her by now.

  But she wasn’t. Every time it hurt like it had never hurt before. Every time it felt like a fresh cut, a fresh gouging inside her heart. So she would do the one thing she had always done.

  She would get away.

  From everything and everyone, she would flee. She would run to the only things she did know—alcohol and music—because everything else was too unbearable.

  * * * *

  A few hours later Marina found herself hovering on the brink of sleep. A loud crash sounded from her aunt’s computer room, and she groaned, roused from the cusp of dreaming.

  It had to be the puppy. Aunt Agnes was still at the party. “Roy,” she called out. “What are you doing?”

  He answered with two short barks.

  “Roy, come on. Come back in here.” She called his name a few times and whistled, but he didn’t come prancing back to her room like he normally did. Thinking he might have gotten stuck under whatever had fallen, she rolled off her bed and trudged to the computer room.

  He sat on the floor across from the door, waiting expectantly for her to come find him. As soon as he saw her, his tail began to swish back and forth on the tiled floor.

  “Okay, dude. What’s with you today? First you take a crap all over my bathroom, and now you want to ruin my nap? What’s up?”

  He barked at her, standing up in his excitement. Then he trotted to the corner of the room and began sniffing at her guitar. Aunt Agnes had reorganized the computer room so that all of Marina’s musical equipment could fit inside the house. She was supposed to be writing songs for a new album, but she hadn’t been feeling too inspired lately.

  Roy sniffed at the Blueridge acoustic-electric guitar. It had an Adirondack spruce top and mahogany sides and was a sweet, rich golden color. When she’d signed to her indie label, two years before signing with Gefrin, they’d told her to go to a music shop and pick out whatever guitar she wanted, no matter the cost. She’d had her eye on the Blueridge at the music shop around the corner from her house in Nashville since she was fourteen. She couldn’t count how many times she’d been in there, fiddling around with it on the store amps. As soon as she got off the phone with the label, she marched down to the shop and told Maurice, the owner, to put it on hold for her because she’d be back the next day to buy it.

  She loved that damn guitar. It had been with her since the beginning, and it had never let her down. Of course, now she had several custom-made guitars that she used for her live shows, but she always wrote new songs on the Blueridge. Affectionately, she’d named it Ethel Rose after her great-great-grandmother, who was known for her quick hands, both on the piano keys and with a gun, her mother had told her. Supposedly, she was the harlot of the family, too.

  Roy sniffed around the fret board on the guitar and then gave it a big lick. “Roy!” Marina snapped, clapping her hands to get his attention. He jumped and looked back at her with a guilty expression. “Get away from Ethel Rose, right now.” Slowly, as if maybe Marina wouldn’t notice if he moved at a snail’s pace, he turned his head back to the Blueridge.

  “Roy,” she warned. He tipped his nose toward the guitar. “Don’t you dare do it, Roy.” His tail wagged once or twice.

  She knew he was going to do it, so she lunged for him.

  He was too quick, though. He got in one long swipe of the tongue and then darted out of her reach. “You are sick,” she yelled at him as he ran out of the room, his claws clicking on the floor as he made his escape. She couldn’t help giggling, though, as she grabbed the edge of her shirt and picked up her guitar, wiping off his slobber. “Disgusting.”

  She started to put Ethel Rose back on her stand, but then, shrugging, sat down in the office chair. She strummed a G and then a C. And then a D and then a C.

  A melody—beautiful and so perfect—floated like morning mist in a field through her mind.

  She caught the melody and smiled, and then she started to hum. For some reason, ever since she could remember, melodies had floated into and through her. She didn’t know where they came from or why they chose her, but sometimes, it felt like music was the only thing that made sense, the only thing she could count on.

  After she had the first strain, her fingers and her voice took over. A song was building up, and suddenly, despite the hectic morning with Roy and despite her loss of control at Michelle’s engagement party, Marina felt better.

  The music made her feel human again. She clung to that. She always had.

  Always would.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  “To get myself a woman!” Johnny shouted over his shoulder at Jeremiah as he strode away from the wildlife center toward the Jeep. They’d returned earlier in the afternoon with enough time for him to check on the few animals in the shelter, take a quick shower, and then tug on a pair of jeans and a dark-blue and green button-up shirt. He hadn’t even taken the time to shave. His beard was thick, and the curls on top of his head had grown out to an awkward, floppy length.

  But tonight, that kind of shit didn’t matter.

  Tonight, there was only one place in the world he wanted to be after more than a month of traipsing through the forest with limited food rations, no proper bathing, a grueling job to perform, and with only his brothers for company.

  He was going to Catdaddy’s.

  He ripped open the driver’s door.

  “Johnny, you better wait for us, asshole!” Jeremiah called out and then ran back into the housing part of the center where they all three lived.

  He revved up the engine in warning, but when they hadn’t come back out after a minute, he shifted the Jeep into reverse and spit up gravel as he began to whip the vehicle around. A second before he flicked it back into drive, James leapt into the passenger seat. Jeremiah grabbed the crossbar and swung his legs inside, landing with a thud in the backseat.

  The second he did, Johnny shifted into drive and put the pedal to the floorboard. The Jeep lurched forward, and they flew all the way to the honky-tonk. Even though it was only a little past six in the evening, there was already a healthy number of vehicles in the parking lot. Just the sort of homecoming Johnny would have asked for.

  When he reached the entrance, he flung the door open. There was one small hushed moment, and then Letty Hargrove hollered from behind the bar. “Well, tickle me pink if it isn’t those damn Greenwoods back from the wilderness. Decided to grace us with your presence, have you?”

  “Naw, Letty,” Johnny drawled, nice and easy. “You know it ain’t like that.”

  “We came to see your beautiful face and hear your little songbird voice
,” Jeremiah said, making his way to the bar.

  Letty, the fifty-something owner of Catdaddy’s, released a wheezy, hacking laugh. “Cut that out and come here, knucklehead. You know I don’t like all that flattery crap.” Letty walked out from behind the bar, and Jeremiah wrapped his arms around her, picking her tiny frame up off the floor with a monstrous hug. Johnny followed up with a hug of his own as did James, and then they all three ordered a bottle of the Yeatses’ home brew.

  “Oh, that is delicious,” Johnny said, smacking his lips after a large gulp and settling at one of the small tables on the patio in the back. Johnny had always liked the way Catdaddy’s was set up with a breezy patio out back and then a grimy interior joined by the bar in the middle. Johnny and his brothers usually sat outside because they liked to constantly be breathing in the fresh air and looking at the mountains and the forest, but it was nice to watch all the goings-on inside, too.

  As the night went on and more patrons arrived, old-time friends came to say hello and welcome them back. Even though only the bear-shifters and the lion-shifters plus a few of the longtime Savage Valley residents knew what the Greenwood brothers had been up to, it was nice to come back from a boundary testing to find that they had been missed.

  Surprisingly, a lot of the shifter families were there that night. The Kinmans had arrived early on with their fiancée, Elena Ward, looking serene and glowing with her slightly protuberant belly. Johnny noticed how one of her hands always rested on her stomach, and he surprised himself by feeling a pang of jealousy. Not because the Kinmans had Elena, but because they were starting a family and had found a mate. They looked so nice and cozy. Johnny of course wanted that kind of thing for himself, but he’d always assumed it would be in the distant, distant future. Seeing the Kinmans and their growing family made him realize that the future could be arriving sooner rather than later. In only a few years, he’d be thirty. He certainly wasn’t getting any younger.

  Neither were his brothers. James was almost thirty-five and Jeremiah wasn’t far behind. They’d always known, just like the rest of the bear-shifters, that they’d share a woman, but Johnny had to wonder how many carefree years he had left.

  Soon enough the Ashleys arrived, and if that wasn’t a big enough surprise, it looked like they’d come in tandem with the Cashes and the Popes. And to put the cherry on top, all three sets of shifters had mates dangling off their arms.

  Hell, Johnny’s carefree time could be down to days.

  After ordering their drinks, the Ashleys spotted the Kinmans and the Greenwoods outside and came to join them. “Well, look who’s back,” Thomas Ashley said, giving Johnny and his brothers a brotherly handshake-back-thump combo.

  “And who is this lovely lady?” Jeremiah asked, whisking up the dark-haired beauty’s little hand and placing a kiss on it.

  Her eyes met Jeremiah’s, and Johnny could see she wasn’t one to be easily shaken. “Michelle Andrews, soon-to-be Ashley, the fiancé of your bear-brothers, and judging from Elias’s growl, I’d say he’s none too happy with your flirtation techniques.” She flicked a dainty eyebrow up, took a swig of her beer, and then sat down at the Ashley table.

  “Good one, bro,” James muttered. To Michelle, he offered a gruff welcome and then settled back into his chair. Johnny rolled his eyes at James’s brooding-older-brother routine. Hell, they’d been roughing it for a month and a half. Johnny figured James could let loose for at least one night, but nope. His oldest brother sat there with his arms crossed, glaring at anybody who dared look his way. Shrugging off James’s uptight behavior, he returned his attention to the Ashleys.

  “Well, goddamn,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief. “We’re gone for six weeks and come back to find you all got yourselves a wifey?” He chuckled at the proud expressions plastered across each of the Ashley brothers’ faces.

  “Not officially until January, but yes. That’s the gist of it. You just missed our engagement party a couple days ago,” Thomas said, pulling Michelle in close for a fierce kiss. “We are the luckiest men in Savage Valley.” Michelle blushed prettily at his declaration and returned his kiss with gusto.

  “I think we’d have to contest you on that statement,” Caleb said softly from the Kinman table, his eyes on Elena.

  In a much lower voice, Johnny asked the bear-shifters at large, “And the Cashes and the Popes, the lion-shifters? They’ve found mates, too?”

  Joseph nodded.

  “Are there any others we don’t know about?”

  “Not so far, but the idea seems to be catching on. I saw Jack Abbott chatting it up with a pretty girl at the thrift shop.”

  Johnny sat back in his chair, slightly uneasy at the thought of the lion-shifters finding their mates. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them, per se, but he didn’t like thinking about them getting a one-up on the bears.

  Across the table, Jeremiah grinned. “Well, Johnny…James…it looks like we’re gonna have to man up and find ourselves a mate. We can’t let those lions get more mates than the bears. Next thing you know, they’ll be trying to take over the town.”

  “Love is not a competition, Jeremiah Greenwood,” Elena chided from the Kinman table in her clipped British tones. “You have to let these things happen naturally.”

  Jeremiah threw his hands up. “I’m not arguing with you there, but you know…sometimes you have to help nature along.” With a wink, Jeremiah downed the rest of his home brew and then shot out of his chair. “Who knows? Maybe our mate is here tonight. In fact, I think I’ll head to the bar. I see a cute little blonde with ‘mate potential’ written all over her. Anyone need anything?”

  Johnny looked in the direction of the bar, trying to decide if he wanted to stick with the same beer or move on to another flavor. As his eyes scanned across the interior, he saw the front doors fly open, and all of a sudden, standing at the entry to Catdaddy’s, there she was.

  Johnny had to blink a couple times to make sure his eyes weren’t trying to deceive him, but nope, she was standing right there.

  And she was the most beautiful woman in the world. And she was here, at Catdaddy’s. Her long, dark braid hung over one shoulder, and she had wide eyes and the fullest, poutiest, pinkest lips he’d ever seen. She had perfect breasts. Their plumpness pressed so insistently against her tight shirt. Johnny felt his cock hardening at the thought of those breasts pillowing his cheek as he nuzzled against her. Her waist tucked in, and her hips flared out. He wished she wasn’t wearing those stockings so he could see the unadulterated perfection of her legs, but he certainly liked those snug denim shorts she wore. Wanting to take in the whole sight of her, Johnny moved his eyes from her face over her breasts and her stomach and her thighs and then down to her feet, noticing a pair of scuffed-up white cowboy boots. And as if she needed anything else, she was holding a well-worn, scratched guitar case in her hand as her eyes scanned the innards of the honky-tonk.

  She was pure perfection.

  “Holy shit.”

  Johnny jumped and then whipped around. “Well, goddamn,” he said with a laugh, “James Greenwood has spoken at last.”

  * * * *

  Marina plopped down on a stool at the bar, propping her guitar up next to her.

  “You want your usual, honey?” Letty asked as she flew by in her tight black jeans and tight black tank top, tossing glasses onto the counter and pouring shot after shot for the patrons.

  “Nope. Tonight I brought a special guest.” She patted Ethel Rose. “And we need something a little stronger ’cause we were hoping for a minute or two in the spotlight.”

  “You want to play for us, honey?” Letty paused for a moment to shoot Marina a tilted grin.

  “If that’s all right with you?”

  “Hell yeah, it’s all right with me. I ain’t never turned down live music. And you know what, first round’s on us. Whatever you want.”

  “Then I’ll take a shot of Jack, straight.”

  “How about a double?”

  Ma
rina grinned. “Even better.”

  After she downed her drink, she headed up to the stage. It had been nearly two years since she’d written any new material, but ever since picking up Ethel Rose after Michelle’s engagement party she’d been working on a new song. She’d finished it about half an hour before and, on a whim, decided to try it out on a live audience at Catdaddy’s.

  Up on the stage, she pulled Ethel Rose out of her battered case, annoyed to feel slight tremors in her fingers. Letty brought up a microphone and a cable to plug Ethel Rose into the PA system.

  After she had everything hooked up and her guitar in tune, she figured it was best to dive straight in.

  “Howdy, everyone. I’m Marina Andrews.” A few cheers broke out, and she smiled nice and big, comforted by the familiar sound of applause. “I’ve been working on something new, and I wanted to play it for you fine folks.” The milling occupants had stopped chattering and were starting to gather in front of the small stage. Marina felt her confidence growing, and the tremors in her fingers lessened. “What do y’all say? How about I start with a couple of my classics, and then we’ll finish with the new one.” She felt her onstage persona bubbling to the surface as seconds passed. This felt right. Everything about being onstage felt right. “Does that sound good to y’all?” More applause broke out, stronger and louder than before. “Well, that’s just perfect then. This one’s called ‘Nashville Through and Through.’” With that, she launched into the song.

  It didn’t take her long. After the first couple of notes, she could feel the blood thrumming powerfully through her body, and the notes fell easily out of her throat. It had been a while since she’d played the guitar in such a raw setting, but her fingers quickly limbered up and got to flying over the frets. After she finished “Nashville Through and Through,” she went into another one of her older songs, figuring after about two more, she’d sing the new one and then call it a night.