Chloe's Double Draw [King's Bluff, Wyoming] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  “No. Oh, I wish I could have seen it burn. Trent got all bent out of shape over the break-in.” She spared her ex a smug smile. “You’ll have to forgive me. I had a fair amount of unresolved anger to process. My father’s men e-mailed me pictures. They carried out my orders to perfection. The lipstick was a lovely touch, don’t you agree?” Anita stepped closer to Chloe. She could almost feel the acid burn from the venom clouding her eyes. How at odds with the cute-as-pie teddy bears appliquéd to her sweater.

  “Sometimes when we’d fuck, he’d say your name. Do you know how that felt? Your own husband imagining another woman each time he came inside of you?” Anita’s screech shot out into the silence of the clearing.

  “Shut the fuck up, you stupid bitch.” Trent’s spittle hit Anita’s cheek.

  “I don’t think so.” Anita pivoted and raised her arm to Trent.

  Chloe heard the pop and watched Trent’s head reel back on impact.

  Oh, my God. Horror froze Chloe’s limbs. She stared at Trent, laying face up on the ground, his eyes open. Empty. A gaping hole in his right temple. She wanted to scream, but her throat refused to work.

  Anita turned back, her pistol on Chloe. Then in one horrifying movement, she switched her aim to Flynn. “You first, Down Under Boy. Then I can play with Chloe.”

  No, no, no. Not Flynn. Her. Choose her. She could give Flynn time. Time to save Noah and himself. Chloe pressed her trembling lips together. Her chest tightened. They were…everything.

  Think, Chloe.

  “That’s right, Anita. Look at me,” Flynn commanded. He moved one step to the right, away from Chloe.

  Ever her protector. Not this time, Master.

  She needed a distraction. Pleading? Forget it. Anita was too high on revenge. Time to derail her power trip. She resented Chloe’s influence over Trent. So…maybe…yes. It was one hell of a gamble, but she’d run out of options.

  Chloe lifted her chin and soaked her voice with contempt. “Your anger’s misplaced, Anita. You should look at yourself. If you were more of a woman, knew how to please a man, Trent wouldn’t have given me another thought. I mean, come on.” She shrugged. “He fucked you but it was my name he cried out. And I wasn’t even trying.”

  Anita’s jaw hung like a carnival clown before her face snapped into a tight snarl. “You fucking whore! If it wasn’t for you, Trent never would have left me.”

  The crazy bitch’s scream didn’t invoke the fear of a few moments ago. Maybe it was her easy dismissal of Chloe as an adversary.

  Flynn’s hand edged under his shirt. His furious gaze ordered Chloe to keep quiet.

  Too late on that one.

  Anita swung her pistol back on Chloe. She felt a macabre satisfaction. Better her than Flynn. And Noah. Maybe they’d have a chance now. Time for one last distraction.

  Chloe pulled the switchblade from her pocket and pressed the button. The blade popped opened. She jabbed it upward at Anita. “Prove that you’re better than me, bitch.”

  “Chloe, drop!” Flynn ordered.

  She dived. The impact of the hard ground jarred the breath from her body. Behind Anita, she caught a flash of movement. Noah! A small object hurtled toward Anita, hitting the back of her head with a sickening crack a second before she heard a shot.

  A crushing weight descended. Flynn sprawled over her, pressing her face into the grass.

  A stampede of feet sounded on the hard ground. She couldn’t see anything, could hardly breathe as Flynn’s body covered her.

  “Sweetheart, you okay?” Flynn ran his hands over Chloe’s shoulders, down her arms as his gaze swept over her, taking inventory.

  She raised herself onto her knees, faced Flynn and did some checking of her own. No blood. She patted his chest, shoulders. No holes. She flung her arms around his waist and felt his kiss on her forehead. “I’m fine. I promise. You okay?” At his nod, she choked back on her sob. “Where’s Noah?”

  “Chloe!” Noah, leaning on Quinn, staggered in their direction.

  “Listen to that roar, sweetheart. He’s fine.” Flynn let out a gust of air. He seemed to wilt for a second as he looked over at Noah.

  Flynn cupped his hands under her arms and lifted her up, keeping a firm hold around her while she got her balance. She glanced over at Trent’s still form and shuddered.

  “It’s over, luv. He can’t hurt you anymore.” Flynn steered her to Noah.

  Jeb dragged a protesting Anita toward a rapidly approaching sheriff’s four-wheel drive. Blood dribbled through her fingers covering a gunshot wound on her arm. “Lady, I’ve never raised a hand to a woman in my life, but you are sorely testing my limits.”

  Chloe sympathized. If there was one thing she hated it was a condescending psycho bitch with bad taste in sweaters.

  “God, woman, I nearly fucking died seeing you threaten that bitch.” Noah swung out with his good arm and dragged her close. He glared at Flynn. “You and I will talk later.” His gruff voice was muffled in the waves of Chloe’s hair.

  “No doubt.” Flynn’s dry quip passed over her head.

  She lifted her hands and cupped Noah’s face, his skin pale despite the normal tan. “You had us so worried.” Tears pooled in her eyes, slid down her cheeks. Safe.

  “Hush.” Noah lowered his head. His kiss was surprisingly soft but left the promise of so much more.

  She moved to inspect his wound, but Noah held her tighter to his side.

  “What’s this?” Quinn bent down and picked up a small, hard red ball at his feet. “Isn’t this a cricket ball?”

  Flynn burst out a laugh. “You hit her with a bloody cricket ball?”

  “It was all I could find without giving myself away. And here you were telling me we’d never get any use out of that old set up here.” Noah’s cheeks creased with his smile.

  “Happy to be proven wrong, mate.” Flynn’s voice was thick with emotion. He reached out and squeezed Chloe’s shoulder. “Gretchen’s waiting back home to have the argument of her life. She’s determined you’ll visit the medical center.”

  “She’s not the only one.” Chloe pulled back from Noah’s chest where he’d tucked her in nice and tight. “You’re going, Noah, and that’s all there is to it, even if I have to get Quinn to carry you there kicking and screaming. And don’t think you can threaten me with a spanking.” She smiled with the surety of a woman holding a full house. “You injured your spanking arm. So I’m free and clear for some time.”

  Flynn pursed his lips as Quinn looked off in the distance, his shoulders shaking.

  Noah leaned down, forcing Chloe to bend back over his good arm. “I’ve got news for you, little one. When it comes to spanking, I’m ambidextrous.”

  As her men would say, Bugger!

  Epilogue

  Noah took a swallow of his beer and reminded himself what a lucky bastard he was to live in King’s Bluff. The bar at the Imperial Pub had never seen such a crowd, not even after the yearly cricket match. Dumbstruck at the outpouring of good will and offers of support after his shooting and the burning of Chloe’s house, he and Flynn were hosting an open bar “thanks for the flowers and cards” night at the pub. They’d first issued the open invite with the expression it was their “shout,” but after receiving blank stares and explaining that meant “my round” in Aussie speak, they’d simply settled for “all you can drink and eat for four hours on us.”

  The signs of support had been especially humbling for Noah. He’d taken people’s natural reserve for shunning. The last few days had taught him a few lessons. The first was not to take himself so seriously. The last two years he’d tried to prove himself outside of his name. For those here tonight, his name was an afterthought. His actions, past and present, had secured their approval.

  And the same went for Chloe, at present perched on a barstool at the end of the bar and bracketed by Reagan and Purdy.

  The details of Trent Young’s history with Chloe had remained within a select bunch. All the community cared about was a good w
oman had been victimized, and those responsible were six feet under or somewhere they couldn’t hurt others.

  “Evening, boys.” Tom and Moira Hansen walked up beside them. Tom held up a canvas shopping bag from their market, complete with the new logo stating they were minimizing their carbon footprint. That’s right, King’s Bluff was going green.

  “It’s a little something we’ve put together for you. Better than flowers, at least for the two of you.” Moira raised her finger and pointed it at the two men. “But, you have to promise to share with Chloe.” She nodded to Tom, who passed the bag on to Noah.

  Before the guys could reply, the older couple moved off and joined in the throng around the bar.

  Flynn pulled open one side of the bag. “They know us so well.”

  Noah recognized the brightly colored bags of Aussie candy. Candy. Jeez, he’d never get used to that word. Lollies, that’s what they were called back in Oz. He and Flynn had their favorites. Jaffas, Minties, and Fantales to name a few. Hansen’s Market had been supplying Aussie comfort foods to the town for years. For some reason Vegemite had never caught on. Heathens.

  Noah’s mouth watered at the assembled selection. “You get the Jaffas, I get the Fantales. Everything else we divide with Chloe.” Fair’s fair.

  “Agreed.” Flynn drained the last of his beer, placed his empty glass on the table behind them, and then nodded to his right. “There’s Roy. I’ve got to say, retirement agrees with him.” Flynn saluted the ex-sheriff. Roy returned the greeting with a smile.

  Noah nodded to Roy. “Ten days ago he had a murderous psycho in his cells. Talk about timing. Ends his career in a blaze of glory.” And the fact Caleb informed him Anita Hayes was locked up in a mental institution, where her father’s money and kickbacks couldn’t buy her way out, was more satisfying than a never-ending glass of cold beer on a hot summer’s day.

  He sighed. “Promise me we don’t have to suck up to Caleb now that he’s sheriff. I wouldn’t put it past the bastard to charge us with littering if we gave him a hard time.”

  Flynn chuckled. “Giddy with power—”

  Karl Wagner stepped out to avoid a group of moving revelers and stumbled in front of Noah and Flynn.

  Noah’s body locked taut.

  Flynn’s curse, though soft, punched through the air. Subtlety was never his friend’s strong suit.

  Wagner drew himself up, seemingly desperate to gain an extra inch or two in height, a futile gesture seeing as how he was a good five inches shorter than Flynn. He ignored Flynn and instead flicked his insolent gaze over Noah. “Your lady friend all safe and sound, King?”

  Noah handed Flynn the canvas bag. That act alone had the shorter man taking a step back. “Chloe’s well-being is none of your concern.”

  “I was only trying to be polite.” Wagner’s chin lifted in a mulish tilt. “You’ve got one hell of an attitude problem.”

  “Stay away from Chloe. Don’t ask about her. Don’t even look her way when she walks past you in the street. Following those simple steps ensures your continued good health.”

  “Yeah, and failure to do so?” Wagner’s relaxed tone didn’t match his swift eye movements.

  Flynn stepped forward. “Leads you straight to me.”

  Sweeping his gaze over Flynn, Wagner snorted. “Aren’t you there to hold the bags?”

  Flynn laid one hand on Karl’s shoulder. Despite the easy smile on Flynn’s face, his eyes shone with a lethal glint, like a knife’s blade held up to the sun. “Nah, that’s just to prove I only need one hand to snap your neck.”

  Wagner shifted his feet. The shoulder bearing Flynn’s hand lowered a fraction as the man’s mouth tightened. The clues were subtle, but Noah knew damn well the pressure Flynn’s hand could exert.

  Noah placed his own hand on Wagner’s other shoulder, unsurprised to find the flesh soft with a thick layer of fat. He let his fingers do some magic of their own. “Anita Young swore she didn’t start the fire at Chloe’s. Since she’s copped to first degree murder, there’s no reason she’d hold back on striking a few matches.” He leaned close, his nostrils picking up the overbearing stink of Wagner’s aftershave. Fine beads of sweat dotted Wagner’s upper lip. “You’re on notice. Hurt anyone we care about and you cease to breathe.”

  One last hearty squeeze, then both he and Flynn released the little turd.

  Wager dragged in a quick breath, and slowly, very slowly, straightened his shoulders. “You’re gonna eat those words, King. I—” He broke off and cursed, as if regretting his words.

  Flynn glanced at Noah. Wager might be a slimy bastard but neither he nor Flynn was stupid enough to underestimate him. A small man with big ambitions was a danger to everyone.

  “Then it’s a good thing we’ll be watching you.” Noah pushed past Wagner. Another second in his company was one too many.

  At the end of the bar, Reagan, Chloe, and Purdy sipped brightly colored cocktails decorated with tiny umbrellas and orange slices. Mick Chambers, publican and loyal cricket fan, had gone all out tonight.

  Chloe’s face lit up when she caught sight of them advancing. As he stalked closer, Noah allowed himself the luxury of staring back, waiting for that precise moment when…Ah, there it was. Ruby-stained cheeks.

  “Ladies, I can tell from all the laughter there’s plenty of conspiring going on in this corner.” Flynn winked at the women.

  Chloe and Reagan giggled. Purdy waved off Flynn’s charm. “You only think we’re conspiring because of your own guilty conscience.” The twinkle in Purdy’s eyes showed she could match Flynn in the charm stakes. “We’ve been talking about the pictures our students have made for Noah.”

  Flynn chuckled. “I personally love the one with the picture of Noah holding his shoulder and blood pooling onto the ground with the words ‘Don’t get shot again.’”

  Chloe’s smile widened. “Hey, you leave my munchkins alone. You’re just jealous he got more cards than you.”

  Noah waved to Mike as he, Quinn, and Caleb walked through the main entrance. Reagan caught his gesture. The next minute, she and Purdy were up from their barstools and making a beeline to the restroom. He chuckled as his friends tracked the women with their gaze. Ah, ladies, you can’t run forever.

  Chloe sipped her frothy cocktail right down to the last bubble. The straw popped out of her mouth, and Noah had to force himself not to bend down and lick the teardrop of mango-colored milk from her bottom lip.

  From the sound of Flynn’s sigh, he wasn’t faring any better.

  The little minx had the gall to lower her gaze. If it wasn’t for her lips twitching, he might believe her picture of innocence. Right after he bought that bridge to bloody nowhere.

  With perfect timing, he and Flynn sat on the two vacant barstools, boxing Chloe in snugly between them.

  She sat up straighter, eyes wide. The thrill of capture was an intoxicating drug for some women. Their sub amongst them.

  Noah traced a finger over her bottom lip, pressed down on its velvet softness, and dipped into her mouth. Warm. Moist. His suntanned digit so dark in contrast against the ivory of her chin. “Flynn, it seems our little teacher needs a refresher on the pitfalls of teasing.”

  “And to think I was prepared to share my bag of Jaffas with her.” Flynn sighed.

  Their sub huffed a delicate snort. “Yeah, right. You covet those lollies like they’re the crown jewels.” She bounced her gaze between both her men. “And hey, I can’t help it you guys get turned on by the most innocuous things.”

  Flynn shook his head and captured her hands in his. “Oh, luv, such blatant fibbing ensures a few rounds of our favorite new game.”

  “What game is that?” Suspicion lurked in the depths of her eyes, even as a smile seemed to battle to take hold at the edges of her mouth.

  Flynn grinned. “Spank a Yank.”

  Chloe choked on a laugh. “Is that so?”

  Noah nodded. “And I’m not in the mood for waiting. Mick has rooms for rent. Give us a minute
to sort one out and then you can trot your little bum upstairs. Unless you’d prefer we start here?” The air of challenge darkened his voice.

  “Well, you better move your own tush then…Sir.” Mischief danced in Chloe’s gaze.

  “That’s our girl.” Flynn raised their joined hands, kissing the back of hers.

  Too bloody right.

  Their girl. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.

  THE END

  WWW.FIONAARCHER.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I live in the sunny environs of Sydney, Australia, and share a house with my dog, Letty. Oh, and the flock of cockatoos that take over the backyard each afternoon, demanding their feed of Arnott’s Milk Arrowroot biscuits. Things get a little noisy around 3:00 p.m. in our household.

  My love of romance started back when I was twelve. My mum’s stash of Mills & Boon novels proved too much of a temptation. At fifteen, I decided the life of a romance writer was for me. Some, ah, years later, I’ve clawed enough gumption to make my dream a reality.

  When not sitting in front of the computer, you can find me in the garden or enthralled, watching a murder-mystery DVD. I limit myself to reading other authors’ work between writing my own stories. Books are my “shiny” distractions.

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue