All In (Caldwell Brothers Book 5)

by Colleen Charles

  ALL IN

  Caldwell Brothers Book 5

  By

  Colleen Charles

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Foreword

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Epilogue

  Foreword

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  Prologue

  Twenty years earlier…

  Joslyn Monroe stands in front of the candy boutique and points to a basket of brightly-colored lollipops. Cherry, grape, orange. They’re all her favorites. How can she pick just one?

  “I want one,” she says, turning to her babysitter. “Daddy said I could have a piece of candy if I tied my own shoes every day this week.”

  “He didn’t mention anything about that to me,” Julia says with a frown that knits her perfectly groomed brows together. “Joslyn, we need to get back to the car. The meter’s almost out.”

  Joslyn stares at the candy with all the eagerness her five-year-old self can muster. “What if I stay here,” she asks, her juvenile voice dripping sugary sweetness to rival anything for sale in the candy store. “I promise I won’t go anywhere. Please.”

  Julia studies her young charge, wondering if her words are true or if she’s being manipulated by the most precocious little girl in the history of the world. After what feels like an eternity to Joslyn, Julia sighs and gives a hesitant nod, knowing she won’t be gone for more than a minute.

  “Okay. But stay right here.” Her voice is firm, letting Joslyn know she means business. “Promise.”

  “I promise.” Joslyn doesn’t even notice as Julia darts away, fumbling in her purse for more quarters.

  “Hey, there, Miss Joslyn.”

  The little girl jumps at the deep, unfamiliar voice. When she turns around, a man stands just behind her with a friendly smile on his face. She swallows. Her parents always caution her against talking to strangers, but if this man knows her name, then he isn’t really a stranger at all. Is he? She looks closer at him and wonders if she’s met him somewhere. Her dad has a lot of business associates who look similar to this man.

  “Hi.” She casts her eyes downward, not wanting to look him in the face.

  “Would you like a lollipop?” he asks.

  Is the grass green? Is the sky blue? Is a little girl wearing a gingham dress able to wrap anyone within three feet of her around her little finger?

  “Yes.” Joslyn nods and rocks back and forth on her patent leather Mary Janes. “Please,” she adds, remembering her manners.

  “Just come with me.” The man crooks his pointer finger in a come-hither motion. “Back here. We have lots of extra flavors this way.”

  Joslyn casts a nervous glance over her shoulder. Julia seems to have disappeared into thin air – and it surely won’t take long to get a lollipop.

  Oh, I want the cherry one. The color will match the checks on my frilly dress.

  “Okay,” she agrees, moving one step forward. “I really want a lollipop.”

  The man leads Joslyn into a dark alley behind the confectionary shop. A tiny shiver of fear snakes up her spine. Mommy and Daddy told her never to go anywhere with strangers. If Julia were here, it would be okay. But Julia hasn’t returned. She glances over the man’s shoulder, looking for her babysitter.

  “Where’s my lollipop?” Joslyn asks.

  The man doesn’t reply. He opens his mouth to speak, but before Joslyn can hear his explanation, someone grabs her from behind and pulls a bag down over her head. Panic and fear swell in her small body, and she begins to kick and scream. She feels herself being carried in strong, muscular arms that don’t yield to her kicks and punches. As everything fades to black, Joslyn cries. The heaving sobs wrack her tiny body, sending her into convulsions of terror.

  When Joslyn wakes up, she gasps. Iron bars surround her. It looks like a bird cage, and she’s the parakeet. She puts her hands to the bars and shakes them as she screams. She doesn’t like being alone. She doesn’t like being behind metal bars. The stale air permeates the dark, windowless room. Where am I? Joslyn’s head aches, and she can barely swallow past the arid lump in her throat.

  “Hey, little girl,” a deep male voice says. “You awake?”

  Heart speeding up even faster, Joslyn nods, her gaze sweeping over his hulking bulk. Muscles seemed to materialize out of his muscles. “Please help me.” A pathetic whimper escapes her tiny body. A whimper that goes ignored. “Please, take me home.”

  The man grins. More like a nasty sneer that doesn’t even come close to reaching his eyes. He steps closer to the cage, looming over the little girl for several seconds before squatting down so his piercing gaze can hit her at eye level.

  “No can do,” the man growls.

  He reaches between the bars of the cage and grabs one of Joslyn’s legs. Joslyn kicks and fumbles, but one swift tug lands her flat on her back with a painful thud. She trembles with terror as he removes her shoe and sock, tossing them carelessly to the floor before producing a pair of garden shears.

  “Hold still,” the man grumbles under his breath, his fingers hurting the bones of her ankle. “Can’t fucking listen or follow orders. Just like her fucking father.”

  “What are you doing?” Joslyn asks in a fearful, high-pitched voice. Her heart races again, and she can’t camouflage her shaking as her eyes fill with tears. This man can only be here for one thing.

  To do harm to her.

  “Gotta let Daddy know where you are, don’t I?” He shows her the shears and gives the weapon a little shake. Then he grins…a toothless smirk that does nothing to slow the pounding of her heart.

  The sharp blades of the shears flash in the dim light, and Joslyn screams as the man neatly clips the pinky toe from her right foot. Pain explodes in her body, and she sobs so hard she can’t breathe as the man puts some kind of sizzling substance on the stump. When he finishes, he drops her foot to the ground, rising to his feet with a feral grunt. The new river of pain floods her tiny body and she reels, clamping her eyes shut against this new horror. Joslyn can’t even watch as he wraps her severed toe in a piece of cloth and tucks it in his pocket before leaving the dim warehouse room.

  Alone and hopeless, she curls up in a ball and lays on the floor of the cage. She cries for what feels like hours, until her favorite dress is soaked with tears and snot.

  “Hey.”

  The sound of a voice startles Joslyn. But this voice isn’t deep or harsh – it sounds like…like…hers. Swallowing a ball of nerves and steeling herself for more torture, Joslyn crawls into a sitting position and peers out of the cage. A small boy crouches down in front of her iron prison, his tiny face lined with concern and empathy.

  Is he here to save me?

  “Hey,” Joslyn says in a shaky voice. “What
’s your name?”

  The boy rolls himself into an even smaller ball, his eyes peeking out from underneath his arm. “I’m not a-sposed to say.”

  “I’m afraid.”

  The boy doesn’t reply. He licks his lips, and Joslyn can see his own trepidation. Smell it on him.

  “They hurt me,” Joslyn whispers, wishing the little boy would understand what even that simple admission cost her. “Do you know why the bad men would do that?”

  “I’m sorry.” The boy puts his hand on the bars of the cage and grips Joslyn’s fingers. The small fingers are warm and dry and somehow comforting to Joslyn’s ragged nerves.

  “Please,” Joslyn whispers again. “Please help me get out of here. I want my daddy.”

  The boy’s eyes meet Joslyn’s. Even in the dim room, she can see that his are big, dark, and intense. They’re eyes that have seen a lot.

  Too much.

  “Please,” Joslyn repeats in a dry whisper. “Please, help me.”

  The boy opens his mouth to speak just as a wide door swings open, and two large, bulky men stand there. To Joslyn’s horror, the boy scrambles to his feet.

  “I’m sorry,” the boy whispers, taking several steps backwards. “If I help you, they’ll kill me.”

  As she watches the boy run away and the men bear down on her, she vows to never trust another man ever again. Men are evil people who do evil things.

  As the two large men approach Joslyn’s cage, she gives in to the tornado of agony and fear and allows the blessed darkness to overtake her.

  Chapter One

  Joslyn

  I pace back and forth on the bright, hardwood floor of my studio, Tribe of Amazons, glancing down at my watch. It’s only a few minutes before my new class, a women’s self-defense class, is scheduled to begin. I shouldn’t be nervous. I’ve been teaching women’s fitness and self-defense for the past few years, and I’m proud to make it my life’s work. But this is going to be different. It’s probably not really nerves, more like an excited anticipation.

  I can change the world, one client at a time. And I will.

  If one woman avoids being sexually harassed or violated in any way due to my tutelage, then I’ve done my job well. I take women’s safety very seriously.

  As I glance around the shiny floor, wall of floor to ceiling mirrors, and state of the art gym equipment, I can’t believe that I finally have my own studio. Especially after years of teaching in little dingy gyms and rented rooms. And the location is stellar. One hell of an awesome situation for walk-ins. I snagged a spot on The Promenade of the Armónico – one of the hottest casinos in Vegas. I can’t wait to see what kind of clientele I’ll attract. Most likely rich women in Stella McCartney for Adidas, or trophy wives striving hard to get their pre-baby body back.

  But just like I’ve done since I opened the year I graduated from college, I plan on taking on three students each quarter on scholarship. The local battered women’s shelter doles them out and sends the students to me. I’ve helped more than one woman get out of an abusive situation where if she stayed, she’d have the shit kicked out of her.

  Or worse.

  The door swings open and Taryn Caldwell strolls in, looking fabulous in a tight black sports bra and black leggings with mesh cutouts. She tosses her auburn hair over one shoulder and smiles at me. Like me, Taryn’s a business owner – she owns a trendy boutique on The Promenade – but unlike me, Taryn seems to live a charmed life.

  “Hey, you.” As Taryn tosses me a saucy grin, she stows her tote in a cubby and uncaps a bottle of water. “I thought I’d sign up for your class. Under duress.”

  I grin. “Oh, wow, that’s a compliment. I can’t wait to see who else shows up. This one’s full. It seems like I just posted it online, and the applications started rolling in.”

  Taryn nods and chuckles as if she knew it all along. “Well, I can tell you that Marcella and Haylee are coming with me,” she says, walking toward me. “And Pepper. You remember her, right? She’s home from Los Angeles right now, so she said she might swing by too.”

  “That sounds great. I’m glad to have all of you.”

  I can’t deny I love training women who are in peak physical condition. It’s harder to get the older, weaker women to a good place, but I consider it a challenge, and I always get it done. Come hell or high water, every woman gets a fighting chance with me, so they can use that chance fighting against any assailant.

  Taryn’s smile fades. “Yeah. I mean, Reagan says it’s not necessary…but I feel like I need to be able to defend myself.” She licks her lips, and it’s the first sign of trepidation I’ve ever seen in this sophisticated woman. Maybe I misjudged her. “And you’re like, so strong, you know? If anyone can teach me how to kick a man’s ass, I’m sure it’s going to be you.”

  “Thanks.” I try not to flush at the compliment but feel heat stealing into my cheeks anyway. “It’s always good to be prepared. A woman never knows what’s going to come at her out of nowhere.”

  Taryn walks across the floor with her bottle of water clutched in her hand. She sits down and begins to stretch, leaning over her long legs and grabbing the toe boxes of her sneakers.

  “I hope I’m not too early. Things got a little hectic at the boutique. I left Bailey in charge for a few hours.”

  “No, not at all.” I eye the door to see who’s going to walk through it next. “You’re totally fine. I like people who are eager to learn. It’s always great if I can get started on time. Although, there always seems to be a few stragglers to any new class.”

  “I just keep having these nightmares.” Taryn rolls her head back and forth on her elegant neck. “It’s crazy. I’d give anything to make them stop.” She looks up and gives me a rueful smile. “I know it sounds a little nuts, but something told me that if I could learn to defend myself in real life, maybe that would somehow carry over to my dreams.”

  “It doesn’t sound crazy at all.” I sink to the floor and cross my legs, sinking into my stretch. “It sounds smart and practical.”

  Taryn smiles. She seems relieved that I don’t think her idea is ridiculous.

  “Besides, every woman should know how to defend themselves,” I continue, lengthening my leg to focus on my hamstring. “Even if there’s nothing to worry about. You can’t put a price on peace of mind.”

  Taryn’s expression turns dark once again. “You know, this crazy psycho guy was…well, making my life really difficult for a long time, before I met Reagan. Things are better now.” She stops talking long enough to give her head a violent shake. “But I still worry about him. I guess I’d just feel better being alone in a room with him if I knew how to protect myself.”

  “This class should help a lot with that.” I jump to my feet and flex my bicep, Rosie The Riveter style.

  Without testosterone, I can’t be as huge as I’d like to be, but I’m shredded. All of my muscles are defined and strong. Yoga, Pilates, running, it doesn’t matter. If it contributes to my physical perfection, I’m all over it.

  Taryn giggles. “If I can look even halfway like you by the end, I’ll stick with it.” She gets to her feet and stretches, leaning against the wall and bracing her feet on the floor. “And my sisters-in-law feel the same way. We just want to be able to protect ourselves, you know?”

  “Definitely.”

  The door swings open and I recognize Marcella Caldwell, the wife of the man who owns the Armónico, as well as Haylee Jacobs and Pepper St. Claire.

  “Welcome,” I say. “If you girls want to go ahead and get started warming up, that would be great. Make sure you all have a ball from the closet, a resistance band, and a big bottle of water.”

  They all nod and smile as they spread out in the room. As I look around, I feel a growing sense of pride and accomplishment. My class hasn’t even started yet, but I have a feeling that everything will run like a well-oiled machine. I make my way to the front of the room just as the door opens again and six more women rush inside, all clutchin
g designer bags and towels. I repeat the instructions to them, then take my place right in front of the big mirrored wall.

  “Okay, ladies.” I clap my hands together a few times to demand their attention. “Today we’re going to work on some exercises that will teach you flexibility and strength. After we’ve mastered a few of those, we’ll partner up and start working on defensive moves.”

  The women all nod. They’re somber, and I can tell they’re taking this seriously.

  “Any questions?” I call out.

  No one raises a hand, but they’ve got their game faces painted on.

  “Excellent,” I say with a grin as I reach down and press ‘play’ on my speaker system. In a matter of seconds, the intense strains of “The Mars Volta” fill the room. “Let’s get to work!”

  Chapter Two

  Troy

  I stand in the narrow hallway, waiting to see my best friend and employer, Nixon Caldwell. As the owner of the Armónico, Nixon shits power. He’s the best friend – not to mention the best boss – that a guy like me could ever hope to have.

  But not everyone in Las Vegas can be Nixon Caldwell. I’ve been working security for my entire adult life – almost ten years now. And at thirty, I know a need for greater security detail when I see it. I’ve been in Vegas for the bad times and the good. And right now, if Nixon doesn’t listen to me, I’m a little worried that a certain douche canoe might float down the river of pain without ever getting stuck in the current.

  Everything’s fucked – people are out of control. And Vegas seems to be the epitome of the crazy in the world. People come with money to blow, money for blow, and everything in between. The number of times I’ve had to break up fights between hookers and their crooked pimps right outside of Nixon’s fabulous casino is higher than Einstein could’ve counted.

  And right now, things are about to get worse. Taking a deep breath, I knock on Nixon’s office door.

  “Come on in.”

  I push open the door and make my way inside. Carol left early for an appointment, taking all signs of life with her. Nixon sits behind his giant, expensive desk with a brand-new MacBook Pro in front of him. He narrows his piercing blue eyes and focuses on the screen.