by Emily Bowie
Andrea is scandalously dressed, her tits practically out for everyone to see, there is a man choking on my couch, a dildo lying beside him, and lines of white powder on my glass table.
I must be dreaming; this is not the plan. I know enough to realize right away that Jewels is now implicated in my dealings. She was the one thing in my life that did not have rules or codes to live by.
I look back at Andrea, who looks like she is now in self-preservation mode. Her spine is straight, her mascara is wiped, and she is back in control of herself.
“Did she come to get another taste of your charm?” Andrea sneers, and I quickly see the two of them in each other’s lines of sight, ready to pounce. I need to get Jewels out of here.
“She’s still giving you her magical pussy after you took those pictures of her drunk at Brody’s?”
The moment it leaves her lips, I know she has been more hurt than I realized and Jewels will be the collateral damage. And I am the fucking idiot to do it.
“Oh, honey, don’t look too shocked. It’s Tyson’s way. I can email you the pictures if he didn’t show you all of them.” Andrea is smiling like she is talking about the weather to a best friend.
I want to ask her how the fuck she knows about them. I planned to destroy those. What the fuck was I thinking?
Jewels drops the beer, the cans causing a small hiss when they hit the floor. She begins to take small steps backward, looking betrayed and hurt.
“Jewels, wait, I can explain.” It’s lame, I know, but what else is there to say? I fucked up. I take a step toward the door, my hand already extended to catch her.
“Mr. Bennett.” The doctor walks in wearing street clothes, you would never know he’s an MD. And Jewels takes that moment to run away far from me. She doesn’t even chance a glance back.
Chapter 10
TYSON
“What’s his name?” the doctor asks. I look to Andrea, clueless. Andrea glares at me like I should be in the know before she stomps closer to us. The man is still being ignored, as if he is not dying in my living room.
My voice is laced with anger but I never raise my voice. “Why the fuck did you bring this asshole to my home?”
“This is Clay Cannon.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, acting like we are putting her out. I move my whole body slightly to look past Andrea at the suited man. That is not Clay Cannon.
The doctor ignores Andrea’s and my bickering and goes to assess the man. I assume he’s looking him over and checking whatever he needs to but Andrea is still in my direct eye line. I can hear him beginning to open his large leather bag filled with supplies. He is calm and collected. Not even sweating by the seriousness of this house call. That’s why I like him. Calm under pressure.
Looking to the doctor, I ignore Andrea. “I know that is not Clay Cannon. So identity is unknown.”
Moving closer to the couch, I help the doctor turn this fat mess onto his back and steady his movements. The face that looks back at me has me cursing under my breath.
This guy is one of ours. Richard McKinley’s right hand man to be exact. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to rein in my temper.
*
Scrubbing my hands down my face, my eyes feel dry and they’re bloodshot from the lack of sleep in the last thirty hours. Fuck me. My dull brown eyes stare back at me with no life left in them. I’m still in my same clothes that look wrinkled and worn. I look like shit. I think I might even smell a bit.
With effort I pull my shirt over my head, I’m past that five o’clock shadow look.
I want to punch my bathroom mirror but that would require effort. And right now all I want to do is have a shower.
That roly-poly on my couch has been a nightmare. Fucking Andrea. I shake my head as I think about what went down.
Why couldn’t Andrea have waited for my instructions? I was chosen to help her for a reason. Instead, she went off on her own, showing her naivety. How on earth she mistook our marked man, Clay Cannon, for someone else I have no idea. She could have chosen a million other people, but the one guy she found had to be the right-hand man for who our society had picked to support. We could have killed his campaign before it even got off the ground.
Not only was I forced to keep him alive, incriminating myself in the process, but I also discovered that hookers and blow aren’t his favorite hobbies. He has dirty judges in his pocket right and left all over the country. That type of power turned against us is bad business.
Getting into the shower, I let the scalding water mark my skin as it runs down me, dipping my head back to wet my face.
I need to know more to see how much this fuck up affects me. No one is safe around me until I know the extent of the damage done. I feel like I have no choice but to sever ties to Jewels, for now. The thought of her has my balls aching.
I stroke my dick in long strokes, needing the pain to go away. Images of her in my shower with me instantly come to mind. Selfishly, I need her here with me. She would know what I would need in this instant.
I can envision her big blue eyes looking at me with worry that I’m too stressed, as she would kneel down in front of me. Her fuckable mouth would open, those pink lips kissing the head of my cock. She would look up at me again just as she slowly takes my dick into her mouth, cupping my balls in her hand.
I groan out loud as if I can physically feel what her mouth would feel like. My strokes become faster and longer. She would like it when I wrap my hand into her hair, keeping a playful grip on her. Her lips would vibrate as she hums something to herself, then her other hand would go up to touch those perky tits. Before I can decide if I’d want to finish on her tits or in her mouth, she would deep throat me. But before I can let go she would remove her mouth and stroke me hard, sticking out her pink tongue so I can cum on it. My body convulses as I orgasm, my balls squeezing up tighter than ever before.
Holy fuck. I fall to my knees, spent, letting the water cascade over my body. I haven’t had that intense of a self-induced orgasm since I was a teen who found porn movies for the first time.
That is the last thing I remember before I wake up almost eighteen hours later. The red numbers on my clock tell me it’s seven AM, but I have no idea what day it is.
I hit the ground running, literally, I need a good run to figure out my next line of defense. I have to see Jewels.
Chapter 11
JEWELS
“You really going back there?” Mandy questions me as we stand in our kitchen. Her eyes are full of concern as she takes me in.
I’ve just come in from packing up my car. “Unfortunately,” I reply, blowing a few loose hairs from my face. “I figure someone else might be in the spotlight by now.” I shrug my shoulders, playing it off like it’s no big deal. But my stomach has not stopped flip-flopping and my heart has not stopped pounding since I walked away from Tyson, instantly deciding it was time to finally visit back home.
“Talk to Tyson lately?”
I still haven’t given her a good explanation about him. “I dropped off beer with a note.” I tell her, fabricating the note part. “And I haven’t heard from him since.” That part is true.
I don’t even want to be associated with whatever he has going on.
No man is that good-looking. It’s a pity his good looks were wasted on him. Why can’t a nice, play-by-the-rules man have those type of looks. Is that too much to ask for?
She walks over and pecks me on the cheek as she gives me a hug. I think she is just as worried about my return to Three Rivers as I am. I pull her in, breathing in the calm. “Make sure you come on back now.”
I giggle at her statement that is full of purposeful accent. “I wouldn’t dream of staying there.”
*
TYSON
Like a creepy stalker, I head over to Jewels’s work right around four thirty, hoping to catch her just as she is getting off. Walking around the rack of clothing, I’m ambushed by two floor girls.
“Hi,” one says as she curls her hair
around her finger.
“Can we help you?” The other one straightens her back, pushing out her tits. I look over their heads but don’t see Jewels.
“Is Jewels working?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
Immediately, I see a bit of a pout before it’s concealed.
“No, she’s not. We can help you though.”
“Can you tell me when she works next?” I give them my smoldering smirk that always seems to get me anything I want.
“We can’t give out information like that.” And one of them has the nerve to wink at me.
“I’m her boyfriend,” I lie, not wanting the attention they’re throwing my way.
“She’s a hermit.”
“She doesn’t have a boyfriend,” they say in unison.
I roll my eyes, seeing that I’m not going to get anywhere here.
Shaking my head, I leave without a word. I’ll just go to her house.
Which ends up being a bust. I wait there almost the whole fucking night and no one comes home.
Walking toward my doorway, I am so distracted that I am completely blindsided by a punch to the side of my jaw that has me tumbling back. Keeping my back to the door, I raise my arms to block the next punch. I am able to get my bearings slightly and land a hit to his kidneys, in hopes of slowing him down.
“Where is she?” he growls.
I have yet to get a good look at the guy. He looks big. “Who?” I know they are talking about either Andrea or Jewels. My lips are sealed anyhow.
“You know who, fucker. The hot little thing that was here the other night.”
“I don’t know who you’re talking about.” He gets right into my face. “Let her know that I’m coming for her.” And just like that, he leaves.
I kick the door closed, heading into my kitchen to get a bag of peas to put on my face. Plopping down on the couch, I tilt my head back, enjoying the coldness against my jaw.
“Don’t you look like a sight for sore eyes.”
I don’t have to open my eyes to know who is there.
“How the hell do you keep getting into my place?” I ask mildly, deciding to not really give a damn. It’s just an annoyance.
“Stop the self pity party, Bennett.” I can feel one side of the couch drop, telling me that she’s not going to leave anytime soon.
I’m pretty sure I only growl. I hate getting hit. It fucking hurts. As luck would have it, my phone rings just then, allowing me to ignore her. I don’t even bother picking up the frozen peas off my face before answering it.
“Yep,” I answer, knowing that ring is reserved for my brother Brody.
“You sound like a ball of fun right now,” he comments, and I can hear his chuckle that he’s trying to suppress.
“I thought you couldn’t use your phone while on mission.” I sound bored, but in actuality I’m happy to hear from him. I go to bed each night hoping he comes home from his tour intact.
“Yeah, about that. I guess I could have used some more practice.” I can hear the strain in his voice as he tries to make a joke. Sitting up, I toss the partly melted wet bag onto Andrea as I head out of the room.
“Is everything okay, man? Please say you’re not hurt.”
“Nah. I’m good. But they sent me home to recover. It’s minor really.”
“Where are you?”
“Sitting in Three Rivers watching Chase scare some poor girl across the street.”
“Why are you there?”
“Oh you know, misery loves company,” he sings the last part, trying to play it off.
“Well, this girl looks like she needs saving, so I’ll talk to you later. Just wanted you to know I’m home.”
“Text me tomorrow and let me know how Chase is,” I reply, happy to hear that Chase is already down there.
*
JEWELS
Waking up the next morning, I force myself not to think of Tyson. Thankfully, no more messages or texts from him. Yep, it’s been a whole twenty-four hours.
Pulling on my cutoff jean shorts, now I’m not talking about the fancy kind you buy, these are actually cut from an old pair of jeans, and pull on a peach and white striped T-shirt as I head to find Luke.
The house smells of bacon and eggs, my stomach rumbles, reminding me I need to eat. My nose leads me down the stairs into the massive homestead kitchen that has an island big enough for at least six people to sit comfortably.
“Morning,” I say to my brother as I round the corner, disappointment clouding me to see him cleaning up dishes, no extras anywhere to be seen. I lean back against the counter, hoping for at least a cup of coffee, but I can’t even see our old pot anywhere.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee?” I ask, still hoping it is a lead-in for where my food is.
“The pot cracked a few months ago, and I haven’t got around to replacing it yet.”
“Hmmm.” Is all I can manage. No coffee? I’m going to be a fun person to be around in the mornings, I can already tell.
“You gonna tell me yet why I had to come down here?” I ask, trying to mask my annoyance with an overly fake smile.
He looks at his watch, a piece of bacon hanging out of his mouth. “Soon.” Without another word he engulfs the small piece and walks out of the house.
I’ve been gone a year and I feel like my world has changed. I know it’s silly but I assumed Three Rivers, my family, and life in general would never change. When I lived here it felt like things stayed the same, and I thought it would have stayed frozen in time while waiting for my return. I never realized that the bubble around here allows for change; I had just never allowed myself to see it.
I felt like I would be welcomed with wide-open arms, the daughter who my mother lived through, the sister who her brother needs.
Instead, I’m greeted by an almost empty house. Since when does she go on holidays? My parents never went on holidays when my dad was still here.
Luke, who begged me to come home to help, seems to be fine. We have a new barn, strangers walking around, along with a big, burly bald guy who gives me the shivers.
I’m still waiting to hear what Luke needs me to do, but he’s been too busy doing who knows what.
And yet this all gives me a new sense of independence.
Being back home, the ranch roots in me instantly feel like they need to spread out. Maybe wanting to never return was too harsh of a judgment. My memories of growing up plague me, making me miss home more than I thought possible.
Grabbing a few cans from the recycle bin, I head into the underground cellar for my rifle. I haven’t felt her beneath my fingers for far too long. They long for the smooth, powerful touch.
Something about the fresh air and that weight of my gun over my shoulders has me smiling.
Getting to my targets, the grass has been freshly cut and a new backdrop of hay and wood have been set up behind my can bench for shooting.
The first shot is like music to my ears. My body welcomes its pushback into my shoulder.
It takes five shots but my three cans now rest on the ground. I’m a little rusty but overall not too bad.
“Look at what the cat dragged in,” an irritating, familiar voice sounds out.
Cocking my gun, I aim for a can on the ground, kicking it into the air backward.
“I had to see if it really was true.” Trevor’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard to me, and has me shivering.
“The ranch must be in worse shape than before. My offer still stands.”
I cock my gun again and turn around. I keep it aimed at his manhood. If my fingers slip, I’d hate to have to go to his funeral.
“Now, now, this isn’t the place to get all feisty.” He raises one of his eyebrows, trying to see how serious I am.
“Each time you come over to our property you seem to be getting a gun pointed at ya.”
“All right. Believe it or not, I was just checking to see if you were okay.”
“You better go before my fingers slip.” I wo
uldn’t actually shoot him, but I’m not below aiming for right by his feet.
He slowly begins walking backward out of the clearing, stopping just a few feet back. He comes in peace, my ass. That boy has never been up to any good, in my opinion.
Slowly, he brings a white envelope out of his pocket. Here is what I was waiting for. He holds it up slowly, like he is scared I will shoot him. Which, well, he should be. “I figured you wouldn’t hear me out, so I brought this.” He lets it fall from his hand, the paper swaying back and forth until it hits his foot before he slowly begins walking backward again. Reaching the trees, he turns his back to me and pretty much runs off my property like a scared child.
I reload my gun and hit the other two pop cans on the ground, destroying what remains of them before I stop. Trevor ruined my good mood. Family drama will be the death of me.
I hate that I want to go over to that envelope and see what’s in it. I debate if I should shoot it with my gun. My curiosity wins. Walking over, I see a picture has partly slipped out. Using my foot, I kick it to turn it over. Then I go with my first instinct and shoot it. Ripping it to pieces. But I can still see my relaxed, sleeping face. I know the picture. He took a selfie while I slept after the first night we were together.
My gun show has Luke stalking toward me.
“What on earth are you doing?” he tries to scold me.
“Blowing off steam.” I shrug; I used to do this all the time.
“You’re bringing unwanted attention is what you’re doing.” He points his fingers in Trevor’s direction.
“So what’s with the new barn and the scary looking dude?” I ask.
The look on his face almost says it all. I could never imagine his next words.
Chapter 12
JEWELS
“Luke, do you have shit for brains?” My eyes are wide; my hands are open to my sides. I do a three sixty around the property. “You sold every single one?”