HARBOR: Beards & Bondage
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HARBOR
Beards & Bondage
Rebekah Weatherspoon
Rebekah Weatherspoon Presents
Contents
Books By Rebekah
Praise for Rebekah’s Work
About This Book
Content Warning
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Beards & Bondage
About the Author
Books By Rebekah
BEARDS & BONDAGE
Haven
Sanctuary
Harbor
COWBOYS OF CALIFORNIA
A Cowboy To Remember
LOOSE ENDS
Rafe: A Buff Male Nanny
Xeni: A Marriage of Inconvenience
THE FIT TRILOGY (And Friends)
Fit
Tamed
Sated
Wrapped
SUGAR BABY NOVELLAS
So Sweet
So Right
So For Real
VAMPIRE SORORITY SISTERS
Better Off Red
Blacker Than Blue
Soul To Keep
STAND ALONE TITLES
The Fling
At Her Feet
Treasure
Praise for Rebekah’s Work
A COWBOY TO REMEMBER
“In an anxious time, A Cowboy to Remember is a weighted blanket of a book.” - Maureen Lee Lanker, Entertainment Weekly
RAFE
“‘Rafe’ is a breeze and a delight, a perfect book to read over and over again.”- Jaime Green, The New York Times Review of Books
HAVEN
“…the perfect balance of sexiness, action and angst.” - Alexa Martin, author of INTERCEPTED
SATED
“…I LOVED IT. The book was respectful of geeks, people with disabilities, people of color, and the BDSM community, and it was informative and entertaining, and it was funny.” - Carrie S, Smart Bitches Trashy Books
TREASURE
“This story is rich yet beguiling, magnificent yet down to earth, and intriguing yet heartwarmingly human.” – J.J., Rainbow Book Reviews
About This Book
Betrayed and set adrift…
Months before she’s set to walk down the aisle, assistant district attorney Brooklyn Lewis suffers an unthinkable loss. It’s bad enough her fiancé is violently taken from her, but along with her grief she must also process the fact that the man of her dreams was unfaithful. Friends and family want to see her heal, but Brooklyn doesn’t know how to move on from the trauma and deception until she discovers she’s not the only one broken by this tragedy.
A light in the storm…
Attorney Vaughn Coleman and his partner Chris Shaw have also lost the love of their lives, who was found lifeless in the same bed as Brooklyn’s fiancé, taken from them by the same killer.
Unmoored by grief, Brooklyn, Chris, and Vaughn fall into a relationship that both fulfills them and threatens to pull them under the waves of guilt, but they soon realize it may take the love of three people to bring their battered ships back to shore.
*This romance features a polyamorous relationship between two men and a woman, with BDSM overtones*
While this is a stand-alone novel, I do recommend reading the previous books, Haven and Sanctuary, to provide more context for the supporting characters and Silas and Liz’s farm.
Content Warning
Below you’ll find just a few notes about the goings-on of this story. If you consider such warnings to be spoilers, please do skip ahead. xoxo - Rebekah
● Death of romantic partners before the start of the story
● Graphic Sex Scenes with BDSM elements
● Discussions of death.
● A sexually fluid adult with unsupportive parents.
● Conversations with the police.
Dedication
To everyone who had big plans for 2020. HA! Amirite?
One
Vaughn
They don’t tell you what happens when you’re not next of kin. There are so many ways for the authorities and the family to keep you in the dark when you and your partners don’t put anything in writing. When you keep your declarations private, that privacy comes with consequences. It takes three days for me to find out that Corrine isn’t just missing, she’s dead. And then I have to tell Shaw.
I can’t get the details my brain needs to paint the full picture and I’m not crazy enough to press her twenty-two-year-old brother for more information when he finally tells me why Corrine hasn’t returned from her weekend trip with her girls. There had been no trip. Just another man and a motel off 93 North. Both she and the man she’d been with are gone now, shot to death in the bed they’d shared. The shooter has taken his own life in the very same room. That is all Nathan says when he calls to tell me Corrine isn’t coming back to the apartment we share in Boston’s Back Bay. That’s all the information I have to give Shaw when I tell him we’ll never see her again.
Now I’m sitting in the front seat of my Escalade as a few more mourners make their way up the short steps leading to her mother’s home in Roxbury. I shouldn’t be here. I never meant to come. That’s what I tell myself. That’s what I told Nathan when he told me to stay away. I just needed the address, because no matter how their mother feels about me or Shaw, Corrine Johnson was the love of our lives. Shaw and I weren’t invited to the service, but I can’t let this day pass, this moment, without at least trying to express my condolences to Corrine’s family. I’d planned to send flowers, but I’d waited until the last minute to order them. Drinking myself stupid as I’d listened to Shaw fighting his tears through my cell’s speaker function.
I found a florist nearby, thinking I’d drop them at the gravesite after the interment, but I don’t know where they’d laid her to rest. I only have the address to the house. I think of the night, two years ago, the first time I stood at the bottom of those short steps, waiting for Mrs. Johnson to welcome us into her home. The four of us cramming our way into the front room. Taking her gracious offers for drinks, unable to ignore the way she was glancing between Shaw and I.
The sound of Corrine’s nervous laugh when her mother finally came out with it and said, “So, which one of you is the boyfriend?”
Corrine had kept her eyes on her mother and her voice steady. “Both of them, mommy. The three of us are together.”
“Mrs. Johnson—” I started. But I didn’t get much further. I am still sure her screech of “What?! No. Absolutely not!” could be heard for blocks. Corrine did her best to explain that she knew—we all knew—it was an unusual relationship, but the three of us were in love. Mrs. Johnson wasn’t having it though, even when Shaw tried to tell her how much Corrine meant to him and how much I meant to the both of them. That had been her breaking point. Doesn’t matter how grown or successful you are, you can only push a Black mother so far before she’ll let you know exactly what you’re not going to do. She didn’t raise Corrine this way, she let us know. There were some colorful words I wanted to forget on the spot. Words that hurt Shaw in very specific ways, words that reminded him of the way his own father had rejected him.
She t
ook turns passing the blame between him and me. Me for using the fact that I was a successful attorney as a distraction. And Shaw for, I don’t know the fuck what. His obvious good looks that he must use to get whatever he wanted, from whoever he encountered, the Lord Jesus Christ’s desires for his Earthly children be damned. Before long though, she concluded that we were both sexual deviants out to manipulate her beautiful, intelligent daughter who had nothing but the brightest future ahead of her. A future with darling children and a husband. One husband. There was no way in hell she’d be spending her time shacking up with two men. Men grown enough to know that what they were doing wasn’t right.
She said all this thinking Corrine and I had met at a work event. She had no clue that we met at a rope bondage demonstration thrown by my former dungeon master. She didn’t know that Corrine was the one who refused to be denied, the one who wanted Shaw and I both. All or nothing. But none of that mattered. We’d told her what was important. We loved each other. We wanted a future together, the three of us. Mrs. Johnson was not having it.
Corrine came to our defense and that’s when I’d known it was time for me and Shaw to go. Corrine insisted on staying behind. “I fucked up,” she said as she ushered us back down those short steps. “Let me talk to her alone. She’ll come around.”
Mrs. Johnson didn’t come around. Ever. We won over her baby brother, Nathan, and her cousin, Justine. A few of her friends were on board when they saw how well we treated her and how happy she was. But Mrs. Johnson banned us from her home and all family functions. She told Corrine she didn’t want to hear about us. She didn’t want to see us. She wanted her daughter to want more for herself than fleeting erotic entanglements. Corrine’s words. Not Mrs. Johnson’s.
My mother overcompensated. Insisted that the three of us come to her when we needed motherly love. Shaw took her up on the offer, but Corrine was hesitant. “Your mom is so… she’s a goddess,” she told me. “I hope you don’t expect me to live up to Lynetta Coleman. My beans and rice will never be that good,” she joked. At least I thought she was joking at the time. While Shaw was calling her Lynetta as soon as my mom requested it, Corrine never fully warmed to my mom. She stayed overly polite like an intrusive guest afraid to overstay their welcome.
And now Corrine is gone, her last moments on this Earth spent in the arms of a man who isn’t me or Shaw.
I’ve tried for days not to think of that motherfucker. What his name is, what he looks like, what it is about him that stopped Corrine from telling Shaw and me the truth. What did she need that we weren’t giving her?
I let out a deep breath and tell myself to go home. Or better yet, call in for the rest of the week and go to Shaw’s. Selfishly, I cut off the ignition and step out of my car, pulling my trench coat tight around my six-foot-six frame as I face the frigid February wind. There’s no snow on the ground, but it’s still cold as fuck. I grip the bouquet of white lilies and roses in my other hand as I make my way across the street. The front door opens before I step onto the opposite sidewalk and a Black dude around my age steps out on the tiny porch, tugging on his coat over a security guard uniform. Mrs. Johnson is right behind him.
She freezes as I approach the walkway.
“What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Auntie!” The guy calls out as she shoves him out of the way and marches toward me. Mrs. Johnson isn’t a small woman, but most people are short beside me. I stand still, bracing myself for the next thing that will tumble out of her mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nathan coming out of the front door. I keep my focus on his mother as she storms down the walkway.
“Mrs. Johnson, I’m sorry to show up like this—”
“You damn right, you’re sorry. With your sorry, perverted ass. You really think you can show up here today, of all days. Like you’re someone anyone in this family wants to see.”
Just in time, I see her hand rearing back. Maybe I owe her the release of slapping the shit out of me, but I know the fire in her eyes. I’d only seen it once before when my aunt caught my uncle cheating. That sort of rage doesn’t end with a slap. Mrs. Johnson wants to fight me. She’s hurting in a way I’ll never understand, burying her oldest child way before her time. I don’t blame her. She swings at me as I lean back, avoiding the first blow. I step to the curb, knowing all I can do is retreat. She stops in her tracks, but she’s still seething.
“You wanna bother someone? Go bother Josh Delinsky’s family. He was just like you. All you bum-ass, no-good motherfuckers just wanted to use my baby girl. None of you wanted to make an honest woman out of her. Just take, take, and now my baby girl is gone. I hope you're happy, Vaughn. You selfish—” I miss the last word as she charges toward me again, even though her son and her nephew are now trying to get between us. Still doesn’t make her message any less clear. All of this is my fault.
“Mommy,” Nathan begs. “Stop.”
“Everything okay here, folks?”
I turn to see two obvious cops in their matching black slacks and ill-fitting peacoats. The shorter of the two has a pathetic-looking bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. The taller one has a mustache that makes it clear he’s down to violate all kinds of civil rights. He eyes me as his partner steps up on the sidewalk.
“My guy was just leaving,” Corrine’s cousin says, giving me that look, like ‘no matter the situation, brotha to brotha, I don’t want to deal with the cops right now.’
“What’s your name son?” White-Supremacist Stache says like he’s my dad’s age and not a hot ten years older than me.
“I was just leaving,” I say as I hand the flowers I have with me to Nathan. Before he can take them, Mrs. Johnson slaps them out of my hand.
“Get the fuck out of here and don’t you ever come back.”
“Why don’t you take a quick walk with us?” The shorter one says, stepping between me and Mrs. Johnson. I glance at Nathan as he mouths an “I’m sorry.” I glance at his cousin, who flicks his head in the direction of the street. He has no idea what the fuck is going on or who I am, but he’s telling me it’s time for me to go.
I turn and walk back across the street, the detectives following close behind.
“Nice ride,” tall asshole says as I open my driver’s side door. I look at them, wondering if they’re going to climb in with me. Across the street, I see Nathan get Mrs. Johnson back up those short stairs and into the house. Security-guard cousin is still standing in the yard. He might be late for his shift, but he looks like he’s sticking around to make sure I don’t start anymore shit. Or to be a witness if I get beat to death by the cops, whichever comes first.
“What’s your name?” Mustache asks again.
I bottle up the urge to flick my business card in his face as a distraction while I choke the other cop out. “Vaughn Coleman.”
“Vaughn Coleman! Just the man we were looking for.”
“Why?”
“Well, Miss Johnson’s little brother there—”
“What about him?” I don’t want trouble with the law, but I don’t want them bothering Nathan either.
“He was very helpful. And he told us that his sister had two boyfriends. One named Vaughn Coleman.”
“That’s me. How can I help you?”
“Well, this all felt open and shut, but we were looking into Miss Johnson and Mr. Delinsky a little more and it appears that our shooter, Ryan Morgan, had been sending Miss Johnson emails for some time. Emails about her relationships with various men.”
I can feel the confusion hit my face as I scramble my brain trying to search for that name. “I don’t know a Ryan Morgan. How did he know Corrine? She never mentioned him or any emails to me.”
“Not sure, but it looks like he’d been stalking her for quite some time. Keeping tabs are her movements on and offline. We just thought we’d check with you, see if you knew anything about. What about this other boyfriend?”
“Pretty sure he doesn’t know a Ryan Morgan either and he definitely wou
ld have mentioned a stalker if Corrine had said something. I didn’t know her killer’s name until you just told me. I didn’t know the name of the guy she was with until today either. I didn’t even know she was cheating before this all went down.”
“You’re saying this is how you found out?”
I nod, swallowing the pain and the anger that’s rising in my chest again. “I thought she was with her friends for the weekend. Her friend Autumn’s fortieth-birthday getaway.”
“Tough pill to swallow.”
“Is there anything else? ’Cause I should go.”
“That’s a good idea. Doesn’t look like Mrs. Johnson wants you anywhere near here. Care to tell us why that is?”
I swallow and push my glasses back up my nose. “In a perfect world, every family would get along with every significant other.”
“The Johnsons seem like great people. Mrs. Johnson is a saint. Any reason why they wouldn’t like you?”
“You’ll have to ask her.” I know the woman is upset, but I also know she doesn’t really think I would want any harm to come to her daughter. And neither would Shaw.