by Rose Haven
He got up and started to pace. He barely knew Jade. If he went alone, he risked blowing it altogether, but if he didn’t go, Jade would die.
His Conquiha.
It wasn’t possible. After every mistake he had made, he didn’t deserve a mate. He didn’t deserve a true love. He didn’t deserve Jade.
And Jade didn’t deserve to be in the middle of this mess. But he’d dragged her into this. And he’d do everything he could to save her.
Even if it meant his life.
And Cresher was older and stronger. So it really might mean his life.
The quarter moon barely lit the path to the banks, but Damien would never forget how to get there. Every step of that night was imprinted on his mind. The march to kill his brother. The fight. The moment he realized he couldn’t it. And the pain he felt after he realized what he’d done. He’d picked his blood brother over his brotherhood, and he’d lived with his guilt every minute of every day.
The ghost of his past slid through him, but there was no way that he would let Cresher go this time. Not with Jade’s life hanging in the balance.
Only one of them would walk away this riverbank alive tonight.
Jade was lying in the sand with her wrists and ankles bound. She was awake, and he could see her eyes dart around in fear. “Damien!” she screamed. “It’s a trap! Run!”
He tensed, but no one jumped out of the shadows. He ran to her and tried to unbind her. “You need to run, baby. You need to run in case this doesn’t work out.”
“Damian.” She grabbed his arm. “It’s a trap. What are you doing?”
He cupped her chin. “Run. Be safe. For me,” he whispered.
The shadow flew at him in top speed, and they both tumbled on the bank. When they separated, Cresher crouched down in the sand. “Brother. So nice of you to join us. Unfortunately, your girl isn’t going anywhere. I’ve already started the ritual.”
Damian swiveled his head and stared at Jade. She was on all fours, and he saw her dry heaving on the banks. “What have you done to her?” he whispered.
“You took my demon. I can’t raise another one. But she’s immune to powers. And so she can host one.”
“No!” He ran to her side, and tilted her chin. He could see the shadows battling inside her. “Jade. You have to fight this.”
“She is mine, hybrid. And you cannot stop me.” Damien gripped her arms as the being spoke through her mouth. His raspy voice sent shivers down Damien’s spine, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Jade. A demon can’t take your body unless you let it. Fight it. Whatever Cresher did to you doesn’t matter. You have to fight this, baby.”
“Damien,” she said faintly.
“No,” Cresher roared. He launched himself at Damien, and they sent sand flying as their bodies tore across the banks. Strength battled strength as they dug into each other’s flesh. Something glinted into the moonlight, and Damien roared when a blade pierced his arm.
He broke away and grabbed his wound. Panting, he knew that Cresher was stronger than him. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t have to, Damien. You are my blood. Join me. We’ll rule the city together.”
“I’ve heard those words before,” Damien muttered. “All it did was prolong your life. Tonight, I will end it.”
“Damien.” Cresher looked at his brother with pain in his eyes. “I don’t want to kill you.”
“Only one of us is leaving this place alive,” Damien said. “This ends tonight.” He spared one more glance at Jade and saw the shadows overtaking her pupils. She was losing.
With a roar, he launched himself at Cresher. His brother’s speed and strength overpowered him, but Damien had one last trick up his sleeve. Just as his brother reached up to twist his neck, Damien pulled out the letter opener. He shoved it into his brother’s chest.
Cresher roared and stumbled back, but they both knew what had happened. “No,” he muttered.
“Saved a little demon poison just for you,” Damien muttered.
Cresher clutched at his chest and stumbled. “What have you done, brother?” he gasped.
Damien shook his head. “I thought this would hurt, Cresher. I thought losing you was worse than anything you could do, but now I just feel sorry for you. You had a powerful sector of the brotherhood under your thumb, and you could have done so much. But you chose this instead. There’s nothing left for you here, Cresher. I’m sorry that it’s come to this.”
“Save me,” Cresher pleaded. “Please.”
Damien stepped over him to let him die. Jade had fallen on the sand and was convulsing. He immediately pulled her into his arms. “Fight this,” he whispered. “You are stronger than this.”
“She’s mine,” the demon hissed. “Worship me, and I’ll give you the world.”
“I don’t want the world,” Damien said. “I want her. She’s my tether. I’ve never felt this bond with anyone. I love her, and I won’t let you take her. She won’t let you take her. She’s so much more powerful than you.”
She gasped, and her body twisted at an odd angle. “Damien,” she whispered.
“Hold on, baby,” he whispered. “Fight this.” He bent down. “I love you, and I’m not going to lose you now.” Then he touched her lips with his and melted into her. She fought him at first, but after a moment, she started responding to him. He opened his eyes and saw the shadows retreating. Finally, she gasped and he felt the fighting energy leave him. “Jade?” he muttered.
“I’m fine,” she whispered. She pushed at him, and he helped her sit up. “God, I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks.”
“Jade, I’m so sorry. I should never have let you leave. I should have kept you safe. This is all my fault.”
She reached up and touched his face. “Stop. Stop blaming yourself for everything. I was confused and freaked out. I left on my own accord.”
He rested his forehead on hers, and for a moment, everything was right with the world. “I knew I loved you from the first moment I saw you. You were my responsibility.”
“You love me? You don’t even know me,” she whispered.
“I know that were ready to sacrifice yourself for me. I know that you are the strongest person I have ever known. I know that you are beautiful inside and out. There is nothing else that’s important.”
She smiled, and his heart melted. “I freaked out after we…well, you know. I’ve never felt anything like that. It was intense and terrifying. And I’m just a simple girl. I don’t do intense and terrifying. I sell old books.”
“You do so much more than that,” he murmured.
She laughed. “I do love you. I’m just a little scared.”
He kissed her. “You take all the time you need, little one. I’m not going anywhere.”
“And Cresher?”
“He’s dead, baby. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. And you don’t have to worry ever again. I’ll take care of you.”
He held her until she regained her energy, and then he walked her back to his place. His Conquiha would never be alone again.
Chapter Six
Damien stood at the table of his brothers with Jade in the shadows. “Brothers,” he murmured. “We’ve had an amazing six months. We’ve disbanded the demon’s nest. We’ve destroyed the demon. And last week, we destroyed Cresher. It should have been done years ago, and for that, I can only beg your forgiveness. But we’ve proven that we can protect this city.” He looked at Jade, and she came out to take is hand. “With your permission, I’d like to continue running this sector with my queen by my side. Jade is my Conquiha, and I’m going to marry her.”
The table of men stood and clapped their hands, and he squeezed hers gently. His life was full of darkness, but she was his light. And although there would always be dangers around, he knew that his brothers would always be there for him.
The Slavante Brotherhood protected humanity. Preston protected Sierra. Cole protected Lana.
And now he would love an
d protect Jade for the rest of her life. And he knew that she would do the same for him.
THE END
Cowboy Romance
Sally and Evan: Clean Slate
Book One
Rose Haven
Sally and Evan: Clean Slates
Casey Bishop
Casey Bishop sat in the hallway of the courthouse, waiting to be called for her testimony. Her palms were sweaty and her stomach, though empty, rolled and pitched. It was all she could do to keep the piece of toast she’d managed to choke down this morning from coming back up. She knew she was doing the right thing, the only thing she could do to right her wrongs and start a new life. A life free of Joey Masso. The only man who’d ever claimed to love her.
“Miss Bishop, they’re ready for you,” the bailiff said, holding the massive oak door open for her. Casey rose on wobbly legs and walked into the courtroom careful to look straight ahead. The prosecutor had warned her against looking at Joey for fear that she’d lose her nerve. She took a deep breath and continued forward toward the witness stand, feeing Joey’s eyes burn holes into her back as she passed him.
She reached the witness stand, the bailiff gave her the oath, and she sat, still careful not to look at the defendant’s table where she knew Joey sat staring hard at her. The prosecutor walked slowly toward her, offering her a reassuring smile before launching into his line of well-rehearsed questions.
“Miss Bishop, can you please tell the court how you know the defendant, Mr. Masso,” he began.
For the next forty minutes Casey was peppered with questions about her relationship with Joey, her boyfriend since the age of fifteen, her knowledge of his drug dealing and any role she had in his illegal activities. She admitted to knowing that Joey started selling pot at sixteen and moved onto cocaine by eighteen. How, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, he’d become the primary dealer in their small south Chicago neighborhood and was poised to take over the heroine distribution from some really big, really bad guys. She denied any direct involvement in selling, packaging, or transporting the drugs but was forced to admit that she did nothing to stop any of it either. She’d lived the lifestyle the money had afforded: nice clothes, nice dinners, nice cars. In the end, however, she’d grown wary of always looking over her shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d become tired of waiting for the police to kick in their door, or worse, for the rival dealers to do the same. When the federal agent had shown up at the library where she was studying for her chemistry final one year ago tomorrow and offered her a way out, she’d barely hesitated. Even if it meant losing the only “family” she’d ever known.
Casey had been orphaned at four, raised by her mom’s alcoholic sister and her loser husband. She had spent the next eleven years keeping a low profile, careful not to invoke the wrath of her aunt on a bender. She’d been clothed, fed and educated but never loved. Until she’d met Joey. They had been sophomores when they met and Casey had allowed herself to be swallowed by his attention like an affection-starved puppy. He’d promised her all of the things she felt her life lacked and she’d stayed in his cocoon for eight years. And now she was blowing it all to hell.
Sally Andrews
Casey stared out the window of the plane mentally getting acquainted with her new life. I am Sally Andrews, I grew up in Indianapolis, I decided to trade city life for fresh air… she repeated to herself over and over again. After her testimony against Joey, her life had become a whirlwind. He’d been sentenced to twenty-five years to life in prison, she’d been ushered to a safe house, given a new identity, and bundled onto a plane to Oklahoma. As the plane descended she felt her nerves start to buzz again. She was alone and even through all of the assurances the United States Marshal’s Service that she would be safe, she still woke in a cold sweat at night, sure she heard Joey at her door.
She stepped off of the plane into the small airport and was met by Deputy Marshal Susan Fields, a tall black woman with a kind smile and alert eyes. She ushered Casey to a waiting car and they began the drive toward her new home of Pawhuska, a small ranching town.
“I’ll be your point of contact if you should need anything,” Deputy Fields was saying, as Casey watched the dusty landscape pass by the windows. She was taken to a small apartment above a local bar which had been rented for her by the Marshal’s Service and was told the owner’s name was Buck Carter.
Buck. You didn’t meet too many people in Chicago named Buck. Casey was beginning to feel like she was dropped onto another planet. She gathered her small duffle bag and walked into the bar to introduce herself and get her keys. Might as well find a job while she was at it, she figured. Casey walked into the bar and stood just inside the door letting her eyes adjust to the dim light inside. The place was relatively small with seats for six at the bar and a scattering of tables arranged around what appeared to be a small dance floor centered by a jukebox currently wailing some country song about lost love. Casey approached the bar and a skinny man in his sixties with a ponytail and a lazy left eye straightened from his task of stocking the beer coolers.
“May I help you,” he asked in a gruff voice.
Here we go, Casey thought.
“Yes. I’m Sally. Sally Andrews,” she said and the name sounded foreign on her tongue.
“Ah yes, my new tenant,” Buck said. “City girl, eh?”
Casey was taken aback at first but then realized her lack of southern accent and her current attire of yoga pants and Sketchers gave her away. She added clothes shopping to her mental checklist. If she was going to try to blend in, she needed some cowboy boots STAT. She made small talk with her new landlord and was grateful that he didn’t ask many questions. He seemed to understand that she liked her privacy.
“There’s not much up there,” Buck started. “A small table, a few chairs, a couch and a bed. No TV but there’s a radio, fridge and oven. Not very pretty or nothing but it’ll keep you warm and dry.”
“That’s ok,” Casey replied. “I don’t need much. Except maybe a job. You know of anywhere that’s hiring?”
“Well actually, I’m looking for someone to replace my bartender Rosie. She goes back to college in Tulsa in a few weeks. You ever done anything like that,” Buck asked.
“I used to do some waitressing in high school,” she replied.
“Well then, you’re hired,” Buck stated.
Casey was, again, surprised. “Just like that,” she asked.
“Well seein’ as you’ll be livin’ upstairs, I suppose I’ll know where ta find you if’n you don’t show up one day,” he said with a smile.
“Very true. Well thank you sir. When should I start,” she asked.
“What’s today, Sunday? How ‘bout you come in Friday? Take a few days to get yourself settled and learn your way around town? And Sally? ‘Sir’ makes me sound too respectable, call me Buck.”
“Sounds great Buck. Where’s the nearest grocery store?”
Evan
Sherriff Evan Cole strode into his office on Monday morning, the smell of the brewing coffee setting his stomach rumbling.
“Mornin’ Leeann,” he greeted his dispatcher with a tip of his Stetson.
“Mornin’ Sherriff,” she replied, getting up to fetch his coffee.
“Anything I need to know about,” he asked.
“The mayor’s secretary just came by and dropped off the new budget proposal for you to look over,” Leeann said, following Evan into his office and setting his coffee on the desk.
“Great, can’t wait,” Evan growled. “You’d better keep the coffee coming if you expect me to stay awake reading that damn thing.”
Evan folded his large frame into his chair, shuffling through the few messages on his desk before grabbing his coffee mug and leaning back to prop his long legs up on his desk. He grabbed the budget report and began to leaf through it. He hated this part of the job.
Originally from Texas, Evan had grown up on a ranch. His parents had struggled to make ends meet until one of th
e local oil companies had asked to drill a test site on their land. Evan remembered standing next to his father, mimicking his stance, arms folded across his chest. He was nine years old. He watched the big drill pierce the ground and thick, rich, black oil bubbled to the surface. It was the only time in Evan’s life he’d seen his father genuinely smile.
Things looked up for their family after that, his father was able to purchase newer and better equipment, more horses and more cattle and the money never seemed to run out. Their happiness lasted only five short years until Evan’s mother, Marie, fell ill and died. Evan was fourteen. His father, unable to drag himself from the despair of losing his wife, sold the ranch in Texas and moved Evan to Oklahoma. He bought a ranch there almost three times the size of the one in Texas and spent his remaining years attempting to work himself into an early grave.
At seventeen Evan altered his birth certificate and joined the Army. He wanted out of the big, empty house, he wanted to see the world. He saw Afghanistan. At the end of his second tour, he was called home. His father was dying. By then, he’d seen enough death he didn’t expect the site of his sickly father to bother him. They’d never been particularly close even before his mother had died. But when he came home and stepped into his father’s bedroom, he felt as though his legs might give from under him.
His father had been a big man, as tall as Evan’s six feet four, but heavier around the middle. Now though, John Cole looked small and shriveled under his blankets and it was all Evan could do not to stare slack-jawed at the older man. Right there, Evan decided not to reenlist at the end of his contract and came home to care for his father.
He took on the daily duties of the ranch with the help of the guys who’d been working for his dad for the past several years while he’d been away. He worked hard during the day and slept harder at night. He looked in on his father and called in every doctor and nurse that he could find. John Cole died six months to the day of Evan’s coming home. Evan was twenty-five. After that he worked even harder, his way of grieving the father he never really knew.
