No Strings Attached [Climax, Montana 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “What’s next?”

  “I take you into town, implying I’ve done some aggressive questioning out here. You denied everything, but I still lock you up while I check things out. Lila needs your services, and demands you go free. I let her pick you up, with the warning I’ll be watching you. You’re angry, and act up enough that the townsfolk think it’s possible you could go against her.”

  There was no way Houston wanted to be paraded into town. Lance MacDougal’s cream had stopped the worst of the itching, but his face still looked like one of those crazy quilts with the weird stitching. Maybe the Sheriff would take them in and out quickly. He swallowed bile. If he had to, he would tough it out to keep that feisty little wildcat safe.

  “In other words,” said Jet grimly, “you’re making sure by the time Lila’s parents return, nobody will want us here.”

  “You do things right and we’ll catch him in action,” clarified Gibson. “At that point you’ll be heroes.”

  “I don’t need to be a hero,” said Jet grimly. “I have my own reasons for doing this.”

  Gibson narrowed his eyes. “I’m warning you, if you hit him, unless you’re protecting Lila or defending yourself, I’ll arrest you.”

  “It’ll be self-defense,” promised Jet. “I know how to handle bullies. He’ll take the first swing.”

  “What if he has a knife or a gun?” asked Houston.

  Jet suddenly flashed a blade, one Houston hadn’t seen before. Jet widened his lips into a false smile. “First problem solved. Perhaps the good sheriff will point me in the direction of a pistol that can be concealed and not drawn unless necessary.”

  Sheriff Gibson stared at Jet until the knife disappeared. “You sure you’re not related to Lance MacDougal? He’s always got a number of knives stashed on him.”

  “Not as far as I know,” said Jet.

  “I’ll need your complete legal names,” said Gibson to Houston. He pulled out his notepad and pencil.

  Jet frowned. “Houston’s family—”

  “Is my problem.” He shared a speaking glance with Jet. “Name’s Roger Sheldon Simpson. Parents are Bettina and Sheldon Simpson of River Oaks, Houston. They’re called Bitsy and Jim. Don’t ask me why because I haven’t a clue,” he added.

  “River Oaks? Didn’t some of those Enron crooks live there?” asked Gibson.

  “Yep.”

  Gibson waited, but when Houston didn’t say anything more, he scribbled in his book, closed it, and slipped it in his pocket.

  “You two want to scuffle with each other, or do we have a two on one? This has to look good.” Gibson looked to Jet for an answer.

  Houston had been wanting an excuse to hit someone all morning.

  “Why, thank you, Sheriff, I’ll go first.” He stepped forward and applied his right fist to Gibson’s jaw. The sheriff’s head snapped back. “Son of a bitch!” He grabbed his hand, hoping he hadn’t broken anything. Gibson had a granite jaw. Instead of the sheriff going down, all it did was piss him off.

  “You idiot!” Jet grabbed him. “You don’t hit the law. Didn’t you learn anything on those oil rigs?”

  “I learned I had a better chance of surviving if I hit first and answered questions later.” Houston shrugged at Gibson while flexing his sore hand. The man narrowed his eyes at him. “Oopsie.”

  Gibson gave a parody of a smile. “You asked for it.”

  He had the look of one who enjoyed a good fight. Not to hurt necessarily, but to challenge. Houston accepted the inevitable and turned his undamaged side toward the sheriff.

  “Watch the scars,” he said.

  Gibson swung his fist. Something exploded on the right side of Houston’s face. Jet caught him before he hit the ground. He moved his jaw with his hand, making sure it wasn’t broken.

  “Damn, Sheriff, you got a kick like a mule,” he said with admiration.

  “Next?” Gibson replied, baring his teeth at Jet.

  “Make it look good,” said Jet.

  He telegraphed his swing, rather than jabbing. Gibson easily blocked his fist and the blow glanced off. Jet’s head snapped back a moment later. The sheriff set his knuckles on his hips and grinned down at them.

  “Roll around in the dirt to make it look like I dragged you.”

  “When this is over,” said Houston, rolling as ordered, “and I’m all healed, we’re going to have us a little mano-a-mano.”

  “Can’t wait,” said Gibson. “Even better would be a little two on two. Bring in my brother Ty and the four of us can have a little fun.”

  “You’re on,” said Houston. He gave Gibson a good look before accepting the arm up.

  “Time to face the music, boys.”

  Chapter 28

  “What the hell is this about, Josh?” demanded Lila, climbing out of her truck. She stomped across the park toward the sheriff. “I’m visiting my grandparents and someone comes rushing up to tell me my hired hands are in jail! For what?”

  “You sure you want to do this in public, Lila?”

  She looked around. It was lunchtime, and her yells had pulled people out of the diner and barbershop. She was too furious to care.

  “Yes, I want to do this in public! Why are my hired hands locked up in your jail?”

  “Deputy Chambers ran their info. One’s been in jail for assault, and the other’s got an outstanding warrant for auto theft. That was before they both assaulted me.”

  “What? I don’t believe it!”

  Gibson pointed to his jaw, which was starting to turn color. She’d seen enough fights, and been in more than a few of them. She recognized the signs of a fist to the jaw.

  “Fine, I believe someone hit you, but not the other stuff.”

  “Doesn’t matter if you believe it, Lila. They’re both locked up, nice and tight.” He started to walk away.

  “Hold it just a minute, mister!”

  She grabbed his arm. It was solid muscle. He was only a few inches taller, but his eyes said, while he might be her cousin, right now he was the law. She stuck her hands behind her back so she wouldn’t grab him again, or stick her finger in his belly. She’d learned that trick from her mom and Aunt Marci. They said men didn’t like it, which was partly why they used it on their husbands.

  “Sheriff Gibson, I hired those men to work on my ranch. If they’re sitting in your jail, I won’t get any work out of them, and you’ll have to feed and guard them. Day and night.” He lifted an eyebrow. She thought furiously, trying to think of what else would sway him. “You’d be harming a local business. Can’t they stay on the Circle C and work?”

  Gibson looked across at the diner. His belly rumbled. He sighed.

  “My annual physical’s coming up and I hate needles. Don’t want your momma holding a grudge.” He rubbed his stomach. “If you’ll sign off on responsibility for them and put up a bond, you can spring them. But if they’re caught one foot past the town line, I’m locking them up.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice. “And then you’ll have to ask your family for help.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

  “I don’t want thanks, Ms. Frost. I want a five thousand dollar bond. Each.”

  She blanched. “Ten thousand dollars? Isn’t that a bit steep?”

  “Assault, theft, and they both took a swing at me.”

  “I don’t have access to that much money!” She looked around, frantic. She was not going to ask her family for anything! “What about the ranch truck? It’s worth that much. And if you’ve got it, they won’t be able to sneak away.”

  Gibson looked toward the diner again. He rubbed his jaw, wincing.

  “Please, Josh! You know how much I need to prove myself!”

  “Fine. The truck stays in the lockup. Take care of the paperwork. I’m going to eat.”

  She reached for him, then pulled her hand back. “How will the office know what you told me?”

  Josh snorted a laugh, then made a show of looking around. Lila did the same. There were a lot mor
e people around than she’d realized. Oh God, she’d done it again. Once more, she’d made a scene in public. When she got Jet and Houston at the ranch she was going to tell them off! Why didn’t they think before they…

  All of her indignation sank into the ground. She hadn’t thought before acting all those times, either. Why would she expect them to?

  Because Jet said he was always in control, and Houston seemed the same.

  “I’m sure the office is well aware of everything,” said Josh. “You were loud enough they could hear you through the open windows.” He tipped his hat. “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

  She watched his broad back as he strolled across the street to the roadhouse. The snickering crowds parted for him.

  “You sure you want a couple criminals staying with you, Lila?” asked Tom just before Josh reached him.

  The sheriff stopped, turning his head to look over his shoulder to hear her reply. She lifted her chin, and her voice.

  “My hired hands are not criminals. Being arrested doesn’t mean you’re guilty. And neither does spending time in jail.”

  Tom’s lip twitched. He pulled the door open for the sheriff. “You should know about that,” he replied. “How many times did Sheriff Max Junior toss you behind bars for a couple of hours for fighting?”

  More snickers in the crowd straightened her spine. “Don’t forget, your son was in there with me half the time!”

  “That’s because you dragged him into it.”

  Half an hour later she stomped out of the sheriff’s office followed by two men with rising bruises. Houston used his cane to climb into the back seat. He fumbled it, and had to bend over to get it off the floor. She slammed the truck door behind his ass. He must’ve been hurt when he attacked Josh, as he’d limped to the truck. Jet reached for the driver’s door. She pushed his hand aside.

  “Oh, no, you don’t,” she said. “You’re not driving my truck.”

  “Lila, calm down.”

  She rocked back on her heels. “Calm down? Calm down!” She shoved him in the chest with her palms. He didn’t move, but at least she got her point across. “Who hit Sheriff Gibson while resisting arrest? Who was questioned about an arrest record you did not report on your employment form? And you expect me to calm down?”

  “Yes, I do. I thought you were the boss. Bosses have to be calm.”

  She shoved out her jaw. He was right, dammit. Three breaths and she was calm. Or at least, calmer. Her heart still pounded in her chest with the adrenaline of hearing about them being arrested. She might bluster about losing hired hands, but Jet and Houston were a lot more than that. And she didn’t just mean what happened when they got naked.

  “You’re damn right I’m the boss,” she said. “I should fire your ass, throw you both in your truck, and tell you to get the hell out of town!”

  “But you won’t,” said Houston from the back seat. “You need us. And anyway, we’re not allowed to leave.”

  She turned around to speak to him through the open window. “Right now I’m thinking I should’ve hired Tank Stephenson instead of you two.”

  “You wouldn’t be having fun at night like you’ve been doing with us, would you?” Houston put on a sad puppy dog look. It didn’t sway her one bit.

  “Every time he tried to kiss me I punched him. So the answer is, no. And anyway, he’d live with his mom, like in high school. Now get in the passenger seat, Jet, or walk to the Circle C!” She climbed in and started the truck.

  “Any groceries you need, ma’am?” asked Houston way too innocently. “Like, maybe, blueberry muffin mix?”

  She looked in the rearview. As expected, she saw his smirk at reminding her of yesterday’s breakfast mess. How was she going to get back at them for this? Then she remembered the day Jet arrived. She’d landed ass first in something she didn’t want to touch even with a shovel.

  “If you’re healthy enough to hit the sheriff, you’re healthy enough to clean out the hog pen.”

  Houston’s jaw dropped. His eyes widened. “Aw, Lila! Come on, boss. The stink of that place makes my eyes water thirty feet away!”

  “Then it obviously needs shoveling out.” The truck rocked as Jet climbed in. “Jet can help you.” Their matching looks of horror and disgust made her laugh. “You look like I’ve just ordered you to walk off the edge of the world.”

  “I hate pig shit,” declared Houston. “It sticks in my nose. I’ll be smelling it for a week!”

  “Who says you’ll be done in a week?”

  Lila loved the way his eyes went even wider. She could really get into this. They thought they were so dominant and yet a simple chore had them going all squeamish and girly. It felt so good to put the boot on the other foot.

  “Whoa!” said Houston, lifting his hands. “The physio gave me exercises to do.”

  “Digging and shoveling will stretch your muscles. But don’t worry, I’ll check in with them first just in case. Of course, I’ll have to explain why. And for that, you’ll have to tell me what the hell happened!”

  “Nothing happened,” said Jet. His tight jaw suggested otherwise.

  “All three of you look like your fists connected with somebody’s jaw.”

  Jet stared back, stone-faced. It was just like when she was younger. The guys would have fun getting bruises and scrapes, and they wouldn’t tell her what they did. They’d look at each other and snicker, leaving her out totally. It hurt when she was fifteen, and it hurt just as much at twenty-five.

  No, it hurt more. Those were just her cousins who cut her out. These were men she’d been intimate with. Men she’d thought cared for her. Obviously, she was wrong.

  Fine! She never really thought they would stay with her anyway. She had the ranch, and her family, and that was all she needed. If she hadn’t found anyone to start the next generation with by the time she was thirty, she’d head to Missoula, or maybe even farther, and use a sperm bank. That meant no male was required to be in the picture at all. She’d create her own family.

  “If you can’t get the stink out, you can shower and sleep in the barn,” she said. “I don’t want you stinking up the house. You’re big, tough, fighting men. You can put up with a bit of stench. I’ll set your food out on the front porch. After you’re finished the job, there’s special soap that’ll get rid of the stink. It costs a lot, so I don’t want to waste it. Regular soap will take most of the smell off at the end of each day. The faster you shovel, the sooner you’ll stop stinking.”

  The dead silence that greeted her words gave her a sense of satisfaction. She’d never had a chance to get back at her cousins. Even now they treated her the same, expecting her to act like their girlfriends or sisters. She would never be a sweet thing, hanging on a man’s arm, looking up at him with awe at how wonderful he was. Nope! She could do damn near anything they could. Some things even better.

  She looked in the rearview at Houston, and then sideways at Jet. Her satisfaction melted like ice cream in August. They were disappointed in her. Her spirits crashed. She fought a chin wobble then swallowed hard. That hypersensitivity, picking up what people thought without them having to say a thing, was a damn nuisance. Her ribs felt constricted, as if she wore a bra three sizes too small.

  The hog pen did have to be done, they were hired to work, and she’d given them orders. She didn’t have to be nasty about it, though.

  “That was a joke,” she said. “We’ll stop at the Mercantile and get you some of those disposable Tyvek overalls and booties. You can throw them out at the end of each day, and then you won’t stink.”

  “Does that mean we’re allowed to sleep upstairs?” asked Houston, pouting. “I can see you not wanting to put your nose right next to my head at night if I’m ripe, but there’s other beds, right?”

  Damn, she hadn’t thought this out. If she wanted to enjoy using up those condoms she couldn’t kick them out of her bed.

  “The sleeping arrangements won’t change,” she said. “With the two of you, you should
be finished in a day, two at the most. I’ve got some things to do off the ranch, or I’d be digging beside you.”

  “Don’t you think you should stay close?” demanded Jet.

  “Why?”

  “In case we have questions.”

  “About shoveling manure into wheelbarrows and dumping it?”

  “What if we find something?” asked Houston. “Like, human bones or gold nuggets.” She met his eyes in the rearview mirror. He winced and shrugged. “Okay, stupid question. But if the phone rings, or somebody need something, or drops by, we can’t do anything about it if were covered in”—he shuddered—“porcine excrement.”

  She looked to Jet for confirmation. His expression said he agreed.

  “Fine,” she said. “I won’t leave the ranch until you’re done. There’s always lots to do.”

  “That Gibson’s got quite the punch,” said Houston, rubbing his jaw. “You ever seen Josh and his brother in a fist fight?”

  “Of course. Pretty much every wedding or town party ends in a friendly contest.”

  “Are they any good?”

  She stifled a laugh. “Why do you think Josh is sheriff?”

  “Because he was elected?”

  “Yes, but he got in a lot of trouble growing up. When your dad is the sheriff, and your granddad is the judge, and a mean, miserable, son of a gun he was,” she added, grimacing, “you learn how to fight.”

  “Well, dang!” Houston gently touched his jaw where color was appearing. “Wish I’d known that about three hours ago.”

  “What made you think you’d fight with the law, and win?”

  “Who said anything about thinking,” he grumbled.

  Still chuckling, she parked her truck behind Tanner’s Ford Mercantile. The three of them went in together. She didn’t quite trust Jet not to hotwire her truck and drive away.

  “Heard you got the drop on young Josh,” said Tanner to Houston. “And then he dropped the both of ya.” He sent his glare to Jet. “I liked you, boy, but I don’t cotton to thieves or bullies. Miss Lila,” he added, nodding politely.

  “Did you hear why he did it, Mr. Tanner?” she asked.