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

by Reece Butler

  “He’s being mean to Granny!” whispered James hoarsely.

  “Not anymore,” said Houston.

  Jet grabbed Tank’s shoulder and spun him around. “Back. Off.” He had about six inches on him, but Tank had more bulk.

  “What’s your problem?” Tank demanded. He pulled his lips down in an ugly scowl.

  “I don’t like bullies,” said Jet, each word distinct.

  “I’m just talking to the old lady. And it’s none of your business.”

  “I’m making it my business.” Taking a risk at Tank attacking, Jet turned his back and hunkered down in front of James so they were eye to eye. “Houston and me, we work for Lila Frost. You know her?” The boy slowly nodded, his eyes flicking to Tank and back. “I bet you’re one of Lila’s cousins, which means we’re almost family. And that means I’m not going to let this mean bully do anything to you or your granny, and neither is my friend.” He held up his hand. “High five, buddy?”

  James grinned and slammed his little hand against Jet’s. His grandmother tugged him away, heading across the park. She walked so quickly the boy had to trot beside her. Jet turned his attention back to Tank. They had to provoke him. It wouldn’t be hard.

  “Got her preggers yet?” demanded Tank.

  The words stabbed Jet’s back like a dagger. He’d been disgusted when Josh Gibson told them Tank’s plan. Now, with the possibility of Lila being pregnant, it sounded even sicker. He stood, slowly uncurling.

  Tank might have more bulk, and he might have worked to get muscles in the first place, but there was a good chance he’d kept his shape by taking drugs. That could well affect his temper, making his fuse shorter than usual. Jet would use every weapon at his disposal.

  “I suggest you stop flapping your mouth before I close it with my fist,” he said quietly. “Stay away from that boy, his sister, and their grandmother.”

  “What did he say, Tank?”

  Three hangers-on had appeared without Jet noticing. That never happened. He was losing his edge from too much good food, sleep, and great sex. Either that, or his focus was off because he cared about Lila too much.

  “He said he’d punch me,” said Tank, sneering.

  Lila was safe with her aunt. If Tank wanted to start something, now was a good time and place to get the job done. Jet kept his hands loose at his sides, his muscles equally relaxed. Anyone looking at them would think Tank was tense and he was easy-going. But he said everything with his eyes. Tank sneered back, confident with his buddies behind him.

  “You better watch out,” warned Tank. “Strangers get in accidents around here.”

  “I’ve been here for weeks,” replied Jet easily. “I haven’t seen you before.”

  “You’re just here to take the money and run.” Tank’s sneer deepened. “Do you take turns, holding her down while you fuck her? How loud does she scream?”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  “Houston,” warned Jet. “It’s just words. Don’t do it.”

  Tank moved out of Jet’s range, using the excuse of talking to Houston. “You are one ugly son of a bitch. If I had to look in the mirror at that face every day, I’d shoot myself.”

  Houston’s back stiffened. Jet waited, ready, but Houston didn’t attack. He got that arrogant, know-it-all look that meant he was going to flay with words rather than fists.

  “Appearances are deceiving, pretty boy. I’d rather have a scarred face and a clear conscience than be ugly all the way to your shriveled black soul.”

  Tank shifted uneasily. “Shut up about my soul.” He looked at his buddies. “Asshole!”

  Jet remembered one of the families he stayed with. They believed their soul was part of them, and if they did enough bad things they’d get sucked down to the bottom level of hell in their present form. They were really great people, other than wanting him to believe he could redeem his past by praying on his knees when he’d much rather be sleeping. He knew otherwise. It had been drilled into him from birth that he could never be redeemed, so why try?

  If Tank believed in his soul, there was a particular movie scene which might mess with his mind.

  “You ever see that movie Ghost with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore?” he asked.

  “What?”

  Houston caught on. Jet had told him about this family, and their belief the scene in the movie was true. Houston made his eyes wide, as if terrified. He was a good actor, having done it to fit in most of his life. Jet knew how to cover up what he felt as well, but he did it by disappearing, not taking center stage.

  “The dead guy was a bully who beat on women,” said Houston melodramatically. “These screaming naked devils came up out of the ground, reaching for him.” He wriggled his fingers, eyes wide, snarling as he reached toward Tank. The man drew back in horror. “They caught him, and dragged his soul down into the bowels of hell for everlasting torture and damnation. That’s gonna be you, Stanley Jefferson!” Houston jabbed his finger at Tank.

  Tank took a step back, his face white. He shook his head, little tremors, which got worse.

  “I ain’t going to hell. Pa said so!”

  “You hit your mama and your sister,” said Jet coldly. “God doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want you. That means you are going to hell!”

  “No! Pa said women do what their men tell them. If they don’t we can chastersize them.” He looked wildly from Jet to Houston and back. “It’s in the Bible!”

  “Chastise,” said Houston coldly.

  “What?”

  “The word you’re looking for, dumbass, is chastise. And it’s got nothing to do with belting someone smaller than you with your fists, or kicking them in the gut with your boots. You did that to your mom, and to your sister, didn’t you?”

  “But—”

  Jet leaned toward Tank. “You,” he said softly, “Stanley Jefferson, are going to hell.”

  “No!”

  “Them fires are gonna roast your balls,” said Houston, grinning. “Them devils are gonna stick their pitchforks up your ass.” He held his hands as if holding one, jabbing it up. “Again, and again, and again.” He said each word louder than the last. Tank gaped like a fish. “Twenty-four-seven, Stanley,” he almost whispered. “Day and night. Fucked up the ass with a pitchfork while your balls roast in the fires that burn white-hot, but never destroy. Your flesh will turn black and peel off. You’ll scream until your throat gives out, then it will heal, and you will scream again. And again. For all of eternity!”

  “No!”

  Tank roared the word as he rushed toward Houston, fists flailing. Jet calmly put out a foot. Tank tripped, and went down. Jet waited. Sure enough, Tank got to his feet and attacked. He was like an animal, flailing blindly.

  Jet pretended to defend himself, letting Tank land a couple of blows on his face before hitting him in the gut. The man had muscle, and barely made a sound when the blow hit. He got in a lucky shot and Jet went backward on his ass, pretending it was worse than it was. He went up on his elbows, shaking out his head as if dazed. It was easy to put on a disgusted look for getting knocked down. He hated losing, even for a good cause.

  Tank had turned to his main target. Houston was ready, both hands clutching the straight end of his thick wooden cane. He swung it like a baseball bat, catching Tank on the outside of his thigh. Tank screamed and went down. He rolled in the dirt, howling. Gibson came running from his nearby office.

  “Did you break his leg?” he demanded.

  “Nope.” Houston grinned evilly. “I aimed for that place where the nerves are in a bundle. Right where that son of a gun physio jabbed me the other week. He was right. One shot and you go down. Hard.”

  Gibson attached cuffs to Tank, who’d slowed to a moan. He had to use two pair because the man’s wrists wouldn’t come anywhere close to touching behind his back. Figuring it was over, Jet sat up.

  “You’re all under arrest,” said Gibson. He turned to Jet. “On your stomach with your hands straight out. Both of you.”
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  Chapter 31

  “There are other reasons for being tired and hating coffee. There’s nothing to worry about,” said Lila as she watched the back end of her truck drive away with Jet and Houston in it. “Yeah, right!”

  Rascal snuck up on a raven pushing around a hard-boiled egg in the yard. The dog was so intent on the bird that he didn’t notice its mate fly up from behind. It landed on Rascal’s rump and grabbed hold of his thick fur. They raced across the yard with the black bird riding him like a jockey. It was one of their normal games but this time it didn’t make her smile.

  She stuck her trembling hands in her back pockets, reminding herself she was the type to dive into cold water and get it over with, rather than dip in a toe. The postcard from her parents said their small cruise ship had no access to the Internet, or telephone service. They would call her when they started the land portion of their trip. She couldn’t wait another ten days to talk to someone about this.

  The front door opened and her aunt, smiling as usual, appeared on the front porch.

  “Sorry, I was in the back and didn’t hear the truck. Should I put on a new pot of coffee?”

  “Uh, no thanks, Aunt Marci.”

  “You’ve caught me at the right time. I cleaned all morning and was just taking a break before starting to cook.”

  “Thank God for small mercies,” muttered Lila as she slowly climbed the steps.

  She sniffed, and when nothing made her stomach churn, stepped into the welcoming kitchen. She slumped on her usual chair. Barney leaped into her lap, demanding cuddles. He rubbed his back end over her boobs when he turned around. She cursed, scratching her itchy nipples. They’d turned ultra-sensitive, and not in a good way.

  “What have you been eating?” asked Marci, slipping into the seat across from her. “You’ve got a couple of pimples on your chin.”

  Lila touched them, grimacing. She hadn’t had a pimple since she was fifteen.

  “I’ve never heard of sex giving you pimples, but who knows?” Marci winked.

  Barney gave up on Lila’s lack of attention. He slid under the table to Marci. She leaned back, giving him space in her lap, which he immediately took. She scratched his ears, then ran her hand from his head to the end of his bushy tail. Lila traced the carvings in the table with her finger. Heat crept up her chest to her face at the silence.

  “Have you had sharp stomach cramps, low down?”

  Here it was, the third degree. She’d known coming here was a necessity, and a curse.

  “Yes, a couple days ago,” she replied softly. “I thought it, and the pain in my lower back, was from stretching fences. Or an infection.”

  Lila looked her aunt in the eyes, finding compassion, understanding, and love. Suddenly, her throat got tight. She ducked her head, but the pain didn’t go away. She leaned her elbows on the table and pressed her hands over her face. Tears leaked out.

  “I’m so scared.”

  The indignant sound of a cat being shoved off a lap was followed by the screech of wood as chair legs were shoved across the floor. A moment later her aunt wrapped her arms around her, just as she used to do when Lila could swing her feet without her toes touching.

  “Oh, sweetie. Did you have unprotected sex?”

  Even if she could inhale enough to speak, Lila’s throat was too tight to answer. She nodded.

  “Once?” Another nod. “That first time?”

  Lila managed a third nod, tears dripping through her fingers. She didn’t cry. Guys didn’t cry, and she’d made sure she didn’t either. Except for the day of Danny’s funeral, her tears had only been seen by Rascal.

  “The good news,” said Marci quietly, “is your fathers and uncles can’t shoot Jet and Houston, because they did the same thing with your mother and I. The bad news, or even better depending on how you feel about wanting children, is that you’ve inherited the Meshevski genetics.”

  Her mind was so tumbled that she couldn’t think. She hadn’t wanted to believe this.

  “You’re saying I’m going to have a baby?”

  “If all goes well, yes, I expect you’re going be a mother.”

  Joy and fear clashed. Her heart pounded. A new batch of silent tears leaked out. Marci yanked Lila’s chair around and pulled her into a hug, Lila’s head resting on her chest. Lila hugged back, sobbing. She was unable to stop the storm of emotions she’d held back for uncertain days and nights.

  Marci rocked, murmuring things that Lila didn’t quite hear. It didn’t matter, as she felt the love. Finally, she was able to fill her lungs at least halfway.

  “You realize you’re making my older sister into a granny before me,” said Marci with satisfaction. “I am so going to rub it in that she’s way older.”

  Lila choked out a laugh. Her mom and aunt loved each other dearly, and also loved to poke fun. She released her aunt, who backed away to grab a box of tissues. Lila made good use of them while Marci put on the kettle.

  “I am going to kick Lance’s butt for not warning me about this!”

  Another wave of emotion made her tremble. She hated not being in control of herself.

  “Uncle Lance knows?”

  “He will now,” she replied wryly. “He wouldn’t have looked before, but he’s linked to me, and since my heart is pounding, he’ll check in to see why. Since you’re here with me, and you’re in even worse shape emotionally, he’ll check you as well. I expect he’ll find it and come roaring in here any minute.”

  Lila balled up the tissues. She lifted the lid on the wood stove and dropped them in.

  “Find what?”

  “The spark of energy inside you,” said Marci. “It’s not a life, not yet, though it has the potential. Not every child is meant to be born. Or,” she added quietly, “is meant to live to middle age.”

  Marci rummaged in the box of herbal teas that usually made Lila roll her eyes and demand another cup of coffee. Not today. And not, it seemed, for the next nine months. Heavy boots clomped across the porch. Marci gave her the thumbs-up. Lila steeled herself to face the wrath of her uncle.

  Lance stopped in the doorway to stare at her. She’d loved this man all her life. He’d been the one who helped her through so many things. Was he disappointed in her? She braced herself, biting her lip.

  “You’ve never been one to waste time.” A smile cracked his craggy face. He held out his arms. She felt a wave of love envelop her. “Congratulations. Come give your old uncle a hug.”

  She cried out, racing across the floor to throw herself into his arms. He wrapped that invisible ball of loving, peaceful energy around her. Suddenly, everything would be all right. She held on as he absorbed all her worries and fear.

  “They’re good men,” he said when she’d calmed. “Whether they stay is not your choice. You’re all adults, and make your own decisions. Your responsibility is to yourself and to what is growing inside you.”

  “Did you know?”

  “I had a good idea this might happen, but not when, or with who.” He chuckled. “Remember when I asked if you wanted to know how many grandchildren you’d have?”

  She dropped her forehead on his shoulder and groaned. “I’m barely believing I’m going to have a baby. I don’t want to hear anything about grandchildren!”

  “Then I’ll hold off for a while. When are you going to tell Houston, and Jet?”

  She stepped back. It was time to be an adult, not a little girl clutching her uncle for safety.

  “Jet already knows that Houston and I didn’t use a condom that first time. God, I feel like such an idiot!”

  “It was your first time, sweetie,” said Marci encouragingly. “You were feeling things you didn’t think your body was capable of. I remember the night I attacked your Uncle Simon. He had a cast on his leg that went from his ankle to his—”

  “TMI!”

  Marci snickered. “You’re at least the third generation of Meshevski women to get caught. My mother said she had a bunch of siblings, though we never met
any.”

  Her great-grandparents had thrown her grandmother out into the street when her grandmother had finally given into her fiancé’s pressure for sex. He’d given her a ring promising marriage. Turned out he was wealthy, from another country, and had used her for no-strings sex. The cheap engagement ring was just a prop. He had a real fiancée back home, and returned to her at the end of the school year.

  Houston wasn’t like that, and she had the total support of her family. Her baby’s father wanted nothing to do with his family, and had good reasons for it. She didn’t know if he would want anything to do with a child, but that was okay with her. Her family might not like her getting pregnant and raising a child alone, but her baby would be welcome, no matter what.

  It should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. After the men left, she’d be alone all night again, keeping a nightlight shining to keep the dark away.

  “You say Jet knows you didn’t use a condom. What about Houston? He was there, so should have noticed he didn’t take precautions.”

  “He, um didn’t have time,” said Lila. Her face got hot, and her head swam. She took two steps and fell into a chair. “I went farther than he’d planned, and moved too quickly for him. He assumed I was on the pill, and one time shouldn’t matter that much. I didn’t tell him anything different, and we’ve used condoms since.” She played with the end of her braid. “Jet said Houston had enough on his mind with getting better, and didn’t need to worry about something that might not happen.”

  “It’s going to happen,” said Lance. “The life you’re carrying is as stubborn and independent as you. Good thing your mother is a doctor.”

  “Why? Will there be a problem?” asked Marci.

  Lance shook his head, smiling at his wife. “I see a sudden need for a doctor during a heavy March blizzard. Lila won’t have time to get to the clinic.”

  “Matt can tell when calves are about to be born,” said Marci. “He’ll make sure Lila’s at the clinic if there’s a big storm brewing.”