Covington, Cara - Love Under Two Cowboys [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Cara Covington

  They’d lived apart these last couple of years, but had stayed close, emotionally. Or as close as Carrie would allow herself to get with anyone.

  “Yeah,” she said now, answering the intimate question. “More than okay, to tell you the truth. They’re both very good to me, and I think they’re very good for me.”

  “Good.” Chloe nodded once. Then, “Did you tell them?”

  Carrie didn’t pretend not to know what Chloe meant. “Yes. I told them before we…well, just before. They kind of insisted that they get to share more than just my body.”

  “Good for them.”

  Carrie thought it was time to change the subject. “Now, it’s your turn in the hot seat. Tell me about Beck O’Malley.”

  Chloe inhaled deeply, as if she was going to protest the way Carrie ended the conversation about herself. Then she seemed to let it go.

  Carrie watched as Chloe let herself think about her former boyfriend. “I really, really cared for him. We’d moved to Divine, because he decided to take up a new career—beekeeping—and because big cities just aren’t for him.”

  “Wow. A beekeeper? That’s not a career you hear about every day.”

  Chloe smiled, and Carrie could see fondness on her sister’s face, and in her eyes. Fondness, and a shadow of regret.

  “He is such a resourceful man! You name it, he could do it. Beck was a jack-of-all-trades, and could teach himself to do most anything. He believes in stepping up to the plate, you know? I think that’s what attracted me to him in the first place. He was kind, and tender, and generous. Carrie, he treated me like a queen.” Chloe lowered her head. “It shames me that I just couldn’t love him the way he deserved to be loved. I guess that’s why I didn’t see his proposal coming. I didn’t love him the same way he loved me.” Chloe stopped talking for a long moment.

  Carrie gave her sister the quiet she needed. Chloe, of the two of them, had always been the most sensitive in nature. The woman hated to hurt anyone’s feelings. She could hardly imagine what the last month had been like for her.

  “How could I say yes to him, when I knew that deep and abiding love for him just wasn’t inside of me? I hurt him, and I honest to God never meant to do that. And now…now, I’ve decided that maybe I should just leave Divine. It’s a good place, with a lot of really good, decent people. But it’s not my place. Not anymore.”

  * * * *

  Chloe Rhodes only had six years on her little sister. Yet despite the horrors Carrie had been forced to endure at the hands of that sick bastard when she’d been not much more than a kid, in many ways Carrie remained almost heartbreakingly naïve. If Chloe ever doubted the truth of that, the conversation they’d just shared on the back patio had convinced her.

  Chloe had watched, with concern, as her sister had grown into a woman—but a woman who held herself in tight control and apart from others. Carrie didn’t make many friends. In the seven and a half years they’d lived together after Chloe had found her again, her sister had never invited a girlfriend to sleep over.

  Before the loss of their parents, Carrie had been outgoing, friendly, often the one others gravitated toward. In the aftermath of their personal tragedy, that Carrie had disappeared, Chloe had feared, forever.

  She’d always been very worried about her baby sister’s social life. Carrie had actually never dated, except that one time just a few years ago, and it hadn’t seemed to her as if that relationship had meant all that much to her or lasted very long at all.

  Chloe wished she’d been wiser when Carrie had first come to live with her. But by the time she’d figured out what had happened to her baby sister at that last foster home, it had seemed to her as if Carrie had somehow gotten over it.

  Now, as a grown woman, Chloe understood as she hadn’t when she’d been a young twentysomething that her sister hadn’t likely “gotten over it” at all. She did sense, however, that she had finally made peace with her past, more or less. She’d be willing to bet that miracle had come about very recently. And it did occur to her that if she lived closer, she could be there for Carrie from here on out.

  She’d seen what family could mean in Divine. She’d be willing to bet that sense was as strong, if not stronger, right here in Lusty.

  It was useless to think that if they’d been kids in a town like either of the two, that her and her sister’s lives would have been so very different. Yeah, it was useless, but a body couldn’t help her thoughts sometimes.

  Chloe didn’t blame herself for what her sister had gone through. She blamed that bastard, George Lockwood. And to a certain degree, she blamed the system that had failed to protect her sister from that predatory monster.

  Now, having opened a bit of a dialogue with Carrie about a subject that should have been broached between them years before, Chloe was determined she would never fail her sister again.

  Starting today.

  The Benedict men called them in to dinner. Chloe didn’t know what to expect. In her experience, men didn’t always do a good job of putting a meal on the table. She stepped into the kitchen and inhaled deeply of the aromas permeating the air.

  Something smelled very, very good.

  “We’d like to take the credit but y’all would likely figure it out anyway.” Chase held Chloe’s chair for her. “It’s our mother’s Texas Beef Casserole we’ve just taken from the oven. When we found out we’d have company tonight, we got mom to drop it off for us.”

  “Not so strangely, she came loaded with some of Aunt Bernice’s fresh homemade bread, some of her tossed green salad, and a fresh apple pie Aunt Samantha sent over.”

  “I’ll have to make sure I thank them all when I see them,” Carrie said.

  Brian nodded. He said, “Mom said you’d say that. We were to tell you they were happy to lend a hand welcoming your sister here.”

  Chloe smiled at the men, grateful to have discovered that sense of family she’d hoped she’d find did indeed flourish here.

  “That’s the way it is in small towns,” Chloe said. She helped herself to some of the succulent beef and cheese, and passed it on.

  Salad, meat, and fresh bread made for a very tasty meal.

  Carrie laughed. “I take back my ‘frozen pizza’ accusation.”

  “Now, sugar, you know if the womenfolk hadn’t come to our aid, that’s exactly what we’d be eating. With more preparation time, Bri and I can make a decent meal. But not on the fly. Don’t reckon men—unless of course they’re trained, professional chefs—can come close to what a lot of women seem to just know how to do, and do so well.”

  The food was delicious, and Chloe ate more than she thought she would. The men were setting out the pie and bringing the coffeepot to the table, when she judged the moment to be the best it was going to get.

  “I need to speak to you”—she looked from Brian to Chase—“about my baby sister.” That little lightning bolt scar sure didn’t detract from Chase’s good looks, not one iota. It crinkled when he smiled. He set his hand on Carrie’s when she gasped, and said, “Hush, honey. She’s your big sister, and as you’ve got no ma or pa, she has a right to see to your welfare. She needs to know our intentions, and that we’ll take good care of you.”

  Chloe met Carrie’s narrowed gaze straight on. Then she shook her head. “No, I figure if you don’t do right by her, she’ll geld you herself.”

  Both men winced and Carrie looked more than smug.

  Chloe inhaled deeply and plunged right in. “She told you about that piece of human trash back in Abilene.”

  “She did.” Brian’s expression turned serious, and Chloe would be willing to bet that wasn’t something that happened often.

  “I’ve been keeping track of the calendar, and of him. He was released from prison not that long ago. And I want to know that you’re watching out for Carrie and that you’re on the lookout for him.”

  Carrie shook her head. “No, that was years ago. He likely—”

  “He likely has a sick obsession about you, sug
ar. I’m sorry, but neither Brian nor I think it’s over with him.” He nodded. “Seems your sister’s of the same mind.” He covered her hand. “No one thinks you’ve seen the last of him.”

  Her sister went totally still. “No one?”

  Chase continued to hold Carrie’s hand. “We’ve spoken to Adam Kendall, who’s the sheriff, as you know. He’s been in touch with the authorities in Huntsville. They’ve outfitted Lockwood with a monitoring device, and he’s staying at a halfway house.” Then he turned his attention back to her. “You can rest easy, Chloe, that we’re well aware of the danger he represents.”

  “How come no one thought to tell me?”

  Brian took Carrie’s other hand. “You didn’t already guess, darlin’, that he was still a danger to you? Really? You didn’t choose denial as a way of coping with that? No one blames you, darlin’. It’s our job, Chase’s and mine, to see to your safety.”

  Carrie sighed. For a moment she looked defeated. Then she inhaled, and raised her head. “A part of me wondered. I didn’t know if I was just being paranoid, or if my instincts were at work. Let me tell you something. That bastard comes near me when I’m anywhere near a knife, I’ll sure as hell geld him.”

  “I wouldn’t expect any less of you,” Chase said. “And you go right on not worrying about the maybe of him. You’ve got Brian, and me, and hell, the entire town of Lusty. You’ve got your sister.” Chase nodded. “You can bet your very fine ass that we’re going to be taking care, and keeping our eyes open. Because, sugar? That’s the Benedict way.”

  Chloe sighed and reached for her coffee cup. The Benedict way sounded damn good to her.

  * * * *

  George Lockwood really regretted having to hurt the pastor’s wife. She’d seemed like such a nice lady, small and delicate and ladylike. She certainly was a much better lady than Pastor Jack deserved, of that he had no doubt.

  The woman reminded him of his Carolyn. When Jack had brought him home, she’d served him a very nice cup of tea and a plate of homemade ginger cookies.

  George loved ginger cookies.

  And, she’d smiled at him—not as if she was looking down her nose at him, the way her husband did. She had a nice smile.

  He imagined that she hadn’t gotten a very good deal, marrying the man she had. In all likelihood, Jack Kenny had a small dick that didn’t work worth a fuck.

  George snickered at the joke he’d just made in his head. He stood back and looked at his handiwork. Pastor Jack was trussed up right and tight. He wouldn’t be getting out of his restraints anytime soon. George had hit him pretty hard, and the man was out cold. When he awoke—if he awoke—he’d find himself bound and gagged and wearing George’s leg shackle monitor.

  He looked down at his feet to where Isabella Kenny had fallen after he’d clocked her on the chin. He supposed he’d have to put her on that king-sized bed next to her husband. He almost hated to do that. He’d bet she hated being in bed with the man.

  George would tie her up, of course, so that she couldn’t release good old Jack. Not that she would necessarily want to, but a wife had to be dutiful to her husband, even if her husband was a pompous, self-righteous asshole.

  George sensed that Isabella Kenny was a very dutiful wife.

  He bent down and picked her up off the floor. As he laid her on the bed, her female scent surrounded him, reminding him just how long it had been since he’d had his sweet Carolyn.

  He’d taken what he wanted when he wanted from that other little whore, and for that, he’d ended up in prison for ten long years. That had been a mistake, one that wouldn’t be repeated. When he’d fucked that slut, he’d imagined her to be his Carolyn. Of course she hadn’t been, but she was just a girl. His mom used to always tell him that girls were no good.

  You stay away from those girls, Georgie, they’re all no good, no good at all. That was how he’d known that God had sent Carolyn to him. His mother had been so set against all the other females, yet she’d taken that one into her own home. George understood the truth. Carolyn had been perfect and pure, which was why God had sent her to him. His mother had understood that, too.

  The police had come, and they’d arrested him, depriving him of his right to go after his property, and of receiving his due. They really shouldn’t have done that.

  This time, he wouldn’t have that problem. Once he had Carolyn, once he’d punished her and explained to her the way things were going to be from now on, everything would work out right. He’d take them to a place where no one would ever find them.

  He felt pretty certain that once old Jack here got free, he’d just forget he had ever met George Lockwood. He’d likely be too embarrassed to admit he’d been had. He’d happily wear that leg shackle until it got turned off by the state.

  He looked over at Jack, a middle-aged, balding, pudgy excuse for a man. A pompous man who used the misfortune of others for his own gain—that was Pastor Jack.

  Someone needed to teach him a lesson. Someone needed to show him he wasn’t really much of a man at all.

  Isabella moaned softly, and the sound reminded him of his Carolyn. George smiled. He knew what he was going to do. He didn’t have a lot of time, but he had enough. And some things, he decided, were just worth the effort.

  He rooted around in Isabella’s drawers and found some panty hose with which to tie her up. Then he gagged her, being careful not to cover her nose. He didn’t want to hurt her any more than he had already. She needed to be able to breathe without being able to call for help.

  She was awake and staring at him with those soft blue eyes of hers. He saw fear in her eyes and that fear stirred him.

  It reminded him of the fear that had always been in Carolyn’s eyes.

  Mrs. Kenny was smarter than her husband. She recognized the power in him, the authority. He reached out and stroked her face.

  “Don’t you worry, sweetheart, I’m going to take good care of you.” He left her and headed back to the kitchen.

  Her knife block held a large pair of kitchen shears. Just what I need.

  The entire time he cut the clothing off her she shook her head, likely in denial. He smiled and ran his hands over her body. She didn’t really look like his Carolyn, but if he stared hard enough, he could see his woman’s sweet curves in his mind’s eye.

  He stripped off his own clothes and got onto the bed. It took no trouble at all for him to recall how it had been, that first time with his Carolyn. He found he could block out the moment he was living and go back to that wonderful moment when he had claimed his woman for the first time. For the next little while he was there with her again, claiming her, teaching her how to give him what he wanted, and putting his seed in her womb. He relived how it had been when he turned her over, when he exerted his dominance of her, showing her that she was meant to be his.

  George blinked as the soft sound of weeping brought him back to the present. The sound was the same quiet sound his Carolyn had made. He felt good, refreshed, renewed. He felt better than he had in a long, long time.

  He gathered his clothes and took a very quick shower. Then he dressed and began a systematic search of the house. In the pastor’s office he found a wall safe behind an ugly oil portrait.

  Not very original, are you, Pastor Jack?

  Looking at the contraption for a few moments, he imagined the man using the thing to hide the alms he likely bilked from the poor. Now, to open it, that was the problem. He searched the desk and then chuckled when, right under the man’s desk blotter, he found a slip of paper with three numbers written neatly upon it.

  He got the safe open on the first try. His eyes widened when he saw the contents. “My, my, Pastor Jack, you have been a bad boy.” George helped himself to the two large stacks of money he found there. He’d need a duffel bag or backpack to carry it all. He laughed as he found one and began to load it up with the cash. “No, Jackie won’t be calling the cops on me, that’s for certain.”

  He needed to get a move on. He stopp
ed in the kitchen just long enough to make a couple of sandwiches for the road. He scooped up the duffel bag full of cash and his laptop computer. Then he grabbed the pastor’s car keys, right where the man had left them on the entranceway table.

  In case someone was looking, he waved toward the house as he got into the man’s car. He’d memorized the map he’d looked up on Everywhere Earth, and knew he had a drive ahead of him. He’d hacked into the DMV database and found her, of course. He’d known it was her when he saw her driver’s license photo. She’d cut her hair short. George smirked. She’d grow it back. He would see to it.

  George had her address, and had even scoped out a no-tell motel not far from where she lived. He’d find the nearest Internet hot spot, too, so he could continue to monitor Carolyn, and any alerts issued for him—though he really didn’t think, with the caseload the cops had these days, they’d spend much time or effort looking for him.

  So he’d get to Dallas, ditch this car, get himself another, thanks to the bounty of Pastor Jack. Then he’d wait for his moment.

  He’d need to rest for a couple of days, gather his strength. Perhaps he’d pick up a few supplies.

  And then he’d wait until dark, and go and get his woman.

  Chapter 13

  She wanted their hands on her so badly she thought she just might scream if they didn’t start to do her in the next few minutes.

  Carrie sighed. She really was happy her sister had agreed to spend the night here at the ranch. She’d enjoyed their time together tonight. Of course, she’d been totally blindsided not only to learn that Chloe had figured out what had happened to her in Abilene, but by the fact her sister was worried that she may not have seen the last of George Lockwood.

  Carrie really didn’t want to think about that possibility.

  Tomorrow she would show Chloe around town and, because her sister had insisted on not continuing to intrude on her and the cowboys, Carrie would get her set up in her own apartment in the afternoon and let her get her bearings there. Chloe intended to stay for a few days, but Carrie was hoping she’d decide to move to Lusty, permanently.