by BJ Wane
Even though they’d only allowed her to tell her immediate family goodbye, there was no doubt her friends and coworkers had read about the murder and the eyewitness testimony against the eighteen- and nineteen-year-old sons of one of Reno’s wealthiest, well-known families that had put the young men behind bars. The cops and prosecutors had tried to get a judge to allow her to tape her testimony, but money and influence spoke louder than their arguments. Her name was kept out of the papers, but two and two was still easy to add up and she didn’t doubt her friends had connected her sudden disappearance with the recent prominent court case.
Leslie took a bite of the buttery pasta, casting a furtive glance toward the time displayed on her cell phone sitting next to her plate. There was still plenty of time to eat, dress and make the thirty-minute drive to the secluded club situated between Billings and the small town of Willow Springs. Her one-night stand with a stranger had scratched just the surface of the lonely itch that still plagued her with despondency today. His focused attention that had driven her to orgasm several times had only whetted her appetite for more and reminded her of all she was missing out on by staying away from The Barn.
Recalling the look in Kurt’s black eyes as he’d gazed at her, his heavy body thrusting inside her with deep, womb-touching plunges while whispering commands in her ear she was helpless to resist brought on a familiar surge of heat neither her hand nor vibrator were enough to defuse. Between his chivalry in coming to her aid, insistence on seeing her safely home and sexual, take charge control, he’d given her all she’d ached for. Too bad waking up to face another day alone brought back the cold reality of her current life – a life that held no future or allowed for anything more than those come-and-go encounters with both men and friends.
No, she thought, forcing herself to take another bite, she wasn’t ready to return to The Barn tonight, not until she was convinced she could do so without resenting the people she’d met and liked so well. It wasn’t their fault she would never have what they were lucky enough to find. Following the second week of her absence at the club, Sydney’s call of concern had given Leslie a much-needed boost of pleasure. When Nan phoned a few days later and filled her in on her successful trip back to New Orleans to testify against the man who had kidnapped and abused her, the temptation to accept her friend’s invitation to a girls’ night out celebration had come close to crumbling Leslie’s resolve to keep her distance for a while. Considering the way she’d held herself back from getting too close to anyone, their overtures meant a lot and offered a comfort they wouldn’t understand.
Leslie resigned herself to spending the evening working on lesson plans for her second graders instead of indulging in another night of hot, sweaty, mindless sex. Someday she would get herself under control again and accept her fate for doing the right thing, at least enough to play without revealing her jealousy or despair over everything she’d lost.
Chapter 3
Kurt drove into the small town of Willow Springs Thursday evening looking forward to reconnecting with his friends. Spending the last few evenings catching up on the business side of ranching, the days getting back into the groove of spending hours in the saddle instead of behind a desk and having pissing contests with his father, left little time for socializing. Thinking of Leland brought a frown to his face as he turned toward the town square. He could handle his cantankerous side, God knows he’d had enough experience. It was the minute glimpses of longing in his eyes Kurt had caught a few times that had thrown him for a loop. The quick way Leland would turn aside drew Kurt’s curiosity, but then he’d whip toward him again with some sarcastic snipe, the softening on his face gone.
“Stubborn son-of-a-bitch,” he grumbled as he parked in front of Dale’s Diner on the corner of Main. The picturesque fountain in the center of the square bubbled with a flow of water that kids loved to play in. The one-hundred-year-old buildings that still housed the city offices, sheriff’s precinct and library were a far cry from the modern high-rises of downtown Houston where he’d worked. Damn, he thought on a deep inhale of fresh air, it was good to get back to his roots, and know he was home to stay this time. Regardless of his tenuous relationship with his father, he vowed to make it work this time around.
“Is it true, you’re back for good?” Caden Dunbar demanded to know as soon as he hopped out of his truck and strolled around to greet Kurt.
“If Leland and I don’t end up killing each other. Good to see you again.” He shook the rancher’s hand before turning to his brother. “You too, Connor. I hope you don’t mind but I invited Doctor Mitchell Hoffstetter to join us. He was out to see Dad and brought up hearing about the club.”
Connor nodded, his blue eyes twinkling as he replied, “We’ve met. He’s a good guy.”
Caden snorted as he opened the door to the diner. “You didn’t think so when you heard Tamara would be working with the new hot doctor.”
With an unconcerned shrug and rueful grin, Connor quipped, “A guy’s gotta look after what’s his.”
“That sure is a change of heart from a short time ago,” Kurt drawled, following them inside the diner and getting his first appreciative whiff of as close to home cooking as you could get in a restaurant.
“The same could be said for you, but I for one am damn glad you’ve come to your senses. There’s no excuse for you not to become a full-time member now.” Caden smiled at the older woman glaring at them from behind the long counter as a 1950s oldie kicked out from the jukebox. “Hey, Gertie, look who’s back.”
Gertie answered with her usual bluntness. “I see. You done with the big city yet?”
“Yes, ma’am. At least until my old man kicks me out.” Gertie and her husband, Dale had opened the diner eons ago and she continued to run the place with an iron hand and deep caring for the town folk after his death.
“Well, don’t just stand there and expect me to escort you to your usual table.” She jerked her head toward the far corner booth. “The sheriff and our new doc beat you here.”
Chuckling, Kurt tossed his hat on a hook next to several others, winking at her as they crossed the black and white checkered floor. “I’ve missed you, Gert.”
“Don’t call me Gert or you can forget the free piece of cherry cobbler I have saved for you,” she snapped.
“Slip of the tongue.” Still smiling, he slid into one of the chairs facing the long, curved seating against the wall, holding out his hand to Grayson Monroe. “How the hell are you, Monroe?”
Grayson’s lips tipped up at one corner, shifting the toothpick he was always chewing on. “Good, and happy to welcome you back. Hopefully, adding two new members will keep the subs from complaining about too many Doms getting hitched.”
“Speaking for myself, I don’t have a problem filling in the gap.” Kurt nodded at the doctor. “Mitchell, meet the Dunbars, the other two owners of The Barn.”
It took less than ten minutes of good-natured ribbing and small talk to know Mitchell would fit in as well as Kurt always had. By the time Gertie helped their waitress, Barbara serve their burgers and fries, talk had switched from the club to horses, a passion they discovered, that Mitchell shared with them.
“Buying my own mount is one of my top priorities now that I’ve settled in and started work,” the doctor said after Caden filled Kurt in on the new breeding program he and Connor were undertaking. “Is there a boarding facility nearby? I don’t want to stable one as far away as Billings.”
“Are you living in town?” Kurt asked before diving into his double cheeseburger with relish.
Mitchell nodded. “Just put a down payment on a place over on Bluff, but don’t think a horse or the good sheriff here would take kindly to me housing it in the back yard.”
Grayson’s lips quirked, his version of a grin. “So I don’t have to cite you, why don’t you board with my bay, Thunder? I’ve got a two-stall stable and a few acres just outside of town.”
“Thank you. I’ll let you know.”
&
nbsp; Kurt crunched on a fry as he made an offer of his own. “You’re welcome on the ranch, but the distance is twice what Grayson’s place is.”
“And so is our place, but we’ve got another offer on the table, if you ever need it,” Caden put in. “We’re all passionate about our horses, in case you couldn’t tell. You’re from Denver, right?”
Mitchell nodded, swallowing a bite before answering, “Originally from Maryland, but did my residency in Denver and stayed.”
“Some damn fine livestock hail from there. If you’re interested in a Thoroughbred, I can give you a good price.” Kurt figured that was the least he could do in return for the care he was giving his dad.
“I’ll see what you have, but I’m more inclined toward adopting a rescue with issues and working with it. I enjoy a challenge and like to keep busy.”
A shadow of grief crossed Mitchell’s face again, and Kurt saw his friends noticed it also. None of them would pry, and he wouldn’t reveal the little Mitchell had told him. “Those animals are capable of breaking you if you’re not careful. Feel free to come to any of us for help, or just advice if you need it.”
Connor smiled. “I love the workout of breaking in a new bronc, but for any more of a challenge than that, I’ll stick with my newbie sub. She still has a lot to learn.”
That is not envy tightening my gut, Kurt insisted. Yeah, he’d had fleeting moments wondering what it would be like to settle down with one woman who knew him as well as he knew her. But, for all the relationships he’d enjoyed, none had left a lasting impression or resulted in strong enough feelings to contemplate making it permanent. There were a few vanilla affairs he remembered with fondness, and a few Dom/sub pairings he recalled with interest in a repeat if they were both ever so inclined, but that was as far as his emotional investment with anyone had gone.
A pretty face surrounded by a swath of dark blonde hair popped into his head again. It must be worry over Leslie’s fragile state that kept the memory of their one night together a week ago in the forefront of his mind. If he couldn’t forget her within the next week, he might consider driving back to Billings and stopping by her apartment to set his mind at ease. He doubted she would welcome a surprise visit, but that would be too bad if that was what he needed to do to settle his conscience.
“Where’d you go?”
Caden’s amused voice pulled Kurt’s head out of the clouds. “Sorry, just thinking about something. I need to get back.” He pushed away from the table, tossing down a generous tip and picking up his tab. “I’ll pay my membership online in the morning and see you tomorrow night at the club. How about you, Mitchell?”
The doctor nodded. “I’ll do the same.” His gaze swept the Dunbars and Grayson as he said, “Thank you for the invite.”
“Welcome aboard. Come early and we can give you a tour of the place,” Caden offered as Kurt lifted his hand in farewell and turned to leave.
“It’s good to have you back,” Gertie commented when she met him at the cash register. “You get your old man out and bring him in. He’s stayed to himself way too long. Grief’s going to be there whether he sits around moping or not.”
“He’s lost a spouse and a child, and since I can’t relate to either, I don’t push,” Kurt returned. “But I know you can commiserate with the loss of a spouse.”
“The work helps. Your daddy can’t get out and work the ranch now, but he can come into town and shoot the breeze. You tell him I said to quit being so lazy and ornery.”
Kurt grinned. “I’ll do that, Gertie. Thanks.”
Stepping out into the cooler evening air, he looked up at the star-studded inky sky, hoping Leland was settled in bed in front of his television by the time he got home. To his surprise, the few times his dad had brought up Brittany in the past few days, it was without leveling an accusation of blame on Kurt. While he couldn’t say Leland’s overall attitude had done a one-eighty, he could admit it appeared he was trying to get along. With luck, Kurt would get caught up on the business side of the ranch before his old man showed his true colors and they got into it again.
Leslie entered her favorite corner market and stepped into a nightmare. As if hearing the cruel mocking laughter echoing from the front wasn’t bad enough, the loud rapport of a gunshot as she stepped around the corner sent a wave of terror through her. Shock rooted her in place as she witnessed the two teens putting a bullet in the owner’s head, the spray of blood and brain matter sending bile rushing up to clog her throat. Without thinking, she dashed back out before either assailant noticed her, jumped into her car and sped toward the nearest police precinct. Knowing her fond memories of Alessandro, the owner, were forever blocked by that gruesome, heartbreaking, frightening moment blinded her with tears as her whole body shook in reaction. On her way home from a date that had ended like all the others, with little interest in taking things further, a sudden craving for Alessandro’s cannoli had hit her as she’d passed by and noticed a light still shone in the back window.
Little did she know that identifying the Glascott brothers as Alessandro’s killers would be the beginning of another bad dream.
Leslie rolled over in bed with a groan, wishing the memories away so she could get back to sleep. But as she drifted off again, the cold eyes and sneering faces of those two wealthy, pampered young men intruded once again.
“Are you sure, positively sure, the two defendants are the ones you saw kill Alessandro Carmichael on the night of April sixth?”
Leslie shifted her gaze from the DA to the two unrepentant teens. Only eighteen and nineteen and the young men would spend the rest of their lives behind bars. “Yes, I’m sure. Those two are the ones I saw.”
Jason Glascott surged to his feet before his high-priced attorney could stop him. “I’ll bury you, bitch!” he roared as he made to climb over the table. While he was quickly restrained, his brother gave her a cold stare and ran one finger across his throat, mimicking a knife slice.
Shivering in reaction as the courtroom erupted in a frenzy of shouting, Leslie grabbed Detective Reynold’s arm as soon as he rushed to her side. “Come on. You’re done here,” he said in a tight voice, shielding her as much as possible as he guided her toward the exit.
Just as they reached the wide double doors, the teens’ father, Edwin, brushed by her, close enough to bend down and whisper, “You’ll never be safe,” before disappearing into the crowd.
Jerking upright in bed, Leslie swiped a shaking hand over her damp brow as she blinked awake. She thought she was over the nightmares that had plagued her for months after she entered the Witness Protection program. The attempted mugging last week must have affected her more strongly than she’d first thought, triggering the fear and uncertainty of her circumstances again.
“Enough already,” she muttered, flinging the covers off and sliding out of bed. The early morning sky shone dull and gray through the closed blinds and she could feel her spirits toward facing another weekend alone taking a nosedive. Padding into the bathroom, she stripped off her nightshirt and stepped into the miniscule shower, contemplating returning to The Barn tonight. She needed to force herself out of the funk she’d allowed herself to wallow in for too long, the ‘poor me’ pity party that had led her to risk a one-night stand with a stranger.
But hot damn, what a stranger, and what a night. Just thinking about Kurt and the orgasms he had wrung from her with his take charge dominance could still produce small shivers of remembered pleasure. When he’d tossed her on her bed, lifted her legs over his shoulders and buried his mouth between them, she’d splintered apart within seconds, and that was only minutes after climaxing under him on the couch. But the way he’d awoken her several hours later would be forever seared into her memory. To erase the remnants of her bad dreams, she leaned against the tile wall and tried to remember that night.
Leslie groaned in groggy awareness of hard hands rolling her over onto her stomach. Snuggling down into her pillow with intentions of going back to sleep, she was ja
rred into full wakefulness by a sharp slap on her right buttock. “Oh, God,” she mumbled into the pillow when the next cheek bouncing smack landed on her left globe. She refused to look around at the stranger delivering that welcome stinging burn, a desired sensation she hadn’t felt in way too long. The dark room lent an intimacy to the shift of their naked bodies against the sheets and their deep breathing. He tapped the under curve of her right buttock and then cupped the fleshy mound in his calloused palm to squeeze the tormented flesh.
“Nice ass,” he whispered in her ear, his warm breath drawing goosebumps along her arms. “Reach above you, Leslie, and hold onto the head rail. Do not let go. Understood?”
“Yes,” she whispered with a delicate shiver as she groped above her for a handhold. Wrapping her hands around the metal bar, she tightened her grip, recalling the oddness of voluntary bondage she’d experienced earlier on the couch. She was used to physical restraints ensuring her compliance, making it easy for her to cede to the wishes of whichever Master she was submitting to. She liked tugging against the bondage, got off on knowing she had no choice but to obey or end the scene with one word. This nonrestrictive bondage brought about a whole new wave of self-awareness that gave her something else to think about except the risk of inviting a stranger into her home, and her bed.
