The Texas Rebel [The Armstrong Brothers of Cedar Creek 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Rebecca Joyce

  Bridget didn’t hear him. The noise was too much for her, and as she tried to turn around and walk back outside, someone grabbed her arm, pulling her out onto the dance floor.

  Mitchell found the bar and managed to ask the bartender if he knew where Club Roulette was at. The bartender just smiled and shouted, “New Orleans!”

  “You’re shittin’ me!” Mitch shouted back. The bartender smiled and shrugged his shoulders and went back to filling drinks. Mitch turned around and noticed Bridget wasn’t standing next to him. He started looking through the crowd and couldn’t find her anywhere. The place was too packed.

  Walking through the crowd, he still couldn’t see her anywhere. He made his way to the doors, thinking she probably just went back outside, when something in his gut told him to turn around.

  He saw her then.

  There on the dance floor surrounded by three men in Navy uniforms, was his little scrumptious treat being manhandled by the Navy’s finest. Her soft blonde curls were bouncing around her face as she tried to get away from the men. Her face was flustered, and she was getting pissed.

  Mitch shook his head and made his way through the crowd once again. “Can’t she behave for just one minute,” he muttered to himself. He reached the men and smiled. “Having fun, sugar?” he shouted.

  “Mitchell! Get me out of here!”

  “You haven’t finished the dance yet!” He smiled.

  “Mitchell!”

  “Fine,” he said, rolling his eyes and tapping one of the sailors on his back. “Sorry, man, but it’s time I took the lady home.”

  “She ain’t going anywhere. Shove off!” he said, shoving Mitch away.

  Oh, hell, why does she put me in these situations? he thought to himself as he walked back over to the sailor. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, turned him around, and punched him right in the face, knocking him to the ground. It didn’t take long for the sailor’s friends to come to his rescue.

  Mitchell was doing fine until one of them grabbed a broken beer bottle and started swinging it at him.

  At that moment, Bridget decided to enter into the fray. Jumping on the man’s back, she started hitting him with her fist. His cute little vixen was fighting right along with him.

  God, I love this woman.

  She was making a pretty good effort until the sailor had managed to grab a hold of her. He lifted his hand and slapped her, hard, knocking her to the floor.

  Mitchell snapped.

  All he saw was blood!

  Mitchell grabbed the man and started beating the living shit out of him.

  It took five bouncers to pull Mitchell off of the bleeding man, and even then the bouncers had a hard time controlling him. He watched as Bridget got to her feet and walked over to him. Her face was already bruising, and he knew it hurt. He gave her props, for she did not show any pain as she shouted at him, “Mitch!”

  He didn’t even hear her. All he wanted was to rip that sailor apart. He had never been so angry before in his life.

  “Mitchell!” she shouted again, slapping him across the face.

  That got his attention.

  “What the hell did you hit me for?”

  “You done now?”

  “He hit you!”

  “And you pulverized him. Let’s go,” she ordered, grabbing his hand and leading him out of the club.

  The cool night air whipped around them as she never let go of his hand, leading him back to the car. As she went to open the door, Mitchell grabbed her and turned her around to face him. Her expression was still hard, but it had softened a little as he gently touched the side of her swollen face.

  “Does it hurt?” he whispered.

  “I’ll be fine,” she said, ignoring his concern.

  “Bridge, I’m sorry he hit you.”

  “Why are you apologizing? It was him that did it, not you.”

  “I shouldn’t have started that fight.”

  “Look, Mitchell, you did your best. Now stop worrying about my face and let’s go,” Bridget said, trying to get away from him. She had never seen him act this way, and it was starting to freak her out a little. He just held firm to her and kept gently rubbing her sore cheek. She sighed. “Are you done yet?”

  “Not even close,” he whispered as he took her face in his hands. He leaned toward her and kissed her soft, plump red lips.

  * * * *

  9:52 p.m., Texas

  As the wheels of MH Armstrong’s private Jetstream lifted off the tarmac from the Austin airport, Mark, with his brothers and father, sat quietly. Leaning back in his overstuffed leather chair, he tried to get control of the urge to strangle his twin.

  “Mr. Armstrong. We should arrive in New Orleans by 11:15 p.m. You are free to move about the cabin,” the pilot announced over the speaker. Mark undid his seat belt and stretched out, making himself comfortable. He watched Mason grab for the television remote and start to flip through channels. Matthew put on his headphones and started fumbling with his iPod while the others talked among themselves.

  He figured he should enjoy the peace and quiet while it lasted because the moment he got his hands on Mitchell, all hell was going to break loose. Better to conserve his energy than to waste it by worrying about it now.

  “Holy shit!” Matthew shouted, standing up quickly. Everyone watched him walk over to the television’s sound system and plug his iPod into the speakers. “You’re not going to believe this. Listen,” he ordered and turned up the volume.

  * * * *

  “I want to thank everyone for the kind welcome back, and I hope you all have enjoyed the music, thank you,” the woman said over the loud cheers in the background.

  “Wasn’t she wonderful, everyone? Maybe if we ask real nice, she won’t mind doing one more number for us. Come, everyone, help me out, will ya!” a man said loudly as the crowd grew louder and started shouting her name.

  Mark slowly sat up in his chair as her name was said over and over.

  “Come on, honey, one more number!” the man begged. And as the crowd’s noise grew, they erupted into a thunderous applause.

  “Just one more.” She laughed. “Okay, okay. Now I want everyone to settle down, find a comfortable seat,” she said nicely. As the whistles and cheers from the crowd flew through the speakers, Mark walked toward her voice.

  The soft sounds of a piano began to play, and the crowd stilled. “I want to sing this song for a band of brothers who showed me that no matter what happens, there will always be someone there to help you pick up the pieces.” The piano picked up as the sound of her voice stared singing her rendition of “I’ll Stand by You.”

  * * * *

  Matthew turned up the volume as he watched Mark sit next to Mason. There, flying thirty thousand feet above the earth, they listened to her sing. His brothers and father gathered around him and stood, showing their support as the angelic voice filled the air around them.

  Mark had never heard anything like it before in his life. The emotion of her voice was surreal. She barred her true feelings as she sang. Letting everything go, she released herself for all to see. Even though he wasn’t there, he closed his eyes and saw her standing before him, there up on that stage, singing from her soul for him and his family.

  Never one to show any kind of emotion, Mark was overcome as tears fell from his soft-blue eyes.Hiswoman,hislittle mythical creature sang for him from her heart, and he allowed himself to hope.

  “That was Sarah Mitchell, singing tonight only at the Club Roulette, in downtown New Orleans, coming back after a five-year hiatus. You can see her again in one week as she sings the national anthem for the national championship game between the Texas Rebels and the Hawaiian Hawks,” the announcer spoke before the station went to a commercial.

  Matthew turned off the sound system while everyone tried to compose themselves. Never in their whole life had someone said anything more true, more heartfelt than what she sang that night.

  “Wow,” Michael said, lowering himself in a
chair.

  “Took the words right out of my mouth,” Marcus replied. Mark stood and ran his hands through his hair. “She sings beautifully,” he whispered.

  “She always has. How is it that you have never heard of her? I mean, just the mention of Sarah Mitchell and I knew who she was,” Matthew asked.

  “Shit, Mattie. I don’t know,” Mark replied, getting annoyed once again.

  “Well, what do you want to do now, son?” MH asked.

  “Someone has to put a leash on Mitch. I can’t let him do what he’s planning.”

  “That’s why we’re going to New Orleans? Just to stop Mitch?” Michael questioned.

  “What do you want me to say? That I am going after her? She has her own life. She doesn’t need me fucking it up,” he said angrily, sitting back in his chair.

  “So you’re just gonna give up? You’re not gonna fight for her? You’re just gonna let her walk away?” Michael said, getting rather aggravated.

  “Yes, I am giving up. Okay, I said it, I’m giving up!” he shouted at Michael.

  “Fine. Quit! Might as well quit football, too, while you’re at it. Cause if you don’t fight for her, you won’t be worth a damn to anybody or anything else ever again. You hear me, Mark?” Michael said viciously.

  “Shut up,” Mark muttered.

  * * * *

  Sarah walked off the stage and was ushered to her limo waiting out back. She was exhausted but exhilarated. She hadn’t had such a rush in a very long time. She felt like singing until dawn.

  “How was it, honey?” Bucky asked as she made herself comfortable.

  “Oh God, Buck, it was wonderful!” she said, hugging him.

  “Glad to hear it, because I just booked your next gig.” He smiled.

  “Bucky, this was just supposed to be for one night only. What about going back into the studio?”

  “Plenty of time for that. Besides, I need that voice of yours well rested.”

  “Why?”

  “Sarah, honey, I just booked you the gig of a lifetime. I am going to have your face plastered over every damn television across the United States and probably even abroad. Sweetheart, you’re singing the national anthem at the championship game here in New Orleans in one week.”

  “What championship game? Buck, you know I don’t like sports. I won’t have to sit and watch, will I?

  Bucky just laughed. “No, sugar. Just sing the song, and you can leave.”

  “Okay,” she replied and leaned her head back against the headrest as she headed back to the hotel.

  * * * *

  Later that night

  The door to suite flew open with a swift kick of his boot. They all entered the room to find him sleeping like a baby in a very nice cozy bed.

  “Get up, asshole!” Mark shouted.

  Mitchell shot up out of bed like a rocket to find all his brothers and father standing before him, with anger and retribution in their eyes.

  Dear God, it’s the apocalypse!

  “What the hell!” Mitchell shouted.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Where is she?” Mark shouted back as he searched the room for Sarah.

  “Well Iwassleeping, dickhead!” Mitchell shouted back.

  “You idiot, I’m talking about kidnapping Sarah. Have you lost your mind?” Mark asked.

  “What are they doing here?” Mitchell asked, pointing at the rest of the mob.

  “Were here to make sure he doesn’t kill you. That’s all. Other than that, you’re on your own,” Mason offered with a smile. Mark was about to say something when they all heard a soft, subtle moan of a female voice come from the bed.

  Mitchell quickly looked at Mark.

  All of the brothers grabbed a hold of Mark before he lunged for the bed. Mitchell had never been so grateful for his brothers than he was at that very moment.

  “Let me go! He’s dead! I’m going to kill him!”

  “Now, Mark, it’s not what you think,” Mitchell said, trying to calm the feral animal before him.

  “You motherfucker!” The words emanating from his mouth could be heard down the hall and into the lobby. “I am going to rip off your head and shit down your throat!” He continued on like a wild beast ready to rip apart the flesh from his body.

  “Humm, Mitchell, honey,” the soft, lazy voice whispered.

  Time froze.

  Nobody moved.

  The brothers waited patiently for her to appear out from under the sheets. “Shush, darlin’, go back to sleep,” Mitchell whispered, rubbing her back and making sure she was still covered by the soft sheets. “Is someone here?” she sheepishly asked.

  “Just my inconsiderate family. Go on and go back to sleep. They were just leaving,” he cooed.

  “Okay,” she mumbled.

  Mitchell turned his attention back to his brothers, who were all wide-eyed and speechless, that was, except for Mark. “Who in the hell is that?” He asked what everyone else wanted to know.

  “None of your business,” Mitchell replied, getting out of the bed stark naked and walking back over to the door, shutting it and smiling at his dad, who just leaned against the wall, shaking his head.

  “I think you better answer them, son. I won’t be able to stop them if it’s someone who’s not yours,” his father said without inflection.

  Turning to his brothers, he informed them all, “My wife, thank you very much. You have just interrupted my honeymoon. Now, please enlighten me. What in the hell are you assholes doing here?”

  “Your wife!” they all shouted, shocked beyond belief.

  “Yes, my wife. I got married last night,” Mitchell replied, walking back to the bed and sliding back under the covers. “Now go away. I’m tired,” he said with a wave of his hand as if he was dismissing a nuisance.

  Mitchell caught Marcus and Mason slowly inching around the bed to get a better look at the sleeping woman under the sheets. “Freeze, you turkeys! Don’t you move another inch, or I will kick your ass!” Mitch ordered and the brothers froze.

  “We’re not leaving till you tell us who she is?” Matthew smiled.

  “Yeah, we want to meet her,” Mason replied with a big grin on his face.

  “Mitchell, honey,” she spoke clearly.

  Leaning over he kissed her shoulder, “Yes, darlin’?”

  In a very crystal-clear voice, she ordered, “Tell those idiots if they don’t get their ass out of here, I’m calling their mother.”

  All at once they all shouted, “Bridget!”

  Chapter 15

  Sarah woke to find herself in a very large bed surrounded by flowers and gift baskets. The room was filled with them. As she sat up, she remembered that she was back in New Orleans, staying at Bucky’s condo in the heart of the city. She had actually thought she had dreamed the last two days, but apparently she hadn’t.

  Reaching for her robe, she walked into the bathroom and started the shower. The water felt good against her skin as she let it wash away the tension in her shoulders. She knew Bucky had set up several interviews and television spots for her to attend. Everyone wanted the story. The problem was she really didn’t know what she was going to say.I just can’t tell them I ran away cause it all got too overwhelming for me. I can’t say I was too scared to show my face after that weasel stole all my money. What if they ask about my personal life? What will I say? Oh, I was getting married, but my fiancé died, and I ran off to England to mope! And then I met the love of my life and was too stupid to say anything and let him leave. Shit! she thought to herself. “I better think of something.”

  “Think of what?” Bucky shouted from her room.

  “Nothing! Never mind. I will be out in a minute.”

  “Take your time. Hey, I talked with the stadium, and they have arranged for us to view the place later this morning, okay?” he shouted once again.

  “You can stop yelling. I’m out now,” she said, entering the room to find Bucky eating breakfast and reading the morning paper at her table.


  “So the first thing is we go see the venue, then we have to take you shopping. ’Cause sweetheart, you look like crap, and we have to do something with that hair of yours. I was hoping the girls at the salon would have done something with it the other day. Anyway, when you’re all dolled up, we can hop over to the studio for a couple of hours if you like,” he advised.

  “I’m not cutting my hair.”

  “Just a small trim.”

  “No,” she replied.

  “Fine. Hey, I know how you hate these things, but I got you one anyway. So here,” he said, shoving a cell phone toward her. Sarah picked it up and grimaced. “Stop your pouting. It’s just a damn phone. You’ll thank me later.”

  “When pigs fly!”

  “Seriously, Sarah, you need to keep this on you at all times. It has a GPS tracking system on it, so if something happens, me or the security team can track you. Now, before you get your panties in a wad, yes, we have already started getting junk mail. Nothing serious, just a bunch of crap about you and this football player. I have forwarded it all to his managers. Let them deal with it, okay?”

  “Damn, Bucky. I haven’t been back a week, and it’s already starting,” Sarah said, getting to her feet and pacing the floor.

  “Calm down, honey. I’ve got a great team ready to take a bullet for ya, if need be. Now get that fine ass dressed. We are going to scope out the stadium, and then we’re getting that hair cut!”

  * * * *

  The stadium was enormous. Definitely the biggest venue she had ever played in. That the large open field was surrounded by thousands of seats, which soon would be filled with screaming football fans, was unbelievable to her. Walking out onto the field, she watched as the stadium lights flicked on, illuminating parts of the amazing structure. She had to admit to herself that this place was eye-opening, and just a small streak of jealously ran through her as she thought of all those fans here for a stupid football game instead of seeing her. But since she was never one to hold a grudge, she quickly dismissed that thought and was happy to be here for the opening ceremony, where she would stand before these screaming fans and sing the national anthem.