by Unknown
NO HOLDS BARRED
Montana Men Book 2
Jaydyn Chelcee
Erotic Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Erotic Romance
NO HOLDS BARRED
Copyright © 2012 Jaydyn Chelcee
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-301-1
First E-book Publication: July 2012
Cover design by Dawne Dominique
Edited by Colleen McSpirit
Proofread by Ariana Gaynor
All cover art and logo copyright © 2012 by Secret Cravings Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
Dedication
To Sandy Sullivan who loves cowboys as much, if not more, than I do, and to Ariana Gaynor, who is such a delight to work with and keeps me on “the right track”.
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Marla isn't looking for love or anything else from a man. Can Marla put aside her distrust of men for a younger man? Can Chris convince her he's not like other guys?
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Rachel Hayes' Father set out to prove the existence of the Miloni temple and the Jaguar people. Tumi is a descendant of the Miloni race and is sworn to protect their secret with his life. Will he be forced to uphold his vow at the cost of his heart and Rachel's life?
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NO HOLDS BARRED
Montana Men Book 2
Jaydyn Chelcee
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way you’re a mile away, and you have their shoes too.
~Cowgirl Quotes
Mid-Oct.
Reno, Nevada
Friday 8:00 p.m.
Kaycee Spencer pushed herself to her knees on the living room carpet and touched her tender cheek. Her eyes watered and her nose burned. She waited for the pain to subside.
Damn Taylor and his unpredictable temper.
She struggled to her feet, hampered by the full-skirted dress twisted around her knees. Straightening her shoulders, she untangled herself and turned to face her brother.
With a soft hiss, she released a pent up breath.
She fought against breaking down and bawling like a baby, feeling sorry for herself was a waste of time. Her brother hated her despite all efforts to regain his love and respect. Nothing worked.
Taylor’s dark brows furrowed above his electric-blue gaze, his masculine lips tightened into a thin cruel line. Mixed with the ‘pity me’ attitude were obvious signs of genuine pain and suffering. Their lives were meshed, not only by blood but by a tragedy that left nothing but a prevailing, oppressive atmosphere around them.
And choking guilt. Hers.
Things grew uglier between them daily.
She waited for the lip service that always followed his bouts of anger, and she bit her lip to keep from yelling at him.
“Damn it, sis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
Not a hint of regret in his icy gaze or his tone of voice, at least none she could tell. Kaycee blew out a puff of air and tried to remain calm. Losing her temper would accomplish little, but she had no intention of allowing him to get by with his pettiness. “I know you’re not sorry, so don’t pretend.”
For a moment, his eyes widened. She never retaliated when he said or did something mean to her, so her response had to shock him. He’d better get used to it because from now on, things were going to be different.
She patted the spot on her cheek where Taylor’s elbow struck her. It felt puffy. She sighed, hoping it wouldn’t bruise. An ice pack might help, but she didn’t have time. Besides, it’d ruin what little make-up she’d applied.
Her anger bubbled. “If you’d just quit struggling when I try to help you, this w
ouldn’t happen. I have a job interview in an hour, Taylor. How will it look if I show up with a black eye?”
“Forget the interview. Who interviews at nine o’clock at night? I don’t want you to go.”
“Of course, you don’t,” Kaycee snapped. “You’d much rather I stay here so you can take your frustration out on me.”
Taylor’s control over his anger toward her slipped more and more with each passing day. His mood swings kept her guessing and on edge. Sometimes he was despondent and a bully, other times he was simply the brother she knew and loved.
Tonight, he was in a stubbornly foul mood—rattlesnake mean and ready to strike without provocation.
She was at her wit’s end about what to do to help him. Being his whipping boy wasn’t the answer. It was past time she fought back. Tough love. Damn, she hated those two words. He’d pushed her around for a year, but no more. She had to find the strength to start standing up to him. It was her only choice.
Kaycee brushed an errant curl from her face with an unsteady hand. “I understand you don’t want to be alone, but this is the only time Duel could arrange for me to meet his brother.”
Taylor scowled. “Knowing Duel’s reputation with the ladies, he’s probably got more on his mind than a job interview. Look how you’re dressed. Christ, you look like a damned hooker. You go out wearing that, it’ll get you in trouble.”
Kaycee slanted a glance at her dress. “It’s the best thing I have to wear and I don’t look like a hooker. Duel isn’t interested in me romantically. He’s just being kind and trying to help.”
“I bet he’s just being kind.”
Kaycee locked gazes with her brother. “Stop it. Duel can have any woman he wants. He certainly isn’t interested in an exhausted horse trainer who looks like a ragamuffin most of the time.”
She patted his shoulder.
He stiffened beneath her touch. “Leave me alone. How many times do I have to tell you not to touch me?”
Tiredness crept over her like late evening shadows. She swallowed the lump in her throat. Defeated, she withdrew her hand, sighed, and decided against a rebuttal. She didn’t have time to get into a full-blown argument with her brother. Still, his comment niggled at her. “I’ve seen the ‘ladies’ who work the streets of Reno. I don’t look anything like them.”
Wanton, maybe, but certainly not cheap, used up, or burned out on drugs.
She nibbled her lip, removing the pale pink lip-gloss she’d applied minutes earlier. At least, she prayed she didn’t look like a hooker. She couldn’t afford to blow this interview, but it was either the dress or thread-bare jeans.
Kaycee grabbed her small evening bag and fished out the truck keys. “I have to go, Taylor. A lot is resting on this job. I need it. You know I need it.”
“Don’t go. What if I need you?”
“You want to eat?” she shot back, her patience at an end. She felt like his mother for Christ’s sake. Her brother needed to wake up and face the reality of their situation—make up his mind. One minute he didn’t want her help, the next he worried over the fact he might need her. Talk about driving a person insane.
Taylor’s head sagged. “I don’t care.”
Kaycee blew out another puff of air and grasped the handles of his wheelchair. “Come on, I’ll help you to bed before I go.”She turned and pushed him down the narrow hallway toward his bedroom.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Jesus—”
“I don’t want your help!”
Kaycee ignored him and turned the wheelchair into his room. “I’ll help you. You might fall trying to do it yourself.”
“You think I’d feel it?”
“Yes, I think you’d feel it.” She leaned around his shoulders to glare at him. “Just because your legs are…” her voice faltered as she saw temper flare in his eyes.
“Dead? You can say it.”
“They aren’t dead.” She bit her lip. Damn, here it comes.
“The hell they’re not, and you know who’s to blame?”
“Don’t.” Her breath hitched. “It was an accident.”
“Do you have any idea how much I despise you for that?”
“You remind me daily.”
The poisoned darts of his hatred pierced her heart—nothing she hadn’t felt before, but each word seemed more brutal—took its toll and beat her down into the quagmire that choked her of life.
She struggled against the urge to flee. Or cry. Either was a sign of defeat, and she refused to go there. She slid her arms underneath Taylor’s shoulders and transferred him to the side of the bed. “Reach for the bar.”
Taylor pushed her hands away and grabbed the trapeze bar suspended over the hospital-size bed. He pulled himself upright then fell back against the pillow. His breathing grew rapid from the exertion.
If she remained much longer she’d give in to the urge to cry. Watching the cruel alteration in her brother’s personality worsen each day overwhelmed her. She clenched her fingers against the urge to scoop back the dark hair spilling across the brightness of the pillowcase. Taylor’s face looked so pale he nearly disappeared into the bedding. Rather than argue, she wanted to beg him not to give up, but to what end?
Taylor would still be crippled, and his resentment would only increase.
“It should be you in that chair,” he said raggedly. “Not me.”
She swallowed the hurt. It should be her. Would that make him happy? She went into the bathroom, returned with a urinal and placed it on the bedside table.
“I know.” She vowed to be tougher tomorrow. Tonight, she didn’t have the stamina to fight with him. She made sure his water pitcher was full and had plenty of ice. “If it makes you feel better to blame me, then go ahead.”
“Yes! Hell, yes, it makes me feel better!” He spit the bitter words at her like bullets. “It’s the only happiness I have to look forward to. Leave. Go to your precious interview. While you’re gone, I’ll pray you don’t get the job, that you lose something you want and need badly.”
Kaycee ignored his hurtful comment and turned to rummage through the bedside drawer. She pulled out a bottle of prescription sleeping capsules, popped the lid on the top and poured one in her hand. She held out her palm and watched as he snatched it up and plopped it inside his mouth.
“Here.” She poured a glass of water.
He swallowed the pill, then flopped back on the pillow and closed his eyes.
“Get out.”
Kaycee whirled and stormed across the room. She vowed not to cry but unshed tears scalded the back of her eyelids. Pausing at the door, she turned back to face him. “Your pajamas are beside you on the bed.”
“I’m not blind.”
She drew a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “You better pray I get the job or there will be no more physical therapy for you. We’re broke. Your insurance ran out last month. I’m not doing this for me.”
Taylor pulled himself up, tore off his shirt, balled it up, and tossed it in a corner. “Keep telling yourself that, Sis. I might even believe you. You’re trying to soothe your conscience. You not only crippled me, but you murdered Dad, too. The police might only believe you’re guilty, but I know you’re responsible.” He glared at her with hatred blazing in his eyes. “I’m stuck in the house with a murderess. How can you live with yourself?”
Kaycee closed the door behind her, unable to ignore her brother’s bitter words, his hostility or his terrible accusations. She finally gave into the tears that had threatened for the last thirty minutes.
How could he accuse her of murdering their father? This had to end and soon. She swiped away tears and squared her shoulders. No more of these nasty allegations she vowed.
Tomorrow, they were going to have a long talk. True, the wreck had been her fault. She’d been distracted, chatting on her cell phone and had pulled out in front of the semi-truck. Taylor had every right to blame her for his condition, but she couldn’t change anything that had happened.
>
It didn’t give him the right to yell or push her down when he felt like it, or accuse her of killing their father. He’d deliberately put a bullet through his brain. How was that her fault?
They had to move on with their lives and make the best of a bad situation. Damn it! She needed this job, not only to provide for herself and Taylor, but she needed it to escape her brother’s constant accusations.
She needed Kaycee time.
There was worse danger going on around them than Taylor realized. How things became so critical so fast still shook her. It was like someone had marched into her life, decided to destroy it, and now watched her every move to prevent an escape.
He watched her every move. She knew it.
She was in worse trouble than her brother could ever imagine, and it had nothing to do with him or their father’s suicide. If she didn’t find a way to get them both out of Reno, she’d end up dead.
Chapter Two
You can’t keep trouble from visitin’ but you don’t have to offer it a chair.
~Cowboy Quotes
Double Deuce Casino
Reno, Nevada
Friday 8:10 p.m.
Jace Remington snatched the black Stetson off the Chippendale table and jammed it on his head with savage force. By God, he’d put up with a lot of crap from his brother the last couple of years, but this time, Duel had gone too far.
Christ, but he’d had a bellyful of his brother’s persistent attempts at matchmaking. As far as he was concerned, Duel had crossed the line with this latest stunt. If he kept trying to set him up with blind dates or continued to send women to the Dancing Star Ranch, then he wasn’t going to be responsible for his actions.
