Lawless Hearts

Lawless Hearts Scharlie Thorn is the local schoolteacher of Rock Ridge, Missouri, who everyone looks at with pity. When she was fourteen, her stepfather attacked her, scarring her face. Her brother, Harlow, accidentally killed him while defending Scharlie, forcing him to run from the law. Ten years later, she is visited by two handsome men, Cassidy Brooks and Garrett Webb, who come to tell her that Harlow has been murdered. But the man who killed Harlow is now after Scharlie. As the two men try to keep Scharlie safe, she learns that they are outlaws. And worse, Harlow was an outlaw, too. Scharlie has decisions to make. Does she trust Cassidy and Garrett when they tell her they love her? Or will she hand them over to the law? More than her life is at stake. Her heart is on the line, too. Genre: Historical, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys Length: 27,792 words

LAWLESS HEARTS

Beth D. Carter

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

LAWLESS HEARTS Copyright © 2011 by Beth D. Carter E-book ISBN: 1-61034-729-3 First E-book Publication: September 2011 Cover design by Jinger Heaston All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc. 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 Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com

Letter to Readers Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Lawless Hearts by Beth D. Carter from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Regarding E-book Piracy This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book. The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment. This is Beth D. Carter’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Carter’s right to earn a living from her work. Amanda Hilton, Publisher www.SirenPublishing.com www.BookStrand.com

DEDICATION My thanks to Siren.

AUTHOR’S NOTE There is some question as to when the game Truth or Dare, the game Scharlie, Garrett, and Cassidy play in the cellar, was invented. There seems to be no right or wrong answer. Regardless of when, I took the liberty of incorporating it into Lawless Hearts, which is set in the 1880s.

LAWLESS HEARTS BETH D. CARTER Copyright © 2011

Chapter One “Here ya go, Scharlie,” Tom Kern, the storekeep, said as he laid two stacks of brown, wrapped bundles on the counter. “They came in just an hour ago.” Scharlie Thorn smiled and gave a large sigh of pleasure. Finally, after waiting for five months, the new books had arrived. “Thanks so much,” she said, reaching out a gloved hand to touch one bundle almost reverently. “What are they?” “Hm? Oh, books, for the children,” she answered. Tom scratched his head. “You pay for these yourself? ’Cause I don’t remember sending money in with Tommy.” “These books are at no cost for the parishioners of Stoddard County, Tom. Just my way of helping the children learn.” She smiled at him, and she saw his eyes flicker over to the right side of her face. The old shame of her scar reared its ugly head, and she couldn’t help but turn her head away, trying to hide the ugliness on her face, which was ridiculous because there simply wasn’t a way to eradicate her disfigurement. Her stepfather had made sure of that when he had cut her. “Here, let me put them in your wagon,” Tom offered, coming around the counter and grabbing the heavy book stacks.

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“Thank you,” Scharlie mumbled, following after him but keeping her head bent. Usually, she wasn’t so embarrassed about how her life had turned out. She knew the people of Rock Ridge had grown used to seeing her and the scar that ran from her temple, down her cheek, to bisect her upper lip. She had more than gotten used to the pitying looks cast her way. But being around Tom was different because when she had been fourteen, she had been smitten with the blond-haired, blue-eyed young man. Of course, a world of change had happened since that summer, least of which had been eighteen-year-old Tom falling for Angie Bursting. Now she taught their son. “Much obliged,” she mumbled and turned to climb into the wagon. “Scharlie!” came the breathless call from Tom’s beautiful wife, Angie, as she raced out of the general store. “I have a letter for you!” Scharlie kept her eyes averted from Tom as she reached down to take the letter that Angie held out to her. There wasn’t a return address, but the postal mark came from St. Louis. “Thank you, Angie,” she said as she slipped the letter into the pocket of her skirt. She knew Angie and Tom waved at her, but she didn’t even spare them another glance as she headed out of town toward her little home located about a mile west. She rode for a while, trying hard not to think of anything. She didn’t like to remember how that long-ago summer had changed everything. Lots of things she could forget, forgive, but her brother forever branded a killer wasn’t one of them. If she could dig up her dead stepfather and kill him all over again, she would. A low rumble raced across the ground. Scharlie looked skyward, which seemed to be turning an ugly color that she didn’t like. She flicked the horses’ reins, urging them to move a little faster since she preferred not to be stuck in the downpour when it hit. She’d had a

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long day at the schoolhouse, and all she longed to do that night was take a hot bath and go to sleep early. As her horse and cart trotted down the dirt road that led to her cozy little house, Scharlie noticed a shape lying in her path. As she neared, she pulled on the reins, coming to a stop. The wind whipped furiously at her as she applied the brake and then stepped down onto the road. It was a deer, a doe, and Scharlie realized that it was dead. The blacks of the eyes had already started to glaze over to white. From the back, the animal looked like she was sleeping. Scharlie walked around the poor creature and then abruptly stopped, the breath swooshing from her lungs. The doe’s face had been slashed from the high forehead, over the snout, and into the lip. Scharlie put a hand up to her scar as her stomach rolled. The wound looked eerily similar to her own. She spun around, looking for…for what, she didn’t know. But suddenly she felt too vulnerable out in the open. As chill bumps settled over her skin, she hurried back to her cart. With a deft flick of the reins, she maneuvered around the carcass without looking at it. When she reached her house, she placed the books inside the door and then ran to unhitch her horse. She secured him and her cow in the small barn before running to close up the chicken coop. Though she had a lot of land, she only had the necessary animals to maintain living in the small house that had belonged to her parents. She and her brother, Harlow, had been born here, had grown up here, and she couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. The heavens broke as she hurried inside. Scharlie breathed a sigh of relief and then proceeded to secure her little home. The unease from earlier lingered, though she didn’t know why. It wasn’t like anything had happened. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that the doe’s wound wasn’t accidental. Southeast Missouri lay on the border where tornadoes frequented through the central region of America, close enough to take the

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storms seriously. After securing the windows and door, she grabbed a traveling bag and stuffed it with a blanket, a change of clothes, a flask of water, and some dried jerky. Then she peeled back the rug that hid the storm cellar door in the kitchen and opened it. She hadn’t been down there in a few weeks, and a musty smell wafted upward. She lit a lamp and walked down the ten steps to place her traveling bag on the shelves. Next she moved the books as well, because after taking four months to get them, she’d be damned if she’d lose them to the weather. She blew out the lamp and left it there, using the light streaming from the open hatch to guide her way back up. While the wind howled and the rain battered her tin roof, Scharlie settled in for the night. She took off her confining dress, unbraided her long, dark hair, and curled up on her bed in her shift with the book hidden under her bed. The book had been dog-eared so much that the corners had turned brittle. The title had once been velvet on the front but had long since been rubbed off. And inside, the pages were the steamiest, the raunchiest acts Scharlie could wrap her mind around. Depraved acts of human nature and more than just sex, the book was a collection of stories from prostitutes, delineating the innermost aspects of not only the marriage bed, but what came after. It explained, in explicit detail, what men really craved away from their staid, puritan wives. It had come to her in the most casual, most innocent of ways. She had ordered one book and received this one, the velvet-titled one. At first she had been appalled, then curious, and then turned on. Ever since, she had faithfully read her book and fantasized. She had learned new words for private body parts, had learned to explore them. Though she wasn’t quite sure why the book had been written, Scharlie was only thankful it had found its way into her hands. She turned to her favorite story where two men pleasured one woman. The concept was mind-boggling. But it churned her stomach in a delightful way. As she read, her hand slid along her thighs, the

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nails lightly brushing over her skin, until her fingertips found the curls hiding her sex. John bends his head down to me and captures my lips in a deep kiss. He sweeps me up into his arms, and they take me upstairs. Scharlie’s fingers found their way past her damp curls to the nook hidden by the now swollen lips. Sam reaches out to grab the edge of my shirt and pulls it over my head. I stand naked, feeling powerful as each of them stares at me in hunger, looking as if they are going to devour me whole. “Now you,” I whisper. The men take off their shirts as well, and they are close enough that their arms brush each other as they reach out to caress me. Sam reaches out to tweak my erect nipples. John bends down and takes one nipple into his mouth, licking and lavishing it with care. Juice already coated the tiny bundle of nerves. Sharlie pressed lightly, teasing it, rubbing it up and down as she continued to read. While John takes charge up top, Sam unties my pantaloons and eases them down, divesting me of all clothes. I shiver as he brushes his fingers over my slit in a teasing swipe. I undulate my hips, and before I know it, he is on his knees, widening my stance to suck my clit into his mouth. Scharlie pressed one finger into her own slit, adding pressure to the area, causing her hips to buck slightly. With one man sucking my tits and one sucking my clit, I am in total madness. My knees buckle as a tidal wave of bliss rolls over me, and I feel John reach out to hold me up. Then, somehow, without letting go of me and the places they are ravaging, they maneuver me to the bed and we all fall upon it with a small squeak of the hinges. John leaves my breasts and makes his way up to my mouth, kissing me deeply. I feel Sam’s fingers as they probe me, my juices coating his hand. The pressure is too much for me and builds too rapidly for me to fully appreciate what these two men are doing to me. “Did you like your tongue bath, Beauty?”

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I nod, too breathless for words. I hold out my hands for them, bringing their massive cocks into my waiting hands. Juice is leaking from each tip, so I wet my fingers with it and use it as lube. Up and down my hand travels, slowly, as I learn how to handle both at the same time. In and out Scharlie’s hand started to move, the juices flowing quickly. The scent of musk heavily lined the air. My ministrations bring a moan of pleasure from each man. Emboldened, I dip my head forward and touch Sam’s first with my tongue, and then John’s. Back and forth, I encase each with my velvet mouth. My tongue milks the juice from each slit. “Uhh,” Sam grinds out and places a hand on the back of my head. They have shifted until they are next to each other in front of me, and I am able to place both tips just inside my mouth. My teeth scrape them, and the slight friction makes them jump. John pulls back, letting Sam have full access. With his hand on the back of my head, he pushes all the way in and starts to hump my face. I lie still and let my tongue work on Sam, but I feel John’s hands on me as he tries to maneuver us into a different position. At first I don’t understand, but as Sam reluctantly pulls away and as John shifts me until I turn over, I quickly start to understand the intention. The imagery burst over Scharlie’s mind, increasing her hand movements as she ground down on her clit, rising higher and higher, being wound tight, and waiting for the fall. So I lie on my belly, my heart beating at a rapid pace, and I feel two pairs of hands on my legs, sliding upward and separating them. When they reach where my butt curves, one set of hands gently rubs and massages while the other dips between my cheeks. Fingers gently brush against my puckered hole, and I shiver with a blend of fear and anticipation. One takes me from the front while the other slips into my ass channel. I am too excited to do anything but moan. John leans over me and licks my hole, and I must say, I

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really enjoy that feeling. And then I feel him and I can’t help it—I clench. Scharlie moaned loudly as she fell off the precipice. Cream splashed against her hand as her fingers milked the sensation, her body tightening in a realm of heightened sensitivity. She panted as the book fell from her fingers. Scharlie lay spread-eagle on her bed, languid. Boneless, utterly content, she closed her eyes and let the rhythm of the rain, combined with complete relaxation, lull her off to sleep.

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Chapter Two She wasn’t quite sure what woke her. Scharlie noticed right away that the rain had stopped and that she was quite cold without a fire, but that wasn’t what had dragged her out of a deep slumber. She sat up in bed, dragging the blanket with her, looking around her small home, and listened. And there it came again, the creak of the porch boards outside squeaking as if someone had stepped on them. In a flash, Scharlie was out of bed, ignoring the cold as she wrapped herself in her robe and pulled out her Colt Frontier Six-Shooter with pearl handles from under her mattress. She checked to make sure the chamber had rounds and cocked it, her hand only trembling slightly. She waited. Breath held, nerves strung tight, she heard another set of footfalls behind the house. Flashes of the dead doe streamed through her mind, and she thought about hiding in the cellar but was afraid any noise would cause the unwanted person outside to come barreling in. She had bolted her front door but somehow didn’t think that would hold back anyone determined to come inside. And then there came a knock. Scharlie could only blink through the darkness as another knock sounded on her door. She took a deep breath. She doubted very much that outlaws would actually knock before ransacking the place. She lowered the hammer of the Colt but kept it down at her side. Holding her robe tight at the throat, she walked into the den. “Who’s there?” she called out. The feet outside paused.

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“We’re looking for Scharlie Thorn,” a man replied. “It’s awfully late at night for a visit,” she answered, deliberately not answering his unasked question. “Yes, ma’am,” agreed the voice. “But we’ve come with news of her brother.” Cautiousness evaporated as all other thoughts left her mind. Scharlie hurried to the door and threw back the bolt. As it opened, two tall silhouettes graced the doorway like specters hanging in the shadows. She blinked at the spooky image and then leaned over to light the lamp that rested nearby. The fire threw both men into sharp contrast. The only impression she got was shadowed faces and tired eyes. They both wore hats tipped back. Long dusters fell to brush the porch, and in the dim light, she could see gun belts hugging their waists, the handles of their guns within easy reach. Dark clothes, boots, and spurs rounded out their outfits. Shivers ran down her back, causing her to wonder if she’d been too rash opening the door in the dead of night. “What about my brother?” “You’re Scharlie?” She nodded, her chin lifting. “I won’t let you in until you tell me about Harlow.” The man in front sighed, closed his eyes briefly, then reached up to remove his hat. The man behind him followed suit. A burning started in Scharlie’s belly, and she suddenly didn’t want to hear what these men had to say. “Can we come in, Scharlie? I don’t want to say what I have to say out here on the porch.” Just like that, she knew what they were going to tell her. Her shoulders slumping, she stood back from the door to let both men in. Once they were inside, she closed the door and marched toward the fireplace, placing the gun on the mantel. Part of her wanted to put off their words. Another part hoped by making a fire that the cold that had settled into her heart would thaw. She stacked kindling and lit a

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match, teasing the dry twigs and leaves until they caught, and then placed a couple of small pieces of wood to make sure the fire would grow bright. When she finally turned around, she saw that the men watched her intently. Her heart jumped into her throat when she realized how good-looking they were. The first one, the one who had addressed her at the door, had wheat-colored hair, wavy, even though it was presently all mashed down from the hat. His blue eyes regarded her solemnly. The other one was the complete opposite. Asian features dominated the grim face that stared at her. She saw his eyes flicker over the left side of her face, and she turned her head, out of habit, to hide the scar as much as possible. “My name is Cassidy Brooks,” said the blond. “This here’s Garrett Webb. You’re Scharlie.” It wasn’t a question. “Harlow’s dead, isn’t he?” Scharlie asked in a tired, deflated voice. They took a long time to answer, but finally, Cassidy Brooks stepped forward and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” he replied softly. She held stiff for a moment, letting that confirmation wash over her. The word gathered speed until it became a bullet through her resistance, and then she crumbled. Cassidy caught her as she fell forward. Tears welled up in her eyes, and her face crumbled into the misery pulling at her. He had left because he had defended her. Now he lay dead somewhere unknown. He had once been the light of her world, her protector, but evil had taken him away. Scharlie felt herself being lifted, but she didn’t care. Nothing else seemed to matter anymore. For years, she had existed on when Harlow would come back home, but now he never would, and the pain was almost unbearable. Cassidy sat down in a chair with her still wrapped in his arms, rocking her. Gradually, the tears trickled down, and she grew quiet, staring at nothing, her gaze slightly unfocused.

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“How?” she finally asked, her voice husky. She heard another chair placed in front of where she sat, and a hand wiped away the damp hair curling around her face. Her eyes flickered over to see the dark man, Garrett, who ran his thumb up and down her cheek. “A man by the name of Breaux Cox shot him in the back,” Garrett told her softly. “Why?” Garrett swallowed. She could see his Adam’s apple move as he cleared his throat. “Cox is a dangerous man. He and Harlow got into a disagreement, and when Harlow tried to walk away, Cox shot him.” “A disagreement,” Scharlie repeated. “He was killed over something petty?” Garrett didn’t answer, but he didn’t really need to. She saw the answer on his face. Scharlie sat up, pulling away from the warmth of Cassidy’s broad chest. Her eyes wandered around the cabin while memories of Harlow as a young boy played over and over in her mind. What was she supposed to do now? She got off Cassidy’s knees and walked aimlessly around the little room, touching things as she passed, things that reminded her of Harlow, one of his wooden animals from his childhood and a photograph sitting in a tintype frame. She picked up the photograph of the smiling young man and collapsed upon her knees, hugging the picture to her chest. She started crying great, heaving sobs. She was unaware of being lifted in strong arms. Her heart broke for her lost brother, the one unable to come home and the man unable to find peace, all because of a man who had dared to touch her. All of it, all of his pain and suffering and his death, was her fault. She wept until she passed out from exhaustion.

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Chapter Three Consciousness floated over gently, forcing her to wake. Scharlie blinked as the room came into focus. There were shadows in the room, and humidity caused her hair to stick to her forehead. She didn’t have to look outside to know that a storm was brewing. She was quite used to Missouri summers. Had it all been a nightmare? She fervently hoped so. She pushed herself into a sitting position, wincing from the headache thundering through her brain. Her eyes felt scratchy, and she wondered if she was coming down with a fever. The sound of chopping wood came from outside, causing Scharlie to tense. Immediately, images of the two mercenary-looking men from last night flooded her mind, and she realized Harlow’s death hadn’t been a dream. Her brother was dead. It had been ten years since she’d last seen him, though he often sent letters. She had received one only a few months ago letting her know he was okay and doing well living up north in Montana territory. Obviously, that hadn’t been the whole truth. She had been twelve and Harlow had been sixteen when their mother had remarried. From the start Scharlie had hated the way her stepfather had looked at her, and Harlow had also noticed that the man had an unhealthy interest in her. But their mother had worked her fingers to the bone trying to keep hold of the ranch, and finally, she had just given up. Two years later Scharlie had been attacked by the man who had moved into their home, but by that time the situation

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had been a tinderbox ready to explode. And when it had, Scharlie had been disfigured, their stepfather lay dead, and Harlow had run away. She sighed and rose, wrapping her robe around her body before she made her way to the front room. On the stove top, coffee warmed in a kettle, scenting the air with a tantalizing aroma too good to ignore. Scharlie poured herself a mug before walking to the window. She deliberately did not look at Harlow’s things. She slipped a finger at the edge of the curtain to take a peek at the men in her yard. The day was indeed overcast, dreary. The first person she saw was Garrett. He chopped wood, minus his shirt. His golden skin gleamed in the sun, reminding her of polished bronze. His long hair glistened almost blue in the sun. He lined up the logs on a stump and then swung the ax overhead, cutting the piece in half with one swing. She watched the play of muscles over his arms and back, seeing the sweat track its way down his smooth skin to disappear in the low ride of his pants. Just then, Cassidy came from around the side of the house. Like Garrett, he was shirtless as well, his muscles more streamlined than his partner, but just as compelling. Blond, curly hair covered Cassidy’s chest, spiraling down to a line that disappeared at the top of his trousers. An air of danger surrounded them. She had sensed it last night, even through her grief, and she wondered at the relationship these two men had with Harlow. Her brother had never mentioned them in his letters, but then again, he had never really gone into too much depth about his life. Harlow had kept his words light, almost meaningless, though she valued and treasured every bit of news he shared. She turned from the window and went back to her room. She dressed in a dark walking dress with a half jacket buttoned up the front that allowed her white blouse to peek over the top and around her wrists. She was thin enough that she didn’t need to wear a corset with it, and the skirts were heavy enough that she could go without

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petticoats. She put on her boots and tied up the laces before squaring her shoulders and leaving her sanctuary behind. The men were still outside, still working, by the sounds of it, so she knew they had to be hungry. Etiquette demanded that she at least provided refreshments and food before they left, a way of thanking them for letting her know about Harlow, as well as cleaning up some of the yard. Scharlie had to admit that she had let the property become neglected recently, but only because her students demanded much of her attention. She was dedicated in helping the children, and a lot of them stayed after school for her extra tutoring sessions in reading and arithmetic. She knew that the majority of her students would never leave the small community of Rock Ridge, Missouri. They would follow in their parents’ shoes of being farmers and small ranchers. Many parents thought it a waste of time to learn how to read, but Scharlie had held firm and had finally convinced the majority of the townsfolk that earning an education was essential. Living on the large farm wasn’t really practical for Scharlie, and she knew that. But something wouldn’t let her sell the place where she had been born and raised, even if most of the fields were overrun with weeds. She had her little chicken coop for eggs, her cow for milk and cream, and she had her horse to get her where she needed to go. Breakfast didn’t take long to cook. She already had biscuits in the pantry, so she fried some eggs and heated up some beans before calling Garrett and Cassidy in. As she set the table, the men ambled in. Scharlie noted with a great degree of relief that they had put their shirts back on. “You didn’t have to cook for us,” Garrett said. Scharlie shrugged. “The least I could do. You tracked me down to tell me of Harlow when you could have easily sent a telegram.” “He was like a brother to us,” Cassidy replied. “He would have wanted us to take care of you.”

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Tears sprung unexpectedly into her eyes, so Scharlie hurried and sat to hide from having to look at the two men. She cleared her throat. “He talked about me?” Cassidy and Garrett sat as well. “Yes,” Cassidy said. “All the time,” Garrett added. “Did he…did he ever talk harshly about me?” “What do you mean?” Cassidy asked. Scharlie looked at him. Deliberately she ran a hand down the scar of her face. “I was the one that forced him to leave Missouri, leave his home. Did he hate me for what happened?” Garrett immediately shook his head. “Absolutely not!” Cassidy snatched the hand. His thumb rubbed soothingly over her skin. “Garrett’s right, Scharlie. Harlow only talked lovingly about you.” The sincerity shining in their eyes was honest. Scharlie’s shoulders relaxed. A weight she hadn’t thought she carried eased from her chest, and for the first time in years, her scarred face didn’t hurt so much. When Cassidy didn’t let go of her hand, she looked questioningly at him. His gaze met hers, and the moment abruptly changed from loving and warm to charged and electric. Tingles shot up her arm that caused her heart to thump heavily. The air between them grew thick as sexual tension crackled. Unbidden, thoughts of her book rose in her mind, and she snuck a quick glance, first at Cassidy and then at Garrett. Both men watched her closely, and though she wasn’t worldly or wise, the hunger shining brightly was unmistakable. Scharlie cleared her throat and pulled her hand from Cassidy’s. Immediately, she felt bereft without the warmth of his touch and strived to find her footing again. “What, um, what nationality are you, Garrett?”

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Garrett gave her a slow, sexy smile. She could tell from the predatory glint in his eyes that he recognized her arousal. “My mother was Chinese. My father was a miner she took care of. Even though it wasn’t the thing to do, he married her. Unfortunately I didn’t really know him. He died in a mining accident a month after I was born.” “I’m so sorry,” she said sincerely. He shrugged. “It happened a long time ago.” “And how did you both meet Harlow?” She saw Garrett throw a questioning look at Cassidy, and when she looked at Cassidy, she saw him give a minute shake of his head. “We met up on a ranch,” Garrett replied. Scharlie stiffened because she instinctively knew he’d lied. His eyes had shifted away, and his voice had fallen flat. Why did they not trust her enough to tell the truth? Or maybe Harlow’s relationship wasn’t exactly how they described it. She only had their word on it, in fact. What did she really know of these men? They finished the meal in silence. When they were done, Garrett and Cassidy went back outside to finish their work before the rains started, leaving Scharlie to clean up, as well as wonder how long they planned to stay.

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Chapter Four The promised storm broke late in the day, coating the land prematurely in darkness. Hail suddenly pounded the land, producing sharp staccato blasts against the roof. One window shutter slammed against the pane, producing a brittle cracking sound. Scharlie jumped. She swore and raced outside to secure the rest of the shutters before any glass broke. Cassidy helped her then grabbed her hand to bring her inside the house. “The storm’s coming in fast,” Garrett said as he followed them in. Just then, the hail and wind abruptly died, and an eerie silence descended. The room felt charged, electric, and a flash of light suddenly ignited the dark. Cassidy opened the door again with Garrett and Scharlie on his heels. Outside, Scharlie saw the sky was a greenish-black color, the clouds hanging thick but moving rapidly. More bright flashes of light struck the ground not too far in the distance. And then, suddenly, the wind picked up so quickly Scharlie had to grab hold of Garrett to maintain her balance. “Scharlie, do you have a cellar?” Cassidy urgently asked. “In the kitchen, under the rug,” she answered and watched as he ran to uncover it. If possible, the wind outside picked up speed, slamming into the house with monstrous force. She realized that this wasn’t just a drill, that a tornado was bearing down on them and she’d done nothing to secure the livestock she had. “My animals!” Scharlie cried and ran for the door. “Scharlie!” Cassidy called out.

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But his warning came a little late. The wind caught hold of the door and ripped it from her hands. The wind whipped mercilessly at her hair and skirts, pulling her forward into the whirling nightmare. She frantically reached for the doorframe and screamed just as Garrett grabbed her around the waist and managed to slam the door shut. “Move!” Cassidy yelled. She saw Garrett grab his and Cassidy’s gear, as well as a Winchester rifle. They all hurried down the cellar steps and had just managed to secure the door when a ferocious sound blasted over them. Garrett still held on to her waist and dragged her back from the stairs until he bumped into the wall. The cellar was pitch black and smelled of rich earth. Scharlie shivered a little despite being wrapped in Garrett’s warm arms. The storm raged overhead, terrible and terrifying. Cassidy lit one of the many lamps stored in the cellar to give them some light to open up the blankets and set all of them up for the night. Tears ran down Scharlie’s face as she contemplated the idea that her house was gone. “It’s going to be all right,” Cassidy assured her. “I didn’t get a chance to grab Harlow’s photo,” she whispered. Garrett tightened his arms around her, a silent offering of support. After a few hours, all sounds of the storm had ceased. Garrett sat upon the blanket, his back to the wall, with Scharlie’s head in his lap. He rhythmically fanned his fingers through her long hair, and the soothing gesture helped keep her calm through the more terrifying hours. Cassidy had his hands on his hips, staring at the bolted cellar door. “Scharlie, is there another way out of here that I’ve somehow overlooked?” Scharlie pushed into a sitting position, her long hair tumbling over her shoulders in waves. “No, that door is the only way.” Cassidy sighed, ran a hand through his tousled curls. Then he braced his right shoulder against the door and pushed, a grunt seeping

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through his clenched teeth as he strained. Garrett jumped to his feet to help him. “One, two,” Cassidy counted. “Push!” Both men strained, but as hard as they tried, the door remained immobile. “Shit!” Cassidy hissed as they gave up pushing. He rubbed his shoulder. “You think the house came down?” Garrett asked. This time it was he who stood with his hands on his hips and stared at the door. “Well, something’s blocking our exit.” He walked over to the shelves on the far wall. “At least there’s enough food down here to last us for a few days. And we can drink the juices.” “I preserve a lot in the spring,” Scharlie mumbled inanely. She drew her knees up and encircled them with her arms. “For the winter.” Cassidy kicked the dirt floor. “We can set up a latrine in that far corner.” “Excuse me?” Scharlie gasped. He raised an eyebrow, humor brightening his eyes. “Basic need, sweetheart. We all gotta do it. At least we can dig a hole and set up a privacy blanket.” The idea of going behind the privacy blanket and having them know what she was doing brought red heat to her entire face. She hid it behind a hand as she bent her head and rubbed her forehead to ease the sudden tension that gripped her. “So you think we’re going to be here for a while,” she surmised. “I think it’s possible.” “You’re a teacher, right?” Garrett asked, but continued before she could answer. “It might take a few days, but when you don’t show up for school, someone will come investigate.” She let out a breath and rose to her feet to join them, examining the cellar as well. She also kept it for storage, so there were various items down here, like extra lamps, extra cooking items, dolls and

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clothes she had outgrown, but luckily extra blankets and tools she needed for winter. While Cassidy built the latrine, Garrett made them a lean-to for sleeping. Scharlie’s heart thudded when she realized he had only made one big bed for all of them instead of individual pallets. She organized the food and water supplies, trying very hard not to let the circumstances overwhelm her. Her hands shook, but she took several deep breaths to calm her nerves. Scharlie couldn’t imagine what she would have done had she been alone when the storm hit. She liked to think she would have been smart and done all the things that Cassidy and Garrett were taking care of, but then she remembered her actions with the door. Had she gone outside to try to save her animals, there was a good chance she wouldn’t have survived. She peeked over her shoulders to the two cowboys. The situation of being alone with two men suddenly dawned on her, and she couldn’t help her mind flashing to her book. The stories poured through her head, causing her skin to flash hot and cold. Her heart thudded, and an ache pulsed between her legs that begged for her hand to slide in and tease her clit until an orgasm brought relief. But she had to settle for crossing her legs against the throb that wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to ignore it. “Why don’t we all settle down, get comfortable, and catch some sleep,” Cassidy said as he wiped his hands on a rag. Scharlie looked at the pile of blankets that would protect them from the cool ground. “Sleep. Together?” Cassidy crooked an eyebrow. He shot a glance over to Garrett, and Scharlie followed it. The two men exchanged a look that she couldn’t exactly identify. “We’d never hurt you, Scharlie,” Garrett murmured as he came to her side.

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She swallowed thickly, her heart racing. “How do I know that? How do I know everything you’ve told me hasn’t been a lie?” “Perfectly good question,” Cassidy said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a locket. He held it out to her. Scharlie knew that locket. It had belonged to her mother. With shaking hands, she took it, her thumb rubbing over the gold filigree lid. Carefully, reverently, she opened it and saw her baby portrait, as well as Harlow’s, side by side. “He once told me that you had been the most beautiful baby,” Cassidy said in a soft voice. “And that you rarely ever cried. All he had to do was pick you up, and you’d laugh.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. He had said that to her once as well, teasingly, of course. He was always teasing her. She couldn’t imagine he would share information like that unless they were really close friends. “Thank you,” she whispered and closed the locket. “Harlow wanted me to give that back to you,” he said. She cleared her throat and wiped at the tears with the back of her hands. “Um, right. Let’s get some sleep. Maybe someone will come in the morning.” She ignored the knowing look that Cassidy flashed to Garrett.

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Chapter Five The dream was delicious. They were dancing, she and Cassidy. As the music wore on, Scharlie lost her cares, and she gradually noticed that his moves and her moves settled into one rhythm of hips moving in sync, dipping and swaying to more than just the rhythmic beat of the instruments. She looked into his eyes and saw he was looking straight into hers, their clear blue melting into a hazy strip of something fierce. Desire, potent and electric, burned through her. With her eyes focused on Cassidy, she felt rather than saw Garrett move in behind her, the two of them sandwiching her in a pulsating drumbeat that never faltered. When Garrett’s hips pushed into her bottom, her hips pushed into Cassidy’s, and the dance continued on. Something exploded deep within. She reached out and grabbed Cassidy’s face, urging him to lean down to kiss her. She wound her arms around his neck, trapping his hands to her face. Her tongue moved into his mouth, dueling with his for dominance…twisting, sweeping. Her body never stopped moving, except the movements now were tiny whispers of urgent pushes, as if she was seeking something, urging her closer to the flame. Garrett’s hands settled on her hips and molded his groin into her backside. Slowly, he ran his hands up her side until his fingers rested right beneath her breasts. His fingers spread wide over her nipples, teasing them into hard little pebbles. She moaned, wanting more, but he tortured her by only brushing them lightly. Instead, his mouth settled against her neck, nibbling over the sensitive skin. His tongue swept up and down in small circles.

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She whimpered. Her eyes flew open then had to blink against seeing Cassidy’s resting face very close to hers. She swallowed and turned her head very slowly. Garrett’s big body lay on her other side, and the reality that her dream had a basis in fact caused the heat inside her belly to fan into a flame. She felt moisture instantly between her thighs as an ache of longing hit her femininity. Dear God, she wanted them! It was exactly like in her book, being in the middle of both men while they ravished her until pleasure made her faint with satisfaction. Biting back another whimper, she carefully, noiselessly, rose from the sleeping pallet. But there was nowhere to go in the small cellar to escape. She lit a lamp to give light and took advantage of them sleeping to use the latrine. She sat on one of the steps and watched them sleep. Awake, they were powerful men, exuding a sense of dangerous power. But in repose, their faces softened, and the hard shell surrounding them wasn’t quite as brittle. Cassidy lay on his side, his arms wrapped around himself, while Garrett lay sprawled on his back, one hand above his head. She saw that their gun belts were off, though each pearl handle lay within reach. The leather on the belts was worn, the tie-downs soft from use. These men weren’t just ranch workers, she concluded. She’d bet anything that these men knew what it felt like to kill, so it begged the question of what was Harlow’s actual involvement with them? Cassidy moved a bit. Scharlie’s gaze snapped back to him. He stretched, scratched his chest, yawned, and opened his eyes. He looked confusedly around the cellar before his own gaze zeroed on her. He sat up and gave her a lopsided grin. “Mornin’,” he said, his voice husky. “I haven’t slept like that in years.” “Like what?”

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“Deeply. Usually I always sleep with one eye open.” “Or we take turns at watch,” Garrett murmured. He stretched as well before sitting up. He rolled his head on his neck and flexed his shoulders to loosen the muscles. The revelation only confirmed Scharlie’s suspicions. But instead of making her feel frightened, she felt only sadness that Harlow had been reduced to breaking the law to survive. Each man took a turn at the latrine, causing Scharlie to blush a bit and turn away as much as she could in the small area. She busied herself by checking out the food to see what would be best for breakfast. “I’ve got some pickled eggs in here,” she said, pulling down a jar. She had to smile at Garrett as he grimaced after eating one. “I’m much more a fried eggs man,” he said. “And potatoes,” Cassidy replied as he ate another one. “Garrett loves fried potatoes.” “But beggars can’t be choosy,” Garrett muttered. “What’s your favorite breakfast?” she asked Cassidy. “Anything I don’t have to cook,” he said with a chuckle. After eating, the men tried the door again, but no matter how hard they pushed, it didn’t budge. Garrett managed to produce a deck of cards from his vest pocket, and that proved to be a blessing, as there wasn’t much else to do. “Does this beat your full house?” Scharlie asked innocently, showing her five cards. Garrett scowled and tossed down his cards. “A straight beats almost anything. Are you sure you’ve never played?” “That doesn’t mean I don’t know how to win,” she teased. “That doesn’t even make sense,” Cassidy remarked. He had folded almost at once and watched the rest of the game in amusement. So far, out of the eleven games they’d played, Scharlie had won nine. “Tell me your secret,” Garrett demanded.

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Scharlie glanced from one to another, a smile curving her mouth. “Books.” Garrett blinked. “Did you say books?” She nodded. “You can learn anything through books. You just have to know where to find them.” “And you found a book on poker?” Cassidy asked skeptically. “Well, card games in general. But you get the idea.” “And what else have you learned from books?” She hesitated, suddenly uneasy. “Um, lots of things.” She saw the quirk of his left eyebrow and the devilish glint in his baby blues. Her naughty secret flashed through her mind, and she realized that her book was perhaps lost somewhere in the aftermath of the storm. She hoped if it was found that it would be too mangled to recognize what it was. She met Cassidy’s narrowed gaze and smiled. “I have some wonderful novels, if you’re interested. I just got them in the other day.” Garrett picked up the cards and started shuffling them. She watched as he did some fancy moves with them, twirling them around in one hand, then splitting them in half as he fanned them back together. “So, what can we do now?” Tension once again instantly surrounded them. Scharlie cleared her throat and brought her knees up to hook her arms around them. Two pairs of predatory eyes watched her like she was a juicy steak for two hungry tigers. Her heart began racing, and her skin flushed. “How about we play a game that I heard about called Tell the Truth or Do the Dare?” Cassidy asked. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “How is that played?” He reached out and took the deck of cards from Garrett. He flipped up the top one. “We each flip over the top card, and the one with the highest asks the one with the lowest, ‘Do you want to tell the truth, or do you want to do the dare?’” Scharlie cleared her throat. “And, um, what happens then?”

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“Well,” he drawled, smiling, “you have to either answer a question truthfully or you have to do whatever is dared of you. Sound like fun?” “I don’t know if fun is the adjective I’m thinking of,” she replied truthfully. “And I don’t know if I trust you both enough to play such a game.” “Come on, Scharlie,” Garrett murmured in a low, seductive tone. “Here, I’ll even go first.” He reached out and flipped over a card. It was a three of spades. Cassidy flipped the next, showing a five of hearts. “Truth or dare, Garrett?” Garrett raised one eyebrow and studied his friend. “Dare.” “Show Scharlie your fabulous handstand.” Garrett looked around the cellar. “I don’t know if there’s enough room.” Cassidy shrugged. “Do your best.” Garrett stood and reached toward the ceiling. On his toes, he managed to touch it. Then he bent, placed his hands on the ground, and slowly raised his legs, one and then the other, until they were in the air and his feet walked on the ceiling. Scharlie laughed and clapped as Garrett dropped back down and adjusted his clothes. He was smiling at her as he sat. “That’s amazing!” she said. “How did you learn that?” “My mother was part of a traveling performance troupe before she became part of the immigrant trade,” he told her. “She taught me.” “Your turn, Scharlie,” Cassidy said. She picked up a card and flipped it over, showing the nine of hearts. Cassidy turned over a six of spades, and Garrett revealed an eight of clubs. “I won!” she exclaimed. “So, um, truth or dare, Cassidy?” “Dare.” “Oh.” She blinked. “I thought for sure you would pick truth. But what can I dare you do? I don’t know you very well.”

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Cassidy raised an eyebrow as he waited. Scharlie’s mind was blank. Unbidden, memories of the scenes in her book swirled to the forefront of her brain, and a blush heated her cheeks. She shook her head. There was no way she could command him to kiss her, or…or other things. Right? “You can ask him to remove an article of clothing,” Garrett suggested. The words were so close to her racy thoughts that Scharlie inhaled a gulp of breath too quickly, causing her to cough and sputter a little. Garrett reached over and thumped her back. “What?” she squeaked. “There’s a game that’s sometimes played in certain establishments along with poker. Instead of earning money, the losers strip off their clothing.” A full mental picture of men sitting around, naked, holding a handful of cards, flashed through her mind. “Why would men want to play with each other naked?” Cassidy started laughing. Garrett chuckled as he ran a hand over his hair. “Well, sweetheart, the game is played between women and men, so people getting naked is very beneficial.” “Oh,” she murmured, lowering her eyelids. Cassidy reined in his laughter. “So what’s my dare, Scharlie?” “I dare you to remove your clothing,” she whispered. “All my clothing?” She shook her head. “No, of course not! Um, your, er, shoes?” “Just my shoes? That’s not much of a dare.” “It’s daring for me,” she muttered. Keeping his eyes on her, he brought one leg up and proceeded to slide the boot off his foot. Then he hooked one finger into his sock and slowly pulled it down until his perfect toes popped out. Then he mirrored his actions on the other foot. Scharlie cleared her throat. “I didn’t say the socks.”

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Cassidy shrugged. “They’re a bonus—though don’t know how well they smell since I haven’t bathed in two days.” The comment managed to break Scharlie’s tension, and she giggled a little. Garrett held the deck of cards up, and each person flipped over the top one. This time, Garrett came up short, while Scharlie was the winner again. “Dare,” he said before she could even ask. “Okay, the same,” she said. “I dare you to do the same as Cassidy.” “I can do it better than Cass,” Garrett replied, and she thought she heard a touch of boasting in his voice. Cassidy raised an eyebrow, but waited. Garrett stood up, hooked the back of one boot with the front of the other, and it came off cleanly. After he took off the other, he placed both behind him. As he removed his socks, he bent a little to place them on top of his boots, his ass prominent in Scharlie’s line of view. As she looked away, she caught Cassidy smirking at her. When Garrett got settled again, they all flipped over cards, and this time, Scharlie lost, while Cassidy won. “Dare,” she said before he asked, and reached for her shoes. “I dare you to remove your underclothes.” Her right lace-up boot fell from her suddenly numb hand with a thump. Her mouth formed a little O. “E–Excuse me?” she stammered. “Your pantalets. I dare you to remove them.” “Not my shoes?” Cassidy shook his head. “You can’t refuse a dare, Scharlie. This is a game of trust.” She looked helplessly toward Garrett, but got no help from him as he just stared at her challengingly. Should she believe him? Could she do as he asked? “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted in a low voice. “Sure you can, Scharlie. You’re a brave woman.”

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That shook her. Obviously, he didn’t know her at all. Her chin rose, and she stood to reach under her long, heavy skirt and untie her pantalets. They fell with hardly a sound, and she stepped clear of them. The wool of her clothes rubbed against her bare bottom, causing a tantalizing thrill to race across her skin. With a satisfied grin, Cassidy turned over another card, followed by Garrett, and her lastly. Cassidy won again, and Garrett lost. “Dare,” Garrett replied, maintaining Cassidy’s gaze. “I dare you to kiss Scharlie’s thighs.” “What?” she squealed. “Wait a minute—” She didn’t have a chance to say any more as Garrett moved over her. “Lay back. Relax,” he murmured softly into her ear. Scharlie was breathing heavy, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She knew her eyes had to be as round as dinner plates, but she complied, lying back on the pile of blankets as Garrett eased her down. All semblance of the game disappeared from her mind. “If you tell me to stop, I will,” Garrett told her as he trailed fingers down her cheek. “But make sure stopping is what you really want.” He gave her a moment to think it over. A part of her was screaming to do exactly that, to stop and not go any further. She was entering territory only explored previously through imagination. But now she was being offered a chance to enter that world of heightened passion and sensual delights. Once she crossed it, she would be forever different. The only thing that really scared her was wondering if she would be content to relive the memory when Cassidy and Garrett had gone. Then slowly, delicately, each man started nibbling the area behind her ears. Cassidy on her right and Garrett on her left, they gave feathery kisses over her skin, sliding slowly down until reaching the color of her dress. In unison, they each took a portion of the buttons, one man working at the tiny things from her neck to her chest while the other tackled from her chest to her waist. But they must have had

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practice because before she could examine that thought further, Garrett’s hands were climbing up her legs, pushing her skirt up as he traveled. Before she realized what she was doing, her hands came up to halt his progress as modesty reared its ugly head. The moment fast approached where all of her would be exposed. Scharlie’s heart pounded like mad. “Sweetheart?” Garrett inquired as he tipped his head so he could look her in the eye. “What if you don’t like what you see?” she whispered. “That will never happen,” he vowed, and angled his body up to allow him to lower his head and kiss her lightly, tenderly, upon her lips. He didn’t demand more from the kiss than what she allowed, and gradually she relaxed. Garrett’s hands ran up her thighs, pushing her skirt up as he concentrated on her lips, and she felt his thumbs sweeping circles over her skin. He broke the kiss to ease back a little, his dark gaze sweeping over her. Scharlie felt herself blush from head to toe as he became the first man to see a part of her that no one had ever seen before. “Garrett?” A hint of her old fear must have registered in his name. He smiled at her and reached up with both hands to cup her head. “You are amazing, Scharlie,” he said. “Absolutely beautiful.” Then he kissed her. Not the reverent, soothing kiss from before. This kiss was electric, like being struck by lightning. He moved his mouth on hers, pressing apart her lips so that his tongue swept in to meet hers, in and out, alternating with hard pressure and then soft, going bold and then retreating. It was a duel, a dance, a seduction. Scharlie fell. She reached up to wrap her arms around Garrett’s waist, lost in the sensual haze he enveloped around her. This was raw. This was potent. This was sex. After that kiss, after that moment, she never

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looked back. Finally, she had found the reason she had been born, had been made, and it was all for this moment. “Your dare is to kiss her thighs.” Cassidy’s voice broke over her like water, dashing away some of the magic. Garrett looked at his friend and smiled. “I’m getting there.” Scharlie looked between them, slightly bewildered. “Is he just going to sit there?” “He, ah, is more of a voyeur,” Garrett told her. “A what?” “He likes to watch. To organize while he enjoys the fruits of his manipulation.” She looked at Cassidy, who watched them with glittering eyes. “But he couldn’t have known the outcome of the game.” Garrett leaned in to whisper in her ear. “I’m very good with a deck of cards.” She blinked. “You cheated?” “I stacked the deck.” “You cheated.” He chuckled. “Do you mind?” With her arms around his neck and his body fitting intimately against hers, she was rapidly losing focus on the conversation. She shook her head. “But I don’t know if I ever want to play cards with you again.” “Deal,” he said, and then all conversation ceased as he claimed her lips with his. The kiss was raw, passionate. It dominated her senses until all thought fled, leaving Scharlie on a tightrope of pure lust. His hands started working the many buttons on her blouse, his big, blunt fingers able to maneuver the tiny holes until all that covered her was her chemise. Garrett broke the kiss to travel down her neck, then to her chest, where the material barely covered her heaving breasts. Then lightly, almost reverently, he took her areola into his wet mouth,

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cotton and all. Scharlie gasped, her back arched, as he tenderly bit the puckered center, tugging it through the thin chemise. His fingers came up to open the top of her gown, and Scharlie moaned as he latched onto bare skin. He sucked hard, causing her to just about jump out of her skin. She wiggled and begged for more. There was a direct sensation from her nipples to her pussy, a somewhat unfulfilled feeling that demanded to be satisfied. She didn’t know if she liked the sensation or not, but there was no denying its need. Just as she wasn’t sure she could stand any more, he released her nipple to trail his lips down her torso, her belly, until he reached the curls at the junction of her thighs. Instinctively, she went to close her legs. “Let him,” Cassidy ordered her. “Let him see your sweet pussy.” Raw need coursed through her at the word he used. Scharlie relaxed just enough for Garrett to push her legs firmly open, his mouth first pressing small kisses along the inside of her leg as he circled closer to where she ached. “Very good,” Cassidy murmured. Scharlie grudgingly opened her eyes to look at him. She watched him move, panther-like, across the blankets toward her and Garrett. She saw his nostrils flare on the scent of her arousal, and his eyes glittered with his own sexual stimulation. “You want him to continue, Scharlie? Do you want Garrett to be your lover?” At that moment, Garrett’s mouth settled on her slit. Scharlie gasped at the unexpected feeling as his tongue took a swipe over her. “Do you want to be ours, Scharlie?” Cassidy whispered in her ear, seducing all her doubts away. She moaned her acquiescence. Cassidy took her by the shoulders and leaned her back while Garrett stood up to remove his clothes. As he did that, Cassidy started stimulating her all over again. He kissed the back of her neck and

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rubbed his soft cheek bristles against the sensitive skin, causing her to gasp. She had never realized how arousing her back could be. His hands slid around her, cupping her breasts, filling his palms with the heaviness of their weight. He massaged the plump mounds, teasing the nipples all over again. She thrust her chest out more, her head falling back onto his chest. She lay cradled between his legs. Garrett leaned over her, kissing his way down her body. He nipped and licked all the way back down to where her pussy lips waited for attention. “Do it,” Cassidy ordered. “Make her cunt weep.” With one hand spreading her, Garrett’s mouth descended. He licked his way up and down, over and over, until she thought she would go out of her mind. Her juices flowed, and he lapped them up like a cat licking cream. And then he found the spot that cried for attention, the little bundle of nerves that she had discovered with her hand, and sucked that into the hot vortex of his mouth. She jumped, cried out, and came immediately. The white-hot fire that roared through her caused her to beg for more as her hands reached out for Garrett to urge him to settle over and consume her. She wanted him, wanted him inside her to put out the inferno that raged. She half felt Cassidy withdrawing as Garrett obeyed her unspoken need. She felt herself laid back down as Garrett’s big body moved over her, reminding her of a panther stalking his prey. His lips captured hers, and she realized the musky taste on his tongue was her, her particular flavor of ecstasy. Garrett pushed her thighs wide and settled between them. Scharlie felt his cock searching, probing, hard steel encased in hot silk. And then, he pushed. Pain overshadowed everything for a moment, and Garrett held still as she adjusted to the new sensation of being filled and stretched. Tears leaked from her eyes, and he leaned down to lick them away. “Take a deep breath,” he murmured. “It’ll fade.” “It hurts,” she gasped.

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“Come on, deep breath. Relax your muscles. That’s it. Just breathe.” Scharlie did as he said, little by little letting her body relax and accept the huge shaft that stretched her. The pain eased somewhat, but she was still a little uncomfortable. “Cass,” Garrett said, “she needs a little help.” Cassidy crawled over and slid his hand down until it found her clit. His finger started rubbing it gently, and Garrett joined in with his hips, flexing in tune with Cassidy’s massage. “Oh,” she moaned. All discomfort fled at the startling sensation taking place in her most intimate place. Her eyes flew open, and she saw two men staring at her in wonder and in lust. She also saw that while Cassidy rubbed her clit, he was also rubbing his cock up and down with his free hand. Garrett rose above her, his black hair hanging forward to obscure his eyes. From her vantage point, he looked like a fallen angel. Back and forth, he sawed at her, rocking his massive cock in and out, hitting all the sweet spots inside. The muscles in his arms bulged, and she reached up to hold on to their pillars of strength. Cassidy’s fingers traveled past Garrett’s balls slapping her ass to find her tight hole. His finger slid in, and she bucked at the unexpected feeling of having both holes filled. She wasn’t sure if she liked it, but it definitely added something deeper to Garrett’s thrusts. He plunged in and out, moving in time with Garrett, using her juices to lubricate and soothe the friction of his onslaught. Soon, however, she forgot to think about anything and just let herself feel. She found Garrett’s rhythm and started to move with him. With each slam of his hips, Scharlie moaned and fell apart a little more. Too many sensations overcame her, and she came with a little scream, falling off the pinnacle into floating stars. “I’m losing it,” Garrett warned in a low, intense voice. “Scharlie!” Her vaginal walls milked him as she felt him expand, and then the hot rush of his climax burned through her. He groaned as his hips

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pumped several times until he collapsed on top of her. She felt Cassidy’s fingers leave her just as she heard him also groan. Exhausted, she instantly fell into a deep sleep.

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Chapter Six Sounds penetrated through the darkness, teasing her awake. Scharlie opened her eyes into the pitch blackness of the cellar. Only a sliver of light now streamed over the steps. Scharlie scrambled to her feet, mindless of stepping on the two sleeping men who cocooned her on both sides. Cassidy and Garrett awoke with grunts. “Hello!” she called out loudly. Feet overhead shuffled about, and then she heard the voice of Sheriff Tanner through the cellar door. “Scharlie! Is that you?” “Yes!” “It’s good to hear your voice, girl! We’re working on getting you out. Your barn is in your kitchen, but the rest of the house is still standing!” “Oh God!” “Hold on, Scharlie! We’re working fast!” Cassidy threw her clothes into her arms. “Unless you want to greet them naked, I suggest you get dressed.” “Oh! Right!” Fire burned on her cheeks as she hurried to put on her clothes. She retreated into a shadowy corner and fumbled her way into them. For some reason, they didn’t seem to fit as they did before. In fact, nothing felt right, as if her experience the night before had altered her in some way and she didn’t know how to move about in her new skin. The cellar door opened, flooding the room with bright light. Scharlie held up a hand to shield her eyes, blinking at the intensity as the darkness scattered.

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“Scharlie?” asked Sheriff Tanner. She stepped forward, letting the warmth of the sunlight bathe over her. She smiled and started climbing the stairs. Hands reached out to help, and she realized that there were several other people waiting for her, helping to rescue her. Tom Kern helped steady her over the debris of what used to be her kitchen. Scharlie’s mouth fell open as she finally saw the devastation of her home. The kitchen was nothing but a pile of splintered timber and broken glass. The heavy cast-iron stove lay about four feet from where it had originally been, mostly intact except for the vent covers and the flue. The rest of the house had been spared, but the wind and rain had damaged much of the interior, and Scharlie knew it was going to take a while for her to get her house straightened out. Lost to the saddened sight around her, she almost forgot about Cassidy and Garrett until she heard their boots hit the cellar steps and Sheriff Tanner draw his gun. “It’s okay, Sheriff,” she assured. “They saved my life. I would have gone to try to protect the animals, but they got me safely inside the cellar before the twister hit.” She saw the sheriff release his gun and holster it back, but the tenseness in his shoulders never quite relaxed. “And you two are…?” The sheriff hedged. “I’m Cassidy Brooks, and this is Garrett Webb.” “Friends of Harlow,” Scharlie added. “They came to tell me that—” Her voice failed. She didn’t want to say it out loud because if she did, then it would be real. It would be beyond her ability to pretend that it had never happened, that Harlow would be coming home, someday. “Scharlie?” Sheriff Tanner prodded. She cleared her throat. “That he, ah, was killed.” Silence descended among the three rescuers. Tom and the sheriff took off their hats.

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“Mighty sorry, Scharlie,” Sheriff Tanner expressed. His eyes softened. “How?” Tom asked. “He was shot,” Cassidy said, but offered nothing more. Thankfully, Tom didn’t press for more information. Scharlie walked in a daze through the debris of her kitchen. The bright sunshine almost made a mockery of her home. She left all the men behind as she walked through the house, her eyes falling on broken objects and destroyed furniture. She found Harlow’s tin soldier in a corner and picked it up to study it. The little toy was unharmed, and she put it in her pocket to safeguard it. She exited out the front door, leaving it open, and saw that her barn was gone, along with her animals. In fact, the only one she saw was a chicken that had been staked on a broken piece of wood that protruded from the base of where the barn had been. Tears welled up in her eyes. She wiped impatiently at her cheeks. She had a little bit of savings, enough to replace the animals. Her stove looked well enough to save, and if she downsized her kitchen, then she had just enough, probably, to cover the costs of repairs. Thank God the majority of the house had been spared. Hands came to rest on her shoulders. Cassidy had come up behind her to also survey the damage. “Garrett and I will help you rebuild,” he told her solemnly. She stiffened and pulled away. “I don’t need your pity.” He spun her around. “It’s not pity.” “A promise to my murdered brother?” she snapped. “Why are you angry?” “Look around, Cassidy!” she ordered scathingly, spreading her hands. “In the past seventy-two hours, my life has turned upside down! It’s a little hard for me to take in and remain even tempered!”

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She stared at him, breathing heavily, her emotions bubbling right under the surface. She didn’t know if she should cry or yell or stamp her foot. She felt potent rage without a way to vent. An uneasy silence descended over the group as they just watched her. Cassidy and Garrett, the sheriff, and Tom awkwardly shifted feet, not knowing how to deal with a temperamental female. Finally, she snapped. Turning her back on them, she stomped over to a pile of splintered wood and picked up boards, throwing them haphazardly to nothing in particular, just using it as a way to drain her frustration. She watched with tiny amounts of satisfaction as each piece of wood landed on the ground in haphazard ways. Just like her home, broken, jagged, and splintered in ways that would never go back together in quite the same way. And she was frustrated. Bitter, vexed, and wrathful, for a moment, Scharlie allowed herself to wallow in self-pity. Life had dealt her a bad hand. Her father had died young, a heart attack while working the land. Her mother had turned to the first man who comforted her, a mean soul who had watched young Scharlie in a predatory way. He had cut her face when she had defended herself from his unwanted advances. Harlow had gone after him, beaten him, accidentally killing their stepfather and forcing him to leave Missouri. And now, everything was gone. What more could be taken from her? What more must she endure? The last question echoed through her mind as her anger drained. Scharlie collapsed, tears flowing freely down her face. Strong hands picked her up and cradled her against a hard chest. Scharlie curled into Garrett’s warm frame, his heartbeat steady and comforting through her sadness. He walked away from the others, leaving behind the scene of her devastation.

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Chapter Seven Garrett walked with her in his arms until he came to a small stream. Though it wasn’t a significant amount of water, it did provide a wonderful bank to sit upon and relax in seclusion around the tall oak trees. He sat and folded her into his lap. Little by little, the bubbling brook soothed her nerves, and her shoulders relaxed as her tension eased. Garrett’s hand rubbed the back of her neck. “Feeling better?” “Yes. This is actually my favorite place to come when I’m feeling troubled.” “Like now?” “Precisely.” “Cass is right, Scharlie. We’re not here out of pity.” “Then why are you here?” He hesitated for a moment then said, “For you.” She leaned back to look him in the eyes. “Why am I having a hard time believing you?” He sighed. “To you, Cass and I are nothing more than strangers. But to us, it seems like we’ve always known you. Harlow always talked about you.” “So you said.” She ran a weary hand over her face. “I wish I could talk to him one last time.” “The Chinese believe that the soul never dies,” he said, his voice low and soothing. “And that burning paper provides material goods for the person who died. If you like, we can have a celebration to honor Harlow and send him everything he needs in his afterlife.”

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With tears clogging her throat, she nodded and tried to give him a thankful smile, but it only came out wobbly and one-sided. Garrett, however, seemed to understand her appreciation. He patted her knee comfortingly. They sat for a while like that, just listening to the brook and the wind swishing through the trees. The sky was a clear blue with fluffy white clouds scattered about. The day was peaceful after the horrendous storm of the day before. Memories danced in and out of her thoughts, images of the night before, and a blush stole over her cheeks. “Can I ask you a question about Cassidy?” she asked. He nodded. “Does he have a problem?” “Problem?” “You know, last night. He didn’t…well, he just didn’t.” “Engage in the sex? Cass likes to be in control.” She thought about that for a moment. “But he likes women, right?” Garrett laughed. “Yes,” he said through his chuckles. “Most definitely. But he likes watching more than being a direct participant when there are three of us.” “Does he watch often?” “Sometimes. Sometimes he likes to go off by himself with a woman.” “Is it always like that? You know, what happened between us. I felt…” Her voice died off because she simply couldn’t describe the feeling that had overwhelmed her. She had felt like the world had shifted on its axis and she had fallen off it. “I know,” Garrett said softly. “And no, finding someone who makes you feel like that is almost impossible. Don’t get me wrong, sex for the sake of sex is great. It feels wonderful. But when a connection is made, it makes everything else fade in comparison. Any other woman, or man, drains away. Forgotten.”

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She bit her lower lip with her white teeth. “But two of you and one of me doesn’t really bode well for a connection, does it?” “Honey, we’ve had a connection since before we met.” Scharlie cocked her head and raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Whether or not you think we were just fooling around, well, that simply wasn’t so.” His hand moved into her hair and pulled her head back until her throat was open and exposed. He pressed his lips to the tender skin. “I would dream of you, Scharlie. Surrounded by red lotus and peony flowers, draped in red-and-gold silk. We would love, laugh, become one.” He kissed his way to the shell of her ear. “I want you, more now since I’ve tasted you.” “Here?” she asked, almost breathless. “In the daylight?” “Exposed.” He moved her body until her legs straddled his hips. “I want to bury into you while the heavens watch, while the Jade Emperor gives his blessing. Now, oh, right now, Scharlie.” He brought her head up and crashed his lips against hers. He kissed her deeply, slipping his tongue into her mouth while he traced the contours of her face with his fingers. Scharlie felt something deep inside explode with excitement. He wrapped her legs around his waist tightly as she meshed her fingers in his hair. She met his kiss with equal ferocity, a woman suddenly born with a need she never realized existed before. The ache inside intensified, grew, spreading throughout her whole body and making her hips gyrate against his. His fingers pulled at her shirt, all finesse gone. She helped him as much as possible without breaking apart their lips, anxious to feel his hands on her breasts. As he found her nipples, tweaking them, she smuggled her hands inside his shirt, popping a button free. His chest was smooth to the touch, muscular, and she delighted in the wicked sensation of touching each other as a cool breeze wafted over them. The sounds of nature were all around. The bubble of the brook, the call of birds, even the rough-hewn texture of the tree bark behind them, all of it intensified the rawness of their passion. When touching and kissing weren’t enough, they quickly moved clothing around until

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Garrett’s cock stood tall and free, dripping with need. Scharlie had read things in the book she could do with her mouth, but right now she wanted to feel him inside her, to feel that huge hardness sliding in, filling her, making her complete. Moving her skirt aside, Garrett slid one finger over her clit, teasing it, before sailing into her pussy. He started a rhythm moving in and out, only shallow depths that mocked the fierceness of his cock. She wanted more, much more. “Please,” she whispered. “What, Scharlie? Tell me what you want,” he coaxed. “I want you inside,” she said. “Say it, Scharlie. Say you want my cock in your pussy. You want me to take you until you come.” She opened her eyes. Her hips rocked against his fingers, urging him to go faster or deeper or do something more. But he resisted, his eyes remaining impassive to her plea. “Fuck me,” she finally said, the words slipping easily from her mouth. More easily than she thought they would. “Please, fuck me hard. I need you.” That was all he needed. Garrett withdrew his finger and angled her hips over his steel cock. There was a moment of remembered roughness as the bulbous head slid in past the tight grasp of her pussy lips and into the snug channel. She could feel her wall weep with joy at Garrett’s hardness rocking home again, and she immediately matched his rhythm, wanting and needing more. “Oh,” she moaned. He wrapped his arms around her, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Sweat covered his skin, met her tongue, and she lapped at the salty sweetness. Garrett groaned at the touch of her small tongue. His large hands found their way under her skirt, which draped them, and settled upon her ass. He pulled her in closer, meeting each of his thrusts until she heard a sucking, slurping sound. Scharlie could feel the wetness just oozing from their joined bodies,

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and it spiraled her even higher. Garrett angled his hips a little, shifted them a little lower, and suddenly Scharlie felt every glorious, delicious inch of him as he banged away. But she was right there with him, giving as good as she got. They were now both covered in sweat, mindless of everything around. “Scharlie,” Garrett gasped. “You’re so tight. So wet. I’m not going to last much longer.” “Do it,” she whispered back. “I’m with you. Garrett!” And just like that, he erupted with a roar. She felt his cock jerking inside as he found his release, and the knowledge that she had reduced him to losing control made her fall off the pinnacle. She convulsed, her juices blending with his, until they both shuddered in exquisite bliss.

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Chapter Eight The sun was going down, casting a molten golden glaze over the land. Long shadows extended in front of Scharlie and Garrett as they walked back. Only Cassidy remained at the house, laboriously cleaning up debris in and around the house. Scharlie hung back as Garrett went to help, and she watched the two men work side by side, admiring their sleek physiques. They contrasted beautifully, light and dark, and it made her tingle just watching them. Her eyes seemed drawn to Cassidy because out of the both of them, he was the most mysterious. Garrett was like the refreshing drink of water in the desert. Not only did he quench her thirst, but he was rapidly becoming essential to her well-being, her survival. But Cassidy was an itch she couldn’t scratch. He got under her skin, and she couldn’t quite determine where to place him or what to do with him. Her stomach growled, reminding her that they really hadn’t eaten all that much in the past few days. She went about setting up an open fire pit, clearing the ground, and ringing it with stone. She gathered kindling and wood and soon had a nice blaze going. She dug out of her ruined kitchen potatoes, onions, and turnips, a skillet, and a round pot that wasn’t exactly round anymore. She eyed the dented side with pursed lips and sighed. From down in the cellar, she brought up flour and a few herbs, along with a jar of pickled corn and beets. There wasn’t any meat, so they’d have to make do with vegetables. As the men worked by the glow of the firelight, Scharlie chopped and diced and cooked up a hearty vegetable stew. And as difficult as

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the day had been, there was something calming about fixing a meal. It was a mindless task that allowed her thoughts to be kept at bay for a brief time. “Scharlie,” Garrett said from behind her. She turned her head and saw him holding out his hand to her. He was dressed all in white, in loose clothing that rippled in the slight breeze. Even Garrett’s hair was tied back with a white ribbon. “Come here,” he ordered, smiling. She rose, moved the stew off the fire, and took his hand. He led her around the house to where a raised platform held a contained fire. Cassidy waited for them, also dressed in white, his garments almost identical to Garrett’s. He was staring into the flames, the light casting brooding shadows on his face, but when they approached, he looked up. He had his arms folded across his chest, and the somber look didn’t leave his face. “What’s going on?” she asked. “This is Harlow’s pyre,” Garrett explained. Scharlie recoiled a bit at the words, but Garrett held firm to her hand, lending some of his strength. “The Chinese do not believe in cremation, but we do believe in sending prayers and wishes along with the loved one lost,” he continued in a soft voice. “Cass and I have dressed in white to honor Harlow, designating our status to him as a friend and brother.” She watched as he pulled out paper from his pocket to throw into the fire. Immediately, little flames rose to consume the small bits of parchment, releasing ash that floated upward into the night. “This is prayer money, so Harlow has enough in the afterlife,” Cassidy told her has he threw in a couple of sheets to burn. Her chin quivered, but she refused to cry. This was a time to say good-bye to Harlow, to celebrate who he was and the small time she was allowed to be a part of his life. She took a step next to Cassidy and held out her hand. He looked down at her, gave her a wan smile, and gave her some paper.

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They all stood silently around the pyre, throwing in bits of prayer money and remembering. **** After their small ceremony, Garrett banked the remaining embers and then followed Cassidy and Scharlie back to where the food waited for them. They ate in silence, still wearing their white shrouds, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable silence. Instead, it seemed the past hour had brought them all closer somehow, that they now shared something deep and profound. Garrett volunteered to wash the dishes over by the water pump, leaving Cassidy and Scharlie alone by the fire. He rustled around and then held out a tin cup. “What’s that?” she asked. “Medicinal relaxing juice.” She took that cup and looked inside, seeing only a clear liquid. She brought it to her nose and smelled the pungent odor of alcohol. “My, that’s potent,” she said with a sniff. He smiled. “Like I said, medicinal and relaxing.” Scharlie sat the cup next to her carefully then wrapped her arms around her knees. She rested her chin on top and stared at him intently, just looking him over from head to toe. She knew she was getting to him when he shifted a bit and cleared his throat. “What’s wrong?” “Where are you from?” He raised an eyebrow. “I was born in Baltimore, but lately I’ve been all over, traveling with Garrett. And Harlow, too, until…” “Until Breaux Cox.” “Yes.” “And when will you two be leaving?”

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He was silent for a while, staring into the fire. “Not sure,” he finally answered, looking at her. “Why? You anxious to see the last of us?” The orange glow of the burning wood cast shadows over his face, making it impossible to read it. “No,” she answered. It could have been her imagination, but she thought she saw his shoulders relax. “Just, where do we go now? I mean, from what happened in the cellar?” “What would you like to happen, Scharlie?” She shook her head in wry amusement. “You’re very evasive, you know that? With Garrett, I get straight answers, but with you, I feel like I’m pulling teeth.” “Feelings of battle, fighting. Do you often feel like that?” She gave a snort and rose to her feet. “Fine, Cassidy, I get it. No questions. Have a nice night.” She headed away from the fire and homestead, moving toward the tree line. She had only gone about a hundred feet when she heard footsteps behind her. “I was fifteen when I left Baltimore,” he said in a strained, halting voice. Scharlie halted. “My mother had just died from the wasting disease, and my father left her grave site to marry his mistress. I hadn’t known about her till he dragged me to the church, presenting a stepmother on the very day they lowered my mother into the ground.” Scharlie turned. Cassidy stood there with his hands clasped on his head, his eyes looking at a spot somewhere far away. “They had never been happy. I think my conception was the last time they actually talked to each other,” he continued, his voice now softer as the memories played out. “Two miserable people forced to be together because of society and rules, as an arranged marriage. The rigidity of living such a life makes my skin crawl.” He shivered, as if he couldn’t even stand the thought.

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She wavered on what to do: go to him, comfort him, or simply let him be. “Garrett has the gift of words,” he told her, “whereas I can never find the right thing to say. So I end up not saying anything at all. At least, not about things that matter.” “What do you want from me, Cassidy?” “I’m not an easy man, Scharlie. I detest conformity, and to love me, you have to give me what I need. What I crave.” “I don’t know what that means,” she replied honestly. His arms fell to his sides, and he took a step toward her. “Can you accept us both, Scharlie? Can you love us both?” And then he pulled her into his body, one hand curling around her upper arm while the other hand buried itself in her hair. His kiss was hard, seeking her response and demanding her answer. And she gave it. Garrett was the giver while Cassidy was the taker, but she willingly caved to both natures. It was what she wanted, what she longed to do. Garrett spoke to her heart while Cassidy mirrored her own insecurities. He took, and she gave, and it satisfied both. When he lifted his head, they both were breathing hard. “When I left home, I did some bad things,” he muttered in a guttural tone. “I learned different ways to please and appease my soul.” She didn’t understand what he was saying, and her confusion must have registered on her face because he shook his head and let go of her. He took a step back. “Part of me hopes you never do understand,” he said. “But a bigger part of me hopes one day you will.” And then he turned and walked away from her, leaving her very unsettled.

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Chapter Nine The next few days were busy for them as the men framed the new barn and kitchen and then proceeded to start rebuilding. Various neighbors and people from the town stopped by to deliver food, lend a helping hand, or just visit. If anyone thought it odd that two strange men had shown up to help out the local teacher, no one mentioned it. In fact, everyone went out of their way to make Garrett and Cassidy feel welcome. At night, though, when they sat around the campfire, the two men changed tactics on her. Instead of sex, they opted to talk, to learn more about each other, and Scharlie realized that this was a big concession on Cassidy’s end. She knew he wasn’t a talkative person, at least, not about himself. But she recognized the effort it took for him to try to open up, even if he just reiterated the parts he had already said. She knew all about secrets, about shame, and admired the fact he trusted her enough to try. Garrett, however, was the glue that brought them both out of their shells. He filled in the silent gaps with amusing stories, keeping the flow of talk continuing without it feeling artificial. He had the gift of putting people at ease. By the third day, the kitchen walls and roof were up, allowing them to move back inside. The kitchen was larger, allowing the three of them to move around each other effortlessly. The rest of the afternoon was spent putting the stove back in place and positioning the pipe. It was a heavy piece of steel, so Scharlie got the added bonus of watching their muscles bunch and contract. It gave her tingles in all the right places.

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That night, however, everything changed. Tom’s wife, Angie, had come by with a whole chicken, freshly plucked. Scharlie cut it up, coating the meat with herbs before frying it up. She added potatoes and carrots from her garden, and the delicious smell permeated the air, making her stomach rumble. The answering rumbles from Cassidy and Garrett made her smile, and they all sat down at her new table to enjoy the first home-cooked meal in her newly rebuilt kitchen. Scharlie spent the whole meal enjoying the feeling of having them with her, of having someone to cook for and to care for. She had been alone for so long that she had forgotten how nice company felt. But it was more than that. What coursed through her veins wasn’t just appreciation or gratitude, but instead contentment. It was a feeling of finally coming home. After the dishes had been washed and set to dry, the night was late. Cassidy had built up the fire so it blazed with warmth, and Garrett took her hand and led her over to a blanket that had been spread on the floor. Cassidy sat in the rocking chair, legs spread, arms resting beside him. His eyes glittered in the firelight. Tension rose high in Scharlie, and her heart started to pound in excitement. “Help her to kneel, Garrett,” Cassidy ordered. Without a word, Garrett took Scharlie’s hands in his and helped her kneel in front of him. “Scharlie, unbuckle Garrett’s belt and help him take his pants off.” Her hands shook only slightly as she obeyed. This was Cassidy. This is what turned him on. She may not quite understand, but she accepted. It only took her a moment to pull his pants down. She was slightly shocked to take note that Garrett didn’t wear long johns under his clothes, so she was eye level with his rigid cock. “Take him into your mouth,” Cassidy ordered.

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Scharlie’s heart raced, and she swallowed thickly, trying to come to terms with what Cassidy asked of her and the reference she remembered in the book. As she hesitated, she saw a drop of moisture appear at the tip of Garrett’s penis, and before she could think about anything else, she licked it. The taste was slightly bitter, as if too much salt had been added. But it wasn’t awful. In fact, it lit a fire in her belly that was unlike anything she had felt before. Garrett put his hand on her head and guided her forward. This time, she didn’t hesitate. She reached for his shaft, finding the skin easily slid back to reveal the thick and heavy head. For a moment, she envisioned this huge cock seesawing into her, and the mental picture caused a sudden rushing of juice between her legs. Scharlie squirmed a bit, trying to appease the hunger that gripped her, to no avail. “Take him into your mouth, Scharlie,” Cassidy ordered again. “Suck him down.” With his demanding and with Garrett’s urging, she closed her lips around him. Immediately, she tasted more of Garrett’s bitter essence, but it was a flavor she quickly adapted to. She ran her tongue around the head, up the slit, milking him for more. “Holy shit,” Garrett muttered. His fingers tightened in her hair. It was the only placed he touched her. As she got used to the feeling of having his penis in her mouth, Scharlie went further, pushing the foreskin back more as she slid her mouth further down. The head hit the back of her throat, causing her to momentarily gag, but she discovered if she relaxed her throat and shifted him a bit, she could get more of him in her mouth. He was big and hard, and she loved the velvety smoothness of his skin. “Garrett, fuck her face,” Cassidy commanded. Before she had time to ponder what that meant, Garrett’s hips moved, pulling back and then going forward. It wasn’t enough to cause her too much distress, and she easily found the rhythm. She reached up to hold on to his hips as he rocked to and fro.

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Garrett moaned, and he increased his pace, flexing faster into the moist cave of her mouth. Scharlie sucked harder, instinctively knowing how much Garrett liked what she was doing to him. Her cheeks caved in with every thrust, and soon he took over the rhythm, pushing her head forward and back quickly. “Come in her mouth, Garrett,” Cassidy told him, his own voice sounding heavy. Scharlie felt Garrett tense beneath her hands. His cock swelled in her mouth, and then suddenly he let out a low growl as he erupted. His essence was thick and creamy, sweet and salty at the same time. Scharlie was unsure what to do with it, so she swallowed. When he was done, he let out a deep, contented sigh and collapsed. His hand left her head as he lay back, eyes closed and chest heaving. Scharlie watched him, wiping her lips free of saliva. Cassidy’s hand grabbed her upper arm and pulled her to stand. He spun her and immediately engulfed her in his arms, his mouth crashing down onto hers. He crushed her body to his, and she felt their limbs entwining together, legs to legs, hips to hips, and chest to chest. His tongue tangled with hers, dancing together as he lifted her up and backtracked to the bedroom, leaving Garrett sprawled on the blanket, watching them. Once in the bedroom, he stepped back. “Unbutton your shirt,” he instructed. She obeyed without hesitation, her fingers quickly freeing the material and taking it off her shoulders. It fluttered to the ground. Only a chemise separated her breasts from his eyes. “Now your skirt.” Again, Scharlie did his bidding. She stood before him, chest heaving in excitement as she waited for his next dictate. He perused her up and down before bending to take her puckered nipple, visible through her thin chemise, into his mouth. She gasped and arched her back as pleasure shot down her spine. “You like that?” he asked, lifting his head.

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Scharlie nodded, waiting. He reached for the ribbon that held her chemise up and pulled it loose. The material fluttered to pool around her feet, leaving her before him, naked and exposed. But before she could let that settle into embarrassment, Cassidy ducked his head again and took both of her breasts in his hands. He brought the right up first to suck on the nipple, pulling on the turgid point gently with his teeth while his fingers rolled the left one between his fingers. The sensations tore through her like a tornado, leaving her weak in the knees and yearning for more. “Please,” she whispered. He let her go and stepped back. His eyes had narrowed into slits, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. He may like to give commands, but Scharlie realized he was just as affected by the foreplay as she was. “Take off my clothes like you took Garrett’s off,” he told her. Scharlie moved in a daze, turned on by her shamelessness. She felt empowered by his response to her even though he was the one giving all the orders. Her hands trembled as she fumbled to remove his clothing. His cock jutted proudly in front of him, and she could see the tip of it weeping with juice. Cassidy took hold of her upper arms and walked her backward to the bed. When her knees connected, she fell and immediately scooted herself back as Cassidy stalked her on his hands and knees, like a lion getting ready to pounce his prey. And just as his body covered hers, he balanced on his knees and flipped her onto her stomach. Scharlie grunted as Cassidy hiked her hips upward, and she used her arms to keep from being smothered by her pillow. His hands gripped her hips tightly as he leaned over her back to whisper in her ear, “Do you want me to fuck you, Scharlie? You have to tell me.” Almost beyond words, she nodded. “Tell me!” “Yes!” she panted. “Take me. Fuck me. Please!”

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That was all the urging he needed. His thumb slid down to find her wet slit and used that as a guide to fill her with one thrust. Both gasped at the electric shock of being joined for the first time. He felt different than Garrett, thicker perhaps. Cassidy wrapped his free arm around her as he rocked in and out, not letting her escape for one moment. He possessed her, dominated her, but she loved every part of it. His thumb moved up her crack until it found her puckered hole, and, using some of the moisture from their joined bodies, slipped into her back door. At first it was uncomfortable, a harsh intrusion to the bliss she felt as he pumped into her. She squirmed, trying to get away, but Cassidy’s hold was much stronger. Wet slurping noises filled the room with each thrust. The smell of sex invaded her nostrils. She felt wild, a savage, primitive beast without thought beyond the pleasure of it. Cassidy was relentless, pounding into her until their bodies were slick with sweat. She wanted more and started moving her hips back to meet every move of thrusts. His thumb went deeper and mimicked his cock, in and out, in and out. She moaned. She thrashed. She panted out her need. “More,” she cried. “Harder! Yes! Yes! Cassidy!” The plateau fell from under her, and for a moment she soared. Rapture, pure euphoria, carried her away. It took her a few seconds to realize that Cassidy was still. When the haze cleared from her eyes, she saw that he watched her with a feral light in his eyes. He withdrew from her and turned her over. “What—” she started to say, but shut up as Cassidy stuck his index finger into her mouth. “Suck it,” he ordered. “Pretend it’s Garrett’s cock.” She did as she was told, tasting a musky tartness and realizing it must be her own essence. Behind her, Cassidy raised her hips and spread her legs apart, exposing her most intimate place.

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He leaned in and blew against it, startling her. And then his other hand collected her cream and rubbed against her back hole. She moaned, half-afraid and half-excited. And then he was over her, pushing in, going very slowly. It hurt, more than she thought it would, and burned. She shifted and tried to pull away, but he held her firmly and pushed his finger even more into her mouth. She used it to bite, knowing she caused him just as much pain as he was causing her, but rather than stop, Cassidy simply moaned and pushed more. Then finally he was seated all the way inside her. She stopped biting and breathed, and for moment neither of them moved. The pain subsided from her ass, the burning turning into something different. And then he pulled back before pushing back in, and Scharlie realized that the burn had twisted into unbelievable pleasure. Again he withdrew only to plunge back, and this time Scharlie met his thrust. “That’s it, baby,” he grunted. “Your ass is so tight! Fuck me with it.” The dirty words only added to the intensity of the act. In and out Cassidy fucked her with deep strokes. He took away his finger to grip her hips, and she reached with her finger to touch her clit, massaging it in time with his thrusts. Suddenly he gave a strangulated cry. Scharlie felt warmth flood her inside, and another crest of passion swept over her. Cassidy was gasping, clutching her hips, giving a few last ardent thrusts. She felt their combined passion trickling down her thighs, and then he collapsed onto her, flattening her to the bed. She was exhausted, replete. Cassidy moved off her, to the side, his arm cradled around her. She felt his lips on her shoulder just as she tumbled into a dreamless sleep.

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Chapter Ten Two days later, Scharlie was in her small garden, weeding, enjoying the warm weather. Cassidy and Garrett had gone into town for supplies, and she had decided to tend to her very broken vegetable patch. The tornado had ripped most of it away, but enough had been spared to give her an adequate supply for this year’s canning. After a few hours in the sun, she decided to take a break and headed toward the house. She took off her hat and wiped her face with her apron. When she pushed open the front door, the smell of cigar hit her, and she paused, eyes wide. Unease traveled over her skin like wisps of smoke because even though nothing in the house was disturbed, Scharlie knew that someone had been there. The cigar smell was thick and cloying, almost choking her with the lingering fumes. Her first instinct was to run away, leave the house and find Cassidy and Garrett. But sanity returned. If someone had been in the house, then she had to make sure whoever it was had left, and she had no idea when the men would be back. Moving cautiously, Scharlie immediately went into the kitchen, where she grabbed a knife. The tornado had taken all her utensils with it, but Angie Kern had given her a new set when she and her husband, Tom, had come out last weekend. The knife’s blade gleamed brightly from being new. The only room closed off from the living and eating area was the bedroom, whose door was closed. She couldn’t remember if she had left it open or not. She stepped hesitantly, her heart hammering in her

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chest. Her mouth was dry, and she felt like she could vomit any moment. She paused for a moment, hand on the door, gathering her courage. Then, with a deep breath, she flung open the door, the knife raised high. Her gaze swung around the room, and her held breath left her lungs with a swoosh. She lowered the knife down to her side and let it slide onto the floor with a dull thump. The room was empty, but it hadn’t been left alone. Someone had gone through her belongings. Her clothes were strewn about the room, lying in heaps upon the floor. The mattress had been cut, exposing the horsehair-and-cotton padding, and pushed off the rope frame. And her book, her precious, dirty little secret, lay open. A knife stuck out of the center of it. The smell of cigar fumes made her sick to her stomach. Scharlie turned and ran from the house, holding a hand to her mouth. Once outside, she fell to her knees as dry heaves took over her body. Since she hadn’t had anything to eat, only clear bile burned her mouth as she spit it out. Shivers took hold of her, and she curled her arms around herself in an effort to ward off the chill that had settled in her bones. Someone had been in her home. Someone had violated her in the most horrible, basic way. Scharlie felt exposed, rubbed raw. The day had darkened, and her home didn’t feel safe anymore. Suddenly the world around her had an air of sinister threat that hadn’t existed only moments before. The sound of thundering horses trickled to her, making her stand. Her heartbeat matched the sound, and she ran to a nearby tree to hide as she watched to see who the riders were. She saw Cassidy and Garrett and flew from behind the tree. Now that a semblance of safety had shown up, terror completely engulfed her. The stress of the past few minutes left her light-headed as tears welled in her eyes and poured over her cheek.

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The horses came to a skid in the yard, and Cassidy and Garrett practically flew off them to grab her. “Scharlie! What happened?” Cassidy asked as he pulled her into his arms. “Someone…someone in the house,” she managed to say. Garrett pulled his gun out of his holster and immediately headed for the house. Cassidy remained, holding her, though he pulled out his gun as well and shielded her with his body. They watched as Garrett circled around the house once, looking in the windows. He crept up the steps, onto the porch, and pushed open the door. He went inside. “No one is in there now,” she whispered. “But someone had been while I was working in the garden.” Cassidy’s arm tightened around her. In a moment, Garrett came back out and walked toward them. A grim slash flattened his lips, and a frown marred his forehead. “Cigar smoke,” he told Cassidy. “Fuck!” Scharlie jumped from the venom in Cassidy’s voice. “We have to tell her.” “No,” Cassidy said. “We don’t have a choice. He’s here.” “What’s going on?” she cried. “Who’s here?” Cassidy and Garrett stared at one another. They seemed to be speaking to each other without words, and their silence stretched all her nerves to the breaking point. “What is it you’re not telling me?” she yelled, demanding, pulling out of Cassidy’s arm and glaring at them. “Scharlie—” Cassidy began. “No!” she interrupted. “My house has been violated! Someone came in and destroyed my things, so it’s time you told me everything.”

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He sighed and ran a hand through his curls. “Breaux Cox smokes cigars.” It took a moment for the words to sink in. “Oh my God. Is he the one who did this? Is he here, in Rock Ridge?” They didn’t confirm her question, but then again, she wondered who else it could be. “He killed Harlow. What does he want with me?” “Shit,” Garrett swore, running a hand through his hair. “They must have followed us.” She looked back and forth between them. “Who are ‘they’?” “Cox rides with two men named Mitch Cautling and Lee Barnes,” Cassidy answered. She blinked. Dread washed through her body. “What do you mean by that? And how do you know their names?” When he hesitated, Garrett answered. “Because we rode with them.” She shifted her attention. “Rode with them. You and Cassidy.” “And Harlow.” “No!” Garrett grabbed her shoulders, but she shook him off and backed away. “Outlaws,” she whispered, eyes wide. “You’re telling me all of you…you’re outlaws.” “Scharlie—” “Yes,” Cassidy answered. “Cass!” Garrett protested. Cassidy pinned him with a hard glare but answered her. “It’s complicated, Scharlie. Harlow, Garrett, and I met up with Breaux Cox and his men, and we all figured six was a good round number.” “You make it sound so ordinary,” she replied bitterly. Tears welled up in her eyes. “Why did you come here? Why did you let me know about Harlow? Why did you make me—”

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She stopped and abruptly turned away. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, reveal that she had fallen in love with them because they didn’t deserve that type of respect. “You’re bad men,” she said sadly. “Breaux Cox is a bad man,” Cassidy told her. She spun, angry. “You’ve killed people, haven’t you?” “I told you, it’s complicated.” “The truth, Cassidy! You’ve killed people. You’ve hurt people.” It seemed to take forever for him to answer. “Yes.” Scharlie felt her heart crumble. Tears coursed down her face. “And what was I? Did you like hurting me? Taking advantage of me?” She saw his jaw lock as he turned away. “No,” Garrett answered for him. “It’s not like that.” “Garrett!” Cassidy replied in a warning tone. “I won’t have her thinking we used her, Cass!” Garrett reached out and grabbed her hand and pulled her away from Cassidy. She stumbled after him, trying to keep her footing. Finally they came to the new barn, and he let go of her hand, only to spin around and pin her with his dark, turbulent eyes. “I can’t speak for Cassidy, even though I know he feels the same as I do. I can only tell you what’s in my heart.” He touched his chest. “But I’ve known you for so long. Harlow would tell us stories about you, share the letters you wrote to him when they caught up with us, and every time he said your name, I fell more and more in love with you.” “How can I believe you? Everything you’ve told me so far has—” “Been to protect you,” he finished. “Scharlie, I knew all about what happened between your stepfather and Harlow. How you were hurt, badly, and how he defended you. Is it so hard to believe now that Cassidy and I wouldn’t continue to protect you as much as possible?” She shook her head as her tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

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He cupped her face and wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “All you need to think about is this.” His mouth swooped down and landed on hers. His kiss was gentle, yet firm. As his lips moved over hers enticingly, she seduced with her own, inviting him in. Her body came to life as he mastered her with only a kiss. And even though she wanted to throw away her doubts, the truth burned its way into her brain, forcing her to remember that this man was no good. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers. “I love you, Scharlie Thorn.” She broke away and looked up at him with very sad eyes. “Get out of here.” She saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “What?” “I said, get out of here. I don’t want to see you again. You or Cassidy.” And then she turned and walked away from him, trying to ignore how her heart was breaking.

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Chapter Eleven Scharlie lay in bed that night, unable to sleep. She had patched up the mattress as best as she could and turned it over, since the bottom side hadn’t been damaged. Once she had heard Cassidy and Garrett leave, she had cleaned up the mess in her house, refusing to cry. She refused to let the image of some horrible, faceless man immobilize her. She may not know what Breaux Cox looked like, but did it matter? A monster was a monster. Now she stared at the ceiling, though she couldn’t see anything in the darkness. She hadn’t been able to watch Cassidy and Garrett ride away, to gather their belongings and disappear. Forever. Forever? Of course it had to be forever. They had desecrated her memories. They had taken Harlow away from her. She could never forgive them. She sighed and rolled to her side, tucking her hands under her chin and bringing her knees up. Every part of her hurt, as if she had fallen off a cliff and every bone in her body had broken. And now she couldn’t sleep. All she kept thinking about was Garrett’s eyes when he’d begged her to understand and the devastation she saw in them when she told him to leave. If truth be told, she really believed him in that moment. But still, the facts were clear. Cassidy had even admitted it. They were outlaws. Harlow was an outlaw. Damn them. ****

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She was awoken by the pounding on her front door. Scharlie opened her eyes and sat up, unfolding her cramped limbs that had gone stiff in the middle of the night. She still wore the same clothes as yesterday. Her hair was hanging limply on her shoulders. She rubbed a hand over her face, trying to wipe the last vestiges of sleep away. The pounding on her door came again, and Scharlie hurried from the bedroom. “Who is it?” she called through the wooden door. “Cassidy. And Garrett. Scharlie, can you open up?” She leaned her forehead against the door. “Why should I?” “Please, Scharlie, just listen to us.” “Why should I? For all I know, you’re still working with Cox!” He was silent for a moment. “Do you really think that after what we shared?” he asked in a quiet, subdued tone. “I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “You’ve completely shattered my world. I was so scared last night, so angry.” “Did you think we wouldn’t stay around to protect you?” Garrett asked through the door. “Scharlie, please, you’re in danger.” “Am I really? From my point of view, you’re just as dangerous as Breaux Cox.” “We’d never hurt you,” Cassidy said. Anger rose quickly and sharply inside her. She unlocked the door and yanked it open, staring at Cassidy with every ounce of fury she felt. “You’ve already hurt me, Cassidy!” she yelled, poking her finger into his chest. “You made me believe in you, made me believe that I could depend on you. That somehow I managed to find not one man but two who could look past this scar on my face and see the woman under it. See the person I really am and love her. But instead you’ve ruined the one thing I had left. My brother.” She went to slam the door in his face, but his left hand stopped it. With his right hand, he grabbed her upper arm and forced her back so

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that they could enter, Garrett right behind Cassidy. He closed the door, and suddenly she found herself alone in the house with them. “Get out,” she ordered, trying to sound firm. But the demand came out breathless and just a tad desperate. “No,” he said. “We gave you space last night to calm down, but Breaux Cox is here, Scharlie. And we’re out of time. We need to leave.” Scharlie stared into his eyes, trying to see the truth, before turning to look at Garrett. All she saw was resolution. “I’m not running away from my home,” she vowed. Cassidy swore under his breath and turned away, running his hands through his hair. Garrett stepped past him and took Scharlie by the arms. “Nothing is more important than your safety, Scharlie. No matter what you think of us, no matter what you think of this situation, you got to understand it’s not worth your life. We’re too vulnerable here. If you’re safe, then Cassidy and I can hunt Cox and his men down.” “You mean you can kill them.” He nodded. She sighed and pulled out of his hands. She turned her back and wrapped her arms around her as her mind quickly raced through the past twenty-four hours. Did she have a choice but to trust Cassidy and Garrett now? Breaux Cox had invaded her sanctuary, had broken the illusion of safety and privacy. And if she was really honest with herself, she would admit that Cassidy and Garrett had made her feel secure. She sighed and turned to face them. “I’m not agreeing yet, but what’s your plan?” She saw their shoulders relax. “Willow City,” Cassidy said without missing a beat. “Why Willow City?”

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“Because it’s the nearest city with a train depot, and it’s large enough to make sure Cox doesn’t do anything stupid, like go after you,” Garrett said. “Plus it has a payroll shipment coming in on tomorrow’s train,” Cassidy added. “Cox won’t want to miss it.” “He and his men will be cornered, and we’ll take care of him, once and for all.” Scharlie didn’t ask how they knew about the payroll shipment. She didn’t like the chill that coursed over her skin at the satisfied gleam shining in Cassidy’s eyes. She had a sudden feeling that no matter how much they might want to help her, she was just the catalyst bringing forth a plan they had devised from the start.

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Chapter Twelve They left later in the day, once Scharlie had packed and locked the house up. Willow City lay forty miles northwest of Rock Ridge, and the only way to get there was by horse. Scharlie didn’t complain, even though she was cramped behind Cassidy’s hard body, clinging to him tightly. It brought back memories of when he held her, possessed her, and a thrill shot through her to her core. She had missed her men in her bed last night, missed their warmth. Damn them for being outlaws. They stopped twice, and each time Scharlie switched riding behind Cassidy and Garrett, allowing the horses rest from carrying an extra person. The second time they came to a grove of tall oak trees, Scharlie excused herself, seeking privacy. She walked a ways away, finding an area to relieve herself and grabbing a moment to breathe without the scent of male invading her nostrils. She was honest enough to admit that she was turned on. Being behind the men, having the rhythmic motion of the horse rocking against her, had almost brought her to orgasm more than once. Glancing around to make sure she was alone, Scharlie dipped her hand under her skirts and found herself slick with cream. Her middle finger slipped inside, and she moaned at the delicious feel of her nub being teased. It didn’t take long, mainly because she was already aroused. A few flicks in and out, and Scharlie was soaring with relief. Her body quaked and arched against her hand as delicious pleasure hummed through her veins. After a few minutes, reality returned. Though her body was now satisfied, her emotions still seesawed. There was no denying she

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loved Cassidy and Garrett, but how could she ever accept their life? Or the fact that Harlow was a part of that life? As she made her way back, her mind worrying through the complexities her life had developed, she saw Cassidy and Garrett deep in conversation. Instinctively, she moved behind a tree to shield herself. She wanted to know what they were saying, what they talked about when she wasn’t around to hear them. She crept closer, using the trees to hide behind. “Is the bank all set?” Cassidy was asking. “Yes,” Garrett answered. “The bank manager’s name is Dalton, and he arrives to work at eight. I have the combination codes for the safe, so we’re all set.” “Perfect.” Bitter bile rose sharply from her stomach. Scharlie turned around and flattened herself against the tree, heart racing. Dear God, they were planning to rob the bank. That’s how they knew of the payroll arrival. Yes, they wanted to kill Breaux Cox for killing Harlow, but their other agenda was taking off with the money. How could she have been so stupid? **** Scharlie reined in her emotions well enough to finish the ride to Willow City. But all the while, her mind worked out a plan. Cassidy and Garrett were going to put her in a hotel, let her stay there while they “dealt” with Breaux Cox. But she planned to disrupt all their plans. They rode into Willow City just as the sun was setting and headed right for the only hotel on Main Street. Cassidy went in to make the reservation, and Scharlie took the opportunity to glance around the street. She didn’t see the sheriff’s office right away, but Willow City was a large town with many streets diverging off the main one. As she looked around in the twilight, her eyes clashed with a man who stood

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watching her from across the busy street. He was a tall man, lean and muscular, good looking in a cold way. His mouth was set in a hard line, and he stared at her with flat, dark eyes. As she stared at him, he brought a cigar up to his mouth. Scharlie’s eyes widened in fright. She went to reach for Garrett’s arm, but no sooner had she moved than a speeding carriage rumbled by. Scharlie blinked, and when she looked again, the man had disappeared. Had that been Breaux Cox? But if it had been, how had he known where to find them?

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Chapter Thirteen Scharlie paced in her room, dithering back and forth in deciding to do something about the knowledge she had about the bank. Though Cassidy and Garrett had hurt her heart, she just couldn’t seem to bring herself to think of them as bad guys. If she went to the sheriff and turned them in, they would be arrested and sent to jail. Images of them flashed through her brain, moments of her life alone compared to moments between them when she had been happy and fulfilled for the first time in her life. She closed her eyes, letting her mind examine each motion, each moment, she had spent with them. And as much as she hated to admit it, never once had she felt threatened or unsafe. Scharlie sighed, her shoulders slumping. She just couldn’t. She couldn’t turn them in, implicate them, and watch them be led away. If she was completely honest with herself, she couldn’t imagine a life without both men by her side. But to accept them, she had to be willing to forgive and forget. They were outlaws. Cassidy had admitted to murder. Could she, would she, look the other way? Even as the questions arose, Scharlie already knew her answers. She loved them. Loved Cassidy with his moodiness, art of evasion, and edgy movement, just as she loved Garrett’s sweet and passionate nature. Both men were as opposite as two people can be, and yet each complemented and completed what the other lacked. She loved them so much she had redefined her own level of morals. And with that resolution, Scharlie knew she could not turn them in. She opened her eyes, squared her shoulders, and made peace with her decision.

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She left the hotel by way of the staff entrance, much to the shock of the employees. They mumbled about how she shouldn’t be there, and Scharlie turned her scarred face away as she waved at them, disappearing immediately into the dark night. She made her way cautiously through the alley and around the side of the hotel, stopping to survey the still-busy Main Street. She noticed that the atmosphere was different than before, as if the fall of night had pulled a curtain on the civilized to expose the carousing of something primitive. Music poured from various saloons lining the street. Scantily clad women paraded up and down balconies, shouting at men below. She would be noticed if she left the darkness of the alley to find her way to the sheriff’s office, and currently there were three men she had to avoid at all costs. So she slid back into the shadows, back to the employee entrance of the hotel, and stepped up to a bellhop drinking something as he rested against the back of the building. “Excuse me,” she said, keeping her scarred side turned away. “Could you point out the direction of the sheriff’s office?” He gave her a suspicious look. “Off of Main, north, turn right onto Third. Can’t miss it.” “Obliged,” she muttered before hightailing it out of there. She kept to the shadows, moving quickly. Anytime someone came lurching by, usually a drunk, she ducked back into the darkness and waited for the person to shuffle by. There was no way to cross Main without moving into the light, but luckily the foot traffic had thinned out enough near Third to cross without too many whistles thrown her way. Scharlie couldn’t believe how wild Willow City was once the sun went down and wondered if all cities were like this. As she moved down Third, using the sidewalks but hugging the shadows, she spotted the sheriff’s office and wasted no time in rushing across the street toward it. A man stepped in front of her, blocking her way to her destination. Scharlie halted, eyeing the man who seemed focused on her. She

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moved to one side, and he did the same, mimicking her motions to halt her way. Scharlie’s heart thumped painfully in her chest because she had a deep suspicion that the man in front of her was Breaux Cox. And if he was Cox, how long had he been watching her? Trailing her? And what did he want with her? All thought of the safety of the sheriff’s office fled. Scharlie turned and started running down the middle of the street until some small measure of sanity returned and she realized that she had to find cover. She dashed between two buildings, which led to an alley that smelled of rotten food and stale beer. Scharlie ran to each building, checking the back doors until one opened. Without another thought, she ran inside and slammed the door behind her. She stood in a kitchen that was deserted, but the food piled around in various stages of being cooked hinted that it wouldn’t be empty for long. When she heard voices coming from the door, Scharlie turned and hurried upstairs. The stairway was dark enough for her to stumble as she quickly ran up the steps. The door opened to a hallway dimly lit with candle sconces placed next to every door. There were five doors on the right and four on the other, where the staircase ended. Red ribbons were hung on three of the doors. A noise at the bottom jolted Scharlie to hurry forward, easing open a door and stepping inside. The small entrance was partitioned from the rest of the small room with a curtain of lace. Scharlie heard a moan, the crack of a whip, and curiosity edged her to peek through the lace more closely. She used a finger to brush it aside far enough to see a man lying on the bed facedown. His hands and legs were secured to the bedposts with white scarves. The woman standing over him was dressed in a red satin corset with a red lace skirt over it. Her hair was pulled back and her face painted heavily in dark colors. She cracked the whip, and the leather tails scraped over the man’s buttocks, causing him to moan rapturously and writhe against his bindings.

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Scharlie remembered a chapter in her lost book, one that described this very scene in which the man obtained pleasure with pain. The woman administering it wouldn’t hurt him too severely, only enough to have her client climax. She went to back out of the room as quietly as she came in, but as she let loose the lace curtain, Scharlie’s gaze landed on a coiled whip on the table next to the door. Before she could think things through, Scharlie took it and then left the room. Luckily, the hallway was clear. She checked the stairway and hurried down it, taking a chance to exit the way she had come even though the cook might have returned. Scharlie peered around the door into the kitchen and discovered the cook had her back to the stairs. Quietly and quickly, Scharlie hurried through the kitchen to the back door. Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, willing her stuttering heart to slow down from the fear that had driven it. No one was in the alley, so she started hurrying back the way she had originally come from, trying to make it back to the hotel before Garrett or Cassidy knew she was missing. From out of nowhere, a hand came down and grabbed her arm. Scharlie screamed and backed away from the hand, banging into the next building. She snapped her head around and saw the glow of a cigar, smelt the acrid stench of ash. Fear rose sharply in her stomach, and she had to swallow bile back down. She wrenched her arm away and took a few steps back from Breaux Cox. “Pretty girl like you shouldn’t be wandering the streets of Willow City at night,” he said in a husky voice. It sent shivers down her back. Scharlie couldn’t think of a thing to say to him. Fear had robbed her temporarily of speech. She backed up a few more steps. “Going somewhere, Scharlie?” he asked. “I—It’s Miss Thorn to you,” she said. He laughed. “I’m glad to see a little backbone from you. Your brother had spunk too.”

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At the mention of Harlow, all her fear disappeared. Scharlie’s shoulders went back, and her eyes narrowed. “You have no right to mention Harlow.” “I don’t? Why? Because Webb and Brooks told you I killed him? I didn’t, you know. Brooks did. Shot him in the back.” Everything inside of her froze. He must have seen the doubt and confusion on her face because he laughed, a nasty sound devoid of all amusement. “So I am vilified, and, naïve you believed him.” “Shut up! Are you saying you were friends with Harlow? That you knew him?” “No, I’m not. I wasn’t friends with Harlow Thorn, but I respected him.” “Because you were both outlaws!” “No, because Harlow saved my life once. We didn’t like each other, but we were comrades.” The idea of Harlow being friends with this man made her sick to her stomach. She took a few more steps backward. “You left me that doe to find,” she accused. “I did.” “You searched my house.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because you’re Harlow’s sister. And I told him I’d take care of you.” His words would have sounded nice and safe if he hadn’t smiled at her, because she saw all his poison and hatred come out in that twisted slash of lips. She didn’t believe him, of course, didn’t trust him at all. But then she realized she couldn’t trust any of them, not even Garrett and Cassidy. Because what if, just what if, there was a measure of truth to his words?

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When he took a step toward her, Scharlie reacted without thinking. The hand holding the whip lashed out, the leather slicing through the air and landing on the soft flesh of his cheek with a crack. The skin split open, blood poured, and Breaux Cox howled in rage as he fell to his knees in pain. Scharlie wasted no time. She turned and ran, running full speed back to her hotel, where she ignored the grumblings of the front desk clerk as she dashed upstairs to her room. In moments, she had packed what she needed, hurried back down, and left the hotel. She rushed to the stable where, hours earlier, Cassidy and Garrett had dropped off the horses. Scharlie woke up the stable hand, handed him a bunch of coins, and waited impatiently as he saddled Cassidy’s horse. Thirty minutes later, she was riding from Willow City as if the hounds of hell were chasing after her.

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Chapter Fourteen Dawn was cresting over the horizon as she rode up to her house. Exhaustion clawed at her mind and body, but she stubbornly pushed it aside. She knew that Garrett and Cassidy would be following her soon, that they would ride harder than she had, would push themselves to find her. And now she knew that Breaux Cox was also coming for her. She had stood up to him, defied him, had hurt him. He wasn’t the type of man to let that slide. She had felt the evil radiating from him, and though she didn’t trust him at all, she didn’t know how much truth was behind his accusations. Sharlie dismounted and walked the horse into the barn. She took off the saddle, blanket, and bridle, rubbed him down until he cooled enough to be fed and watered. Her plan was to head out again as soon as she changed clothes, washed up, and ate something. The only person she could trust now was Sheriff Tanner. However, after washing away the traveling grime in the small washstand, her bed beckoned. Unable to resist its pull, she lay down, intending to only get an hour’s rest. But as soon as her head hit the pillow, oblivion pulled her under. **** The sound of horses woke her up. Scharlie sat up, slightly disoriented, until she shook her head to clear it of cobwebs. Then everything rushed back to her, the trip to Willow City, meeting Breaux Cox, and her hasty retreat back to Rock

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Ridge. She glanced out the window. The slant of the sun shining through the window made her gasp and jump off the bed. She dressed hurriedly then stepped out of the bedroom just as Cassidy and Garrett entered her house. “Get out!” she yelled, pointing to the door. “What the hell!” Cassidy yelled back. “You left in the middle of the night! We were worried sick!” “Why did you run, Scharlie?” Garrett asked, his voice calm. She looked back and forth between them, her heart twisting in pain. How could she still love them? “How could you break my heart?” she whispered. All was quiet for a moment. “What?” he asked, shaking his head. “Scharlie Thorn! Are you in there?” Sheriff Tanner’s voice yelled from outside. Scharlie’s eyes widened. “Get of here,” she said frantically. “Hide in the cellar. I’ll get the sheriff to leave, and then you can get away.” “What are you talking about?” Garrett asked. “I came to the realization in Willow City that I may not like who and what you two are, but it doesn’t stop me from loving you both.” The admission slipped easily out of her mouth. “I don’t want you two to be arrested. I don’t want you to be in prison. So go. Get out of here.” “Scharlie! If you won’t come out, I’ll have to come in!” the sheriff called. Cassidy’s eyes closed. Garrett swore under his breath. And Scharlie hurried to the door, opened it, and stepped out. “I’m here, Sheriff.” Sheriff Tanner was an older man with a heavy mustache, but he was still agile. He watched her with narrowed eyes. His shoulders were stiff with tension. “I’m fine, Sheriff,” she said, trying hard to make her smile believable. “Perfectly fine.”

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But the sheriff realized something was off, and he pulled out his gun. “Miss Thorn, step away from the house.” Just then the door opened behind her. Cassidy stepped out with his hands up in the air, Garrett right behind him. “Hold it right there!” Sheriff Tanner yelled at them. “Cassidy Brooks! Garrett Webb! I found you guys out. You’re wanted by the law in Illinois, and I mean to send you back, dead or alive.” “No!” Scharlie yelled out. “Sheriff, in my right vest pocket, I have documents you might find interesting.” The sheriff’s gun did not waver. “Let me get them out,” Cassidy insisted. “You’ll want to see them.” Very slowly, the sheriff gave a nod of permission. Equally as slow, Cassidy reached into his vest and pulled out a leather pouch. He held them out. “Open them and hold them up,” the sheriff ordered. Cassidy did as he was told. He took a step closer and squinted before grabbing the papers to read them more thoroughly. “Goddamn it!” The sheriff eased the hammer back down on his Colt and put it back in his holster. “Are you kidding me?” Confused, Scharlie looked from him to Cassidy. “Wait! What are those papers?” He looked down at her and ran a hand over her cheek with his free hand. “Those are my Pinkerton documents.” She blinked. “Your what?” The sheriff thrust the papers into Cassidy’s chest. “He’s a goddamn Pinkerton agent.” Cassidy grabbed the papers. “Pinkerton’s agency was hired by the State of Missouri to bring down Breaux Cox and his men, who have managed to hit about four hundred banks throughout the state.” “Four hundred!” Scharlie gasped.

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“Garrett Webb, Harlow Thorn, and I were sent in to infiltrate Cox’s gang, gather irrefutable proof of their activities, and then bring them in to face justice.” The sheriff swore under his breath and turned his back on Cassidy. “Wait,” Scharlie said, “Harlow was an agent too? He wasn’t an outlaw?” Garrett’s hands came down on her shoulder. “None of us are outlaws, Scharlie. But we had to make everyone believe we were. Hence the fake warrants from Illinois.” She pulled away from him and spun, angry. “You made me think he turned against the law! That he hurt people! I thought he was a wanted man!” “We had to maintain our cover,” Cassidy replied. “Cox shot Harlow in the back, but we didn’t see it happen,” Garrett explained. “Proof, remember? In the three months we rode with him and his men, he never trusted us enough to bring us along when they robbed a bank. They would disappear, we would catch up, but the deed had already happened. But we knew Cox was coming for you, so we arrived here first. Mainly to protect you, Scharlie, but also because we love you!” “Why does he want me so badly?” “Because of Harlow.” Garrett sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Cox found Harlow’s Pinkerton papers. He found your letters. For him, you’re a means of revenge, Scharlie.” At that statement, the sheriff turned and marched up to the two men. He placed a hand on Scharlie’s shoulder. “How do we protect her?” “I’m not leaving again,” she said again. “This is my home. Besides, I ran into Breaux Cox in Willow City.” “What?” Cassidy yelled. Garrett ran his hands up and down her arms. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you?” She shook her head. “He told me Cassidy killed Harlow.”

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“Is that why you ran?” She nodded. “I knew he was lying. I could feel his evilness surrounding me. But I couldn’t think. I didn’t know what to believe anymore.” “It’s okay,” Garrett said softly, pulling her into his arms. She smelled the heated scent of his skin and relaxed, letting the tension drain from her body. She was almost light-headed from the relief of everything turning out right. While she was cocooned in Garrett’s arms, she heard Cassidy talking with Sheriff Tanner. “We have men in Willow City,” he was saying. “We had set up a false payroll delivery in hopes of luring Breaux Cox out into the open, but we only caught Cautling and Barnes. Cox never showed.” So that’s what they were talking about, she thought. “You think he’s coming back here?” the sheriff asked. Scharlie broke away from Garrett’s arms. “He will,” she assured them. “He’ll come after me.” “What makes you sure?” Garrett asked. “Because I hurt him. A man like that, he’ll come after me.” Cassidy grabbed her arm and marched her away from the other two men. He took her far enough away so they couldn’t be heard, but he still pitched his voice low. “Get out of Rock Ridge for a while,” he urged. “Do you really think that’s going to work?” “At this point, I’m more focused on making sure you stay safe rather than trying to find evidence against Cox.” “But that’s not who you are, is it?” He cocked his head, confused. “What do you mean?” “Cassidy, if you kill him, then you’d lose everything, ’cause like you said, no evidence. You’d be guilty of murder.” He shook his head. “Pinkerton agents are contracted through the federal government. There’s enough against Cox, so I wouldn’t go to jail.”

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“But you wouldn’t be allowed into the field again, right? You wouldn’t be an agent anymore, would you?” His silence answered her questions. “So,” she continued, “we come up with a plan to catch him.”

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Chapter Fifteen Evening was falling. Sheriff Tanner lingered for another half an hour as each of them tried to come up with a way that made sense to finish Breaux Cox. Scharlie would just as soon shoot him in the back, as he did Harlow, and be done with it, but the men of the law thought differently. Scharlie couldn’t understand that, because snakes always managed to crawl from under rocks to return. In her opinion, chaining Cox up and letting him live wasn’t punishment, it was mercy, and she held none of that in her heart. After he left, without a workable plan on catching Cox, she went back inside the house. Garrett and Cassidy followed her. She was aware of them behind her, men who had taken her life and turned it upside down. They had taught her about love, fulfillment, and rapture. But where did they go from here? She turned to face them, even went so far as to open her mouth to talk, but before any sound come out, Cassidy marched up to her, placed one hand in her hand and one hand on her ass, and pulled her into his body. His mouth came down on hers fiercely, his tongue plunging to meet her hers. Desire rose sharply inside her, the need to feel him inside her, a hunger she couldn’t quell. She backpedaled her way to the bedroom, keeping their lips locked, pulling him with her. She vaguely heard the door close behind them before hands started disrobing her. She broke the kiss, coming up for air, and saw Garrett’s hands removing her clothes. He leaned forward and feasted on her neck as

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Cassidy took over delighting her skin from the front, a duel of twin pleasure. Cassidy’s hands landed on her hips, forcing her back, and she fell upon the bed with a gentle thump. Garrett was beside her, kissing her and tugging the sleeve of her dress off her shoulders, exposing her skin inch by inch. Cassidy stood watching them, his body hard, his face stiff with lust. “Cassidy,” she said softly, holding out a hand. He shook his head. “Fuck her, Garrett.” Scharlie stiffened. Feeling her withdrawal, Garrett halted his ministrations. They both glanced at Cassidy. “Why won’t you join us?” she asked. “Seeing you both turns me on,” he replied, avoiding the question. But Scharlie had had enough. “So you can sneak off and finish by yourself? What’s so wrong about loving me together with Garrett?” “Nothing is wrong,” he said with a shake of his head. She held out a hand. “Then join us.” Cassidy’s chest rose and fell sharply with his breathing. His eyes went back and forth between them. Scharlie rose to her knees. Her dress fell away, revealing her chemise, which was unbuttoned to her navel, and her soft breasts and puckered nipples to his gaze. She saw him swallow thickly. “You’ve always been in charge, haven’t you, Cassidy? Always the leader, always giving orders.” She ran her hands over up her abdomen, pushing her chemise to the side as she cupped her breasts and teased her own nipples. “But now I’m giving the orders. Do you understand? You will obey what I say, and I want you to strip off your clothing and join me and Garrett in this bed.” Cassidy’s gaze narrowed as he studied her. Scharlie continued with her ministrations, teasing herself by pinching her nipples. Garrett helped her remove all her clothing and tossed the dress and undergarments onto the floor.

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She now waited, completely naked, her hands running up and down her body. Fragments from her lost book returned to her, guiding her ministrations. One finger traveled between her legs, and she opened her thighs more to tease her swollen clit. The sensations caused her to shiver. Scharlie moaned and glanced at Cassidy through hooded eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to replace my finger with yours? Wouldn’t you like to suck my clit until I drip with need? Do as I say, Cassidy. Join us.” The darkness she saw in his eyes shadowed a war he fought within himself. But as she dipped her fingers inside again, he suddenly snapped. The defiance melted away, and with a groan of surrender, he started to strip. A moment later, he eased onto the bed, trapping her between himself and Garrett. Garrett started kissing her neck again, licking his way up and taking little love nips. His hands came around to cup her breasts, taking over teasing her nipples. He pressed his naked body into her backside, and Scharlie felt his hard cock weeping at the tip. Cassidy’s hand on her knees forced her to lean back into Garrett’s arms as he replaced her fingers with his, exploring her. Scharlie reached for his cock. It was big and hard, throbbing with its own heat. She used the pre-cum to lube the bulbous head before using her fingers as a hole to pump it up and down. Time dissolved. Scharlie floated on a sea of bliss as need rose steadily. She licked her lips, wanting to taste Cassidy, so she pushed him down onto his back and leaned forward. Her mouth slipped over the head as she began sucking him, her head bobbing up and down as her tongue traced the shape and width of him. Cassidy let out a long moan, his hips moving in time to her ministrations. “Christ,” he gasped. “Take it deep, Scharlie!” She reached with her hands to encircle the base of him, holding him gently as she tried to stuff more of him into her mouth. When the

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large head hit the back of her throat, it caused a momentary gagging reflex, until she learned to control it by breathing through her nose. And then she started to bob up and down again, bringing him deeper and deeper into her throat. As she did this, Scharlie felt Garrett’s hands on her ass, spreading her thighs apart, rubbing her cheeks, and brushing featherlike touches across her clit. Her stomach clenched each time, wanting more. Garrett’s finger ran up and down, slipping inside each time to tease, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Tingles rose up, causing her to suck a little more frantically on Cassidy’s cock, harder and deeper. And then, suddenly, Garrett’s fingers were gone, but before she could bemoan that fact, she felt his shaft push into her, stretching her wide. She heard Garrett groan as he impaled her over and over, pushing her more into Cassidy’s cock. It was heaven. It was amazing. It was more than any of them could take. Cassidy came first, grabbing her head and holding his cock deep in her mouth as he came. At first, Scharlie thought she would choke, but she managed to swallow the salty essence as it flooded her mouth. He collapsed back down, spent, watching Garrett through half-open eyes. “Oh!” she gasped as Garrett grabbed her hips. Her pussy contracted around him, convulsing as orgasm swept over her. “Yes! More, Garrett!” He obliged, pushing deeper and deeper. And just as her orgasm started to fade, another one swept over her, this time in tune with Garrett’s, who let out a moan as his crest broke over him. His hips gave another pump before he collapsed over her back. Scharlie fell forward, lying over Cassidy’s hips as Garrett draped over her back. As replete as she felt, there was a slight bitterness at the thought that Cassidy hadn’t done exactly as she wanted. He may have fucked her mouth, but he still hadn’t filled her as she longed to be filled, sandwiched between him and Garrett.

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With that thought going around in her head, she fell into an exhausted sleep.

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Chapter Sixteen She was unsure what caused her to wake, but when Scharlie opened her eyes, she was cocooned between Cassidy and Garrett and moonlight was streaming through the window. Unease slithered its way over her skin. She rose and gently detangled herself from the lightly snoring men. She grabbed her dress and hastily put it on, hearing the crinkle of paper as she brought it over her hips. Curiously, she reached into the pocket and brought out the letter she had gotten weeks ago, when she had first picked up the books for her schoolkids. Scharlie quietly left the bedroom and went into the living room, closing the door behind her. She lit a lamp, sat at the table, and opened the letter. Two things fell out. One was a photograph. The other was a note in Harlow’s handwriting. She shook slightly as she read the short message from Harlow, a lump rising in her throat. Dearest Sister, I have a feeling this is the last time I will be writing to you. But I want to explain my life, and why I could never be forthcoming until now. When I left all those years ago, I drifted and ended up working for a man named Allen Pinkerton. Through the years I worked my way up within the Agency until my conscience forced me to disclose that I had killed a man. But let me tell you this, Sheriff Tanner never posted a warrant for my arrest. It was as if my one indiscretion had never happened.

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And so I devoted my life to atonement, catching bad men, Scharlie, and putting them in prison. Men like Breaux Cox. Enclosed is the evidence I’ve been working hard to find but cannot find a way to get it where it needs to go. It’s too important to trust to just anyone. Do this for me, Scharlie. Remember I love you. Tears slipped down her cheeks as she picked up the picture. The photo was of Breaux Cox, younger than when she had met him. The harsh lines around his mouth had not yet formed. He posed in a chair with money bags around him, all stamped with various names of banks. She saw one that said Union Bank of St. Louis and another that read Citizens Bank of Jefferson City. Obviously, Cox had been eager to immortalize his daring bank robbery escapades. And this was the real reason why he had killed Harlow. Harlow must have searched his personal belongings, finding this photograph, and then run to try to get it to the authorities. Why he didn’t hand it over to Cassidy and Garrett was a mystery one would never solve. Maybe he wanted to protect his partners. Maybe he didn’t have enough time. It broke her heart thinking that Harlow knew Cox would be gunning for him, that time was running out. So he sent her the evidence that Cassidy and Garrett were so desperately searching for, knowing they would come to her and tell her of his death. A noise outside caused her to jump to her feet. She extinguished the lamp. She clutched the photograph between her fingers, realizing that whoever was out there, and she strongly suspected it was Cox, the picture must remain safe. She ran over to the books she still had for the children, the ones she had ordered a long time ago, and placed the picture inside the third one. Even if something were to happen to her, the books would be found by someone. She went to the bedroom and eased open the door, seeing Cassidy and Garrett still sleeping. She eased open a dresser drawer and dug

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under the clothes until she felt her gun and then, giving the sleeping men one last loving look, closed the door. She took a kitchen chair and shoved it under the doorknob, trying to protect them and keep them safe. Maybe it was stupid of her, but now she knew why Cox wanted her, and if she could convince him she had already given the photograph over to authorities, maybe he would leave as suddenly as he had appeared. Scharlie checked that her gun was loaded before unbolting the front door and stepping out into the night. The air was cool, causing a little shiver to course over her skin. The moon provided enough light to see across the land. It was beautiful and would have been considered peaceful if the underlying feeling of menace didn’t stalk her. She knew Cox was out here, could feel his eyes on her. She walked off the porch, toward the tree line, her eyes darting toward every shadow. “I know you’re out here,” she called. “And I know you won’t kill me until you know what I did with the photograph.” Cox stepped out from behind a tree, out into the moonlight, and even though his face was mostly obscured by his hat, the new wound running down his left cheek stood out prominently. “So Harlow did send it to you,” he replied. “Yes. But I turned it over to the authorities.” He gave a nasty little laugh. “I don’t think you did. Otherwise those two men sleeping in your bed would have been recalled to Illinois.” “They’re not asleep, so if I don’t show up, they’ll come out here,” she bluffed, improvising. “Why don’t you just give up now?” She brought the gun up, but he was quicker. His two Colts were already cocked and staring her in the face before she had even finished raising hers. The night around her fell deathly silent, or else it was the blood draining from her head, making her feel dizzy. Whichever the case,

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Scharlie suddenly became very scared. She would never see Cassidy or Garrett again, never feel them around her. “Have I thanked you yet for this lovely decoration on my face?” he sneered. “I liked mine so much I thought you should have one,” she said in a quiet tone. She tried to bring some sass to the words, but she couldn’t manage it. Cox laughed, a harsh, grating sound of amusement. “Clever,” he replied. “We could have been so good together, Scharlie Thorn. Now, where is the photograph?” She didn’t answer. But her gun started to waver. The fear was starting to consume her. Cox cocked both guns. “Last chance, Scharlie, before I hurt you. Tell me where it—” “Cox!” shouted Cassidy from behind her. Scharlie almost went weak with relief. Cox kept one gun on her and turned the other onto Cassidy, locking them in a crazy triangle of sorts. “Where’s the other one?” Cox asked. “Come out, Webb! Or I shoot the pretty girl right now!” “You do, you’re dead,” Cassidy promised. Cox gave him a bitter smile. “Well then, I’d die knowing I destroyed your life.” Seconds ticked by. Scharlie felt sweat trickle down the sides of her face despite the cool night air blowing around them. And then she saw a big shadow cozy up to Cox as Garrett brought the rifle barrel flush against his temple. “Drop the guns,” Garrett ordered, his voice cold. “Nice and slowly.” The smile vanished from Cox’s face. “Goddamn Pinkerton agents! You think I couldn’t smell your fucking badges from the start? I’d sooner go to hell than have you take me to federal prison.” “That can be arranged,” Garrett told him.

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In the next heartbeat, everything shattered. Scharlie wasn’t sure what it was that told Cassidy that Cox was going fire his gun, but one minute she was standing, waiting for something to happen, and the next second, Cassidy was diving to the ground with his arms around her. They landed with a hard thud, the sound of guns firing all around. She heard a body fall next to her, and she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the cold, lifeless eyes of Breaux Cox. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the damage that Garrett’s rifle had caused, but a dark pool of blood was rapidly forming around him. Cassidy stood and pulled her up, out of the way of the blood. He pressed her face into his chest. “Don’t look,” he said softly. “Are you both okay?” Garrett demanded, walking over and examining them both. She felt Cassidy nod and closed her eyes in relief.

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Chapter Seventeen The next few days afforded no peace for Scharlie, Cassidy, and Garrett. Their supervisor arrived in the morning, bringing with him a federal marshal and several deputies. When Scharlie showed them the photograph of Breaux Cox sitting among his spoils of lawbreaking, Harlow Thorn was called a hero. Tears of happiness came to Scharlie’s eyes at hearing this. The town of Rock Ridge was in awe of being the focus of attention, and Scharlie was able to resume her duties as schoolteacher right away. Cassidy and Garrett were kept busy, as well, as they dealt with wrapping up the case. And then finally came the afternoon, after school had let out allowing Scharlie to head home for the weekend, that she saw Cassidy and Garrett sitting on her front porch. Each had his hat off, and they watched her bring the wagon around and secure it. Garrett rose and came to help her unhitch the horse. This was all done in silence. While Garrett evaded her gaze, Cassidy’s light eyes did not miss one detail. Dread coursed through her body because she knew that they had something to say. Then she couldn’t put it off any longer. She lifted her skirts and made her way into the house, ignoring both of them. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, and she closed her eyes against the tears building. She was terrified they were going to say good-bye. Garrett entered first, followed by Cassidy. She could tell the difference by the way their boots struck against the floor. Scharlie took a deep breath, gathering her courage, and turned.

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“Scharlie—” Cassidy started to say, only to be interrupted by her. “Are you here to tell me you’re leaving?” They blinked at her before shooting each other a cautious look. “Is that what you want us to say?” She groaned. “Oh, for God’s sake, Cassidy, I thought we were past the tiptoeing around subjects.” “We’re here to ask if you would allow us to stay with you,” Garrett replied. Her breath caught in her chest. She shot a look back and forth between them. “You mean it? You’ll stay with me?” “We love you,” he replied, then took a step closer. “I love you. I want to protect you, grow old with you. Have babies with you.” “Me too,” Cassidy said in gruff tone. “I realize it’s an unconventional life, but I get the impression that your friends and neighbors wouldn’t raise too much of a ruckus.” “You can marry one of us. That way, any children we have together will be legit,” Garrett offered. She was speechless for a moment as the conversation sunk in. Happiness flooded her. “Then I guess I’ll marry you,” she said to Garrett. She saw Cassidy stiffen. “Because it’ll be much easier explaining a Chinese baby if you’re my husband rather than why my husband’s baby looks like his best friend,” she quipped, continuing. “And besides, I wouldn’t want to tie Cassidy down to such a rigid, conventional life.” He frowned at her. “I never said such a thing!” She laughed and threw her arms around both men. “I love you both so much that I never want to be without you.” There was a brief moment as they hugged her back, and then Cassidy lifted her up into his arms. He strode to the bedroom rapidly. “What are you doing?” she asked, a bit breathless. “This is a celebration,” Cassidy explained, looking over at Garrett. “Isn’t that right? You two just got engaged.”

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Scharlie shook her head. “No, Cassidy. That’s not what I meant.” She wiggled in his arms until he set her on her feet. She placed her hands on her hips and glanced between them. “If the three of us are going into this partnership, then there’s going to be a change.” Garrett cocked an eyebrow while Cassidy narrowed his gaze. “We love together,” she said. “I realize there will be times when there’ll be private moments, but if we do this, right now, it’ll be all of us. Can you do that?” She realized the challenge she was giving him. Though he had relinquished control before, it was his trust she was after now. His trust meant everything. The three of them had to be complete before they could begin to fully share their love. And then he started undressing before her and Garrett. Layer by layer he took off his clothes, dropping them as he maintained eye contact with her. “I can strip away everything, Scharlie,” he said. “Can you? You’ll be taken in every place a woman can be taken. In your cunt, in your ass, in your mouth. You’ll be everything we need you to be.” Fire erupted inside, making her legs quiver and chill bumps appear on her skin. She turned to look at Garrett, who glanced at them back and forth. “Garrett?” she asked. He walked over to her and began unhooking the buttons on her shirt. And as his fingers deftly divested her of clothing, his mouth possessed hers. Cassidy moved in behind her, helping Garrett. His lips nuzzled her neck, biting gently at the tender skin. She let go to the sensation of both men worshiping her body. In minutes, her clothes were off and she stood gloriously naked between them. She felt Cassidy’s nakedness against her own, his skin smooth and warm, but Garrett was still fully dressed.

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She started tugging at his shirt, needing to feel him against her, skin to skin. All three of them together with nothing between them, all the barriers stripped away. He took the hint and broke the kiss to strip. Cassidy used the opportunity to swing her up in his arms and take her to the bed, depositing her gently. He dipped his head to kiss her neck, slowly making his way to her breasts. Scharlie’s breath became shallow as she waited, anticipating. He took his time, licking the skin, taking little nibbles, kissing the few moles she had on her chest. And then finally, he reached her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth to roll it around and suck until the tip was turgid. Back and forth he went from each peak until she was thrashing under him, moaning her frustration. As much as she was enjoying the attention, Scharlie desperately needed him other places. But then a different set of hands touched her. Garrett’s fingertips traveled upward on her leg, starting at her ankles and trailing higher until he reached the apex of her thighs. He nudged them apart and found her core, dripping and swollen from excitement. “You’re so fucking wet,” Garrett murmured, dipping one finger into her channel. Scharlie’s hips bucked. “Please,” she gasped. “More.” In response, Cassidy pulled back from her breasts to straddle her chest and bring his cock eye level. Scharlie eyed it, licking her lips. He grabbed his penis and guided it to her mouth, nudging her lips a little until she opened to suck him in. He flexed his hips, burying himself deep into her mouth, touching the back of her throat. She eagerly sucked in deep, swirling her tongue around the hard shaft in her mouth, pulling back some and plunging forward. Cassidy held onto the back of her head, guiding her, in and out, up and down. Garrett moved his fingers out of her swollen cunt, angled her hips, and started licking her slit. For several moments, all that could be heard in the room was slurping and moans of pleasure.

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The dynamic changed again when Cassidy withdrew his dick and Garrett pulled back from her dripping pussy. She groaned in protest, but then fell silent as the men turned her. Garrett lay on his side, facing her. Cassidy lay down tight behind her. “You know what comes next?” Garrett murmured, taking small nibbles around her mouth. She didn’t answer, only lifted one of her legs to drape over his. He held his cock with one hand and pulled her hips in with another. He thrust, pushing into her, making her gasp at the exquisite bliss at having him seated fully within her. He moved her up and down on his cock, touching her all over in his excitement. She wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on as his fingers started touching between her thighs, sweeping over her clit. Her arousal intensified as his fingers found her sweet spot and rubbed it in time with his thrusts. Higher and higher she flew, wound tighter than any clock. “That’s it,” Garrett whispered in her ear. “Let go, Scharlie. Come for me.” She shattered, breaking apart in a thousand pieces. As she soared, she felt Cassidy behind her lapping up her cream and smearing it around her puckered back hole. “Hold on, Scharlie,” Cassidy whispered into her ear. “You wanted us to love together, then your wish is our command.” She was still high on her climax and did not quite understand his words until she felt his cock edge into her from behind. She tensed because she realized that Garrett was still seated in her pussy. “How?” she asked in a startled gasp. “Hold on,” Garrett muttered. He shifted out of her enough for Cassidy’s cock to slide in. Her climax had softened her muscles enough for his penetration to not hurt, although it was a tight squeeze as he kept pushing, going deeper. Scharlie forced herself to relax, breathing shallowly until Cassidy seated himself firmly inside her.

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“Oh my god,” Cassidy groaned, his head briefly bending to touch hers. And then they moved like a well-oiled machine. As Garrett slid in, Cassidy would pull out, and then vice versa. They went slow, allowing her to get used to the feel of them impaling her at one time. Where one ended, the other began, over and over, their increase happening very slowly. “You’re so tight,” Garrett breathed. “So good. So fucking good.” Speed built up as the alternated between filling her ass, then pussy, and then back again. Every thrust was in rapid succession to the previous. Scharlie’s orgasm rippled over her suddenly, taking her completely by surprise. She lost control, bucking wildly between the two men and throwing their rhythm off as her body broke apart in rapture and stars danced behind her closed eyelids. “That’s it,” Cassidy muttered. “Come for us, Scharlie. Oh, fuck, oh fuck!” Cassidy’s breath blew out harshly as he grabbed her hips and erupted inside her. She could feel his cock jerk as his hot cream sputtered deep. Garrett had held still through both orgasms, but as Cassidy’s began to subside, he suddenly started thrusting again, faster and harder than before, now that he didn’t have to go in tandem. “Garrett!” Scharlie gasped, her hips meeting his thrusts. Cassidy had pulled from her body, and now he reached around her to play with her sensitive nipples, pulling on them and pinching them. The little stabs of pain only heightened the pleasure of Garrett hitting so far inside her. And then he grunted as every one of his muscles contracted while his climax broke over him, Spurt after spurt filled her, and Scharlie wrapped her arms around his big, sweaty body.

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He eased off her, and each man cocooned her. Scharlie could feel their combined juices running down her legs, but she was too tired to clean up. She was content, wrapped in the arms of her men.

THE END WWW.BETHDCARTER.COM

ABOUT THE AUTHOR First of all, thank you very much for buying my book. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! I’ve been pretty fortunate in life to experience some amazing things. I’ve lived in France, traveled throughout Europe, Australia, and New Zealand. I am a mom to an amazing little boy named Hadrian. I live in Los Angeles, surrounded by friends and family. I have a fantastic job and work with people I really care about. And I’ve managed to fulfill my lifelong dream of being published. I can’t imagine not creating stories and becoming obsessed with characters I create. I am constantly trying to better my craft, and each book is something near and dear to my heart. I love writing characters who are real, complex, and full of flaws, heroes and heroines who find redemption through love. I draw much from my own experiences and journeys and hope that readers find a part of themselves between the pages. I love to hear from people and can be found on Facebook and at http://bethdcarter.blogspot.com.

Also by Beth D. Carter BookStrand Mainstream: An Innocent Heart Siren Classic: Black Leather Pants

Available at BOOKSTRAND.COM

Siren Publishing, Inc. www.SirenPublishing.com