Rebecca Joyce (3 page)

“No! I’ve got my own shit to do. I ain’t your bitch-boy, Gabe. You fix this,” Braxton argued.

“I just need you to deliver a message. Afterward, I suggest you go find this person who has you all twisted up inside and fuck his brains out,” Gabriel said, straightforwardly looking him directly in his eyes.

There was no condemnation and no shiver of repulsiveness, only understanding and acceptance. Braxton knew that out of everyone in this town, Gabriel would understand. He had seen the same longing in his friend’s eyes since his arrival in Treasure Cove. Oh, Gabe loved fucking the ladies, but like him, he had watched Gabriel walk away too many times with a yearning in his eyes and a hard cock still begging for release.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied.

“Whatever you say, my friend, but I know the difference between the ache for a woman and the need of a man. And, Braxton, your need is outweighing your want. Besides, even Violet knew she didn’t satisfy you last night. You have been away for too long. Go, go to your young man, and bring him home. Until you do, your life won’t mean shit.”

“Easy for you to say. You don’t let anyone get close to you,” Braxton challenged.

“You know nothing about my life,” Gabriel whispered severely.

Ignoring him, Braxton walked to the door. Opening it, he turned and said, “You keep lying to yourself, and I’ll do the same.”

“Will you deliver the message?” Gabriel asked.

Braxton replied, walking out the door. “Yes.”

* * * *

Watching the fields roll by, Braxton tried to forget about the conversation with Gabriel. Had he been that transparent? Was his longing that etched upon his face? If Gabe knew, who else had figured him out?

Fuck! Slamming his hand on the steering wheel, he stepped on the gas and turned up the radio. The loud sounds of Metallica’s “The Unforgiven” blasted through the speakers, and he tried to calm the storm raging in his mind.

Thank God his old man was dead. If he found out what his only son did, he would beat the living shit out of him and have his ass before the preacher, begging to reclaim his wayward soul. Growing up in Treasure Cove as the son of the honorable Judge Edward Connelly, Braxton lived his life by a code. Do the right thing and stay the hell out of the old man’s path. A true bastard, his father never let him forget that he was alive thanks to his good grace and his mother’s pleading.

From birth, Braxton could never please his father. Everything he did in his younger years was to gain the acceptance and praise from the only man Braxton could never get close to. Early on, all Braxton ever wanted was the love and acceptance of his father. For as long as he could remember, all he ever received was scorn, belittlement, and pain, and he had the scars to prove it.

Nobody questioned the larger than life, six-foot-six, hard-as-steel judge. He governed the town with a determined sense of responsibility, justice, and a strong belief in God. A prominent member in the community, his old man made his presence known everywhere he went. Too bad his old man was a bastard who liked whipping his son into submission.

And nobody ever knew.

The night his dad died was the best night of Braxton’s life. Of course to the town, they had lost a true friend and member of the community, but for Braxton, he silently thanked God for putting an end to his hateful tyranny and the horrible beating he was receiving all because his father caught him kissing Steven Wilkerson in his room.

That night was the first time Braxton had ever given in to his deeply hidden feelings. It almost never happened, but when Steven touched his face and leaned into him, Braxton reciprocated, and it was at that precise moment his father walked in. Nothing could have prepared the two young boys for what happened.

Braxton’s father barreled into the room, ripping Steven from the bed and throwing him against the wall. The young junior never saw the punch that landed in his midsection, but he felt the searing pain as he fell to the ground.

Anger and fury flooded Braxton’s system as he lunged for his father, jumping on his back and trying desperately to help his friend from his father’s wrath. But when his father yanked on his arm, successfully throwing him to the ground, Braxton knew the only way he could save his friend was to move in front of him as his father’s foot drew back to kick.

The immense pain he felt as his old man’s boot connected with his ribs took the very breath from his lungs. Gasping in pain, Braxton’s old man picked him up, punching him hard in his face, slurring epithets of hatred at him. The worst was when his father yelled, “God will see me dead before I allow my son to be a faggot.”

Guess God agreed with him, because as his father continued his assault, not even five minutes later, as the leather boot came down against his back for the second time, his father dropped dead of a heart attack. That was the last beating Braxton ever received and the last time he ever gave into his deepest desire, until last month.

Trying to shake that horrible day, Braxton thought of more pressing matters, like the town Charter. No new news had come about that mess, and that had everyone involved worried. The longer the Charter was able to continue as is, the longer those affected were losing money. Braxton had been helping Matthew Jenkins, but when Jeff Hicks called him and asked if he could look into the town librarian’s past, he said okay.

So with folder in hand, he headed toward the JC Ranch to deliver the info and, of course, pass along the message from Gabriel.

Pulling up in front of the large house, Braxton put his squad car in park and got out, leaning against the door. With folder in hand he waited, watching Jeff and Caleb as they loaded the last hay bale into the barn.

He knew they heard him coming up the long drive, and with the mood he was in he didn’t feel like making nice. He just wanted to deliver the folder and message and go home. Looking at his watch, he sighed, realizing his shift was over twenty minutes ago.

Damn.

He watched as the brothers cautiously walked up. “What’s up?” Jeff asked, taking off his gloves.

“I got that information you asked for,” Braxton said curtly.

“Okay, so what’s got your hackles up, Brax? Is there something in her background we can’t fix?” Caleb asked.

“No, you’ll both be able to help her, but that’s not the only reason I came out here,” Braxton said, looking off in the distance. He watched as the brothers tensed.

Damn it, Gabe, you should be the one doing this shit!

“Fuck, man…I hate being the messenger boy. I oughta kick Gabriel’s ass for this,” he began.

“What does Gabriel have to do with this?” Jeff cautiously asked.

“I’m sorry. He’s trying to stop him, but the shit ain’t listening,” Braxton replied anxiously and nervously, silently cursing Gabriel.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” Caleb demanded.

“Jason. I’m talking about that little pissant pussy,” Braxton shouted, releasing some of the tension he had bottled up.

Fuck, that felt good!

“What about him?” Jeff asked, stepping forward.

“Jason, he’s doing a scene with her at the club right now.”

“Who?” they shouted in unison.

“Janie. He’s got her on the cross in…” Braxton said but was interrupted when Jeff and Caleb took off running.

“Caleb, grab the guns!” Jeff said, his voice like steel.

Braxton pushed off the car and coolly said, “Don’t do anything stupid, Jeff. Don’t make me arrest you.”

But Jeff never responded. Jumping into his truck, Braxton watched as Caleb jumped the front porch steps and hopped in the truck. Within seconds, a large duct cloud filled the air as the two brothers were headed to the Pleasure Cave.

For the last eight months, he had watched and laughed with the rest of the town as Jeff and Caleb Hicks stumbled and made fools out of themselves for the love of one woman. And now that she was within grasps, they were not going to let some pissant little kid hone in on what they worked so hard to achieve. They knew she was the one from the moment they laid eyes on her.

So did Braxton when he spied his sexy blond God.

He just knew. Something inside him welled up and burst. He couldn’t really explain it.

It was what it was.

Figuring if those two boneheaded idiots could claim a woman and not give a damn about what happened in their lives or their ranch, then why couldn’t he?

He really had no one to explain himself to.

He did his job well, and if the town didn’t want a bisexual sheriff then fuck them!

Taking out his cell, Braxton typed a message.

They’re coming! I warned you…They’re your problem. You fix it. I’m on my way to Celestial. -Braxton.

The Rainbow Room was buzzing with the craziest people on the planet. There were men walking around in leopard-print loin cloths, women wearing small leaves that barely covered their tits and pussies, and then there were some who just went naked. Some would think this club was nothing more than a brothel of fornication, and Charlotte hated every minute of it.

The noise was deafening. The men and women were out of this fucking world, and add booze to the mix and, well, anything could happen in this place. She didn’t mind the tips, but she counted down the minutes until her shift was over. All she wanted to do was get the hell out of here and find some peace and quiet.

As the only waitress in the establishment who refused to adhere to the club’s dress code, Charlotte did as she pleased. She knew it angered Apollo, but since she brought in more drink orders and new customers to the club than any other employee, he left her attire alone. Besides, she knew she didn’t have the body to fill out what little the other women wore.

So, feeling content and happy in her skinny jeans and white tank, she maneuvered around the throngs of people who clamored for her attention.

Theme night was always big in the Rainbow Room, and by the full tables, she had to admit Apollo hit it big with Tarzan and Jane night. He even went as far as to hang ivy and ropes around the room, and the little gorilla playing bongos in the corner was a nice effect.

Four hours into her shift, her feet were killing her. She needed a break. After serving her latest table, she wandered over to the bar and found an empty stool. She didn’t have to ask for anything because before she turned to yell, the club bartender, Cam, handed her a bottled water.

“You look beat, darling,” the tall Adonis said.

Charlotte couldn’t get over living in Celestial. Yes, the town was fucked up worse than a whore in church on Sunday after a weekend orgy bender, begging for forgiveness, but the men and women who lived here had to be spawns from some alien planet that only produced the hottest, sexiest people on the planet. Everywhere she looked, models and drop-dead gorgeous men walked the streets of Celestial, and that was just the men. The women were, well, they weren’t her!

Charlotte knew only standing five foot four and barely weighing a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, her hopes of walking the catwalk in fashion week was slim to none, but shit, she wished her genetic gene pool would have graced her with a little more height.

Taking a long swig, she sighed. “My feet are killing me. Think Apollo will bitch if I was to duck out of here early?”

“Yes,” the bane of her existence growled behind her.

“Well, if you gave me a fucking raise, maybe I wouldn’t want to leave,” she shot back, smiling at the bartender.

“And if your ass would actually work, maybe I would give you a raise,” he countered.

“Oh well. Looks like I’m never getting that raise.” She laughed.

“All right you two, behave. Apollo, the shipment of alcohol arrived an hour ago,” Cam said, shifting the conversation away from Charlotte and handing Apollo the clipboard with the shipment list attached.

She smiled sweetly at him and mouthed, “Thanks.”

She turned and watched as Apollo walked away and saw someone who looked out of place.

There, standing in the corner of the room, was hands down a fine piece of man candy. Wearing a black Stetson, dark wranglers, a black T-shirt that did all sorts of good things to his chest, and a pair of dark brown boots, was one fine cowboy. His tall, muscular stance spoke of police or worse, FBI, but she didn’t care. After the all the gropes, pinches, slaps and tickles, her pussy needed release in the worst way.

He was magnificent. His short jet-black hair curled lightly at the ends. His firm jaw and straight nose accented his lush, full lips. She watched as he surveyed the club. Her breath hitched when she watched him grin. Instantly her pussy reacted, soaking her panties.

There was something about this man. He was strong, virile, and mysterious. His eyes stayed hidden, like he was hiding something, only adding the allure to his persona. She knew what she wanted, and it was him in her bed tonight.

Computers can wait. I’m getting me some cock!

Jumping off the stool, she grabbed her tray and made her way around the room, her eyes never leaving her prey. She stalked him, watching and learning. Her nipples hardened, and her pussy sang out, oh yes!