Under the Midnight Stars (11 page)

Thankfully, Colt didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. He had never been much of a drinker. When the going got tough, he simply got tougher, and worked even harder. He wasn’t about to hide behind the bottle until his heart gave out. But he had always been curious as to what had attracted his father to this place. For just this once, he wanted to see what his father had seen.

Walking in, Colt took a seat at the bar. “I’ll take a beer.”

The gruff man behind the bar scratched his black beard, then his swollen belly. “What kind?” His drawl was thick. He stared impatiently with dark eyes.

“Anything in a bottle.”

Grabbing a brown bottle from the icebox, the bartender reached under the counter and popped the top before setting it in front of Colt. “Should I run up a tab?”

“Naw.” He shook his head.

“All right then, that’ll be two ninety-five.”

Colt fished four ones from his wallet and tossed them onto the bar.

“Thanks.” The man gathered up the ones before going about his business.

Colt scanned the dank, dimly lit bar. Neon beer signs decorated the walls. Most were half-lit or off altogether. There was a pool table in the corner surrounded by five bikers with graying beards. He wondered if they were the same group of men he’d often seen passing through town when he was a teenager.

At the other end of the bar sat a lone brooding man with his white cowboy hat pulled down low. He was staring into the brown liquid in his shot glass as if it were a magical crystal ball displaying the apparitions haunting his life.

Two more men sat alone at tables, one wearing a brown cowboy hat, the other a blue baseball cap, and drank away their sorrows.

It was dark and gloomy. No real place to celebrate. The Watering Spot was just that — a spot to quench one’s undying thirst while wallowing in one’s dying thirst for life.

Across the smoke-filled room, in a corner booth, he spotted Billy Collins with his lips locked on some blonde. With Billy’s arrogantly large head in the way, Colt couldn’t see the woman’s face. Billy finally let the poor woman up for air.

Son of a bitch!
Colt scowled, recognizing Amy, the friendly young waitress from the diner. He watched as Billy nibbled her neck and slid his hand under her pink blouse. She giggled and stopped his hand just short of her bosom, trying to push it away. Billy pressed on, kissing her neck, trying to fondle her breasts.

Colt clenched his jaw, ire scorching his blood. Not a full day had passed, and Billy was already preying on his next victim. Half of his face was bandaged, for crying out loud. Had he not learned his lesson yet? Colt shook his head, disgusted.

The man at the end of the bar lifted his head. He grinned and left his stool to sit one away from him. “Colt Tayler?”

Colt eyed the familiar man. “Roger Sinclair?”

“That’s right. Wow, you’ve grown.” Roger grinned. “How’ve you been?”

“Good.” Colt nodded.

He didn’t remember much of Roger Sinclair. Just that he was a friend of his parents long ago. But he was glad to officially meet the father of the woman he was falling for. He hoped they’d remain on good terms once Roger found out he was having sex with his daughter.

“Stop.” Amy’s pleading voice captured both men’s attention.

They snapped their heads in her direction as swiftly as a lion leaped on its prey.

She giggled again.

Both Colt and Roger let out a wary sigh of relief.

“That damn Billy Collins.” Roger shook his head. “Cocky little sucker, he is.”

“You’ve got that right,” Colt agreed. Roger had the right to know about what the cocky sucker had done to his daughter, but Colt had to respect Brielle’s wishes.

Roger turned his attention back to Colt. “You look a lot like your mom…” he said sincerely. “Your hair color … the eyes … I heard about what happened to her.”

Colt took a sip of his beer and nodded with a heavy sigh.

“I’m sorry, Colt. She’ll continue to be missed.” He lowered his head.

“And I’m sorry about your wife,” Colt added solemnly.

Roger tossed back his shot and slammed the empty vessel on the bar. He slid it toward the bartender and pointed to it.

The bartender refilled it and slid it back to him. “The last one’s on me, Rodge.”

“Thanks, Frank.” Roger tossed back the last shot before turning his attention back to Colt. His demeanor hardened. “They never did catch the bastard.”

Colt furrowed his brow, wondering if he’d missed a bit of the conversation. “They never caught who?”

Roger enunciated every word. “The bastard who killed her. They never caught him.”

Uneasiness crept into the pit of Colt’s stomach. “The bastard that killed
who?
”

“My wife.” Roger glared at him. “Haven’t you been listening?” He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “My wife was raped and killed, and they don’t know the bastard responsible. He’s out there somewhere.” He paused and glanced around. “Or maybe in here. Probably about to do the same damn thing to some other unsuspecting angel.”

Colt’s heart dropped. Brielle thought her mother had died of a heart attack. All this time the truth must have been hidden from her to protect her. But if the man responsible was still living in this town, Brielle wasn’t safe at all. No woman was.

“Do me a favor, will ya, Colt?” Roger sighed with drunken exhaustion. “Keep an eye out for my daughter. I don’t want the bastard getting his filthy scummy hands on her. No one’s gonna lay a hand on her. She’s my little girl, dammit!”

Colt swallowed guiltily. “Will do.”

Roger suspiciously eyed the group of bikers playing pool. Motioning in their direction with his head, he whispered to Colt, “Maybe it was them. They were drinking here the night she was killed.”

He glanced at a lone man sitting at a table, wearing a blue baseball cap pulled over his eyes. With another flick of the head toward the lone man, he leaned in closer to Colt. “He’s a bloodsucking recluse who only shows his face after dark. He’s been slapped more than once for mishandling the waitresses, and is rumored to travel hundreds of miles northeast to get his jollies off at a brothel once a month.”

Colt cringed inwardly.

Roger continued, “Another suspect that nobody recognized was never detained for questioning because he just up and disappeared after that night.”

Roger watched as Frank left the bar to deliver a drink to a table in the corner. Using only his eyes, Roger motioned toward Frank. “He was always telling me what a lucky man I was to have such a looker for a wife.”

Then he glanced at Billy. “And he’s always getting’ into some sort of trouble or another. You’d think he’d be just the opposite with the town sheriff for a father.”

Colt couldn’t believe what he’d just been told. He shook his head, realizing that any one of these bastards could be the culprit, or none of them at all. There was no evidence to prove anything. Just a family torn apart by the senseless murder of a woman they loved more than life itself.

Jack approached and put his hand on Roger’s shoulder. “Ready to go, Dad?”

Roger glared at Jack, then at the bartender. “Aw, dammit, Frank. Why’d you have to go and call Jack again?”

“Because you’re three sheets to the wind, old-timer,” Frank replied gruffly. “Now go home and sleep it off.”

“Hey, Colt.” Jack sounded tired.

Colt wondered if Jack was tired from working hard, or tired of being designated driver for his drunken father. He kept the conversation to a minimum for Jack’s sake. “See you tomorrow, Jack.”

Jack gave a quick nod and headed for the door.

Roger stood and unsteadily followed his son outside.

Colt felt bad for Jack, remembering all too well what it was like to have an alcoholic father — though the burden of looking after him had been a weight his mother had borne alone, along with the foul-mouthed obscenities he’d spat at her when he’d gotten angry.

He never knew what had caused his father to jump from the occasional drink on his days off to drinking every night ’til his death. His father’s drinking was probably the reason he was hardly ever home as a teenager — always trying to keep himself busy with friends and football. And though his parents appeared the happy couple, he seriously doubted that, if they were alive today, they’d still be married. After all, no woman would be crazy enough to endure such treatment for the rest of her life.
Would she?

He turned his attention back to Billy and Amy. His heart stopped when he noticed the booth sat empty. “Shit.” He left his half-drunk beer and bolted from his stool to the front door. He scanned the parking lot, looking for Billy’s truck.

Jack drove by and waved.

Colt waved and walked around to the side of the building to see if the truck was there. The parking lot was dark and empty.

“Dammit!” He made a beeline for his own truck and climbed in. He didn’t think Billy would be stupid enough to take another date to the same desolate property across from his farm, but he decided to look there anyway. When he finally reached it, he traveled the dirt road until it ended, but found no sign of Billy or Amy.

“Damn!” He hit the steering wheel in frustration and drove home.

Wearing only a smile, Brielle gathered her pile of clothing and tiptoed up the stairs. She hadn’t planned on waking up two hours before dawn to sneak into Colt’s house to surprise him with the wanton appetite he’d awakened in her, but her sensual dreams about him had left her aching for more.

She set her clothes on the upstairs hallway floor and crept into Colt’s bedroom, trying not to wake him. The dim moonlight allowed her to see through the darkness just enough to make out his muscular silhouette, sprawled naked as a jay bird atop his sleeping bag. His breathing was deep and steady. A warm gentle breeze wafted through the open window.

With anticipation of the sensual molding of bodies they had shared the day before, she crossed the room and lay down next to him and carefully laid her head on his chest. She wasn’t quite sure what to call their relationship at this stage. She hadn’t seen him since five o’clock yesterday, when Jack had carelessly cut himself with the saw while cutting a two-by-four for Colt. The wound wasn’t very long, but it was deep enough for stitches. So instead of enjoying a first date, Brielle was stuck driving her brother to the emergency room.

Colt stirred, a slight smile crossing his face, and resumed his deep breathing.

She smiled and bit her lower lip, eyeing his broad chest, his taut nipples, the swirl of brown chest hair turned silver by the moonlight leading the way to his groin.

She lowered her eyes to his rising manhood. It grew until it towered rigidly over his body.
Everything
is
bigger in Texas,
she thought quietly, and continued to bite her lip to suppress a giggle. Wondering if he knew she was there, she looked at his eyes. They were still closed, and his breathing was still deep and steady.

Her attention was drawn back to his stiff muscle. She was curious as to what it felt like. Slowly, she reached down and gently wrapped her fingers around it. It was warm and hard, yet smooth and just pliant enough to give way to conform itself within her.

Colt groaned and mumbled something unrecognizable in his sleep.

She quickly released him and propped herself on her elbow. Slowly, she leaned down and kissed him softly.

Colt’s eyes flew open. He grinned and pulled Brielle on top of him, his erection now trapped between their bellies. With both hands on either sides of her face, he kissed her hungrily.

Then gently he lifted her head from his. “You’re a little early, aren’t you?” he asked huskily.

“Mmm hmm,” she replied breathlessly. “I couldn’t stop dreaming about you.”

He guided her head back to his and kissed her fervently. He let his hands roam over her buttocks and then he lifted her from his chest to caress her soft supple breasts.

Brielle moaned at the tingling sensation flitting through her nipples. She looked down, eyeing his manhood as it stared at her, longing to be touched. She took it gently, caressing it, relishing its smooth hardness and the dominating effect it had on her senses. Especially the senses deep within. She longed to feel it inside her.

Colt closed his eyes and groaned. He pulled her head back to his, seeking her lips.

She pulled away from his hungry kiss, eager to have him wholly. Before he could react, she lifted her hips and mounted him, sliding him deep within.

He groaned, gritting his teeth at the unexpected surge of pleasure.

She lowered her head to his and whimpered at the sensual fulfillment.

Colt grabbed her hips and lifted her slightly, only to lower her back onto him, guiding each movement to match his. Brielle moaned, quickly catching on to the rhythmic motion expected of her from being on top. She rocked her hips, perfectly timing her movements to meet each of his thrusts. With each impalement the pleasure became stronger, more blissful.

“Oh Colt,” she whispered breathlessly.

When it was almost too much to bear, her body released itself from the sensual torture, exploding, shuddering, relishing waves of pleasure.

Colt let out a relieving sigh as he expelled himself within her.

Exhausted, breathless, satiated, she flopped onto his chest, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck.

Colt suddenly tensed.

Brielle began to panic, wondering if she had just overstepped her boundary. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way she did? Maybe he didn’t want her like this? Maybe he took yesterday as a
one-time
encounter? But then he’d kissed her before she’d left that evening, set on seeing her today to help him pick out some furniture. She swallowed nervously, toying with his chin dimple shadowed by the moonlight. “Was this not okay for me to come here? To make love to you?”

He chuckled slightly. “Have you gone mad, woman? Of course this was okay. This was
more
than okay.” He hugged her tightly. “It’s just … I sort of didn’t have the opportunity to put on a condom first. Or time to even think of one.”

Brielle snapped her head up and gasped. She pushed herself up from his chest, straddling him, her heart pounding fearfully at her asinine mistake. “I’m so sorry. I forgot. I’m not used to this sort of thing.
Crap!
” She covered her gaping mouth with both hands.