Her Cowboy Doms [Pleasure, Texas 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 13

  “Sweetie, you’ve got another table that just came in. They’re not regulars.” Barb dipped her head, scrutinizing her. “If you’re not up to it, I can take them.”

  Enough was enough. If Paul and Destin weren’t going over the club’s records in the back, Barb’s suffocating attention would’ve had her out the backdoor and running toward the house.

  “I’m fine. Really. Stop worrying about me. I’ll take care of them.” She hoped Barb would finally get the message to leave her alone. Unless, as she suspected, Paul and Destin had put her up to watching over her. If that was the case, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  The six men who had taken the table closest to the exit joked and laughed as she walked over to get their orders. Four of the men had on cowboy attire to the hilt, but they didn’t strike her as real cowboys. Now that she’d hung around the ranch hands and the Casing men, she could see the difference. The wannabes tried too hard, putting on everything from spurs to the type of shirts old country-western singers used to wear. Ranch hands wore simple clothes, opting for functionality and comfort over appearance. The other two men wore jeans, but no belt buckles or hats.

  She cleared her throat, then pointed to her head. One of the house rules was for men to take their hats off when inside. It took a while for the group to catch on. Once they’d taken off the hats and hung them on the back of their chairs, she gave them a wide smile and put her pencil to her order pad.

  “Hi. I’m Georgia. What’s it going to be, guys?” She paused, getting into the perfect waitress stance. All she needed to do was to chew gum and she’d be like all the waitresses she’d seen in the movies.

  She nodded as the men told her what they wanted. Then when she came to the last man, she refreshed her smile and lifted her eyebrows in question. “And you, sir?”

  His black gaze met hers. She’d seen a lot of the same “screw you” glints while on patrol.

  Aw, hell. Don’t go there.

  “I’ll have a whiskey sour.” His lip tipped up in a snarl. “And make it fast, bitch.”

  She bristled. None of the regulars would’ve ever spoken to any of the staff that way. “Sir, I realize you’re new here, but we don’t allow customers to speak to us that way. If you do it again, you’ll have to leave.”

  Her nerves, the gut instinct that had kept her safe as a cop, jumped to life. There was something not right about the man. She studied him, from the black hair and black eyes and the way he held his shoulders, to the tip of dark ink that peeked out from under his shirt sleeve.

  “You going to make me?”

  What the hell? What’s wrong with this guy?

  “Come on, Jack. Don’t act that way.” One of the other men punched him in the shoulder. “This is our first time here. I don’t want it to be our last.”

  Jack’s snarl didn’t lessen, but he backed off and rested his elbows on the table. “Like I said, get me a whiskey sour.”

  She nodded, unwilling to call him sir again, then moved away. It took everything in her not to run, but she’d be damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. He’d rattled her, but he didn’t need to know it.

  Once at the bar, she told Wilson what she needed, then peered into the mirror hanging behind the rear counter lined with bottles and glasses. She watched Jack, keeping her gaze down whenever he turned to glare at her.

  “Okay, don’t tell me that nothing’s wrong now.”

  Georgia gripped the end of the bar. “Not really, but maybe I do need a break. Would you mind taking over for me?”

  Barb blinked, thrown by Georgia’s change of mind. “Sure, sweetie. Go on back to the house and take it easy.”

  Georgia gave her a hug, then put down her pad. She headed toward the hallway, then on impulse, turned around. Jack’s hard scowl locked onto her.

  Her stomach did a sickening flip-flop as she spun back around and rushed toward the back. She couldn’t say what made her think so, but Jack seemed familiar.

  * * * *

  Three days later, she stood in one of the best places on the ranch. The horse barn, even with its all-too-fragrant odors, had become her afternoon destination whenever she had spare time.

  “Snickers, I swear I think you can tell what I’m thinking, can’t you?” Georgia reached through the slats of the stall and gave the horse another carrot. She’d gotten accustomed to giving the horses a treat. Of course, Snickers always got an extra treat.

  She whispered conspiratorially. “That’s right. Don’t you go telling the other horses about this second carrot. I wouldn’t want them to know I play favorites.”

  The hairs on the end of the horse’s mouth tickled her palm. She couldn’t help but giggle. One of the best things about Pleasure Ranch was Snickers. Riding had gone from a pastime to a passion.

  “I promise. We’ll go riding tomorrow morning. Hopefully, along with Sidewinder and Trader.” Which meant, of course, that Paul and Destin would be the ones riding the other two horses.

  Pulling out yet another carrot from her pocket, Georgia stretched her arm out and offered it to Snickers. “Here you go, pretty girl.”

  The pain that blossomed in the back of her head spread like lightning to stab into her eyes. She pulled her arm back, dropping the carrot to the floor of the stall, then moaned as everything went black.

  Chapter Eight

  Georgia swam through the black water. Her breath hitched, but she kept going, knowing that if she didn’t reach the surface, she’d die.

  “Hey, bitch. Time to come out of it. Come on. I didn’t hit you that hard.”

  The cruel laughter was out of place in the water.

  “Not as hard as I’m going to hit you the next time.”

  Pain erupted in her breast, breaking the water apart into slashes of light. She didn’t want the light to hit her, but she had no choice. Again, the pain came, this time from her other breast.

  She ducked her head as a new pain, different from the first two, struck her eyes. Blinking, she struggled against the light, her eyes adjusting to the brightness. The bark of the tree she leaned against poked sharply into her back.

  “That’s it, you fucking cop cunt. Open your eyes. I can’t wait to see the look in them when I slit your throat.”

  She opened her eyes to see the customer, Jack, from the club a few days earlier. She tried to croak out a question, but her mouth was too dry.

  He lifted a canteen to her mouth and she drank, the water soothing her throat as it spilled over her chin. He took the canteen away.

  “Don’t know why I’m wasting good water on you. You won’t live long enough to die from dehydration.” His black eyes held malice and anger.

  “Jack?”

  “Good. You remember my name. But you don’t know my last name, do you? It’s Warton. Jack Warton, or as I like to think of myself, Slasher Jack. It has a ring to it, right? Not as good as Jack the Ripper, but I’m not a copycat. You think of my name when you take your last breath.”

  “What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?” And then his words came rushing back. He knew she was a cop. Had she arrested him? It wasn’t unheard of for a criminal to seek revenge from the police officer that had busted him.

  “So you didn’t see me. Huh. I thought as much, but I couldn’t be sure, could I? But then when you didn’t let out a howl for help at that pervert club, I knew.” He squatted next to her. “I thought for sure you’d recognize me.”

  He hadn’t tied her up, but why? He knew she was a cop and had learned hand-to-hand training, so why take the chance that she’d fight him? Or make a run for it?

  “You’re wondering why I didn’t tie your ass up.”

  Was she that obvious? “Yeah.”

  “Don’t go thinking I’m stupid. I just like a victim who can put up a struggle.”

  He reached to grab her breast again, riding his sleeve up his arm. A wave of nausea washed through her when she saw it. The white cross in the head of the black snake shone as the sun struck it. She’d assumed h
e’d had a tattoo the night she’d waited on him, but lots of men had tattoos. How was she to have known it was that tattoo. She’d only seen the tip of it.

  “Is that why you killed an eight-year-old little girl? Tell me. Did she put up much of a fight, tough guy?”

  The slap stung her cheek, wrenching her head to the side, but she wouldn’t cry out. She’d never let him have the pleasure of knowing he’d hurt her.

  “She bit me. The little whore bit me.”

  Georgia laughed. “Good for her.”

  His sneer came back a second before he hit her again. Her head swam, spinning the world around her until her vision righted itself.

  “She was good, all right. Fresh, young blood on my hands.”

  Choking down the urge to claw at him was harder than anything she’d ever done.

  Glancing around her, she sought out anything she could use as a weapon. The campground was bare except for a backpack and the burning embers of a fire. How long had it been? Overnight? If so, Destin and Paul had to be out hunting for her. But would they find her before it was too late?

  “I didn’t recognize you. Why should I? I didn’t see your face.”

  “Well, shit. A guy kills a family and you don’t remember him?” He pursed his lips in an exaggerated pout. “Damn, and here I thought we had something special, Officer Fox.”

  He had to have figured out her name, either from checking around or from the news reports.

  “Yeah, that’s right. I know you’re the cop who kept the case going, keeping it alive and you on the search. You’re a bitch in heat with a bone, aren’t you? When all the other cops would’ve let the case go cold, you had to keep sticking your fucking nose in again and again.”

  “How’d you know I was here?”

  “Hell, bitch, a man can find out anything if he’s got the cash to pay. Besides, you didn’t exactly keep it a secret using your credit card to buy your plane ticket and pay for the rental truck.” He feigned a worried expression. “You really should be more careful. There are all kinds of criminals stealing identities nowadays.”

  He paced away from her to dig into the backpack. “Now where the hell did I put that knife?”

  He grinned savagely at her. “I’ve got a special knife all for you. It’s never been used before.” He paused, putting his finger to his lips in thought. “No, that’s not right. I used it once before. Did you hear about the Harper family? They were such a nice family. Especially the teenage girl. I had a real good time with her.”

  She held back the rise of bile. The Harpers were the second family he’d killed. The ones he’d slaughtered after she’d left Atlanta.

  “That was your fault, too, you know.”

  “What?” He couldn’t have said much worse to her. “Horse shit. I’m not to blame for anything except not shooting your sorry ass.”

  “Aw, now there’s the fight I expected from one of Atlanta’s finest. But you’re wrong. I bought the knife for you and then you up and left town. It took a while to find out where you went, and in the meantime, I had to satisfy the itch. Then when I saw Mrs. Harper coming out of the grocery store, I figured I’d follow her home.” He stood and held up a long, sharp butcher knife.

  Maybe it was the threat of the knife glittering in the sun. Or maybe it was the anger she felt at his blaming her. Whatever served as the catalyst didn’t matter. She was on her feet without thinking it through, yelling a curse, and charging toward him. She managed to land a good punch before he grabbed her hair, twisted her around, and put the knife to her throat.

  “You fucking cunt!”

  “Turn her loose.”

  Georgia froze along with Jack.

  Destin and Paul stood at the end of the small clearing, rifles balanced against their shoulders.

  “I said, turn her loose.” Paul stood, feet apart, ready to pull the trigger.

  “Fuck that, man. You come any closer and she gets filleted like a trout.”

  “Georgia, are you all right? Can you do what I say?”

  She gaped at Destin. Why was he asking her that? He could see how she was. Yet, all at once it hit her. He was telling her to obey him.

  She didn’t fully understand, but she knew one thing. They were her Doms and they’d do anything to save her. All she had to do was trust them.

  It was an easy thing to trust them with her life. She’d already trusted them with her heart.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you fuckers?” Jack lessened his hold on her. He waved the knife at the men. “Where do you think you are? At your pervert club?”

  Paul put his finger on the trigger. “Listen up, baby.”

  “Yes, Master Paul.”

  “Master? Damn, you guys really are freaks.”

  She jumped her gaze from Paul’s to Destin’s. He nodded once, then spoke the words she’d obey without question.

  “Go dead. Now!”

  She turned loose, her body going limp in Jack’s hold. Her body was deadweight as she fell to the ground. She’d given over complete control to the men she loved, trusting them to protect her. Another part of her, deep inside, a part that she’d shared that day under the tree took flight, ridding her of the last of her guilt.

  Jack stumbled, trying to keep his hold on her, but her abrupt collapse was more than he could handle.

  “You cunt!”

  A gunshot echoed in the air, frightening birds from the trees. She heard Jack’s groan and felt his body hit the ground next to her.

  Destin and Paul were beside her, pulling her into their arms. Staring down at the unseeing eyes and the bullet hole in his forehead, she felt nothing for Jack. The day she’d waited for, all the hours she’d spent laboring over files and mug shots, had come to a quick and final end.

  Every ounce of energy was gone. She lay limp against Paul and pressed her face against his chest. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t mention it, baby.” Paul picked her up, carrying her as he’d done before.

  * * * *

  Georgia set the white chair on the front porch, rocking, and watched as Paul and Destin strode toward her. She knew what they’d say. They’d spent the past week trying to convince her to return to Atlanta. The local sheriff had called the Dallas Police Department who had arrived within a few hours to take custody of Jack’s body and go over the crime scene. She’d already explained time and again what had happened the day Jack Warton had tried to kill her, and now all she wanted was to sit and enjoy the tranquility of the ranch.

  Until that moment, she hadn’t been able to voice why she didn’t want to go. Other than not wanting to ever leave their side, of course. But even after they’d offered to come along with her, she’d still refused.

  She held up one finger as they took the chairs on either side of her. “Don’t even start. We’ve gone over it enough.”

  Paul lowered his chin and gave her a pointed look. “You should go. The Atlanta Police Department doesn’t hand out medals every day.”

  “Yeah, sugar.” Destin put his hand on top of hers. “You deserve the recognition.”

  It was an argument they’d tried several times before. “No, I don’t. I’m not the one who stopped Warton. You two are.”

  “Hey, I didn’t pull the trigger, either, so how do you figure I deserve any credit?”

  “Because you were there, Destin. You helped me know what to do.”

  “The same could be said of you, baby.” Paul didn’t rock his chair. He never did. He crossed his arms and studied her. “You’re the one who kept hunting for him. You’re the one who made him come after you.”

  “Not on purpose. I didn’t know who he was.”

  “Okay, maybe that’s so. But your relentless search for him made him uncomfortable enough that he felt he had to find you.”

  She let out a sigh. “It’s still not the same thing. You’re the one who finally got him, Paul. Not me. I don’t want any medal.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, yet she knew the
y hadn’t given up. And she was right.

  “Damn it, Georgia. You deserve the medal for knowing what to do. For giving me the opening I needed to shoot him. For having courage in the face of real danger. As your Dom—”

  She tensed, then put all her anger into her scowl. “No. You can’t use that. You can’t command me to go. You said you were my Doms in the bedroom, in play, and at the club. Not in any other part of our life. So don’t push that shit on me now.”

  Paul’s irritation hit her like a Texas tornado. “You’re right. I can’t force you to do that or anything else you don’t want to do. But don’t you get it, baby? Can’t you see how far you’ve come? The first day you arrived here, you didn’t know what it was like to be a sub. You denied ever being able to obey us. But then, you listened to your heart and let the submissive side of you come out. For that alone, you deserve recognition.”

  She laughed, but mirth wasn’t in the sound. “Oh, sure. I can see it now. My captain, the Chief of Police, and the mayor are going to love it when I say I deserve the Medal of Honor because I’m your submissive. Yeah, that’ll go over well in the newspaper interview, too.”

  Destin turned his chair to face her. “Damn it, if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for everyone else. Show Atlanta that they have a great policewoman—”

  “Who’s leaving the force to move to Texas.”

  “That doesn’t matter. Show the murderers and criminals that no matter how long it takes, the law will find them. Show little girls everywhere what a strong woman looks like.”

  Paul stood and went to the porch railing before facing her. “If you won’t do it for us, if you won’t do it for yourself, then do it for the families he killed. Let their loved ones have that closure.”