The Cowboy Way [Carnal Cowboys 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 17

  “Please, Warren, you don’t want to do this.” Her scream burned in her throat.

  Warren Glasson blocked her way out of the stall. “Oh, I want to, all right. I’ve wanted to do this ever since you killed my mother.”

  She backed up until the wall behind her stopped her. “I didn’t kill her. She was already dead when she came into the ER.”

  “That’s bullshit.” His face was red, filled with his rage. “My dad told me how you worked on her. You did CPR. Nobody does CPR on a dead person.”

  “You’re wrong. We try to revive people even when we know it’s a lost cause. We try because we believe in miracles. You’ve got to believe me.”

  “Get away from her.”

  Mitch’s hard voice caught Warren by surprise. The young man whirled toward Mitch and Wy. “Stay back or I’ll shoot her.” He pulled a handgun out of the pocket of his hoodie and pointed it at her.

  “You do and I swear I’ll tear your heart out,” warned Wy. He and Mitch stood side by side. The determination on his face held frustration. If he or Mitch got any closer, Warren might go through with his threat.

  A small whimper escaped her. If she could get past him, she might have a chance. But between the horse and Warren, there was no space to move. She was cornered.

  “Son, please, let her go.” George Glasson hobbled into the barn to stand near the men.

  “George, you’ve got to understand. I didn’t hurt your wife.”

  “Lies.” Warren waved the gun in the air. “You’re all telling me lies.”

  “No, we’re not.” She squeaked as he once again pointed the gun at her. He wasn’t going to listen. He wouldn’t believe the truth no matter what she said.

  “Listen to your father, kid.” Mitch dared to take a step forward then backed up when Warren stiffened his arm, bringing the barrel up toward her face.

  “Please, Warren, I was wrong.” His father moved closer.

  “You told me she killed her. You told me.” Warren’s eyes filled with tears. “My mom is dead because of her.”

  She couldn’t think of anything else to say. What did it matter when he wouldn’t listen to reason?

  “You fired those shots at the hospital. Didn’t you, Warren?”

  She wondered how Mitch could keep his voice so controlled. Even the anger had leveled out.

  “No. I did.”

  The word was barely spoken, but it was enough. George looked her way, pleading in his eyes. “I had to do something. She’d taken my Louise away from me. But that was then. I realize now she isn’t to blame.”

  “Did you try and shoot her at the rodeo?”

  Wy had inched his way toward the other side of George. Was he trying to get into a position to jump Warren?

  “No.” George shook his head. “But it wasn’t Warren’s fault. By then I’d convinced him that she had to die. I was so very wrong, son. Please, put the gun down. I can’t lose you, too.”

  “Leave me alone.” Warren cupped his hand over one ear, acting as though they were shouting at him. “I don’t want to listen to you anymore. You told me she killed her and now you’re lying. Why are you lying, Dad?”

  “I’m not. I was dead wrong. I was torn up by your mother’s death and confused.”

  “Listen to your father, kid.” Mitch reached out his arm. “Hand over the gun before you or anyone else gets hurt.”

  “Stay back!”

  Breaker startled at Warren’s shout, rearing his head and stomping at the ground. He snorted and shifted his body closer to Warren.

  “Son, I’m begging you to believe me. Dr. Kirkland didn’t kill your mother.” A sob broke from George. “I did.”

  Warren whirled to face his father. “What are you saying?”

  Chey dared to take a step toward the side of the stall. Could she jump over the railing with Breaker blocking her from Warren?

  “Stay where you are!”

  Again, Breaker jerked, his eyes big with fear.

  “Kid, stop yelling. You get that horse riled up and he’s liable to cause trouble.”

  Warren ignored Mitch’s warning, but she didn’t. She moved back to the relative safety in the corner of the stall. Breaker edged closer to Warren.

  But Warren still didn’t pay any heed. “Stop lying, Dad. You didn’t kill her.” He thrust the gun toward Chey. “She did.”

  “No, son. Her death was my fault. I made a mistake and ignored my blood sugar. All I remember is passing out then coming to and finding out I’d run the car off the road.” His sobs grew harder, breaking into his sentences. “I’m so sorry. Your mother…She was…gone. I knew it, but…I couldn’t admit it. Please, son. Forgive me.”

  Warren lowered the gun a little as he gaped at his father. His face was a tortured mask. “No. Don’t. Dad, tell me you’re making it up. Why are you covering for her?”

  George moved even closer. “It’s the truth. I swear. Please, son, put the gun down.”

  Her pulse raced, pounding in her ears. If George could make his son listen, then maybe they’d have a chance.

  A motion off to the side caught her attention. Mitch and Wy had separated while George held his son’s attention. Wy had moved off to the left of the stall while Mitch had gone to the right.

  “You killed her! You killed my mother! You lied!” Warren stalked toward the side of the stall, putting him a couple of feet from Breaker. “I was going to kill her because of your lie.”

  Mitch and Wy remained silent, letting George keep Warren’s attention on him.

  “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me,” begged his father.

  “No! You lied to me. About my mother! Damn you! I fucking hate you.”

  The shot rang out, breaking the air into pieces to shatter around her. George froze for a moment, his astonishment locked forever on his face as blood spread across his white shirt. His mouth opened, but no sound came as he dropped to the ground.

  “Dad! No! I didn’t mean it. Please, no!” Warren cried out and moved toward the gate, but he never made it.

  Terrified, his eyes rolling, Breaker lashed out, kicking upward with his rear legs. His left hoof crashed against the young man’s head. The sound of Warren’s skull cracking followed as he slumped to the floor of the stall.

  She cried out, her legs losing their strength to hold her. Crumpling to the floor, she pulled her knees to her, wrapping her arms around them as the shudders stormed through her.

  She wasn’t sure what happened next. The world grew dizzy around her. Mitch’s and Wy’s shouts came to her as though through a large body of water.

  “Chey, baby, are you hurt?”

  She couldn’t respond to Wy’s question. Instead, she remained mute, allowing him to run his hands over her body, checking for injuries.

  “Get her out of here, Wy.”

  She felt strong arms picking her arm and gave in to the comfort there. Laying her head against Wy’s chest, she held on to him as he carried her out of the barn. Sunlight surprised her. How could it be so bright after what had happened? “I have to help George.”

  “You don’t have to do a damn thing, baby.”

  Any other time, she would’ve argued, but she had no energy left. Instead, she remained silent, letting the sun wash over her as he carried her into the house.

  Epilogue

  “She’s doing great.” Chey laughed as little Charlotte May, Bill and Lucille’s one-year-old baby, played with the stethoscope hooked around her neck. The baby had just had her first-year checkup at what had been Dr. Varner’s clinic.

  He’d finally retired eight months earlier after he was certain Chey was “up to snuff” with all his patients’ records. The elderly physician had grilled her endlessly, but she’d passed with flying colors.

  She loved practicing in the small town. The pace was much slower than the ER in San Antonio, and although she’d feared she might get bored, she found out she loved having more time to spend with her patients. In the ER, she’d seen people when they were sick or hurt and
had rarely gotten to follow up with them. In Garner, however, she knew almost everyone and saw them not only in the clinic, but around town as well.

  “How are your two handsome men?”

  “As ornery as ever.” Reluctantly, she handed Charlotte May back to Lucille and felt a tug in her abdomen. Taking care of babies was her joy, and with each passing day, she found it harder and harder to hand them back to their parents.

  “And how are the wedding preparations coming along?”

  She dragged in a deep breath. “Okay, I guess. I’m not very good at those things.”

  “But it’s only a month away. Don’t you think you need to get busy?” Lucille nuzzled the baby’s neck, tickling her into giggling.

  “I know, but I’ll get there. My best friend Jeremy’s coming up from San Antonio to help me.”

  “A man?” Lucille made a face. “What does a guy know about weddings?”

  “Oh, come on. Lots of guys handle weddings and dresses and bunches of things. How sexist can you be?”

  “I guess I’m just old fashioned. But if you need any help, give me a call. After all, you’re Charlotte May’s honorary auntie.”

  “Thanks, but I think you have your hands full.”

  “Where’s our woman?”

  Wy’s boisterous voice echoed in from the waiting room. He liked making a grand entrance, especially if it embarrassed her.

  “Looks like they’re here,” sang out Lucille. “I’ll let you get to them.” She snuggled the baby into her carrier, then gave Chey a hug and led the way out of the examination room.

  Lust hit Chey hard and fast, as it always did whenever she saw them. They were the best-looking men in town, no matter what other women said. And they were all hers.

  “Hey, Lucille, how’s my best girl doing?”

  She cocked an eyebrow at Mitch. “You’d better be talking to Charlotte May.”

  “Oh, I am. Doc, are you ready to get home?” Mitch dropped the magazine he’d picked up and grinned at her.

  She waved good-bye to the mother and child then moved in between her men. Standing between the two sexiest cowboys around was the best place to be. “I’m more than ready.”

  Wy took her by the arm, leading her out of the clinic. Once she’d locked up, she let Mitch help her into the pickup and slid across the seat to sit in the middle.

  Halfway out of town, she knew something was up. Mitch was acting antsy, and Wy was too quiet. “What’s going on? And don’t try to tell me I’m imagining it.”

  Mitch shoved his hat back on his forehead and reached his arm around. “We heard from Bruce today.”

  “Oh. Now I wish I hadn’t asked.”

  “Do you really want me to tell you?”

  “I’m not looking forward to hearing it, but I still have to know.” She kept her attention on the road ahead of them. If she looked into his eyes and saw sorrow there, she’d lose it.

  One year ago, Warren Glasson had cornered her in the barn and threatened to kill her. One year ago, he’d died instantly when Breaker had kicked him in the head. And one year ago, a wounded George Glasson had gone insane.

  “George’s condition hasn’t improved. He’s still committed to Mayfield Farms Hospital near San Antonio.”

  She let out a long sigh. Her hope that George had somehow made his way back to reality was gone yet again. After checking on him every so often, she should’ve expected the answer would be the same as before. Yet the flame of hope was hard to extinguish.

  “You need to stop worrying about him. You’re no more to blame for his state than you were for his son’s or his wife’s death.” Wy kept his hands on the steering wheel, instead bumping his shoulder against hers. “He may never get better. The man went through a lot.”

  “I know, but it’s so awful. He lost his wife, then his son. And finally his mind.” She hated thinking George would never snap out of his trancelike condition, but the reality was that he’d never be the same as he was before Warren’s death.

  “You did everything you could for him. It was up to his attorney and the courts.”

  Mitch was right. After the highway patrol had taken Warren’s body away and put George into the ambulance, she’d taken a week before finally trying to help George. She’d gone to all the hearings and had told her story so many times it had finally started to feel like she was telling someone else’s story. Like something she recited on cue.

  “Let’s change the subject, okay?” Wy flipped off the radio even though it wasn’t very loud. “How are you doing on finding a dress?”

  Mitch chuckled and played with a strand of her hair. “I can’t believe those words came out of your mouth.”

  “Screw you, cuz.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll have a dress. I wouldn’t want to show up naked at my own wedding.”

  Wy jerked the truck to the left of the line then brought it back. “Damn, woman. Don’t say stuff like that while I’m driving.”

  “Just be careful.” One reckless night had cost George Glasson so much. “Anyway, Jeremy’s arriving tonight to help me and I want you two to behave. He’s my best friend and my bachelor of honor.”

  “We’ll be on our best behavior.” Mitch crossed his heart then grinned. “At least, we’ll try.”

  “Uh-huh.” She slapped his chest playfully. “In the meantime, there’s another matter I’d like to talk to you about.”

  “Yeah? What’s on your mind?” The glint in Wy’s eyes warned her. “Other than getting naked.”

  “Well, actually, it involves getting naked.”

  “Go on,” urged Wy.

  “I don’t want to wait until we’re married to start trying to get pregnant.”

  “A baby? Holy shit. Where’d that come from?”

  She checked, half expecting Mitch to be frowning. Instead, he seemed amused and definitely interested.

  “I told you taking care of all those babies at the clinic would get her thinking.” Wy made the turn onto the drive leading toward the house. “Not that I’m complaining.”

  “So do you two want to try and knock me up?” She’d hoped they’d want to, but hadn’t wanted to hope too much.

  “Damn straight we do.” Wy pressed on the gas pedal, sending the pickup flying down the dirt road. “Just don’t expect us to take it easy on you.”

  “Is that so? Are you saying you’re going to ride me hard?”

  Mitch slid a hand between her legs. “Doc, we’re going to ride you harder than you’ve ever been ridden. It’s the cowboy way. Think you can handle it?”

  She gave him a smug smile. “Give it your best shot, guys.”

  THE END

  WWW.JANEJAMISON.COM

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jane Jamison has always liked “weird stuff” as her mother called it. From an early age she was fascinated with stories about werewolves, vampires, space, aliens, and whatever was hiding in her bedroom closet. To this day, she still swears she can hear growls and moans whenever the lights are out.

  Being born under the sign of Scorpio meant Jane was destined to be very sensual. Some would say she was, and remains, downright sexual. Then one day she put her two favorite things together on paper and found her life’s true ambition—to be an erotic paranormal romance author.

  Jane spends at least six days a week locked in her office surrounded by the characters she loves. Every day a new character will knock on the door of her imagination. Her plans include taking care of her loving husband, traveling, and writing at least twelve books a year.

  For all titles by Jane Jamison, please visit

  www.bookstrand.com/jane-jamison

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

 

 

 
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