Read Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Online
Authors: Natalie Acres
Ansley glared at the exit. They really planned to go to Bermuda without her? Well, she’d throw a little wrench in their plans.
Pasting a smile to her face, she enthusiastically said, “It won’t take me a minute to gather my things. You’re on to something smart here. We need a vacation.” She rubbed her palms together. “Think about who can keep an eye on the club while we’re soaking in some sunshine. I’ll hurry and pack!” She grabbed her keys from the bar and darted toward the door.
“Wait!” Patience called out.
Ansley stopped in her tracks. She didn’t turn around. She wasn’t sure she could face, or handle, the bitter truth. They were headed overseas without her. They were leaving her so they could bake in the sun, soak in the sand and sea, and find the best sugar-coated eye candy the tropical beaches had to offer.
She was practically sick to her stomach.
“Look, Ansley, when we took on the responsibility of the club, we all agreed our holidays together would be limited. Your parents and mine are out of the country. Someone must stay here to watch over the business. We can’t just close down for a few weeks. Besides, Kimberly and I don’t know when we’ll be back.”
“And I’m nominated as the responsible adult capable of running this club while you’re gone?” Ansley asked, aware of the panic rising in her voice.
“Yes,” Kimberly replied.
“Your sister needs some time away,” Patience stated firmly. “And that’s all there is to it.”
“Kimberly
should
go. I understand she wants to run. God knows, one of these days, I may be in the same boat. But Patience, you need to stay here and help. I can’t manage Clink by myself.” A second later, she added with a snap, “And if you’re planning to be away for several weeks without an estimated date of return, there’s no way this club will survive. Anyone with a sane mind knows I’m front-of-the-house! I can’t manage the back-of-the-house. I don’t have a lick of business sense. I entertain our guests. I do not keep stock, balance the books, or enjoy employee relations!”
Kimberly sighed. Ansley thinned her lips. Her sister felt guilty. Her defenses were breaking down. Besides, why would she even want to flee the country without her other half? They were twins. They did everything together.
“You have plenty of help here, Ansley,” Kimberly said firmly. “As for employee relations, I have a feeling you and the staff will get along marvelously.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Patience hired extra help while
you
were vacationing in Mexico.”
Ansley gasped. She knew that trip would come back and bite her in the ass. If she’d kept her photos off the social networking sites, maybe Kimberly and Patience wouldn’t have been so jealous.
A smile tugged at her lips. She closed her eyes to reminisce. Ah, Canc
ú
n. The tempting resort where she’d stayed brought new meaning to public exhibition. The men paraded around the hotel like they were studs for hire. Ansley couldn’t recall a vacation she’d enjoyed more.
Patience grabbed her purse from a nearby barstool. Attached to the zipper across the top, the large brass emblem bumped against the metal bar, and the clanging sound jolted Ansley from her daydream.
As Patience and Kimberly approached the mounds of luggage piled near the club entrance, reality came to call. Sure enough, they planned to abandon her. She wasn’t invited on this girls’ getaway. They were leaving her all alone. Ansley trailed behind them.
“You’ll do a fine job, Ansley,” Kimberly said, placing a quick kiss upon her cheek.
“If you say so,” Ansley muttered.
Patience hugged her. “You don’t have to change your routine. Show up for work like you always do, and don’t worry about anything. The new guys and the entire staff are here to serve you. Oh, that reminds me. Tristan Voorhees is back in town. He stopped by last night and explained why he was forced to take a short leave of absence. He’s bartending for us again.”
“What?” Ansley asked, already aware of her ticking pulse, racing heart, and sweaty palms. Why would Patience rehire an employee, particularly Tristan, without checking with her first?
“I told you she’d be thrilled,” Kimberly said.
“Thrilled? Hell, no. The man is…he’s…” She shook her head vehemently. “He’s the most…”
“He’s what, Ansley?” Kimberly asked, taunting her.
“He’s impossible!”
“No, I wouldn’t use that lone word to describe Tristan. Would you, Kimberly?” Patience asked.
Ansley was boiling. This was planned from the get-go. Their little so-called trip was a last-minute vacation designed to leave her dependent upon Tristan Voorhees.
“
Optimistic
best describes Tristan, I think,” Kimberly remarked.
“What do you mean, optimistic? The man is the most dreadful human being I’ve ever met. Optimism is a positive trait. I don’t see that in Tristan.”
Patience laughed. “Yes you do. And if you don’t, you will.” A beat later, she quickly hurried out the door, calling over her shoulder, “You won’t even know we’re gone. Tristan, Bailey, and the others are here for you. Trust me, they won’t let you down.”
Prologue Two
Marion, Virginia
“Jordie?” Mae Leonard peered inside Jordie Anne’s small bedroom. “Jordie, honey. Are you all right?”
Sitting Indian-style in the middle of her bed, Jordie Anne rocked back and forth, focusing on the scattered pictures spread across her patchwork quilt. She’d been staring at the Cartwell woman for hours on end.
Even though her position at Cow Camp ended years ago, she often tormented herself trying to understand what her husband, Mitch, might have found so appealing about the woman who’d apparently taken her place at Cow Camp. That dreadful summer, her family doctors claimed she was too sick to maintain employment, particularly at a summer camp for children.
Yes, Mitch’s connection with the Cartwell woman was in the past, but Jordie didn’t care. She simply couldn’t shake the rage. In recent months, she’d become obsessed.
No one understood. Counselors and psychiatrists tried to talk to her, but what did they know? They all thought she was crazy with volatile and uncontrollable emotions.
The summer she couldn’t return to Cow Camp had been horrible, and with Mitch in prison, she hadn’t been able to talk to him privately about her feelings. Thanks to her so-called mental illness, Jordie was forced to vacate her position that terrible summer, and she’d never returned to Cow Camp, the most beautiful place in the entire world.
A new counselor, Trixie Cartwell, moved right in and took her job, so she was really to blame, the true reason Jordie wasn’t invited to revisit Cow Camp again. The event happened six years ago, but in Jordie’s mind, it was as though the whole thing happened yesterday.
Ms. Cartwell took her place among Jordie’s friends. Then, the little hussy went to bed with all three of her men.
Oh sure, in the end Trixie sent Mitch home to her, but she still stole away with Brock and Rory. Her actions were unforgivable, and soon she’d pay the price for her selfish greed.
“Jordie!” Mae snapped. “Are you listening to me?”
Jordie Anne jerked. She stared at the woman who’d assumed responsibility for her welfare after the mental health institute released her earlier than expected. Mitch was serving the last six months of his prison sentence, and Jordie Anne had nowhere else to go.
Retired from the state facility, Mae offered Jordie Anne low rent in exchange for room and board. In truth, Mae probably wanted a little companionship, too. She was a very social person.
In any case, Jordie Anne accepted Mae’s offer when she mentioned cheap rates and guaranteed she’d have a roof over her head and hot meals to eat. Mae also helped her secure a job. She’d been a true friend when Jordie Anne needed one.
She’d also been a real thorn in her side.
“What do you want?” Jordie Anne asked, positioning her palms flat against her knees.
Taken aback, Mae nervously slid her wire-rimmed glasses higher on her nose and replied, “You’ve been in your room all day. Your manager called and wanted to see if you could work tomorrow. He said they have a new shipment of surplus arriving early. They need you at work by seven.”
“I’ll be there,” she promised, picking up a picture and studying the devilish skank dressed in a short black skirt and low-cut white top.
Mae took the picture from her hand. Tilting her head, she studied the snapshot as if she were captivated by what she saw. “She’s beautiful. Is she a family member?”
Jordie Anne grabbed the photograph. “No!”
Mae jumped. “Jordie? My goodness, honey, I’m sorry. I thought the gal might have been your cousin or someone close to you.”
Jordie snarled. “Have you forgotten why I’m living with you?”
Mae quickly shook her head.
“I don’t have any family left! Mitch is all I have, and he’s sitting in prison because of this…this woman! She’s living her life while my husband is prohibited from seeing the light of day!” Enraged, she shook the print in front of Mae’s face.
Mae backed away from the bed. “I didn’t know.” Worry etched its place in her wrinkled brow. She stared back at her with a surprisingly cool expression.
She must’ve spotted a stroke of madness. She surely feared her then, and Jordie Anne couldn’t ignore the proof. If Mae was frightened, Jordie Anne could no longer trust her.
“You knew,” she accused, rising from the mattress. Stalking Mae, Jordie Anne towered over the woman’s five-foot-one form. “You’re one of them. Aren’t you?”
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “I’ve never seen this woman before.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I’m your friend, Jordie,” Mae assured her in a clearly shaken voice. “Remember why you were able to leave the Southwestern Virginia Mental Health Institute? I helped you. I told the Board of Directors I’d take care of you, and I’ve been true to my word.”
Jordie Anne swallowed. Her pulse was ticking at an alarming pace. Her mouth went dry. Her delirium was only a few days away. She felt the madness as the sickness rolled over her, the insanity coming forward like an army led by determined soldiers.
There was no escape. There was nowhere to run. The fierce weapons were already drawn.
She’d been provoked. Now, she had a job to do before she succumbed to the lunacy once more. She needed to protect what was hers to guard, only hers to love.
Clutching one of many photographs, Jordie Anne returned to the bed. “Get out of my room.”
“I fixed a spaghetti supper.”
“Get out!” she bellowed, placing her palm flat against the largest sixteen-by-twenty portrait. She dragged the glossy paper toward her hip.
“It’s on the stove if you change your mind,” Mae said, closing the door behind her.
Mae had retired from what was once dubbed the Southwestern Lunatic Asylum. She’d bet pigs and donkeys, cows and horses, too, that Miss Mae didn’t have a clue what she held in store.
Soon, Jordie Anne would return to the very place where she’d spent the last several years, and that was precisely where she would remain all the days of her life. The administrators would dub her release a mistake. They’d later talk to the press and explain her as a patient who slipped through the cracks. Those reporting the news would call her a criminal who committed violent crimes of passion. They would claim the loss of life was a great catastrophe.
She took a weighted breath. She didn’t give a damn what they’d say about her. She would take care of business. Mitch and this fucking bitch had left her with no other choice.