Acres, Natalie - Sex Club [Cowboy Sex 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (36 page)

Yes, her entrance was a godsend. In her presence, they could think of better days, brighter hours. She provided the perfect distraction.

Tristan swiped away a fallen tear and turned the other way while Ansley walked across the room and took a seat on the sofa, sandwiched between Graham and Elliott.

“How much have you heard?” Tristan asked when he faced them again, concern marking its rightful place in his wrinkled brow.

“I heard everything,” she admitted. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

“You weren’t supposed to know,” Tristan mumbled, shooting Bailey a quick glance.

He wondered if Tristan held him in contempt. Down deep, Bailey knew he’d made the right choice when he told Ansley they were brothers, but he couldn’t help but wonder—could the Killian brothers be trusted?

“Bailey and I would appreciate it if you kept our secret.”

“Absolutely,” Graham said. “You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Tristan said.

“Yes,” Bailey added. “We’d appreciate it if you...” His voice trailed as he started to warn them further but he quickly decided they were smart enough to read between the lines.

“We’ll never place you or Ansley in danger by sharing what you’ve told us,” Elliott said, gripping Ansley’s hand.

“So what happened to all the money?” Graham asked.

“We’ve invested most of it. We always keep a few million on hand in case we have to run last-minute. We have a number of identities, passports, and everything we need to skip town on a whim,” Tristan explained.

“Do you think you’ll have to leave Asheville?” Ansley asked.

Bailey and Tristan shared a knowing stare. “Yes, Ansley,” Tristan answered honestly. “We have friends and informants who keep in touch with us.” He lifted his shirt and showed her a small pager, a state-of-the-art device quite developed since the initial palm-size devices were first available on the market. “When we get the call, we pack up and move.”

“I see,” she said, staring down at her feet.

Tristan went to her. Squatting between her legs, he said, “Ansley, I know this is more than you signed on for, and I understand—Bailey and I both do—if this is too much to ask of you.”

“What are you asking, exactly?” Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes full of hope.

He turned his head and faced Elliott. Then, he glanced at Graham.

“Are the two of you in?” he asked, placing his palms over Ansley’s trembling, clasped hands.

“We’re with ya,” Graham said. “We have a life here, a home, so how far we can go with ya, I don’t know, but we’ll figure out the details. There’s time.”

“How much we have is the question,” Tristan admitted.

Bailey stood. He walked over to the sofa and sat on the end, watching his brother as he made a leap of faith, a sudden jump he never expected either of them to take.

“You don’t know. Do you?” Ansley asked, her blue eyes moistening. “You have no idea how long you’ll stay. You can’t give me another hour, another day, nothing for sure, can you?”

Tristan tilted her chin. “I can promise to love you. I can swear I’ll take a bullet for you if it’s ever necessary, and I won’t hesitate, Ansley. I can tell you I’ll work my ass off to make you happy, keep you at the center of my world for as long as I live, but no, I can’t tell you how long Asheville will be my home.”

A lone tear ran down her cheek. “Then you never planned to stay in my life. Did you?”

“I couldn’t stop myself from loving you, Ansley. I knew before I arrived here. I felt this longing, this unexplainable urge to meet you. And after I saw you? The devil himself couldn’t keep me from loving you.”

Ansley sniffled. Then the tears came in droves.

“Ah, baby, don’t cry. Come here,” Tristan said, dragging her into his arms before sliding backward. His ass hit the coffee table where he eventually sat with Ansley’s small body cradled against his.

When the crying subsided, she said, “I love you, Tristan. You can’t leave me.” She quickly looked at Elliott and Graham. Then, she cut those remarkable blue eyes Bailey’s way, too. “None of you can leave me. I’ll love you for the rest of my days. If you have to run, I’ll go with you. We’ll stay together. We’ll do what’s required and fight for one another.”

“Honey, we can’t always take on the world and win,” Tristan said.

“I know,” she assured him, repetitive sniffs resounding in the room. “But when we can, we’ll beat our enemies together. When we can’t, we’ll still stick together anyway. As long as we’re together, we’ll be happy regardless of where we live.” She hurriedly scanned all their faces. “And we’ll be a family with sons and daughters of our own.”

Chapter Twenty

The Cartwells were apparently considered the rich and famous around the mountains of North Carolina. After her run-in with the local police officer, Jordie Anne headed to a nearby convenience market and started asking questions.

Through her inquiries, she’d discovered Ansley and Kimberly Cartwell were Trixie’s younger sisters. They owned a kink club.

The writing was on the wall. Her so-called investigators had tricked her. Either that, or one of Trixie’s sisters claimed she was Trixie when she first called Clink to make her initial threats. With her medication, Jordie Anne couldn’t recall precisely what she’d said that first day she’d called the club.

Had she asked for Trixie or Ms. Cartwell? She couldn’t remember.

After returning to her vehicle, she’d sat in the car staring at one of the images of who she believed was Trixie. Clutching the photograph in her hand, she’d waited until she saw a carload of young people and approached them. Flashing the glossy print, she’d asked them, “Do any of you know this woman?”

A few of them said “yes,” but one man in particular said, “Yeah. That’s Ansley Cartwell!”

“Are you sure?” she’d asked.

“Damn straight I am. I go to her club all the time. I keep thinking one of these days I’ll have the opportunity to watch her perform like her sister used to when she was dating that old creep she used to see.”

She’d hurried away without thanking them.

“Hey, lady! My friend here says she knows where Ansley is staying these days if you’re trying to find her.”

Slowly, she’d turned around. “You do?”

Without any coaxing whatsoever, the girl had eagerly said, “I was with my boyfriend last night when Ansley Cartwell pulled in a parking space with one of her bartenders. They were making out in his sports car. They’re staying at The Grove Park Inn, over at the cottage.”

Again, she turned without thanking them. An hour later, she wheeled in the parking lot of the famed resort. She’d taken a spot next to a sidewalk leading to the gardens, right between a gray Jeep Cherokee and a maroon Porsche.

* * * *

After Tristan met the Pop-a-Pizza delivery guy in front of the hotel, he returned to the cottage. They sat down together and enjoyed the most mouthwatering thick-crust pepperoni pie Tristan had ever slipped between his lips.

“That was yummy,” Ansley said, pushing away from the table thirty minutes later.

Dressed in a simple white dress, she hadn’t bothered with undergarments, and Tristan couldn’t help but notice her perky nipples pressing through the linen material. With dinner out of the way, Tristan’s mind was on dessert.

“Take the dress off,” he ordered, leaning back in his chair.

Immediately, her cheeks turned pink. God, he loved that.

“Tristan, I need to let my food digest,” she complained.

“Are you defying me, sub?”

She gasped. “You won’t start calling me your sub from here forward. Will you?”

Her reaction and question drove him. “Take it off, sub.” A beat later, he added, “And absolutely. You’re mine. I’ll address you how I see fit.”

Immediately those little beads became harder, definitely more visible, through the clothing she wore. He chuckled to himself. She could deny how she felt about Domination and submission until the cows mooed and the pigs oinked, or whatever other Southern term was in practical use around these parts.

He’d never believe Ansley wasn’t interested in being his sub. Her body’s response proved otherwise. She was turned on, eager to submit, perhaps even fascinated by the lifestyle.

“It’s chilly in here,” she said, buying time.

Glancing at the wall and reading the thermostat, Tristan said, “It’s seventy-eight degrees, hotter in here than it is outside.”

“What if I need to go to the bathroom?” she asked.

“Do you?”

“No,” she replied.

“Why don’t you take the dress off and quit stalling?” Graham asked.

Elliott snickered, shoving a thick wedge of pizza crust between his lips.

Bailey frowned. “Is something else bothering you, Ansley?”

She immediately glanced toward the bedroom. “No, it’s just—” Midsentence she gasped. Staggering terror washed over her face as her arm propelled toward the window and she practically dove for Tristan, who was standing inches from her. “Move! She’s got a gun!”

A round of bullets ricocheted around them. The men hunkered down, inching toward Ansley so they could hover around her, protect her with their bodies.

“What the hell!” Tristan cursed aloud, practically tossing Ansley into Bailey’s arms. “Is Jordie Anne inside?”

Shattering glass resounded. Wood splintered as slugs pounded the furniture.

“No!” Ansley screamed. “She’s outside the window.”

“Wait here!” Tristan yelled, sprinting to the hall closet.

“You can’t go out there!” Ansley wailed.

He grabbed an automatic weapon from a high shelf and ran to the sidewalk. He raced to the end of the concrete path, made a sudden leap for the hood of Jordie Anne’s car, and landed on his stomach as she slammed the car in drive and took off.

Tristan lost his weapon in order to grab a good grip of her automobile. He was at her mercy, but he didn’t care.

Tristan stared Jordie Anne in the eye and said, “You’ve got the wrong woman, bitch! Do you hear me! You’re after the wrong damn family!”

Tristan couldn’t recall ever seeing a colder pair of eyes. What the hell had Brock Sheldon ever seen in this piece of work?

She slammed the car in reverse and made a hard left turn at the corner. Tristan took the only opportunity he might have and rolled away from the vehicle onto the hotel’s front lawn.

He’d tried to stop the woman who wanted to harm Ansley, and he’d failed. How in the hell did he think he could protect Ansley from his problems if he couldn’t save her from her own?

* * * *

“I just spoke to Brock,” Kane Cartwell announced, entering the master bedroom of their oceanfront villa. “Jordie Anne found Ansley and her new boyfriends tonight.”

“Oh my God, Kane!” Peyton screamed, rushing him. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine,” he replied, patting the hand covering his forearm. “Brock is on his way over to The Grove Park Inn now. He’s moving them to Clink. He swore he’d stay with them.”

“Who had the bright idea to go there?” Braden asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“It was mine, actually,” Kane bit out. “Kimberly remodeled a suite there. Brock said he’ll stay in the office. He’s asking the bouncers to come in and help them secure the club. With the security cameras and Baron there, Jordie Anne would have to be a dead-level lunatic to try and make another move tonight.”