Five Ways 'Til Sunday (11 page)

Where the hell was Grady? This punk should never have made it past him. Had he injured him? It had to be the guy who’d been robbing businesses up and down the strip.

“I’ll do what you ask,” she said, turning quickly. With her back to him, she stumbled toward the safe behind her desk. While she shuffled there, she pulled the ring from her finger. Bending to turn the tumbler, she slipped it into her mouth.

“Hurry it up!”

“I can’t think when you shout,” she shot over her shoulder then winced. Who shouted at a gunman?

The lock’s mechanism made its final click. She pulled down the latch, opened the door, and reached inside for the cash tray.

When she turned, she set the tray on her desk. “Take it, that’s all I have. One hundred dollars.”

“It’s not enough,” he said, prowling in front of her desk, slamming his fist against the wall and kicking her desk.

“My purse,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “I have about forty dollars in my wallet. I’ll give you that as well. Just go, please.”

She bent to pick up her purse.

“Don’t you fucking move,” he shrieked. “Gonna pull a gun on me?”

His breaths were short, sharp, and he sounded oddly near tears. Had she somehow rattled him? That might be bad.

Marti held up her hands. “I don’t have a gun. I’m just getting my purse. See?” she said, holding up her right hand, “I’ll reach with my left and put it on top of the desk. Please be careful with that gun. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

She opened her wallet, drew out the bills, and held them up. “I’ll put all the cash in the deposit bag for you,” she said, forcing calm into her voice. “That’ll make it easier for you. I’ll just open my top drawer, all right?”

He nodded, the gun still pointed right at her.

Marti opened the drawer, retrieved the bag and put the cash from the tray and the bills from her purse inside it then zipped it closed. “Do you want the coins too?”

“It’s taking too long. Get over here.”

With her arms raised, she came around the desk, he grabbed the bag, stuffed it down the front of his baggy jeans, then gripped her shoulder and pushed her out the door, down the corridor to the bar.

She glanced around, but saw no sign of Grady.

“Behind the bar. Get on your knees.”

She opened her mouth, not sure what more she could say. She didn’t think tearful begging would work. It’d just piss him off more. Turning slowly, she walked around the bar. “This doesn’t have to end badly. I’ll lie on the floor no problem. I’ll count to a hundred, until I’m sure you’ve had enough time to get away.”

“On your knees.” His hand slammed down on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground.

Her knees hit hard, and that’s when she saw Grady, hands bound behind him, feet wrapped in duct tape with another silver swatch over his mouth. There was blood dripping down his forehead, but he still managed a wink.

She knelt, feeling as though time had slowed, hoping the escalating violence Jackson had worried about didn’t mean the kid was going to kill them this time. He had a gun. He was agitated enough to use it. Wouldn’t you know, the best night of her life might turn out to have been her last.

At the snap, a fireman, a strapping redhead with shoulders as broad as Gus’s, waded through their rank, whipping the quarterback around and stealing the flag from his back pocket.

The play ended, but Jackson plowed into Beau’s middle, taking him to the ground.

“Damn, man. You tryin’ to kill me?” Beau asked, sitting up and shaking his head as though to clear it. “Ain’t we on the same damn side?”

“Yeah, why so rough today?” Craig asked, sitting on the ground beside them while they all caught their breath.

“Just tryin’ to knock those shit-eating grins off your faces.”

Craig laughed. “Can’t help it. My best buddy’s gettin’ married.”

“You know damn well that’s not what you’re smilin’ about,” Jackson growled.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” Craig said, all innocence. He elbowed Beau, who winced. “Do you know what he’s talkin’ about?”

“Haven’t got a damn clue,” Beau said, his gaze locking with Jackson’s.

So that’s how they’d play it.

Jackson nodded. “Guess I don’t have to grind you into the ground.” He got up, reached down and offered a hand to Beau. “Sorry about that buddy.”

Beau snorted. “My sister’s tackled me harder than that.”

Jackson walked to his sports bag to get his thermos. He picked up his telephone and checked for messages. “Thought she’d be here by now.”

“Maybe she decided to sleep in.” At Jackson’s sharp glare, Craig shrugged. “Just sayin’. She had a big night. Girl got engaged.”

Jackson clicked down his list of stored numbers and hit the tavern’s. The phone rang until the message machine picked up. His belly tightened; the hairs on the back of his neck and his arms prickled. “Something’s not right. She said she’d be here right after she and Grady finished their supply order.”

All three locked glances.

Craig blew out a breath. “You don’t think…”

“He’d have to know better than hit a bar on a Sunday,” Beau said. “There’s no cash.”

Jackson cussed and picked up his bag. “Gotta go.”

“Right behind you,” Craig said. He stuck his fingers in his mouth and whistled. “Guys!”

Marti’s car was parked in front of the bar. He’d tried her phone again, but it went straight to voice mail.

“Got a bad feeling about this,” Mondo whispered.

While Craig, Mondo and Beau tried the door in front, Jackson and Gus went around the back. It should have been locked, but swung open without depressing the handle. Tape placed over the strike plate explained why.

Jackson and Gus shared a quick glance, then entered the tavern, pulling the door closed behind them. The corridor was darkened except for light glaring from Marti’s office doorway. A quick glance inside told the story. The safe door was open, the cash tray empty beside her purse.

He cussed softly, wishing he had his sidearm, but it was in the safe back at the apartment. No one carried to the game. Glass crashed in the distance, likely the guys breaking through the front door. Keeping to the shadows in case the robber was still there, he hurried down the hallway. The open area appeared empty, but he ducked down, edging around the bar to peek quickly behind it.

Two figures sat hunched with their backs against one side. “Baby?”

A head snapped his way, a muffled mewl sounded.

“We’re clear,” Mondo shouted.

Lights flickered on.

Jackson hurried around the corner and slid on his knees beside Marti. He nodded to Grady. “Grady’s injured. Who’s callin’ it in?”

“Already did,” Beau shouted back.

“Any sign of him?”

“No. Looks like he’s been gone a while.”

Jackson grabbed a paring knife and knelt beside Marti. He cut through the tape at her feet, then turned her gently to slice through the tape around her hands. She moaned, and he rubbed her shoulders and back.

“I know it hurts. Give it a minute for your circulation to come back.”

She raised her head. Tears tracked down her cheeks and over her taped mouth. He stopped rubbing long enough to pick at one corner of the tape. “This’ll smart.”

She nodded, then gave a high-pitched yelp when he ripped it off.

Instantly, she launched herself into his arms, burrowing against his chest. “I was so scared. He had a gun and was acting weird.”

He wrapped his arms tightly around her and felt her shaking but quickly realized it was because he was shaking. While Gus cut Grady free, Jackson settled on the floor and drew her fully onto his lap. “It’s okay, baby. I’ve got you now. It’s over.”

“I kept talking—I couldn’t shut up. But he was getting more and more agitated.”

He almost smiled, thinking about her babbling, because that’s what she did. “You’re okay now. He didn’t get much cash. And I’m sorry about the ring, but it’s insured.”

“Um, he didn’t get the ring.”

“No?”

She lifted her head and wrinkled her nose. “I swallowed it.”

Jackson gave a single bark of laughter. Marti giggled, then started to cry again. “I didn’t want him spoiling it for us, Jackson. But it’s gonna be a while before I can show your mama what a pretty stone you got me.”

With sirens blaring in the distance, he leaned back, taking her with him as he continued to stroke her back. “Don’t suppose either of you got a look at him.”

“Wore a mask,” Grady said.

“And a Saints ball cap, navy tee, baggy jeans with money bag stuffed down the front. And he’s a white kid with a big nose and tiny chin.” Marti lifted her head, her eyes narrowing on the grin stretching across his mouth. “What?”

“I love you, Marti Kowalski.”

“I know.”

Jackson and Marti stood in front of the chain-link gate.

“Are you sure the skirt’s not too short?” she asked, while combing her hair back with a nervous hand. Would his mother mind the blue streak? Should she have dyed her hair before coming?

“Stop fussing. You look wonderful. Although maybe a little bow-legged.”

She slapped his shoulder. “Not one word. I don’t need to be red as a beet meeting your mom for the first time.”

He opened the gate, then swept out an arm for her to enter. She stepped onto the flagstone path and headed toward the small white-washed house. A row of roses, from lavender to deep red, stood like soldiers in front of the long wrap-around porch. The grass was neatly trimmed. Marti guessed that with four sons, Jackson’s mom need never worry about that.

She halted in the middle of the path. Jackson clutched her hips as he bumped into her. She whirled around. “You never said. How many children do you want?”

Jackson eyed her, like maybe she’d asked a trick question. “As many as you want.”

She narrowed her gaze and snorted. “You’re just saying that so I don’t change my mind.”

“Sweetheart, I already told you, I don’t say anything I don’t mean.” His hand crept around her back, settling in the small just above her bottom. He pushed her gently forward. “I promise she won’t bite.”

“I know. But I want her to like me.” No, she wanted his mother to love her.

As they stepped up the stairs and onto the porch, the curtain beside the window stirred. A moment later the door swung open. A short, compact-bodied little woman with a dark bob and a wide smile glanced from Jackson to Marti. She smoothed her hands on the sides of her skirt, then held out both to Marti.

Marti gave her one cold hand, then felt warmth surround hers as Jackson’s mother pulled her forward for a tight hug. “I’m Mary Teague, but you can call me mom.”

About the Author

Until recently, award-winning erotica and romance author Delilah Devlin lived in South Texas at the intersection of two dry creeks, surrounded by sexy cowboys in Wranglers. These days, she's missing the wide-open skies and starry nights but loving her dark forest in Central Arkansas, with its eccentric characters and isolation—the better to feed her hungry muse! For Delilah, the greatest sin is driving between the lines, because it's comfortable and safe. Her personal journey has taken her through one war and many countries, cultures, jobs, and relationships to bring her to the place where she is now—writing sexy adventures that hold more than a kernel of autobiography and often share a common thread of self-discovery and transformation.

To learn more about Delilah Devlin, please visit
www.delilahdevlin.com
. Send an email to
[email protected]
or join her Yahoo! group to enter in the fun with other readers as well as Delilah:
[email protected]

Look for these titles by Delilah Devlin

Now Available:

Saddled

Stone’s Embrace

True Heart

Undeniable

Lone Star Lovers

Unbridled

Unforgiven

Four Sworn

Breaking Leather

A Four-Gone Conclusion

Coming Soon:

Lone Heart

One devilish night…or a chance at heaven?

A Four-Gone Conclusion

© 2011 Delilah Devlin

Lone Star Lovers, Book 5

Sam Logan’s foster sons have a bad rep in Two Mule, Texas. Most of it earned. When it becomes clear they don’t plan on giving up scootin’ after every pretty pair of boots in town anytime soon, he issues the one thing he knows they can’t resist: a challenge.
Find a wife.

The oldest, Johnny, is actually grateful. He’s had his eye on Mean Ellie Harker for a long time, and Sam’s challenge is the kick in the pants he needed to ask her out. Except before he can make his move, his brothers kidnap her right out from under his nose. Now, instead of being one question away from victory, he has to compete for the woman of his dreams.

Ellie thought she’d be a dried up old spinster before Johnny finally untangled his tongue long enough to ask for a date. But instead of teaching him better uses for that tongue, his brothers have whisked her away to the ranch. At first she’s furious…then intrigued when she starts to wonder what it might be like to have not just one sexy cowboy dedicated to her pleasure, but four…

Warning: Four handsome cowboys. Four choices. Will it be a single sordid night or a chance at heaven as she savors every luscious inch of the Logan brothers?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
A Four-Gone Conclusion:

“It’s time you boys found yerselves a wife.” Sam Logan made his pronouncement then waited, watching the four younger men seated at the table from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to wait long for his words to sink in. They exploded in the room with the force of a silent grenade.

Johnny’s jaw closed with a snap, and he laid his spoon down on the scarred oak table. His black winged brows drew together, nearly meeting over his dark eyes as he raised his head.

Sam suppressed a smile. That look could make the toughest
hombre
gulp, but Sam wasn’t the least bit concerned. Johnny tended to look mean when things changed. His oldest boy hated any kind of change.