Monday, July 18, 2016

The Rescue Ranch series continues!

Available now at Siren-BookStrand!

[Siren Ménage Everlasting: Erotic Ménage a Trois Romance, M/F/M, light consensual BDSM, sex toys, HEA]

Former Navy SEALs Dillon Stokes and Korbin Blackwell have dedicated their lives to neutralizing terrorism. Now operatives with the ETDF, an elite counter-terrorist force working independently of government protocol, they’re handling the toughest missions in the business. But an assignment is about to drop into their laps that is going to test their skills, hearts, and a fifteen-year friendship.

After three attempts on her life, Temperance Calvert knows someone wants her dead, but the Memphis police don’t believe her. Alone and with nowhere else to turn, the only place she can think to go is Rescue Ranch. But getting close to Dillon and Korbin again will be certain suicide for her heart. Rescue Ranch, a safe haven for wayward boys, has changed since Temperance left Pleasure, Tennessee, but a few things have remained the same. Loyalty, honor, and bravery still run the land, and Dillon and Korbin still hold the key to her soul.


“There was a fire in Temperance Calvert’s apartment last night.”
It took every ounce of control Dillon Stokes had learned in his thirty years of life not to physically react to that news. Inside was a different story. His chest tightened, his heart suddenly hammering as if seeking a way out of his body, and his blood went cold as ice.
“And you’re telling me this now because?”
“She was in a wreck a few weeks ago. Single car accident and apparently walked away without a scratch, but word is it could’ve been a hell of a lot worse.” Korbin Blackwell paused as if waiting for a response to that bit of news. When he didn’t get one, he put the icing on the already cooling cake by adding, “A couple of weeks before that, she was almost hit in a drive-by shooting.”
The vise around Dillion’s heart nearly squeezed the damn ticker in two. Christ! How much pain could the organ take in one morning? He figured he should at least help it out by breathing because, shit, he’d apparently stopped doing that as soon as Korbin had started talking.
He drew in a deep breath, let it out slow, and kept his voice bland when he said, “It sounds to me like she’s having a string of bad luck.”
Truthfully, it sounded like more than that. It felt like more than that, too, but damn if he was going to let his tongue say so. Korbin didn’t seem to have the same control over the fleshy, muscular organ in his mouth.
“It sounds to me like someone is trying to hurt her.”
Dillon had to swallow the lump that formed in his throat before he could speak this time. “Is that what the MPD has decided?”
“MPD doesn’t seem to be taking it seriously. They’re treating each as a separate incident and, lumped together, as one big coincidence.”
Dillon finally tore his attention from the coffin being lowered into the ground several yards away. The crowd that had been gathered around the gravesite had already started to disperse. Some had gathered in small groups to talk, while the rest were headed to the line of vehicles parked in the street that wound through the cemetery. So far, he was the only one who hadn’t moved more than his head. He wasn’t sure he could, especially now when his feet felt as if they’d sprouted roots into the ground beneath them.
 He angled a sideways look at Korbin. “And, let me guess. You’re wanting to help her.”
“We’ve been asked to help her.”
Korbin’s intentional use of the word “we” wasn’t lost on him. Neither was the implication. “You talked to her?”
The green-eyed jealous monster that reared its ugly head in his gut came as a shocker. For starters, why in the hell would he ever be jealous because Korbin had talked to a woman? He and Korbin had been sharing women damn near since they’d figured out their dicks had a more exciting purpose in life than taking a piss. Then, there was the fact that the female topic of this conversation was Temperance Calvert. Temperance, who had made it clear on two separate occasions in the last fifteen years that the only way she ever wanted to see either of them again was over her dead body.
Except that a day hadn’t gone by since that he hadn’t thought of her and a night hadn’t passed that he hadn’t dreamed of her. And, as far as the over her dead body part went, if Korbin’s instincts were on the mark, as they almost always were, someone was attempting to make that part happen.
Korbin shook his head. “I talked to Josh.”
Well, hell. The man was in possession of some serious blow-Dillon-out-of-his-boots ammo today. He even caught himself glancing down to make sure they were still on his feet. He would’ve been less surprised if Winnie-the-Pooh had come to life and requested their help to rescue Piglet from a cell of terrorist Tiggers.
Fifteen years ago Josh Calvert had been a confused, angry, and devastated teenager who had retaliated against his cheating mother by setting two very impressive and well-orchestrated fires in Pleasure. He might have gotten away with them if he hadn’t told Temperance what he’d done. No. Correction. He might have gotten away with them if Temperance hadn’t told Dillon and Korbin what Josh had done.
“He called before the service started this morning,” Korbin went on. “To use his words, he’s buried the hatchet and, in an effort to see his sister stays safe, is attempting to convince Temperance to do the same.”
“She won’t do it.”
Not unless she’d changed a lot over the years. The Temperance he’d known had been fourteen, fiery, feisty, and quick tempered, all of which he’d contributed to her firecracker red hair that perfectly suited her personality and her name. At fifteen, getting to know a girl like her had showed him precisely what he wanted in a woman and damn if he hadn’t been looking for a replica ever since. When he’d turned eighteen, he’d tracked her down once before leaving for his first enlistment with the Navy. Those three years hadn’t changed her a bit. She’d told him in very blunt, very hot-tempered words exactly where he could shove the phone in his hand and had abruptly ended the call.
That was the last contact he’d had with her. The last contact outside of his thoughts and dreams, in any case.
He’d seen her, though. A simple Google search of her name and, wham, he got a page of links that took him to her business website, Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and every other social media site on the internet. And, of course, there were pictures. There had to be pictures. What better way to increase his torment? And, of course, he saved many of those pictures to his hard drive to stare at and fantasize over again and again because, Christ on a pogo stick, the fourteen-year-old girl had turned into one hell of an amazing woman and, for the love of God, he’d still yet to figure out why in the fuck he couldn’t forget about her.
“Josh is hoping we won’t give her a choice.”
The whole not-giving-her-a-choice part brought to mind many of the fantasies he’d had over the years about the one woman he couldn’t shake. “What the hell does he want us to do, kidnap her and keep her hogtied at the ranch until we catch whoever is after her?”

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