Sexual Healing (Contemporary Cowboys 1)

“She said that, did she?” He fiddled with his cell phone as he waited for their reply. Thank God the boys in the sticks still used their CBs. Folks in the city often made fun of them for the old fashioned tools and products they still used on a daily basis. “What about those blood hounds that were on her?”

“Big J, something tells me that Cartwell fella from North Carolina is gonna be a real good friend of ours.”

Either that or he was going to be a real pain in their ass.

“Little J, what’s your ETA?”

“Look behind ya, big brother. You’ll see my headlights in about five or six seconds.”

Jax slid away from the truck and kept his gun trained on the man who had tried to harm his woman. He knelt next to them and said, “When you post bail and I’m sure you will, you get in that fancy vehicle of yours and you get on out of here. In this part of the country, we look after our own. Folks around here grew up working for a living and we don’t take kindly to those who come in and try to harm one of our women.” Jax took the heel of his boot and pressed it against Handsome’s jaw. “Do I make myself clear?”

About that time his brothers pulled up behind him and a couple of cops in SUVs pulled in behind them. Doors slammed all over the place.

“Jax!” Brianna ran straight into his arms, locking her legs around his hips and hanging on for dear life. “I was so worried.”

“I knew you’d save me,” he said, winking at his brothers and cupping her bottom with both hands. He could get used to this, the hard ridge of his cock nestled against the warm heat of her denim-clad pussy. Yes indeed. He could get used to the finer things in life.

“Go on and grope her in front of everybody. Might as well. From what I can tell, everybody who’s wanted a piece of that has had some,” Handsome said.

Tyler and Flint beat Jax to the punch. Before Jax could gently release Brianna, they’d already taken it upon themselves to deliver a few kicks to the fellow’s middle.

Cops rushed the scene then. “Boys, move back!”

Andrew Little, a friend of the Jacksons, rushed Jax. “This your scene?”

“It’s not my scene,” Jax said, referring to the fact that he didn’t affiliate with city slickers who took it upon themselves to abuse women. “But the rope job is mine to claim.”

“Damn boy, you need to give up buying cattle and just rope ’em for a living.”

“I’m not a rodeo cowboy.” Jax draped his arm over Brianna’s shoulders. “Besides, I have a feeling I’ll soon have a good woman who’ll want to keep me at home.”

Brianna snuggled closer to him. About that time, Kane Cartwell appeared. Gemma, Drina, and Coco rushed Brianna and it physically pained him to release her so her sisters could check her out and assure themselves and each other that she was fine.

“Consider yourself lucky,” Kane said, shaking his hand and slapping his back. “I’ve had my son-in-law doing some PI work on this group.”

“Mob?”

“Oh yeah,” Kane said, tilting his head toward the vehicle. “I’d like to talk to you about that.”

Jax, along with his brothers, walked away from the others so they could talk privately. Brianna watched them, seemingly distant as she spoke to her sisters in a low voice.

“This isn’t the end of this,” Kane said. “You’ve got a war coming and you’d better be ready for it. On good advice, I suggest you leave town for a while.”

“Leave?” Jax snorted at that. “You call that good advice and I call it plumb stupid. We’ve got land here and over ten thousand head of cattle in five counties right now. We can’t go anywhere.”

Kane’s lips thinned and he curled his fingers against his brow, seemingly lost in thought. “You boys have no idea what you’re up against here.” He frowned. “Listen, you seem like good guys, but you don’t want to be involved with this.”

“We’re already involved,” Tyler said, that hot temper rearing its ugly head.

“He’s right,” Jax said, trying to keep a level head. “We aren’t going anywhere, Mr. Cartwell. Our folks were killed five years ago. It was ruled an accident. We inherited our family farm and rent four other properties here trying to help other families hang on to what’s left of their families’ farms. Around here, we don’t run from our problems. We join together as a community and work to resolve them.”

“Son, you don’t seem to understand. These guys mean business.”

“And you think we don’t?” Tyler asked, moving aside his jacket and showing off the butt of his gun. “Listen, Mr. Cartwell, with all due respect, I’m not real sure you understand the way farming is now in these parts. Half of the businesses around here are drug infested, and family farms are where a lot of the weed is grown and the meth is cooked. Another twenty-five percent of those properties are run by those considered the upper echelon of the livestock trade. They run their drugs and their cattle about the same way—transporting them across the country on the back of eighteen wheelers. The rest of us are legitimate but legal operations come at a price.”

“He’s right,” Jax said. “There isn’t a week that goes by that somebody isn’t approaching us for illegal action.”

Kane massaged his jaw. “It’s gotten bad over in Fletcher, too.”