Summer's Wicked Cowboys [Casanova Cowboys 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Read online

  Casanova Cowboys 3

  Summer’s Wicked Cowboys

  Five years ago, Carter Ryder fled his hometown the night his parents were killed, leaving a nightmare, and the two people he loved most, behind to enlist in the army. An attack on his outpost left him with the psychological burden of war and his promise to his fallen friend to fix the mess he had left in Ryder.

  Summer Enderson’s heart and dreams were shattered the night Carter left. The only comfort she found was sharing her pain with Carter’s closest friend, Braden Hoyt. Slowly, they built a new life together on selfless love, and the scars left by Carter began to fade. When Carter returns unexpectedly, all of her old hopes and despairs burst to the surface.

  Not everyone is thrilled about the missing Ryder’s return. While Carter is fighting to win back the trust and hearts of Summer and Braden, someone is threatening to bring harm to them, and with it, a dark secret that can crumble the foundation of the Ryder family.

  Genre: Contemporary, Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Western/Cowboys

  Length: 68,319 words

  SUMMER’S WICKED COWBOYS

  Casanova Cowboys 3

  Rhea Regale

  MENAGE AMOUR

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

  SUMMER’S WICKED COWBOYS

  Copyright © 2013 by Rhea Regale

  E-book ISBN: 978-1-62740-717-5

  First E-book Publication: November 2013

  Cover design by Harris Channing

  All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

  All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

  PUBLISHER

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  Letter to Readers

  Dear Readers,

  If you have purchased this copy of Summer’s Wicked Cowboys by Rhea Regale from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

  Regarding E-book Piracy

  This book is copyrighted intellectual property. No other individual or group has resale rights, auction rights, membership rights, sharing rights, or any kind of rights to sell or to give away a copy of this book.

  The author and the publisher work very hard to bring our paying readers high-quality reading entertainment.

  This is Rhea Regale’s livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. Regale’s right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  I would like to thank all of the military officers and their families for the continued sacrifices they make for our country. My undying gratitude and respect goes out to you each and every day.

  A very special thanks to Steve for his help and input into the life of a soldier serving in the Infantry overseas. I feel so privileged to have been given the opportunity to see how our soldiers operate through the stories he shared with me, the traumatic experiences soldiers face, the adrenaline that propels them through crucial assignments, and the anxiety of the unknown. Without our conversations, Carter’s character would never have bloomed to the extent he did.

  I once told Steve I could never do his job, one that places his life on the line every day. For that, I thank him and all of the men and women daily for their selfless sacrifices. This one’s for you!

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  About the Author

  SUMMER’S WICKED COWBOYS

  Casanova Cowboys 3

  RHEA REGALE

  Copyright © 2013

  Chapter One

  Carter chuckled, a sense of nostalgia coming over him from the song that blasted through the stereo speakers. One of his men jumped off the ground and began strumming an invisible guitar, his forehead creased as the upbeat tune sang by the familiar voice filled the cramped quarters.

  “I’m hittin’ sticks, waiting for that angel to find me,” Joel sang out, exaggerating each note in a comical impression of Brody’s hit single. The small group of men burst out laughing. Henry nudged Carter’s rib and whipped a roll at Joel. It bounced off his forehead and landed in the center of the rickety table. Carter snickered and shook his head, tearing off the meat from a drumstick and popping it into his mouth.

  “Watch it, JP. Carter’s tight with the real singer,” Tyler warned with a smile. He popped a handful of peanuts into his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “This is one song your pathetic singing voice may not want to butcher.”

  “All in good fun, brotha,” Joel said, winking at Carter before spinning around, still holding tight to his invisible guitar and hitting the strings with an exaggerated fervor. “I like this guy. He’s got some good songs.”

  “He’s doing well for himself,” Carter said. He dipped his roll into the small puddle of sauce on the paper plate and tore off the end with his teeth. “We’re nothing more than small-town farm boys trying to find our place in this rotten world.”

  “Well, it doesn’t get more rotten
than this,” Henry said, perching his elbows on the table and focusing his attention on Carter. “Does it, brother? My damn eyes are fucking tired of this godforsaken arid weather. We’ve got two more days before we head back to base in the great U. S. of A. Can’t wait for some cool mountain air, my wife, and my two little guys.”

  “What the fuck’s wrong with you? I can’t wait to throw my wife in the sack and bang her until she can’t walk for a week!” Mike, the youngest of them, declared. He grabbed his dick in his camouflage pants and wagged his brows. “I haven’t gone this long without getting laid. Soap and a hand is a pitiful substitution.”

  The conversation turned to wives and girlfriends waiting back in Colorado for their return from Afghanistan. Carter shut himself out of the heated talk, forcing the burning ache in his chest to subside as he finished up his food, slung his Saw over his shoulder, and left the tent. He instinctively rubbed the outside of his uniform pants pocket, the telltale resistance from the two photos he kept with him easing the tearing of his heart.

  “Hey, Cart. Wait up.” Henry fell in step beside Carter and dropped an arm around his shoulders. The gun dug into his back. “I know you’re a private guy and all, but I think we’re good enough friends that I can cross those unspoken boundaries and give you a little bit of advice. You really need to fix things at home. Those guys in there notice every time you walk out of a conversation about loved ones. Their inquiring minds are eager to know what gets you in a knot. All these years together, getting each other’s backs and making sure we return home, alive, and those boys know nothing about you. The biggest chunk they’ve got on you is that you’re a farm boy and Brody Allen’s your cousin.”

  Carter flashed him a smile and shrugged. “You know quite a bit about me.”

  “I know it, but man, we see so much shit here, it’s not healthy to pile more anguish on top of what’s probably gonna land us in serious therapy for a while.” Henry brought him to pause in the middle of the dusty road and forced him to meet his gaze. This man had become as close to a true brother as possible over the last four years. Carter may hold rank over Henry, but when it boiled down to basics, Henry sure held far more rank in everyday life.

  Carter’s smile faded, and he wiped the newly formed beads of sweat from his forehead. Ten o’clock at night was still uncomfortably hot. The breeze, if one blew, was as warm as a Kansas field in the dead of summer with the sun beating down from above. A haze of particles from the sand seemed to hover day in and day out, burning his eyes and leaving grit along his lips.

  “Joining the infantry was a small measure of peace for me, even if every day brings the threat of death to my doorstep. Call me twisted sick, but this is my quiet salvation, a way to rebuild myself,” Carter muttered, keeping close watch on the trio of soldiers passing by. They saluted, and Carter returned the gesture. Henry might understand what drove him into the front line branch of the military, but Henry also had an air of wisdom about him that his other brothers in arms did not.

  “That might be so but this isn’t getting to the heart of the matter. That’s back home in Ryder. I want you to promise me something, Cart. When we get back, I want you to return home and face what drove you into this hellhole. I want you to find that woman and fix things between you both. Promise me, this way when I pop in for a surprise visit, my wife has a woman to talk to. God knows my poor girl is gonna be overrun by the male species in our household.” Henry clapped his shoulders, his fingers holding tight through Carter’s gray T-shirt. “Promise me.”

  “This is why I don’t discuss family matters with anyone. Family is family, and that’s where it stays.” Carter groaned, unable to swallow back the chuckle ignited from Henry’s perseverance to fix his broken soul after so many years. “Nagging bastard. Fine, you’ve got my word, but I’m not making any promises your surprise visit will provide company for your wife.”

  Henry smiled, giving Carter a small shake. “I’m looking forward to seeing where you come from. I’ve told Jilian all about your town. She’s getting these crazy ideas about moving to the country and buying a horse farm.”

  Carter laughed, starting back to the bunkers. He slipped his hand into his pocket and stroked the glossy surface of the worn photos without removing them. Despite everything he’d shared with Henry, never once had he shared his photos with the man. Every time he looked at them, he drowned in self pity and regret, anger and self-loathing. He had been a fool to run away, but at the time, he didn’t know what else to do.

  “A horse farm, huh? Tell her to do some research about keeping a horse farm. It’s not an easy job,” Carter said, his voice light. “One of my cousins breeds horses for rodeo and shows. Those creatures are children to him, and they demand just as much time and care. Jilian’s got her hands full with those two devils you spawned.”

  “You’re not kidding,” Henry agreed. “My mother-in-law’s been helping her out. My soul’s gonna be owned by the woman when I get back—”

  An explosion shook the grounds. The sharp crack and dull thud of wood and brick breaking echoed through the quiet night. Carter quickly looked around, pinpointing the direction of the attack.

  A siren went off. A second explosion blasted through a row of tents at the far end of the outpost.

  “Fuck. C’mon!” Carter yelled, grabbing Henry’s arm. Soldiers poured out of tents and ran into positions throughout the COP walls.

  “Get to the tower. We’ve got this handled.” Henry said, giving Carter a shove toward the TOC as another explosion lit up at the base of the tower. “Oh shit!”

  “What the fuck is happen…Damn!” Mike hollered, catching up with Carter and Henry, the rest of Carter’s men following.

  “Carter, catch.” Joel tossed Carter’s helmet and Carter caught it, making quick work to snap it in place. He yanked his gun off his shoulder and climbed onto the ledge behind the HESCO barrier. Soldiers lined this long wall of the outpost, shooting into the dark night. Spotlights cascaded over the land beyond the walls, trying to locate the enemies.

  “Two fucking days, brothas, and we’re getting attacked. Bull fucking shit!” Mike cussed, positioning the M4 on the wall and taking aim. Henry adjusted his helmet and cast an arm over his eyes as dirt, rocks, and other debris exploded upward from the ground.

  “Nobody’s getting killed tonight,” Carter declared, his words punching the noisy air with resolve. He wasn’t going to let any of his brothers, his men and responsibility, suffer injury so close to their return. He took aim with his AK47, watching for any signs of the hostile enemies. Henry set up next to him with a grenade launcher.

  “Can’t see a damn fucking thing,” Mike barked, settling into position beside him.

  Carter cast him a brief glance before focusing into the dark. “Joel, what’er you getting through those goggles?”

  “Night vision ain’t doing much with all the dust kicking up from these bullets,” Joel yelled over the thundering drone of firearms and explosions. Flashes of firelight brightened the night with its deadly force. The HESCO vibrated as it absorbed bullets.

  “Incoming!” someone boomed.

  Carter barely saw the sparks from the source of the launch. He focused through the scope on his gun, aimed the barrel.

  The explosion hit along the wall close-by, knocking him back. The ledge crumbled beneath him as he grappled for the wall, keeping him from falling.

  “Henry, get down!” Carter demanded, shoving him away from the damaged wall. He ripped the grenade launcher from his man’s hands, set it down, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The explosion was followed by a piercing shriek and Carter growled, “That’s right, fuckhead.”

  The familiar pops of numerous automatic rifles echoed in the distance. Bullets whizzed by, seemingly focused on Carter.

  “Hell, brotha, get down from there!” Joel yelled. Someone grabbed Carter’s ankle and tugged. He shook the hand away, refocused, and pulled the trigger again. “That wall’s crumbling!”

  Through the scope, Carter
watched his target fall in a flash of light-colored fabric. Another round of enemy fire plundered the outpost wall. Dust clouded the immediate air, briefly blocking his scope as he focused on another enemy. Nobody’s getting killed tonight.

  The counterattack rocked the wall with an enemy rocket. Carter pitched back, landing on his side, air fleeing his lungs with the sharp compression. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the sudden burn in his lungs as they demanded oxygen.

  He looked up in time to see three soldiers guarding the wall fall, staining the ground with fresh blood. For the briefest moment, the world slowed. His chest felt as if it would tear open. Mike and Tyler grabbed the resting AK47s and moved to a different post. Joel had his section of the wall, keeping his head low, his finger ready against the trigger of Mike’s M4.

  He caught Henry standing against the damaged wall, and the world came back into real time.

  “Henry, get down!” Carter commanded, air flooding his lungs as he rushed forward. He lunged onto the unsteady ledge and grabbed Henry’s arm, pulling him off the wall. Another explosion sent them both to the ground.

  “Shit! They’re blitzing us!” Joel said, unleashing the triple blasts from his weapon on the intruding forces.

  The attack on the front wall turned chaotic. Soldiers fell. The thunderous booms of rocket launchers, the hair-raising pops of bullets, the haunting shrieks of the COB crumbling under this vicious wave of hostility raised a beast inside Carter. Nobody’s getting killed tonight.

  “Not in my platoon,” he whispered aloud.