My Immortal Cowboy (Hell's Cowboys Book 1) Read online

  The D&D had a full house tonight which left him on alert. The smell of booze, sex, and cigars mixed together was a wild concoction, driving his senses into overdrive. With liquor flowing freely, he’d bet the farm a fight would break out at any time. What was it that Clay had branded into his brain? Always expect the unexpected. No doubt he’d be tested tonight.

  Tibbs clasped his shoulder, breaking his thoughts. “Do a shot with me.”

  RC hadn’t had a drink since he began training. What the hell, he deserved a little celebration. “Lead the way, big man.”

  RC followed Tibbs to the bar, while Clay and Kit found a table by the stage. In no time Tibbs was greeted by a lively filly who took their drink orders.

  “Tequila. Two,” Tibbs ordered.

  RC faced the stage, watching a group of men pawing at a dancer and wondered what her story was. Why would any woman put up with that shit?

  “Thanks, darlin’.” Tibbs smiled at the bartender and handed RC a shot of whiskey. “Here’s to nipples.” They clinked glasses. “Without them, tits would be pointless.” Tibbs grinned and threw back the shot, then slammed the glass on the bar. He ordered another round.

  RC choked on Tibbs’ attempt at a toast. “I don’t know where you come up with this shit, man.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  Tibbs leaned against the bar. “Listen, I need to tell you somethin’.” Tibbs was never serious.

  “Clay didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but I feel differently. Tonight is your night, my friend. You’ve made it through the most intensive, ass-kickin’ training anyone has ever had to endure. I won’t lie—we put you through hell.” Tibbs handed him another drink. “So, tonight, you’re an official graduate.” Tibbs lowered his voice and leaned into RC. “Not a Hell’s Cowboy. You have to earn that buckle,” he said. With a shot glass in hand, Tibbs pointed at the dancers. “This is your oasis tonight. Now go get laid!”

  The man was something else. RC turned back to the bartender and motioned for another drink. As he waited, he wondered when the Cowboys were going to acknowledge his accomplishment. Not that he wanted to make a big deal out of it. A few nice words would have suited him just fine. Two years was a long time to have your ass rode hard, but now he was ready for the next step.

  The lights dimmed and the DJ tapped the mic. The crowd grew quiet as he introduced the next dancer. “Are y’all on your best behavior?” The crowd roared. “There’s a new sheriff in town and she’s kickin’ ass and takin’ names! Are you ready for some shimmy shakin’, Texxxasss!”

  A man next to RC bumped his arm in a drunken attempt to clap his hands, spilling his drink. “Hey, watch it.” He pushed back.

  “Dang, man, you gots to see this.” The man pointed to the stage, then cupped his hand around his mouth and hollered.

  Pissed at his now wet sleeve, RC turned around, glancing at the stage. He lost his breath and his heart banged against his ribcage as the feisty dancer took the stage with water pistols, taming the howling and snapping wolves at her heels. Hot damn! Shotgun Sally!

  His gaze traveled down her body and locked onto her hips as they swayed and pulled him in like some kind of voodoo spell. Something in the air drew him to her and he needed a closer look.

  Finishing what was left of his drink, he left the bar and made his way to the stage. He shouldered past the dense crowd until he reached a better view. This woman was something else; her body lit up the stage. Long lean legs, full breasts, and an ass shake that knocked him over. He couldn’t take his eyes off her; she mesmerized him body and soul.

  A trail of sweat ran down his cheek as his attention was drawn to her tits, bouncing from the top of her vest. He wanted to plant his face between them and squeeze them tight. Holy hell, the things he wanted to do to her. His cock strained against his Wranglers just thinking about her. What the fuck, RC, get it together.

  Stalking the dancer like she was prey, he crept in closer, until nothing stood between him and the seductive sheriff. She wrapped her hands around the pole…good God, she licked her lips and he about fell to the floor. Fuck me! Two years is too long without sex.

  It was bad enough that the sheriff costume piqued his interest, but the black lace mask really stirred him up. There was something erotic about not seeing her face. She flipped her hair and dipped down. Christ! His temperature rose to another level and he swore he heard the angels singing. He watched her slowly unbutton her top and all he could think about was how he wanted her to cuff him. He’d been a very bad boy.

  The music slowed and so did Texas. RC sucked in a breath, anticipating her next move. Texas sensually turned away from the crowd and then looked over her shoulder, biting her bottom lip and teasing the boys in the front row. Her captivating grin sent a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. Fuck! She slid her hands down her body, then slowly bent over.

  Suddenly the music picked up again and Texas ripped off her shorts, shaking that tiny ass. Hellfire! His pupils dilated, feeling his vampire side honing in on her finest asset, ready to claim it, until a freckle on her left cheek tamed the urge. He did a double take. What the hell? He knew that ass!

  The hair on the back of his neck bristled. A cloud of crimson fogged his vision. His ears rang. Everything around him swirled in slow motion like a funnel cloud. What the fuck was Charlee doing here? Naked?

  It took him a few minutes to regain what control he had left. If he acted now, he’d snap. He’d run right up on stage, throw Charlee over his shoulder, and put some clothes on her after he tanned her hide. This wasn’t her. His jaw ticked as he thought about how deeply she could be involved in this lifestyle. Charlee was a good girl. No…no…no. He shook his head, refusing to go there.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder. “Can I get you something, sugar?” a cocktail waitress asked, licking her red lips.

  “Yes,” he said before he could stop himself. But the truth was he did indeed want something—a blonde wearing a black Stetson and stilettos. His heart took a nosedive straight into his stomach when reality hit him. Charlee thought he was dead; she’d freak if she saw him. And why wasn’t Charlee away at college? Did Gran know what she was up to? The stars were not aligned here.

  “I want her.” He pointed to the stage.

  “You mean Texas?” She looked at the stage. “You want a lap dance?”

  “Yeah.” He slipped her a five-hundred-dollar bill.

  The waitress tucked it inside her low-cut vest. “I’ll try my best, darlin’. But Texas doesn’t do private dances.”

  “She does now.” RC slipped her another five hundred. “I’ll be waiting upstairs.”

  The waitress shrugged. “It’s your money.”

  He wouldn’t take no for an answer. “You make damn sure to tell Texas not to keep me waiting.”

  5

  “What?” Charlee buttoned up her vest.

  “That’s what he said.” The waitress handed her the money.

  “And you told him I don’t do lap dances?”

  “Yes. With this kind of money being thrown around, he’s not going to take no for an answer.”

  Charlee slipped back into her shorts. With bills piling up, a thousand dollars was a lot to give up. She’d never been offered that kind of money for a lap dance.

  “If it helps, the cowboy is drop dead sexy. Seriously, he’s the type you’ll want to be naughty with.” The waitress winked.

  Charlee rolled her eyes. A part of her was intrigued. She stood with her hands on her hips, skimming through the reasons not to give in. It was against her rules, yet she was curious. He wasn’t a regular, because they all knew she was off limits. The cowboy was demanding and obviously rich. If he was willing to throw his money around, perhaps she should be willing to take it. She needed a rich man to take away all her troubles. Bathe her in designer clothes and diamonds. Make the mortgage payments on the ranch. Pay off Gran’s medical bills. She laughed. Oh, who was she fooling? The cowboy wanted a piece of ass. She wasn’t the pretty princess,
and Prince Charming didn’t hang out at titty bars.

  She fisted the bills in her hand. “Which booth did he say he’d be in?”

  The waitress grinned. “Second booth in V.I.P.”

  Charlee put her Stetson on. Curiosity was a bitch. She had to see this cowboy. “Thanks.”

  She sashayed up the stairs to the V.I.P. level where it opened to a loft. Couches sectioned off small gathering areas where men and women sat drinking and flirting. A strange electricity tinged with sex, sweat, and alcohol lingered. Cold air prickled her skin as she made her way to the private rooms. She glanced at a couple in the corner, making out hot and heavy. The woman leaned her head back while the man kissed up and down her neck and fondled her breasts. The man lifted his head and smirked wickedly at her. She blushed from being caught gawking, and was hit with surprise when he motioned for her to join in. Quickly, she averted her gaze and picked up the pace, hightailing it out of his sight. God, she hated coming up here. Hungry eyes looked at her from all directions, undressing her straight through to her soul. She felt like a little lamb being thrown to the lions. Fortunately for her, in the last two years, she’d only visited this area a handful of times.

  “T, what are you doing up here?” A tall well-built man stood from a comfy corner chair.

  Charlee knew that deep tone and relaxed. Thank God it was Vin. “Hey.” She stopped and hugged him.

  “It’s not like you to be up in V.I.P. What’s going on?” Vin was Val’s twin brother and the more approachable one. From day one they’d connected and he quickly became the big brother she’d never had. He protected her, and she trusted him with her life.

  “I’m fine.”

  Vin folded his arms across his chest and eyed her up and down suspiciously.

  “Just need to make some extra cash. That’s all.” She shrugged her shoulders.

  “Is the guy a regular?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but probably not.”

  “I got your back, T.” Vin’s smile was all she needed to calm her rattled nerves, and added to that was the fact that he was packing and carried a big fuck-off stick.

  A few seconds later she was standing outside the booth where she knew the cowboy waited. Was she actually going to go through with it? Do a lap dance? Blowing out a breath, she made sure her mask was secure.

  She pushed open the curtains, then stepped inside. Her heart jumped. This wasn’t what she had expected. She was caught off guard by the sexy cowboy sitting leisurely with his legs wide open and his arms resting over the back of the booth; the room reeked of raw male testosterone.

  His face was shadowed under the brim of his black cowboy hat, except for his closely-shaven jaw. Her gaze moved to the crisp, white button down, then to his silver belt buckle and crotch-hugging Wranglers, which she had to admit, showcased his…package quite nicely.

  “What took you so long?” he asked.

  Charlee couldn’t miss the full lips that were apparently talking to her. Sweat beaded on her forehead. When did it get so hot?

  She cleared her throat. “I-I wasn’t sure I should come.”

  “Well, I’m glad you did.”

  There was a hidden demand to his deep, rich tone that made her heart pound. And the tingle between her legs… No one did that to her. Only RC, and he was gone forever. “Why did you demand to see me? There’s plenty of girls around here willing to give you what you want.”

  “I chose you.”

  For some reason, hearing him say that made her go weak in the knees.

  The cowboy shifted in his seat and leaned forward. “You’re not willing?”

  “No. I don’t give lap dances.” Charlee placed her hands on her hips, ready for the cowboy’s temper to catch up to his libido. It always did. Every cowboy she’d ever known had one and he’d show his eventually.

  “Is that so, sheriff?”

  Charlee eyed him from his hat to his boots. “Looks like we have a problem.”

  A wicked grin spread across his lips. “Are you scared? I don’t bite. Hard.”

  “Scared?” She smirked. “No. And you’ll never know how it feels to bite me because this conversation is over.” She turned to leave.

  “Well, darlin’, if you can’t handle being with a real cowboy—”

  She didn’t like being called a coward. Even though he hadn’t said it directly, she knew what he meant. Striding back to his chair, she placed her stilettoed foot between his legs, ready to stomp his balls. She tipped his chin upward to get a good look at his face, but his hat still shielded her view. “Darlin’,” she mocked. “I can handle anything that comes my way, even a cocky sonofabitch like yourself.”

  When he smiled, Charlee did a double take. She knew that dimple. “Take off your hat.”

  “Oh, you won’t give me a lap dance, yet you want me to take off my hat.” He ducked out of reach as she went for his Stetson.

  Before she had a chance to try again, he scooped her into his lap. Involuntarily straddling him, she pushed on his chest to get away. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll scream. Vin is right outside.”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. If you promise to put down your guns, I’ll let you go.”

  She agreed and he let go of her hips.

  His hands sliding up her thighs should have been reason enough to make her call for Vin, but his touch was familiar—almost comforting. He continued to caress her arms, then lightly touched her neck, stopping at her cheek. She closed her eyes, nuzzling into his hand as he cupped her face. Yes, she knew that touch. Craved it every day. Each tender stroke left her wanting more.

  When he removed her mask she gasped, feeling helpless.

  “By God, Charlee girl, I’ve missed you.” Then he revealed his own face, dropping his hat on the table.

  Surprised that he knew her name, Charlee met his gaze. That face… Those eyes… His cocky expression… All too real. Her heart ached from the memories. The pain of losing him.

  “No, no, no.” She bolted off his lap and backed away until she hit the wall behind her. “I went to your funeral. This isn’t possible.” She closed her eyes. What the fuck was going on? Was she dreaming? Going crazy? If she opened her eyes would the cowboy still be there? A dead ringer for RC … a freak of nature, nothing more. Didn’t experts say everyone had a twin in the world?

  “Charlee, I can explain everything. You have to trust me.”

  Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Their gazes locked as he stood and approached with his hands raised in surrender.

  “I won’t hurt you,” he said tenderly, standing in front of her.

  “You can’t be alive.” Tears streamed down her face. “You just can’t…”

  “Darlin’.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “I’m flesh and bone.”

  The pain on his face told her the truth. This was no stranger.

  She felt his steady heartbeat and the heat radiating off his muscular body. Confusion, shock, and relief collided inside her as adrenaline took over. For a moment she stared at him like he was a ghost, waiting for him to disappear. It didn’t make sense. But…

  Anger took over. She made a fist and slugged him in the face. RC stumbled back. “How dare you die on me, Russel Cage!” She pounded his chest relentlessly, letting out all the rage and pain that had built up inside. “You left me!” His refusal to react made her angrier. “Say something!”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Nice right hook, woman.”

  A moment of silence passed between them and then she chuckled, palming the tears away. “Is it really you, RC?”

  She looked up at him, needing to be certain.

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded, accepting what she still couldn’t explain and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on tight. She’d never let him go again.

  “I’ll explain everything once—”

  Rapid gunfire rang out as two men rushed into the room. RC pulled her to a corner behind the booth. “What’s going on?”

  “Stay down!�
�

  Charlee huddled into a ball, covering her ears while RC fired back, hitting one of the gunmen.

  RC motioned for Charlee to stay quiet as the remaining attacker approached the booth, broken glass crunching beneath his feet. Her heart raced as RC shot up from behind the bench and fired.

  RC crept out, pointing his semi-automatic left, then right—all was clear. Booting one of the dead lying on the floor, RC examined the bastard.

  Charlee staggered to her feet, taking in the destruction of the room. What was going on?

  Walking through the wreckage, she froze in horror. One of the men was not dead; he lay on the ground with his gun pointed at RC’s back. She had to do something fast before he pulled the trigger. Frantically she looked around for a weapon, something to throw the shooter off. She couldn’t lose RC again.

  Something silver under a nearby cushion caught her attention. She grabbed the gun and without hesitation, aimed it at the man about to pull the trigger.

  One thing Gran had taught her growing up; never aim a loaded weapon unless you’re willing to shoot.

  “What the fuck!” RC ducked when the bullet left the chamber.

  The attacker hit the floor with a hole in the forehead.

  “Hot damn. I need to get me one of those!” A cowboy with a straw hat entered, eyeing her up and down.

  She pointed the gun at him. “Don’t move.”

  “Sure thing, sheriff.” The bastard stood with his hands in the air. “I surrender.”

  “Charlee, put the gun down.” RC strode to Charlee. She’d just saved his ass.

  He took the pistol from her trembling hands, then wrapped his arms around her. “Are you all right?”

  “He was going to shoot you, RC.”