DuBois Edith - A Bride for Two Renegades [Male Order Texas] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Read online

  Male Order, Texas

  A Bride for Two Renegades

  Forced to give up one quirky trait after another, Male Order native Sherri Winston feels lost in a sea of ordinary. It’s not until one spectacular night spent with the enigmatic Ethan Blacker that she begins to feel herself again. But he’s an agent working abroad for the UN, and the next morning Sherri must watch him go.

  After weeks of pining for what cannot be, Sherri is ready to snap out of it. Little does she expect, however, that hunky film star Benji will roll into town and snatch her heart away. As the two fall in love, Sherri can’t fight the feeling that something is missing.

  It‘s not until Benji and Ethan meet in an explosive, revelatory encounter that Sherri realizes only she has the power to bring her men together. As the stakes grow deadly, will love prevail? Or will past wrongs prove too bitter to overcome?

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

  Length: 43,110 words

  A BRIDE FOR TWO RENEGADES

  Male Order, Texas

  Edith DuBois

  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  A BRIDE FOR TWO RENEGADES

  Copyright © 2011 by Edith DuBois

  E-book ISBN: 1-61034-618-1

  First E-book Publication: June 2011

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2011 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 A Bride for Two Renegades by Edith DuBois 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 Edith DuBois’ livelihood. It’s fair and simple. Please respect Ms. DuBois’ right to earn a living from her work.

  Amanda Hilton, Publisher

  www.SirenPublishing.com

  www.BookStrand.com

  DEDICATION

  For Erika. You got my butt motivated. Plus, you’re the bestest friend a gal could hope for. LYLAS!

  A BRIDE FOR TWO RENEGADES

  Male Order, Texas

  EDITH DUBOIS

  Copyright © 2011

  Chapter One

  Lights flashed. So many damn lights flashed that Benji thought he would lose his way and fall off the path, but then Carlene—his date and one of the stars of the film premiere they attended—gave him a yank in the right direction back onto the red carpet. Stumbling through the corral of bodies and lights, he eventually tripped inside the Million Dollar Theater, his retinas throbbing from the onslaught of cameras just outside the door.

  Luckily, the lights were low, and the color scheme of the grandiose lobby was subdued. The whiskey coursing through Benji’s body didn’t help. It made everything look fuzzy. He reached out to pet the shiny diamonds dangling across Carlene’s chest, fascinated with their shimmer in the soft lighting, but she swatted at his hand.

  “Stop it, Benji. Not in front of everyone.” Her voice, her sharp movements, her canary yellow dress really fucking hurt his head.

  “Get me a drink,” he ordered. He liked to give his dates tasks. It kept them out of his way, and they always did what he said. Carlene was no different. She stomped away, and Benji was momentarily free to find some place away from the crowd. After five minutes of searching, he found a secluded nook close to the staircase and away from the coterie. Less than a minute later, however, his privacy was invaded.

  “Another premiere, eh, Blacker?” Johnny Dale held out his hand for Benji to shake, his bowtie, his British accent, and his glasses immediately grating against Benji’s nerves. “How many does this make for you?”

  Benji stared at the man’s hand for a long moment. “Three.” Benji’s own hands were all jittery. He wanted a cigarette, a drink, anything to keep his mind off the throng of people, the mindless, useless chatter happening all around him, and the pissant in front of him.

  “Shit. Just this week? Thanks for coming out.”

  “Fuck off, Johnny.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Oh, excuse me. Did I not speak clearly? I must have forgotten my plosives. Please. Allow me to reiterate. I said, ‘Fuck. Off. Johnny.’”

  Johnny shook his head. “Man, you need to chill out. I came to say hello. Nothing to get excited about.”

  “Chill out?” Benji laughed. “I think you need to get the fuck out of my face. You’re a joke. This movie is a joke. This whole fucking town is a joke.” Just then, Carlene returned with a whiskey and thrust it into Benji’s hand.

  “Hi, Johnny,” she said, huffing from the struggle of navigating her way through the milling bodies.

  “Carlene,” Johnny said.

  Carlene glanced up at Johnny’s stiff tone and then shot Benji a questioning look. “Everything all right, fellas?”

  “Shut up.” Benji rolled his eyes. “You know? You need to quit butting your nose into people’s shit. It’s starting to really get on my last fucking nerve.” A small part of Benji’s brain realized he was being an ass, but at the moment, he really didn’t give a fuck.

  Carlene frowned but then turned to Johnny with her most brilliant toothpaste-ad smile, annoying Benji more. “Johnny, always nice to see you,” she said.

  Johnny nodded at her.

  Then she turned to Benji, and he could easily distinguish the ire in her features. “And, Benj
i,” she said, her voice low and strained, “I am not dealing with this tonight.”

  “Dealing with what, sugar pie?” Benji didn’t bother keeping the sneer out of his voice.

  Carlene glared and flicked her blond curls over her shoulder. “I’ll find my own ride home.” She turned to walk away, but Benji grabbed her arm.

  “Where do you think you’re going? You came with me. You’re leaving with me.”

  She looked down at Benji’s grip on her elbow. “Let go of me, you drunk bastard.”

  Benji only tightened his grip.

  “Now, Benji. Or, so help me God, I’ll talk to Jimmy.”

  Benji didn’t doubt her words, but the threat taunted him, reminded him of his powerlessness. He released her arm, but as he did, he said, “Your talk is cheap, Carlene, just like everything else you put out.”

  At his words, Johnny shoved past Benji and offered his elbow to Carlene.

  “You’re a cunt,” Johnny said and then took Carlene away.

  “Good fucking riddance,” Benji said to himself, ignoring the rotten taste in his mouth. He tossed the whiskey down his throat, enjoying the burn and then the heat that licked through his veins. It curled in the pit of his stomach and helped him to forget. Not everything. He would never forget everything. But some. He could forget some. Just for the night.

  A few minutes later, the lights dimmed and then rose up again, indicating that only ten minutes remained before the premiere began. Letting the school of people sweep him up as they swam toward the doors, he soon found his seat near the front of the theater. Benji grimaced when he read the place card on the seat next to his. Carlene had traded her seat with Jimmy.

  Dammit, Benji did not want to deal with that man tonight. He’d already drank too much whiskey, and he had at least three more hours to go before the night was over. On top of that, the last man he wanted to sit next to was Jimmy Duren.

  Benji didn’t acknowledge Jimmy as he settled into the red velvet upholstered chair.

  “You’re a wild one tonight, aren’t you, Benji?”

  Benji glared at the man sitting next to him, hating everything about him. He hated his rotund belly and how it spilled over the sides of his chair, protruding oppressively close to Benji. He hated Jimmy’s fat jowls and his trimmed blond mustache and the deep creases in the pink skin that encased overly large features—a too large nose, a too large forehead, a too large mouth. He hated his slicked-back hair, and he hated his deep, oily voice.

  But what Benji hated most about Jimmy Duren was the one thing that Benji could never get away from—Jimmy Duren’s money.

  Just over nine years ago, when Benji turned eighteen, he’d been approached by Jimmy. The big man had introduced himself as one of the co-founders of Duren Brothers. Benji may have been a spoiled and naive prick, but he still knew that Duren was one of the most powerful and respected names in the film and television industry. After introductions and a few drinks, Jimmy had invited Benji to an audition for a reality TV series called The Turnpike.

  What he remembered most about that first meeting with Jimmy wasn’t the way the man casually threw hundred dollar bills at the woman gyrating in front of them. Benji’s father was a rich man, and Benji was used to that sort of casual spending. Hell, Benji had already thrown a couple hundreds onstage himself. No, what really caught Benji’s attention was the way Jimmy spoke, the way he dealt with people. He didn’t say much, but he never failed to say enough.

  Before that meeting, Benji had never imagined a life in the spotlight or that he would ever come across either of the Duren Brothers. After it, however, he had agreed to an audition that would end up linking his life indefinitely with Jimmy’s. Now, sitting next to the fat man, Benji felt all the usual resentments rising up inside him. Almost a decade of his life had been spent under the control of this man, and it chafed. Not a day went by that Benji didn’t regret signing that contract with Duren Brothers giving them exclusive rights to Benji’s acting career.

  The lights dimmed, and Jimmy leaned his bulk closer to Benji, who resisted the urge to lean away. “I’ve got a proposition for you, Benji.”

  Benji snorted but listened.

  “I have a couple nephews, name of Ellis. They live about thirty minutes outside of Dallas. I think you ought to spend some time with them. See a little bit of the countryside.”

  “And why the fuck would I want to see a little bit of the countryside? I work here.”

  “No. Not right now you don’t.”

  Benji gripped his armrests with both hands, wanting to rip the red velvet into a pulp until it dripped through his fingers like blood. “So you’re sending me away.”

  “Don’t worry, Benji. You’ll get your money. We’ll call it ‘research’. For your next role, we’ll say. Just head on down to Male Order within a day or so, and when you think you’re ready for work again, give me a call.”

  Benji spoke low, his voice coming out in a rough whisper. “You won’t always be the one on top. One day you will come crawling to me on your belly, asking for scraps.”

  “That may be so, my dear Benji, but unfortunately for you, that day is not today. Today, I am telling you to get the fuck out of my town.”

  “Your town? Your town?” Benji stifled a wild laugh because the film’s score had begun, and the chatter of the guests around them had begun to dwindle. “What about Tony Reed? Marshall Pierce? David O’Brisner? Any of those men would commit murder to have me under contract with them.”

  “Maybe that’s true. Maybe it isn’t. But you didn’t sign their contract. You signed mine. And now I own you. When I tell you to jump, you jump. When I tell you to sing, you sing. When I tell you to smile, you fucking smile. It’s a really simple thing actually, this arrangement we have.”

  “You think you’re a big man, telling us all what to do, sending people off to God knows fucking where, all the while rubbing your fat, greedy hands together, thinking you have us all wrapped up. You think you own me. No man owns me.”

  Jimmy Duren chuckled, making his big belly jiggle. “Silly boy. I don’t think that I own you. I know I do. Life would be much simpler for you if you could just remember this. Now shut your fucking trap. I’m watching a movie.”

  Chapter Two

  With a flourish, Betty Louise whipped the cape off Sherri’s shoulders, sending a fluttering of hair clippings up into the air and then down to the floor at their feet. Sherri squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to acknowledge the plain brown specks of hair that moved around her. She hadn’t wanted to dye her lilac-colored locks, hadn’t wanted to lose that one last bit of eccentricity, but her summer internship started the next day. It was time for her to be a mature adult, or so she had been told, and after waiting until the last possible second, Sherri finally had to let her beloved hair color go.

  Brandishing a hair-dryer like an extra arm, Betty Louise moved around Sherri, blowing wayward strands of hair from Sherri’s clothes, the older woman’s White Diamonds perfume wafting lazily around Sherri as she worked. Eventually, her motions ceased, and Betty Louise stood in front of Sherri with her hands on her wide hips, her turquoise-shaded lids blinking once or twice before she finally said, “Are you ready to see my fabulous work of art?”

  “I’m so nervous, Betty Louise.” Sherri didn’t want to admit it, but she already felt like crying. And she hadn’t even peeked into the mirror yet. The few other ladies in Luscious, Male Order’s beauty salon, all offered Sherri reassurances that she looked great.

  Aurora, the owner of Luscious, stopped mid-cut on her client to come inspect Betty Louise’s work. She ran her fingers through Sherri’s hair, muttering low sounds of approval. Aurora stepped back and said, “Sherri, honey, you look adorable.” Then she frowned, “No, that’s not right.” She studied Sherri even more intently, and Sherri felt her insides clenching in apprehension. “You look downright gorgeous.”

  “Aww, thank you so much, Miss Aurora.”

  “All right, moment of truth,” Betty Louise said, t
urning Sherri’s chair to face the mirror behind her. Sherri looked at herself for a long moment, and despite earnest attempts to stop it, her chin began to wobble. Then a large teardrop plopped onto her cheek and rolled down until it dripped off her chin.

  She felt like she was looking at a stranger—a plain, uninteresting, unremarkable stranger.

  “Oh, no, no, no, no!” Aurora said, noticing Sherri’s tear. “You know the rules, Sherri Elaine Winston.” She pointed to a sign just above the entrance to Luscious: This is a NO TEARS zone.

  Instead of staunching her tears, the words on the sign just made them fall faster, reminding her how ridiculous the situation was.

  “I’m sorry, Aurora. Betty Louise. I’m so sorry. I love it. I really do.” Someone shoved a Kleenex into Sherri’s hand. “It’s just...I’ve been lilac for so long.” All the ladies suddenly crowded around Sherri, patting her hair, hugging her, telling her not to worry, she looked beautiful. A loud sob broke free, and Sherri felt her cheeks blazing in embarrassment.

  “Oh, honey,” Aurora said, her voice starting to waver. “You know I can’t stand for anyone to cry alone in my presence. Gimme one of those, Betty Louise,” she said, grabbing a Kleenex after a few loud sniffles. “Are you sure you like it? We can do something else if you want. Free of charge.”

  Sherri blew her nose and wiped her cheeks, struggling to regain control. “No, Miss Aurora. I like it.” Looking at herself in the mirror, she forced herself to believe those words. “It’s just a bit of a shock at first. I think I might need a day or two to adjust. That’s all.”