DuBois, Edith - Rugged Salvation [Rugged Savage Valley, Colorado 3] (Siren Publishing M?nage Everlasting) Read online

  Rugged Savage Valley, Colorado 3

  Rugged Salvation

  When James, Jeremiah, and Johnny Greenwood return bearded and exhausted from a month in the woods, they’re looking for nothing but an easygoing night at the local honky-tonk, Catdaddy’s. But in walks country music starlet Marina Andrews, and all bets are off.

  Unfortunately, Marina doesn’t believe in magic or fate, and she especially doesn’t believe in love. Besides, her label is waiting for new material, and her life is so much bigger than some small, tucked-away town in Colorado. Despite these aversions, however, she can’t resist the wild attraction she feels for the scruffy brothers.

  As the Greenwoods get more and more tangled up in Marina’s heart, the idea of what she’s always wanted begins to blur. The longer she stays in Savage Valley, the more her life outside of the mountains begins to crumble.

  Can the Greenwoods show one disenchanted singer just how powerful love can be?

  Genre: Ménage a Trois/Quatre, Paranormal, Shape-shifter

  Length: 70,409 words

  RUGGED SALVATION

  Rugged Savage Valley, Colorado 3

  Edith DuBois

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  MENAGE EVERLASTING

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com

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  A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

  IMPRINT: Ménage Everlasting

  RUGGED SALVATION

  Copyright © 2012 by Edith DuBois

  E-book ISBN: 1-61926-267-3

  First E-book Publication: January 2012

  Cover design by Les Byerley

  All art and logo copyright © 2012 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 Rugged Salvation 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

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  DEDICATION

  To my editor – because you see my story in all its raw nakedness, and instead of screaming in horror and running away, you poke and prod at all the soft, vulnerable bits until it starts to look like something beautiful. Thank you. Always.

  RUGGED SALVATION

  Rugged Savage Valley, Colorado 3

  EDITH DUBOIS

  Copyright © 2012

  Prologue

  Six years ago

  Marina hugged her sister. This was it, the shining moment she’d been working so hard to reach. She smelled the old wood stage beneath her black boots. She basked in the hot light flooding down on her face from the bulbs above. Just behind the curtain, only a small distance away, she could hear the Grand Ole Opry crowd, and they were waiting for her.

  All those people were waiting for her.

  “I can’t do this,” she said, her words muffled by Michelle’s dark waves. “I was stupid for thinking I could. Michelle, I can’t.”

  “Hush. You’re already shining so bright.” Her big sister squeezed tighter. “Just keep on shining, and they’ll love you. They always do.”

  Marina sucked in a deep breath, fighting back the nerves that told her to run away, that told her she would fail. She forced down all her doubts, all the insecurities and screaming voices in her head that said she was born a nothing and would die a nothing.

  The Opry emcee began announcing her name. Michelle gave her one last squeeze and then ran off to stand in the wing. Marina was alone, and it had to be that way.

  A beat began in her earpiece, and on the right count, she started playing. The curtain slowly began to rise. For a moment, all she could see were more lights. She liked it that way. If she saw all those faces at once, she knew she would falter.

  After a couple measures, it was time for her to sing, so Marina opened her mouth and let the notes fall out. The first few notes were thin and a little shaky, but the music started to wash through her. The chords lit her up, moved through her blood, and shook against her insides. She couldn’t deny its power, and she surrendered herself to it.

  Soon she was smiling and moving, taking herself from one side of the stage to the other. She looked in people’s eyes. She let them know that she was here, and they were hers. The whole audience was hers. She could feel their fascination growing with each song that she finished for them. They loved her. She knew it. They loved her, and she loved them. She was intoxicated with it.

  As she slammed out the last chord, her breath came in heaving spurts. She smiled so big her lips hurt, and she blew a kiss into the roar of their applause. Then the curtain fell.

  Michelle ran onto the stage, hugging her before she could even get her guitar off.

  “You are so beautiful, Marina.” She kissed her forehead while Marina laughed with the pure, giddy pleasure of her success. “That was perfect. You were perfect.” They laughed and hugged and stumbled off the stage together.

  When she got to her dressing room a few minutes later, she found she had a guest.

  “Marina Andrews, my pet, my dove, I’m Jeffrey Nolan, A&R, Artist and Repertoire, from Gefrin Records.” He thrust his hand toward her. She noted his fingernails were very shiny. “It’s a pleasure to meet you
.”

  “Did you say Gefrin Records?” Michelle asked from the dressing room doorway.

  Marina had been in a daze. She hadn’t quite recovered from the performance high, but Michelle’s voice brought her back to reality.

  “Oh my god,” she said, her mouth falling open. “What are you doing here? Why are you in my dressing room?”

  “You really are a doll,” Jeffrey said, his nose pinching as he smiled.

  Michelle poked her in the back. “Marina, have some manners.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth. “That sounded awful. I’m so sorry. Please, sit down,” she stuttered. “Have a soda or some jelly beans. Whatever you want.” She rummaged through a couple of the gift baskets she’d received before the show, looking for something suitable to offer.

  But Jeffrey waved her away. “I’m not here for sugary sweets, gosling. I’m here because my boss, Mr. Gefrin, is very interested in you.”

  Marina wiped at the sweat on her brow. She took in Jeffrey’s tailored gray Tom Ford suit, his slicked-back hair, his sharp nose, and his thin lips. He spoke in a fast, slurring way, and she had to fully focus her attention to process everything he said to her. “Miss Andrews. I am here under strict orders to get you on a flight out to Los Angeles. Mr. Gefrin is most anxious to meet you. He wants your signature and your name. He wants to help you make records and go on tours and get music videos on CMT. All in all, he wants to make you the next country music star, and if that sounds agreeable to you, the sooner the better, we say.” Jeffrey laughed, and because she was so nervous, Marina laughed, too.

  She looked to Michelle, unsure of what she should say.

  “Your offer is very generous,” Michelle jumped in, taking the hint, “to say the least. And moving up from an indie to a major label is definitely something we’ve discussed and thought about with regards to Marina’s career. We would like to visit Mr. Gefrin in LA, but only as long as we all understand that at this point in time, that’s all it is—a visit.”

  “Of course, of course, of course.” Jeffrey clapped his hands, making Marina jump. He pulled out a cell phone, dialed a number, and after a moment, said, “Gina, strawberry, call the boss. Tell him we’ve got extra luggage. Then be the sweet darling that I know you are and bring the bubbly.” He kissed the air twice and then snapped his phone closed.

  All of a sudden her dressing room was crowded, so crowded with people she didn’t know that she couldn’t see from one side to the other. Jeffrey had an entourage, and there was the press, and a couple other musicians all stuffed into the tiny space. Someone pressed a glass of champagne into her hand, saying, “Congratulations on the record deal.”

  She tried to shout back that there was no record deal, but the person was gone. Marina looked for her sister, but it seemed she’d also been sucked into the mess. She sniffed at the champagne. She’d never had any before although she’d heard it could be pretty potent if one wasn’t used to it. She was only eighteen, but she thought one glass probably wouldn’t hurt her.

  With a shrug, she took a cautious sip. The bubbles danced down her throat and shimmied in her stomach. She took another sip, giggling at the delightful sensation. A few moments later, her cheeks were warm, but the hotness was not unpleasant. The room was golden, and she floated in its humming loveliness.

  Everything felt good. Just perfect and good.

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  Chapter One

  Present day

  Dear sweet lord. Marina Andrews groaned, trying to pull thoughts through the groggy remnants of her sanity. Somebody make it stop. Somebody make the infernal yapping stop!

  Roy was in the bathroom that connected to her room, barking his head off. She’d begged her sister to let her keep the puppy, but now that her sister was gone, she actually had to feed it and take it out and make sure it didn’t feel neglected or whatever.

  “I want sleep!” she yelled. Now was not the time to give him attention. If she ignored him, he would stop.

  But the yapping grew louder. “Shut up,” she whimpered. “Please.” With a loud groan, she grabbed an extra pillow from beside her and held it tight over her ears.

  Even so, she could still hear the high-pitched, screeching yaps grating across her eardrums. “Oh god, it hurts,” she said under her breath. She hadn’t crawled into bed until around five in the morning. That was after spending hours at Catdaddy’s and then spending more hours carousing around town with the Yeats twins and their special-label sour mash.

  That was what her brain felt like this morning—sour mash.

  Suddenly, everything was quiet.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she whispered into the covers, curling her legs up and burrowing herself deeper in soft, feathery warmth. “I knew you were a good boy.” Her mind had just started to whirl and drift back into a dream where she and Roy were frolicking and rolling down grassy knolls when the most awful and pungent odor smacked her right back into wakefulness.

  “Oh god!” she yelled, throwing the covers off her body. “Roy!” She roared the puppy’s name, flying out of bed and stomping over to the bathroom door.

  When she ripped it open, she couldn’t help taking a few steps back in horror.

  Roy had pooped right in the middle of the tiled floor, but he’d stepped in it, too, and had tracked shit all over the bathroom. There were even some flecks on the shower curtain and on the sink cabinets. Screaming, she picked up the puppy—who in fact was almost full-grown and weighed about thirty pounds—and ran out the bedroom to the front door. Shifting Roy’s weight to one arm and making sure none of his sullied paws touched her, she ripped the door open and then tossed him out. “You’re sick!” she yelled at him and then slammed the door.

  “Aunt Agnes,” she called. After a long moment with no answer, she called for her aunt again. This time she filled her lungs up and let her voice explode through the house. Six years of vocal lessons had taught her how to really project. She would be surprised if the neighbors didn’t hear her, but she didn’t care. She was not cleaning up dog shit.

  She waited another long moment, but still, no one answered. With a scream of frustration she stalked down the hall to her aunt’s room. The bed was empty and made up. “What the fuck?”

  Letting loose a fresh string of obscenities, she stomped into the kitchen. Next to the sink was a note in her aunt’s scrawled handwriting.

  Went to the Ashleys’ early to help set up. See you at two. Don’t be late. Much love, A. Agnes

  Marina stared at the note for a long minute, unable to process what she was reading. Her aunt was gone? There was no one else in the house? She glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was only nine in the morning, and Aunt Agnes had already left for Michelle’s engagement party?

  She would have to clean the shit up by herself?

  Unexpectedly, tears sprung up in her eyes. Why did everyone leave her when she needed them the most?

  She and her sister had arrived in this godforsaken town a couple months ago. Already her sister was engaged, and not to one man. Oh no. Her uptight, overbearing, my-head-is-up-my-butt sister couldn’t settle for one fiancé. She had to have three. And not only that, Marina had seen, she’d actually witnessed, one of her sister’s fiancés morph into a bear. A friggin’ bear!

  It wasn’t possible. It just wasn’t, she kept telling herself. But at the same time, hell! She’d seen it with her own eyes.

  She wiped the tears away, angry that they had even made an appearance. She couldn’t think about stubborn sisters or weird bear fiancés. She grabbed some cleaning supplies, a plastic bag, and some rubber gloves and stomped back into her bedroom. “Oh, god, the smell,” she said to herself, covering her nose with her arm, but she forged ahead, pushing the bathroom door open. She recoiled away from the ghastly sight for a moment, but then she straightened her shoulders and began cleaning.

  About an hour la
ter, after she had scrubbed the bathroom down and washed the shower curtain twice, she started the water for her shower. The muscles in her back were sore from scrubbing. She hadn’t cleaned anything in almost five years, not even her own laundry, and scrubbing the bathroom had felt like hard labor on her soft muscles. As the hot water cascaded over her body, she thought about all the freaky circumstances that had brought her to this dog shit fiasco.

  She had been living with a man named Skyler Fischer. He used to have an apartment a few streets down from her aunt’s, but his boss—the owner of some company in Denver called NormCorp—had basically kicked him out. So Skyler had moved to the Woodland Den the week before, and Marina couldn’t really say that she was too broken up about her new living arrangements. When she’d first met him, he’d seemed sexy and dangerous and mysterious, but that mysteriousness had quickly devolved into coldness, which quickly devolved into overwhelmingly boring nights.

  She shook her head under the water, sending droplets everywhere. A talk with her sister would definitely be occurring that afternoon, whether Michelle wanted it to or not. Despite having discussed the whole three-fiancés issue with her sister a couple weeks before at the local diner, Savage Hunger, there was still a part of Marina’s brain that couldn’t accept the idea of three men sharing one woman.