This is a romance that contains sexual scenes. It that offends anyone's sensibilities I advise you to find another story to read. It might not begin very explicit but future chapters certainly will. For those who do read it, thank you and your comments are always welcome. I hope you will enjoy.
The Dirty Spur was your typical small town western bar. It was crowded with drinking cowboys and plenty of short-skirted, tank- topped buckle bunny types. The air was heavy with cigarette smoke, the smell of stale cooking grease and pheromones. To Jack, it was the first sight of home. Home, he sighed, taking everything in. It was a humbling thought for a man who just spent the last fifteen years of his life in a federal penitentiary.
They didn't take things like murder lightly these days and good behavior with some of the men that he'd served with was just asking too much of a single human being, or at least one that wants to survive. Jack closed his eyes, fighting back all the memories he'd rather have stayed back at Fairfield in the eight by eight cement cell. Yeah, fifteen years on the inside does something to a man.
Music blared, pool balls clinked on their respective tables, hoots and hollers randomly screeched over the thrall of milling people. A mechanical bull whined in the back coroner entertaining, what Jack thought had to be some tourists, they were wearing ridiculous cowpoke outfits, probably just passing through town on their way to a rodeo somewhere he thought.
No familiar faces grabbed his attention, which could be a good thing considering, he guessed. Most people aren't too friendly with a cold blooded murder, especially a convicted cold blooded murder. No matter that the man convicted was innocent. Damn them to Hell. Fifteen years' worth.
He could still see the blood staining his hands, the coppery smell in his nostrils, it was something he'd never forget. He'd been at a party, a barbeque really, celebrating his neighbor Clark Biggs, success at being elected mayor. Everyone from Mason had been at the Forbidden Springs Ranch, that night. He had sat with his Mama and Cole at a picnic table decorated in Fourth of July red, white and blue. The younger boys, twins, Jason and Trey, had jumped out of the truck and joined some of their friends from school. Rush was a baby of three, and Aunt Grace had stayed back at the ranch with him and Jack's Grandma. His grandma had Alzheimer's and couldn't be left by herself.
Most of the time she didn't even know who she was, much less who his Mama and Aunt Grace were. Rush had been just getting over a stomach virus, so Aunt Grace had told his Mama that she didn't mind watching him for a little while. Truth was Aunt Grace always spoiled him and his brothers to death. It was the saddest thing, Aunt Grace was one of the nicest, most motherly people Jack had ever met, but she was never blessed with any babies of her own to spoil.
Jack had just turned 21 the week before, and was planning to take full advantage of the legal consumption of booze. His best friends, Ethan York and Cody Harper were supposed to meet up with him and Cole who was just ten months younger, to go to Clare Biggs, the newly appoint mayor's only daughter's party out at the old saw mill. Mama had been fine with it, saying she could use the peace and quiet of the trip back to the ranch.
Jack could understand that, Quincy Mackenzie was a right out and out bastard. Jack couldn't count the number of times he'd have to pull the fucker off his Mama. Quincy had put her in the hospital just as many times. Not only that but he wouldn't let his Mama rest in between babies, Jack had four brothers, but his Mama had suffered ten miscarriages. The Bastard wouldn't stop beating her even though she was pregnant. Still there was ten months separating Jack and Cole. There was nine months between Cole and the twins. Rush really was the baby with twelve years separating him from Jack.
Before Ethan and Cody found Jack and Cole, True Prescott, Jack's high school sweetheart and girlfriend had come running up to him. Said she had something to tell him. Judging from the worried look on her face Jack knew it wasn't something he was going to like. True had asked him to meet her upstairs in Claire's bedroom before he went with the others to the mill. That was the last clear memory Jack had of that night, well until he had woken up next to the bled out body of Krista Parker.
Before he could even wake enough to make sense of what he was seeing someone broke the door to the room down and a whole group of people came rushing in. They'd found him lying butt-ass naked, covered in Krista's blood. Krista's throat had been cut so deep that she'd almost been decapitated. They'd found scratch marks all along Jack's body, which correlated with the DNA they'd found under Krista's fingernails. Plenty of witnesses, a hunting knife with his prints and no evidence to say otherwise, they had sentenced him to twenty five years jail time, fifteen years for parole for good behavior. It had been an open and shut case.
No one had thought to test Jack's blood for drugs. No one had thought to take his statement of what he remembered for anything but a lie. No one thought to ask the person who had been sending him letters, these last fifteen years, protesting his innocence and claim that there was proof to the Jack's innocence. It was simply to the Police Officers, the lawyers, the jury and the newspapers. A murder had occurred at a newly elected politicians home, his daughter's own bed none the less. No one had wanted to open a can a worms of that size.
The high pitch giggles of a group of girls at a table close to him snapped Jack back to the present. Jack was a little over six-two, and close to two hundred-fifty pounds of pure muscles. So the crowded bar didn't really hinder him from slowly making his way to the bar. The bartender was a young woman maybe mid twenties, tall, slender and definitely overworked. Her face, though haggard and pale, was round with soft cheeks, full lips, and the deepest blue eyes Jack had ever seen.
Her dark brown hair was piled high on her head with a silver and turquoise clip, except for the strands that hugged her left cheek. Jack didn't even want to think about how that hair would feel grasped in his hands, while he gave the girl what would probably be the roughest fuck of her life. He could just see the lust scream out of her ocean blue eyes, and he could hear the moans and whimpers of ecstasy mumble from her cock-sucking swelled lips.
As he saw those lips move, he watched her adjust her bra straps, which just drew his attention to the non- existent neck line where two of the hottest round swells a man could dream of lay practically open for view, at least where he was standing. It caused his dick to surge three times its normal size, throbbing and on fire. Oh god. He was in trouble. Jack was so absorbed in his fantasy and fighting the urge to cum in his pants, that he didn't hear what she was saying until she was screaming at him. Oh God.
"Hey Mackenzie, I don't have all night, order something already or get lost." That seemed to snap him back to reality. "Water, please." With a huff the girl slammed down what he hoped to be a clean glass and started pouring a rich brown liquid into it from a bottle she'd pulled from beneath the bar. "Yeah right, water. You know Rush is floating around here somewhere, he never mentioned that you where home."
It took a minute for Jack to understand what she was saying, he was trying to figure out why Rush, His baby brother would know that he was here. It had been fifteen years since he'd seen the boy, the only family that came to visit had been Cole, and Ethan York . Everyone else in the family had disowned him the second the judge's gavel fell.
