“Right, as long as the three of you agree to my terms.”
“Shit,” Dakota mumbled, turning to lean against the wall with his arms folded, his glare solely for Shawn.
Shawn recognized the determined glint in Father Joe’s eyes, wondering how he could have not considered this possibility. “C’mon, man, you can’t mean to blackmail us.”
“Oh, but I can,” Father Joe returned, Shawn recognizing his implacable tone.
Wearing worn jeans and an Arizona Cardinals tee shirt, he didn’t look anything like a priest in his mid-forties, but Shawn knew that look, and he meant what he said. If he wanted his help, Shawn would have to agree to his terms.
“You trusted me enough to come here tonight. All I’m asking is you trust me enough to do right by all of you, not just the little one. Agreed?” His gaze circled to include the three of them.
“What’s to keep us from bolting once we agree?” Clayton asked with a rare touch of belligerence. Most often, he was the easy-going one between them.
“Smarts enough to know when you’ve been handed a second chance, and the grit to make the most of it,” Father Joe challenged in reply.
“Well, hell.”
Clayton flipped Dakota a wry grin then looked at Shawn. “If he’s in, I’m in.”
Shawn ran his hand down the girl’s silky hair, his heart somersaulting over the adoring look she turned up to him. “Okay, Father. If you see she stays safe, we agree. Where are we going?”
“Idaho.”
Chapter One
Twenty years later
“Are you sure, Randy?”
Shawn McDuff took the pen his friend handed over, his gaze skimming the now quiet, empty cavernous room of the private club, Spurs. He recalled the fond memory of a scene with a redheaded submissive when his eyes landed on the St. Andrew’s Cross. He, Clayton, and Dakota had been members since Randy first opened the club over seven years ago. Located just outside of Boise, it sat nestled in a tree-shrouded copse in between Boise and Mountain Bend, the small town they now called home.
“I’m sure. I’ve known you guys long enough to have complete confidence you’ll ensure Spurs keeps the good reputation I’ve worked to build,” Randy replied, his look around the table taking in Shawn, Clayton, and Dakota.
Scrawling his name on the contract to buy the club, Shawn was confident of the asset they were purchasing, but the disillusionment in Randy’s eyes was still hard to see. He couldn’t imagine the heartache of betrayal his friend must feel over his wife’s infidelity and desertion.
“It helps Shawn is a deputy sheriff.” Clayton balanced his chair on the back two legs with ease, his arms crossed, blue eyes lit with humor. “He’ll threaten anyone who gets out of line with jail time.”
Dakota snorted. “Some subs will act up so he’ll do just that.”
“Kathie. That girl lives to get in trouble with the Masters.” Shawn handed the pen to Dakota, thinking of the blonde who was an attention seeker, but harmless. “What are your plans now, Randy?”
Pushing to his feet, Randy said, “I haven’t been out of Idaho in years, and there are several places I’ve always wanted to visit. These will unlock the front and rear doors, and the smaller one goes to the storage closet in the corner.” He tossed down a set of keys and picked up the cashier’s check and signed copy of the sale. “You know how to reach me if you have any problems or questions, but seeing as you’ve been members since the doors opened, I doubt there’s anything you’ll need my help with. Thanks.” He held out his hand, and they each stood to accept his shake.
“Keep in touch.” Shawn released his grip, hoping Randy found the peace of mind he was looking for in his travels.
“Will do. I want to check out the second floor you’re planning on adding. I know several people have asked for private rooms but never thought of taking advantage of the high ceiling space to add an entire floor.” Picking up his Stetson, Randy settled it on his head and walked out without looking back.
“Poor bastard. Just another reason to stay unattached.”
“You don’t need another reason, Clay,” Shawn returned, reaching for his whiskey as he resumed his seat. “Last I heard, the sun rising each morning was enough for you to stay single.”
Clayton shrugged, lowering onto his chair with a thud. “Why settle for one piece of decadent chocolate when I can have the whole box?”
Dakota gave Clayton a derisive glance. “At least I have the excuse of scaring them off. Once they get what they want from me, they can’t scamper away fast enough, which is fine by me.” He reached for the bottle in the center of the table and topped off his glass then passed it over to Shawn.
Shawn capped it and rose to return it to the bar. Unlike his two best friends, he wouldn’t mind finding one woman he could settle down with. But, ever since the three of them had inherited a portion of Buck Cooper’s estate, his dates seemed more interested in learning why he continued working as a deputy sheriff, and with learning exactly how much the wealthy rancher left them. He didn’t waste his time telling them their foster parent had instilled in each of them a strong work ethic, taught them the value of earning their money, and to take pride in what they accomplish.
They had money, enough he could quit his job and work the ranch putting in fewer hours. But he loved the law, got a sense of satisfaction out of enforcing it so others could live in safety. Nothing pissed him off faster than seeing an innocent person suffer from another’s illegal actions.
Shawn grabbed his hat off the bar top
