Sweet Southern Betrayal Read online

  She’d taken one look at Teague Elliott’s hazel eyes and realized just what a colossally bad mistake she’d made. He was gorgeous, charming, and sexy as hell. Big Tony hadn’t ordered her to sleep with him. He just wanted compromising photos. The sex-athon was all Risa—she couldn’t help herself when he’d kissed her like a man who’d waited his whole life just to kiss her. And she was so scared and unhappy that when he’d whispered how beautiful she was, lowered the strap off her shoulder and pressed a kiss there, she’d done the unthinkable and given in to the fantasy for one damn night of her life.

  Tony was waiting for her to finish.

  “He was fine. Everything went perfectly.”

  “So hand it over.” He extended his arm, palm up, to take possession of the photos that would give Big Tony power over Teague Elliott.

  Risa paused, her fingers skimming past the envelope of photographs she’d developed from that night, and turned over the thumb drive that held the key to her debt being paid in full. She’d be free from worry, Pepper would be clean, and maybe they could ditch this place and start over in a town where the people were nice, real, and ordinary.

  All she had to do was ruin a nice man’s life.

  A man who’d treated her like a queen, who’d danced with her, laughed with her, and then marched right out of her favorite romance novels and made love to her all night long.

  A man who’d made her feel as though she was his equal.

  To not do it was impossible. She didn’t have ten grand, and the option of sleeping with Tony was something she could not do—ever. With shaking hands she pulled out the slim drive and placed it in Tony’s palm and watched as his fingers closed over it.

  Her future was set.

  He turned to place the drive in his computer, and Risa held her breath, stomach clenching painfully at what would come to life on the monitor. Could she just turn and leave? Would he let her?

  The door behind her opened after a brief, hard knock. She stared at Tony, watching as he spun to face the newest visitor, a scowl on his face at the intrusion.

  “What the fuck do you want, Frank?”

  Risa’s legs were like noodles with relief at the interruption. Thank you, Frank. You slimy little pervy bastard—thank you.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Giambetti. The games control people say there’s a problem with a bank of slot machines, and they insist on talking to you about it.”

  “That’s what I have floor manager for, for fuck’s sake,” Tony barked out as he rose from his chair in an angry huff. He left the thumb drive on the desk and walked past her, and out of the office without a backward glance in her direction with several of his men following in his wake.

  Risa was left alone in the room, the door open. Everyone had filed out into the outer lobby, forgetting she was still there.

  She took one…two…three steps forward until she stood right next to Big Tony’s desk. Ignoring the streetwise girl screaming in her brain to let Teague take care of himself, she reached out, scooped up the thumb drive, and dropped it back in her purse. Choking down the bile rising in her throat, she turned on her three-inch heels and walked out of the office past the half dozen armed-to-the-teeth men who would easily shoot her for what she’d just done.

  Walking down the corridor, she nodded when greeted by the other casino staff, but her mind was already putting her plan in place. She figured she had just enough time to go home, pack a bag, and book the next flight out of town.

  Way out of town.

  She’d disappear for a while and figure out what the hell she was going to do.

  Because when Big Tony figured out what she’d done—he’d kill her.

  Chapter Four

  Teague could admit that when he went back to DC he would miss the Southern Comfort Diner.

  It was early morning in Elliott, but The Comfort was already full of people. As a descendent of the town’s founders, he was obligated by virtue of birth to play the role of gracious host wherever he went. The people were nice; it wasn’t a hardship, but the generations of family ties felt like a noose around his neck. Three weeks until his permanent move back to DC.

  No doubt he would miss Dolly Cantrell’s cherry pie pancakes and the best damn coffee he’d ever tasted. The diner held many good memories for him. Afternoons spent at the long lunch counter drinking milk shakes, sneaking in and raiding the fridge after a night of underage drinking at the Landon’s farm—all those activities done with the men currently sitting in “their” booth.

  Teague slid in beside Lucky Landon, his new brother-in-law, and across from Jackson Cantrell and Dr. Beckett Sutherland, and filled his coffee cup from the pitcher in the middle of the Formica tabletop. He glanced over his shoulder and caught Dolly’s eye and nodded when she made the signal for “I’ll bring your usual” before heading back into the kitchen. When he turned around he fell into the middle of an ongoing discussion among his friends.

  “You called Lucky on his honeymoon?” Jack asked.

  “He called me twice,” Lucky grumbled as he buttered his toast and stopped to point his knife at Beck. “Asshole.”

  “I missed you.” Beck grinned over the rim of his coffee cup.

  “You’re lucky he didn’t kick your ass. He told us not to call him unless the town was fucking burning down and even then to think twice.” Teague smiled up at the waitress who delivered his breakfast. He nudged Lucky with his arm. “You couldn’t wait to get Taylor off to the islands for a couple of weeks. And frankly, as her brother, I was a little grossed out with watching you paw each other all the time so I was glad to see you go.”

  Jack reached out with his fork and snagged a piece of Teague’s cherry pie pancakes before he could stop him. He quickly pulled his hand back when Teague attempted to stab him with his own utensil. Teague would take a bullet for the guy, but the pancakes were off-limits.

  “Beck, a man’s honeymoon is sacred territory. It’s the one time you are expected to keep your woman naked and satisfied 24-7. That shit needs to be respected,” Lucky said as he chugged down some coffee. “Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll jack you up.”

  “Yeah, big talker. You told me if I did it again that ‘I’d be fucking ecstatic that I worked at a trauma center.’” Beck laughed, not even taking a threat of bodily harm seriously. Not for the last time did Teague wonder at the strange makeup of this man. He could be razor-sharp and focused when it came to his work and then acting like a kid the next minute. “I’m still here.”

  “I promised Taylor I wouldn’t do it.”

  “Saved by the blushing bride!” Beck crowed, raising his arms over his head in triumph and drawing the amused glances of several other patrons.

  “So, Teague, you’ll be leaving soon, right? Unless you’ve changed your mind and decided to stay,” Jack asked.

  “Taylor would love for you to stay, but she’d kill me if she knew I’d told you that,” Lucky murmured, avoiding eye contact. “So would your mom.”

  “I’m sorry, but there is no way in hell I’m staying here. I’m almost done cleaning up my father’s mess at the law firm. I’ll close it down and get back to my life.” Teague felt his anger rise when he thought about how his father—strict, rigid, and controlling William Elliott—dumped his wife and his entire life to run away to Costa Rica with his twenty-five-year-old paralegal. “My father might have been dumb enough to throw away a lifetime of hard work, but I’m not letting my life become a casualty of his insanity. I’ve got a plan and it’s executing. I need to be in DC to keep it going.”

  “I respect that, man, I do,” Jack said, his eyes somber. “But will I have to turn in my man card if I tell you it’s been great having the four of us here? Together.”

  “Yeah. What he said.” Beck nodded in agreement. “I get that you want to live at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue one day, but it would be cool if you could stay. This town could use a good attorney, and I’ll need to get a new MMA sparring partner when you leave.”

  “I’ll spar with you,” Jack said.

  “Buddy, you suck at it. Stick to guns.”

  “You’re just pissed because I pin you all the time.”

  “You’re fucking huge. You just sit on me and it’s over,” Beck argued. “That’s not sparring, that’s humiliating.”

  “I could let you win sometime.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Teague laughed as he sipped his coffee and watched the two idiots go at each other. Yes, he would miss this. These guys were his family. They had his back and he could trust them with his life and the lives of those he loved. Not something he would ever have in DC, and he knew it. The friendships there were strong when mutually convenient and broken when they lost their value. He understood what he was giving up, and he’d long ago decided it was worth it.

  “Well, we had good times in Vegas,” he said. “We’ll just have to make sure we get together regularly.” He tipped his head at Jack and Lucky, unable to resist the dig. “When Kayla and Taylor will let you, of course.”

  “Oh, nice.” Jack flipped him the bird as he chuckled. “I can’t wait until you’ve found the woman who makes it easy to be whipped. You have no idea what you’re missing.”

  Beck made a choking sound next to Jack, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Oh my God. Now I’m taking your man card.”

  By mutual agreement, Teague, Lucky, and Jack decided to ignore him.

  “Seriously, we need to plan another trip,” Lucky said. “I missed out on the VIP night out at the Gold Coast.”

  “You’re not complaining, are you?” Teague asked.

  “No way. I’d take a night with your sister hands down. But it sounded like a lot of fun.”

  “Vegas!” Beck drew out his phone and touched the screen, bringing up his pictures. “That place was amazing, and the women were hot and so much fun. Those dancers we met—holy shit they were gorgeous. You’ve got to see them, Lucky.”

  “Yeah, they were.” Teague still had the photo of Risa on his phone, and he looked at it more often than he thought he would. He refused to think about why he didn’t delete it except that he had a great time with her—at least what he remembered. Bits and pieces of that night had slowly come back, but there was a definite gap of a few hours in there. She was sexy and funny, and didn’t take any of his shit. And she was perfect in bed. Open. Passionate. Responsive. Greedy.

  He swore he could still taste her on his lips.

  If he could find a woman who would make the ideal political partner and had the spirit of Risa? He would be one lucky man.

  “Your date, Risa, she was stunning. All that red hair and those green eyes—” Beck continued as he flipped through his pics.

  “Silver,” Teague said.

  “What?”

  “Her eyes had lots of silver in them, too. They weren’t just green.”

  His friends stared at him across the table. Their silence spoke volumes of just what he’d given away with his last statement. Shit.

  Beck broke first. “Well, you’d know since you disappeared with her for most of the night.”

  “Yeah, I need the details on that,” Lucky said.

  “I don’t have time for details, Oprah.” Teague grabbed his stuff as he slid out of the booth. He had a long day in court, work at the office, and dinner with Lucky, Taylor, and his mom later. Time to get the day started.

  “So, wouldn’t you want to go back and see her again? You could get a repeat.”

  Teague considered the question, answering honestly. “She would definitely be worth a repeat.”

  “Sounds promising,” Jack said.

  “No, it sounds like a Vegas weekend booty call. No love connection. No long-distance pining away. We were combustible in the sack. That’s all it was.”

  “Looks like you were pretty combustible out of the sack, too,” Beck said, shoving his phone up at Teague.

  The screen was filled with Risa and him sitting close, looking into each other’s eyes, matching expressions on their faces. The word that jumped into his mind was spellbound—they were oblivious to anyone else around them, completely locked in on each other and doing nothing to hide the lust and longing that had them in its grip.

  He might not remember it all, but he remembered that feeling.

  “Fuck.” The word spilled out of his mouth on a groan that matched the pull in his belly directly connected to his dick. He might have gaps in his memory, but his body knew what it wanted and it was this woman.

  This completely inappropriate woman. A woman who could seriously mess up his plans.

  It was a good thing she was halfway across the country.

  …

  The sign read “Law Offices of William T. Elliott III.”

  Risa stepped back on the busy sidewalk and took a good look at the tall, classically styled brick building, and deeply inhaled, steadying herself and banishing the butterflies fluttering in her belly. She’d had the chance to calm down on the red-eye flight from Vegas to Charlotte, North Carolina and the even longer layover before boarding a puddle-jumper to Roanoke, Virginia, but the minute her high heels hit the brick walkway she felt as if it were her first night on the Vegas stage.

  Elliott, Virginia, was a lovely small town that looked like a movie set, and if what the cabbie had told her on the way over from the airport, Teague was the leading man of the film. His family had founded the town and was old money—older money than the Kennedys—and in these parts his daddy had been the king and Teague the royal prince. A far cry from what she remembered of the man she spent the night with in Vegas.

  Now she regretted the impulse to take this trip and tell him her news in person. Maybe it was something you could tell someone over the phone?

  “Don’t be a wimp, Risa.” She gave herself a mental bitch slap, her voice sounding scared and pinched even to her own ears. “You needed to get out of town and this was the perfect reason.”

  “Can I help you?” The deep male voice beside her should have made her jump, but it didn’t. Instead, every girly part inside of her responded to the low-timbred tones that had haunted her dreams for the past two weeks and left her aching and needy. It was Teague. She didn’t need to turn around to know it was true—but she did.

  “Risa?” He wore almost the exact same expression he’d had in their room in Vegas—stunned, but breathtakingly handsome. His brown hair, shot through with gold highlights, invited her to touch, and his hazel eyes matched the deepening fall colors in the trees. His skin was tan, a little flushed from his shock, but a testament to time spent out of doors and not behind the desk. The suit he wore was dark, expertly cut along his broad shoulders and slim waist—he didn’t buy it off the rack.

  “Hi, Teague.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Would you believe a sightseeing trip?” She tried to play it cool, but the tremor in her voice gave her away and his eyes narrowed with something that looked a lot like suspicion.

  “No.”

  “Something happened.” She stumbled over her words. The speech she’d prepared on the plane vanished from her mind. How was she going to tell him what she’d done for Big Tony on top of the crazier news she carried in an envelope in her purse? It was toss-up as to which one was worse. “I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

  “Are you pregnant?” He edged in closer, his voice pitching lower until it was almost a growl. His face was dark with suspicion and she involuntarily took a step back.

  “What? No!” Oh hell, she was really screwing this up. Maybe it would have been better over the phone because now Teague was in full lawyer mode, firing questions at her like the ones on her favorite TV shows.

  Only it wasn’t nearly as fun when they were directed at you.

  “Are you in trouble with the law? Because I don’t do criminal law—”

  “No, it’s not—” Lie number one.

  “Do you need money?”

  “No. I don’t need money.” Lie number two. He was reaching for his wallet again, a habit that was starting to piss her off. Damn it, there was only one way to do this.

  “We’re married.”

  That shut him up.

  Teague’s skin paled and he swayed a little on his feet. Risa reached out to grab his arm knowing exactly how he felt. She’d arrived home ready to pack her bag and get out of town, convinced that her life couldn’t get any more screwed up. But she was wrong.

  She’d actually slid down the wall into a puddle on the floor when she’d opened the letter from the State of Nevada congratulating her on becoming Mrs. William Teague Elliott IV. And to make it very real, a second envelope from the wedding chapel contained their wedding photos and DVD.

  Big Tony had been determined to fuck up Teague’s life.

  “Married? That can’t be…are you sure?” Teague stopped, his hand in a tight grip on hers, followed by a squeeze. His face morphed into a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Afternoon, Reverend Parker. Mrs. Parker.”

  Risa nodded at the couple as they walked by, noting how the woman sneaked a glance over her shoulder before they entered a bustling diner down the street. The smile stayed plastered on his face and she got the message loud and clear—this wasn’t the place to have the conversation, Teague lived here, and he obviously had a reputation to maintain.

  “Let’s go somewhere more private to discuss this.” He led her over to the door to his law office, and leaned in, speaking to a woman sitting behind a desk. “Jerline, something came up so I’m going home for the day. Why don’t you close up early?”

  “Of course, Mr. Elliott.” The woman peered past him and gave Risa the once-over, the thin line of her mouth telling her she wasn’t sure she liked the woman who was clearly the reason her handsome boss was closing early. “Is there anything you need me to do for you? Any problem you need help with?”

  Risa bit back a laugh at the woman’s words, her tone indicating she thought Risa was the problem. It also implied that her particular brand of assistance could extend to helping to bury the body, if necessary. Tony Giambetti would give his right arm to have an employee as loyal as Jerline.

  “No, thank you. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Good night.”

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