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  BRONCO’S ROUGH RIDE

  What happens in Vegas, stays in the heart...

  Chief Petty Officer John "Bronco" Andrews only meant to stay one night in Vegas for a little R&R before resuming his duties as a US Navy SEAL in Coronado. But someone slips him a mickey in the bar and he finds himself in Madame LeBeau's sex trade. As the product. Doped up on ketamine to keep him docile, Bronco has no choice but to let it ride.

  Detective Lindsey Jarvis has been undercover in LeBeau's sex slave racket for two years and she almost has enough evidence to take it down. Between abduction, prostitution, and murder, she has LeBeau by the short hairs. All she needs is a "product". John is the perfect witness if she can get him out before the drugs shut down his heart. Then she'll be free to start a normal life.

  Lindsey doesn't count on her overwhelming attraction for Bronco or her need to see him through detox. But she's a cop in Vegas and he's a Navy SEAL, two lifestyles with too much unpredictability to maintain a relationship. Neither have time for more than one wild rough ride, and what happens in Vegas, stays. Forever.

  BRONCO’S ROUGH RIDE

  Bad Boys of Beta Squad, Book 0.5

  Copyright © 2014 Siobhan Muir

  ISBN 978-1-31045142-3

  Published by Three Lakes Books at Smashwords

  Cover Photo: Stryjek | Dreamstime.com

  Cover Design: H.L. Carmichael

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author except for brief quotations embedded in critical articles or reviews. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First Electronic Print, March 2014

  DEDICATION

  Dedicated to all the men and woman who serve in our law enforcement. Thank you for your service. You see the worst of the world and you still try to make a difference.

  Acknowledgements

  Writing a book is never really a one person job. In fact, it takes a great deal of hard work and research on the part of the author to get things correct. And part of that research is talking to people and letting them tell you when you got things wrong. Great thanks go to Silver James who caught my military and police force mistakes, and some of my typos. Thanks to Charley Descoteaux for reading through this tale and finding the logical sticky spots. Thanks to Karla Doyle for being my official Typo Sniper, and reminding me to stop grimacing. Hey, I do that a lot, Karla! And as always, thanks to Cara Michaels for designing the most glorious cover art.

  Chapter One

  Chief Petty Officer John “Bronco” Andrews grinned at the waitresses in the tiny skirts as they sauntered past him. Las Vegas was known for its skimpy costumes on the serving staff, even at this off-Strip casino where he’d found a cheap room. He appreciated the display of feminine flesh as he sipped his beer. Too bad his new duty station wasn’t located in Vegas. Of course, the SEALs would never get anything done. They’d be too damn distracted. That, and Vegas is in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Stupid place to put a naval station.

  He appreciated the travel stop, though, and allowed himself to ogle if not touch. He’d already driven damn near twenty-five hundred miles on his way to Coronado to join Team 9, Bravo Squad, and he just wanted a few hours to enjoy the lack of motion. With only three hundred miles left in his drive and a little less than two weeks left for leave, he could afford to take a break. No one expected him at Coronado until the Monday before Independence Day.

  An elegant woman with glossy black hair and Asian features leaned against the bar beside John and waved at the bartender. John scanned her sensual lines and the retro silk stockings with the lines up her leg. Damn, that’s sexy. His cock stirred at the thought of where those lines led.

  The woman glanced his way and offered him courteous but reserved smile. He nodded and let go of his beer to salute her as the female bartender passed him, knocking over his bottle.

  “Oh, jeez! I’m sorry.” Chagrin pulled at the corners of her mouth beneath pock-marked cheeks. “I’m so clumsy tonight. Let me get you a fresh one on the house.”

  “That’s okay. I was almost done and I have only time for one, anyway.” He waved her away.

  “I insist. It’s my mistake after all.” She reached under the counter for another bottle. “Or are you headed out tonight?” She paused and bit her lower lip, her expression troubled.

  “No, I’m here for the night.”

  “Of course, he is.” The Asian woman purred as she leaned closer. “I can make your stay even better.”

  Hooker alert. He eyed her lovely attributes swathed in demure red silk and gave her his best non-committal smile.

  “Well, honey, that’s a mighty fine offer, but I’m just a poor military boy, and your kind of company, while appreciated, might be a bit much for me.” His hand closed around the new glass of beer the bartender handed to him. He raised his eyebrows and she shrugged with a grimace.

  “Sorry, old habits of pouring out the bottle.”

  “It’s fine. It’s got a decent head on it.”

  “I give great head.” The hooker winked as he drank his beer.

  John laughed. “I bet you do, honey. But I still think you should find someone who’d truly appreciate your talents.”

  She cozied up to him with a knowing smirk. “I bet I could make you appreciate it. Come on. On the house.”

  That was his first clue something had shifted toward FUBAR. The scents of the beer and her bubblegum perfume overwhelmed his nose and his head swam as if he’d downed a fifth of tequila. She pulled him toward her as he swayed, but he locked his spine and pushed away from the bar.

  “I gotta hit the head. Be right back, ladies.” Something’s fuckin’ wrong. He staggered toward the bathrooms at the back of the bar, keeping his focus on a still point to make it. He shoved open the door and gripped the edge of one of the stalls, the room spinning.

  “Fuck.” Gotta make it to the toilet and throw up. Had they slipped something into his beer? He shook his head, but stopped when the world shifted dangerously, and he dropped to his hands and knees.

  Disinfectant and old piss hit his nose and he gagged. Anything to make him to vomit the contents of his stomach. Yeah, he’d lose his dinner, but hopefully it’d clear out whatever was causing his disorientation.

  Unfortunately, the world spun again and he lost his fight with gravity, slamming his head against the stall wall. His arms buckled and he crashed to the tile floor, his sight graying at the edges. Can’t succumb. Gotta make it come up… John tried to get up, but none of his muscles responded to his brain signals. His ears started to ring as someone appeared in the last vestiges of his view. The Asian hooker leaned over him with a sympathetic expression.

  “Poor baby. You don’t know what hit you, do you?” She pulled a syringe out of her clutch purse and squirted some of the liquid out the needle. “Don’t worry. You’ll find o
ut soon enough.” An ugly smirk settled on her lips as she jabbed the needle into his bicep. “You’ll pay for all the shitty things you’ve ever done to women.”

  What the hell is she talking about?

  “It’s too bad you didn’t take me up on my offer to give you head. You’d have at least gotten a little pleasure before we knocked you out.” She shrugged as his vision dimmed. “Nighty-night, sweetheart.”

  ****

  John woke to find himself tied to a bed tilted to give him a view of the door. Or to give someone else a view of him. A thick strap wrapped around his chest holding him upright. He tried to jerk free, but his body wouldn’t respond. At all. What the fuck?

  As a highly decorated and experienced SEAL operator, John had honed his body into an efficient and responsive killing machine. But that same body now lay against the table as inert as rag doll. His mind screamed at it to move, to roll, hell, to even wiggle its toes, but the messages went nowhere. He wanted to turn his head, to scan the room around him, but his neck refused to respond.

  John inhaled to roar, to scream for someone to help. His lungs expanded and his chest rose, but the muscles of his throat wouldn’t tighten to make sound, and the air slid out his nose. Holy shit, what’s wrong with me?

  Panic built in his chest, increasing his heartbeat and tightening his gut. His limbs refused to move and a gut-felt moan issued from his chest. Dial it back, Andrews. There’s gotta be a way outta this. It’s just not clear yet. The pep talk dampened the fear and allowed him to focus on external sensory data. He couldn’t feel much, but the grayness had left his vision.

  The room, while dim and small, smelled of dusty concrete, and the only sound inside was his breath. Probably not more than ten by ten feet. From what he could see the only portal in the room consisted of a steel door with a barred window roughly a foot on each side. The concrete dampened any sound coming from outside and heightened the sounds of his breathing.

  Some sort of cell. He rolled his eyes. Ya think, genius?

  The door rattled and muffled voices came from outside. Keys jingled just before the scrape of the lock turning heralded the motion of the door. John slitted his eyes as two women came in, both dressed in casual elegance. The taller, younger-looking of the two grabbed his attention immediately as she scanned the room with implacable serenity. Dark hair woven into an intricate pattern lay on the top of her head and his hands itched to pull it down. Her pale-gray eyes slid over his form and his cock rose in response to her causal perusal.

  What the fuck? That works, but the rest of me doesn’t?

  “I’m so glad you finally accepted my invitation to visit, Lady Aislynn. As I said before, it’s a great honor to have you here.” The older woman’s voice held admiration bordering on reverence and a smug smile curled her thin lips.

  “I was intrigued by the rumors I’d heard of you changing your marketing strategies.” Lady Aislynn paused beside the angled bed and her mouth tightened as her gaze returned to John. “How will you increase outreach?”

  “Like you, we have a very specialized clientele, so the more traditional advertising avenues are closed to us.” The other woman straightened her spine and strode to John’s other side. “But we have our chat and email groups through discreet channels. Of course, word of mouth is the best advertising out there.”

  Aislynn nodded. “And who is this?”

  “This is one of our latest acquisitions.”

  “Acquisitions?” She raised an elegant eyebrow. “You don’t appreciate the male of the species?”

  “On the contrary. I highly appreciate them.” The older woman leaned close, the cloying scent of her perfume swamping John’s nose. “Especially when they’re docile and immobile. The best man is bound and silent, am I right?”

  Aislynn grunted a non-committal sound and studied John’s eyes. She raised a hand and stroked him from his shoulder to his hip. A fresh scent—like flowers and spring—reminded him of Washington DC. Cherry trees in bloom. Yeah, that’s it. Cherry blossoms. The flowery smell pushed out the cloying perfume and sent blood shooting to his cock. Her touches don’t hurt, either.

  “He’s remarkably responsive for being so docile. What have you given him?”

  “Ketamine. It allows the genitals to be useful while disengaging the more annoying traits of males—their mouths and their strength.” The perfume intruded again and his arousal ebbed. “I see he responds to you pretty well. A hard man is good to find, eh?”

  Fury ignited in John’s chest and he clenched his hands into fists. Except his hands wouldn’t respond and his shoulders lay dormant against the slab. You sick bitch. When I get out of this I’ll kill you. Unfortunately, she’d stated the problem accurately. He lay powerless against her manipulations. For all his strength and training, he’d become one of the weak he’d worked to defend.

  Aislynn met his gaze and a flash of emotion broke her serene façade. Anger and disgust burned in her smoky eyes before sorrow crowded them out. The power of her emotion flooded over him and made him wish he could comfort her in the most primal way possible. He strained against his bonds, but his body lay inert. Only his cock rose in salute to the beautiful woman offering him pity.

  Aislynn straightened and a distant smile curled her lips, but her eyes showed nothing. Despite the emptiness, his cock flexed and ached for her touch. When she moved away, he mentally whined with distress, wanting to follow her. What the hell’s wrong with me? This is no time for tears or whining. What happened to my training?

  “He has dog tags, which means he’s military. How will you keep them from looking for him, Madame LeBeau?” Aislynn retreated to the door, gesturing for the other woman to open it.

  The older woman cackled. “By the time they come looking, it won’t matter. Our products have a limited shelf life, if you will. An unfortunate side effect of the ketamine. And our clientele don’t care who he is or wish to end their business of having such men.” She tilted her head to look at the tags. “Besides, I think there’s something ultimately satisfying knowing you have a soldier to play with and he can do nothing. He’ll be enjoyed for his attributes and discarded.” Her smile turned ugly. “He has a decent sized cock, don’t you think?”

  “Such a waste, really. I prefer my males dominated by choice, not by drug.” Aislynn sent John one more look of sorrow before following LeBeau out of the cell. “Do you have many customers for this sort of thing?”

  “More than you’d believe.” Madame LeBeau’s smile turned avaricious. “So, can I count on you for an endorsement or sponsorship this year?”

  John missed Lady Aislynn’s response as the door closed behind the women and only his raging hard-on kept him company. He’d never experienced a sexual response to a woman so fast in his life. Holy shit. He’d acted like a teenaged boy looking at his first porn. And worse, he’d wanted to protect Aislynn from her sadness. Bronco mentally shook his head. He didn’t even know her and now he had sexual frustration to go with his powerlessness.

  Fuckin’ awesome. Blue balls and fury. I’m one lucky sonovabitch. Frustration at his inability to do anything leaked out his eyes in tears, and for the first time since he’d survived BUD/S training, Bronco wept.

  Chapter Two

  “Are you sure you wish that one? So few have been interested in him because he’s short and hairy.” Madame LeBeau lips turned down as she scanned the man’s docile body. “We thought of shaving him, but there is just so much of it.”

  Lindsey Jarvis let her gaze rest on the monitors of the bound man and forced her expression to remain serene in her undercover persona of Jenna Black, the Black Widow of Las Vegas. Outrage burned through her veins at the treatment of men in general, but specifically this serviceman from one of the armed forces. The bitch must have slipped him a real Mickey to bring him down. Even in modern day 2004, sometimes the oldest tricks worked best for manipulation of the strong.

  “I want him. He reminds me of my father.” Thank God the man looked nothing like her father. Let
the creepy madam think she had daddy issues. “But he’s much better built than the old man and I’d like to see how muscles like that feel.” That at least was true. Her last boyfriend had had the muscles of a marshmallow.

  Of course, the last time she’d had a boyfriend was two years ago, when she’d first started this undercover assignment for the Las Vegas Metro PD. She currently played the part of the “not quite grieving” widow of a doctor who’d died under mysterious circumstances just to get into this room with Madame LeBeau. Two years of deep undercover work took its toll on real life relationships.

  “What is his name?”

  “You can give him whatever name you wish, Ms. Black. Our products are easily modified for your pleasure.”

  God, the smile on LeBeau’s face soured Lindsey’s stomach. “Yes, well, it’s easier to keep his attention when you have a name.”

  “Ah, I see.” Madame LeBeau gave her a faint, but knowing smile. “I think we can accommodate you.” She glanced down at her computer screen, clicking with the mouse. “His name is John.”

  “John. Right. That is acceptable.”

  “He is in top condition, but he has not been with us long. I’m sure you understand why he’s so heavily medicated. Until the will is broken, the new ones need to be taught their place.”

  Lindsey let her gaze rest on the monitors as she swallowed down sour bile. Even after two years she still had a visceral reaction to the idea of this sex ring. Madame LeBeau had set up a system where healthy, robust men would be sedated with Ketamine, a veterinary sedative, and used as sex slaves, or for whatever the wealthy psychotic clientele who came to Madame LeBeau wished.