Run To You

Sadie, those people would have been right, but no one enjoyed down-with-it girls more than the Junger boys. There was even a wild rumor that the boys had hooked up with a pair of twins they’d met in Taiwan.
    “Yeah, I pointed out to him that that particular horse had already left the barn, but he says he’s going to remain celibate until he gets married.”
    “Does he have a woman in mind?”
    “No.”
    “Had some sort of religious conversion?”
    “No. He just said the last time he woke up with a woman he didn’t know was the last time.”
    Vince understood that now. Since he’d fallen in love and all that good shit, he understood the difference between sex and sex with a woman he loved. Knew that with the one, the other was better. Knew that it became more than just an act. A need. More than just a physical release, but celibate? “He won’t last,” Vince predicted.
    Blake raised the bottle to his lips. “He seems serious, and the good Lord knows once Beau gets something in his head, he’s immovable.”
    Both the Junger boys were immovable. Loyal and stubborn to the core. Which made them good soldiers.
    “He says it’s been eight months.”
    “Eight months ? And he hasn’t gone bat-shit sideways?”
    Blake set the empty bottle on the desk. “Some people think he was born bat-shit sideways.” He chuckled and flashed the megawatt Junger grin that reached the corners of his eyes. “Me too.” He pointed to the folder. “What are you going to do with that information?”
    Vince didn’t know. He’d have to talk it over with Sadie. Ultimately, it was her call on whether she wanted to contact her long-lost half sister. “Is this Beau’s cell number?” He flipped open the file and pointed to the numbers scratched at the bottom of one of the pages.
    “Yeah. He has several. Several cell numbers. Several business addresses and a secret lair near Vegas.” Blake leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. His brows lowered as if an unpleasant memory slid behind his gray eyes. There were guys who thought the Junger brother had spooky eyes. Vince would say they were more hard, like steel, rather than spooky. The good Lord knew they all had hard memories, but just as quickly Blake’s expression changed. He flashed his notorious grin, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “So, when are you marrying that hot blonde of yours?”

Chapter One
    B ack Door Betty Night at Ricky’s Rock ’N’ Roll Saloon was always the second Thursday of the month. Back Door Betty Night was all about freedom of expression. A pageant of diversity that lured drag queens in from Key West to Biloxi. Lady Gay Gay and Him Kardashian competed for the Back Door crown with the likes of Devine Boxx and Anita Mann. The Back Door crown was one of the more prestigious crowns on the pageant circuit and the competition was always fierce .
    Back Door Betty Night also meant the bartenders and cocktail waitresses had to dress accordingly and show more skin than usual. In Miami, where short and tight ruled the night, that meant practically naked.
    “Lemon!” Stella Leon hollered over Kelly Clarkson’s “Stronger” yowling from the bar’s speakers. On stage, Kreme Delight did her best impersonation of a shimmering, leather-clad dominatrix. That was the thing about drag queens. They loved sparkles and glitter and girl-power songs. They were more girl than most girls, and loved girl drinks like appletinis and White Russians, but at the same time, they were men. Men didn’t tend to order blender drinks. Stella, like most bartenders, hated making blender drinks. They took time and time was money.
    “Lemon,” a male bartender dressed in tiny white shorts and shimmer hollered back.
    The Amy Winehouse bouffant pinned on the top of Stella’s head stayed securely anchored as she raised a hand and caught the yellow fruit hurled at her. Around the base of the bouffant fastened to her head, she’d tied a red scarf to cover the many bobby pins holding it in place. On a normal night, her long hair was pulled up off her neck, but tonight she’d left it down and was hot as hell.
    She sliced and squeezed and shook cocktail shakers two at a time. Her breasts jiggled inside her leopard-print bustier, but she wasn’t worried about a wardrobe malfunction. The bustier was tight and she wasn’t a very busty girl. If anything, she feared the bottom curves of her butt might show beneath her black leather booty shorts and