When the Sun Burns (Six Shooter and a Shifter Book 2) Read online

  When the Sun Burns

  BOOK TWO IN THE SIX SHOOTER AND A SHIFTER SERIES

  LUCÍA ASHTA

  When the Sun Burns

  Book Two in the Six Shooter and a Shifter series

  Copyright © 2022 by Lucía Ashta

  www.LuciaAshta.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, or events is purely coincidental.

  Cover design by Mirela Barbu

  Editing by Ocean’s Edge Editing

  Proofreading by Geesey Editorial Services

  About When the Sun Burns

  The people and creatures of Traitor’s Den are always getting into trouble. Hell, they’re supposed to. It’s the one thing I can count on to be predictable. The longer they spend in the Den, the more the spell that keeps us all here has the chance to take effect, turning us all into my Uncle Tucker’s version of cowboys and cowgirls—and he clearly had little idea about a true western community when he first condemned my parents to a life stuck in one.

  Our little one-way town is always wild, definitely outrageous, and no day is ever the same as the one before it.

  But when Rhett Stead and Zeke Doyle tumble through the portal, throwing punches before they even land, our town’s signature wild western flavor swells a couple of notches, especially since they seem to think I’m their mate or queen or ... whatever.

  Their steamy looks are enough problem to handle, and then I discover what Rhett’s been carrying around in his, um, err, goods. The secret contraband definitely does not belong in our prison world since we have no chance of escaping it.

  Worst of all, something big, ferocious, and fire-breathing wants what Rhett snuck in. Several somethings, in fact. And the portal just popped open again...

  Hold on to your hats, ‘cause the ride just got wilder.

  For the daring part within that encourages us to shrug off what anyone else thinks and to instead honor ourselves. To take risks, to do the wild things, and to forge our own paths.

  ♥

  And also for my daughters and beloved, to whom I owe so many of my life’s delightful moments.

  When the goin’ gets wild, strap on your favorite hat and six shooters, ‘cause there ain’t no escapin’ this ride.

  LORETTA MAYBELLE RAY, SHERIFF OF TRAITOR’S DEN

  Contents

  1. Dog Days Make for Long Days

  2. Shall I Finish Losing My Mind, Or Will It Wait Till Tomorrow?

  3. When the Job Requires Wet Tighty-Whities, Judge Away

  4. Say the Pluck What Now?

  5. Puny Peckerheads, Beastly Ex-Lovers, and Dragon Eggs Make for a Doozy of an Ultimatum

  6. Queens, Mates, and Grand Poohbah Bait

  7. A Dragon in the Bosom Does Not a Dragon Momma Make

  8. Three-Fingered Salutes and Dontchou Worries

  9. Staring Is Plain Rude Unless You’re Nekked Too

  10. Nighttime Lies, Temptations, and Hussy Revelations

  11. Welcome to Motherbleeping Traitor’s Den, Bee-atch

  12. Don’t Steal a Honey Pot from A Beast of a Badass, and Other Life Lessons

  13. There’s a World of Difference Between Half In and Half Out

  14. Mothertucker!

  15. Blazing Dragon Fire, or Oh-Shizzle-Stick Inspiration to Bolt Out-of-Sight Away

  16. Mind Your Manners and Warnings, and Point that Dragon’s Breath Someplace Else

  17. The Bright and Sparkly Best of This Forsaken Town

  Read the Next Book

  Sneak Peek of When the Lightning Strikes

  Also by Lucía Ashta

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  CHAPTER 1

  Dog Days Make for Long Days

  The dog days of summer arrived earlier than usual. I pulled off my favorite black Stetson to shake out my long hair, cooling my head for a second. Sweat trickled down the small of my back, my plaid button-down shirt tied up beneath my bra. If I weren’t the sheriff, I might have been tempted to run around naked; the midday sun was sweltering.

  It’s so hot that cocks be sweatin’ their balls out n’ the hens are layin’ hard-boiled eggs, I thought, sighing loudly.

  “Maybe findin’ their broody hens sittin’ on cooked eggs’d be enough weird to distract Ollie n’ Leroy from their stupid-ass argument,” I muttered to Tiger, who stood beside me as we both stared at the jagged property line, marked by serpentine lengths of rope, that currently divided Ollie’s land from Leroy’s. It was the source of their loud and unrelenting disagreement. I chuckled amiably, my mood improving now that Ollie and Leroy’s shouts were tempered by distance. They stood on either side of the rope, fifty feet away.

  Tiger turned his massive head around to look at me, arching his entire brow in question.

  I snorted. “Right. There I go forgettin’ you can’t hear the conversation I’m havin’ with myself again.”

  Tiger was a man trapped inside the body of his shifter animal; he wasn’t a mind reader.

  Hat back firmly where it belonged, I propped my hands on my hips, running my fingers along the smooth grips of my pair of six shooters, Big Bertha and Big Wilma. My two choice girls never let me down.

  “Think anyone’ll mind if I shoot the both o’ them?” I asked Tiger, this time aloud.

  He chuffed in a way that sounded like, No one’ll mind at all. Shoot ‘em already. They’re drivin’ me nuts. But of course I couldn’t be sure. Tiger’s chuffs suited all sorts of purposes.

  “Maybe Denners’ll line up to buy us a round of drinks over at Sharmayne’s for doin’ what everyone’s been wantin’ to do for ages. Water for you, o’ course, but the chilled kind Shar keeps in the back for special occasions.”

  Tiger laughed, a deep, husky chuff.

  “Mind you,” I continued, “I wouldn’t shoot ‘em with Big Wilma, though I’d mighty like to.” No Denner with common sense wasted a silver bullet when a lead one would do. “But Big Bertha’s been bored lately.”

  Not because it’d been quiet in Traitor’s Den, since it rarely was. But because my parents, Rhett, Zeke, Cole, Birdie, and even Jolene, had been breathing down my neck as if I were made of fine porcelain and poised to shatter. If it were up to them, I’d never shoot a gun again. Lucky for me, it wasn’t.

  Leroy closed the distance between him and Ollie to jab a pointy index finger into the other man’s chest.

  “Awwww, hell,” I grumbled as my fingers wrapped around Big Bertha’s grip. “Looks like it’s shootin’ time.”

  Tiger humphed as we walked toward the two mages.

  Of course, I wouldn’t really shoot them, though I wasn’t sure how many Denners would blame me if I did. Leroy and Ollie had been arguing for ages about one thing or another, didn’t seem to matter much what.

  Ollie puffed out his scrawny chest, gathered a full breath, and shouted right in Leroy’s face: “Cain’t never could. Don’t you touch me again. Not ever. Not if you’re fond of keepin’ your finger where ‘tis.”

  Ollie’s face was so red you couldn’t make out his freckles. “You don’t get to go pokin’ me ‘less you want me to poke you back.” Which he did, square in Leroy’s barrel of a chest. Ollie was several inches taller than Leroy, but they probably weighed about the same. Leroy was built like a bull.

  Sweat beading along his hairline, Leroy yelled, “In all my born days … go pound salt up your ass with a wire brush!” He shook his head, tanned skin flushing as Ollie extended a finger toward his chest another time.

  Leroy said, “Don’t you poke me again! Don’t you dare do it!”

  Poke.

  Leroy’s nostrils flared as he dipped his head, glaring at his neighbor as if he could fry him with the heat of his anger. “That’s it. That’s it! I’m gonna stomp a mudhole in your butt n’ walk it dry.”

  Ollie cracked his knuckles. “And I’m gonna smack you so hard your kids’ll come out behavin’!”

  Wincing at their combined volume, I clamped a hand on their shoulders.

  They jumped as if they’d forgotten Tiger and I were there.

  I said, “You two could start an argument in an empty field with nothin’ but a plucked weed between the two o’ you to argue about.”

  “He poked me,” Ollie accused.

  Leroy brought his finger up in front of his face as if it were the barrel of a revolver, and peered down the length of it, pointing at Ollie. “You poked me back. Twice.”

  “You did it first. So you get it double back.”

  Tiger was circling us, probably wondering if the idjits would notice if he chomped off a leg or two.

  I rolled my eyes. “You can’t make chicken salad out o’ chicken shit. And speakin’ o’ chickens, can you two not hear the racket yours are makin’? They don’t like it when ya fight.”

  That might be a lie, surely they were used to it by now, but it got the men to pause and listen to the nonstop squawking and frantic fluttering of wings. For all of five seconds.

  Leroy again sighted Ollie along the length of his finger and pointed, stopping a breath away from touching his chest. “Your cock’s botherin’ my hens again.”

  “Hell no, that ai
n’t right,” Ollie said. “It’s your cock that’s got all my hens worked up. And it’s your cock that keeps crossin’ the property line. Which means the property line moves and I get more.”

  “That’s not how that works,” I said, but Leroy retorted too fast to register what I’d said.

  “A cock don’t move a property line. Whatchou got in there ‘tween your ears? A pile o’ sawdust?”

  “I’m plenty smart. Smarter than you,” Ollie said. “But if the property line don’t move, then the cock’s mine.”

  “Why? Why would Wild Willy be yours? Just ‘cause you say so?” Leroy shook his head, curly hair bouncing around. “I swear, if stupid could fly, you’d be an eagle.”

  Ollie’s cheeks heated to a deep scarlet. “You take that back, Leroy Eddie.”

  Leroy pointed his chin up. “I won’t. Just tellin’ it like it is. Wild Willy’s mine, and it ain’t my fault if your hens like to tease him.”

  Ollie’s eyes widened while he gasped in affront. “My hens do no such thing. My hens is ladies. They don’t tease nobody, ‘specially not that stupid rooster o’ yours.”

  After rubbing my hands over my face, I drew Big Bertha, replaced her rounds with blanks, and didn’t even step back before I stretched my arm up and shot off a couple into the air.

  By the time I reloaded and holstered Big Bertha, Leroy and Ollie were blessedly silent and looking over at me, waiting.

  I breathed, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet. “Y’all make my ass itch. Do I look like I need my ass to be itchin’?”

  I injected a healthy dose of I’ve-had-it-up-to-here-with-you-idjits into the narrow-eyed look I was directing at them.

  “I said, Do I look like I need the two o’ you settin’ my ass to itchin’?”

  “Un-unh,” Ollie answered while Leroy shook his head, having the grace to shrug sheepishly.

  “Gettin’ you two to get along’s like tryin’ to bag flies. Don’t we got enough problems right now in town without the two o’ you goin’ at it like barnyard cats?”

  Even these two dumbasses knew that we sure as smelly shit did. It was no secret that the newcomers, Rhett Steed and Zeke Doyle, came through the pocket portal to town with a dragon egg in tow. An egg that was bound to hatch at some point. Into a dragon.

  A dragon.

  When there was no escaping Traitor’s Den no matter how hard any of us tried.

  And as much as I’d prefer my personal business not be aired out all over town, it was the main topic of gossip, had been for weeks. I had a healthy dose of dragon magic rolling around inside me, maybe some shifter and witch magic from my daddy and momma, possibly also a bit from Traitor’s Den that rubbed off on me, and a whole host of other possible problems from the many attempts Denners had made at saving me from a lethal dragon bite. I’d swallowed magic-infused potions, booze, and sweets; worn enchanted charms; and generally done just about everything short of hopping on one leg while clucking like one of these squawking hens—though I would have tried that too if there’d been any chance it’d help.

  “Well?” I prompted Leroy and Ollie, and Jolene, my loyal Appaloosa, neighed in support from where she stood grazing in Ollie’s field.

  “Naw, I don’t s’ppose ya need no more trouble,” Ollie said, finally sounding a smidgen repentant.

  “Yeah,” Leroy said. “It’s near on a miracle ya haven’t keeled over n’ dropped right where ya stand.”

  Tiger nipped at the air around Leroy’s chest, and the man, who wasn’t prone to squeaking, squeaked.

  Leroy jumped out of reach of Tiger’s sizable jaws and amended, with a nervous giggle, “Y’all know what I mean. ‘Course I’m ever so glad Loretta survived that dragon bite. Heaven help us if we woulda had to do without our fine sheriff.” His gaze steady and plaintive, he met my eyes. “Don’t know what’d come of Traitor’s Den without you, Lo. We’d be lost as a bee with no hive.”

  “All right, all right,” I said. “I don’t need ya blowin’ smoke up my ass.”

  Leroy shook his head fervently, eyes earnest. “I mean it, woman. Ya keep us all straight as an arrow.”

  “And when that don’t work,” Ollie added, “you at least keep us straight as a bow.” He alone snorted a laugh. “You know, from the bow and arrow combo? Not straight as an arrow, so curved like a bow?”

  “Yeah, we got the joke,” Leroy grumbled.

  “Then why didn’t ya laugh?”

  I sighed loudly enough that even Ollie got the message. “Look, you guys.” I cocked a hip out to one side. “You two used to be best buds, you ‘member that?”

  Leroy scowled and refused to look at Ollie, who was staring at the other man with a slack face as if he might have actually forgotten.

  “Why’d ya let Letitia Lake, of all people, come between ya?” I asked. “Ya know she likes the fellas too much to help herself. But if you’d just kept your distance, she’d’ve eventually moved on to someone else.”

  “Nah-ah.” Ollie was wagging his head in some serious denial. “Leti’s not like that. She loved me for real.”

  “You dumbass,” Leroy said. “You’re still goin’ on with that? Leti loved me. She saw me first, fell for me first. And once a woman falls for all this”—he swept a hand along the length of his body from head to toe, patting his round belly through his overalls as if to make a point, causing me to wonder if he needed his eyes checked—“there ain’t no goin’ nowhere else.”

  Leroy, of course, left out a few glaring details. Like the fact that the town of Traitor’s Den only housed three-hundred-and-sixty-nine residents, and at the time of the Letitia affair, Leroy and Ollie were all but tied together at the waist. If she spotted one of them, she almost surely spotted the other. Letitia had only been in town about a year, and had been making her way steadily through the male population when her attention had landed on them.

  Ollie scoffed. “You’re blind as a bat, Leroy Eddie. Leti only had eyes for me.”

  “Then why’d she leave you?”

  “‘Cause she got sick o’ listenin’ to ya whine n’ moan like ya had a bellyache.”

  Leroy pointed at Ollie. “You—”

  I groaned. “I swear to everything holy that I will stand here slappin’ the two of you topside the head till I knock some sense into ya, and we all know that might be a while—unless you shut up about Letitia already. Y’all got played by a hussy.”

  They blinked at me from their slack-jawed faces.

  “But that’s okay, ‘cause you’re far from the only ones in town.”

  More open-mouthed gaping.

  “Oh, come on. You’re not really gonna stand there n’ tell me ya think she really truly loved you both, or each, or whatever.”

  Ollie brought a hand to his heart, his freckled face now pale and aghast. “She loved us, surely she did.”

  “That she did. ‘Course she did,” Leroy said. “She loved both of us true.”

  I blinked at them both in turn. Stared at them hard. Then I spun on the heel of my favorite cowgirl boots and stalked away, calling over my shoulder: “If ya wanna stay miserable, then that’s on you, but ya keep your bickerin’ out here to your homesteads, ya hear? And the property line don’t move, no matter whose cock goes where.”

  I registered what I said, wondered if I should adjust, then figured my counsel applied to multiple scenarios. Good enough.

  “But—” Ollie said.

  “But nothin’. Y’all’ve used up your one sheriff’s call for the month.”

  “Whaddya mean, ‘one sheriff’s call’?” Leroy asked. “That ain’t a thing.”

  “‘Tis now. New rule. See that you abide by it.”

  Then, without a backward glance, Tiger and I made our way over to Jolene, who walked toward us when she spotted us.

  Running a hand along her neck, I cooed, “Hey, girl. Thanks for backin’ me up there.” She leaned into my touch. “Next time I think it’s a good idea to come out here to play mediator, you remind me I never want to come back here again, not even to escape the clan of overprotectors probably huntin’ me down as I speak.”