A Brothel, Beauty And A Murderer eBook #23
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Description
A Brothel, Beauty And A Murder Book #23
A Brothel, Beauty And A Murderer by Raymond Cook © 2016 (All Rights Reserved)
Page Length: 253
Word Count: 74,000
Notice: This book contains (Graphic) steamy romance with heavy sex, strong lust, intense passion and is intended for readers 18 years of age and older.
About This Book
A Brothel, Beauty And A Murderer © 2016 by Raymond Cook is a 227-page (Graphic Sexual Content) story about a 1899 gold mining town in Colorado called Silverton. With 40 gold and silver mines both large and small there were 20 men for every woman. 30 saloons and brothels catered to miners thirst and need for a woman for an hour. Brothels and parlor houses were allowed within the Blair District which consisted of four square blocks.
The Blair House on Blair Street was one of the town’s fanciest brothels. Only wealthy men came to her parlor house. By keeping a low profile and discreet customers Jew Fanny, the madam, avoided unwanted attention from the sheriff or her neighbors. Her parlor house was a very profitable business. Jew hired only the most beautiful and willing women. One of Annabelle Bradford’s regular customers was Greg Townsend, a very rich businessman.
When he left the brothel a short time later he bumped into a couple coming out of a general store with packages. All three people fell to the ground. After apologies and no harm done, everyone went their separate ways. Greg didn’t know the woman had stolen his wallet with thousands of dollars in it. When he realized his wallet was missing he thought Annabelle stole it. He returned to the brothel with a gun in his hand.
When he walked through the front door he shot and killed the bouncer and some of the women. He searched the brothel but in the melee Annabelle escaped down the back stairs. After finding where her ranch was, Greg tied her to a railroad tie. Camped nearby though is Henry Grant, an injured bounty hunter. He was shot by a wanted man he was trailing. When he heard her screams Henry saves her life. Annabelle hires him after he heals to take her to Garnet, Montana where Greg fled to after selling his six saloons.
Sample Story Excerpt…..
After Greg was pleasured, he got dressed gave Annabelle a hug and kiss. Then she walked him to the door. She loved knowing the man she’d given her body to left smiling. When Greg left the Blair House that morning, Annabelle hadn’t touched the wallet inside his coat that had $17,000 cash in it. The Blair District was notorious for robberies, shootings, fights and con artists. Greg was about to meet two such con artists.
A half a block away was a general store and Craig and Mellissa Davidson were the best at what they did. Once they picked their victim, typically a wealthy man they would accidently run into him, causing everyone to fall to the ground. Once on the ground, Mellissa would steal his wallet. Since the wealthiest men frequented the Blair House, they knew any man leaving there had to have a fat wallet.
Their plan was simple. Let a fella almost reach the steps they were standing on with their hands full of packages. As he passed by, step off the steps and make him fall. In the confusion, grab his wallet, hide it and apologize. This trick had worked the last three times, and the couple was sure it’d work again. Sure enough, they saw Greg leaving the Blair House.
They looked at the glass window of the general store’s front door, to make their timing perfect, and it was. As they stepped back, they knocked Greg off balance, and all three of them fell to the ground. Packages flew everywhere and Mellissa fell on top of him. She lifted his wallet out of the inside of his jacket easily. After everyone got to their feet, and began picking up the packages, the couple began apologizing, again, and again.
Greg took it all in stride, and told them, besides some dirt on his pants, and jacket, there was no harm done. Less than twenty minutes after going their separate ways, Greg walked into a café for a steak meal. He always liked eating a good steak after getting a blowjob from Annabelle. He’d barely sat down at a table, and as he pat the left side of his jacket, he realized his wallet wasn’t there.
His eyes filled with rage as he knocked his chair over behind him, stood up, and hurried out the door. He went to the nearest saloon he owned, and headed straight for the bartender. In an angry voice, Greg shouted to Bill, “Hand me that damned pistol under the counter, I’m gonna kill me a whore!” Bill reached down, and handed him the Colt 45 revolver, and watched him storm out of the saloon.
The afternoon was hot, and sweat, was streaming down Greg’s face. He wiped the sweat off of his face as he reached the front door of the Blair House. He pulled the hammer back, and opened the door. He saw three women sitting on a couch to his left, as he raised the pistol, and shot the bouncer in the chest. Next, he shot Jew in the chest. Then, he looked at the three terrified women. At the top of his lungs, he shouted, “Where the hell is Annabelle and my wallet?”
When none of the women answered him, he shot two of them, as they screamed. By the time he was headed upstairs, Annabelle was already running down the hallway for the back stairs, with her purse in one hand. She ran for her life down to the livery stable, and paid the blacksmith $10, to use a buckboard beside the corral. Greg, by now, was going from room to room, searching for Annabelle.
He mistook Mary, hiding under a blanket in one of the rooms for Annabelle, and shot her twice. When he pulled the blanket off of her, he saw it wasn’t the woman he wanted dead. He had two shells left, and he spared the frightened women trying to hide in their rooms. Amber was backed into a corner, knelt down, holding her six month old baby, begging him not to shoot her.
When he knew Annabelle wasn’t there, he ran down the back stairs, looking in every direction. He knew she’d told him, she’d bought a ranch with some of her money, but he didn’t know where it was. But he was sure he knew a man who did. He shoved the pistol in his waist, and hurried out of breath, to the nearest livery stable. When he got there, he was out of breath, as his left hand wiped his brow.
“Did a woman by the name of Annabelle Bradford just rent a horse from you?” Greg demanded, in an angry voice. Bill Carson, the blacksmith shook his head no. “No, sir, Mr. Townsend, but she did get a buckboard from me in a heck of a hurry,” the blacksmith said. Greg nodded with hate in his eyes. “I know she has a ranch somewhere near Silverton, do you know where it is?” Greg asked, getting angrier by the minute.
Nervously, the blacksmith said, “She has a ranch out on Old Larson Road, it’s the last ranch on that road.” Greg told the man to saddle a horse for him. As he brought the horse out of the corral, he knew better than to ask Greg to pay him any money. Greg knew where Old Larson Road was, and he pushed that horse hard to get there. Meanwhile, the whorehouse was filled with frightened, crying women.
The woman Greg didn’t kill, downstairs, went upstairs, and found Mary dead, but no one else. They knew Annabelle must’ve escaped. But they didn’t believe she’d steal money from Greg, or any of her other customers. They all got dressed, and hurried down to the sheriff’s office, to tell him about the murders. Little did they know, Sheriff Jenkins was on Greg’s payroll. He wouldn’t be arrested and charged with murder.
By the time Annabelle reached the front porch of her cabin, she pulled back hard on the reins, and stopped the buckboard in a cloud of dust. She yelled out, “Momma, come quick!” not seeing her anywhere. When Margaret ran out the front door, she looked up at her daughter, and saw she was scared to death. When she asked her what was wrong, Annabelle didn’t want to take any time to explain.
She and her mother had to get as far away from Silverton as they could. “There’s no time for me to explain, momma. You, and I, need to pack up everything we can, and get the hell out of here. One of my customers thinks I stole his wallet and I didn’t, momma. He came back after I gave him a blowjob, and started killing people. All I heard were screams, and gun shots, as he yelled out my name.
We have to get away before he finds out where this ranch is. He’s so angry, he won’t believe me when I tell him I didn’t take his damned wallet. Get inside, and start packing,” Annabelle said between breaths. While the women began emptying dresser drawers and packing, Greg was pushing the blacksmith’s horse to near exhaustion. When he neared the ranch he pulled back the reins.
He quickly tied the horse’s reins to some bush. He looked at the horse only for a moment, and saw it was frothing at the mouth. From where he stood, he could see the buckboard near the cabin porch. He was within forty feet of the buckboard, when mother and daughter stepped out onto the porch, both carrying two suitcases in their hands. At almost the same time, they saw each other.
As Margaret gave out a scream, and dropped her suitcases, Greg shot her twice. As she fell to the ground, Annabelle dropped her suitcases, too, and knelt down. Her mother’s eyes held a cold, empty stare, as her blood soaked the upper part of her chest. Tears flowed down Annabelle’s cheeks as she hugged her mother. By now, Greg was beside her, and he never gave her a chance to return his wallet.
He cracked the barrel of his pistol over the back of her head, and she fell on top of her mother’s body, he reached down, turned her over, and aimed the pistol at her face, as he heard the distant train whistle in the distance. Just as he pulled back the hammer to shoot her, he eased down the hammer.
Simply killing her wouldn’t get his wallet and money back. It wouldn’t give him the satisfaction he wanted, either. He walked over to the barn, and came back with a length of rope. Callously, he tore Annabelle’s clothing off, and tied her up. With a shorter piece of rope, he tied her to a porch post, and went inside the cabin. Though, he looked everywhere, except for the money Margaret had in a jar, he didn’t find his money.
He walked back over to where he’d tied his horse up, and brought it up to the water trough in front of the hitching post. Anxiously, the horse drank, as he pat the side of the horse’s chest. Then, he walked over to a nearby rocking chair and sat down. He impatiently stared at Annabelle’s naked body. He thought about how much money he had paid her to have sex with him. It infuriated him she had the nerve to steal from him.
By now, the train’s whistle leaving Silverton was heard. When Annabelle finally began to awaken, she slowly raised her head up, with a terrible headache. She saw her mother’s bloodied body, before she saw Greg’s boots, and raised her head up higher. When their eyes met, each of them had hate in their eyes.
Before Greg got one word out, as tears flowed down her cheeks, Annabelle shouted, “I didn’t take your damn wallet or money. I’ve never stolen a dime from any of my customers. You didn’t have to murder my mother. She never did anything to you!” She saw him nod. “Maybe so, bitch, but she’s dead just the same. I want my wallet, and the $17,000 I had inside. You tell me where it is, and I may let you live,” Greg said in a hateful voice.
“You stupid bastard, I already told you, I didn’t take your wallet. Even if I had taken it, and told you were it was, you’d still kill me, so don’t tell me you wouldn’t. Go ahead. Stand up, and show me what kind of coward you are, and shoot me, like you did my mother,” Annabelle taunted Greg. As he stood up, and pointed the barrel of the pistol in his hand at her face, and pulled back the hammer, he shook his head no, and smiled.
“Killing you quickly won’t bring me back my money! You’re going to die, alright, but not by my hand. I have a better way of making sure, your final moments are filled with torment,” Greg said as he began laughing. As she watched him walk back into the cabin, she wondered what he was up to. When he came back out onto the porch, he held an oil lamp in one hand, and a match in his other hand.
At first, Annabelle thought he was going to set her on fire. But Greg had a different idea. He sat the oil lamp carefully down on the porch. With no sense of remorse, he yanked on her mother’s long brown hair, and dragged her body out into the clearing, as Annabelle screamed. When he returned, he tossed the top of glass top of the lamp away. When he walked off the porch, she couldn’t see what he was doing, but she knew, as tears streamed down her cheeks.
…. Continued
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