Prologue

       Texas, 1865

      THE ONLY THING ON CODY Braddock’s mind as he pushed his horse the last mile toward the Circle B was sliding his cock into a warm, willing woman.

      It had been months since he’d touched soft, fragrant skin. Smelled the sweet scent of desire. Heard the deep, throaty moans of pure, exquisite pleasure.

      He wanted it. He needed it. Which meant his already overdue homecoming would have to wait that much longer.

      “I’ll ride in later,” he called out to his older brothers, Brent and Travis, who trotted up front. Colton, the oldest, led the group several yards up ahead. He was anxious.

      Cody couldn’t blame him. If he’d had a woman half as sweet as Rose waiting for him, he’d have been anxious to get home, too. But one woman wasn’t his style.

      Cody was the youngest. The wildest. And the reason the Braddock Brothers had ridden off four years ago to make a name for themselves as the most indestructible raiding group the Union army had ever had the misfortune to see.

      Actually, his three brothers had ridden after him to talk some sense and haul him back by his bootstraps. They’d made a pact as kids to look out for each other. To stick together. They’d had to. Their father had abandoned them when Cody had been a little over five. Lyle Braddock had left his home, his wife and his four boys to ride off in hot pursuit of some saloon whore.

      They hadn’t seen him since. Rumor had it Lyle had died in a bar fight, but no one really knew for sure. Nor did they care. They’d been too busy taking care of each other to worry over a man who’d never been much of a father.

      When Cody had up and left to join the Confederate cause, his brothers had ridden along to keep an eye on him. They’d seized supplies and helped Confederate troops and given Quantrill and his boys a run for their money when it came to notoriety.

      But the war was over now. The South had lost.

      Time to go home.

      A wave of restlessness swept through him and his chest tightened. He jerked his reins and steered his horse east. He left his brothers behind and headed toward the Red Rooster, the one and only saloon in the territory.

      A brunette. That’s what he wanted first. Then a redhead. A blonde after that. Hell, maybe he’d splurge and go for all three at once. He had a lot of time to kill now that the Braddock Brothers were officially disbanded.

      He picked up his pace, desperate to burn off the sudden rush of anxiety and defeat that clung to him.

      He’d done his best, but it hadn’t been good enough. He hadn’t been good enough. Not during the war, and sure as hell not before.

       “You’re not a kid, Cody. Time to get the ants out of your britches and man up.”

      His oldest brother’s voice followed him, pushing him harder and faster. He was tired of thinking. About the war. About going home. About being at home.

      He’d