Protector: Doms of Mountain Bend Book 1

by BJ Wane

  Buck’s sudden death from a massive heart attack two years ago had devastated them and Miss Betty. When his will was read, leaving his wife financially well-off and the entire fifty-thousand plus acre ranch to Shawn, Clayton, and Dakota, they’d vowed to continue making the generous couple proud.

  “Shawn ought to worry more about what Father Joe would say,” Dakota said in a scoffing tone.

  “Father doesn’t judge, just lectures. Still, that might be one sin I omit the next time I go to him for confession,” Shawn replied as they stepped outside, humor lacing his voice.

  He drew in a deep breath of cool spring air as they strode toward Dakota’s Jeep, the only vehicle in the gravel parking lot. The ink-black, star-studded sky was the same as in Arizona, but that was the only common denominator between the two states where he had lived. The much colder temperatures had taken getting used to coming from such a hot, arid climate, but now he much preferred the mountains, towering pines, and endless ranges to the cacti-strewn, sandy desert. Whenever he took the time to visit Father Joe, his only connection now to Phoenix, he found he didn’t miss his childhood home turf anymore.

  “He came through for us when we needed him to,” Clayton commented, hoisting himself into the rear seat of the Jeep. “Shipping us out to Buck and intervening with social services saved our asses.”

  “Speak for yourself. I’ve always looked after my own ass.” Dakota started the Jeep as Shawn swung onto the front seat.

  “But you wouldn’t have the skills or the ranch you can lay claim to now without Father Joe and Buck’s interference,” Shawn reminded him. Of the three of them, Dakota struggled the hardest with his past, and the unsolved murder of his mother that had landed him in foster care.

  “True.”

  Shawn hid his smile. Dakota always used as few words as possible, as if it hurt to talk. He could be a mean son of a bitch if a situation warranted it, such as an injustice against a woman or animal, but Shawn and Clayton were probably the only two who knew just how supportive and caring he was with those who mattered to him.

  Dakota dropped Shawn off first, and he bid them good night before entering his log cabin home. They each had built a place on the ranch but lived miles apart, Dakota having settled closest to the barns, stables, and bunkhouse, since he managed the ranch business. Like Shawn, Clayton opted to build closer to the main road into Mountain Bend, the small, revitalized mining town where they both worked. As the town’s only prosecutor, Clayton often worked with him and the sheriff’s department when preparing for a case.

  Curly and Mo, the abandoned German shepherds he had recently adopted, greeted him with wagging tails, rubbing their still-too-thin bodies against his legs. “Hey, guys. Have you behaved?” He petted each one then tossed his hat on a hook by the door and left the entry to scan the main living, dining, and kitchen area for any destructive behavior. Other than a shredded magazine and one of his boots lying unharmed in front of the stone fireplace, it appeared the dogs were finally getting comfortable with his absences.

  “Good boys,” he praised them, walking into the kitchen to get them a treat from under the large, farmhouse sink.

  Shawn wasn’t much of a cook, but he still built a large kitchen with plenty of storage in the forest-green cabinets and prep space on the long butcher-block counters. Dark wood beams lined the vaulted ceiling across the entire space and matched the stain on the wood floors, a nice contrast to the lighter logs covering half the walls. The rest were painted the same dark green as the cabinets, but the south wall of windows allowed for bright rays of sunshine to lighten this portion of the house during most of the day.

  “Okay, you two, out you go for a spell.”

  He let the dogs out the slider then pivoted, his eyes landing on the answering machine’s blinking light. And here he’d just been thinking about Father Joe. The extra expense of keeping a landline just so the priest would stay in touch spoke to his deep affection for the man who had been there for him ever since the death of Shawn’s father. He didn’t need to listen to the message, as Father Joe was the only one who had the number to that phone. No one else of his acquaintance harbored such an aversion and ineptness toward the modern convenience of cell phones.

  Pulling out his cell, he remained by the slider to keep an eye on the dogs while he returned the call. “Hey, Father. What’s up?”

  “Just checking in with you, son. How are you guys getting by without Buck?”

  “We miss him, but we’re fine. Work keeps us busy. Miss Betty stays in touch, and that helps.” Shawn grinned, watching the dogs wrestle.

  “If you’d find a nice girl and settle down, you’d be happier.”

  “How do you know?” he retorted but with humor. “You’ve never married.”

  “I’m married to the church, and she’s made me happy.” Father paused a moment then said in a guarded tone, “Are you seeing anyone?”

  Wondering at the sudden interest in his love life, Shawn said, “I see several women all the time. No one special, if that’s what you’re wondering. Why all this concern over my bachelorhood?”

  “You just turned thirty-five. I figured you would be ready to think about having a family.”

  “I have a family. You, Dakota, and Clayton. And Miss Betty still likes to cook for us and give us hugs.”

  Unbidden, the memory of thin arms clinging to his neck and a small body quivering against his chest popped into his head. He still thought of that little girl now and then, wishing Father Joe would tell him more about where she ended up living after that night. Other than to tell Shawn he and social services had found another foster home for the girl, and that she was safe, the priest had refused to disclose any other information about her, including her name. For months after relocating to Buck’s ranch, he had been plagued with thoughts and worry about the frail little girl, her trusting green eyes haunting him even in sleep. Shawn had no explanation for the strong impact that short encounter made on him to still remember her so vividly after all this time.

  “That’s good. I’ll let you go, son. You take care, now.”

  “You too, Father.” Shawn hung up, thinking that was one of the oddest conversations he’d ever had with the priest.

  ****

  Lisa jerked as Master Wade snapped the flogger across her buttocks again, the spreader bar holding her feet apart and immobile, keeping her in position on the chain. Tears blurred the wall in front of her when the painful stinging the multiple strands elicited failed to bring her usual, much needed response of numbing relief. Fisting her cuffed hands above her, she braced for the next lash, praying for the temporary distraction she craved.

  “What do you want, Lisa?” Master Wade demanded, running the thin leather strips over her clenched buttocks. Her bare body glistened with perspiration, but inside she remained cold.

  “More, please. And…harder,” she whispered, ashamed of the depth of her longing for this extreme method of escapism. When she’d first explored BDSM as a means to cope with the nightmares that had plagued her since childhood, she’d never dreamed she would need it to withstand with the possibility of a stalker intent on hurting her, or worse.

  His low curse didn’t bode well for her, but he struck again anyway, giving her the more forceful blow she’d begged for. Blistering heat erupted across her tender globes, wrenching a cry from her tight throat, but her mind remained aware of her surroundings in the Phoenix club, her pussy dry when she yearned for those blessed moments of freedom an orgasm offered.

  Lisa whimpered and hung her head, her long hair falling forward to hide her face as Master Wade stepped close enough his leather vest and pants brushed her bare skin. When he bent to free her ankles, she knew the scene was over and disappointment swamped her.

  “Your head isn’t in the game tonight, Lisa,” he admonished as he rose and released her bound wrists next.

  She fell against him and sighed when his arms came around her. He was her favorite Dom, but even with him before tonight, she had con
tinued to fall short of achieving her ultimate goal of exorcising her sexual hangups. Now, with the added fear and stress of having picked up a stalker, she couldn’t even gain the minimal relief she used to reap from alternative sex before the first harassing phone call.

  “I know. I’m sorry, sir.”

  Master Wade squeezed her then reached for her dress and panties lying on a chair against the wall. He slipped the sleeveless sheath over her head, and it fell to just above her knees, the soft, pale-blue cotton cool against her hot buttocks.

  “I can do that, sir,” she protested when he stooped down and held out her panties for her to step into.

  “I know you can, but let me help you. It’s the least I can do since I’ve failed to get you to tell me what’s wrong.”

  Tears pricked Lisa’s eyes again as she braced on his shoulders and lifted her feet one at a time. For over a year now she’d entrusted her body to Master Wade and a few others, seeking answers to a blurry past, and now, evasion from a personal threat. The small orgasmic pops she’d managed under their tutelage were the first and only bouts of pleasure she’d reaped from any sexual encounter. Granted, she could only boast of two affairs before seeking membership to the club, but neither her fondness for those men nor the sex had been enough to thaw the ice that formed whenever they touched her.

  I can’t tell you what I’m not sure about. Lisa stepped away from Master Wade as he dropped his hands. “I’m sorry. If I knew, I would tell you.” She looked around the large, converted warehouse at the people she’d come to know well enough to bare herself in front of, but still refrained from forming close friendships, determined to keep this part of her life secret. Most of their faces reflected the contentment and pleasure she wanted more than anything else except her safety. As much as she would miss this place, and those who understood why she came here, maybe it would be best if she stayed away for a while. Although, if whoever was targeting her made good on his threats, she wouldn’t survive long enough to miss anything.

  “I’ll try harder next time, if you still want to scene with me,” she told him.

  “Of course.” Taking her arm, he steered her toward the entrance. “But do yourself a favor and invest in some honest soul-searching before you return. You have to be honest with yourself before you can be totally open with any Dom. You’re always welcome here, Lisa.”

  Master Wade kissed her, a soft brush of his lips that left her aching for the hard, masterful possession she knew he preferred. As she walked out the door he held open for her, she vowed not to return until she could earn his time and respect again. She wound her way through the packed parking lot toward the yellow Volkswagen she’d scrimped and saved for, slid behind the wheel and flipped on the AC. Early spring was still cool in most places, but in Arizona the temperatures were already soaring into the nineties. Before pulling onto the highway, she checked her phone, releasing her held breath when she saw no new texts or messages from the stranger intent on causing her grief. Even after she changed her number twice, he managed to find her.

  His persistence scared the hell out of her.

  Lisa shuddered, recalling a vague memory of the heavy weight and foul breath of another man the last time she experienced this kind of fear. The terror that man and her stalker instilled was different from the heart-wrenching uncertainty she could still remember from the night police had awoken her and taken her to a stranger’s house, saying only that her mother wasn’t coming home. It had taken weeks of counseling before she’d understood the finality of the car accident that had taken her mother’s life as she’d driven home from work. Lisa had only been in that first foster home one week before being uprooted again and delivered into the hands of that now faceless man.

  As always, whenever that foggy memory made an unwelcome return, a wave of anxiety caused her heartbeat to speed up, and her mind automatically pulled up a clearer image of smokey gray eyes filled with concern. Unlike the man who had frightened her that night, his face, voice, and comforting hold were easy to recall. Even now, all these years later, he was her go-to guy when she needed a good memory to divert her from her troubles. Knowing there was someone out there who had once found her worth saving always helped calm her rioting thoughts.

  Approaching the city limits, Lisa attempted to apply the brakes, her heart jumping to her throat as the pedal went to the floor without slowing the car. Gripping the wheel, she tried again to no avail and turned nauseous. He’s done threatening. Her palms turned sweaty from her struggle with the wheel, and she racked her brain for options. Shaking inside and out, she spotted a flat grassy area up ahead, praying she survived the sudden jolt as she veered off the road before reaching to shut off the ignition.

  She gasped as the seat belt dug into her shoulder and waist with the abrupt, jarring halt of the compact, fast-moving car. The sudden silence in the pitch-black surroundings scared her as much as the close call. She knew with gut-clenching certainty her brakes had been tampered with and who was responsible. He, whoever he was, was no longer content with tormenting phone messages.

  As soon as she could pry her fingers loose from the steering wheel, she reached for her phone and called the tow service her insurance would pay for. Then she dialed the only person left whom she would trust with her life, her voice trembling with residual fear when he answered and she asked, “Father, can you come get me?”

  ****

  “What’s wrong, child?”

  Father Joe’s heart ached watching Lisa pace his living room, her face pale, hands still trembling from that near accident. He’d kept in touch with his children over the past twenty years, even though he’d known it wasn’t wise to let himself become not only attached to her and the boys but invested in their lives. They might not have sprung from his body, but his close bond with his childhood friend, Patrick McDuff, had ensured his love and support of Patrick’s son, Shawn, especially after Patrick’s untimely death. When Shawn had showed up late that night all those years ago, bruised and carrying the traumatized child, there had been no turning any of them away.

  “Something has been bothering you for a while now.” He handed her a Coke, her favorite drink, and nodded toward the sofa. “Sit down and tell me.”

  She sank onto the couch and looked at him with haunted eyes, the same heartbreaking gaze she’d given him the night Shawn had rescued her from their abusive foster parent. One of his biggest regrets would always be not stepping in sooner to see that Shawn was placed in a decent home instead of trusting the system to do right by him.

  Joe could tell from the three boys’ faces they wouldn’t stay put in another foster home, and he’d decided to take matters into his own hands. After putting a quick call in to a good friend of his, he’d contacted the authorities and had a “come to Jesus” talk about the children’s safety. Between Lisa’s traumatized state and Shawn’s accounting of that night’s events, they’d agreed to the relocation of the boys to Buck Cooper’s ranch, and the family in his parish Joe knew well and had suggested for the young girl.

  “Someone, I don’t know who, has been leaving threatening messages on my phone and in texts. I’ve tried ignoring them, changing my number, and reporting the harassment, but that hasn’t stopped him. And now, to-tonight…” Lisa sucked in a deep breath then took a long swallow of pop before continuing. “My brakes failed, Father, and I don’t think it was due to mechanical error. They were fine driving earlier, and I just had my car in for a tune-up.”

  Joe went cold at the thought of someone so callously tormenting her. “We need to get a report from the shop that has your car now,” he said, taking a seat on the chair facing the sofa then leaning forward to clasp his hands between his knees to hide his own shaking. “Then we can go to the police.”

  Lisa shook her head. “It won’t do any good, not until I have proof the same person tampered with the car. They were little help when I contacted them about the calls. I’m scared enough, Father, that I think I should get out of Phoenix for a little while.” She
blinked back tears as she sipped her Coke again. Lowering the can, she pleaded with him for answers. “But where would I go, and how would I get away without whoever this is finding out?”

  Shawn would keep her safe. Joe didn’t doubt that for a second. But sending her to him would negate his efforts to help both of them get over that difficult night. After separating them twenty years ago, he’d sought professional advice on how to answer Shawn’s constant questions about Lisa, thinking it best the two of them put that night behind them as fast as possible. The psychologist he’d talked to had agreed, suggesting letting Shawn know she was fine without relating any personal details. Dr. Forbes had assured him that nine times out of ten, children suffering a one-time abusive situation reached adulthood without difficulty or lingering side effects. She’d been right, and Shawn had quit asking after Lisa within a few months of living in Idaho.

  He’d kept in touch with Lisa’s foster parents and her when she’d started attending the parish school. Like Shawn, she’d stopped asking about “that boy” after settling in her new home and getting comfortable with the other foster kids and her new environment, but the disappointment and sadness reflected on her small face whenever he’d answered her inquiries by telling her he had to go away still haunted him.

  Lately, he’d wondered if he should have let them correspond. Who knew if they had connected in a special way that night, or could have developed a special friendship over the years if he hadn’t kept them apart? It bothered him they were both still single, Lisa alone with no close friends and rarely dating, and Shawn, as well as Clayton and Dakota, showing no interest in settling down with families of their own.

  Still, he hesitated to throw them together after all this time, worried about resurrecting bad memories. With Lisa’s safety on the line, he chose to err on the side of caution and let fate decide the rest.