by Elle James
“Don’t worry about the Graysons. Mom and Dad are in Hawaii, celebrating their 40th anniversary. None of us brothers are married, and Lily’s too stubborn to find a man to put up with her.”
“What?” Kinsey glanced his way. “Not married? Are the women in this area blind? I practically worshipped you as a child.”
Becket chuckled. “I remember you following me around when Nash and Rider were busy. Seems you were always there when I brought a girl out to the ranch.”
Her cheeks heated. She’d done her darnedest to be in the way of Becket and his girlfriends. She didn’t like it when he kissed and hugged on them. In her dreams, she’d been the one he’d fallen in love with and wanted to marry. But that hadn’t happened. He’d dated the prom queen and married her soon after graduation.
“I thought you had married.”
“Didn’t last.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story.”
“If I remember, it’s a long driveway up to the ranch house.”
Becket paused. For a moment, Kinsey thought he was done talking about his life and failed marriage. Then he spoke again. “After college, Briana wanted me to stay and work for one of the big architecture firms in Dallas. I was okay with the job for a while, but I missed the ranch.”
“You always loved being outdoors. I can’t imagine you stuck in an office.”
He nodded. “Dad had a heart attack four years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, but I assume he survived, since they’re in Hawaii.”
Becket smiled. “He did, but he can’t work as hard as he used to.”
“So, you came home to run the ranch?”
“Yeah.” Becket’s gaze remained on the curving drive ahead. “Briana didn’t want to leave the social scene. We tried the long-distance thing, but she didn’t like it. Or rather, the marriage didn’t work for her when she found a wealthy replacement for me.”
“Wow. That’s harsh.”
“Eh. It all worked out for the best. We didn’t have children, because she wanted to wait. I like it here. I have satellite internet. I telecommute in the evenings on projects for my old firm, so I stay fresh on what’s going on in the industry. During the day, I’m a rancher.”
“Sounds like you know what you want out of life.” Kinsey sighed and rested her head against the window. “I just want to be free of Dillon.”
“What about you? You went to Baylor. Did you graduate?”
“I did. With a nursing degree. I worked in pediatric nursing.”
“Did you?”
“For a while. Dillon was still at Baylor when I graduated. When he signed on with the Cowboys, he changed. He said I didn’t need to work and badgered me into quitting.” Kinsey remembered how much she hated staying at home, and how useless she felt. “I loved my job. The kids were great.”
Becket stared at the road ahead. “We leave high school with a lot of dreams and expectations.”
“I figured I’d be happily married by now with one or two kids.” Kinsey snorted.
“Same here.” Becket’s lips twisted. “We play the hands we’re dealt. How long have you put up with the abuse?”
“Too long.” Kinsey stared out the window. “The beatings started when he signed on with the NFL. He’d take me to parties. When his teammates paid too much attention to me, he’d get jealous, drink too much, and hit me when we got back to our place.”
“Why didn’t you leave him then?”
“In the morning, he’d apologize and promise not to do it again.” Her lip pulled back in a sneer. “But, he did. Eventually, he stopped taking me to the parties.” Her life would have been so different had she left him the first time he hit her. She’d been a fool to believe he would stop.
“Couldn’t you have gone to your family?”
“Each time I mentioned leaving, Dillon flew into a rage and threatened to kill me. Then he took away my car. He said it was for my own good. The car was too old, and needed too much work to drive.” At first, Kinsey had thought his action was out of concern for her safety. But her checkbook and credit cards disappeared, and he blamed her for being careless, forcing her to live off whatever pittance of cash he gave her. Without a job, she had no income and became a prisoner in Dillon’s home. “He told me I was a terrible driver and shouldn’t be on the road. That I’d probably end up crashing into someone.”
“The man’s a dick.”
“Tell me about it.” Kinsey bit her lip to keep it from trembling. “I think part of the reason he stopped me from driving was that I’d go to visit my parents. Like he was jealous of how much I loved them, and liked spending time at home. By taking away my car, he left me with no way of getting there. Mom and Dad came up to visit me in Dallas when they could, but after they left, Dillon would stomp around the house, sullen and angry. He’d accuse me of being a mama’s girl. If I defended myself, he hit me.”
“Your parents were good people,” Becket said. “I was sorry to hear of the accident.”
Tears slipped from Kinsey’s eyes. “They were on their way to visit me, since I couldn’t go to them. I think they knew I was in trouble.”
“Why didn’t you tell them what was going on?”
“I was embarrassed, ashamed, and scared. By then, Dillon was my world. I didn’t think I had any other alternatives. And he swore he loved me.”
“He had a lousy way of showing it,” Becket said through tight lips.
She agreed. Along with the physical abuse, Dillon heaped enough mental and verbal abuse on Kinsey, she’d started to believe him.
You’re not smart enough to be a nurse. You’ll kill a kid with your carelessness, he’d say.
When her parents died, she’d stumbled around in a fog of grief. Dillon coerced her into signing a power of attorney, allowing him to settle their estate. Before she knew what he’d done, he’d sold her parents’ property, lock, stock and barrel, without letting her go through any of their things. He’d put the money in his own account, telling her it was a joint account. She never saw any of the money—never had access to the bank.
Several times over the past few months, she had considered leaving him. But with her parents gone, no money to start over, and no one to turn to, she’d hesitated.
Then, a month ago, he’d beaten her so badly she’d been knocked unconscious. When she came to, she knew she had to get out before he killed her. She stole change out of Dillon’s drawer, only a little at a time so he wouldn’t notice. After a couple weeks, she had enough for a tank of gas.
Dillon settled into a pattern of drinking, beating her, and passing out. She used the hours he was unconscious to scour the house in search of her keys. She’d begun to despair, thinking he’d thrown them away. Until last night. He’d gone out drinking with his teammates. When he’d arrived home, he’d gone straight to the refrigerator for another beer. He’d forgotten he’d finished off the last bottle the night before and blamed her for drinking the beer. With no beer left in the house, he reached for the whiskey.
With a sickening sense of the inevitable, Kinsey braced herself, but she was never prepared when he started hitting. This time, when he passed out, she’d raided his pockets and the keychain he guarded carefully. On it was the key to her car.
Grabbing the handful of change she’d hoarded, she didn’t bother packing clothes, afraid if she took too long, he’d wake before she got her car started and out of the shed.
Heart in her throat, she’d pried open the shed door and climbed into her dusty old vehicle. She’d stuck the key in the ignition, praying it would start. Dillon had charged the battery and started the car the week before, saying it was time to sell it. Hopefully, the battery had retained its charge.
On her second attempt, she pumped the gas pedal and held her breath. The engine groaned, and by some miracle it caught, coughed, and sputtered to life.
Before she could chicken out, before Dillon could stagger through the door and drag her out of the vehicle, she’d shoved th
e gear shift into reverse and backed out of the shed, scraping her car along the side of Dillon’s pristine four-wheel drive pickup, and bounced over the curb onto the street.
She’d made it out, and she wasn’t going back.
Chapter Two
‡
Becket drove around behind the house and parked close to the back porch. He wasn’t sure who would be at the ranch house.
“I really think this is a bad idea,” Kinsey said. “You have a big family. The more people who know where I am, the more likely the information will get leaked.”
“You can trust my family. If I tell them to keep mum about you being here, I guarantee they will.”
“What are Rider, Chance, and Nash doing these days?”
Becket dropped down from his pickup and rounded to her side, opening the door before answering. “As I mentioned, Rider’s into cars. He bought an auto repair shop in Hellfire. He works long hours, so he rarely comes out to the ranch, preferring to stay at his apartment over the shop. When he doesn’t have his head under a hood, he’s pretty handy at day trading. But if you ask him, he’ll tell you he prefers working with his hands, restoring vintage cars and motorcycles.”
“He always did like tinkering with the equipment.” Kinsey grinned. “Your father would get so mad when he’d come looking for his chainsaw, tractor, or riding lawn mower. Rider usually had them torn into pieces. He always managed to put them back together, though.”
“And they ran better.” Becket grabbed her around the waist and swung her to the ground.
Kinsey’s face blanched and she swayed, bracing a hand on his chest.
Becket slipped an arm around her and held Kinsey against him. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a wan smile. “Just a little dizzy. What is Chance up to?”
“He’s one of the few full-time firefighters and EMTs at the Hellfire Fire Department.”
She glanced up at him. “They have a full-time staff now? Wasn’t it all volunteer?”
“The town’s population has grown. People are moving out of the cities, wanting a simpler life away from the rat race.”
“Yeah, but that much?”
“You’d be surprised. In the last year, we’ve added a new grocery store, a small shopping center, a florist, and two new restaurants.” He chuckled and raised an eyebrow. “We even have a massage parlor.”
“Hellfire’s really moving up in the world to afford a full-time fire department.”
“We couldn’t afford a huge full-time staff, so we make do with volunteers, especially when fighting grass fires and structural fires in out of the way places.”
“Like the Coyote Creek Ranch.”
“Exactly.”
“And you’re a volunteer? Or are you full-time, along with full-time ranching and part-time architecture?”
He shook his head. “A volunteer. I have my hands full enough with the ranch and my firm.”
“Then why volunteer?”
“Partly for the training, but mostly to help others. If a fire spreads out of control, the destruction could make it to the ranch. Rather help nip the blaze in the bud before it gets too big to contain.”
Her gaze swept over him, lingering on his chest. “I take it you were training today.”
“What was your first clue?”
“Hmmm.” She held up her hands, smudged black from touching him. “I’d say the fine layer of soot was a dead giveaway.”
“You got it right.” He took her hand and led her toward the house. “We were practicing barn fires.”
Her hand squeezed his. “Sounds hot. And dangerous.”
“It was.”
“What about your sister, Lily? Does she still live at home?”
“She does. She’s a kindergarten teacher in Hellfire. During the summer, she hires out as an au pair and travels around the world with rich families, watching their kids.”
“Where’d she go this summer?”
“She hasn’t gone yet. Lily is in Dallas today, purchasing clothes and supplies for her trip to Guatemala to babysit for a rich Spanish banana farmer, who wants her to teach his children English while he and his wife visit relatives in Madrid.”
“Which leaves Senor Sanchez and his wife, Margarita.” Kinsey climbed the steps to the porch. “Margarita made the best tamales.”
“She’s still here, and she still makes great tamales.” Becket opened the back door and held it for Kinsey. “If we’re lucky, we’ll be served sopapillas when they return from San Antonio. Margarita always had a soft spot for you.”
Kinsey’s eyes clouded with tears as she stepped across the threshold into the huge kitchen. “I remember spending so many hours in here, eating lunch and helping her make cookies. I’m sure your parents got tired of feeding me.”
“My parents love kids. Hell, they had five of us. What was one more? They probably thought you were one of us.”
“I miss my folks.”
The sadness in her eyes cut straight through Becket’s heart. “I’m sorry for your loss. The good news is that when my father heard their land went up for sale, he bought it. But, they haven’t had time to do anything with the house or its contents. The place probably looks the same as the last time you visited. With an inch of fine Texas dust.”
“I didn’t know that. That entire time right after their accident was a blur. Dillon never visited my family with me, but he did take me to the funeral and insisted on me giving him power of attorney to handle their estate. He told me the money from the sale of my parent’s place went into paying off the mortgage, and other debts they’d incurred. There wasn’t much left. He said he put the remainder in a joint checking account, but he never gave me access.” Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she brushed them away. “I never had a chance to go through my parents’ things.”
Becket touched her arm. “We can go see the house while you’re here, if you like.”
Squaring her shoulders, Kinsey nodded. “I’d like that.” She glanced around the kitchen, drawing in a deep breath. “Smells like chocolate chip cookies.” Again, her eyes filled.
“I’m sure Margarita left some in the cookie jar. You’re welcome to them.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Thank you for taking me in. I don’t know what else I would have done.”
Becket pulled her into his arms. “Don’t worry. Dillon won’t find you here. And if he does, he’ll have to go through me, my brothers, my sister, Pedro, and Margarita to get to you.”
Kinsey laughed, her voice shaky. “And if you and your brothers aren’t scary enough, I saw Lily really mad when she was only ten years old. She scared me back then.”
The smile on Kinsey’s face was the one Becket remembered from when she’d been a leggy fifteen-year-old: happy, carefree, and full of hopes and dreams for the future. It killed him that Kinsey’s boyfriend had physically and mentally abused her into this insecure, frightened woman with bruises and scratches all over her body. “Lily doesn’t put up with crap,” Becket said. “I have a feeling she’d call bullshit on Dillon for what he did. I’ll bet we have to hold her back from going after the bastard.” Like Becket wanted to do. But to do that, he’d have to act against her wishes and reveal where Kinsey was hiding.
Becket couldn’t let the bastard get away with what he’d done. “I’m calling Nash.”
Kinsey touched his arm. “Please, don’t. If he’s still living here, he’ll be home soon enough. We can talk to him then.”
“I want him to keep an eye out for Dillon. If he shows up in town, I want to know immediately.”
“Dillon won’t be here that soon. My parents have been dead for a while. Hopefully, he won’t think I have anything to come back here for.”
“Why did you come back?” Becket held up a hand. “Not that I want you to leave already, but you don’t have blood relatives here.”
“I don’t know.” She lifted a shoulder. “I just kind-of headed out of Dallas. I had nowhere else to go. I wasn’t even s
ure what I’d do next. I ended up here.” She twisted the hem of her T-shirt. “I don’t have any money. I would have run out of gas soon, anyway, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m glad the car burned. A fire might be the best way of hiding it, short of pushing the wreck into a ravine.”
Not hardly. “Unfortunately, someone is bound to put together the make and model with the one Dillon will report stolen.”
Kinsey inhaled deeply and let it out. “I’ll be gone by then.”
He tensed. “How? You just said you have no money. Hell, if your clothes were in that car, they’re gone, too.”
She laughed, the sound cold, flat, and without mirth. “I got away with only the clothes on my back. I didn’t dare take the time to pack anything. I brought the only thing I cared about.” Kinsey removed a wrinkled photo from the back pocket of her jeans and held it out.
Becket took the tattered, faded photograph. “A photo of your parents. I would think you would have inherited all of their photos.”
“Dillon claimed the will said everything was to be sold. I don’t remember much from the weeks following the funeral. I think he was glad when they died. Then I was all alone in the world. He didn’t have to be nice anymore. I didn’t have anyone who gave a damn about me, and he knew it.”
Becket didn’t have anything to say that could take away the hurt and pain in Kinsey’s eyes. Instead, he opened his arms.
Kinsey leaned into him, burying her face against his dirty, soot-stained, smelly shirt.
She didn’t seem to mind. Her arms slipped around his waist and she hugged him, clinging to him as though she might be torn away if she loosened her hold. After a while, even Becket couldn’t stand his own smoky smell. “Look, let’s get cleaned up and make a plan of attack for when the others get home. We have to be ready to field their questions, because I know they’ll have some. I’ll call Rider and have him come to the ranch for dinner tonight, as well. Since he lives in town, he might have a better vantage point, should Dillon show up.”