I bust open the door and scan the living room. Nothing. There’s no action in the kitchen either. I look out the window on the off chance they’re innocently catching up and having a beer out there. But I knew it was only wishful thinking. It’s sundown, and there’s hardly any light back there.
My heart drops as I make my way down the hallway. I slow before I get to the bedrooms. I don’t want to violate Brooke’s privacy, but Steve had better not be fucking her.
I clench my fists. Just the fucking thought of anyone touching her makes me want to punch a wall. It might not be fair, because I won’t touch her either, but that’s how it is, plain and simple.
Chuck’s bedroom door is open, so I peek inside and find the new bed we just bought thankfully empty. It still has all the plastic around the mattress. I check Ethel’s old room and see they’re not in there either. Then I hear bed springs squeaking from the other side of the hall.
Jesus Christ. I’m so wound up I think I’m going to pop a vein. I clench my fists again, getting them ready for fucking delivery.
I take a deep breath and open the door, as quietly as possible, one crack at a time until I’m in the room. I turn to Brooke’s bed, and my heart drops.
I see red as I process just what the holy fuck I’m seeing here.
Brooke looks like she’s passed out. She’s on her back with her head on the pillow. Her eyes are closed, and she’s spread out like a rag doll.
Her top’s unbuttoned. She still has her clothes on, but that piece of shit has her skirt up around her waist. He has his slimy back to me, and he’s crouched between her legs.
“Get the fuck off of her,” I roar with blinding fucking rage. The asshole turns, his face white as a ghost. He starts to make a move, but I grab him by the shoulders, hurling him off the bed and smashing him against the wall.
“Brooke’s mine now, you fucker,” I growl, seeing hot sparks flash before my eyes as he shakes his head, dazedly trying to stand. Before he gets to his feet, I grab him and bash him against the wall again. “Mine. Mine. Mine. Get that, fucker?” I lift him by the shirt collar, ready to crack his skull.
“You have no idea who I am,” the little fuck shouts, wildly trying to connect his fist to my face, so I bash him against the wall again.
“I’m going to wipe the fucking floor with you,” I hiss. “Did you touch her?” He reaches down and grabs his pants before I shove him again and hear the back of his head connect with the wall. “Put your pants on you fuck.” I seethe and wait. “Did you lay one finger on her?”
“I was just about to eat her out, pops,” he spits. And Christ almighty, if I don’t get him out of my sight, I might just fucking kill him. My boiling blood is turning to into molten lava. My heart is racing out of control.
I put him in a headlock and kick the bedroom door the rest of the way with my boot.
“Brooke’s my girlfriend. That’s what we do, asshole.” Steve loses his footing as I drag him down the hall. He tries to get out of my hold, but no dice. I’m twice the size of this little prick. I could break his bones with my pinky finger.
“She’s not your girlfriend, you little shit.” I tighten my hold, to make sure he’s losing air, and yank him out the front door.
“Brooke is my wife, and don’t you ever forget that.” A sharp pain hits my heart as I say the words. Christ, I almost fall to my knees. That baby girl in there is my wife.
Is it possible that I’m not only protecting Brooke because it’s the right thing to do? Is it possible I’m falling in love with little Brooke Carlisle?
An image of her at ten flashes in my brain, before I shove him into his piece-of-shit car.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I say. “And if you want to live another day, don’t you ever come near Brooke again.”
“What’s it to you?” he yells out the window. “I’m not going to take your half. Brooke and I will be happy with the ranch and our hundred acres.”
“You lowlife lying piece of scum.” I’m tempted to reach into that pile of junk and bash the little fuck’s head against the steering wheel, but the sheriff and I have other plans for him. “There is no our, scumbag. What did you do to her in there?”
“Nothin’, old man. I just gave her something to make her relax.”
He starts the engine, and I storm the car so I’m close enough to reach in and take the keys if I need to. “I’m going to ask you again. What the fuck did you give her?”
He closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly, as if it’s a ridiculous question. “Roofie, if you must know. Something I got from a friend, and it’s none of your fucking business, pops.”
I’m breaking into a sweat and desperate to get back to Brooke. “Get the fuck out of here.” I kick the car instead of punching the smirk off his face. “You heard me—get the fuck out!” I kick the door again, and he finally takes off.
I watch the idiot pull out of the driveway and make sure he doesn’t turn around.
Then I pull out my phone and text the photo of the license to Sheriff Gunner. I’ve known Gunner Jackson for years.
I hit speed dial and hustle back to the house. Gunner picks up on the second ring. I gave him a heads-up as soon as I found out Steve was planning a trip to West Palomino. The original plan was to let Steve arrive and get comfortable with his surroundings so his guard would be down. He’d be easier to catch that way. I don’t mention the fact that Steve was so goddamn comfortable with his surroundings he had Brooke’s skirt up around her waist. After Gunner assures me he’s going to nab Steve and call me later, I hang up. I’m already back in the bedroom.
Fuck. Seeing her like this shatters my heart into little bits. My poor princess is still lying on the bed in the position I left her in.
“Brooke,” I say softly. I snatch a blanket off the other bed and cover her with it.
Then I crouch low, next to her beautiful face. My arm sinks into the soft blanket as I reach for her. “Brooke,” I whisper again, taking her hand.
“Brooke.” I brush the hair off her forehead. “You okay, sweetheart?” Rationally, I know she isn’t going to answer me, but hell if I don’t ask again. “Brooke.” My heart stays suspended in air thick with worry. At this point, I just want her to open her eyes. She doesn’t have to say anything.
I run my fingers through her silky hair. “Brooke,” I say in an even tone, gently shaking her. Her eyes flutter, and my heart leaps out of my skin with relief. She searches the room and then focuses her glassy gaze on me.
“Hey,” she murmurs drowsily, giving me a smile, and it’s fucking daylight again and birds are singing.
“There you are. How are you feeling?”
“Really tired.” She closes her eyes and sinks deeper into the pillow.
“I’ll bet. Are you hurt anywhere?” I stroke her velvet arm.
“No, but I can barely move.”
“Then don’t, sweetheart. I’ve got you now. I’ll be right here.”
She opens her eyes again. “Did Steve go?”
“Ah, yeah. He did. He’s gone.” I decide not to mention anything else because I don’t want to upset her. And she doesn’t ask me any more questions. She closes her eyes and smiles. She’s off in dreamland again, and fuck if I don’t wish I could go with her.
I’m worried. I don’t know what the procedure is when someone has been drugged. There isn’t a hospital nearby. The closest thing we have is Doc.
I step out of the room and call him. He tells me she was most likely given Rohypnol, and because she was talking and I could wake her, she thankfully hadn’t been given an overdose. He recommends I stay with her all night. And that isn’t a problem. I had no intention of leaving Brooke’s side for a minute.
Although if Steve were anywhere in the vicinity, I might just leave her long enough to kick his ass again.
She’s breathing peacefully, normally—not too heavy, not too light. I climb into the bed next to her, fully clothed, and settle in for the night.
I take a deep brea
th and try to unwind. But this whole situation is screwing with my brain.
And my confusion has nothing to do with Steve. I don’t think I could live if anything happened to Brooke. This marriage thing has thrown me for a loop. I’m perfectly happy just to lie next to her and listen to her breathe.
Chapter Ten
I roll over onto my side, feeling my head split in half. It throbs like I’ve been hit with a ton of bricks. My eyes adjust to the early-morning light, and Shane comes into focus. He’s fully clothed, sleeping on top of the blankets beside me. Has he been here all night? All day? What time is it?
“Shane?” I whisper. He stirs, slowly rolling over.
“How are you feeling?” he asks softly. His eyes bore into mine.
“Like I’ve been dragged by a truck.”
He reaches over and runs his fingers along my cheekbone. I swear there’s something in his touch that’s healing me. “You’re going to be okay, sweetheart. But you should take it easy until the drug is out of your system. Get as much sleep as you can.”
“Drug?” I try to think back to the night before but don’t recall anything. “I didn’t take anything. I don’t do drugs, by the way.”
“I know,” he murmurs. “But you have something pretty damn potent in your system.”
I shake my head, not understanding. The jackhammering starts again, so I stay still. “What happened?”
“Steve paid a visit.” Shane’s eyes flash with concern. There’s a seriousness about him that tells me whatever happened isn’t a joke. My stomach feels queasy. “Look, I don’t want you to worry.” Shane’s deep, consoling voice works like a salve. “I promise I’ll explain everything when you feel better.”
“Steve?” I think back to last night, vaguely recalling seeing him pull up the driveway, but that’s all I can remember.
“Yeah. He was here.”
“And I took drugs with him?”
“He gave you something, darlin’. Probably lied to you—is my guess, anyway.”
My heart pounds with fear. “I don’t—”
“Sweetheart, please don’t think about anything other than resting. You’re safe now. I promise.”
I see the worry in his gentle blue eyes, and I’m having a hard time thinking of anything other than the pain bashing my head. There is one thing I am sure of. As long as Shane is by my side, I’m safe.
IT TAKES A FULL DAY to get over the effects of the Rohypnol Steve gave me. And I know for a fact he did, because he just called me from jail and asked me to bail him out.
After I prodded and begged for the truth, he finally admitted to mixing it into my whiskey. The drug is still in my system, but at least I can think straight now. I’m so disappointed in myself.
I slowly climb out of bed and drag myself to the bathroom. I brush my teeth for the first time in two days. My heart feels as abused as my body. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around what happened. Everyone, including Gramps, told me Steve was bad news, but I didn’t believe it.
Maybe I was foolish, but I honestly never thought he would do anything to hurt me. I splash water on my face, holding back the tears.
How could I have been so wrong about him?
I know now I was just seeing what I wanted to see. I made Steve out to be so much more than he really was, and I hung on to the fantasy that he was misunderstood by everyone but me. How could I have been so naïve?
Chapter Eleven
It’s eight, which makes me four hours late for work. I have another full day of checking fences, and two of my heifers are about to give birth any minute. But for the first time in a long time, I have someone I can depend on for help.
You’d think a man who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth wouldn’t care much for mucking around in cow dung, but Blade Parker’s a godsend, one who knows his stuff.
I refill my coffee and head back to the living room. I’ve been working on my laptop for the last two hours, revising my business plan.
Even though it’s been almost a week since that asshole was here, I still don’t like leaving Brooke alone in the house. Not that I expect Steve to come back. He’s long gone in Chicago, and he’ll be locked up for years.
I just don’t like the thought of Brooke being so vulnerable. Hell, I’m thinking of hiring an armed guard to protect the house when I’m not here.
Doc assured me she’s fine now. Fuck that piece of shit Steve for ever coming into her life. Old Chuck knew what he was talking about. He had every reason to be worried about that scumbag.
“Good morning.” Brooke’s silky voice makes me look up from my spreadsheet. It’s one of those hazy gray mornings. The light coming in from the window is almost like one of those photo filters. There’s a softness to her face and a sweetness about her I haven’t seen before.
“Morning. There’s coffee in the kitchen.”
She nods. “Thanks.” She eyes my computer. “Am I interrupting something important?
“No. Everything okay?”
“Yeah, I just wanted to talk to you for a minute.” Keeping her solemn smile in place, she sits on the other end of the couch.
I save the spreadsheet and shut my computer down. “What’s up?”
“Thank you for helping me the last few days,” she says quietly, and, oh shit, I see her chin trembling. And her eyes are watering. Fuck, I don’t think I can take seeing her cry.
“No problem, darlin’. What’s a husband for?” I add, hoping to lighten the mood.
She looks down at the floor and shakes her head. “I’m not an idiot, you know. I mean, I was, I guess, with him. But I’m not usually so stupid.”
Tears tumble down her cheeks, and my heart is about to bust in two. “Hey,” I say, moving closer so I can sit beside her. “There’s no need to talk like that.”
Her teary brown eyes lock on mine and don’t let go. “Oh, Shane.” She bursts out crying and wraps her arms around me.
My heart leaps, and fuck if my cock doesn’t jump too, responding to the way her curves are pressed against me, her tits smashed against my chest. Christ, now? She’s crying in my arms and I’ve got a fully fledged hard-on.
“You’re going to be okay, baby girl.” I gently stroke her long silky hair. I let my fingers play with the ends and close my eyes. I breathe her in—oranges and sugary cake. “Don’t worry about anything.”
“Steve admitted it.” Brooke sniffles. “He put that crap in my drink because he wanted to make me pregnant so I’d marry him and he’d get the ranch too. He was afraid I’d say no.”
My heart stops. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did that asshole screw her? Did he put his slimy cock inside my Brooke?
“Thankfully, he didn’t get very far before you walked in.”
My heart starts beating again. “Thank God,” I say, blowing out a breath of relief.
“Steve said he didn’t think it would hurt me, and that he only gave me a small dose. His excuse was we didn’t have much time.” Her words are muffled against my shirt. But I can hear them clearly between her sniffles, and Christ, I think I’m capable of murdering that piece of shit.
I snuggle her close, and she nuzzles into my shoulder. I never want to let this precious woman out of my sight again. Even if I can’t touch her again, she’s mine to protect. And with every breath I take, I swear I will.
“How could I have been so wrong about him?”
I pause, not wanting to make her feel worse. She told me he was the first real boyfriend she ever had. It makes me sick to think of him preying on someone so innocent and trusting. I tip her chin up so she’ll look me in the eye. “He’s a seasoned criminal, darlin’. He lies for a living. That’s his M.O. Don’t blame yourself.”
“No?” She sniffs. With her guard down, no makeup on and pouring her heart out to me, I’m just about convinced I’ve found an angel.
“No. And you never have to worry about him again.”
“I don’t?”
“Not for a second.” I wipe the tears off her cheeks with my t
humb and cradle her face. “You have me now.” Before I know what I’m doing, I kiss the salty tears off her cheek, trail down to her ripe lips, and kiss her. The tenderness turns into a torrent. Waves of full-out want and dying need take over. A thousand what-ifs rage through my brain. What if Brooke was really my woman, not only to protect, but to have and hold—forever?
Brooke breaks the kiss. “But do I really have you, Shane?” she asks softly, reading my mind.
And Christ, I have to be honest. She’s too young to be mine. I’m old enough to know better. She’ll grow up and, in a few years, will probably marry a man her own age. “I promised your granddad I’d take care of you, and I will.”
She nods, then takes a deep shuddering breath. “That kiss felt like a little more than you’re just taking care of me for my grandpa.”
If she knew how hard I was, she’d know how right she is...
“I don’t care if you’re older.” She burns a hole in me with her soulful brown eyes.
“You say that now, but you’ve been traumatized.” I’m doing my best to be rational. She doesn’t understand that I’ve been holding back for her own good. “We don’t have much time left to go. Let’s stick with our plan and not make things more complicated than they already are.” Because if I fuck you again, there’s no turning back. Twenty-one or not. I’ll never let you go.
Chapter Twelve
July
I shouldn’t have broken my resolve and fucked Brooke the first time. And I should’ve known better than to kiss her that last time, because it’s been a living hell here lately, and it’s getting worse.
Since I rescued her from that idiot, Brooke has been all in with the teasing, knowing full well what she’s doing. Running around the house half naked, trying to tempt me into fucking her again.
That little one is playing with fire. And tonight, I’m at the end of my rope. She’s pushed me too goddamn far.
Long Hard Ride: Arranged Marriage, Brothers, Cowboy Romance (The Wild Wests Book 3) Page 7