by Lauren Smith
A cool hand covered his forehead and a soft shushing sound filled his ears.
“Hey…it’s okay.” Hayden was kneeling by his shoulder and rubbing one hand over his back. “I’m sorry there wasn’t an easier way to tell you. But it’s important. Someone is trying to kill your brother and now you.”
It took a few minutes of her quiet words and gentle touches before his body relaxed and he regained control of himself.
Fenn sat back on his heels and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He didn’t feel better, but at least he wasn’t going to throw up again. This woman seemed to have a knack for seeing him at his worst.
“I’m not saying I believe you.” He glared at her, even angrier at the way full moonlight pooled in her eyes and shimmered on the loose waves of her hair. She was everything a man like him wanted to take to bed, but she didn’t want sex. She wanted to ruin his life. To change everything he knew about himself. This woman had no right to do that.
“You don’t have to believe me. I’m sure Emery will be happy to do a DNA test. Your parents are still alive. Do you know what this will mean? You are alive! For twenty-five years everyone thought you were dead. Only Emery had survived. This changes everything.” The echo of his own words on her lips made him suddenly weary. It felt as though he’d been fighting his entire life to understand who he was and why he felt like he’d never belonged here at Walnut Springs and now…now he didn’t know anything.
It wasn’t true. He refused to believe it. Maybe it was a crazy coincidence and he just looked like some rich guy’s brother. That could be it. He and his father had lived here forever; he had never belonged to any other family, or any other place.
“Why is someone trying to kill…” He paused, the name sounded foreign on his tongue. “Emery?” He didn’t want to care, shouldn’t care about a man he didn’t know. That didn’t change the fact that his chest tightened at just the thought of this unknown man being in danger.
Hayden got to her feet and helped him stand. His ankle burned like the devil and he hated that he needed any help to get up. Even in pain, he’d always been able to control himself. Showing weakness in front of this woman turned everything within him inside out.
“We don’t know why, not yet. But the man that kidnapped you and Emery when you were eight is now dead. Emery shot him.”
They’d been walking back toward his trailer but he jerked to a halt. A cold laugh, bullets, an awful screaming in his head.
“Dead?”
“Yes.” She was watching him with a worried expression knitting her brow, as though she expected him to double over again.
“When?” Fenn started moving again, careful to favor his bad ankle. It was time for more beer and more ice.
“Tonight. During the bull-riding competition.”
“They were here?” For some reason, the idea of those two total strangers being so close to him filled him with dread. He didn’t want to know this Emery, didn’t want to face him. It was all just a mistake. He didn’t care about Emery, because Emery wasn’t his brother. This was the truth. He had to convince himself of that, otherwise everything he knew about himself and his life here would burn down around him to nothing more than ashes.
I fought too hard to get where I am. No one can take this life from me, or my memories. This is who I am. Fenn Smith of Walnut Springs. And damn anyone who tries to convince me otherwise.
“No. The attack happened back on Long Island. As of an hour ago Emery was en route to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” His stomach roiled again and he swallowed the rising bile back down. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“Yes. There was apparently a shootout and Emery and his girlfriend were injured. My brother got a call from one of his and Emery’s friends. He told us what happened. The man Emery killed said another would take his place. That’s why I’m here. To take you back before his replacement shows up,” Hayden explained as they climbed back into the trailer.
“Back where?” Either he had a concussion, or he wasn’t following her.
“To Long Island.” She returned to her seat on the bed. Coda hadn’t moved from her position. It wasn’t the first time Fenn had gone outside like that after too many beers.
“Oh, no, honey. I’m not going anywhere.” He picked up the whisky bottle and dug in the freezer for an ice pack, then returned to the bed. He lay back and propped his ankle up and curved the icepack over his injured ankle, wincing as the cold stung. Then he pressed the lip of the whiskey bottle to his mouth and leaned back. The fiery liquid burned going down but he knew it would bring sweet relief to his poor ankle.
“You have to go back.” Hayden tried to reach for the bottle, but he reared back and continued to gulp it down. Only when his head started to spin did she lunge for the bottle again and successfully rip it away from his loosened grasp.
“Well, hell,” he growled, but was too exhausted to move.
Between the pain in his ankle and the pounding headache, he wasn’t going anywhere. His upper body dropped back on the bed and he groaned as his back muscles cramped and protested. The fall tonight was really going to kill him tomorrow when he woke up. He’d be lucky if his only issues were being stiff and sore.
“You should go back into town tonight.” He eyed her speculatively. If she stayed here, he’d be tempted to get her on her back beneath him in a bed, no matter how much his ankle hurt. The woman was too fine a temptation to pass up, and he knew just how to seduce her into his arms. When he’d kissed her earlier, her submission to him, the sweet purring sound she’d made when he’d pinned her against the wall, damn…a perfect woman. He’d never thought he’d find one that made him desperate to tie her down, use his belt to bind her hands to the headboard so he could fuck her to within an inch of her life. He was so lost in his fantasy of what he’d like to do to her with his belt that he realized he hadn’t been listening to whatever she was saying.
“What?” he asked.
She sighed in exasperation. “I’m not going to just leave you. What if someone comes after you?” Her voice sounded so sweet, even when she was angry. The idea of that little firecracker all excited to protect him made a lazy grin stretch his lips.
“Then I’ll take care of it. Problems tend to go away when a man’s looking down the barrel of a Winchester rifle.” He stared up at the trailer ceiling, memorizing the patterns on the peeling wallpaper in an effort to get his mind off bedding little Miss Red Dress.
Jim tried to get him to move back into the main house all the time, but that didn’t feel right. Fenn didn’t own it, and he wasn’t really Jim’s son, so he didn’t feel he had any right to be living in that house anymore. After his father’s death, he’d lived in the house until he turned eighteen, but the trailer on the property was more sensible for a grown man. Things had been fine.
Or they had been until the last few months, when the lender had threatened to foreclose because Jim couldn’t make the mortgage payments. Fenn had told Jim he’d win the cash prize at the rodeo and reinstate the note so he could be an “investor” in the ranch. That was his true dream. He didn’t want to ride bulls forever; he wanted to run a ranch.
Hayden’s voice cut through the relaxing thoughts of running the Broken Spur.
“I’m not letting you out of my sight. I’m staying right here.”
He chuckled, propped his pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
“Suit yourself, honey.” He patted his stomach and Coda shifted on the bed so her head lay across his chest. She nuzzled his hand and licked it. Coda’s quiet, strong presence always made him sleep better. She was part wolf somewhere in all that husky, and he’d raised her from a pup two years ago. Never had a better dog in his life.
“Fine,” Hayden retorted.
The bed dipped on his right, and he rolled his head slightly in that direction and peeked one eye open. Miss Pampered Princess was lying on her side with her back to him, wearing that short little red dress that made his mouth run dry and his cock
hard. The luscious curve from her shoulders down to the valley of her narrow waist, which then flared out over full hips, was a mouthwatering sight. His hands itched to touch her, but he resisted. She was nothing more than a fantasy. Women like her never liked men like him. She was probably dating some polo player, someone like his bro—Emery. He rolled his head back so he was once more facing the ceiling.
Brother. He didn’t have a brother, let alone a twin. He would know, wouldn’t he? A man would have to know if he’d had another family somewhere else. The mere idea of a brother and two parents he didn’t know twisted and tore inside his chest like his heart was embedded with thorns. He closed his eyes again, letting his mind relax, and letting the whisky burn through his veins.
Dreams came swiftly, like tender thieves in the night. Fireflies, always fireflies. The warm kitchen, full of light and life. A little elbow nudging his ribs and a boyish snicker came from beside him. An older woman’s face, full of amusement and a hint of irritation. Light sparkled and winked off the shiny pair of coke bottles in front of him and…another boy. Pain lanced through him, but he couldn’t seem to wake up.
Blood gleamed on the white marble floor. Shattered bottles littered the ground and the sensation of hands around his throat, a violent choking, followed him into darkness.
Chapter 4
Emery Lockwood sat by the hospital bed where the love of his life slept. Last night had been hell on earth. He’d almost lost the woman who’d changed his life, changed him. Sophie Ryder had been shot and stabbed and had barely made it through surgery. He’d been on his knees in the hospital chapel praying to a God he’d long since lost faith in. Hans, his faithful bodyguard of twenty-five years, had remained by his side, head bowed, lips moving without a sound as he prayed.
At four in the morning, Royce Devereaux had come in to the chapel and with an exhausted smile, gave him a little nod and mouthed “she made it.” In that moment, Emery knew he wanted to marry Sophie. The thought of drawing in one more breath without her was impossible. Now he would have her and Fenn.
Fenn was alive. He still couldn’t get over the shock of that. To have carried the burden of his twin’s death on his shoulders for a quarter of a century had nearly killed him. Yet now…he felt free, light enough to fly. His brother, the other half of his living beating heart, was alive.
Cody had called Wes, who’d flown to Colorado yesterday, before Emery had even known his brother was alive. Cody told Wes that they were heading to the hospital and to call Emery with any news the second he had some. It had been eight hours since Wes had known they were at the hospital. Emery wished his friend would call, give him some update. He needed to see Fenn with his own two eyes, needed to hear his brother’s voice. Until he did, he would worry it was all a dream and he’d wake up in the nightmare he’d been living in for the last several years.
Sophie stirred on the bed, and Emery seated himself in the little chair beside her, careful to protect his injured arm. He winced as he adjusted the sling. Sophie had roused just after dawn, but hadn’t been fully awake. She drifted back to sleep, and he sighed. There was no way he could go to Colorado, not when she was lucky to be alive. He’d have to leave his brother there for now and trust that Wes could bring him home safe. With his dying breath, Antonio had warned Emery that another would take his place and finish the job—in other words, kill him and Fenn.
But why? None of it made any sense. Who would gain anything from their deaths? Especially when they had just been boys all those years ago. He’d learned that fateful night when he’d escaped that the ransom demand had been a ruse. The real plan had always been murder.
“Emery?” A whisper pulled him from the dark path his thoughts tread. He looked over his shoulder to find his mother Miranda and his father Elliot standing in the doorway. He eased himself out of the chair and walked toward them.
“Let’s step outside.” He closed the door to Sophie’s room once they were in the hallway.
His mother, a golden-haired, hazel-eyed woman, a feminine mirror of Emery and Fenn, threw her arms around his neck, burying her face as she hugged him.
“She pulled through. I’m so glad…” she whispered. “We feared…but there’s always hope.” Miranda’s eyes welled up with tears. Elliot curled his arms around her protectively.
“Hush, Mandy. Sophie’s going to be fine. Isn’t she?” Even his gruff bear of a father seemed to need to hear him say it as well.
“Yes. Her vitals are good. She came through the surgeries. She’ll recover, but slowly.” He hesitated. Should he tell them the truth now? That their other son wasn’t dead? When Sophie had kept the truth from him he’d hurt her out of anger and sadness, and he could barely forgive himself for that. She’d only kept the truth from him to protect him. If he did the same to his parents…with a little shake of his head, he knew he couldn’t do it. They had every right to know what he knew.
“Mother, Father, I have something to tell you. I only learned of it last night. But if I tell you, you both have to promise to stay here at the hospital. Do nothing, tell no one, until I tell you it’s safe. Do you understand?”
He clasped his mother’s hands in his and waited for her to agree. She tilted her head up, studying her husband’s face. Elliot gave her a small nod.
“We promise,” she said.
Emery drew in a slow breath and then exhaled it, hating the way his entire body trembled. For so long he’d wanted Fenn to be alive, and he’d wanted to tell them this, but he’d never thought he’d get the chance. Here he was, terrified and excited and having trouble breathing.
“Son, what is it?” Elliot asked.
“Fenn is alive.”
His mother’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Sophie found him. He’s alive.” Even though he kept saying it, he still was afraid to believe it himself.
“But you told us that he was dead…”
“I thought he was. I heard a shot, felt the pain in my head…but he survived.” Emery raked a hand through his hair, tugging so hard on the strands that the bite of pain kept him grounded.
“My boy’s alive?” Elliot whispered in a half-broken voice. “I just can’t—” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Emery nodded, praying the news would sink in.
Miranda’s eyes rolled back into her head as she fainted dead away. If Elliot hadn’t been waiting to catch her, she might have collapsed onto the floor. Emery’s father cradled Miranda’s body, then slowly raised his face to stare at Emery.
“Alive…” The rough way it escaped Elliot’s lips made Emery’s throat close.
It was so easy to forget that he wasn’t the only person who’d suffered because of Fenn’s loss. He’d lost his twin, his other half. Elliot and Miranda had lost their son. The grief was different, but the depth was the same as his own.
“How is this possible?” His father demanded, his voice a little stronger now.
Placing a hand on his father’s shoulder, Emery sighed. “I’ll tell you everything.” It was a promise he’d never thought he’d make or want to keep. Now he would fulfill it.
Chapter 5
There was nothing better in the world than waking up with a beautiful woman in your arms. Fenn hadn’t had a woman in weeks so this was obviously a dream. There was no way he’d managed to bag a woman like this last night…
He eyed her red dress skeptically. Everything from last night came back in a painful rush. He shoved it all back and focused on the woman currently molded to his body. Coda was asleep on the floor by the door of the trailer, where she always stayed vigilant at night. When the dog left the bed, the little red-haired temptress had wormed her way across the sheets over to his side. They were spooning. He’d never seen the appeal before, but now he definitely did. It was hard to beat the feeling of a woman’s full curves snug against his body. His cock certainly agreed. He was hard enough to pound nails into walls. Despite the pain in his skull, he managed to grin.
He needed to enjoy this for
all it was worth before she woke up. The way her perfect, rounded bottom fit against his groin had him imaging how fun it would be to take her just like this, from behind. All he’d have to do was hike her dress up over her hips…His cock strained at his jeans and the sensation, while uncomfortable, was still good, even if he desperately needed release. Her head rested on the pillow formed by his outstretched arm. His other hand firmly cupped one of her breasts.
Even though there was a barrier of clothing between his skin and hers, the touch was intimate and he knew without a doubt she’d be furious when she woke up. Fenn gave her breast a little squeeze and bit back a laugh at the way she sighed and wriggled against him. One of her hands reached back and gripped his hip, trying to pull him closer to her. He swallowed a groan of need. This woman was going to be the death of him.
Tempted by the delicate shell of her ear, he leaned down and kissed it. The strawberry scent of her hair mixed with the faint scent of her natural aroma was like a cocktail of sin and wicked perfection. He licked her ear, and she came to life in his arms with a breathless sigh and a little nod of encouragement.
“Don’t stop.” Her words were barely above a whisper.
Fenn smiled. She was probably dreaming. Serves her right, the little hellion.
He kneaded the mound of her breast and nibbled her earlobe. She bit her lip and arched her back, which thrust her breast into his hand and her bottom against his cock. Damn, the woman knew just how to move. She was a fantasy. His fantasy. His hand slid from her breast to her hip, then to her bare thigh.
God, he wanted to get his hands between her legs, touch the heated wetness that had to be building in her. She was flushed, that delicate white skin warming to a tender pink with her arousal. Fenn tiptoed his fingers from her outer thigh to her inner thigh and she shifted, opening her legs for him.
“Wake up, honey,” he murmured in her ear.
As much as he wanted to take advantage, he wasn’t really that much of a bastard. When he took a woman, he wanted her awake and willing…and to be honest, he wanted her begging for him to fuck her. As her light brown lashes fluttered and her lips parted, Fenn was flooded with a thousand desires. He wanted to twine rope around Hayden’s wrists and restrain her to a bed so he could torture her with endless pleasure-filled orgasms. He wanted to chase her and bring her down and pin her beneath him, demanding her surrender.