by Lauren Smith
Fenn had always been a dominant lover, but there was something about Hayden—the way she pushed him, defied him. He wanted to dominate her that much more. Not break her, never that, but the fire she possessed, especially toward him, fueled his own arousal beyond anything he’d ever felt. The need to brand her as his was overpowering.
Hell, he wanted to fight with her just so he could experience make-up sex. The thought stilled him. Make-up sex? He didn’t even know this woman, let alone want to be in a relationship with her. Showing up on his doorstep in heels and a killer dress, spouting crazy nonsense about a family he didn’t have—she was trouble.
Yeah, I don’t need this kind of trouble.
“Honey, you’ve got to wake up.” He rubbed his hand along her thigh, getting dangerously close to where he wanted to be, between those beautiful, shapely legs.
“Barroooo!” Coda’s lonesome howl and the scraping of her nails on the cheap trailer floor had him bolting upright.
“What?” Hayden sat up, too, and smacked her head into his chin.
“Son of a bi—” He cursed but the word died on his tongue as the trailer door flew open.
Coda shot down the steps out of view, barking excitedly.
“What the fuck is going on here?” A booming voice reverberated throughout the trailer. A tall, red-haired man stood just inside, staring at them, blue eyes flashing.
“Wes?” Hayden climbed off the bed, running her fingers through her tangle of strawberry-colored hair.
Fenn was momentarily distracted by the way hints of gold gleamed amid the red, like condensed sunlight was trapped in the strands.
“Get out of here right now, Hayden.” The red-haired man jabbed a finger toward the door. Hayden did as she was told, but Fenn could hear her frantic whispers from just outside the trailer, where the two had retreated
Fenn didn’t feel remotely threatened. He leaned back in his bed, folded his arms behind his head and grinned smugly. Moments later the intruder stalked right up to the edge of Fenn's bed, fire and brimstone threatening in his gaze.
“Sorry, man, you have to keep a tighter leash on your girlfriend. She came to me.”
The man, who was wearing an expensive suit, dove for him, cobalt blue eyes sparking…blue eyes like…Hayden’s—
The punch caught him right in the jaw. His head exploded with searing pain and he grunted as the other man landed on him.
“That’s my sister, you piece of shit!”
Fenn landed a blow on the man’s cheek, then tucking up his good leg kicked the other man square in the chest.
“Stop!” Hayden’s enraged shout barely penetrated the haze around Fenn as he rose from the bed and lunged for the other man. Grappling and swiping at each other, they bounced off the fridge and the cabinets before they reached the open doorway.
The pit in his stomach dropped out as they fell through the doorway and hit the dirt with pained groans. Rather than let go of adrenaline-fused anger, he and Wes kept pummeling each other.
The sound of a gunshot stilled them both. Fenn had Wes pinned down and Wes gripped Fenn’s balled fist where he’d just caught it a second before.
“I leave you alone for a couple of nights and I come back to find you fighting with someone like a pair of stray tomcats?” Jim Taylor’s voice cracked like a whip.
Both Fenn and Wes turned to look at the battered old blue pickup truck that had just pulled up behind the pair of brand new Jeep Wranglers. Jim had opened the driver’s side door and was standing on the footrail, a shotgun hanging loose over one arm. Callie scurried out of her side of the truck and ran over to them. She balked when she saw Hayden standing a little to the side, still wearing nothing but her tiny red dress. The look of utter devastation in Callie’s eyes killed Fenn, but she had to grow up and quit mooning over him like a lovesick calf sometime.
“Hey Jim,” Fenn smiled, showing all his teeth like a wolf.
Jim continued to frown. “Don’t you ‘Hey Jim’ me, son. Get up and dust yourself off and help your friend there.” Jim gestured to Wes, whose gaze was fixed on Callie. There was a fascinated, almost predatory gleam in his eyes.
Fenn rose from the ground and smacked his jeans, sending small puffs of brown dirt in the air before he helped Wes to his feet. He pulled the other man close, feigning to help him dust off his fancy suit.
“Touch Callie and I rip your balls off,” he warned.
Wes cocked one brow. “Touch my sister and you meet the same fate.”
They both nodded grimly before turning to Jim.
Jim Taylor was fifty-nine, with gray hair and skin made leathery from years of working outdoors. His well-toned body was only slightly worn with age. He was a man who had lived and worked hard, building the Broken Spur from the ground up. A man to be respected. He sauntered over to them, a disappointed frown forging creases on his brow.
“Jim Taylor.” He held out his hand to Wes.
Wes shook it immediately. “Wes Thorne. I apologize for the behavior you witnessed.” He wiped his mouth where a small line of blood on his split lip had started to trail down his chin. Fenn smirked, but then winced as he licked his own lips, tasting blood. He touched his mouth with his fingertips. A few places stung at the contact, but it seemed well worth it. He’d been spoiling for a fight after losing last night at the arena.
“And who is this?” Jim’s focus slid to Hayden. She tiptoed forward on bare feet and held out her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Taylor. I’m Hayden Thorne. I’m sorry for all the trouble.” She shot a scathing glance at Wes and Fenn. It didn’t bother Fenn, though. He merely shrugged. Self-defense and all that.
“And Mr. Thorne is your…husband?” Jim guessed.
“Brother,” Wes and Hayden replied in unison in that uncanny way siblings often could when the occasion presented itself.
“Ahh yeah. I can see the resemblance, now that you mention it. Why don’t you both go inside? We’ll get ice for the men and figure out a civilized way to settle whatever matter had you two brawling like bears. Sound good?”
Jim didn’t wait for a response. He marched toward the main house, shotgun resting on one shoulder. Callie walked over to Hayden, smiling tentatively as she introduced herself. Then the two girls followed Jim.
Fenn stayed where he was. His ankle ached, but the ice pack last night had been a vastly effective treatment against the swelling. He was still barefoot on his bandaged leg. Wes was studying him, his dark blue eyes sweeping over him from head to toe.
“This was not how I pictured meeting you after all these years,” Wes said, a rueful smile on his lips. “But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You’re still the Fenn I once knew.”
The fine hairs on Fenn’s neck rose as he really studied the man beside him.
“Flick your wrist, like this.” The strawberry blond-haired boy stood barefoot in the shadows of the pond. Noonday sun beat down around them as Fenn practiced flicking his wrist like the other boy. The stones in their palms skipped along the surface of the water, leaving momentary circular impact spots in shrinking patterns as they sank out of view.
“Better,” the other boy grinned, and his cobalt blue eyes were rich and deep like the Atlantic Ocean. They were eyes he knew, eyes that sparked with mischief and trust and the utterly complete devotion found only in friendships forged by young children.
Fenn blinked. The flash of that image—the sound of bees buzzing, the aroma of fresh-cut grass, and the glowing surge of hope—was slow to fade.
Hope; that fickle emotion he’d lost faith in so long ago.
“I—” He shook his head. He was imagining things, fanciful things. This was all because he’d drunk too much last night after Hayden had shown him those pictures on her phone: a life that wasn’t his, a life he couldn’t remember.
“You really don’t remember?” Hurt deepened the blue of Wes’s eyes even more before he glanced away. Something tightened in Fenn’s chest and for a second he couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry,” he muttered, not sure why he felt compelled to say that, but he did.
Wes chuckled, but without mirth. “I suppose part of me hoped you’d suddenly remember after seeing me…but I guess not.” He swept his palms over his gray suit coat, removing more dirt that had dusted his clothes.
“I’m not who you think I am,” Fenn said quietly as they both started to walk toward the house. He tried his damnedest not to favor his right ankle, but he couldn’t hide his small limp.
“No. You’re not at all what I thought you’d be, but you’re still the man I’ve come to find.” Wes left that hanging in the air between them as they ascended the steps. Wes led and Fenn hobbled up behind.
Inside the house, Callie and Hayden clustered around Jim in the open kitchen, clucking and fussing like hens. Jim blushed and swatted their feminine hands away.
“Dad, you need to sit down and rest,” Callie growled like a protective mother wolf.
“Really, Mr. Taylor, heart attacks are serious,” Hayden agreed, and Fenn saw her and Callie exchange meaningful glances. It seemed the girls had decided to become friends. Not that that surprised him in the least. Callie was sweet, lively and quick to trust. Hayden—well, she seemed to have a “take no prisoners” personality, and Fenn figured that if she decided to be your friend you were better off accepting it rather than fighting it.
“Somebody come and save me,” Jim demanded, but a thin layer of pleading in his tone made both Fenn and Wes laugh.
Fenn hobbled over to the kitchen table and took a seat beside Jim. It felt good to rest his ankle. A scuffle and a bout of fisticuffs hadn’t been the wisest idea.
Callie retrieved a first aid kit from a cabinet beneath the sink and slid past Wes in order to bring the supplies closer to the table. A flush crept through her cheeks and she made a point of not looking at Wes. Fenn narrowed his eyes as Wes swept his gaze over Callie again. That situation would bear watching.
“Now, let’s talk. What was that about outside?” Jim asked as he set his shotgun on the table. Leave it to Jim to make his threats clear without having to say anything.
“I think it’s better if we start from the beginning.” Hayden tugged her dress down her thighs as she dropped into an empty chair.
Brother and sister shared a look, and then Wes gave her a slight nod and she continued.
“Do you remember the Lockwood kidnapping on Long Island about twenty-five years ago?”
Jim leaned back in his chair. “Remember? Who could forget? Everyone was terrified of men climbing into nurseries to steal children for at least a year following the kidnapping. It was all over the national papers for weeks.”
Hayden cleared her throat and avoided looking at anyone except Jim. “So you remember that twins named Emery and Fenn were kidnapped. Fenn was never found and everyone assumed he was dead.”
Jim ran a hand along his jaw. “Okay…” Suddenly his pupils dilated and he angled his head toward Fenn. “I only ever saw one picture of that other boy, but it never occurred to me when Fenn showed up here a few months later that…You don’t think that…” He didn’t finish.
“We’re positive. I have all of the articles and pictures on my phone. I can show you.” Hayden answered his unspoken question.
“I’ve already told you that I’m not him. My father and I have lived here for as long as I can remember,” Fenn argued.
Hayden ignored him. “Mr. Taylor, we were sent here by Emery, Fenn’s brother. It’s crucial that we get him back to Long Island where he can be protected.”
“Protected?” Callie’s brow furrowed as she lifted a cotton swab doused in antiseptic and touched Wes’s mouth. The man didn’t flinch as she tended to him, but he reached up and shackled her wrist—not stopping her, only keeping hold.
“Fenn’s in danger. The original kidnapping all those years ago was orchestrated as a fake ransom situation. The real goal was to kill the twins. An assassin hired two other men to help him with the kidnapping and the murder. Only recently that assassin resurfaced to finish the job. Emery walked away, but barely. Right before the killer died, he confessed another would take his place, and he knew where Fenn was.” Hayden finally turned her focus to Fenn. “It’s how we finally found you. Emery’s friend was able to get some computer files copied from the assassin’s laptop. They had pictures of you, your bull-riding information and school information, even though you grew up here under the name Fenn Smith. The man who raised you never changed your first name.”
“The man who raised me? You mean my father?” Fenn bristled and smacked his fist on the table.
“Calm down,” Jim warned.
“No! I’m not listening to this. Jim, you know me. Tell them I’m not some East Coast brat. I’ve been here all my life.” Fenn was on his feet, ignoring the rush of pain in his ankle.
Jim waved a hand, indicating for him to sit back down.
“Fenn, you didn’t come to Walnut Springs until you were eight. No one ever heard where you were from before that. Your father kept his life private. I met him at the local diner and heard he needed work, so he was an easy hire as a ranch hand. But to be honest…Lewis always struck me as off. He didn’t act like a father. For a man whose wife had supposedly died, he seemed awkward with his own child; he didn’t seem to really know what to do with you. Most men have some sort of paternal instincts kick in when they have a child. Lewis was just as lost with you as he was with himself. He was a drifter and never seemed to trust anyone. I always wondered about you, figured you had to take after your mother because you sure as hell didn’t take after like Lewis.”
Hayden pulled out her phone and queued up the photos. “Mr. Taylor, these are pictures of Emery and Fenn. Tell me you don’t honestly believe he’s not Fenn Lockwood.”
Callie abandoned her nurse duties and leaned over her father’s shoulder so she could see the pictures. Her lips parted and she flicked her gaze up to Fenn’s before dropping her focus back to the photos.
“I have to admit, he’s a dead ringer for this other man.”
“Can you run a DNA test?” Callie asked.
Hayden nodded. “Yes, if Fenn is willing to do it.”
With a dark scowl, Jim pointed a finger at him. “Listen to me, boy. You’re gonna take the damn test. If you have another family out there, you need to know. More importantly, they need to know.”
Fenn clenched the edges of the wooden table until his knuckles were white. Did no one understand what he was going through? His whole world was crumbling to dust around him. His belief in who he was as a person was fracturing like cracks across the surface of a mirror. A thousand new faces seemed to be staring back at him, forcing him to consider that the life he had lived up until now was an absolute lie.
“I’ll take the test. But that’s it. I’m not going back with anyone to Long Island. I don’t want whatever is there. My life is here.” He got up from the table and then stalked out of the kitchen. Any conversation about him being Fenn Lockwood was over as far as he was concerned.
Chapter 6
That went well,” Wes grumbled and touched his wounded, now slightly swollen lip.
“He’s having a tough time accepting the truth,” Hayden countered. “We pretty much ambushed him. Try to think about what he is going through. Everything he knows about his present life is a lie.”
“It’s not a lie,” Callie spoke up, her face flushed. “He’s lived a good life here. A different last name doesn’t mean anything. He’s still the same person.”
A sense of curiosity filled Hayden. She really liked Callie, especially how despite her youth she had a good grasp of understanding people.
“I agree with you.” Hayden drew a fingertip along the rough surface of the wood table. “I just worry that he feels like it’s a lie and that exploring his past and any future with his family will feel like a betrayal of the people he’s grown up with.”
Jim exhaled heavily. “He’s part of our family, and he can’t just get rid of us
no matter what. If he has other family, that’s wonderful. He won’t ever lose us.”
Inside her chest, Hayden’s heart did a little flip. These people loved Fenn, loved him as much as his family back home did. It was a small comfort to think that he hadn’t been truly alone all these years, suffering in a life that wasn’t his. The Taylor family had claimed him, whether he wanted to admit that or not. He was a part of their lives and for that Hayden was grateful. After everything he’d been through, he deserved to have been loved by such good people.
Callie rested her hands on her father’s shoulders. “Why don’t you both stay here at the house until we convince Fenn to go back with you?”
Hayden opened her mouth. “Oh, we don’t have to—”
Wes cut her off. “Thank you, we’d love to.”
Lowering her brows, Hayden couldn’t conceal the look of surprise she flashed her brother. What was he playing at? Wes always acted through moves and countermoves, as if life was a fascinating game of chess. If he wanted them to stay at the ranch there was definitely some reason; she just wished she knew what it was.
“You look like you could use a shower, Hayden. If you want, you can use mine. I’ve got clothes, too…” Callie’s cheeks pinked as if she seemed to realize she might have sounded rude.
“Thanks.” Hayden offered her new friend a smile, hoping it would reassure her. “That would be great.” She got up from her chair and glanced at Wes. “Will you get our bags from the motel?”
“Yes. I’ll be back soon.” He shook hands with Jim before fishing his keys from his trouser pocket and heading out the door.
“Come on, Hayden. I’ll take you upstairs.” Callie led her up the stairs.