Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  “One more trip, I think.” Stella hefted one last large box and stumbled into the hall. “See if you can manage that suitcase.”

  Stella couldn’t see in front of her, but the sound of crickets let her know the front door was wide open.

  “Stella?”

  She set down the box, grateful for a male voice. Her father.

  “Yeah, Dad?”

  He blocked the doorway, slightly stooped, looking every one of his fifty years and then some. “So soon?”

  “Yeah. I gotta go.”

  Janine came up behind her and stopped abruptly.

  Her father turned his felt hat in endless circles, gnarled fingers pinched and red. “I wish you wouldn’t go.”

  Stella picked the box back up. “I’m all grown up. Time to leave the nest.”

  He moved aside as she barreled toward him with the box. By the time she had shoved the carton in the backseat and returned, he’d moved back to his recliner.

  But when she passed the living room with her last load of bags, the TV remained dark. The dim reflection of her father in the screen didn’t move or look her way. Stella paused, trying to think of something else to say, a good memory maybe, a trite farewell, but eventually gave up and just walked on by.

  *

  “That was close,” Janine said when they were closed up in the car. “I guess your mother is still at Angie’s.”

  “No doubt talking to her church biddies about how I wrecked the funeral.” Stella backed out of the driveway. She refused to look out at the yard where she’d once jumped rope with her sister. It was done.

  “So what now?” Janine reached down to flip on the radio. When Air Supply’s “I’m All Out of Love” came on, she immediately shut it off again.

  “I guess find Dane.” Stella turned onto Main to head toward Renters’ Row. “Kill time until I can stop by Grandma’s to pick up a few things.”

  “So this is really it?” Janine wouldn’t look at her, fixed on the darkened windows of the shuttered businesses.

  Stella slowed in front of Good Scents. She hoped Beatrice understood that she had to leave now. God, she should say good-bye. But she couldn’t bring herself to watch even one more sunrise over Holly.

  She reached in front of Janine and fished a set of keys out of the glove compartment. “Give these to Beatrice tomorrow, will you? The shop keys.”

  Janine took them. “Okay.”

  Stella sped up and turned onto Dane’s street. “This part sucks.”

  They pulled up to the duplex, but everything was dark.

  “I don’t think he’s here,” Janine said.

  “Figures.” Stella killed the motor. “I guess I’ll make sure.”

  Her tennis shoes sunk into the mushy dirt as she walked up to the door. What was he doing? Why hadn’t he at least waited to say something to her? Good luck, maybe? Or thanks for nothing?

  She knocked, waited, and knocked again. The wind kicked up. Fall was reestablishing its presence after the warm day. She shivered in her cropped shirt and tried to cover the one bare shoulder of her pink halter as she headed back to the car.

  “We’re early, you know,” Janine said. “He might be here when we said, in another hour.”

  Stella plunked into the seat and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. “I can’t just sit here.”

  “Let’s see if they’ve left Angie’s,” Janine said. “We could hang out there and pick up the things you wanted.”

  “Yeah. I want the Mathis records. An address book. Some little things.”

  She started the car again and headed back to the center of town. Cars were pulling into the Watering Hole.

  “Hey,” Janine said. “Isn’t that Ryker?”

  Stella slowed and peered at the parking lot. Sure enough, Ryker was heading into the bar. She jerked on the wheel and pulled into a spot.

  “Don’t park by the road,” Janine said. “Your mother.”

  “Right.” Stella backed up again and cruised through the lot, hiding the Mustang behind a jacked-up truck.

  Janine blew a rush of air out. “I don’t think we should go in there.”

  Stella tugged the keys from the ignition. “I know. Nothing but trouble here before.”

  “Maybe we could wait out here?”

  “We don’t even know if Dane is in there.” Stella opened her door.

  They picked their way across the rough lot, asphalt kicked up in places, toward the noise and light. Janine suddenly halted.

  “What is it?” Stella asked.

  “That motorcycle,” Janine said. “Is it Dane’s?”

  They approached it, partly hidden behind a shrub at the back corner of the bar. “Yeah,” Stella said. “That’s it.”

  “Now I really think we shouldn’t go in.” Janine didn’t look like she was going to take another step.

  Stella tugged on her arm. “I need to know what this is about. What Dane’s planning to do.”

  Janine stepped forward hesitantly. “This could be a bad scene.” She pointed across the lot.

  Stella turned around. Bobby Ray’s battered pickup was unmistakable in canary yellow. She let go of Janine and raced to the door.

  21

  Machismo

  ––––––––

  “WHAT the hell are you doing in here?” Ryker slid into a chair opposite him. “You got a death wish?”

  Dane shoved the empty beer bottle away. “Not much into skulking out of town in the night.” He’d figured Ryker would show even if he hid the bike.

  “So you not going?”

  “Yes, I’m going. Just not interested in looking like a coward.”

  A waitress appeared, and Ryker pointed at Dane’s bottle. “Times two.” When she left, he said, “I know that bullshit look in your eye.” He jerked his head toward the bar. “And nobody misses that yellow piece of shit that Bobby Ray drives.”

  “I’m not looking for a fight.”

  “You’re going to get one.” Ryker waved across the bar. “Damn it all if Darlene isn’t here too. What is it, a reunion?”

  “I’m popular,” Dane muttered. He’d positioned himself with his back to the corner for a reason. Couldn’t have any of Bobby Ray’s weasels sticking him from behind again. He knew it was stupid to come, but he wasn’t up for looking chickenshit. Not if he was taking off. Ryker should appreciate that. He’d still be here. “I’m only thinking of you, brother,” he said.

  The girl came back with the beers, and Ryker tossed some bills on her tray. He handed one to Dane. “Here’s to a clean getaway,” he said and clicked his bottle against Dane’s. “Not that I expect it.”

  Dane tugged at the corner of the label. The burly woman bartender was gone, and in her place was a skinny old man, more than happy to hover beneath the girls who took turns gyrating on the broad counter.

  “So if we finish this round, I can get you out of here, right?” Ryker asked.

  Dane kicked back his chair, rocking on two legs. “Brother, you are entirely too uptight.” He checked his watch. “It’s a good half hour until Stella will be back.”

  “Maybe I’m sentimental with good-byes.”

  Dane remembered the last time they’d parted, right after their mother’s funeral. Ryker had taken it harder than Dane’d figured. Seemed to feel like he’d deserted her. Dane hadn’t done much better, even though he’d lived in the same town. He rarely saw her, just picked up a few groceries occasionally and took them over. She hadn’t wanted any fuss.

  His eye caught a bit of peacock blue going in the air, and he shifted just enough to see Darlene stepping up on the bar to dance beside the other girl. She turned his direction and lifted a piece of her denim skirt to show him a long length of thigh.

  Bobby Ray turned around to see who his sister was strutting for and glared hard at Dane.

  Ryker groaned. “And here we go.”

  22

  Stella’s Arrival

  ––––––––

  STELLA opened the
door to a blast of sound. Bottles clinked, and the smell of stale beer made her think instantly of home and the endless TV trays of empties her father built up before Vivian could clear them out.

  Damn, you’d think she was homesick. She clutched tight to Janine, taking a step toward the long counter, trying to ignore the girls dancing on it—someone was always up there shaking their hips. It was a town tradition, Holly’s lowbrow debutante dance. She’d done it more than once. She scanned the tables. She saw Ryker first, and when he shifted his head, Dane. She was about to lunge forward when Janine held her firm. She followed his line of sight back to the bar, and then she noticed.

  Darlene. Pulling up the hem of her skirt to show off for Dane.

  Stella wasn’t sure who to be pissed at. Him or her. But she couldn’t keep the rage going, all the energy draining down into despair. She wouldn’t even see Dane again. Not ever. She’d have to leave town without him.

  Stella’s legs wouldn’t work. Dane was worth more than this. She couldn’t just walk away without a good-bye. If it didn’t go well, she would leave him to Darlene. She wouldn’t let the end of their love affair stop her from leaving. Just another kick in the butt on the way out the door.

  She straightened up, covertly sliding the triple-strand bracelet off her wrist and dropping it into her bag. He’d never known about it, and now she was glad. Nobody should know what a fool she had been.

  Stella stared up at the girls, then back down at Dane, trying to figure out how to get him alone for a second, see what he was thinking. He picked up a bottle, scanned the bar, and saw her. He froze, his beer in the air.

  23

  Dane Steps In

  ––––––––

  DANE felt like a two-ton gorilla lumbering across the bar. Damn it all if Stella wouldn’t show up right then. “I thought you were packing.”

  “I finished. What are you doing here?”

  Janine jumped between them. “We got done early. We went looking for you.”

  He could tell Stella was pissed. Her friend was trying to run interference. Damn it all.

  Stella pushed away from the counter. “Looks like you’re already entertained. I’ll be on my way.”

  Dane yanked her toward him. “I had nothing to do with her dancing on this bar. I couldn’t care less.”

  “Didn’t look that way to me.”

  “Woman, you have bad timing.”

  “And you have bad judgment.”

  He did. He knew it. But he couldn’t say it, not with the whole bar watching. So he kissed her instead, hoping he could calm her down, convince her that Darlene’s dancing was her doing, not his. He’d begun to think the whole thing was planned, waiting on some opportunity like tonight to play out.

  The jukebox fired up Eddie Rabbitt’s “The Best Year of My Life.” Stella cocked her head at him, and Dane knew he had to make this right, show her that Darlene meant nothing. He grasped her slender waist and hoisted her up to sit on the bar. “I’d much rather look at you,” he said. “Will you dance for me?”

  She sat there a moment, unsure. He pulled her knees apart and squeezed in tight against her. “You’ll be the one everyone remembers.”

  Stella pushed him back, half smiling. “We are the couple everyone likes to talk about.” She whipped her feet around and planted her sneakers on the bar to stand.

  Dane could see the other girls in his peripheral vision, but still never turned his head. Stella watched him, shuffling her feet to the driving rhythm of the song. Janine sat on a barstool, looking worried. Bobby Ray must still be close, hovering, as she couldn’t break her gaze from something just over his shoulder. He remembered the prick of the knife and wondered if he shouldn’t avoid having his back to the man, but surely in a bar this crowded, Bobby Ray wouldn’t try anything stupid.

  The song rolled to its conclusion, and Stella stopped dancing. He could see she was done and raised his hands to help her down. Her eyes widened, but before Dane could determine why, he was abruptly shoved aside and knocked to the floor. Bobby Ray grinned down at him and snatched at Stella, grasping her around the knees and bringing her down.

  Stella screamed just as Dane bounced right back up and jerked on Bobby Ray’s arm to let her go. The moment Stella was free, he landed a beefy uppercut to Bobby Ray’s jaw. Bobby Ray stumbled back for a moment, then grinned like this was what he had wanted all along. Everyone in the bar backed away, and Dane stood his ground, waiting for Bobby Ray’s next move.

  The man lurched forward, trying to knock a blow into Dane’s belly, but Dane darted aside, grasping Bobby Ray’s arm and twisting it under. Bobby Ray pulled loose and whipped around to knock a lucky shot straight into Dane’s nose. Blood dripped from his face, but he simply wiped it on the back of his hand, sidestepping in a circle around Bobby Ray, deciding where to land the next punch.

  Bobby Ray laughed. “You got a little something—on your face.” When he turned to see if his cohorts were noticing his success, Dane rushed forward, plowing into Bobby Ray and taking him to the ground. A chair fell aside, splintering, and Dane knocked three hard shots into Bobby Ray’s face before rolling off him. Surely the boy would be done after that. Dane was ready to walk away, and he didn’t give a flying fuck what any of them might say.

  He turned to Stella, who was white-faced, fear in her eyes. “Let’s go,” he said. She pointed behind him, and he turned to see Bobby Ray charging at him again. This boy was no match. Why couldn’t he see that? Dane stepped aside once more, but Bobby Ray managed to adjust and attempt a light blow to his side.

  Dane grabbed his arm and, while he had it, clipped Bobby Ray in the side of the head, then wrapped his arm around his neck, bending him over so he could shove a knee in his belly and knock him to the ground again.

  “Dane! This has to stop!” Stella shouted.

  He took in the room, the drunk girls and their boyfriends standing around, looking horrified or amused. The bartender, phone to his ear, no doubt calling the cops. Shit. They had to get out of town. He reached his hand out for Stella. “Time, Stella, now or never.”

  In the corner of his eye, he saw Bobby Ray get up, pulling on the legs of a barstool, then lifting the heavy wood base over his head. Good grief. The man hurtled forward, his aim as bad as the other two charges, and Dane snagged the leg of the barstool and yanked it toward him. They wrangled over it for a moment, then Dane switched tactics and, instead of pulling at it, shoved it hard back at Bobby Ray, smacking the edge of the seat into Bobby Ray’s nose.

  He hadn’t realized how sharp the blow had been until he heard, seconds after it happened, the gasp of the bystanders, and the world went in slow motion, Bobby Ray’s eyes rolling up into his head. They both let go of the stool, and Bobby Ray fell back. Dane knocked the stool aside and tried to catch him as he went down, breaking his fall so his head wouldn’t crash against the floor.

  “I’ve called the po-lice,” the bartender said. “Y’all best chill it out now.”

  Stella dashed up to Dane, hands around his arm, pulling him back. “Let’s go now,” she said. “They can sort this out.” She dragged him through the crowd toward the door. Dane glanced back. Darlene had her brother’s head in her lap. Blood streamed from his nose, and now, out his ears. It looked bad. He’d lost it. Really fucked that boy up. And over what? A bar dance. A chickenshit show of two rutting bucks.

  The whine of an ambulance grew louder as they headed to Dane’s bike. “They’ll take care of him,” Stella said. “He’ll be all right.”

  Janine showed up with Stella’s purse. She was crying.

  “Hush, Janine,” Stella said. “Bobby Ray was asking for a fight.”

  Dane had nothing to say. He swung his leg over the Harley and jumped on the kick-starter. Stella took the purse from Janine. “Take my car,” she told her. She got on behind Dane, and he relaxed a little, feeling her tucked close behind him. They were getting away, out of this town, far from the damn scene inside the bar.

  The ambulance pulled in
as they roared out, paramedics hopping from the back to drop a stretcher from the doors. Dane figured the police would come for him eventually, disorderly conduct for sure, probably assault. God damn it.

  He headed straight out of town. The Harley would lead them somewhere, at least for that night.

  24

  Motorcycle Ride

  ––––––––

  STELLA tried to let the wind blow the memory of the last half hour from her mind. Her arms encircled Dane, the leather jacket scrunching inside the crook of her elbows. She inhaled. Oil and aftershave. Hint of the leather. It calmed her.

  The bike raced forward, out of the parking lot and into the street. They passed the courthouse, the convenience store where the creepy guy once plotted to flash her, the grocery where Janine sacked and worried about getting sacked, the perfume shop, and then out, beyond the town, along the highway heading to nowhere, everywhere that wasn’t here.

  The wind tore at her hair, ripping through the perfect bangs and tangling the ends. Stella laid her cheek on Dane’s shoulder blade, watching the trees whiz by, tall and majestic, the smell of pine overwhelming everything. She felt reckless, drunk, totally out of control.

  Dane turned off the highway and onto a dirt road, slowing down as they bounced hard in the ruts. Stella knew the way. Ahead was a bridge, but you could take a side path and come right up on the river itself. The fork approached, and she tapped Dane’s shoulder, pointing toward it. He turned, and the cone of light cut through the dark as they left the open road and moved into dense forest.

  The motorcycle clipped the brush as they roared down the little-used path. Dane slowed, but Stella tapped him again, yelling, “Creek just ahead.”

  “Should we stop?”

  She nodded against his back.

  He pulled up just short of the drop-off and killed the motor. The creek gurgled below. Moonlight crossed the trees and glittered on the whitecaps below, rocks jutting through the stream.