Stud for Hire

by Sabrina York

  It was like smacking cement, but her blow must have hit its mark.

  His eyes crossed and he wheezed out a pained breath and slumped down on top of her.

  She knew she didn’t have much time. If he recovered himself, he would be an enraged bull. She needed to get out of the truck and into the woods before he could follow.

  But he was heavy.

  And he lay on top of her.

  She reached behind her head and unlocked the door, pulled the handle, and let herself fall.

  Hell, she didn’t care. All she wanted, all she needed, was to get away.

  As she slipped from the truck onto the hard ground, he slumped with her as well, though the bulk of his body was still braced on the bench seat. She wriggled away, despite his grasping, flailing hands.

  “Goddamn-b-bitch!” he snarled. “Come back here.”

  Come back here?

  Not. A. Fucking. Chance.

  Hanna lurched up to her feet and scanned the woods. And then sprinted for cover.

  The ground was hard on her bare feet. Sticks and rocks and ruts gouged at her, but she didn’t stop. She launched herself into the brush and ran. She ran and ran, until she had no more breath.

  Then she dropped into a gully and hid under a leafy bush.

  She could hear him snarling and swearing and bellowing as he hunted for her.

  Eventually the sounds abated. But it wasn’t until she heard him start the truck and spin away, and perhaps long after that, that she emerged and made her labored way back to the highway, skirting the road near the brush in case he came back.

  Though she was battered and ravaged and tired beyond belief, though tears coursed down her cheeks, one emotion reigned supreme.

  Relief.

  Relief that she’d escaped, certainly. But something deeper still.

  She was not marrying Zack Pucey.

  Not if the fate of the world depended upon it.

  As for her father and his debt . . . she’d worry about that tomorrow.

  ***

  It was dark by the time she reached the long drive of the family ranch. Though joy swept through her at the sight of the familiar house in the distance, every muscle ached. And though she longed to reach those welcoming lights in the distance, she moved slowly. Her feet were cut and bleeding and each step was a trial.

  Oh, why hadn’t she thought to slip on some shoes before she left her bedroom at Cody’s place? Of course, she hadn’t expected she’d be walking miles back home.

  She hadn’t thought to grab her cell phone either.

  And though the occasional car had passed her on the road, she hadn’t wanted to wave one down, with her shirt ripped open as it was.

  God knew, she didn’t want to jump from the frying pan into the fire.

  And she certainly didn’t want Zack to find her.

  So whenever she heard an engine approach, she left the road and hunkered in the brush until it passed. As a result, it had taken her all day to make it this far. She was tired, thirsty, and heartsick. She’d had plenty of time to think about how she would tell her father that she’d gone and ruined everything.

  Zack would, no doubt, evict them on Monday morning, as soon as he could get the paperwork together.

  She hobbled up the porch steps, wincing at the sight of the bloody footprints she left. She eased open the door and peered inside. The television was on, droning softly in the sitting room. Mom loved the sound of it, though she rarely really watched any more. Dad was in the kitchen, talking to someone on the phone.

  Hanna made her way to the bathroom off the foyer as quietly as she could and pulled out the first aid kit, quickly cleaning and wrapping her feet. It wouldn’t do to track blood all over the floor. Although why she cared, she didn’t know. It would be Zack’s house tomorrow.

  She grabbed a sweater from the hook by the door and pulled it on over her tattered blouse and then tiptoed into the sitting room. Each step made her wince. As usual, Mom sat in her favorite chair with a pile of knitting in her lap. She didn’t knit anymore, but she liked having it there.

  When Hanna bent and kissed her on the top of her head, she looked up and smiled.

  They were lucky, the doctors had told them. She was pleasant.

  She was always pleasant.

  Mom hadn’t been pleasant before; she’d been a termagant. Before her illness had struck, she would have chased Henry Stevens around the house with a broomstick if he’d had the temerity to miss a mortgage payment.

  But now she smiled and patted Hanna’s hand. “Well, hello, dear,” she said.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  The smile remained. She brushed a graying strand from her cheek. “Are you here to see Henry?”

  “No, Mom. I live here.”

  “Oh.” A flicker of confusion wafted over her face. She looked at Hanna as though she didn’t quite believe her, but only responded with, “Well, that’s nice. I don’t know where Henry is right now.”

  “He’s in the kitchen, Mom. On the phone.”

  “Ah. He’ll be back soon, then.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  “Well, that’s nice.” She picked up her knitting and studied it for a moment—a scarf she’d been working on for five years or so—and then set it back down in her lap with a sigh. “Are you here to see Henry?”

  Hanna swallowed. She knew better than to fight it. She didn’t know why she tried. She forced a smile. “No, Mom. I live here.” She had. For her entire life. And tomorrow they would have nowhere to go, unless they all went to live with Sidney in her tiny apartment above a Chinese restaurant in Dallas.

  “Oh.”

  Hanna rubbed her shoulder and glanced at the television. The news was on. In the old days, Mom would never have watched the news. She hated it. She’d always hated it. Especially this channel. Hanna picked up the remote and changed the channel until she found the one with pictures of waterfalls and mountains and elevator music in the background.

  “Well,” Mom said. “That’s nice.” She glanced up at Hanna and smiled. “Are you here to see Henry?”

  Hanna blew out a sigh. “Yes, Mom.” She dropped another kiss on her mother’s head. “I am.”

  And she headed for the kitchen.

  Somehow she had to tell her father everything had gone awry.

  He glanced up, cell phone to his ear. When he saw her, his jaw went slack. “Holy God, Hanna. No. No. She’s here. She just walked in the door. Yeah. Thanks.” He punched the button to disconnect the call and came around the table, studying her, up and down, taking in the bandaged feet, the tangled hair, the tear in her jeans. “Hanna. Hanna.” He yanked her into his arms and held her tight. Then he pulled back and glared at her. “We’ve been worried sick. Where the hell have you been?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but a swirl of dizziness took her. She licked her lips and said, “I need some water.”

  He sat her at the table, scurried over to the sink, and filled her a glass from the tap. She almost smiled. She’d never seen him scurry before. He let her finish the glass and refilled it again before he sat beside her and repeated his question. “Where have you been? Sidney, Cody, and Logan have been by three times looking for you. They said there was something with Zack?”

  “About that. Dad . . . I can’t marry Zack.”

  His eyes narrowed. His gaze raked her. He paled. His fingers clenched. “Why, that son of a bitch. I’ll kill him.” He shot to his feet. The chair scraped across the linoleum. “I’ll wring his scrawny neck. Where’s my gun?”

  “Dad.” Her sharp tone caught his attention. He stilled. Sat. This time across from her.

  “First of all, his neck is not all that scrawny. Second of all, the last thing I need now, on top of everything else, is a father in prison.”

  “Did he hurt you? Because I’ll call Bret back right
now and have that son of a bitch thrown in the clink.” Ah. So he’d been on the phone with the sheriff. “I don’t care who his father is or how much money those sons of bitches have. I’ll see him rot—”

  “Dad. I’m okay. I’m fine.”

  His gaze lingered on her face. “You’re not fine.”

  It was true. She couldn’t deny it. She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “I’m just so sorry I screwed all this up . . .”

  His brow wrinkled. “Screwed what up? Hanna, honey, what are you talking about?”

  “The ranch, Daddy.” A tear leaked out and she swiped it away. “The mortgage.”

  He flinched. “You . . . know about that?”

  She nodded.

  His Adam’s apple worked.

  “Zack told me.”

  A muscle bunched in his cheek. “That son of a bitch.”

  “It was going to be all right. Everything was going to be okay. I was going to marry him and he was going to pay off the loan and you and Mom would be able to stay here as long as you wanted . . .”

  “That low-down son of a bitch.”

  She squeezed his hand. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”

  He came around the table and knelt before her. “You got nothing to be sorry about, baby. This is all on me. I’m the one who listened to Zack. I’m the one who was stupid enough to invest in his scheme. It sounded solid. It all looked good . . .”

  Hanna blinked. “You lost the money in an investment of Zack’s?”

  Her father blew out a breath. “It looked amazing. An opportunity to double our money. Practically too good to be true. Guess it was. I lost every penny I invested.” His brow darkened. “Zack promised he wouldn’t tell anyone I was broke. And then, the two of you got engaged, and he agreed to pay off the loan as a wedding present and I, well, hell. I was relieved. Kind of surprised that you wanted to marry him, though, but too relieved to question it.” Again, her father studied her. He took in all the details, as though cataloging them for a book he might one day write. “Did you call it off? Or did he?”

  “Ahem. It was kind of a mutual thing.”

  “Did you want to marry him, honey?”

  She fiddled with the hem of her sweater, her chin low. “Not really.”

  “But you agreed. Because he told you we were losing the ranch and this was the only way . . .”

  She shrugged.

  “That scumbag.” He scrubbed his face with a palm. “Lord, I fucked up royally as a father, didn’t I, Hanna?”

  She took his weathered hand in hers. “You’ve been a great father.”

  “It’s just . . . Since your mother . . . I’ve been so worried about money and treatments and . . . everything. I lost my balance. I should never have made such a risky investment. It’s all my fault. I would never, ever want you to marry a man like Zack Pucey to make up for my mistake. Do you hear me?” It was sweet, his gruff determination, his blustery pronouncement.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “There’s nothing more wonderful than marriage, pumpkin, when you’re married to the right person.” He glanced into the sitting room, where Mom watched waterfalls and fiddled with the knitting in her lap. “Nothing more precious than those years you spend with the person you love more than breath itself. Don’t ever settle for less. No matter the cost. Understand?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “I had the sense Zack wasn’t right for you—”

  “You never said a word.”

  “I thought you were happy. I wanted you to be happy. You’ve always been a little reserved. You never talked much about your feelings. I figured, since he’s the only feller you dated, and you agreed to marry him, he was the one you chose . . .”

  Oh no. He wasn’t. Not by a long shot.

  “But knowing he tried to corral you into marrying him by using my debt as a lever . . .” He leapt up again and paced the kitchen, raking his thinning hair. “I could wring his scrawny neck.”

  “Well, I’m not marrying him now.”

  “Good.”

  “But you know what that means, don’t you, Daddy? We’ll lose the ranch. And Mom . . .”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t help but worry about it. When Zack and I had our . . . disagreement, he was very angry. I expect him to roll up with eviction papers first thing tomorrow.” She tried to force a smile, but it didn’t come out right.

  “Don’t worry about it, honey,” he said, patting her knee. “It’ll all work out. I’ll figure something out. And now, how about some of my famous chili?”

  And while her soul ached and her body hurt and worry pressed down on her like an anchor, her stomach growled and they both laughed.

  Just like he did when she was little, he went to the big pot on the stove and scooped out the chili she loved so much. He cut her off a hunk of cornbread and set it all before her and watched her eat.

  He poured her a whiskey and made her drink it and then he helped her up the stairs to her room and didn’t leave until she shooed him away.

  Because she really, really needed a bath. And then, she planned to sleep for a week.

  Or at least until Zack Pucey showed up to kick her out of her house.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Logan went with Cody when he took Sidney to the Stevens’ home after the call came from her father that Hanna was safe. He couldn’t not, even though his friend’s glares made it clear to him Cody wanted some time with Sidney to himself.

  He couldn’t sleep without seeing Hanna again. Without talking to her and assuring himself she was all right.

  This had, without exception, been the worst day of his life.

  Even worse than the day he’d nearly died.

  It had started out like heaven, waking up with Hanna in his arms, and quickly turned sour. Watching her climb into that truck with Zack, being unable to get to her, to reach her in time, had curdled his stomach. And then, when they couldn’t find her, no matter where they looked—and they looked and looked for hours—he began to suspect the worst.

  Not just that Zack had hurt her . . . but that she was gone forever. And the fear and taken root in his gut.

  He knew Zack Pucey. He knew what that bastard was capable of. Although clearly, from the way she’d talked about him, she didn’t know the whole horrible truth. No doubt he was on his best behavior whenever he was around her. And, no doubt, he threatened to beat the crap out of anyone daring to tell her the stories that floated around about him.

  It sickened him to think of her at the mercy of the man who had put him in the hospital, cost him his spleen and one of his kidneys, all because he’d dared to interfere and stop the bastard from taking her by force that night in high school.

  Once he’d recovered from that beating, his mother decided to move, lock, stock, and barrel, from the town owned and run by the Puceys. The town whose old sheriff had refused to press charges, even though Logan had nearly been beaten to death.

  It had been the best thing ever, leaving that town. In Dallas, his mom, a widow, had met Sam Wilder, and everything had changed.

  They’d never looked back.

  But Logan had never stopped thinking about Hanna. Worrying about her living under Zack Pucey’s cloud.

  As they stepped onto the Stevens’ porch, bile tickled at the back of his throat at the sight of a dark smear on the wood. In the shape of a footprint. His blood went cold.

  She’d been barefoot.

  Based on what Henry Stevens had told Sidney on the phone, Hanna had walked home. Walked.

  And she’d been barefoot.

  He wanted to find Zack and pummel him into mincemeat. And even though her father had assured Sidney that Hanna was fine, Logan wouldn’t believe it until he heard it from her lips.

  He followed Cody and Sidney through the big double d
oor into the Stevens’ home. It was a typical ranch house, a two story with old-fashioned shutters. It was well kept up, but hardly the top of the line. As a boy, he’d thought Mr. Stevens a millionaire. Along with Guy Pucey, he’d been one of the richest men in town.

  Funny how time could temper all perceptions.

  An older woman, in the sitting room, turned as they entered. She smiled. Logan saw Hanna in her eyes. “Well, hello there,” she said. “Are you here to see Henry?”

  “Yes, Mom.” Sidney bent and kissed her cheek “How are you doing today?”

  The woman’s eyes glassed over a little and she tipped her head to the side as though such a question confused her. “Well, I’m fine, I suppose,” she said.

  “That’s nice.” Sidney stroked her hair. “Where is . . . Henry?”

  Mrs. Stevens shook her head and fiddled with the knitting in her lap. “Well, I never know anymore where he is—”

  “I’m here.” Henry Stevens came into the room and shook Cody’s hand. “Thanks for bringing Sidney back,” he said.

  “Sure thing.” Cody tipped his hat.

  “How is Hanna?” Logan asked. He couldn’t be still any longer. Anxiety roiled in his gut.

  “She’s fine.” Henry nodded up the stairs. “She was exhausted, of course.”

  “Was she . . . Did she . . .” Shit. How could he ask this?

  Henry Stevens caught his eye and nodded slowly. “She’s fine, son. Just fine. Can I offer you boys some chili?”

  “Dad.” Sidney rolled her eyes. “No one wants chili.”

  Cody nudged his toe into the carpet, as though he were loath to leave. “I’d love some of your chili, Mr. Stevens.”

  Sidney glared at him as her father clapped his hands together and headed back to the kitchen. “You shouldn’t encourage him,” she hissed.

  Cody leaned close. “Sidney, can we talk?”

  She frowned at him. “Not now, Cody.”

  “Sidney . . .”

  “I have to go check on Hanna.” She shot them both a dark look. “Enjoy your chili.”

  “Tell her I’m here.” The words slipped out before Logan had a chance to stifle the urge.