Longing (Legacy Book 1)
Page 1
C I A N A S T O N E
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, businesses, places, events, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 Ciana Stone
Cover by Syneca Featherstone
ISBN: 978-0-9985808-0-7
All rights reserved.
DEDICATION
As always, to the man who owns my heart.
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Prologue
He didn’t notice the growing darkness or the silence that fell outside the confine of his office. He stared unblinkingly at the bank of windows that dominated the outside wall. The sun sank behind the building, and for a few moments, only the dying light of the day lit the city. He recognized the beauty in that moment but nonetheless felt no sense of awe at the synergy of nature and man.
The sparks of gold and red shooting off metal and glass, the sharp contrast of light and dark painted a canvas that would only appear this once and never again in the exact combination. He recognized it but felt only a sense of detachment. He was not a creature of the city, of concrete and metal, of the constant movement of people. He found no solace here. He was born for the quiet of the deep woods, of rolling hills or flowing prairies.
It did not take long before lights appeared, one by one, illuminating windows as the city came to life for the night. Soon artificial light would eclipse the darkness, bathing the city in light that gave a sickly hue to skin, making people look unwell to his eyes. The city and its people demanded light. People who dwelled in cities seemed interminably afraid of the dark.
His eyes took it in and still he did not move.
Had anyone looked into his office, they would have seen a handsome man with features some described as hard and others as sensual. A man whose gray eyes could woo a woman into his bed faster than an eight-second ride on a bull; or cause even the most stalwart of men to feel a niggle of unease. Had anyone observed, they would have noticed his stillness. Were it not for the steady rise and fall of his chest, he might have appeared a statue, a likeness of a man without life.
But he lived. And he remembered.
His gaze dropped to the stamped envelope lying on the polished surface of his desk. There was no return address, postage or indication of its place of origin. Only a handwritten name on the envelope. His.
Logan James Legacy. Not LJ or Logan, as he was most often called, but his full name. Only one person in his life had ever called him by his full name. He didn’t know if she was even still alive. He hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again.
Sabine.
Just the thought of her sent him rocketing back to that time he wanted to forget, to pretend had never happened.
Logan didn’t bother to tie his horse. Willis would not run off. He’d be content to graze in the shade of the trees. Logan was the first to arrive. He’d been tasked with stealing liquor from his father’s cabinet. Josh Beaudreaux, his first cousin on his mother’s side, was bringing cigarettes and Fuller, Joshua’s brother and the oldest of their circle, was bringing marijuana.
Two others, the twins—Matt and Mike Legendre—were bringing beer and snacks. Friends of Logan’s from school—Gil Spencer and Rusty Stills—were coming along with one additional member, Micky Andrews, a kid whose father worked for Logan’s family. Micky had been invited because he made everyone laugh. It was the makings of a perfect weekend party. All the boys were supposed to be inviting girls, but Logan had no clue how many if any would show.
At fifteen, Logan didn’t know that much about what a perfect party was, but he was excited about this one because Allison McDaniels was coming. He’d have been happy if no one else but her showed up. He and Allison had been boyfriend and girlfriend for nearly a month. Allison had moved here two months ago, and Logan had lost his heart to her the first day she walked into biology class.
Her blonde hair hung in a smooth fall of silk to nearly her waist and her brown eyes were rimmed with thick dark lashes. Allison had a figure that boasted of breasts that were more than mere bumps on her chest, and she had let him touch her breasts on their second date, as they’d sat in the movie theater.
That was the night Logan had fallen in love. Funny how a girl’s breasts could hold so much power. He’d do just about anything for her just to touch those breasts again. Now as he waited for the others, he tried to come up with a plan for getting Allison alone.
A sound from behind him had him whirling around. Sabine stepped from the shadows of the trees. “You shouldn’t have invited her, Logan James.”
“What are you doing here?” It annoyed him that Sabine knew about the gathering. How had she found out? Even thinking the question caused him to grimace. Remy Sabine Gustave Legendre was a Gypsy girl adopted by his mother’s people in Louisiana, the Legendre family. She’d been on the doorstep of a well-known witch just hours after birth.
The witch had taken her immediately to the Legendre matriarch, Clarissa Beatrice, who determined that the child should be given to Genevieve Beaudreaux Legacy. Genevieve, being one of Clarissa’s daughters, was equipped to raise the child in terms of teaching her what she needed to learn about the craft and the Kindred. Her husband, John Logan, was an exceptionally wealthy man who’d made a massive fortune in energy, primarily oil. The child would not want, and Clarissa was convinced that one day she would prove to be of value to the family.
Logan James had been eight-years-old when his mother walked through the front door of their home with Sabine in her arms. He’d had no interest in the child. He already had younger siblings—John Luke, Lyon, Mysti, and Landon. He didn’t need more, particularly not a sister.
Even after seven years, Logan felt annoyed whenever Sabine turned her lilac tinted gaze upon him and stared at him in silence. He wouldn’t admit it, but the irritation he felt stemmed from discomfort. There was something in her gaze that seemed too old for her years, as if she knew everything inside his head. It unnerved him.
“You shouldn’t have invited her.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of admitting that Allison was coming. “And what the heck are you doing out here? You’re just a kid; you shouldn’t be wandering the woods alone.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Logan James.”
“I’m bigger and stronger and can kick your scrawny ass if you don’t run your narrow little butt home right now.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Your legs don’t look broken to me.”
“I have to stay, or you’ll die.”
Logan snapped back to the present. Even now, after thirty years, the memory of her words and the tone in which she’d spoken them sent something dark and frightening skittering through his mind. He whispered a curse and turned his head to look across the room, to the long credenza that sat along the wall. Framed pictures, dozens of them, sat on the polished surface. Photos of his family. The people he was entrusted to protect.
Even Sabine.
His eyes moved to the envelope on his desk. Just as he lifted his hand to reach for it, his phone rang. Logan looked at it. It was his brother Beau. He made no move to pick up the phone; he just watched as it rang. When it fell silent, he continued to watch.
A chime, followed by
an alert window opening on the phone’s screen let him know he had a voicemail. He pressed the home button on the phone to unlock it with his fingerprint and then accessed his messages.
“Shit is hitting the fan in Standing Rock. Maybe it’s time to make a statement.”
Logan smiled. As hoped, his enemy had fallen right into the trap he and his father had set. He picked up his phone and dialed Milly Harrison, a woman his mother’s age who had been his executive assistant since the day he’d taken his place in the family business.
“Milly, sorry to bother you so late.” He spoke into the phone, leaving a message. Milly knew that he never expected her to answer after hours unless he’d made prior arrangements with her. She’d check her messages in the morning and take care of whatever he wanted.
“Set up a meeting with Wes Pursell and Bronson Weathers in Cotton Creek as soon as possible. I’ll go there to make it easier for them. And set up a press conference for tomorrow morning.”
He ended the call and his gaze fell on the envelope again. With a snarl, he ripped it open and withdrew the single folded sheet of paper. A Judas wolf walks among you.
Reading those words lit the fires of anger within him, and awoke a fear he thought he’d long buried. Logan wadded the paper in his fist and as he stood, dropped it on the desk and picked up his phone. As he headed for the office door, he placed a call. “I need you to find Remy Sabine Beaudreaux,” he said as soon as the call was answered. “Now.”
There was no need to wait for a response. He knew his order would be carried out as quickly as possible.
Logan had no conscious awareness of the walk to the elevator, the ride to the basement, the short walk to his car or even leaving the parking garage. His mind was held captive by thoughts of that night thirty years ago. Despite his fervent desire to escape it, he could not and once more the events unfolded in his mind.
“Sabine, get the hell out of here.” Logan grabbed Sabine by the arm and pulled her deeper into the woods that surrounded the cleaning. He didn’t release her until he felt they were far enough away from camp to be overheard.
“You’re going to march yourself home right now.”
“No, I’m not, I told you—”
“Yeah, right, we’ll all die without you. You’ve been reading too much. Now leave.”
“Logan James, you know I can’t leave you. I love you and one day when I’m grown you’re going to love me and we’re going to have babies and be a family and—”
“Leave!” Frustration had him acting without consideration. He shoved her and watched with remorse as she fell back. Remorse turned to concern when he heard her head impacting against a rock.
Logan hurried to kneel beside her. “Sabine?” He shook her gently.
She didn’t open her eyes and concern morphed into fear. Logan lifted her head. There was blood on the rock. “Damn.” He needed to get her home.
“Logan?” Allison’s voice behind him had him jumping to his feet and hurrying in the direction of her voice. He cut a look behind him as he moved forward. Sabine would be okay. There wasn’t that much blood.
He collided into something. As he stumbled and turned, he heard an expulsion of air and then saw Allison falling backward. Logan caught her before she hit the ground. When he looked at her, his body involuntarily started, and all thoughts of Sabine fled his mind.
“What’s happened? We have to get you to the hospital!”
She was covered in blood. It stained her clothing, her skin, even her hair. Logan had never seen that much blood. He held onto her, lifting her fully to her feet. “Can you walk?”
She smiled up at him. “Of course. I thought you’d stood me up.”
“I’d never do that. Are you sure you can you walk? I can carry you.”
She ignored the question. “Why don’t we stay here?” She tugged on his hand as he took a step.
She had to be in shock, or suffering a concussion or something. Logan looped his arm around her waist to support her. “Come on, we need to go.
Allison looked as if she would argue but then smiled. “Of course.”
Logan looped his arm over her shoulder and breathed out in relief. The camp was only fifteen yards away, and she didn’t seem to be having any trouble walking.
They stepped from the cover of the trees into the clearing, and for a moment Logan’s brain couldn’t reconcile reality with what met his eyes. When it did, he did something he never imagined he’d do.
He screamed.
Chapter One
The car had barely rolled to a stop at the entrance of the high-rise where he owned a luxury penthouse before Wayne got out. He’d seen the reporters waiting as his driver had pulled up and was eager to get past them as quickly as possible.
As expected, they descended on him the moment his feet touched the pavement. Just like the piranhas he considered them to be, they crowded in, each trying to get the first bite. “Mr. Garen, Mr. Garen.” A dozen voices called his name as he tried to work his way through the crowd.
Wayne would have liked nothing better than to shove reporters aside, barrel his way through them with brute strength, but that would only add fuel to the fire of painting his family as evil.
He stopped and focused on a slight woman in an ill-fitting jacket. She seemed shocked and for a moment froze, then gathered herself and launched into her spiel.
“Mr. Garen, today there was a statement released saying the Army would not authorize construction of a pipeline on Corps land bordering or underthe reservation until they can determine whether previous decisions regarding the site under the National Environmental Policy Act require reconsideration. Therefore, the administration is requesting that the pipeline company, namely Garen Energy, voluntarily pause all construction activity within twenty miles east or west of the lake. Does Garen Energy intend to halt construction pending a review?”
Wayne pinned her with a look he hoped looked as disgruntled and annoyed as he felt. “Garen Energy has always complied with state and federal regulations and has no intention of endangering water supplies or sacred lands.”
With that, he started forward.
“Is that a no, Mr. Garen?”
Wayne gave the mousy woman credit for spunk. He thought he’d cowed her with his look and tone. Still, he ignored her and kept walking, working his way through the crowd. Normally he tried to be as cordial as possible. Today he’d been beset upon at every turn and was in no mood for congeniality.
“What do you think Legacy will have to say about this latest development?” the woman called out.
That did cause a hitch in his pace. He almost stopped—wanted to, in fact. Rage boiled up, threatening to obliterate control. It took every ounce of self-discipline he possessed to continue working his way to the door. The doorman made sure the door not only closed behind him, but locked. Wayne thanked him without pause, made it to the elevator and punched the call button.
He kept his composure until he was in the elevator and the doors closed. That was when he lost it. One second he was standing there watching the numbers light as the car rose and the next he’d put a dent in the wall with his fist.
The pain that radiated up his hand, into his wrist and forearm had him shaking his hand and foregoing another punch. What do you think Legacy will have to say about this latest development?
Damn Legacy. That whole clan was a bane to his life. They and his father’s hatred of them had shaped the course of Wayne’s life.
An old memory took hold of his mind, taking him back in time.
Wayne had not spent a lot of time around horses. His family had a nice home in Houston. When Herbert Pursell invited Wayne’s father to a business meeting in West Texas, he’d suggested that Harris bring his family. Wayne’s mother had been quick to decline, but Wayne had begged to go.
The Pursells had a big ranch with a lot of horses. They owned race horses as well as horses used in their ranching business. And they had a son, Wes, who was a year younger than Wayne.
It was exciting and a little scary. Wayne’s heart was beating fast. If his dad caught him, he would be in big trouble. But he and the other boys were being really quiet and so far they had not been seen.
Wes put his finger to his lips and inched his way inside the barn without being spotted. Logan followed, leaving Wayne to make the dash. His heart was pounding as he hurried into the barn, his legs moving as fast as they could to carry him to the first stall where the other boys waited.
He felt like he’d achieved a great victory when he threw himself down on the hay, breathing hard and grinning. Wes and Logan gave him the thumbs up sign, signaling a job well done. None of them were paying attention to their fathers. They’d only followed because it seems like a fun and sneaky thing to do.
They sat there for a few seconds, looking at one another, and Wayne started to think this wasn’t so much fun after all. Their dads were talking about who would win some horse race, and that was pretty boring. And it wasn’t like there was anything to do in the stall.
Then the conversation between their fathers changed. Pursell said he’d asked them there to discuss a possible joint oil venture. Wayne knew his dad was always looking for more ways to make money. It was what he loved more than anything, or at least that was the way it seemed.
“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I go in business with a Legacy again,” Wayne’s dad said.
All three boys looked at one another and then as if possessed of a single mind, hurried to the stall door to peer out.
“You ever gonna let go of that, Harris?” Logan’s father, John, asked. “You know I didn’t cheat you.”