by Leanne Davis
River from the City
Rydell River Ranch Series, Book Six
Leanne Davis
Contents
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
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Chapter 1
-Year 40 from the start of the River’s End Series-
HIS EYES. FOREVER SCARRED. Corrupted. Tarnished. He wanted bleach. Acid. Anything to take the images before him and forever banish them from his eyes. To unsee what he just witnessed. Something that could salvage his wretched life, which literally derailed in one second. The split second when he opened his own bedroom door.
Only to find his wife in bed with another man.
But even worse, and in spite of as bad as that was, the man his wife was in bed with was her own stepbrother. That was so beyond just being in bed, crossing the line by indulging in the physical act of having sex with her own brother.
Stepbrother. But at this point, that distinction didn’t make it more palatable or anything else for Hunter.
His wife and her partner were raised together as siblings. Living in the same house, with no other kids to distract, or interfere with their lives. They were not raised as step-siblings. And now? Were they actually… in his bed having sex?
Hunter Rydell had no idea what to do or how to react. He stood in the shadow of his bedroom door, his mouth hanging open, completely frozen and inert. Neutral. Just standing there. Observing his wife with another man—her stepbrother. There was no mistaking it. No misunderstanding. His eyes absorbed all of it, including the body parts, graphic, ugly, and disgusting, parts he preferred not to ever catch sight of in his lifetime.
The stepbrother’s name was Stanley and he was the same age as his stepsister, raised practically as twins since they were seven years old. Thoughts spun and whirled through his head, without any substantiation. His disgust, rage, and shock were all congealing in his brain and he couldn’t figure out how he felt. Or what to think. Or how to react. He was paralyzed with surprise. He couldn’t even shut his eyes. Or rush at both of them before unleashing his rage. Or even… just stop it. Stop their disgusting display that assaulted the face of decency, the knowledge of right and wrong, not to mention, her marriage vows. And all the while, they performed their licentious act right before his eyes.
Why? Why would she do that? How could they commit such an awful indiscretion?
How could she betray her own husband so flagrantly? That was the most essential and central question in this hodge-podge soup of shock and disbelief. He was as solid as a statue and totally innocuous, forming a “V” in the open door. How could they conspire to do this to him? Literally speaking, how could they stomach the idea of having sex with each other? They shared the same mother and father. Parents that were married for twenty years now. Stanley’s dad was Francine’s stepdad but she called him Dad and the same applied to her mother and Stanley. Francine’s biological dad died when she was very young and Stanley’s mother never entered the picture. So, for all intents and purposes, they were a nuclear family of four. At least from the age of seven years old and on.
This shouldn’t have ever happened between them.
The bitter taste of bile climbed up his esophagus and made his mouth salivate. His stomach was turning inside-out. Of course, extramarital cheating was deplorable under any circumstances. But the fact that he was her stepbrother, her virtual twin brother, soured the contents of Hunter’s stomach completely.
What kind of monster did he marry?
Hunter never foresaw this. Not from Francine. Not during their marriage.
He had no idea. None in the least. She never revealed any desire, want or need for something beyond what he could offer her. He honestly didn’t have a clue that she would even want to cheat on him. Why? What went wrong with their marriage? What stole their love from each other that she would decide to do this? This. With her only sibling!? Her stepbrother.
And how did he fail to realize it was even a possibility? Not in the five years they were married. Not until this moment, right here and right now.
Hunter had come home early from a business trip that Francine’s stepfather, Larry, arranged for him, and Hunter was so looking forward to finally sleeping in his own bed tonight. The other excitement was to lie beside his wife, slipping between the warm, silk sheets and disappearing into the cloud of her perfume. It was a long, red-eye flight coming home. His mission was in Atlanta; he had to scope out and possibly purchase a dilapidated department store building. The space was crumbling and dated. But at the right, low-ball price, and minimal renovations as per Hunter’s suggestions, it would herald the gentrification of that section of the city, starting with modern commerce. The area was poised on the cusp of a huge revitalization and Hunter knew at gut-level he wasn’t wrong about the retail space or the neighborhood. This would become the next location of the high-end Stanton Stores. With its arrival, Hunter foresaw the entire block transforming into a first-class destination spot, bringing in lots of tourists and customers. A day of shopping, going to the spa, and elegant dining on a fancy lunch were just some of the provisions offered by the store. All the necessary negotiations were accomplished early and with success. Instead of resting on his laurels, or celebrating in the bar with his co-workers, Hunter decided to fly home early, almost in the spur of the moment, just because he wanted to see Francine more than anything.
Having left his car at SeaTac airport, it was a simple matter to fly in, drive home to their Capitol Hill condo, park in the private garage, in one of their two reserved spots, and ride the elevator to the top floor, the penthouse suite.
Her parents owned the building and provided them with this condo. It was called part of his “salary” but really, they included it just so Francine could live here. In the manner she was accustomed to all her life.
Exhaustion left him groggy, almost to the point of being clumsy as he’d entered his home. Setting his suitcase down in the entryway, he’d intended to leave it there until tomorrow. Right now? He wanted to quietly steal down the hallway to their closed bedroom door. At first, he wondered why she might close it while he was gone. Perhaps it was because she was nervous at being alone and wanted to limit the nighttime noises that might disturb her sleep. She often claimed many times in the past how much she hated it when he was gone. Francine didn’t like to be alone, ever, but especially, at night.
She’d come up with a solution: ask Stanley to stay over when Hunter wasn’t home. Hunter was okay with that. He was always grateful and thanked his stepbrother-in-law for doing so on many occasions.
Now? As he stealthily pushed the bedroom door open, it took a moment, a long, strange moment before he
could register what was happening. A moment or two to understand what was occurring right before him.
Both were buck naked. The city lights shone on their skin in a soft, sensual glow provided by the undraped windows. The nighttime skyline, in all of its panoramic splendor, was the only audience besides Hunter to their tryst, their dalliance, their incestuous step-sibling screwing.
He stood there, looking stunned, and no words came from his mouth. He could barely even form a word in his brain. It was so strange, so startling and so wrong. So unexpected, his jaw unhinged and dropped open, yet he didn’t rush into the room, or fling Stanley off his wife and push his head through the window, along with his body, hurling him out onto the pavement below. He stood there in shocked disbelief as he watched the flagrant hammering of another man’s body inside his wife’s.
They were lifelong siblings. Having sex with each other.
His mind was stuck in a loop. That? This? What? How? For how long? Why? Yet the proof was glaring at him right there. Right there.
Finally, reality stabbed through his numb, frozen paralysis. After his entire body and brain suffered clinical shock, this was real. This was truly happening before his eyes. This was his wife. And her brother. Having sex...
His stomach roiled as some caustic acid rushed up his throat.
Words filled his head along with their images. Nasty, disgusting words that he strung together in endless versions that kept swirling around his mind. He longed to expel them, unloading them onto his disgusting wife. He feared he would scream. Or at least, yell. Maybe hit his fist through the wall. If he had a gun, perhaps he would shoot them both.
Plenty of stories happened like that. The husband or wife finds the spouse cheating, right in the act, and in a rage, shoots him or her along with the cheater. He always shook his head at the stupidity and absence of logic in acting on such an impulse. It wasn’t worth a lifetime in jail so he would never kill another person because of cheating. Cheating. Not enough cause for murder or spending a lifetime in prison.
But now? He kind of got it. That fast, he felt the burning, hot anger. The intense, potential rage. It was impossible to resist or control; and the longer that reality simmered in his brain, the greater it grew.
He slammed his fist into his other hand. Shooting forward with both hands out, Hunter used his full body weight to shove off the naked male body that dared to defile his bedroom, his marriage, and his life. Naturally, he had the advantage. So quiet in his return and entry to his home, they didn’t have a clue he was even there. He was the only witness to their sin. His brain processed what his eyes were observing while his heart was both breaking and swelling. Rage and grief. Love and spiteful revenge hit him all at once.
Francine. Fucking someone else. That was bad, so hideous that his breath hitched inside his chest. But what could be worse than doing it with Stanley? The magnitude of their mutual betrayal was too much to fathom. The pain flashed behind his eyes, propelling him as he rushed forward and body-slammed the naked, prone body. Stanley fell off the side of the bed and landed on his back. Hunter had the full advantage as he scrambled over Stanley’s naked body and moved to the side of him. He started punching. Everywhere and anywhere, he could reach. His face. Neck. Shoulders. Arms. He punched and punched. Blood sprayed the room. Francine screamed over and over for him to stop. The punching and screaming seemed to stay in sync.
She hurled herself at Hunter, sobbing and screeching. “No. Stop. Please! Hunter… Stop! Before you kill him. Stop.” She pushed him away. He shook her off and she fell back, stumbling to the ground. Rushing to her feet, she defensively threw her body over Stanley’s so he’d have to hit her before he could get to Stanley.
Eventually, Hunter regained his self-control and stopped.
Breathing as heavily as an asthmatic after a long run, he huffed and puffed until he finally shifted backward. He withdrew from Stanley and his wife, who was still protecting Stanley from Hunter. No one ever required protection from his violence before. Then again, he’d never been violent before.
Hunter stared in surprise at his bloody knuckles. The pain was starting to tingle through the burning, blinding rage and hurt. Reality slowly returned to him.
He stared in horror now at what he’d done as well as what they’d done.
Slowly, he kneeled back and released them before rising to his feet and staring down.
Francine glanced over her shoulder, wet tears streaking her face. Her white ass gleamed up at him. He pulled his phone out of his suit pocket and clicked a picture of them. All the disgusting, graphic glory of them was caught on camera. Stanley’s flaccid penis and bloody face caught his eye as they both stared up at him. They were waiting for a sign. Unsure of him. Scared he would pounce again. For he still had the advantage.
He just pressed three buttons on his phone.
“You explain it to your father. He’d never believe me.”
Francine’s eyes widened. “Hunter… what did you do?”
“What did I do?” He stared at her, nearly gaping. Was she fucking real? “I texted a picture of you naked on top of your brother to your father, my boss. He’d never believe me if I simply told him. I still can’t believe it.”
“No. Stop it. Undo it!” She jumped away from her lover. He groaned and pulled a hand to his face. “You can’t do that… no. He can’t see us like this. No…!”
“But it’s okay for me to observe?” He stared at them in astonishment. He raised his hand higher so she couldn’t reach the cell phone. How stupid she was if that was what worried her most.
No worries about Hunter having to witness it. Her father. Their father. He shuddered. She should be scared. He wondered how any parent could condone, support or understand that. It was incest, legally or otherwise. And the parents who raised them? They’d know more than anyone else how closely those two were, just like any siblings, and never step-siblings. They never used the word “step” in referring to their kinship other than to clarify it once in a while.
He stepped back. Her eyes were pleading with him, and the huge, streaming tears flowed out. “Hunter…” her voice croaked and she shuddered. “H-H-Hunter… I’m sorry. But wait. Don’t do anything crazy. Let’s… let’s… we’ll talk… and… and…”
He didn’t listen to her but just turned around and stepped away. His naked, pleading wife and her naked lover were utterly repulsive to him. Her naked stepbrother. He shot through the doorway. She followed him and kept imploring, “No, wait!” crying his name over and over again. “Hunter! Hunter! Please… just… Please…”
He stopped one time and she hurried over to block him from leaving. She was still naked and sobbing, and he remembered thinking she had the most beautiful face he ever gazed upon. He always thought so until this singular moment. Now she was tainted goods. Gross. Dead to him.
“Get. Out. Of. My. Way.” He enunciated clearly and concisely. Pointed and harsh. His gaze settled over her head. She was a tall woman, but he still had a few inches on her.
“Hunter, we have to talk. To decide what to do. Stop! You can’t just—”
“You were fucking your brother. You’re still unashamed and naked in front of me. I will never see you again. Get away from me.”
Sobbing and hiccupping, she gasped out, “I’m sorry. We tried so hard not to surrender to our impulses. We always tried to avoid it. We never wanted to let this happen. Once it did, we tried to stop. Always. But we just couldn’t. We love each other. We thought… I thought when I married you, we could finally stop. But…”
Those were the only words to make him hesitate and he glared back at her. “How long? How long have you been doing this? You’re saying you started this before we got married? You’re saying our entire marriage is a sham? A scam? You used me to shield your debauchery and debasement?”
Her hands covered her face and her head kept shaking as she cried out, “We tried not to.”
“When?” His tone was as cold as steel. Ice. Filled with hatred.
<
br /> “Since we were about eighteen. But our feelings started long before that. We both tried not to feel that way. We both know. I know it isn’t right, but that’s how we felt. This is how we really feel. We thought if we just did it sometimes… and no one ever knew, we could just go on and pretend whatever. But then, I knew it was time to move on. I wanted to be with you. Hunter, that part is real. I mean, I do love you. I just love Stanley too and I hoped our marriage would stop us from doing it anymore. I hoped we could finally move on, get it under control. But…”
“It never stopped? Not even after we were married.?”
“The first few months… but…” Her voice trailed off. “But no. Not really.”
“I was your stooge.” Hunter hated the idea of being used. To cover up an affair with her sibling. One that predated their relationship. What a shot to his heart.
Her hands dropped from her face and her head whipped up. “No… no… it wasn’t like that—” She started to come towards him but he grabbed her arms and shoved her back.
“It was. And it is. Don’t touch me with the same hands you just touched him with. You’re still naked for him. Get out of my way—”
He set her physically aside as she dramatically hyperventilated and collapsed, hugging herself while her crocodile tears flowed. He snorted, watching her pathetic performance. Wow, she was good. An excellent actress, she knew how to play the body-language to match her tears and facial contortions of misery. He shook his head as he stepped over her. No wonder he fell for her and believed she wanted him. She deserved a Tony award with all those theatrics.
