Chiseled and Cherished (Moon Ranch Book 3)

by Em Petrova

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  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved

  Chiseled and Cherished

  The Moon Ranch

  Book 3

  Copyright Em Petrova 2020

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2020

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

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  More in this series:

  TOUGH AND TAMED

  SCREWED AND SATISFIED

  CHISELED AND CHERISHED

  They’re enemies—with benefits. But what happens when their secret is revealed…

  On the surface, bounty hunter Asher Moon’s got it all together. But as soon as he sets foot on the family ranch, he’s thrown back into his dysfunctional family, and now he’s got his own ugly past to cover up too. Just when he thinks he can’t handle any more drama, in walks the one woman who can make him groan—in every possible way.

  Asher isn’t the kind of guy Kinsey Reynolds can take home to meet Daddy. But no matter how hard she tries, she can’t seem to keep the sexy man out of her panties. Problem is, he’s responsible for her brother going to prison, and that’s not something easily forgiven. As soon as she thinks she’s ready to kick Asher out of her life—and bed—he sweet-talks his way back, and the temptation is impossible to ignore…

  Asher can’t trust anybody, not even a smoldering beauty who claims to have feelings for him. Kinsey wants the whole truth about the man Asher’s been hiding behind his tough-guy façade. But the more she learns about him, the more she fears she might be putting her heart at risk. Can these two opposites who attract create a happily ever after?

  Chiseled and Cherished

  by

  Em Petrova

  Chapter One

  “Get on the ground! Lemme see your hands. Get on the ground now, man!” Asher Moon moved in fast, but the fugitive stood in the middle of the parking lot glaring at him.

  Asher glared back like the tough motherfucker he was. In cases of bail jumpers, he preferred if the fugitive came quietly, but too many times he had to reach for something with more power of persuasion.

  The guy shifted his eyes around. Asher let his fingertips hover over the taser clipped to his waist.

  “I said get down, asshole. Are you deaf?”

  Rich Sterling. Wanted for assault and battery, jumped bail three weeks prior and on the lam until Asher got a tip he sat down at a local bar a couple nights a week.

  “I’m not goin’ with you, motherfucker,” Rich growled.

  “Wrong. You’re comin’ with me and you’re not gonna put up a fight. Who you drinkin’ with tonight? You got your homies with you or your wife?”

  “None of your business, pig.” He twisted his mouth and projected a huge glob of spit at Asher. It landed on the toe of his boot with a disgusting plop.

  Asher drew the taser. “Do as I say. I don’t want to hurt you. I know you got kids, and they want to be raised by their daddy.”

  Rich staggered a bit on his feet. Great—he’d had enough alcohol to give himself what bounty hunters referred to as a “can of man.” One can of beer too many and guys like Rich got more than a few ounces of fight in them.

  Spreading his legs wide, Rich waved his hands toward his chest. “Let’s go, big man. Come fight me.”

  “I don’t want to fight you, Sterling. I just want to take you in to protect you, your family and that friend of yours that put up his house as collateral to the bondsman. If I don’t take you in and you fail to show up in court, your friend’s going to lose his house. You want him homeless, man?”

  “Fuck you.”

  Asher steadied his taser on Sterling’s stomach. One step closer and the guy’d be on the ground pissing himself.

  “You did this to yourself, man. Get on the ground. Don’t reach for your—”

  Fuck the taser—he went for his handgun.

  The shot fired at the same time Asher brought his weapon up and squeezed the trigger. Two explosions sounded, and the sickening thump of something falling behind Asher felt like a knife in his gut.

  Sterling lay on the ground, clutching his right arm where Asher’s bullet had pierced him, and Asher quickly looked around.

  A person lay on the concrete, black hair streaming out, unmoving.

  Heart convulsing in his chest, he gathered his wits enough to cuff Sterling before turning for the victim of the guy’s wayward shot. The darkness in the parking lot seemed to swallow the person, leaving him unsure of the sex, the severity of the wound or if they just played possum.

  No, I heard that shot find flesh. Fuck.

  “Oh my God, it’s Melody! My daughter. Oh my God, my God.” Sterling’s wail propelled Asher faster across the lot, and he hit his knees next to the victim. Melody was the name of his oldest daughter. They lived around the block and claimed they hadn’t seen their father since he went to jail. But she’d followed him, come looking—and found his bullet instead.

  Jesus Christ.

  Asher reached his fingers into the young woman’s thick black hair lying across her neck and felt for a pulse. Moving his fingers around didn’t help one bit.

  He flipped her over and saw the gunshot wound to the heart and her slack face.

  “Goddammit.”

  “My daughter!”

  Asher grabbed his cell and dialed 9-1-1, but he didn’t hold any hope they’d make it here in time. Or that he could revive her—but he had to try.

  He folded his hands over her chest and compressed and performed rescue breathing. But a minute or two later when the medics arrived on the scene, Asher still didn’t feel so much as a flicker of a pulse.

  On the sidewalk behind him, Sterling bawled like a baby. Fuck, Asher felt like curling up next to him and crying his heart out too for the injustice of it all.

  He left the girl to the medics and stalked over to Sterling. Standing over him, he growled out, “If you’d just come with me, not pulled your weapon, your daughter would be alive right now!”

  “She is alive. Melody, baby, get up!”

  “We got this from here,” a state trooper said from Asher’s side.

  Asher stepped back, allowing the man who once had only a few charges against him get stuffed into the back of a police car. Now he’d go to prison for twenty to life for killing his own kid.

  “Fucking hell.” Asher’s hand shook as he sliced it through his hair.

  “We need your statement, man. You the bail agent?”

  “It’s written on my fucking chest, ain’t it?” Asher never could control his mouth in the heat of the moment and popping off to the trooper felt like second nature.

  “Look, I know you’re upset. Come sit down and answer some questions.”

  Ten minutes later, the cops had the story and Asher had his man—the hard way. He walked the block to his car and climbed behind the wheel. When he slammed his fist into the dash, he hardly registered the pain of knuckles splitting or blood oozing.

  Not for the first time, he wondered why the hell he did this job. He fucking hated every last man or woman he hunted. Drunks, abusers, criminals, deadbeats. Each day felt like he was hunting his old man, and looking into the fugitives’ eyes, he
usually saw the same dead expression he always got from his old man too.

  His cell rang, and he let it go to voicemail, but he did start the car. The short drive across Denver to the office didn’t give him enough time to think, let alone control his harsh, uneven breathing that sounded far too much like sobbing.

  When he pulled into the office, his boss came out of the building and crossed the parking lot to Asher’s car. He knocked on the window, and Asher got out.

  “What the fuck happened, Moon?” he demanded.

  “Shit went sideways.”

  “I heard—on the police scanner. Goddamn, Moon. A girl got shot?”

  He nodded and ran his fingers through his hair again. The tremor in his hand didn’t go unnoticed. His boss’s face softened in the yellow glow coming from the overhead light.

  “Go inside and sit down. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

  “I’m fine,” Asher said, but he wasn’t. Not even close. How many times had he or one of his brothers almost gone down for their father? They fought for his name—for their name. They grew up in fear that any moment, authorities would storm into their house and carry their father away…or one of them in a body bag for attempting to shield the fucker.

  Just like Melody came searching for her father, Asher or Dane scoured barstools for theirs. Zayden possessed brains enough to leave their father where he was, continuing to squander what little money they had on whiskey.

  He felt a guiding hand on his shoulder as his boss steered him toward a chair. Asher dropped heavily into it and stared at the wall, seeing only that poor girl’s white face. Then he crumpled forward, head in his hands.

  “Shit, Moon. What the hell, man?”

  “I couldn’t save her. I tried.” Not a tear dropped from his eyes, but they burned, blurring his vision. “That stupid fuck! If he’d just come with me easy, none of this would have happened.”

  “You’re right. It wouldn’t,” his boss said softly.

  Asher gripped the arms of the chair to steady his hands. “I need a day or two off.”

  “You need more than a day or two, Moon. Hand in your equipment. When you can hold a gun without your hands shaking, come back for it.”

  Asher stared at his boss. For five years, he’d been bounty hunting for the agency. He’d singlehandedly dragged in hundreds of fugitives. Now he didn’t know if he could drag in a full breath of air without bawling like a baby.

  Bad shit happened in the world, but he couldn’t help but think his last name played a role in tonight’s disaster. Whenever a Moon got involved, things didn’t usually end well.

  He nodded and staggered to his feet.

  “Keep in touch, Moon. Let us know how you are.”

  He didn’t answer as he walked out of the building and slid into his car. When he started the engine and took off for the highway, muscle memory didn’t navigate him to his crappy apartment across town. He pointed himself toward Stokes. The Moon Ranch.

  Home.

  * * * * *

  “Kinsey, can I have a word with you?”

  She looked up from her computer tablet to her father’s face. The creases around his eyes said this couldn’t be a good discussion. They rarely were these days since her brother, Trent, had gotten himself neck-deep in trouble with the law.

  Nodding, she set aside her tablet and waited. Her father took a seat in the old armchair across from the sofa where she sat only seconds ago browsing through dog rescue apps.

  “What’s going on, Dad?” She moved to perch on the edge of the cushion.

  He ran a hand over his craggy face. Not only did the man put in ten hour days at the metal shop, but he spent just as many at home worrying about his son.

  “Got a call today. Trent got picked up.”

  Her heart fell. “Oh God. Where?”

  “Somewhere outside Denver. Guess he was living with the same girl who posted bail for him. Bounty hunter snagged him about a week ago, and he’s just now getting a call out to us.” His father shook his head.

  Kinsey released a shaky breath. She and Trent shared the same upbringing, and she turned out just fine. But her big brother often ran with the rough guys in high school and early into his adulthood. Eventually, he’d moved to Denver for work, and then they’d begun receiving calls that Trent got himself in trouble with the law.

  “What now?” she asked.

  “He’s gotta be covering for some buddy. Do you know who he’s hanging out with these days?”

  “No, Dad. He doesn’t tell me those things anymore, not since he moved away.” The worry felt like a heavy mantle on her shoulders, adding to the fatigue already there. She’d put in her own long day on the job.

  “Maybe you could ask around, Kinsey.”

  “Who would I ask, Dad? He doesn’t run with the guys from Stokes either. They know as much as we do.” Months back, Trent got himself arrested for drug possession and theft. His girlfriend—who Kinsey and her father had never met and knew nothing about—posted his bail. Next thing they heard, Trent failed to appear in court and gone on the run.

  Kinsey shook her head. “I don’t understand what happened to Trent. He never got in trouble like this.”

  “I know. It’s those guys he hangs out with. They’re loyal to each other. Trent’s covering for one, said the drugs belonged to him.”

  She shook her head. They’d been over this countless times, and each time her father said the same things. Trent didn’t do it. He should go to court to clear himself from a crime he didn’t commit. And she just wanted it all to end so her big brother could come home and start his life over, far from the horrible crowd he ran with, including that girlfriend of his.

  “You don’t know who picked him up?” she asked again, not that it mattered.

  “Trent just kept saying he gave the guy a run for his money.” Her father grinned, proud as ever of his boy.

  A worm of unease worked through her belly. “If he calls again, I’d like to speak to him.”

  “Yeah. He might tell you more.”

  She doubted it, but she wanted to end this conversation so nodded in agreement. “I’m heading home, Dad. Thanks for dinner.”

  “Sure, Kinsey. You really gotta go? It’s early.”

  “Yeah, a friend of mine is having a birthday party. Starts at eight.”

  “Fun way to spend a Friday night.”

  “It is.” She stood and stuffed her tablet into her bag. Then she crossed the room and dropped a kiss to her father’s scruffy cheek. “Go to bed early. You look tired.”

  “I will.”

  “And sleep in.”

  Her father nodded and gave her the only attempt at a smile she saw these days, which looked more like a grimace. Since Trent’s trouble, her father appeared worn down, and no wonder. Their ma had only been gone a year now. The day after Kinsey graduated from the game warden program, their mother suffered a blood clot to the lung. Hours later, she was gone. That night Trent left Stokes—and Kinsey was left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives.

  She patted her dad’s shoulder and gave him another peck on the cheek. “You better shave too.” She softened the order with a smile, and he returned it with an even wider grimace.

  Sighing inwardly, she left the house and drove home. Her apartment in town looked more and more like her haven these days. Getting away from her dad’s despair over Trent slathered her in a thick layer of guilt. But she wasn’t in jail or six feet under, and she deserved a bit of fun after a long week of writing citations for hunters and fishermen who touristed Stokes, and the party sounded perfect tonight.

  Half an hour later, she left her apartment dressed in a body-hugging baby pink dress and heels. With her hair loose around her shoulders, she felt like a new woman, as far from her usual daily attire of game warden uniform and ponytail as possible.

  When she reached Kelly’s house, she had trouble finding a place to park so made her own spot in the yard. Loud music greeted her ears. She didn’t bother knocking o
n the front door, because nobody would hear her anyway.

  Bass drummed in her chest, and she cast a look at the packed house. Kelly had a lot of friends, but she’d obviously invited half of Stokes to celebrate her thirtieth birthday.

  “Woo, girl. Lookin’ good!”

  Kinsey glanced around to see an old high school acquaintance with a beer in hand bobbing his head to the music. Suddenly, she felt as if she’d tunneled back through time to her senior year of high school. The party guests, the music and the keg of beer in the corner felt like old times.

  Okay, she’d only stay an hour or so, long enough to cut the cake and wish Kelly a happy birthday. Then she’d go home and have a big soak in the tub with her latest novel before falling into bed. Maybe she’d look at more rescue dogs. For a while now, she’d been considering adopting a pet—something to come home to and ease the stress of her life.

  The guy waved his beer at her and ground his hips to the music. “Want some o’ this?”

  She shook her head and moved through the crowd. People stood in clusters talking loudly over the music. Some sat in the corners of the living room drinking and vaping. When she reached the kitchen, she found Kelly seated like a queen on the kitchen counter, being hand-fed pizza by a hot body-builder type.

  Kinsey giggled and swept forward to hug her friend, bumping the guy aside with a twitch of her hip. “Happy birthday! I see you’re taking full advantage of your special day.”

  “Kinsey! Girl, I seriously didn’t think you’d come! Wowser, you look fantastic.” Kelly focused on the man who’d been feeding her the slice of pepperoni. “Doesn’t she, Mac? God, see those legs in high heels? I’m so jealous. And to think you’re stuck in that stodgy green and brown uniform all day long.”

  Chuckling at her friend’s words, Kinsey simultaneously wondered why she’d chosen the curve-hugging dress and heels tonight. She hated being the center of attention.

  Kelly jumped off the counter and landed on her own high heels. She didn’t bother tugging down her red skirt where it rode high on her hips, and then she grabbed Kinsey’s arm. “Let’s get a drink.”