by KB Winters
Knight Moves
Book 3
By USA Today and Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
KB Winters and Evie Monroe
Copyright © 2016 BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Published By: BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
Copyright and Disclaimer
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, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Contents
Knight Moves Book 3
Copyright and Disclaimer
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
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Acknowledgements
About The Authors
Chapter One
Ryker
Six thousand acres of Oklahoma country spread before me, swallowing me up in the sheer vastness. Most things seem larger when seen through the eyes of a child, but standing on the peak, looking over the land left to me by my grandfather, I realized it looked bigger than I’d remembered from the summers I’d spent with him. The sprawling land was mostly unused pastures, overgrown and wild. The ranch house itself had been rented out since before my grandfather’s passing, but the current tenants weren’t ranchers and besides a small vegetable garden behind the house, hadn’t touched the rest of the land.
But that was all about to change.
The tenants were moving out at the end of the month, just a couple of weeks away, and I’d be moving in. In the meantime, I was staying with my mom and making the hour long drive to the heart of the land my grandfather had entrusted to me, in order to map out my plans and get everything in place to begin restoration of the once splendid property that had been my grandfather’s entire life.
“What do ya think?” I asked, cocking a brow at Bowie, the blue heeler that lived at the ranch. He’d been the offspring of my grandfather’s dog, Georgia, named after my great-grandmother’s birthplace. Bowie was the smallest of the last litter she’d had, and had stayed at the ranch even after my grandfather was gone. The current tenants had been taking care of him, but had informed me on my first visit back to the ranch, the home they were moving to didn’t allow dogs and they’d offered to leave him with me. I’d agreed right away, the somewhat sentimental idea of the dog being one last link to my grandfather, comforted me. Besides, a good dog was exactly what I needed.
Especially considering I’d never felt so alone.
Bowie looked up at me, cocked his head in the opposite direction, and I had to laugh. I scratched his head and then started off down the hill, sketchpad in my free hand to make a map out of my visions for the property that now belonged to me. Bowie raced after me and I smiled as he passed me and made a beeline for the creek. The sun was shining down on the ground, the warm earthy smell a welcome change from the hot, dry desert air I’d been living in. As much as I’d hated leaving, now that I was out in the country, breathing clean, fresh air, I was starting to relax.
Slipping out of my life as an FBI contractor had been easy. It was a relief not walking around armed and alert at all hours. Going from being a SEAL to a government contractor had been jarring, and I realized—in hindsight—I’d never fully transitioned into the change. Bennett had taken to it overnight, his transition so flawless—it was like he was destined for the role. Now that I was a thousand miles away, I was happy—happier than I thought I’d be.
Sure, it was hard saying goodbye at the airport, but I knew he’d be more than fine without me. He’d promised to come out to the ranch within the next month or so, and although I knew that was going to be a hard promise for him to keep given the demands of the job—I’d told him I’d make up the couch for him anytime he wanted to crash.
The hardest goodbye had been to Everlie.
The letter I’d written to her at the hotel bar the night before I’d left was hard enough. I’d never been so raw, so vulnerable—with anyone—especially not a woman I was seeing. I’d known since the beginning Everlie was different, but writing those words, pouring every drop of emotion and pain on paper, had fucking wrecked me. Then…finding her with those words between her fingers.
I closed my eyes against the memory. It wasn’t a pretty one.
I still couldn’t believe how badly I’d flipped my shit.
She had every right to ignore me, which was what she’d been doing since I stormed out of the hotel room that night after our explosive argument.
I stopped by the bank of the creek and sat down, my back pressed into the bark of a tall oak tree. Bowie was running up and down the edge of the water, barking and pouncing at whatever was inhabiting the muddy shore. It was the middle of the day, and I was dressed in jeans and a lightweight, long sleeve shirt, and a pair of faded old shoes.
When I’d touched down in Oklahoma, my mom had been waiting for me at the airport. She took me home with her and after a home cooked meal and some catching up, she drove me out to the storage center I’d rented before my last deployment with the Navy. I hadn’t been home long enough between getting home from that mission, before it was off for more training for this last gig with the FBI. Going through the boxes was like finding an old time capsule, bringing back a whole host of memories. All of my old clothes, books, and a few pieces of furniture. It would all be moved to the ranch house once the tenants moved out.
I rested my head against the trunk of the tree and sighed, realizing it might be the last move I’d ever make. Once my stuff was unpacked, it would be home.
It was comforting, to know that after a life spent moving from place to place, whether as a military brat, to my life as an adult in the Navy—which had resulted in even more time moving and spent away from home, I’d be finally settling down for good. I’d grown up knowing the ranch would be left to me eventually. I’d always figured it would go to my father, and then passed down to me, but since my father had passed away before my grandfather, it came to me a lot sooner than I’d expected. And while the idea of settling down, and staying in one place, held its own appeal—especially after the fiasco in Vegas, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was missing something.
There was an Everlie shaped hole in my heart, and I knew it would be hard—if not impossible—to fill.
Luckily, I had enough work to do that I’d be able to keep my mind off of her—at least, for a while.
* * * *
&n
bsp; “How’d it go at the ranch today?” My mom, Maureen, asked, as she stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot. Whatever it was, the smell had me salivating like a big, drooling dog waiting for a steak.
I wonder if Everlie cooks like this…she is a country girl…
My mom poured the contents of the pot into a serving bowl and brought it to the table. The thump of the bowl on the table jarred me from the vision of Everlie standing behind a stove, an apron tied around her waist, her hair up in one of her ballerina buns, her graceful neck exposed, just perfect for me to slide up behind her and nibble the soft flesh.
“Uhm, it was good, you know, lots to do,” I answered, before my mind could carry the fantasy further, into a vivid daydream that ended with Everlie naked on the kitchen table. “I was thinking of all the things I should have asked Pappy about.”
My mom smiled and sat down next to me at the farmstyle table she had crammed into the corner of the kitchen. The actual dining room of her home had been turned into a craft room for her and her friends, and she’d refused to give up the table, so she’d squashed it into the kitchen, even though one half of the table was no longer usable as it sat pressed against the window along the wall.
“I’m sure you’ll make him proud,” she said, taking one of my hands into her soft, warm hands. She patted the top, reassuringly. “He left it to you because he knew you had the same love and respect he did. He knew you’d keep it in good shape.”
I smiled, her words were sweet and meant to comfort me but when she said things like that, I was always reminded of how much I missed my grandfather and even my own father, by the stinging pain in my chest. “Well, I have a long way to even getting it back into the shape when he left it,” I replied. “That alone is going to take a lot of work. Sometimes…” I paused, staring down at my clean, white dinner plate. “Sometimes, I think I should have just come home. I should have served the rest of my contract and then come back. Things wouldn’t have gotten so out of control.”
My mom arched a brow at me, her face filled with concern. “Sweetheart, you can’t think like that. What you did was honorable. Sure, having you take over the ranch was your grandfather’s dream, but he wouldn’t have wanted you to leave the military just for that.”
I nodded. I’d made so many choices since the day I’d received the news my grandfather had died, and looking back, I wasn’t sure any of them had been good ones. I hadn’t told my mom about Everlie. I already knew what she’d say. She’d tell me to march my ass back to Vegas and do whatever it took to win her back.
I knew because in the week I’d been home—she’d dropped a handful of hints about grandchildren, so her objective was clear.
“Thanks, mom.” I reached for the spoon that was resting on top of a pile of fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes, but she swatted my hand away, insisting that we say grace first.
After a quick prayer, she served me dinner and we spent the rest of the meal discussing the ideas I’d sketched out for improvements to the ranch.
Chapter Two
Ryker
The next morning, I took a small detour before going to the ranch for the day. I called the Vegas florist that had delivered flowers to Everlie before our first official date, and arranged for her to receive two dozen roses at the dance studio. I knew her last day had to be approaching soon, and wanted to catch her before she was gone. My heart ached, knowing how rough those last few days were going to be for her.
I still couldn’t believe how big of an ass I’d been to her on the last night we’d shared together. After storming out of the room, I’d gone back in to apologize, but Everlie had put her walls back up. Thick, steel, unbreakable walls. She’d ignored everything I said, pushed past me and left my hotel room without another word.
I winced against the memory of the angry blaze crackling in her eyes, lighting the sapphire pools on fire. I’d never seen her so angry before. And she had every right to be angry. I’d overreacted to a ridiculous degree and there was nothing I could do to change that—I was an asshole. Plain and simple.
The worst part was that I didn’t even know why I’d acted that way. I wrote the letter without the intention of Everlie reading it, and with that security in mind, had poured out every unspoken thought and feeling onto the page. However, it wasn’t as if she’d found some scandalous information. I had nothing to be ashamed of by confessing my feelings for her. At the time, I’d said it was because she didn’t trust me. That she’d been caught red-handed, going through my shit.
But that wasn’t the real reason.
It was the fear that had twisted up my gut at the way she’d been ready to bolt out the door after reading the letter. I’d already known I was teetering on the edge of rejection, and instead of manning up and facing it—I’d pushed her away before she had a chance to do the same thing to me.
Selfish prick, I told myself.
I drove down the long, dirt driveway that led to the main house on the ranch. The grooves under my tires were deep and well worn, but the cab rocked and bounced along with the road. I’d made an appointment with the current tenants to be able to inspect the interior of the house in order to plan what work needed to be done once they left. If it weren’t for them waiting on me—I’d have turned and headed down the hillside and just kept driving down the dusty county road until I stopped hating myself.
As it was, the small family of four was waiting on the wraparound porch, waving at me. I parked in front of the house and took a deep breath. I’d met the family on the first trip to the ranch. They were extremely nice and helpful as I reoriented myself with the land.
“Good morning’ Mr. Knight,” Bert, the father, greeted me as I walked up the front steps. We shook hands and I tipped my head to his wife, Heather, and their two young children who clung to the back of Heather, peeking out from each leg and up at me.
“Thanks for letting me come take a look around. It’s going to save me a ton of time in renovations if I have a plan in place.” Bert nodded and ushered me inside, his family following behind. “You guys have been here for a while now, right?” I asked, my eyes circling the main entry of the ranch house. I was assaulted with memories as I looked around. The summers spent with my grandfather came back in droves. I could see myself, six years old, hiking up my boots, and carrying a fishing pole two times as tall as I was, waiting to hand it off to Pappy when he’d finished packing our lunches. At ten, having all my buddies over to play cowboys and Indians in the stables. At twelve, shooting Pappy’s gun out in the back field.
“About six years now, right after Heather and I married,” Bert answered. He stayed by my side, but let me set the pace and direction of the tour.
Six years.
The answer had surprised me. Had it really been that long since the last time I’d been to the ranch? My grandfather had spent the last three years of his life in an assisted living facility. It hadn’t been easy to get him away from the ranch, and I was told, after his death, he’d frequently attempt to return, giving everyone a scare when he’d take off in the night. My heart twisted just thinking about it. In some ways, I was glad I hadn’t seen him that way. I could always remember him the way he was when I was a boy, a strong, broad-shouldered man, with an easy smile, a black cowboy hat, and calloused hands.
The only regret was that I hadn’t been able to properly tell him goodbye. Everyone told me he would’ve understood, but it didn’t quite sooth the wound.
I smiled politely through the knot of emotions in my stomach, and did my best to make small talk as we continued through the expansive house. There were five bedrooms, a formal study, three bathrooms, a kitchen, dining room and a mud room off the kitchen that was mostly a storage space for outdoor gear. I made small notes about each room into my phone. There were minor fixes that needed to be made and a few larger projects I’d need to complete. Overall, the house was in great shape. Something I was extremely relieved to find. I’d built up some picture in my mind of an old, dilapidated house that woul
d take weeks or months to restore. In reality, I mentally estimated that I could have the place gleaming and feeling brand new within a month or so.
When we finished the tour, Heather brought out a pitcher of sweet tea and offered me the first glass. I accepted and she poured mine before filling a glass for her husband and children. “Well, that should about do me,” I said, once the glass was empty. I set it back on the farm house table. I turned to Bert and offered him my hand. “I’d like to thank you for taking such good care of the place. My grandparents loved this place, and I—” My throat closed and I forced a cough to clear it. “It means a lot. Thank you.”
Bert nodded and Heather’s eyes were shiny with tears as we all exchanged handshakes before I left, heading back to the truck. Only when I was safely inside, and backing down the drive, did I let go of the tightly held leash on the swell of emotions and by the time I was pulling out onto the main county road, I was wiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand, swiping away the tears.
* * * *
The rest of the day was melancholy and unproductive. I wandered around the hardware store with unseeing eyes. I tried to gather some basic supplies I’d need for the next day when I started to repair a fence around one of the back pastures, but my mind was elsewhere and I couldn’t think clearly enough to make any kind of decisions. In the end, I grabbed a handful of random items, simply to make my trip and the hours spent browsing, matter. I checked out and loaded everything in my truck, but couldn’t bring myself to return to the ranch and drop it all off. I wasn’t ready to face the ghosts that had come to life earlier. So, I drove back to my mom’s house and unloaded the supplies into her garage, which was now a messy collection of old furniture she’d collected over the years.
Her car was gone, and I found a note inside letting me know dinner was ready for me in the fridge and that she’d be back late. She didn’t specifically say where she was, and I didn’t speculate, knowing it would likely lead me to thinking of her on some kind of date. As though I couldn’t deal with. It would have been easier to deal with that than the shit I was going through now with my emotions exposed and frayed.
