Desire (Montana Dreams Book 3)

by Jarrod, Cait

  “No need.”

  “What’s with not letting me finish a sentence?”

  “Hormones, I guess.” Moving away from her horse, she waved her hands in front of her. “I’m not choosing sides between you and Cadence. I can’t. I couldn’t bear to lose my best friend.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Matt said as he entered the barn. “You planning on going for a ride?” He narrowed his eyes on his wife. “Against doctor’s orders.”

  “He said nothing about riding.”

  “Bedrest mean anything?”

  “Oh, bother!” She kissed Bradley’s cheek. “It’ll all work out. Just use your horse whispering talent on Cadence. You’ll see. She’s putty in your hands and neither of you know it.” Trina stroked Cimmerian’s forehead. “You really should have called him Stud Muffin.”

  Cimmerian nodded his head as if in agreement. “Or the other name you begged me to call him.”

  “Blackie.” Matt moved forward and flicked his gaze between Matt and Trina. When her forehead wrinkled, he winked. “I was there, remember? I was always there.”

  The same thought Bradley had toward Cadence.

  “Yeah, I do.” Trina smiled and leaned her head against her husband, and Bradley’s heart clenched. He wanted that type of unconditional, no-doubt love.

  ****

  Panting heavier than his horse, he slowed Cimmerian to a walk at the edge of the woods, and followed a trail between the base of the mountain and a stream while he sucked in deep breaths. The horse glided through the field and over slight gullies.

  Three years younger than him, Cadence, the dark-haired, green-eyed beauty stayed in his mind, his opinions challenging the facts the entire ride. His chest grew tight, and his breathing tighter, until the hope for a brain-dead ride transformed into a probable-brain-dead-end. Realizing he needed to focus on his horse, Bradley gave Cimmerian a pat. The stallion hadn’t been out in months and, in unfamiliar surroundings, would no doubt spook and buck his ass into the wind.

  He brought them to a halt, slipped off his mount to the dirt and leaf-covered ground, and let a rein hang to the ground. Showing Cimmerian a palm, the signal to stay, he then moved toward the mountain’s edge. Taking a couple deep Big Sky Country breaths, his body relaxed, and his air supply returned.

  Crisp mountain air drifted, blowing his hair and bringing an earthy scent with the sounds of water falling. Not at a high elevation, the beauty of the area still awed him. The blue sky peeked through white, puffy clouds. Trees budded and the evergreens’ coloring darkened. The snow cover that closed Divine and Destiny Tours in January and the early part of February had melted, all signs that spring was actually trying to make a presence. In southern Montana, the weather went either way: knee-deep snow or clear, nippy days.

  A war waged inside him. Part of him knew Cadence wasn’t to blame while the other wouldn’t let go of her actions, casting him aside as if what happened was his fault. His internal battle of opinion versus fact continued.

  No one predicted the future, not her, not him, not the moon. He slumped to the ground, bent a jean-covered knee to rest an arm, and twirled a twig between his fingers. No one could have foreseen the accident. For her to beat herself up over it was ridiculous. Her kicking him aside was even more so. He pushed that thought away and went with what would have happened if he’d picked Trina and Cadence up that nightmarish night? The same SOB would have hit him. His reaction time might have been better than the driver’s, but who’s to say?

  Or a worse thought, what if Cadence hadn’t drank and chose to drive? The twig snapped in his fist. She would have… He squeezed his eyes against the tears. Hell, her fate might have been the same as the driver. “Not good.”

  “What isn’t?” Matt approached on horseback and slid off his black and white spotted Paint. He dropped a rein, gave his horse the stay command, and walked in front of Travis’ chestnut-colored Morgan. Rufus barked their arrival.

  He’d been so deep in thought, he missed two horses and a dog approaching. He raised his jacket collar as much to ward off the slight breeze as his disgruntled thoughts. “Damn.”

  “My sentiments.” Travis plopped on the ground beside him. “Great view. Autumn needs to see it.”

  “You haven’t brought her to the waterfall yet?” Matt flanked Bradley’s other side. “What’s up with that?”

  “Can’t say.” Travis petted his dog, sitting beside him as if he were one of the guys. In a way, he was. Rufus’ head reached the same height as his owner.

  “You two are notorious for finding unusual places to hook up,” Matt said. “I figured you’d be here by now. Or is this too ordinary, too lame?”

  Heat invaded Bradley’s groin as he wondered if Cadence would be as adventuresome. He sure as hell hoped so.

  “Just haven’t gotten to it yet,” Travis said, interrupting his thoughts and stopping him from dwelling on his wants when he didn’t even know if he and Cadence had a chance. From experience, she liked sex fast, hard, and passionate. During their one night together, his overheated body, so desperate to have her, jumped on board never considering rights or wrongs or holding anything back. He’d kissed, caressed, and murmured words he never expected to say to anyone while his body showed her how much he adored her.

  “What say you?”

  Matt’s sarcastic tone infiltrated his brain. “What’s that?”

  “What’s the most original thing you’ve done to impress the girl?” Travis held out his hands in front of him, his fingers spreading stiffly apart. “And I don’t mean in bed. I stomached the ground to catch Autumn’s ferret.”

  Bradley scratched a finger along his neck. “Come again. You did what? And for her what?”

  Travis reared back and hooted. “Yeah, I’d leap for that too, but I’m talking about her pet ferret. The stinkpot—”

  Bradley silently laughed at the nickname Travis gave Hopper.

  “He was stuck on a tree limb hanging over a cliff and fell.”

  “Son of a bitch!” He couldn’t image how he’d save the ferret. “Did you stomach a rock to save him?”

  “No, my back took a beaten on that save. The guide rope hooked to my belt saved me from falling.”

  Bradley whistled. “Travis, the rescue man. You can take the man away from the job, but you can’t take the protector out of the man.”

  “Ha! Something like that.”

  Matt cleared his throat until he and Travis eyed him. “I built Divine for Trina. Build it and she will come.”

  “I remember that movie,” Bradley said, “Field of Dreams.”

  “Montana Dreams,” Matt offered.

  “That woman has you whipped.” The corners of Travis’ mouth moved out and up, twitching, and his cheeks bulged. “Tough military guy talking spank.”

  Bradley eyed his brother-in-law, remembering the day he first saw the fake leg. He and Travis went to the footbridge along the Potomac River in Virginia, the secret place Trina would meet Matt, to inform him of Trina’s accident. Matt had passed out drunk on the bridge while his leg lay below, along the water’s edge. “You’re doing great getting around,” he said without thinking. Usually he kept his thoughts about the injury to himself. He didn’t want Matt to relive the explosion that had stolen the lives of fellow Marines and ripped off the lower half of his leg from the knee down.

  “Yeah. It’s a slight inconvenience.” Matt rubbed the spot above where the prosthetic hooked into place. “I don’t think about it much. So, what about you? What have you done to impress the girl?”

  “Matt, you got to have a girl to impress. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t.” He wished the opposite, wished that he had Cadence, and wished his head was on straight to see through the darkness engulfing the intimacy he and Cadence once shared.

  “That’s not exactly right,” Travis said. “You got one. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in knots. ” His gaze went distant, as if his thoughts drifted into the clouds that now hovered between the mountains. “Don’t ever
be so self-absorbed—”

  “That you don’t see another’s pain,” Matt finished. “Our dad’s philosophy.”

  “Profound.” Now he was catching on to this confession game. “You tracked me to probe about the girl.” No doubt, Travis’ search and rescue training had helped to find him. “Did your wives put you up to this?”

  “Hey, now!” Travis tossed a stick over the ledge. “I can think for myself.”

  Matt snorted. “Sure you can, Grandma.”

  Bradley hadn’t heard Matt call his brother Grandma in years, not since they were teens and Travis was acting father, mother, and brother. Listening to them tease each other lifted the heaviness. Each guy went through struggles to get to this place in life, one where a person smiled just because. He wanted that. He wanted it with Cadence, and darn if he was gonna let a confused woman’s past actions discourage him.

  Cadence didn’t have the best upbringing. Her parents worried more about how to put money in their bank account than investing time in her, not unlike his childhood. He and Trina had been there for Cadence, but there was one major difference in her situation. Cadence went home at night to a loveless house. Bradley and Trina had each other. They’d meet in the kitchen late at night to snack on cake, or grab a bottle of wine and go to the rooftop outside of Bradley’s window. Cadence never had a go-to sibling to unite forces with against her parents. Her challenges were confronted alone.

  A tight band clenched his chest as adrenaline shot through his veins, bolting him off the ground and mounting Cimmerian. He had to get to Cadence as quick as possible. With her reckless behavior lately, he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t seek out some joe-blow to take away the pain. The same shit she’d been doing. He knew this. Why in the hell did he leave her alone? “Selfish prick,” he muttered, condemning himself before shouting, “Gotta go!” over his shoulder.

  ****

  Gravel crunched under the wheels of Cadence’s car. Every noise since she left Divine accentuated in the car as she drove to the bar on the outskirts of town. The place no one talks about, the place where the roughest crowds mix. Not her usual type of bar to pick up a man, but desperate times brought on stupid acts. Even knowing this, she opened her car door, smoothed down her jeans, and tucked in her long-sleeved cotton shirt. Changing out of what she wore to the corral seemed fruitless. Why bother when she’d toss her clothes into a pile at first chance?

  Being with Bradley brought back memories of what life had been like before the accident, before she knew her actions didn’t involve just her. The pain, the guilt had to vanish. Bad boys played in bars like these. The acid spiraling through her needed a bad boy, a very bad boy to shove her into a place where what she’d done wasn’t the worse thing she survived.

  When Bradley left her standing in the barn, she succumbed to the storm raging inside. Fell to her knees and cried. It wasn’t until her head pounded, and her nose grew stuffy that she realized this pain had to stop. A new pain to cover up the old. Some people cut themselves to alleviate the pain, not her, though she thought about it once, years ago. She had believed the reason her mother was never home had to do with her: not getting good enough grades, not keeping her room clean enough, and not living up to her parents’ expectations.

  Thankfully, she chickened out, especially glad when she’d learned of her mother’s affair. Still, the pieces chipped out of her soul from that experienced stayed gone. Somehow for reasons she couldn’t explain, her actions that resulted in losing the baby brought out an ache from deep within and intensified her past ten-fold. Maybe she wasn’t the strong person she thought she’d become. Maybe the fear of not living up to the Lovett parents’ approval tore her apart more than she realized. Whatever the reason, she was done fretting over it.

  Outside the bar, heavy-metal music blasted. Cigarette and cigar smoke, even the smell of marijuana, seeped out of the building seams. Yeah, this was the perfect place to forget. The no-smoking laws didn’t exist, which meant the police must not come around. Taking in a deep breath of Montana air, she opened the door at the end of the building and squinted. Scruffy-headed, bearded men narrowed their dark eyes, barely visible in the low lighting as they puffed on whatever stuck between their fingers.

  Oh, boy. Maybe she did get in over her head. She moved over to the bar, her hands shaking, and plopped on the stool. “A draft whenever you get a chance, please.”

  A man, with a bald eagle and American flag tattooed on his arm, nodded his head and sucked on his upper lip. The scar above his right eye became noticeable as he walked toward her, mug in hand.

  “Are you in the right place?” He placed the mug in front of her and braced his meaty palms on the worn bar.

  She didn’t know what he meant, but the weight in his words and the gleam in his dark eyes insinuated she’d best leave. Burying her pain was one thing, getting killed was another. “Um no. I don’t think I am.” Sliding a five on the counter, she swallowed half her drink. “Thank you,” she said, her voice stronger than a moment ago, and edged backwards off the wooden stool. The bartender, the size of a bear, gazed at something behind her and grimaced. Oh shit!

  “Keep it.” He spun and moved to the other end of the bar without a backward glance. Heavy, hot air hit her, and went straight through her shirt. The foul breath wasn’t the kind that gave a girl tingles. It was the kind that scared a person, disgusted them, enough to vomit. A dull pain grabbed her lower stomach and she doubled over. Holding onto her barstool, she bent over, puked, and rushed for the exit.

  A tattooed covered hand hit the wood door and slammed it in her face.

  “No-o-oo!”

  “Come on, sweetheart.” Cigarette smoke and some other type of odor she didn’t recognized assaulted her senses. “Don’t think you can walk into our cave, looking sexy in those cowgirl boots, and waltz out.” The man latched onto her wrist and twisted it behind her. His nasty, hot breath puffed along her face, close to her mouth. “You’ve got to put on a show first.”

  Dread, as she’d never experienced, ransacked her nerves. Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped and prayed this was all a bad dream, that her stupid actions wouldn’t become a horrible reality.

  “Open those peeps.”

  She didn’t.

  “Easy way or hard way.”

  Her muscles trembled and sweat flowed out of her pores. She never stunk so fast or so much in her life. Sucking in a deep breath, she focused on what to do—knee him in the crotch or plunged her elbow into his stomach. Either way, she had to look at him so she opened an eye.

  He sneered. Crooked, black teeth that looked like they had never seen a toothbrush flashed a malicious grin. She choked in a breath to stop from smelling his vile odor.

  “Either you perform or I’ll make you.” Wooly eyebrows narrowed to angry slits. A hard-edged jaw, and fat lips with a scar slicing the corner, tightened and the veins in his neck bulged.

  Knee or elbow?

  Eyeing the areas to take him down, her muscles knotted and she craved to fall to the floor and slither out of the bar. His belly and crotch were unrecognizable. Layers of rolls hid the top portion of his legs.

  She moaned, and he growled, snapping her attention to his face. Eyes, black as a spade, danced in different directions until they darkened even more and zeroed in on her. Their gleam sent an eeriness over her that begged her to run, to get the hell out before the worst came.

  But her feet refused to move. In the past, she’d always had some control. The accident, Bradley, everything. Her brained had worked. Right now, it went on hiatus and left a shivering skeleton in its place. As if the guy needed backup, a dozen men moved closer. What the hell have I done?

  “Go!” He grunted and lifted the arm not holding her. A hook at the end of it pinched together like tweezers and aimed for her breast.

  The primal response to scream lodged in her throat. Her body escalated into a full tremor. Ohmygod! Ohmygod! Let me move! Let me move! Her breathing rushed out, and a suffocating feeling launched i
tself on her chest. Act now! On a harsh puff of air, she lifted her knee, smacked him in the overlapping gut, and broke free of his grasp. She race toward the door. Angry mutters and yells of “Get her!” followed her. Fear and dread parked itself in her stomach. The door, only a foot away, seemed like a mile. She stretched out a hand, ready to touch the smoothness of the doorknob, when a hand hit her chest and shoved. She flew backwards, hit the cement floor. Pain pierced her body. She curled into a fetal position. If they think she was dead, maybe they’d leave her alone.

  “I warned you!” The hooked man roared.

  The dead act didn’t work. She scooted backwards on her butt, crab-walk style.

  “Get the fuck up there!” he ordered as one of his nearby cronies jerked her arm until she stood and shoved her toward a stage in the center of the room. A dull silver pole rose from the middle of the platform.

  On shaky legs, she inched forward. Breathing grew difficult, unbearable. Her pulse mirrored the spirit of her stallion. The crowd of male-filth and gross-women lifted their mugs as their mouths opened. She heard nothing. The pole on the stage warped into a moving, squiggly snake. Her legs morphed to noodles. She was going down, about to pass out. It’d be better than knowing what they’d do. Maybe they’d shoot her up with heroin before they took advantage. To live through what was about to take place… The cold sensation of ice slid down her spinal column, leaving her numb. How did she let herself get this far? Why did she not stay home in Maryland? And lord, why didn’t she stay in Bradley’s arms? Nothing she did deserved this. She reached the stairs to take her punishment and slipped to her knees, her hands hit a step. Too weak and too scared, she teetered to her butt and fell to the concrete floor.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Bradley reached Divine’s stables, Cadence’s white BMW barreled out of the parking lot, gravel flying. He put Cimmerian in a stall and didn’t bother removing the saddle before racing to his truck and chasing after her.