Left For Wild: A Stranded in the Wilderness Romance

by Harloe Rae

  Copyright © 2020 by Harloe Rae, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner and the publisher listed above, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or purely coincidental.

  Editing: Librum Artis Editorial Services

  Cover Artist: Book Cover Kingdom (www.bookcoverkingdom.com)

  Photographer: Rafa G. Catalá

  Cover Model: Hugo

  Interior Design: Champagne Book Design

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Novels by Harloe Rae

  Dedication

  Playlist

  About This Book

  Epigraph

  Prologue

  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

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Epilogue

  What to Read Next

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Reclusive Standalones

  Redefining Us

  Forget You Not

  #BitterSweetHeat Standalones

  Gent

  Miss

  Lass

  Silo Springs Standalones

  Breaker

  Keeper

  Loner

  Watch Me Follow

  Ask Me Why

  Left For Wild

  This one is for my mama.

  And all the wild hearts that refuse to break.

  To perseverance and courage.

  And following what you know is right even when that choice is less favorable.

  Jealous by Labrinth

  One Margarita by Luke Bryan

  Jar of Hearts by Christina Perri

  Safe & Sound by Taylor Swift and The Civil Wars

  Skinny Love by Birdy

  Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Aplin

  Broken Ones by Jacquie

  Will You Still Love Me by Daisy

  Unsteady by X Ambassadors

  Comethru by Jeremy Zucker

  Dancing On My Own by Calum Scott

  Sad Song by We The Kings (feat. Elena Coats)

  Stone Cold by Demi Lovato

  Lost Boy by Ruth B

  Fix You by Coldplay

  Listen to the playlist on Spotify HERE!

  Arrested. Wrongfully accused. Sentenced to ten years.

  But the steel bars release me early.

  After serving half of my time for a crime I didn’t commit, they grant me parole—with a very short leash. My second chance at freedom begins now, and I won’t waste it. I should’ve been paying more attention.

  Ambushed. Captured. Stranded.

  When I wake in the depths of a snowy forest, all seems lost. I’ve been left alone in the wilderness with zero means of escape. Until someone rouses beside me.

  I recognize Blakely Cross instantly, yet she’s barely more than a stranger. Now she’s stuck with me in the worst possible place, as collateral damage.

  Blakely blames me, and rightfully so. This entire situation is my fault. Our destinies are inadvertently twisted together by forces far larger than us. Whether she hates me or not, we need each other to stay alive.

  Cope. Adapt. Persevere.

  They tossed us out to be buried, but underestimated our determination. The bond we’re building will overcome the harshest conditions.

  And we’re not willing to surrender.

  I’d never been in a situation where survival was questioned. My life had been safe and predictable. One flicker of a moment changed all of that. Everything I’d previously relied on went up in smoke, but he was there to manage the flames.

  —Blakely Cross

  Survival tip #1: Weakness is only created when given the opportunity to grow.

  An all too familiar buzz precedes the fluorescent flash of lights, alerting me that the morning rounds are starting soon. I’m already wide awake. Catching a decent night’s sleep in the pen still manages to elude me.

  Rows of warped bars flash in and out of my vision against the pitted ceiling. The resounding bang of metal slamming shut vibrates my bunk, rusty cogs grinding and grating on what little sanity hasn’t been mutilated. Approaching footsteps haunt my nightmares, offering solace on one side and consequence on the other. Punishment in this place is not an option to explore. That’s a damn harsh lesson I’ve come to learn.

  I’ve been left to rot for more than eleven hundred days. There are thousands left to go on my bullshit sentence. This cell is bound to be the end of me, death in a cage of reinforced steel and stained concrete. The damn draft that doesn’t quit whistling at all hours of the day. Water droplets ping off every surface, scattering my thoughts faster than a torrential downpour. A discolored window offering a distorted view of what’s been stolen from me.

  “Get your asses up, inmates!” The guard’s bellow booms along the narrow hallway, seeping into every crevice across this block.

  His warning signals thirty minutes until we’re allowed to roam free from the confinement of our individual cages. A ferocious hum pulses in my veins at the reminder. My escape beyond these four walls is never long enough. Nothing is given without paying a steep price. A few random hours to wander around the commons. Rushed meals in the mess hall. Strictly monitored afternoons in the yard. Precious moments in the gym and rec hall, if earned. The occasional meeting with my lawyer. All of it is too damn rushed and cramped.

  After three years, I should be used to the punishing routine. But what’s worse than being locked up in prison and watching life circle the drain? Not committing the damn crime that tossed me in here. That didn’t matter when an entire fleet of underground forces was fighting against me. The gavel pounded down, and my charges were officially hammered into record.

  They stamped my one-way ticket without hesitation or hearing me out. It almost seems like a bad dream, even all these months later. Every soul trapped inside this version of hell will shout their innocence if given the chance. No one wants to willingly admit their wrongdoings, especially when it puts a bigger target on their back.

  In my case, the fault lies heavily on my inability to put the fucking puzzle together. All I’m guilty of is getting involved with the underbelly of society, albeit unknowingly. I was a pawn in their game of corruption. Getting on their payroll was a grave mistake that cost me more than any dirty amount dumped into my ban
k account. The men who framed me were good at their job. Too good, hence my extended stay at Streebston Correctional Facility.

  The slow clip of boots on concrete pauses in front of my cell. “You better be awake, Rane.”

  I straighten, hauling myself from the sorry excuse of a mattress. “No other way to be.”

  “Fix your damn cot before I’m forced to come in there.” His sharp command is meant to rattle me. I’ve been here long enough to let the idle threats slide by.

  With a roll of my shoulders, I set to making the bed. A quick yank to the blanket is all it takes. I spin around to face the door. “Better?”

  His eyes narrow into slits. “I haven’t had enough coffee to deal with any shit.”

  “Me either.” I hold up my palms.

  He gives me a snort for that. “Always so damn clever.”

  I keep my lips pressed together. The guards get some underlying thrill by toying with us. He’s talking to me for a reason, but ruining his fun won’t get me released from under his thumb any faster. Quite the opposite, really. We exchange a silent stare, his begging for mine to break. The delay drags on for another minute before he finally relents.

  “That damn lawyer of yours is already causing a scene in the lobby. We made him wait until proper visitation hours. I’ve decided to be nice and let you meet with him early.”

  “How very kind of you,” I mutter.

  “I have my moments.” His retort resembles a sneer. “Ready to whine about your supposed innocence for the umpteenth time?”

  “Damn straight.”

  A quick jerk of his head. “Just a bunch of hot air.”

  For him, maybe. This is my damn life wasting away. I’ll never quit fighting to get out.

  “Arms where I can see them,” he barks.

  I follow immediately, adopting the standard position protocol dictates. The mechanic buzz of disengaging locks gets me wired hotter than a punch to the gut. Corroded gears grind in protest and scrape against my nerves. Stepping out of this box is a hit of potent relief. I can almost taste the soothing balm sliding down my throat. But I school my features, giving nothing away.

  The guard motions me forward. “Your hands are far from being clean, inmate.”

  A snarl curls my upper lip. “I could say the same of you.”

  He leans into me, way closer than necessary. “I’m not stupid enough to get caught.”

  With a shove, he steers me toward the visitation area. A woman exits one of the private rooms in front of us. With hair the color of melted chocolate, she immediately catches my eye. Those cascading waves tumble around a pair of slender shoulders and shine under the harsh fluorescent lights. A grumble leaves me, from my stomach and parts below the waist. She’s a damn vision, one I have no right to see.

  A deep inhale grants me a whiff of the sweetest smell. Her perfume prods at a faint memory of what nature smells like after a rainstorm. That fresh aroma chases away the ever-present and pungent stench of mold. She’s a calm breeze in the peak of summer, and turning me into a drooling hound.

  The moment our gazes clash should’ve felt like an invasion. With a single glance into those bottomless baby blues, she strikes too deep. That’s a serious offense in our current surroundings. Any prolonged amount of eye contact could get a person shanked in the joint. But this woman is openly staring as if she doesn’t have a choice. I find myself ensnared in her flame just the same.

  For her sake, this better be the one and only time she visits. Places like this tarnish anything pure and decent. She doesn’t belong within fifty miles of this toxic dump. I absently wonder what’s brought her by. That curiosity wiggles into my foggy thoughts as I continue to gawk. Her smile is shy and reaches the weak spots I keep hidden beneath the layers of scars. I want to return the grin, maybe tack on a wink, but exchanging flirty gestures is pointless. She’s a distraction I can’t afford. But I’m only human, and a starving man at that. I allow my gaze to linger for another beat, catching the tilt as her glossy lips tip higher. This woman is the type of trouble that wars begin over.

  A slap to my back makes me stumble. “In your wet dreams, inmate. Pick your damn jaw up off the floor.”

  The guard’s breath is hot on my neck. My first instinct is to shove him off me. It takes every ounce of inner strength to remain indifferent. I grind my molars and keep moving. “Not sure what you’re talking about.”

  His laugh is lacking any trace of humor. “Chicks like her aren’t meant for you. That piece of hot ass will be mine later. I’ll be sure to tell you how good she looked sucking my dick.”

  Before I can punch his teeth out, we arrive at the conference room where Paul is waiting for us. My lawyer is no dummy. One glance at my face probably shows I’m seconds away from getting thrown in solitary.

  “You good, Halder?” If I wasn’t paying Paul to restore my freedom, it might appear that he actually cares about my wellbeing. Maybe he does. I’ve been his client for years, and there are only more to come.

  A grunt comes from behind me. “He’s got his panties in a twist over that sexy social worker who’s been coming by lately. But our boy doesn’t need to worry about her. She’s all mine.”

  Paul surveys my expression with a knowing appraisal, nodding at the guard’s explanation. “Glad to hear it. Thanks for escorting him over.”

  He snorts again. “Just doing my job.”

  “And you do it so well. But if you’ll excuse us?” My attorney signals for me to enter the small space, and I gladly comply. I can’t get out of that asshole’s sight fast enough. Paul closes the door behind us and takes a seat at the table.

  “Hey, you surviving?”

  I drag a hand through my shaggy hair. “Barely. This place is really getting to me. I need outta here, man.”

  He taps a pen against his notepad. “Well, let’s see what we can do about that today.”

  Survival tip #2: There’s always a choice. Never reveal which one is forced.

  “You’re getting released.” Paul slaps a file folder down on the table between us. As my lawyer for the past five years, he’s had his fair share of delivering updates on my case. His news is almost always bad, so I’ve come to expect the inevitable letdown. But this bomb he just dropped is of a different variety entirely.

  It’s safe to admit I’m not prepared for this punch to the gut. The metal chair squeaks under my shifting weight. “Don’t fuck with me, man.”

  “You honestly think I would at this point?” The question is rhetorical and completely unnecessary. He’s the only person who’s been diligently attempting to uncover the injustice I’ve suffered.

  I allow a grin to twitch at the corner of my mouth. “No shit. The charges are finally getting dropped?”

  Paul scrubs a hand over his jaw. “The probation board is willing to grant you parole for good behavior.”

  A bitter taste lands on my tongue. “Ah, so they’re not planning on reversing the ruling?”

  “We’ve tried, Halder.”

  “But nothing has changed.” My voice is devoid of the slight relief displayed moments ago.

  His responding sigh is one I’m familiar with. Whatever he’s about to say is something I won’t appreciate. “Continuing to fight for a retrial could take another couple of years. By then, you’ll be released because this sentence will be served in full. This way, you’re getting out early.”

  “Yet I’m still considered guilty.”

  “Does it really matter at this point?”

  I slam a fist onto the table, rattling the contents of Paul’s briefcase. “Fuck yes, it does. Proving my innocence will always be top priority.”

  “And there’s no arguing that. This is a losing battle for now, though. Leaving you locked up for a minute more than required goes against my moral judgment. I’ve been considering all alternatives, no matter what it takes. Finding a more desirable outcome has been my goal. I think we’ve reached the point of agreeing on that.”

  A churning swirls in my gut, inky and
putrid. The cyclone settles into a solid mass I can’t swallow down. “I refuse to accept defeat.”

  Paul rolls his eyes. “You’re not, Halder. We’re looking at the big picture. Don’t be such a pessimist.”

  I stretch my arms out wide. “That’s fairly impossible considering the shitstorm my life has become.”

  “Which is precisely why you need out, by any means necessary.”

  That’s the second reference he’s made with hints of desperation. I stare at him, attempting to uncover any alternative motivations. But this guy has done far more than prove his loyalty. At this stage, I trust Paul more than myself. “All right, tell me what happens next in this grand scheme of yours.”

  He averts his gaze, and my stomach sinks into a deeper pit. “Well, uh, you need to attend a hearing.”

  The initial prickling of wariness eases slightly. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

  He steeples his fingers in front of his lips, hiding the tension building there. “Listen to me before blowing a gasket, okay?”

  I let a scoff loose. “You act as if I’m so unreasonable.”

  A single brow arches my way. “They’ll expect you to own up to the crimes you’ve been convicted of. Explain to them how you’ve seen the light and are turning over a new leaf. You’re a changed man and all that. The whole reformed criminal speech. I can write it down for you.”

  I blink at him while trying to calm the raging thunder in my veins. “You’re asking me to apologize? Grovel?”

  His features pinch further. “I’m advising you to take this bargain and get the fuck outta prison.”

  It’s hard to argue when he puts it that way. “When?”

  “Could be tomorrow or the next day. Definitely before the weekend. The paperwork is already being processed. All you really have to do is show up and keep that temper in check. Mouthing off won’t grant you any favors. But don’t worry, I’ll be there with you.”