Noah's Journey (Sawyer Brothers #3)

by C. A. Harms

  She shook her head in disagreement.

  “Yes, you are, gorgeous,” I insisted, not allowing her to continue this charade. “I still remember that first night you rolled into town. High heels taller than any damn set of heels I had ever seen.”

  Alena smiled as she closed her eyes, as if she was remembering the moment too.

  I inched a little closer between her parted thighs and slid my hands over her legs. “You had on that tight little red dress that showed off every curve of your body. A perfect body I have not stopped thinking about since. I don’t just say shit I don’t mean, Alena.”

  Our eyes locked, and I began to close the distance between us. “From that moment, a lot of things have happened in my life, but never once have I not craved you. I just have really great discipline, but sweetheart, it’s never been easy.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alena

  There I sat on the countertop, Noah tucked safely between my thighs and a huge emotional knot lodged in my throat. His stare bored into me, as if trying to force me to accept his words.

  “For the first time in a very long time, I’m not afraid of moving forward. I want this, Alena. I want it all.” I swallowed, trying to moisten my throat, because right now it felt like sandpaper. “I want the fights and the making up. I want the cold nights and snuggling up together to stay warm. I want those times when we annoy each other so badly, yet we can’t stomach the idea of being apart.”

  He needed to stop talking, because at this rate, there would never be any hope of me holding back the tears fighting against me.

  “I want to know at the end of a shitty day that I have you to make me feel whole again,” he added, and that was all it took. I blinked rapidly, still trying to control my emotions, but the moment the first tear fell, it was all downhill from there.

  “Tell me you want those things too,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” I replied as I shuddered.

  Everything shifted in that moment as his lips crashed against mine and he fed his hands through my hair and fisted it tightly. Our tongues tangled in a heated kiss.

  After nipping at my lip, he pulled back and began working his way down my neck. The rough feel of his whiskers rubbing against my skin was amazing. Each place he made contact remained sensitive, not letting me forget where he had been. My heart raced as my mind screamed for more. God, I just wanted more, I wanted everything, I needed it.

  When his lips settled at the dip between my breasts, I held my breath, begging for him to continue. “These are amazing,” he groaned as he cupped my breasts. The heat rose in my neck as he pushed my tits up and trailed his tongue along the edge of my bra.

  I reached around, unclasped the hook, and let the lacy material fall away to pool at my waist. A deep moan escaped him as he descended on me like a starving man.

  I felt like I was going to explode with need.

  “I’m gonna take you to bed now, baby—” Noah’s voice was a husky whisper, “—where I plan on making love to you all night long.”

  I shivered as he lifted me from the counter and carefully led us to his bedroom down the hall. Once inside, he lowered me to the bed and began to undress. His eyes remained locked on mine in a heated stare.

  Before he crawled onto the bed, he removed not one, but three condoms from his bedside table and tossed them at my side. A smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth when I looked from the foil packages back to him. Cocking an eyebrow in question, I licked my lips.

  “You up for it?” he asked as he placed one knee on the edge of the bed and began crawling toward me. “Because I have all kinds of plans for us.”

  “I’m more than ready to feel all those plans.”

  With my submitting to his desires, he beamed brightly and lowered his body over mine. As we made contact, it felt as if a switch flipped. My sweet cowboy with his loving words had now morphed into a hungry man. He was driven by lust as he ground his erection against me.

  “You feel so damn good beneath me. So fucking good, Alena,” he growled in my ear.

  Noah held true to his word. For the next five hours, he explored every curve of my body. We only allowed ourselves small breaks in between as he held me close, my head resting just above his heart.

  When I woke the next morning, my body screamed with the achy aftereffects of our night of passion.

  ***

  My phone chimed with yet another message from my father. For some unknown reason, he felt the need to call me at least once a month and express his disapproval of my life choices.

  “You could have had the world, Alena. Expensive cars, the biggest house on the block, and envious onlookers wishing they could live for just one day the lifestyle you were given.”

  His words, not mine.

  But along with all the fancy cars and houses, the life he envisioned for me was a lonely one. My parents had a loveless marriage, and I refused to repeat their choices. I made my own, and I would not let my father, or mother for that matter, dictate who I became. He disagreed when I chose to travel the world, but in reality I just wanted the chance to be away from them. I wanted to take time to figure out what I wanted to do with my life without them hovering.

  He also disagreed when I chose to move to Montana, telling me he would no longer be there to support my idiotic choices. No daughter of his was going to spoil his image.

  I didn’t need him. I found ways to make it on my own. During my travels right out of college, I met people and made contacts that truly supported my choices. Those people were my family now. So I chose to ignore his monthly bashing. I didn’t want him tainting my world. Not anymore.

  Over the last few weeks, things had really developed between Noah and me. Ever since the night we stayed up making love and confessing our desire for one another, our relationship shifted, and that closeness only continued to grow.

  Noah had become just another piece of my newfound world—the world where I chose to be, with or without the consent of my parents.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Noah

  “We got a call about an abandoned car out on Henry Lane. The caller said they noticed it last night, and it was still there this morning,” Ryan said as he rounded his desk and walked toward me. “Wanna ride along to check it out?”

  “Let’s go,” I said as I grabbed for my gun and holster and strapped it in place, but I only brought it along as a precaution. Not much happened in Livingston, Montana. It was a quiet community full of wholesome people. The teenagers and younger adults got a little rowdy at times, but it was all in good fun.

  “Do we have a plate number?” I asked as I followed him out the front of the station toward the patrol car.

  “Nah, old Mrs. Willard can’t see for shit. What she gave me didn’t pan out. I figure when we get out there, we’ll get the correct one and match it with the rightful owner.” Ryan was right; Mrs. Willard shouldn’t even be driving. She was an eighty-nine-year-old, bullheaded widow with a mean streak who refused to allow her children to chauffer her around.

  “That lady freaks me out,” I said with a shiver. “Do you remember when Pop took us with him to clean up her yard after Martin died?”

  Ryan nodded as he winced at the memory.

  “I damned near pissed my pants when she rounded that barn with a shotgun in her hand.” We were teens then, and she thought we were stealing tools from the shed. Apparently, a few kids around town were robbing her blind.

  “I also remember Jackson dropping to the ground and crying like a baby,” Ryan added, and we both laughed. “Once I realized the damn shotgun was a wooden replica, I was so relieved.”

  “She’s one crazy lady, that’s for sure.” We both sat in silence, and I remembered that day with Pop. Hell, he worked us three boys like dogs. Later that afternoon while we were slaving away, he sat on the back porch with Mrs. Willard, drinking iced tea and shouting out demands.

  Us boys silently cussed him for making us spend a Saturday cleaning up some cranky old lady�
�s yard. Now I found the lesson in it. He was making us men. And those memories made me thankful he was as hard on us as he was.

  I was brought out of my daydream when the patrol car slowed to a stop behind the abandoned car. The old silver Corolla didn’t look familiar, but it did have Montana plates.

  Ryan instantly began tapping on the small laptop screen mounted to the dash, searching through the database for the owner’s name. I scanned the area around us as we waited.

  Within seconds, the information we needed popped up on the screen. “Michael Westerfield.” Ryan read off a street address in Dillon, Montana. He tapped the screen and unfastened his seat belt.

  I undid my own, and we opened our doors and crawled out of the cruiser. Ryan walked up to the driver’s side of the vehicle while I took the right, cautiously looking through the windows with my hand on my gun out of habit.

  A movement through the window in the backseat caught my eye, and I immediately pulled my gun and pointed it toward the vehicle. Ryan did the same as he crouched down in a guarded stance.

  “Livingston police,” I announced. “We need you to place your hands in the air where we can see them.”

  Ryan and I remained in place as we waited for whoever was hidden beneath the blanket in the backseat to follow my order. Slowly and cautiously, the occupant began to sit up, holding their hands above them.

  “Keep your hands where we can see them at all times. Do not make any attempt to reach or retrieve any item within the vehicle,” I directed.

  Ryan remained in place, his eyes locked securely on the person, ready to act if necessary.

  I reached for the handle of the door, still holding my gun firmly in my right hand. Ever so slowly, I opened the door, and when the passenger turned and looked up at me, my heart sank.

  The girl couldn’t have been more than eighteen or maybe twenty, and her face was battered and bruised, showing obvious signs of abuse.

  Chills covered my arms and legs, and I slowly lowered my gun and took a step closer to the vehicle. “We’re not gonna hurt you,” I assured her.

  Her lower lip trembled, but she nodded.

  “Did you come here alone?” I asked, and she nodded once again. “What’s your name?”

  “Trinity,” she whispered in a shaky breath.

  “Okay, Trinity, I’m gonna reach out and help you from the car.” I had no intentions of scaring this young girl any more than she already was. My heart broke for her. Her story couldn’t be a happy one.

  Slowly, I reached out, and she placed her hand in mine. I allowed her to move at her own pace, giving her control.

  Trinity kept her other hand out in plain sight, following my earlier orders. “I think my ankle may be broken,” she said and winced as she refrained from placing her left foot on the ground. “It hurts to put pressure on it, and it’s pretty swollen too.”

  “I’m just going to step around you and allow you to lean on me as I move you to the patrol car,” I explained.

  A look of panic covered her face, and she hobbled back, still keeping her hands visible. “Am I under arrest?” She began to shake, and that’s when Ryan rounded the car.

  “Sweetheart, we have no reason to arrest you. We’re here to help you, but you’re gonna have to let us know how we can do that.” The look of worry on Ryan’s face mirrored my own.

  “I don’t think anyone can help me. I’ve tried to get help, but it only made him angrier.”

  That information only pissed me off more. Some man had obviously put the fear of God into this impressionable, frail girl. “Trinity, I can assure you that we will help you. If someone has hurt you, we promise to not let that happen again. But you have to give us a little help here. Tell us who you’re afraid of.” I needed her to understand she could trust us.

  Her uneasy gaze shifted between Ryan and me for a few moments before she finally spoke.

  “My husband,” she whispered.

  She didn’t look old enough to be married.

  “We’ve only been married for three months,” she added. “He never hit me before, but after our wedding night, things changed. I left three days ago, and I was just gonna drive until I found a place to hide out.” She shrugged. “Not a great plan, I know, but I had to leave. Then the car broke down and I crawled in the backseat, deciding that if he found me, there was nothing I could do.”

  “There is something you can do,” Ryan told her. “Let us help you.”

  She nodded once again as tears began to fall down her cheeks.

  We locked up her car, and with Ryan on one side of her and me on the other, we led her toward the cruiser.

  ***

  “She was just hiding in the backseat of her car alone?” Alena asked as she sat down on the barstool next to me.

  I nodded, remembering just how sad and lonely Trinity looked when she first raised her head. Trinity Flores was twenty-one, and so far her young life had been terrible. When she was sixteen, her drug-addicted mother abandoned her. She lived with random friends after that, and some nights on the street. That was until she met Michael Westerfield, a twenty-eight-year-old from Dillon. He had a long record of battery and abuse that he neglected to tell Trinity about. She was young and looking for security, and when he made her feel as if he could offer her that, she fell for his lies.

  Now she was paying the price.

  After a few hours at the station, going over detail after detail of the horror she had endured, we issued an arrest warrant through the Dillion Police Department. A while later, they notified us they’d picked up Mr. Westerfield and were detaining him on domestic battery and sexual assault charges.

  Trinity would live with the hell Michael had put her through for the rest of her life, and she would fear men and their intentions. And that thought made my chest feel hollow.

  I texted Alena when my shift ended, and Ryan did the same with Amber. After a day like we had, we needed a drink. Both girls promised to meet us at Roger’s, our go-to place when we needed to get shitfaced.

  “So where is she now?” Alena asked from my left as I lifted the beer to my mouth.

  After taking a pull, I tilted my head in her direction. “She’s staying over at the church for a few days until she finds another place to stay.”

  Concern washed over her face instantly. “She doesn’t have any family?”

  I nodded and motioned for another round for me and Ryan. He sat at my right, Amber’s arms curled around his neck in a soothing manner.

  “Is she gonna stay in town?” Alena asked, and I shifted my gaze back to meet hers. “Because I was just thinking I could use some help around the store, and I have a spare room.”

  I stared at her in awe. She was so unbelievably selfless. We were talking about a complete stranger—one who was down on her luck, yes, but a stranger still—yet here Alena was looking out for her. Without saying a word, I placed my hand around the back of her neck and pulled her close. She let out a little yelp as her body fell into mine, and I stood immediately, turned her, and pinned her back against the bar. With my chest pressing firmly against her, I covered her lips with my own.

  The clink of the beer glass as Wayne, the bartender, placed it on the counter pulled me out of the heated kiss. Staring into one another’s eyes, we both took a moment to regain control.

  “You’re so kind,” I whispered, still holding her close. “There aren’t that many people out there that would be willing to offer what you just have.”

  “I know what it’s like to feel alone,” she said with sadness, and that’s when I realized there were still things I didn’t know about Alena. “Sometimes you just need to be shown there are kind people in the world. One little gesture of hope could lead to a lifetime of success and love.”

  “I promise to never let you feel alone again,” I assured her, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.

  I meant it. Never again would I be foolish enough to not appreciate how truly exceptional Alena was. She was beautiful both inside and out.

/>   Chapter Twenty-Three

  Alena

  “If you keep poking me with those damn needles, I swear to you, woman, I am gonna kick you.”

  I looked up from kneeling before Bailey and laughed. I was pinning the unfinished wedding dress at her waist, and on more than one occasion I had poked her hip with a straight pin.

  “I thought you loved being poked,” I replied with a smirk, and she narrowed her eyes.

  “Smartass,” she huffed.

  Just then Trinity, my new friend, roommate, and employee, exited the back room carrying a pile of silk nighties. The things were so hard to keep on the shelf. Apparently the women of Livingston loved lingerie; who would have thought?

  “I thought I’d restock the lingerie section,” she said. She was still standoffish with anyone but me. It took over a week of sharing the same apartment before she felt comfortable being in the same room with me for more than ten minutes. She was still warming up to Bailey and Amber, but I knew she would come around.

  “Yeah, thanks. That would be great.” I offered her a smile as she walked past me and got to work.

  “I don’t think I ever told you how great it is that you gave her a fresh start,” Bailey said in a hushed tone. “It’s truly heartwarming, Len. It’s one of the reason I love you so much. You truly have the biggest heart.”

  I shrugged, refusing to accept I had done anything special. “It was nothing. She’s a good person who deserves happiness. She just had to learn that for herself.”

  “Well, whether you want to admit it or not, I think you’re pretty damn awesome,” Bailey stated as though it was a matter of fact.

  Breaking the heart-to-heart moment, because the last thing I wanted to do was cry, I smirked up at her. “So, speaking of getting poked, have you and Jackson got it on it the barn lately?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and I laughed.