Control (Kenshaw Ranch Book 4)

by Piper Frost

“Control doing okay?”

  Something's gotta give. I can't keep up both these jobs when all I see when I close my eyes is the girl I love bloodied and bruised. I knew I still loved her, but seeing her again made that feeling really punch me in the gut. Then seeing her in distress made the need to protect her, hold her close for life, so strong that it’s killing me she’s gone.

  “Fine,” I say, standing and tossing the brush into the bucket. Even though I had every intention of brushing him down, I can’t concentrate. “I'm heading out.” I'm finding it hard to care about anything but her anymore. I need to get ahold of her. I need her to respond, just to know she's alive.

  I get home to a dark house and head straight for the backyard. Ginnie comes running up to me and greets me like I hung the damn sun. I didn't. I just let a girl that I'm madly in love with go back to her abusive fucking husband and I promised not to tell anyone.

  Three more weeks. Twenty one days. That's how long I'm waiting. If I don't hear anything by then I give up. I'll break my promise, I don't care. I understand that could be too long in her case, but I have a very hard time believing she'd let it get that bad. Who am I to say though? I barely know the girl anymore. But yet I still fucking love her and would die for her in an instant if that's what it came down to. All I've ever wanted is for her to be happy.

  Another week passes and I'm no better of a man. If anything it's worse and Chase is finally picking up on it. I've slammed more drawers in this place tonight than he ever has, and he's the one with the temper between the two of us. I'm usually more laid back than this!

  “The fuck's been your deal, man?” he asks when his final client walks out for the night.

  I'm cleaning up my station, pissed that I worked back to back and didn't even feel a twinge of relief. Usually working here helps me release stress. Usually I come in, ink a few customers, maybe pierce one or two and by the end of the night I feel okay. Tonight just fuckin' sucked all around. I almost fucked up someone's tattoo, which probably would have gotten me kicked out of here, and the nose ring I put in for this teenager bled way too much.

  “Nothing.” I slam a drawer closed so hard it pops back open and mocks me for being such an idiot.

  “I'm not a Kenshaw, fucker. You can talk to me. I'm not a Hart, either,” he says and my heart aches at the mention of her last name. I must make a face because he starts to laugh. “That's what I thought.” He walks over to me and takes the bottle of disinfectant spray from my hand like it's a loaded gun. “Let's have a beer.” He nods toward the stairs and I roll my eyes.

  “I'm fine,” I grumble, trying to push past him but he blocks my way, crossing his arms in front of him.

  “Upstairs or next door, Tommy? I've got alcohol both places, but there’s a lot of ears in this town that like to listen, and you will be telling me what the fuck's been wrong with you lately.”

  “Ain’t Kaydence expecting you home?”

  Fuck, everyone in this fucking town's found themselves the perfect fucking companion. I did too and yet here I sit. Alone and so pissed it makes my skin burn when I think about it. She left me to go back to him. The guy that leaves her so bloodied and bruised she can't even hug someone without being in pain. She'd rather be with him than safe here with me.

  “She's out with the girls tonight. Let's go, man.” He starts his way up the steps to what used to be his old apartment. Over the past year he's turned it into a hangout spot for those of us that work the shop. Spent a shit ton of money updating it but it's what this place needed.

  I begrudgingly follow him, my feet feeling like they're filled with lead as I trudge my way up the steps. By the time I make it he's already in the kitchen popping the top on a beer for me before pouring himself a drink.

  “Welcome to therapy time with Chase. Sit down and spill your guts. I charge extra for criers. Fuckin' pansies.” He chuckles and smiles at me. “No? Not in the mood for joking?” He sits on the recliner and relaxes back.

  “She left, Chase,” I bitch, falling to the couch.

  “No shit. Like three weeks ago, right? That what this is all about? You didn't get enough pussy while she was here?”

  “Fuck!” I bark. “We didn't fuck!” I sigh and take a swig of beer while Chase nods at me silently.

  “So then you're mad you didn’t fuck? There's plenty of girls around this town to take care of that, Tommy.”

  I give him a look that shuts him up and he takes a long drink.

  “You know that's not it, idiot,” I grumble. “Don't write her off as just another girl.”

  “So why did she leave then?” He raises his eyebrows in question. “And why didn't you fuck?”

  “She's...” I swallow the knot in my throat and try to cool my veins as rage courses through them. “She's married,” I growl and he whistles.

  “Holy shit,” he murmurs. “Who else knows?”

  “No one. And you can't tell anyone, Chase. I promised her I wouldn't tell, but it's eating at me somethin' fierce.”

  “So she's married and you're depressed?” He nods. “I mean, I get it. It sucks, but you can't blame the girl. You never told her how you felt. And now she's happily in love with some guy that's probably more into fashion than she is. Give it time. He'll come out of the closet soon enough and she'll come running back.” He crosses his arms in front of him, watching me.

  “That's not it. She's not happily married. That's what's so bad about this whole thing.” I shake my head and he cocks his at me.

  “Not happily married? And she told you this why? You're bein' awfully fuckin' vague, Tommy. You know I ain’t gonna spread shit. I'm the fuckin' king of keepin' things to myself. You know how much shit I hear about everyone in this town workin' on those clients day in and day out? Too much. But I lock it up and I don't let it taint my view of them. Sometimes people just gotta get shit off their chest, so spill.”

  He’s right, but I really wish I took this to Grant first. He’s been so busy with work though, that I’ve only seen him in passing at my place a few nights a week. I live closer to the shop so he’s taken over a room in my house. Chase is second best, and he’s here right now, so I let it go.

  “Shit,” I huff. “He's abusing her.” It feels like acid on my tongue just saying those words out loud.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” he blurts, leaning forward in his chair. “Like verbal shit? And she's takin' it?”

  “Physically.” I groan and rub my hand over the back of my neck.

  “He beats her!?” Chase snaps, shooting out of his chair. “And she went back to him?!”

  “Yeah...” I nod, staring at the floor. “She had so many bruises,” I whisper, a knot in my throat. “Something that looked like a stab wound on her shoulder but there were no stitches so I'm sure she didn't get proper treatment. Scrapes and scabs and bruises all over.” It hurts just to talk about it. “He sent her a message and I saw it. A pi—” I choke out, shaking my head and cursing. I fuckin' told myself when she left I wouldn't cry, but here it is. Motherfucking tears. Tears of rage and anger. “He sent her a picture as some sort of threat or reminder. It was taken right after he beat the hell out of her. She was passed out. Her face was bloody and swollen. There was blood all over the sheets around her,” I whimper. “And she fuckin' went back to him, Chase.” I glance up at him but he's not where he was standing. He's pacing the place, gripping his phone in his hand.

  Chase was always the one kid throughout school that hung out with pretty much anyone. After he graduated he started hanging out with Affton, me, Grant, and Felder a lot more, but he was always in with the Kenshaw crowd. It's pretty fuckin' insane how we're all intertwined now that we've gotten older. That means there’s just that many more people he can tell this to and then she’ll hate me. But, I don’t think he’d do anything unless I give him the go ahead.

  “What's the asshole's name? We're killing him. No one messes with any of our girls.”

  “She ain’t my girl. She made sure to tell me that when she w
as here.” I can still hear her tone when those words fell from her lips like it was no big deal.

  “Fuck that! I'm getting Bo on the fucking phone. This man's as good as dead.” He starts to pull up Hart's number and I panic.

  “No,” I blurt, standing and trying to fight the phone out of his hands. “I promised her I wouldn't tell. You told me you wouldn't repeat this shit!”

  “You're just going to let her get beat?! And not do shit about it?!” I've seen plenty of emotions come out of Chase Haring. This shouldn't intimidate me as much as it does, especially because I've got a couple inches on him and a few years, but it does. Because I think I know deep down that giving her this time she said she needs isn't helping her.

  “Look.” I pull out my phone and pull up the last text I sent her, telling her she's got a month or else. I shove it into his hands and start to pace the room. “That was a couple weeks ago. In a few I'm driving out to Cali and kicking his ass, then dragging hers here.”

  He glares at me, his jaw twitching. ”You’re a stupid man, Tommy, but I get your loyalty to her.”

  “Yeah,” I huff, letting out an annoyed chuckle. “It's fuckin' annoying. I gotta trust she'd get out before it got too bad though. I’m giving her time to get her life in order like she asked. She's smarter than I think she even gives herself credit for anymore. But a month is long enough.”

  “Bo's going to murder him. He may murder you too for keeping this from him.” Chase walks over to the sink and drops his glass in it. “But whatever you do, I'm here for you. You know that.”

  “Thanks.”

  I'd like to think that she'll show up at my door tomorrow morning, but it doesn't happen.

  Nor does it the next day. Or the week after that.

  At the month mark I'm ready. I've talked it over with myself in the fucking mirror like an idiot a hundred different times exactly how I'm going to tell Bo Hart, bull riding champion and incredibly protective man, that I've known for a month that his sister's in an abusive marriage and I haven't done shit about it.

  Who the fuck am I kidding? This is going to be fucking horrible.

  I step up to the Hart’s front door, praying Kinlee and the boy aren't here. This isn't something that they need to witness, because I'm sure when I tell Bo the truth about everything he's bound to lose his shit. I knock on the door and take a step back, shoving my hands in my pockets.

  It takes him a minute but as he approaches the open door, he pauses and rubs his jaw.

  “Tommy, I like you, man, but you showin' up to my house on a Sunday uninvited don't mean nothin' good.” Reaching out, he shoves the screen door open and turns around before I even walk into the house. He walks into the kitchen and when I enter, he's got two beers, holding one out to me.

  “Thanks,” I mutter, my heart beating out of my chest. Nerves never did sit well with me. “Hey, so,” I say, taking a seat. “Have you talked to your sister lately?”

  “Fuck,” he breathes and drops his head. “Tell me. Just tell me.”

  “You sure you don't want to finish that beer first?” I wince at the look he gives me. “Right. So... She's married. For five years. And in one of the most abusive relationships I've ever seen. And she's not responded to me in a month.”

  In a twist I don't expect with his back being as it is, he launches the full beer bottle across the kitchen and I watch as glass and liquid splatter. I don't have time to react when he has me by the throat before I can even look at him. When I dart my eyes to his, he quickly lets me go before I retaliate and he backs up.

  “You fuckin' knew and you didn't tell me?” His tone's quiet, but far from calm.

  “I promised her I'd give her time to figure it out. She came...” I grunt, trying not to get emotional but just remembering her like she was when she showed up last month makes my blood boil. “She was pretty bad when she showed up for the funeral. That's why she didn't stay here. Took over an hour of applying her makeup just to cover it. And from the looks of it, this wasn't the first time. She knows how to hide the bruises and cuts, Bo.” I curse, starting to pace the kitchen. He's watching me, his fists tight. “I feel like an ass, but I thought she left to go get her life in order and she'd call when she did. She's...her husband isn't right in the head. God knows what he'd do to her if he found out she were here for a funeral. She told him she was on a business trip.”

  “Tommy,” he grunts. “Tommy...” His piercing eyes hit mine like a bullet. “If my sister's dead right now...you know what this means, right?” he asks quietly, his tone sounding like rage is about to tip over.

  “I do,” I whisper. “I know exactly what it means. The only thing making me think she's still alive is this.” I hold the phone out to him, showing her online post from two weeks ago. He holds it in his grip then starts to scroll her feed. “Bo, I've loved your sister for over fifteen years. I always assumed she'd come home to me. To us.” My hands shake when he gives the phone back, the rage still burning hot in his gaze. “She can't, though. She's terrified of that man. Watching her on the phone with him? It hurt. Knowing she willingly went back to him?” Fuck. “Scared the fuck out of me when I realized she was really gone.”

  “Five years,” he mutters to himself, the gears turning before he shakes his head. “That don't make sense. She's been distant for about seven.” He looks at me like I have answers. “When'd she meet the dead-man?”

  I let my lips start to lift into a small smirk now that the fear of him murdering me is gone and solely focused on her husband. It falls immediately when I'm brought back to the moment.

  “Don't know. She had a miscarriage when I was about twenty-eight. I think they had been together a while before that so probably about seven years.” I walk to the stool next to their island and take a seat. “We gotta find her, Bo.”

  “What do you mean find her? You don't know where she is? I'm ready to get into my truck and go now. Where the fuck is she?” The panicked anger is coming back and he starts to move around the kitchen.

  “She doesn't talk to me that much.”

  “Y'all were awfully fucking close at my mom's funeral! So y'all don't talk but you'll fuck her when she shows up for a funeral?” That angry glare's back on me.

  “I didn't fuck her!” I belt out. “Fuck, Hart. She needed someone to lean on and you sure as fuck weren't offering a shoulder! If anyone's to blame for her leavin' again maybe it's you. You ever think about that? You pretty much let it be known to everyone around you didn't want your sister to be a part of your fuckin' life!”

  His tense jaw loosens and he starts to speak calmly, slowly. “Had I known my sister was fearin' for her life, I wouldn't have assumed she's got grudges against me and my family.” Storming toward me, his fist slams to the island. “I would have been there for her had I known! You fucking knew!”

  “I know! Fuck!” I stand and run my hands through my hair. “She looked so fucking bad, Bo,” I whisper, shaking my head. “She made me promise I wouldn't tell you. She's my best friend...was. She was my best friend. I've never broken a promise to her before!” My heart's beating wildly and he's looking at me like he wants to kill me for not telling him. Well I fuckin' feel the exact same right about now. “Looking back I should have fucking told you the minute she left without saying anything. I know I'm in the wrong, okay? Can we move past it and find her before he does even more damage?”

  “Call her. Now. Text her.” He's pointing at my phone. “Get her on the fucking phone!”

  “She ain’t gonna answer,” I mutter, dialing the number I've memorized over the years. It goes straight to voicemail and I end the call without leaving a message. “I don't trust leaving her a message in case Corey hears it.” Goddamn, just saying his name out loud makes me want to vomit. “From the looks of what I saw the one night she was in my house, he doesn't trust her an ounce. Wouldn't surprise me if he monitors all her social media accounts and everything.”

  “Corey? Corey what?” He has his phone in his grip but I notice it keeps slippi
ng and his right hand is having a hard time. “Corey what?” he screams. “Pull it up on your motherfucking phone, Barns! Corey fucking what?”

  “Bower. Corey Bower.” I roll my eyes and pull up the man's media page. “That's him.” I slide my phone across the counter to him, clenching my jaw.

  After inspecting it for a minute, his brows furrow. “He's CEO of the company she works for. He's...her fucking boss?” He looks at me and I nod.

  “She feels like there's no way out of it. She's worked her ass off to get where she is. He's threatened her career if she leaves him. He's threatened her life if she walks away,” I growl. “We need her back here, and we need this fucker six feet under, Bo.”

  “Find where he fucking lives right now. Los Angeles is a big fuckin' city, Tommy, and just because that company's located there, don't mean she's livin' there. I want a fucking address. I have to figure out what to do.” He looks around. “We both can't leave the ranch, but I'm not stepping down from this. I would have been there a goddamn month ago had you told me,” he snarls. “We need an address.”

  When he walks away I finally take a drink of the beer he handed me and get to work on trying to find her. He's right. We can't leave the ranch...but we have to.

  The kitchen door opens a half hour after Bo walks out of the room and Kinlee and Bobby happily enter. He runs full speed toward the stairs but she stops in her tracks and looks at me, then glances at the glass and beer mess on the wall and floor.

  “What the hell did you do to my kitchen?” She gestures to the wall. “Tommy, seriously? How the hell old are we? Wh... Where's Bo?” She walks to the bottom of the stairs. “Bo! Get down here!” She storms back over to me and crosses her arms in front of her. “Why are you in my house?”

  “I came to talk to Bo. That ain’t my mess,” I say, nodding to the wall and taking a drink of my beer. “See. My bottle's still fully intact .” I smirk at her and go back to work on my phone.

  “I made the mess,” Bo says and I glance over to see him struggling to hold his kid. Seems like when he's under stress, that nerve issue he's got is worse. “It was the beer or Tommy's head.”