The Heart of Falcon Ridge (The McLendon Family Saga, #1)

by D. L. Roan

  The last person Mason expected to see when he stepped back into the barn was Grey. The smile on his face fell and he steeled himself against the urge to punch him straight in the gut. All that would accomplish would be to push him further away from them.

  He could see the war Grey was fighting with himself, felt it even, but like a stubborn thoroughbred, he would have to let Grey make the first move toward trusting in himself, and them. The old saying you can lead a horse to water came to mind. Grey was his own man. He was a control freak. Mason knew that asking for help was going to be damn near impossible for Grey. He also knew it was inevitable and he was determined to be there for his brother when that time came.

  Instead of challenging him, he simply nodded and walked to one of the far stalls in the back of the barn. He picked up a curry comb and began grooming one of his prize brood mares, Darza. When Grey leaned his arms over the stall door, Mason held his tongue and ignored him. Long moments passed. Only the rhythmic sounds of the horse’s breaths and the wisp of the brush could be heard.

  “She’s breathtaking,” Grey said, breaking the silence between them.

  “That she is,” Mason agreed without missing a stroke of the mare’s illustrious, chestnut coat.

  Mason watched his brother out of the corner of his eye. After another silent moment, Grey coughed to clear his throat. “I wasn’t talking about the horse.”

  Mason moved the brush from the horse’s neck and ran it along the length of her side. “I know,” was all he said, again without looking up at Grey.

  “I’ve been a prick,” Grey added after another awkward moment of silence.

  Mason paused, considering his reply before he moved to the horse’s hindquarters. “I know that too,” he firmly replied.

  Grey shook his head and leaned back to look down at his boots. He swiped at the hay poking out from under the stall door with the toe of his boot, wondering what in the hell he was doing out there. “Is there anything you don’t know, smart ass?”

  Mason ignored his brother’s taunt and walked around to the far side of the stall where he began the grooming routine on Darza’s other side. He wasn’t going to be lured into a fight with Grey, but he wasn’t going to let him get by with an easy out.

  “Yeah,” he said and rested his arms across Darza’s rump. He looked at Grey. “I don’t know why you're being a world class prick. Care to enlighten me, or do you plan on taking your show on the road?”

  “You threatening to kick me out?” Grey didn’t take to threats too well. It chafed his ass to have to take one from his little brother. It made his gut churn to think he’d pushed this thing so far that his brothers were actually considering it. They would hate him if they knew the truth.

  “Nope.” Mason leaned into the mare and began stroking her coat again. “Just figured you were so damn unhappy here, you’d be leaving. I’d like the chance to prepare our boys, is all. Before we come home and find a note that you’d up and left us.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I’d never leave them,” he choked out. “I could never live without our sons, without our family or the ranch. You know that! How could you even think I could walk away from them?”

  “You haven’t been here for months, Grey. I figured all that was left was the packing.” Mason walked over and tossed the comb into the tack box. He pushed past Grey and headed toward the stack of fresh hay on the far side of the barn.

  “I’ve been here every goddamn day!” Grey pushed the statement through his clenched teeth.

  After pulling off a fresh slice of hay from an open bale, Mason turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. The look on Grey’s face was staggering, all the pain and the guilt. Guilt over what?

  “What the fuck happened, Grey?” Mason dropped the hay to the floor and stomped toward his brother, shoving him up against the stall. Darza gave them a startled snort when Grey crashed against the latched door. “What could you have possibly done that has you so eaten up inside you can’t even stand the sight of your own sons?” He pushed Grey again when he didn’t answer. “Answer me!!”

  “That’s not true!” Grey bit out and pushed away from the stall. “I love those boys! I’d never hurt them like that!”

  “Then start acting like it, you stupid fuck! We only get one shot at this and I’ll be dammed if I’m going to let you screw it up!” Mason hadn’t wanted to say so much, but now that he’d opened his mouth, it was like trying to stop a stampede with a traffic whistle. “You think they can’t see what’s going on with you? That they can’t feel it? You’ve got your head so far up your own ass they can’t help but taste the shit you’re spewing all over them every time you open your mouth.”

  Mason paced in front of Grey. He’d never been so worked up. Grey flinched when Mason stopped a breath away from him and glared at him, anger seething from every pore. “Answer my question!” Mason demanded, standing toe to toe with him.

  “What question?”

  “What—the—fuck—have—you—done?” Mason inched closer, waiting for Grey to either take the first swing or answer his question. When Grey didn’t speak, Mason fisted his hands into his shirt collar and pinned him against the stall. “What are you so guilty of that has you scared shitless?”

  Before Grey could answer, Matt slammed open the barn door and threw off his Stetson. Mason released Grey and pushed him away. Without a word, Matt stormed down the aisle between the stalls and punched Grey in the face with enough force that Grey’s feet left the ground before he landed flat on his back two stalls down.

  “If I ever see that look on either of my sons’ faces again, I’ll kick you off this ranch myself. I don’t care if you are my fucking brother.” Matt leaned over Grey and pulled him to his feet.

  Cupping his jaw, Grey staggered out of Matt’s grip. “Goddammit! I think you broke my jaw!”

  Matt stepped toward Grey, his fist pulled back to punch him again, but Grey held out his hand. “You’re right,” Grey groaned through the pain. “I deserved that, but it’s the last free one you’ll get. Understand?” Grey ducked when Matt threw another punch at his head.

  Grey tackled Matt around the waist, shouldering him to the ground. Matt kicked and tried to roll away, but Grey was on top of him before he could move, socking him in the eye with a powerful right hook of his own. As he pulled back to land another, Mason pulled him off Matt and dragged him backwards toward the door.

  “That’s enough,” Mason growled when Grey threw him off.

  “Enough my ass.” He lunged at Matt again, who was scraping himself off the dirt floor. Turning on his heel, Matt twisted out of Grey’s path and swung his elbow back, but instead of hitting Grey, he nailed Mason square in the nose.

  Mason stumbled back, clutching his face. When he looked down and saw the blood running through his fingers he’d had just about all he was going to take. He thought about walking over and grabbing the water hose, cooling them off like their mom used to do, but where was the fun in that?

  “What the hell.” Mason tossed his own Stetson onto the nearby bale of hay and jumped into the fray.

  Mason didn’t know how long they spent tearing the hell out of the barn or beating the shit out of each other, but when it was over, he found himself slouched on the ground, leaning against a bale of hay between his brothers.

  Each of them sporting various cuts and bruises, and fighting for their next breath, no one spoke for several long minutes. Finally, Matt pushed himself up to a sitting position and used the hem of his tee-shirt to wipe the blood from his left eye. “Fuck, I think that one’s gonna need stitches.”

  Mason leaned forward and took a look at the cut above Matt’s eyebrow. “Na, you’re just a big pussy.”

  Grey chuckled and cupped the side of his face, trying to wiggle his lower jaw. “I think I’ll get by with not having my jaw wired shut, but it hurts like a son of a bitch. We’re getting too old for this shit.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Mason huffed, flexing his right hand. His kn
uckles were raw and bleeding and he thought he might have sprained his wrist, but he’d never admit it to them.

  “Too bad they won’t wire your jaw shut permanently,” Matt said as he ripped his shirt over his head and held it to his brow to stem the flow of blood. “Maybe it would keep you from spewin’ off at the mouth so much.”

  Grey huffed and the small grin he managed turned into a wince when it pulled at the cut on his lower lip. “Probably a good idea. I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before.”

  “I could hit you again and see if we can’t make that happen.” Mason knew that Matt was only half joking.

  When Grey didn’t respond, they waited him out. The silence stretched out for so long, Mason was about to give up when Grey finally spoke.

  “I can’t remember her eyes.” Grey’s tortured sigh betrayed his weak attempt to hold back the words.

  Matt lowered the blood-stained shirt from his face and turned to look at Grey, the cut on his brow stinging like hell from the sweat that ran from his forehead. “Is that what all this is about? You can’t remember Sarah’s eyes?” He choked out an incredulous huff and shook his head. “Fuck, Grey. We have a million pictures in that house to remind us of what she looked like. I have a dozen of em’ in my room.”

  Mason stared blankly at the stall door across from him, his arms resting over his bent knees. “At least you don’t have to watch our wedding DVD to remember what her laugh sounded like.”

  For a moment the pain in Grey’s jaw subsided as a small wave of shock poured over him. “You lost her laugh?” He couldn’t imagine he’d ever forget the way Sarah’s laugh would wrap around him like a warm blanket in the winter. He’d also never imagined that his brothers had lost pieces of her, too.

  Mason nodded. “About three years ago, I guess.”

  “At least now I know where the DVD went.” Matt stretched out his legs and propped his elbows up on the bale of hay behind him, wincing when a stab of pain shot through his shoulder. He jerked his arm back and cupped the tender muscle. “Gaw-dammit! When did you two learn how to wrestle like that?”

  Mason chuckled and wiped his bloody hand on his jeans, then dared to touch the swollen lump on his face that used to be his nose. “About the same time as you learned how to punch my lights out. Fuck that hurts!”

  “Now who’s bein’ a pussy?” Matt tossed Mason’s words back at him.

  “Speaking of pussy.” Mason let his words trail off, not sure if he should have raised the subject of his time with Claira around Grey. They would have to talk about her sooner or later. Mason shrugged. Maybe it was time to test the waters.

  Before he said another word, Grey’s head fell back against the bale of hay. “I knew I smelled her when I walked in here.”

  Mason and Matt shared a shocked glance. “You fucker!” Matt growled. “You told me to go slow! How the hell is eatin’ her out on the first date goin’ slow?”

  Mason couldn’t help but laugh, a triumphant smirk on his face. “I didn’t dine, exactly. I just...tasted. And I’ve never tasted anything sweeter.” The mutinous look on Matt’s face said he was considering finishing the job he’d done on his nose.

  With his head still lolled back as he stared at the ceiling, Grey released an agonizing groan. “You two are killing me.”

  “Sorry, bro,” Matt said when Mason shot him a warning glance. Matt ignored him and gave Grey a nudge with his shoulder. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

  Grey lifted his head and released an irritated sigh. Feel it? Hell, he was eat, sleep and drinking it. Didn’t mean it was right, or that he deserved anything Claira had to offer. “Yeah, I feel it.”

  “Is that what’s got you all torn up? That you’re attracted to Claira?” Mason pushed. He knew Matt thought Grey had grieved Sarah, but now he wasn’t so sure. If Grey still hadn’t let her go, then their plans with Claira may be in trouble no matter how right they felt about her. They would push him, but in the end if Grey wasn’t ready, they couldn’t or wouldn’t move on without him.

  “It’s natural to forget some things, Grey,” Matt said. “We all have things we can’t remember about her, but she’d want us to be happy, man.”

  Grey sat up with a groan and pushed himself to his feet. “I’m hearing you. I really am.” He raked his hand through his hair as he bent and scooped up his hat. After slapping it on his leg a few times to knock off the dust, he flipped it onto his head. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”

  Matt shook his head and sprang to his feet, tossing his bloody shirt to the waste basket down the aisle. “You know you feel what we do. You’re not alone in this, Grey. I’m not sayin’ it’ll be easy. She’s got somethin’ she’s hidin’, somethin’ she’s scared of. Hell, we all have issues, but I’m tellin’ ya she’s worth it, bro. You gotta give her, and yourself, a chance.”

  Mason was in awe of his twin at that moment. He couldn’t have said it better himself, except for one thing. He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at Grey. “Just so you understand, Grey. We’re serious about her. We want you to want her, too, but not just to get your rocks off.”

  Grey had no problem with that. He’d been shooting pool with a rope for so long after Sarah’s death that when the urge did finally hit him, he’d made a damn fool out of himself with some cheeky waitress in Billings. Since then he’d stuck to impregnating the shower when the urge got to be unbearable, which wasn’t often, until now.

  The feelings he had for this woman he scarcely knew had him running in circles. He didn’t like it, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he was going to do about it. Lately he’d been nursing a case of blue balls from sun up to sun down, but he’d never use a woman like Claira just to drain the swamp. Grey pushed the thought away and offered a hand down to Mason, pulling him to his feet. “Duly noted, but I’m not making any promises,” he said.

  Mason retrieved his hat and slapped his brothers on the back as they headed for the door. “So, what kind of mess are we facing with the twins?”

  Matt shot Grey a mean look and Grey hung his head in apology. “For Con, nothing two puppies won’t fix, I hope, but I think I have a shit load of work cut out for me with Car.”

  “Two puppies?” Mason let out a low whistle as he flipped the barn light off then closed and latched the door. “That bad, huh?”

  Grey shrugged. “Considering I wasn’t aware we were even keeping one, I think it’s a damn good compromise.”

  “You’ll give em’ the whole damn litter if that’s what it takes,” Matt swore as he cleared the front steps in two strides.

  Grey shook his head and grabbed for the front door handle. “I think you’re right, but let’s not tell them that unless it’s our last option.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sweat beaded on Lucien Moretti’s skin and trickled along the deep, muscled V that ran along his spine. His blood burned through his veins at an exhilarating pace, his lungs pumping air through his flared nostrils as he tightened his grip on her hips and pounded her pussy.

  His need increased with each pulse of blood that ran through his cock. Her strangled cries of ecstasy drove him to a place hidden deep within. A place where he could smell her light, exotic scent and feel the silkiness of her rich mocha hair wrapped around his fist. He could hear her sultry voice, feel her breath on his skin as her angelic cries danced around him like a warm summer breeze.

  “Gabriella!” He shouted her name as the force of his climax pushed him into that euphoric world where only they existed. “Gabriella, mine. Always and only, mine,” he chanted as he spilled himself inside her, filling her over and over until he was fully spent.

  When he was but scarcely recovered, he pushed himself up to hover above her, unable to wait to see his love for her echoed in her own eyes. As his vision cleared and fantasy withered, what appeared before him was nothing but the tear-stained, haggard face of a common whore.

  “What the—.” Lucien recoiled from the offensive reality, growling a curse as he
wrapped his hands around the girl’s neck and wrenched her off his bed. He studied her face, his features twisting in revulsion as images of Gabriella’s flawless face merged with the inferior imitation that stood before him. “Putanna!” He shouted as he drew back his fist and struck her across her face, sending her crashing to the floor at his feet.

  She was a fucking whore! His Gabriella had betrayed him. After all the years he’d waited for her, all the things he’d given her, she’d betrayed him! She’d spit on his love for her and left him to...to what? She couldn’t possibly want a life without him. She was promised to him! She’s mine!

  When the whore tried to stand, he shackled her wrist and jerked her to her feet. Her pleas for mercy filled his ears, triggering his wicked grin and sending a familiar euphoric rush through his veins. She would beg him. Before he was through, Gabriella would beg. Like the common whore in his arms, she would plead for him to love her.

  “Shh, mi cielo.” He pulled the whore against him, cupping her face in his hands as he fluttered gentle kisses against her closed eyes, her forehead. After ten years she would finally be his.

  The whore’s sobs echoed against his bare chest. “Shh-shh. It will be ok, love.” Their noses touched and then he skimmed his lips against hers, her trembling breaths hot against his skin. His fingertips slid along the back of her scalp, anchoring in her long, ebony locks before he tugged her head back to look at her. The look of fear and confusion in her eyes fed his anger and desire. His pulse pounded in his temples and hummed through his veins. Although he’d just fucked her, his cock stiffened in anticipation, seconds before he snapped her neck.

  “Soon, mi cielo.” He lowered the whore’s lifeless body to the floor, reaching to his king size bed to retrieve the sweat-sodden sheet. “Sleep now.” The white Egyptian cotton billowed in the night air as it floated down like a spotless cloud to cover her broken body.

  Lucien walked to his bedroom door and flung it open. Ramos stood at his post across the expansive hallway and jumped to attention when he heard Lucien’s voice. “Take her away,” he ordered his guard and paced lazily to the cellaret near the window.