Relentless (Fallon Sisters Trilogy: Book #1)

by P. J. O'Dwyer

  "Tucking the boys in." He scooped her up in his arms.

  "Oh." Her arms slid around his neck for support while his arms flexed with strength, holding her to him with little effort.

  "Now I intend to tuck their mother in." His eyes glittered with mischief, and he strolled to their bed that she had turned down, placing her in the center. He kissed her quick and hard and turned away.

  "Where are you going?"

  He opened the top drawer to the tall dresser and pulled out a file. "I haven't given you your wedding present yet, Mrs. Langston."

  She frowned. "But I haven't gotten you anything."

  "I think you have. The sign company called today." He laughed. It was deep and genuine, and it warmed her heart.

  "You weren't supposed to know about that. I wanted to surprise you."

  He snuggled down next to her and drew her close to him. He kissed her nose. "And you did, darlin'. But there's no other gift I'd want, except you and the boys. But I will need to eke out a living. I guess you figured me out."

  She smiled at that. He'd given her cause to question his motives that night in the barn. "I never did take you for a dairy farmer."

  "And you'd be right." He twined his fingers through her hand. "But I like the sound of it. It's enterprising, don't you think? 'Grace Equine Sanctuary and Cattle Ranch.'" He said it as if deciding how it fit together.

  "It's perfect."

  He handed the folder to her.

  She gave him a curious lift of her brow.

  "Open it."

  She sat up, his arm coming around her. She sifted through the papers. It was the deed to Grace—all of it. She looked up. "I don't understand."

  "It's yours, sweetheart. I paid it off and put it back in yours and your father's name." He settled against the pillows and brought her hand up and kissed her palm. "It was never my intention to take it from you."

  She cupped that stubborn chin of his, tantalizingly smooth. He'd surprised her by shaving for the ceremony. Handsome with or without whiskers, she loved him. "Why would you help me in the first place? You didn't even know me."

  "I think when I hopped the rail at the sale barn, I knew you were going to steal my heart."

  Her throat went dry, and tears pinched her eyes.

  His head dipped. "Bren, honey, you're not crying?"

  "I'm not." She sniffed. "You're a good man, Rafe Langston."

  "And, you, Mrs. Langston need to stop talking."

  He kissed her, his lips slow and deliberate, and she moaned with pleasure. Her hands let go of the folder, and she slipped them around his neck, her fingers inching toward the crisp, dark locks curling at the nape of his neck.

  Tom would always hold his place in her heart. He was her first love, the father of her children. But she was Rafe's now. Perhaps she had always been.

  Bren Langston.

  She liked the sound of it, although, she'd been tempted to ask Rafe to change his name. He was a Ryan, after all. But Langston suited him. It was a Texas name, and he was a Texan. The child born to a farmer in a small town back east, but raised out west by a rancher, had become and remained every bit the cowboy.

  She loved him completely, and it was almost more than she could bear. But she promised herself one thing.

  I will grow old with this one.

  An excerpt from P. J. O'Dwyer's next novel DEFIANT

  The second book in the Fallon Sisters Trilogy

  Available from Black Siren Books in September 2012

  Chapter One

  Three years later...

  Kate Reynolds kept her foot on the accelerator. A cold, uneasy feeling settled in. The heated seats of her BMW offered little in the way of warmth to alleviate the chill riding along her spine. Glancing down into the darkened interior of her car, she frowned at the green glow of the clock. Too early to call her sister Bren. She'd only worry, and fumbling for her cell phone would only slow her down. If she cleared this side of the Chesapeake Bay Bridge, he'd be less likely to catch up to her. She'd fill Bren in once she made it to the family farm.

  The island of Tilghman a memory, she concentrated on the double-yellow center line and putting miles behind her. The side street came up fast. She swiveled her head to check for oncoming traffic and caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. She groaned and grudgingly transferred her eyes back to the road. Unable to ignore the sensation, she ran her tongue along her swollen bottom lip; the bitter taste of blood filled her mouth.

  Damn him.

  The light changed from yellow to red when she approached the intersection of Routes 33 and 322. The brief stop allowed her another look at her face. She raised a finger toward the haze of purple, and then pressed the pad of her finger against her lid. The skin, plump like a marshmallow, made her grit her teeth. She grabbed for the steering wheel and held it tight. Eyes forward, she let off the brake, easing back up to forty.

  Her muscles bunched. The unexpected bright lights filled her rearview mirror, and she sucked air through her teeth. Kate reached to adjust her mirror and flew forward with the sudden impact. Her seat belt pressed against her chest and hips like a vise.

  Shit! He found me!

  She punched the accelerator and kept up the pressure. But the lights in her rearview mirror never wavered. The force of the second collision sent her vehicle into a spin. The car slid off the road and struck the guardrail.

  Everything stopped.

  Kate's forehead rested against the cushion of the airbag. The powder that had exploded upon impact filled the air, making everything seem muzzy, her head a boulder too heavy to move. A stab of pain radiated down her back when she tried to turn her neck. She reached for the door handle, but before she could grasp it, a rush of cold air hit her body. Strong fingers dug into her shoulders. She moaned, and her eyes fluttered open. The interior light, a halo of brightness, illuminated steel-blue eyes, glassed over and bloodshot, spearing into her.

  "Where the fuck were you going, Kate?"

  A blast of bourbon singed her face, and she recoiled into the opening of her sweatshirt—not good. Making her mind up tonight had weighed heavily. She and Jack had a love-hate relationship. But tonight, she hated him, and the decision was easy.

  Jack dragged her from the driver's seat, slammed the door, and sprawled her across the side of the car. Her breath caught, and her heart dove straight for her stomach.

  "Look at me." He grabbed her face. "You're the most ungrateful bitch. I've given you everything."

  The pressure of his fingers bit into her flesh, and she shook. The darkness frightened her, but his expression frightened her more. Kate pulled wildly at his hands. She brought her knee up in between his legs. He groaned. The pain along her jaw line disappeared. The quick release had her staggering, desperate to find her equilibrium. Her eyes shifted. Her trembling fingers reached for the car, only to find he'd locked it. Cursing under her breath, she ran up the embankment into the woods.

  Darkness enveloped her. She dodged tree stumps and vines, but kept moving. Branches slapped her face, and her lungs burned as she gulped for air. She stopped to catch her breath, placed her hands on her knees, and hung there a moment. Her eyes scanned the area—nothing.

  But her heart quickened. In the distance, leaves and underbrush crunched and snapped, so she ran even harder, her tennis shoes sinking into the soft earth until she came upon a ravine. She slid down a small slope, the ride like a pothole-laden street; her butt took most of the shock. A thin sapling whipped across her cheek. She placed her hands out front to shield her face and pushed away spindly, outstretched limbs until she hit bottom. She spied a tangle of underbrush several yards away and started toward it. Kate shoved her body deep into the entanglement of vines, ignoring their sharp points as she nestled down among the decaying leaves. Her breath mingled with the autumn air, causing bursts of white steam. Afraid he'd see it, she cupped her mouth with her hands and breathed into her palms, the warmth damp against her skin.

  The single beam of light shimmer
ed in the distance. It moved closer and then veered off in a different direction.

  "Kate, I know you're here," he called out.

  She squatted lower to the ground and pressed her head to her knees.

  "I'm not leaving until I find you."

  His voice grew closer; the white haze from his flashlight became brighter. She had to move. But her hands stung. Pushing through vines and thorns had her weighing her options. They weren't good. She yanked her sweatshirt sleeves over her hands, placed her arm in front of her face, and propelled forward.

  She ran from the light, refusing to glance backward, hoping she could outrun him. Those thoughts slipped away when the woodland floor crunched behind her. A blinding force collided with her back, sending her sprawling onto the unforgiving earth. Her eyes popped wide, her mouth agape with her desperate attempt to take a breath—no air. She struggled for oxygen while clawing, trying to wriggle free, but his strong hands rolled her on her back. He straddled her torso, clenched her arms above her head, and pinned them to the ground. The flashlight he kept raised, the bright glare glancing off her face.

  He leaned into her, his chest expanded with every breath. For a moment, he only stared at her, his dark brows furrowed together. "Don't look at me with those damn brown eyes."

  His hand flinched, and she jerked her head to the side, the sudden movement a reminder of earlier. "Relax. I'm not going to hurt you." Gentle outstretched fingers examined her eyelid, and he winced. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hit you. It won't happen again. I promise. But you make me so damn angry sometimes."

  Same old Jack—blameless.

  Rotting branches and twigs pressed into her back. She struggled against his weight and began to hyperventilate. He readjusted his weight, and his expression softened. He moved his hand toward her cheek and gently caressed her skin. "Kate," he whispered. "Stop fighting me. You're going to make this worse."

  "Let go of me." She tried to rise up against him, but her body only made an upper thrust before coming back to rest on the hard ground.

  "Not on your life, sweetheart."

  "You tried to kill me."

  "I tapped your car."

  "You sent me into a ravine."

  "You lost control."

  His steel-blue eyes hardened—her cue to tone it down. Or he'd make her regret her show of bravado.

  "You hit me, Jack." Her voice cracked. The tears burned the backs of her eyes. She had loved him once—forgave him when he hurt her feelings with his cutting words. But forgiveness she was all out of, even if this was the first time he'd actually struck her.

  But he'd caught her, and the only thing left was to play by his rules—for now. Because her husband, the U.S. District Attorney of Maryland, would be revealed for the abusive bastard he was in time. What she needed was a plan. She might not escape him tonight, but patience and placating Jack she'd mastered long ago.

  "Because you pushed me to the limit tonight, to the point I thought I'd explode." He took a deep breath and continued, "When I said I didn't want to talk about it, I meant it."

  "So to shut me up you took a swing at me. Twice."

  "You left me no choice."

  She refused to answer. Like this was somehow her fault.

  He eyed her suspiciously. "Why were you rifling through my desk?"

  Snooping. But she wouldn't admit to it. "I thought I left one of my case files in your office." His weight unbearable, she shifted. "You need to get up."

  He slid down onto her thighs. "The drawer was locked."

  "Okay, it was locked. I'm sorry." She needed to change the subject—namely, her. "Have you always known?"

  "If I did, how would that change anything?" he snapped and lowered his head so she could see him better, his eyes pinning her. "It doesn't concern you." He relaxed his hold on her wrists.

  Not directly, but anything he'd go to such lengths to hide from her had to be something she could use against him. Too bad for her she'd only had time to glance at the document, and what she could gather in that split second wouldn't raise suspicion or tarnish a reputation... unless there was more to it.

  "No... but I know how much the Reynolds name means to you. How long have you known you're—"

  The corners of his mouth tipped into a smile, and he chuckled. "I see." He tilted her chin up slightly. "Kate, how much did you read before I walked in?"

  "The header... your father's name." She took a huge breath through her nose. "You have to get up. You're squishing me. I'm going to freak out."

  He hoisted her up to a sitting position and leaned her back against the wide trunk of a nearby poplar. He squatted next to her, studying her briefly. "Where were you going, hmm?"

  The truth would only earn her his anger. He knew, and he was baiting her. "Away... away from you." Kate's hands sat restless in her lap, her fingers picking at her nails. She hated when she did that. He could read her every movement. She stopped, quelled her hands, and placed them on the ground on either side of her. "You get angry. You yell, throw things. I deal with it because I know the stress you're under."

  The corners of his mouth lessened.

  Pity was good—surprisingly easy to accomplish. But she'd take it and go for a few bonus points because she wanted him to know what he had done to her. How he had taken something so precious. Something she feared she'd never regain. "I'm a grown woman." She laughed, the sound mocking. "I sit next to and defend criminals every day. But I fear you more." She reached out tentatively and touched a lock of his dark hair that fell across his forehead, hoping to connect with him. "I want to love you—I do love you—I'm your wife." Her hand slid down against his face, his chest, and then the ground, resigned to rest against the cool, damp leaves.

  How had she allowed a man to control her? To her credit, outwardly she appeared functional. Her colleagues would never guess that the Kate Reynolds they knew and respected was a complete and utter mess who could not rid herself of one psychopathic husband. But why would they? No one else knew this Jack.

  He looked deep into her eyes. "Yes, you are."

  A knot formed in her throat, and she was unable to read him. He raised his hand to her face, and she remained stoic, refusing to flinch a second time. He touched her temple, his fingers gentle, and then slid his hand down her cheek, the palm of his hand resting against her beating pulse. Gliding fingers tightened slightly around the back of her neck, and his thumb pressed into the hollow of her throat. "No one leaves me, Kate." He paused. "Unless I say so."

  He said nothing for the longest time, but his thumb remained. She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing against his thumb.

  "Do you understand?" he asked.

  Completely. The only way to escape Jack was to bring him down. And abuse was a good start. Only if she went to the police, put a restraining order out on him, he'd find a way to make her regret adding a blemish to his fine reputation. Based on his reaction tonight after finding that she'd jimmied the lock on his desk, he was hiding something, and she would find it. Before long, he wouldn't be so hung up on divorce. He'd be too busy salvaging more than just his marriage.

  She nodded. He leaned in, his broad shoulders casting her in shadow against splinters of moonlight. He kissed her forehead, and she shivered.

  A Message from the Author

  Relentless, the first book in the Fallon Sisters Trilogy, tackles the controversial and often heated debate about horse slaughter. Writing a story that is relevant to our time is a precious opportunity.

  This story, Bren's story, although fiction, represents the struggles that horse rescues and animal activists face each day in advocating for the protection and humane treatment of horses and other equines that suffer from ignorance, neglect, and—most dreaded of all—kill buyers and the horse slaughter industry.

  It has become more than a story line for me. Having a love and respect for animals, I felt compelled to assist this noble cause.

  In an effort to support horse rescue organizations and their mission of rescue, rehabilitat
ion, and education, I am donating a portion of all Fallon Sister Trilogy book sales and all future literary works, purchased through www.pjodwyer.com or the publishing house of Black Siren Books www.blacksirenbooks.com, to horse rescue.

  As a consumer, you may choose the horse rescue where you want your donation to go. A list of participating horse rescue affiliates can be found in the Horse Rescue Affiliate Directory on the following pages or either website where Relentless is sold.

  The ability to assist with the protection and humane treatment of these graceful creatures is only available through the author and publishing house websites.

  If you are a horse rescue organization interested in becoming an affiliate with P. J. O'Dwyer and Black Siren Books, you can visit our websites to complete an online affiliate application.

  By working together to bring awareness to the plight of all equines, I truly believe we can make a difference, and, hopefully, end overbreeding, abuse, and neglect, and the most horrific means of dealing with these overwhelming problems—horse slaughter.

  P. J. O'Dwyer

  Horse Rescues And Advocate Directory

  UNITED STATES HORSE RESCUES

  ALABAMA

  Dusty Trails Horse Rescue

  P.O. Box 250191

  Montgomery, AL 36125-0191

  info@dthr.org

  www.dustytrailshorserescue.org

  ALASKA

  Alaska Equine Rescue

  P.O. Box 771174

  Eagle River, AK 99577

  aer@alaskaequinerescue.com

  www.alaskaequinerescue.com

  ARIZONA

  Dreamchaser Horse Rescue and Rehabilitation

  48019 North 7th Avenue

  New River, AZ 85087

  susan@dreamchaserhorserescue.org

  www.dreamchaserpmu.org

  Reigning Grace Ranch

  30514 North 162nd Street

  Scottsdale, AZ 85262