His Weekend Wife (The KNIGHT Brothers Book 2)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Phillipe now had the gun in his hand, aimed at Declan’s chest. “Let me see your hands,” Phillipe demanded.

  Declan did as was told, he dropped the bag at his feet and held up his hands, his jaw turning steely and his eyes dazzling with unspoken fury.

  “Looks like payday,” Phillipe grinned, dripping smugness.

  Declan kicked the bag at Phillipe’s feet. “It’s all there.”

  “You won’t be offended if I check, right?” Phillipe was already bending, unzipping the bag, and dipping his hands inside.

  “I wouldn’t expect anything else from a criminal. By the way, Rudy Pryor, I know all about you. Do you think it’s possible to get away from the thugs that are looking for you?”

  Phillipe stopped fumbling through the stacks of cash. Ash couldn’t see his face but his back straightened and his fists tightened. “This will certainly give me a chance that I didn’t have before.” He lifted a stack of cash and sniffed it. “Mm…the scent of freedom.”

  Ash swallowed hard as she worked the covering to her eyes until she could see out of both eyes. Watching this was painful.

  *****

  Declan had to ease the tension in his muscles. Stay calm, bro. He needed a clear, stable mind to help Ash and her sister to safety. He’d almost lost it when he walked up and saw her kneeling in the dirt, her eyes covered and her hands behind her back. The first thing he wanted to do was jump across the space between him and the bastard, Phillipe, and rip his head off his shoulders. But, logic warned him that the gun would go off before he could wrap his fingers around Phillipe’s scrawny neck and then his wife would be in far worse danger.

  Declan could feel the steel of his own gun pressing against his back where he’d hidden it at his waist. Phillipe had made the mistake of not frisking him, and for believing that Declan would be crazy enough to show up without a weapon. Although the money was the man’s focus, at the moment as he teetered the gun with a shaky hand, Declan didn’t trust where his head was or what his next move would be. The small plastic bag with white residue laying at Phillipe’s feet warned Declan that he wasn’t dealing with a lucid man.

  Phillipe stood and brought the strap of the bag up over his shoulder.

  “You’ve counted the money, now let the women go,” Declan insisted, lowering his hands closer to his waist.

  “Not so fast.” Phillipe stomped across the gravel, grabbed Ash’s arm and dragged her up to standing. The knees of her jeans were dirty and bloody. Her hair was disheveled. Her lips were turned into a grim line.

  Declan took a step forward, but Phillipe brought the gun to Ash’s temple, his sneer growing. “Don’t be a hero.

  “What do you mean? I’ve given you what you asked for, now you do the same in return.”

  “Abby can stay, but your wife, I plan to keep her as security,” Phillipe said through clenched teeth.

  “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

  “And neither was the gun you’re hiding.”

  “Here…I’ll take care of that.” Declan slowly reached around, took the gun from his waist and laid it at his feet, giving it a slight kick with the toe of his shoe. “Now, I’m unarmed. You can let her go and no one gets hurt. You know that’s what you want. You only want the money, not blood-stained hands.”

  Phillipe lowered the gun only slightly, as if he was absorbing Declan’s words. With a nonchalant shrug, Phillipe gave Ash a shove and Declan caught her against his chest. “You okay, sweetheart?”

  “Yes—Yes I am,” she whispered.

  Phillipe held both at gunpoint as he took a step backward, arrogance crossed his thin features as he was already spending the cash in his mind. His eyes were wildly lit. “Sayonara, Mr. Bankman. Cha-ching!” He took three steps back, lowered the gun to his waist and swiveled only to meet the barrel of a pistol aimed between his eyes. Holding the gun was Declan’s brother, Quentin Knight.

  “Hold it there, my friend,” Quentin said in a firm voice.

  “You called Quentin…?” Ash looked up at Declan.

  He wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek. “I called him. I couldn’t come alone. I couldn’t trust Phillipe. A man like him won’t stop.”

  “I was scared for your safety. All our safety. I knew you’d come and get me.”

  “I will always be here for you. Always. I love you.”

  Her eyes misted. “I love you too.”

  “Please tell me you will never leave me again.”

  “Never.”

  “Excuse me, darling. Let me take care of this scum.” He kissed her forehead and went to where his gun was on the ground and picked it up, aiming it at a scowling Phillipe who wasn’t moving a muscle.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Phillipe got enough time in prison that we won’t have to worry about him for a while.” Declan placed the newspaper down on the table.

  Ash looked at her husband, smoothing out the wrinkles in her yellow sundress. “We’ll be meeting him soon. Do I look okay?”

  Declan smiled, stood and strolled toward her. “You look amazing.” He kissed her quickly on the lips, pulling back slightly. “Are you ready to meet your father after so many years?”

  She nodded. “I am. I just wish Abby could be here too.”

  “Sweetheart, Abby is exactly where she needs to be right now. She’ll be out of rehab at the end of the year.”

  “I know. I’m glad she agreed to take this step in recovery. And I want to thank you again for making this possible, all of this. Saving Abby and me. Helping her get into recovery. Finding my dad, but mostly loving me. I couldn’t possibly put my happiness into words.”

  “I should be thanking you. You gave me a second chance.” He lifted her hand and kissed each of her knuckles.

  “Did your investigator tell you anything about my father? Where he has been all these years.”

  “I’m sorry, love. He only said your father dropped off the radar for quite a few years. He’d believed it was a cold case until he came upon a fairly recent police report.”

  “My dad helped stop a mugger from stealing a woman’s purse.” She smiled.

  “And that’s all we know.”

  “I’m glad my mother finally told me everything she knew about him, what she’d done in their marriage. I can’t believe she’d cheated.”

  “I’m sure she regrets it.”

  She shrugged. “I had a memory of my father squeezing my mom, hurting her, but she told me he was never physical with her. They argued a lot, said awful things to each other, but never abusive physically. He had only been desperate to hug her.”

  “I think you and your father will have a lot to discuss.”

  “Are you ready to go? If we leave now we can get to the coffee shop a few minutes early to get settled in. I can’t wait another minute longer.”

  “Let’s go, sweetheart.”

  The coffee shop was only a few doors down from the building so they decided to walk, holding hands and enjoying being together.

  Ash and Declan chose a table next to the window overlooking the street. Their coffee was just delivered when Ash spotted a familiar face in the small crowd on the street. “Hey, I know him.”

  “The man sitting on the bench?” Declan craned his neck.

  “No, the man standing on the sidewalk staring.”

  “The homeless man?”

  “He used to visit the diner.” She grabbed her purse and slipped from the chair with Declan following. Outside, she waited for a break in the traffic and jogged across the street to where the man was standing. “I thought that was you. How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. You’re a bit far from your usual stomping ground,” she said as she approached him.

  He twisted the dirty hat he was holding. “I would have come in, but, well, you know…” He patted his wrinkled and holy jacket.

  “You were coming into the coffee shop?”

  “Is it okay to talk out here?” he asked.

  She blinked. “I’m confused. How did you know
I’d be here?” She looked from Declan back to the man and the truth struck her like a truck. “Oh….ohhhh.” She brought her hand to her mouth then dropped it. “You’re him? My father? Wait…how?”

  One corner of his mouth lifted. “I know I’m not who you were expecting.”

  “No.” Realizing what he’d meant, she shook her head. “I only mean…why? I-I’ve brought you coffee and food.”

  He nodded and pushed his hat into his back pocket. “You’re wondering why I didn’t say anything, right?”

  “It would have been the appropriate thing to do.”

  “I’d love to sit down and talk. I’ll explain everything.” He stepped forward. “You her fellow?”

  Declan held out his hand. “I’m her husband. Declan.”

  “I’m Danny.” He coyly shook Declan’s hand. “Glad to finally meet you. Always wanted her to have a Prince Charming.” He turned back to Ash. “He must be deserving because you’re glowing.”

  “He’s the best.” She gave her husband a smile. “He’s a forever kind of man.”

  “I’m glad to know,” her father said.

  “How about that talk now?”

  “No time like the present.

  Ash took Declan’s hand and they walked along the sidewalk with Danny. “Now where do I start?”

  “From the beginning,” Ash said.

  “My dear, then I should start by apologizing. I don’t expect you to accept it, at least not this soon, but I made many mistakes. Living on the streets has been my self-induced punishment.”

  Brooke met Declan’s gaze and there was an unspoken exchange of agreement. “In time I will forgive you, but one thing is for sure, you will come home with Declan and I.”

  He gave his head a quick shake. “No, I couldn’t—”

  “If you wish to make amends then you will agree. I could never forgive myself if I’m sleeping in a warm bed and you’re out here.” She swept her hand through the air. “This is a new beginning for us—for all of us. There are so many questions, but we shall take things slow. I look forward to getting to know you.”

  “Thank you,” he said, tears misting his eyes.

  “We live close. How about we go home? All of us?” Brooke turned to Declan and she mouthed, “Thank you.”

  He smiled and kissed her cheek.

  Her family was coming full circle. As she turned the sun glinted off the portico of a shop. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes, catching a glimpse of a beautiful woman dressed in all white with luscious long hair and pale eyes standing in the window. Angelina? It couldn’t be. Her breath caught in her lungs and she reached for Declan’s arm, squeezing lightly. “Look.” She pointed.

  “What is it, sweetheart?” He stepped up beside her.

  Brooke blinked and the woman had disappeared, but the tingles in her spine remained. “Uh…I thought I saw…”

  “Who?” he asked.

  Danny joined them. He was also looking at the shop, curious.

  She skimmed her gaze frantically over the entrance, and finally up to the large swinging sign above the door. The name of the shop was, ‘Second Chances’. She smiled and a feeling of tranquility passed through her. “Nothing. I must have been imagining things.”

  And yet, she knew she’d been gifted with a sign.

  Together, the three of them headed into forever.

  From the author:

  Thank you for reading. Please leave a review and let others know your thoughts.

  Hugs,

  Rhonda Lee Carver

  At an early age, Rhonda fell in love with romance novels, knowing one day she’d write her own love story. Life took a short detour, but when the story ideas were no longer contained, she decided to dive in and write. Her first plot was on a dirty napkin she found buried in her car. Eventually, she ran out of napkins. With baby on one hip and laptop on the other, she made a dream into reality—one word at a time.

  Her specialty is men who love to get their hands dirty and women who are smart, strong and flawed. She loves writing about the everyday hero.

  When Rhonda isn’t crafting sizzling manuscripts, you will find her busy editing novels, blogging, juggling kids and animals (too many to name), dreaming of a beach house and keeping romance alive. Oh, and drinking lots of coffee to keep up with her hero and heroine.

  For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit: www.rhondaleecarver.com.

  Find me on Facebook, too! www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver

  Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver

  Diamond in a Rose

  Double Dare

  Delaney’s Sunrise

  Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1, Second Chance Series)

  Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)

  Second Round Cowboy (Book 3, Second Chance Series)

  Second Dance Cowboy (Book 4, Second Chance Series)

  Second Song Cowboy (Book 5, Second Chance Series)

  Second Burn Cowboy (Book 6, Second Chance Series)

  Second Hope Cowboy (Book 7, Second Chance Series)

  Second Sunrise Cowboy (Book 8, Second Chance Cowboy Series)

  Castle’s Fortress

  Dreaming Ivy

  Friends With Benefits

  Sin With Cuffs

  With Honor

  Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)

  Wicked Lust (Book 2, Wicked Wolves Series)

  Fighting Flames

  UNDER PRESSURE (Book 1, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

  PRESSURE RISING (Book 2, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

  PRESSURE POINT (Book 3, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

  SECRET PRESSURE (Book 4, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

  RESISTING PRESSURE (Book 5, Rhinestone Cowgirls)

  Under the Mistletoe

  Cowboy Paradise (Cowboys of Nirvana)

  Ropin’ Trouble (Book 2, Cowboys of Nirvana)

  Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Book 3, Cowboys of Nirvana)

  Kissed, Spurred, & Valentined (Book 4, Cowboys of Nirvana)

  Cowboy is Mine (Book 5, Cowboys of Nirvana)

  The Discreet Cowboy (Book 6, Cowboys of Nirvana)

  Leather for Two, Wings of Steel MC

  An Unexpected Hero (Buttermilk Valley)

  A New Year’s Cowboy

  Pride & Pleasure (Book 1, The KNIGHT Brothers)

  Roman’s Choice (Book 1, Saddles & Second Chances)

  Letting Go (Sable Hunter’s Hell Yeah! Kindle World)

  Have you read Letting Go? Here’s the first chapter as a gift. Please grab your copy and find out how hard letting go can be…

  CHAPTER ONE

  Brooke Winslow heard a child’s laughter and looked across the lobby, spotting the little girl cheerfully playing with a set of building blocks. Her blonde hair hung in one long braid down her back and she wore a pretty yellow dress. She had beautiful bright green eyes. “Look, Mommy. I built a tower.”

  Her mother glanced up from the magazine she was flipping through. “Oh sweetheart, what a stable tower it is too.”

  Feeling a sudden twinge in her chest, Brooke turned away, barely able to catch her breath. Why was she doing this? She stood up, gained her equilibrium, then started for the glass doors that would take her back out to her car—away from the possibility of having a panic attack in front of the people waiting in the lobby. She’d gotten better at staying in control, but on occasion she found herself coming unglued from the demons that still haunted her.

  She gripped the cold handle of the door just as she heard her name being called, “Ms. Winslow. The doctor will see you now.”

  Her mind raced. Her heart skipped a beat. She could easily scurry out and skip the appointment. Being here didn’t help anyway. She hated opening up and talking about the tragedy that turned her world upside down. Why couldn’t people just understand that not everyone needed to talk about their feelings?

  Fingers touched her shoulder and she spun around, coming face to face with the receptionist. “Ms. Winslow, Dr. Forester will see you now.”

  Se
veral people had turned to watch her. She wondered if they too wanted to break free?

  “Ms. Winslow?”

  Oh, phooey. Brooke had no other choice but to let go of the handle to freedom and follow the receptionist. Part way down the hall Brooke heard sniffling coming from a room to the right. She caught a glimpse of a woman with her head bowed and her shoulders shaking. Brooke’s breath hitched and she clenched her hands into fists. Crying happened a lot here. But not for her—not anymore. After three years, the tears had dried up. Too bad the memories were as fresh as newly picked blueberries.

  “How are you today, Ms. Winslow?” the receptionist asked as she motioned for them to continue on their way.

  The question came more as a distraction than civil conversation. “Peachy.”

  If the other woman picked up on any sarcasm in the answer, she didn’t let on.

  They stopped at the last doorway, Dr. Forester’s office—a forty-something, attractive blonde who always dressed in impeccable pant suits. She had also recently divorced her husband of ten years. They had no children and a mansion with lots of bedrooms and a tennis court. Brooke only knew this because she’d overheard the receptionist and a nurse discussing the details when they thought they were alone. Usually Brooke passed on eavesdropping, but it did break up the monotony of sitting in the lobby and staring at a watercolor.

  On the threshold into the room, she hesitated. It wasn’t that she disliked Dr. Forester or her help, but what could be done? The past was over and the pain had embedded itself deep inside of Brooke’s bone marrow. Not even a therapist could rid her of the heartache, the memories, and the knowledge that she couldn’t save Jessie.

  Many times in the last year, Brooke had picked up the phone to cancel her appointments, but then she’d hang up. Dr. Forester had become a crutch for Brooke.

  “Brooke, come in.” Dr. Forester stood up from behind her desk and smoothed her black jacket. Brooke couldn’t remember ever seeing the elegant woman unruffled or wrinkled. Her clothes were pressed and spotless. Her makeup had been applied with a detailed hand, hiding any physical flaws that she might have. She had to have at least one, but up until now, Brooke hadn’t found it. Even the desk was tidy and clean.