Knotted

by Pam Godwin

  “In another hour, we’ll be able to put this all behind us.” He searches my face and smooths wayward strands of auburn behind my ear. “Go home. We’ll meet you there.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but his fingers snake into my hair and capture a fistful.

  “Obey me.” His firm grasp punctuates his command.

  He and Jarret will drive Levi—alive and bound—to the ravine. It’s a risky transport, but a hidden video camera in the corner of the room recorded them acting in self-defense. The footage won’t be needed unless they get pulled over.

  I lean into him and brush our lips together. “Come home to me.”

  “Always.”

  I take the motorcycle to the ranch, head to the stable, and tack up Ketchup for a ride to the ravine. It’s nearing dusk by the time I get her saddled and into the field.

  All the ranch hands have gone home for the day. The lowing of cattle drifts across the south pasture, the tall stalks of grass silent and still in the absence of wind.

  As I approach the ridge that leads to the ravine, my fingers turn cold around the reins, and an icy tingle sweeps through my chest. I meant what I said to Jarret. I’m prepared for this. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to watching a man die.

  Ketchup climbs the final hill, and I spot Jake’s pickup truck parked near the fire pit at the entrance of the ravine.

  I haven’t been here since that night, and the ridge looks so different. More open and bare. Like someone came through here with a bulldozer.

  Forty-some feet away, Jake and Jarret hold Levi on his knees at the edge of the bluff that overlooks the ravine. Six years ago, there were so many trees on that overhang we couldn’t stand there. When did it get cleared out?

  I tie Ketchup to one of the remaining trees, and my gaze lingers on the charred wood in the fire pit. I can still see Lorne sitting against that log and strumming his guitar. He was here that night to watch over me, to support my relationship with Jake.

  Tears blur my vision without warning, and I blink them away.

  If he can forgive me for ruining his life, I can forgive him for keeping me at a distance.

  I’m so damn ready for him to come home.

  Turning toward the bluff, I pick my way along the rocky terrain toward Jake and Jarret. As I breach the highest point, two dump trucks come into view behind them.

  “What are you…?” I glance over the edge of the cliff and gasp. “Holy shit.”

  The narrow gorge and trickling creek below are gone, replaced with a landfill of dirt and rock. That explains why the trees were cleared away.

  “We’re still filling it in.” Jake knots a noose of rope around Levi’s neck while Jarret holds the man still. “The dirt came from the drilling site.”

  There must be hundreds of truck loads in there. Mounds of dirt climb halfway up the steep ravine walls.

  A chilling thought pinches my gut. “The bodies are under all that?”

  Levi’s eyes bulge, and he thrashes and heaves against Jarret’s hold.

  “They went in first.” Jake loops more rope around Levi’s ankles and looks up at me. “Do you have any last words for this motherfucker?”

  “No.” Pins and needles creep up my legs and deaden my insides.

  Jake’s vigilant gaze stays on me as he kicks Levi onto his stomach and presses a boot against his back.

  The rope leads from Jake’s hand to Levi’s neck. The man’s wrists and feet are bound together behind him, his mouth sealed with duct tape and expression stark with dawning horror.

  I clutch the base of my throat, my mind swirling with images of his death. We never discussed the exact method. I expected it to be drawn out and gruesome, but maybe strangulation is better than a stab wound or gun shot. None of us are here to bathe in blood. We’re not killers. We just want it done, so we can have closure and move on.

  The knowledge alone that he’s about to die makes me want to puke.

  Jarret strides toward me and pulls me into a tight hug. “You don’t have to watch.”

  I wrap my arms around him and fix my gaze on Jake, trembling and nauseous.

  “You hurt my girl.” Jake pulls hard on the noose around Levi’s neck, his dark, rugged features cut with vengeance. “You stole something sacred from her. From me. And you thought you’d do it again?” He drives a brutal kick into Levi’s ribs. “We live and die by the choices we make. You made yours. I hope you relive that night from her perspective, over and over, while you burn in hell.”

  He pushes his boot down on Levi’s spine and holds the rope taut, straining the muscles in his forearms.

  I clap a hand over my mouth, fighting the bile in my throat as Levi bucks and jerks face down in the dirt, fighting for air.

  The strangulation goes on for eternity. Jake doesn’t move or speak, his hands clenched around the rope. With his head tilted down, the rim of the hat conceals his face.

  My fingers bite into Jarret’s back, my entire body locked in frozen panic. Why is it taking so long?

  Finally, the body slumps, breathless and unmoving. Jake checks his pulse and shoves him over the edge and into the ravine.

  “It’s over.” He comes to me, arms open, and pulls me from his brother.

  Jarret takes off toward the dump trucks to unload the dirt. To bury Levi Tibbs.

  Jake lifts me and carries me away from the bluff, nuzzling his whiskered face in my neck. I melt into him, clinging to his strong, dependable breaths.

  Neither of us have words. None are needed. Levi Tibbs stole six years from us. He’s not going to get another second.

  Ketchup offers a soft, little whinny as we approach. I wiggle out of Jake’s arms to kiss and rub her nose.

  “Aren’t you going to help him?” I nod at the dump truck as Jarret backs it toward the cliff.

  “Nah.” He grips my waist and hoists me into the saddle. “He’ll drop those two loads, and we’ll move the rest of the dirt in tomorrow.”

  Swinging up behind me, he tucks my rear against his groin and slides his arms around me to grasp the reins.

  A suffocating sensation closes in, but his embrace is stronger. He chases away my demons because he’s the biggest, baddest bully of them all.

  My protective bully places an unyielding hand under my chin and directs my head back against his shoulder.

  “Just breathe.” He touches his lips to the edge of my mouth. “I’m right here.”

  “I’m here for you, too, you know. We were both there that night. Please, lean on me. Whenever you need me.”

  “I’m leaning on you right now.” He brings me tighter against his chest and holds me close on the ride to the stable.

  He holds me as we shower. His hand never leaves my back as we warm up pasta leftovers.

  Jarret joins us on the back porch, and Jake holds me as we eat in silence.

  Dusk creeps across the pasture like it always does—sleepy and peaceful. But tonight, it feels more sullen, darker, and full of shadows.

  After dinner, Jarret collects our dishes and heads inside the house.

  I turn to Jake beside me. “The air feels heavy.”

  “Come here.” He reclines on the cushioned bench, legs spread and expression open.

  I crawl onto his lap and snuggle against the warm cotton of his shirt.

  “It’s okay to be sad.” His voice slips over me, just a soft breath of sound, but it feels like a velvet caress. “For as long as it takes, I’ll hold you through it.”

  “There’s nothing to be sad about.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  I love that he understands me so completely, like he’s inside my head feeling my thoughts before I can make sense of them.

  The past is behind us, but I still mourn it. I mourn my relationship with Dalton. I mourn Lorne’s absence. Most of all, I mourn the six years I lost with Jake. I resent it as strongly as I cherish every breath we share now. But that’s okay. It’s okay to cry and be angry. I’ll never bottle that shit up again.


  The moonlight casts a tranquil glow across the field, creating fathomless shadows between the ripples in the terrain. I can see our childhood in them—the joy, the serenity, and the indestructible love between the four of us.

  I let myself drift back to that innocent place. I let the tears fall when they fill my eyes. And l let Jake hold me until it passes.

  Thank God this day has come and gone. All the pain we suffered, all the hurt we survived, it’s over. Gone.

  I lift Lorne’s guitar from the chair beside us and strum a few notes, listening to Jake breathe and matching the soothing rhythm.

  My fingers move over the strings, searching for a song until I lock onto Breathe by Faith Hill.

  He strokes my hair while I play, watches my lips while I sing, and smiles when I smile.

  I wear the skin that feels his touch.

  I breathe the air that fills his lungs.

  I’m the girl he wants, the one he loves, and he’s mine.

  “It’s just us,” I whisper.

  He kisses my neck. “That’s all we need.”

  I tuck Conor into bed after she falls asleep in my arms on the back porch. Head on the pillow, she blinks up at me, all soft and sleepy-eyed, and I fall in love for the millionth time.

  “I’m going to check on Jarret.” I kiss the cushion of her lips.

  “’kay.” She turns on her side and closes her eyes. “Love you.”

  “You, too.”

  She’s so insanely beautiful I’m held captive in her presence, standing over her, drinking her in, and watching her sleep like an obsessed creeper.

  There’s no question I’m obsessed. Unapologetically so.

  I kiss her again and force my boots out of the room and through the house.

  Jarret’s not in his bedroom or office. Maybe he went out? He didn’t seem to be in the mood for a hook up. Something’s on his mind, and I’m too nosy to let it go.

  When I step onto the front porch, I spot an unfamiliar sedan parked next to his truck in the lot. Neither of us have ever brought a fling to the ranch. Our home is our sanctuary, and we trust no one outside of our childhood circle.

  I head around the side of the estate and scan the dark pasture.

  Across the field, the interior lights of the stable glow through the open doorway. He’s in there with whomever is visiting.

  Except we don’t get late-night visitors.

  This reeks of a certain meddlesome journalist. What the fuck is he doing with her?

  I take the short walk to find out.

  At the entrance of the stable, I push past the door and slam to a stop.

  Arms bound to a support post and legs kicking air, Maybe Quinn is trussed up with rope and seething past clenched teeth.

  I guess that’s one way to deal with the journalist.

  “You’re going to regret this, you sick, perverted, sick…sicko!” She thrashes against the restraints, causing her dirt-smudged dress to slip farther off her shoulder.

  She’s a filthy mess, hair hanging in her face and skirts ruched up in the rope.

  Jarret circles her, flicking a riding crop against her bare legs. Irritation lines his expression, but beneath that, he’s worked up in a way I don’t want to see my brother. Ever.

  I edge closer, pausing a few feet away, and they turn their heads in my direction.

  “Is this consensual?”

  I hate asking him that question. He would never force a woman. Though, there’s a gray area, a dubious zone that he and I love to play in.

  Jarret gives her another whack with the crop, and she growls at him.

  “I don’t know.” He steps into her space, grips the pole above her head, and puts his face in hers. “Is it consensual, Maybe? Do we have a deal?”

  The hungry look in his eyes tells me exactly what kind of deal he’s offering.

  “This is not what I had in mind.” Her chest heaves, cinching the rope he looped around her torso.

  “Yes or no.” He pinches her chin, making her breaths come harder. “My brother’s not going to leave until he knows you’re willing. Do you want the story or not?”

  I don’t know what bullshit story he promised her, because he sure as hell wouldn’t give her the story.

  She cuts her eyes at me. “You can go. I’ll deal with your brother.”

  I meet Jarret’s gaze. “You might want to bind her—”

  She kicks out and nails him directly in the groin.

  “—legs.”

  He bends over, cupping himself, and shoots me a glare. “I’ve got this.”

  “I see that.” I back away, grinning. “Good luck.”

  Maybe Quinn must be hard up for a job. I can only imagine what she’ll agree to do to get our story.

  My dirty imagination follows me back to the house, resulting in a sizable erection by the time I slide into bed with the hottest woman on the planet.

  I should let her sleep. That would be the selfless thing to do.

  I’m here for you, too, you know. Whenever you need me.

  She wasn’t thinking about sex when she offered those words. But I’m a guy, and my needs are simple.

  So I wake her with my mouth between her legs. Then I flip her over and ride her into the mattress until she needs me as much as I need her.

  After, when our needs are sated and my body twitches with fatigue and lingering bliss, I make myself move. I pull her into my arms, and the tattooed canvas of hers comes around me.

  Legs tangled.

  Breaths melded.

  Hearts knotted together.

  Mine.

  ONE MONTH LATER…

  Never in my life have I appreciated a sunset quite like this one.

  A smoldering collision of color dyes the line where heaven kisses the seam of the earth. The meadow blushes in shades of blue, tangerine, and red. Fire red. Like her hair.

  Conor kneels on a blanket a few feet away, her curvy silhouette cut out of the sky like a piece of the night. When she breathes or twitches, streaks of color shimmer across the backdrop and dance over her naked body.

  I stand in awe of her mesmerizing perseverance. It’s only been a month since she watched me strangle Levi Tibbs. She still has setbacks with her PTSD, but she doesn’t let it control her. She doesn’t let fear stop her forward progression.

  She tilts her face to the sky, eyes closed and hair falling in flames of red behind her. Sitting on her heels, she holds her thighs open, her wrists tethered with rope at her back and every inch of her gloriously nude.

  I’m going to annihilate her final trigger tonight.

  I search her expression and already know I won’t find vulnerability there. My girl is sunshine, rawhide, and pure fight. The bottle of lubricant on the blanket beside her doesn’t deter her. Whatever fear she still has about anal sex, she’ll face it with radiance and ferocity.

  Far to the south, the ravine is filled in, leveled, and sealed with a huge concrete slab. We used the money from Levi Tibbs’ duffel bag to pour the cement pad. It’ll be the foundation for the veterinary clinic I plan to build over the next two years.

  The ravine was an ideal place to discard the dirt from the nearby drilling site, and since there’s already a back-road entrance to the property there, it makes sense to build her clinic in that location. Anyone who might be suspicious of the newly poured concrete would consider these factors.

  When I told Conor about the investment decision, her soaring joy trumped any trepidation she had about erecting her business on top of a graveyard.

  There are still obstacles ahead—the manhunt for Levi Tibbs, the unpredictability of my missing father, and the unfinished business between my brother and Maybe Quinn. Whatever game Jarret is playing with the journalist is guaranteed to end badly, but he refuses to heed my advice to get rid of her.

  On the bright side, Conor completed all the steps for her proof of residency and filed the revocation of the Power of Attorney. In two years, she’ll be finished with school and Lorne will likel
y be released on parole. He and Conor own the land. Jarret and I own the cattle operation. We’re so close to getting our dreams back on track.

  Speaking of dreams, I let mine wait long enough.

  I approach her sleek, fluid silhouette and stare down at her sanguine lips. Her eyes open, soft and resounding in the fading light. Her mouth wears the hint of a smile, enough to suggest she’s enjoying her thoughts.

  I step between her spread knees and curl my fingers around her neck. Her throat bounces against my thumb, but she stays quiet, attentive, and lets the weight of her upper body sink in the collar of my hand.

  Her surrender’s as beautiful as the iridescence of color emblazoned on her body. Her muscle definition creates tight dips and winding trails along her outline. Flawless bone structure, skin like silk over porcelain, she glows with the kind of beauty that fucks with a man’s self-control.

  Every part of me hardens and heats. Pulses of hunger throb below my belt, tightening my fingers around her throat and flooding my cock with blood.

  Her gaze dips to my straining zipper, and she laughs at me. “Eager, are we?”

  “You have no idea.”

  She lifts her chin and touches her tongue to her lips. “I’m yours.”

  Our future manifests inside me, brought into existence by those two words. I want to see my ring on her finger, her belly swollen with my child, and her veterinary clinic thriving beneath her dedication on our prosperous ranch.

  I lower to my knees and roam my hands. Her body is my shrine, my place of worship, and I pay homage to every curve and crevice, kissing and licking, stroking and kneading.

  She begs for my cock until I give it to her. Then she begs for release until she comes undone in my arms.

  But I’m not finished with her, and her awareness of my plans flickers in her green-grass eyes.

  “I’ll go slow.” I untie her arms and position her on her knees with her gorgeous ass in the air.

  “That’s what you always say.” She laughs nervously.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes.” No hesitation.

  The fall of night robs us of the sunset colors and darkens the fields to obsidian. Bent over before me, she’s no more than a flowing black outline, sighing languidly and dripping with arousal.