What she did pissed me off, sure. But now that I’ve had a day to let the anger fade, I know it didn’t piss me off so much that I want to throw everything away.
When I step outside the barn, the sun has just started to set behind the pines to the west. I see Cynthia’s car pulling up the dirt and gravel road to my ranch so fast she’s kicking up a plume of dust that must be visible for miles.
“What now?” I mutter.
She comes to a stop just as I’m reaching the front porch. I’m about to tell her she can fuck off just as fast as she came when I see the ugly bruises on her face. I may not like the woman, but seeing the bruises gets my attention, real fast.
“What happened?” I ask.
She steps out, keeping her distance and wringing her fingers together in an uncharacteristically meek way. Her eyeliner is stained and ruined from crying. “It was Ronnie. If he finds out I came here he’ll kill me. I know he will.”
“Ronnie? My brother, Ronnie?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes,” she says, breaking down into tears and falling to her knees. Her shoulders heave with every sob that comes. “I was dating him. Maybe I still am, I don’t even know. He’s the one who put me up to it. To trying to win you back, the matchmaker, all of it.”
My hands tighten into fists. “What?”
“He wanted me to marry you. He said the will your father left means you could’ve left the property to anyone you wanted. He’d get nothing if you died. But if you got married, it automatically went to your wife if anything happened.”
“What was he going to do? Fucking kill me if I married you?”
“Yes,” she says, bending lower as another round of sobs comes to her.
I take a step back, feeling light-headed as I fall to the porch. “He’d kill me for this?” I ask.
“Or worse. I think… I don’t know if he was serious, but he thought I was unconscious and he was talking to his guys. It sounded like they were thinking if they used Mila as leverage, you might just give him what he wanted.”
“He threatened Mila?”
Cynthia nods.
“Where is he now?”
“Aren’t you even pissed that he hit me? I mention that little tramp’s name and suddenly you care?”
“Jesus, Cynthia. Mila could be in danger right now and you’re worried about whether I care that he hit you? Of course I fucking care, but I’m worried about protecting Mila now. If I hadn’t been such an asshole she’d be here right now instead of on her own God knows where while my psychopath brother goes looking for her.”
“An asshole?” asks Cynthia, who is regaining some of her regular, bitchy composure. “Did you forget the part where she wired me up with microphones and was whispering things in my ear to say to you? That she agreed to set me up with you for money?”
“No, but if I’m going to be pissed at anyone for that it should be you. I was a stranger when she agreed to the job. At least she came clean. The only reason I found anything out from you was because I caught you. And you were going to try to fucking marry me so my brother could kill me off and take my property?”
“He wouldn’t have ever gone through with it,” says Cynthia quickly. She scrambles toward me on her knees to grip the bottom of my shirt like a beaten dog. “I only agreed to it because I always wanted to be with you. I still want to be with you, Lucas. You’re the only real man I’ve ever been with and I should have never left.”
I grimace down at her, feeling nothing but pity. No words that come to mind are productive, so I bite them all down. “Go see a doctor,” I say. “Make sure he didn’t break something. I have to go find Mila. Where does she live?”
Cynthia lets go of my shirt and sinks back to sit on her heels. “Why should I tell you where she lives? So you can go fuck her again? So you can come back here smelling like pussy?”
“Fuck it,” I growl. “I’ll find her myself.”
I hop in my truck with nothing but my wallet, my phone, and the clothes on my back, and I head for the city.
71
Mila
I idly tap through the new messages in my inbox, occasionally glancing out the window behind me at the dreary view from my office. It was only yesterday that Amy and I left Ward’s Creek, but everything that happened there is already taking on a sort of haze, like it was something out of a dream--and at times, a nightmare.
I woke with chills in the middle of the night because I thought I felt Lucas’ protective hand sliding around my waist, but it was just me, alone once again.
“Stop looking so gloomy,” groans Amy. “This is going to be torture if you just mope around for the rest of your life. I don’t want to be insensitive, but I mean c’mon. Why don’t we go get drinks or something?”
I give Amy a dry look. “It has barely been twenty-four hours. Isn’t there some kind of two day moping allowance or something? I thought I saw that in the girl code manual.”
Amy rolls her eyes. “I must’ve lost my copy, because as far as I’m concerned, there are thousands of perfectly good, waving dicks walking around right outside. As we speak,” she adds. “The best recipe for a breakup is always a rebound.”
“I don’t believe in rebounds,” I say, looking back to the computer and checking an email from a prospective client. Twenty-seven year old virgin female with anxiety disorder.
“I don’t believe in ghosts, but I still get the heebie jeebies every time I walk by a graveyard at night.”
“I really don’t see how that’s remotely the same thing.”
“Doesn’t matter. The point is we’re going to walk away from the computer, go downstairs, get a couple drinks in you, and find you the perfect dick.”
“I’ll take you up on the first three parts,” I say reluctantly, closing the laptop. “But I’m serious. No rebounds. The last thing I need to feel better is another guy. Besides,” I say a little bitterly. “Another guy would just remind me how perfect Lucas was compared to anyone else.”
“Oh barf,” Amy says. “Promise me you’re not going to get all sappy for him if I get you drunk.”
“No promises.”
We’ve only made it a few steps outside when a tingling at the back of my neck makes me turn to look down the sidewalk. Despite the crowded street full of men and women, I see him right away. I see the cowboy hat, the tall, broad frame, and most of all those piercing eyes looking straight into me.
“Lucas…” I breathe.
“Would you--” Amy starts, but she stops short when she turns to see what I see.
“Mila,” he says, rushing in to wrap his arms around me, not caring how we must look embracing in the middle of the street. “You’re safe.”
“Safe?” I ask, feeling like I’m swept up in a whirlwind of confusing emotions. “Shouldn’t I be?”
“You are now. I shouldn’t have let you leave, darlin’. I should’ve never let you leave.”
“Damn right,” says Amy, who I had forgotten was standing just a few inches away.
“Some privacy?” I say, shooting her a get lost glare.
She makes a lewd gesture at me--inserting her index finger over and over into a circle made by her other hand--then heads off in the direction of the bar a few blocks over.
I pull back enough to look up into his eyes. “I’m just having trouble making sense of all this.”
“I forgive you. You were trying to tell me that night, and it was my fault you didn’t. I can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been, and I only made it harder.”
“But I found out it was you at the festival. I still went home and followed through with Cynthia after I knew.”
To my surprise, Lucas shrugs. Even after what I did to him, he can just shrug and make it all seem inconsequential. But it’s not. Whether he forgives me or not, I didn’t make the right choice, and I’ll have to shoulder that guilt.
“Water under the bridge,” he says simply.
“I don’t feel like I deserve to be forgiven so easily. Like you should be mad
at the very least.”
“Well,” he says, letting the hint of a smile touch his lips. “I’m not mad, and I don’t think I could ever stay mad at you for long. You’re too damn sweet.”
I smile, biting my lip and feeling my cheeks flush. How is it that Lucas always manages to appear at the right time? I run my hands down his chest, feeling the soft fabric of his blue button-down shirt and the hard muscle beneath. “You’re really here, aren’t you?”
He chuckles. “Sure as hell hope so, cause that would’ve been a long-ass drive to not be here.”
“You said I’m safe… Just a minute ago. What did you mean?”
“Well there’s the bad news. You trust me, right?”
“Yes. For some reason, I do.”
“Then we need to get a place for a little while. We can grab a room at a hotel under fake names and we’ll lay low.”
I frown. “This isn’t making sense. What’s going on?”
Lucas sighs. “I’d rather not scare you with all the details, but keeping you in the dark is probably just going to freak you out even more, isn’t it?”
“Probably,” I agree, “because getting a hotel under fake names already has me imagining the worst.”
“It’s my brother. I think he’s planning to use you against me. I don’t know how, but I know he wants me to sign over the ranch to him, and he thinks if he uses you as leverage I’ll agree to it.”
“How does he even know about you and me?”
“Cynthia,” says Lucas simply.
I groan. “I didn’t think it was possible to dislike her any more than I already do.”
Lucas grins. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”
“Mr. Chris P. Bacon and Mrs. Dixie Normous…” says the poor woman behind the desk at the hotel. She pauses, clearly waiting for us to laugh and tell her they are fake names, but Lucas and I manage to hold our composure while she types our “names” into the computer and gives us our keys.
We both break out laughing once we’re in the elevator.
“I thought I had you,” Lucas says laughing so hard it’s easy to forget we’re only checking into this hotel because I might be in danger. “Dixie Normous? That’s too good.”
I shrug, biting back a smile. “Your fake name wasn’t bad. But you didn’t dream big enough.”
“Getting a big head, are we?” he asks. He’s holding his hat in his hand, but somehow his hair still manages to look perfect, with just the right amount of stray hairs dangling in front of his heavy eyes.
An irresistible urge almost overcomes me. I nearly grab his crotch and ask if I’m the only one getting a big head, but the looming danger stops me. Just barely.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, reading my expression. He rubs my cheek with the back of his hand. There’s a question in his eye--he’s looking to see if his touch is welcome.
I grip his wrist, pressing my face into his palm and closing my eyes. “Where have you been my whole life?” I ask.
He huffs a laugh. “Waiting for you, I think.”
The door to the elevator dings and I jump back from Lucas self-consciously. A woman and her daughter step in. The woman favors us with an uncomfortable smile before smashing the button for her floor a few times.
We reach our floor and Lucas makes us stop at the vending machine before we go inside. He plugs in a few bills and my eyebrows continue to rise as he punches in at least seven codes. The sound of candy and bags of junk food plopping to the bottom of the machine never seems to end. He scoops the loot into his arms and leads the way to our room.
“Hungry?” I ask with a grin.
“I skipped dinner and lunch to come get you. I could eat my way through this fucking door right about now.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of room service?” I pick up a bag of Cheetos from his arms and hold it in front of his face. “It has got to beat this junk.”
“I’ve heard of room service,” he says grumpily as I open the door to our room. “Never had the luxury of using it, of course, but I’ve seen it in movies.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “You’ve never had room service?”
“I’ve had food. And I’ve had waiters bring me food at restaurants. I don’t see the difference. They bring it to your room. So what?”
“So you get to eat it in a bathrobe if you want. In your room.”
“You had me at bathrobe.”
I giggle. “You don’t strike me as the bathrobe type, come to think of it.”
“I’m not. I mean you had me at you in a bathrobe. Go on. Make yourself comfortable,” he says, smirking and leaning against the wall with an expectant look on his face.
“Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks color. “I’m starting to think this whole thing with your brother was just a trick to get me alone in a hotel room.”
The amusement slips from his face. “No. My brother is really dumb and crazy enough to try something. The danger is real.”
I sink down on the edge of the bed. “I’ve never even met him. The idea that he’d hurt me seems so strange. I mean, what are we even going to do? We can’t just hide in this hotel forever.”
“I know. I just needed to get here to make sure you were safe as soon as I heard about his plan. I’ve hardly had time to think about it, but it seems like the only thing to do is give him what he wants. I can just sell the ranch and give him the money.”
I watch Lucas and the way his face contorts at even the thought of it. “You can’t do that. You already told me how much you love that ranch.”
“Maybe. But it’s not worth risking you. Nothing is,” he adds more quietly.
“Lucas… You barely know me. That ranch is the last part of your dad that you have. It means so much to you.”
“Barely know you?” he asks, moving to sit beside me on the bed. “Let me tell you something, darlin’. A real man doesn’t need to go on twenty dates to make up his mind about a woman. When you strip away everything--the clothes, the self-consciousness, pretense, all of it--when you take that away all you’re left with is what’s here.” He puts gentle fingertips just above my heart, sending chills across my skin.
“And goddamn if I didn’t like what I saw,” he says with fire in his eyes. “Hell, I didn’t just like it. I wanted it so bad it scared the hell out of me. I thought I must be losing my mind. So maybe when I found out you were hiding something from me it seemed like a good reason to take a step back. But…” he chuckles at himself, rubbing a thumb across his lip in a way that’s indescribably sexy. “Obviously I couldn’t stay away. Could I?”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I say, a little breathless from his confession. “I feel it too. What you said. It sounds so stupid to say it out loud, but I really feel like I know you, the real you. More than I should possibly have a right to think I do.”
“It’s not stupid. People make this whole romance thing more complicated than it has to be. When two people are right for eachother, it’s not a logical thing. You’re right for me, Mila. I felt it in my chest from the second I saw you, whether I wanted to admit it or not, like a fucking magnet pulling me closer and closer no matter how much I tried to fight it.”
“What are you saying?” I ask breathlessly.
“That I’m never going to make the mistake of letting you go again, not a chance in hell. You’re mine, darlin’, like it or not.”
“Like it,” I say, smiling and leaning my head into his chest. “I like it a lot.”
72
Lucas
It’s already been a week since I came to the city to protect Mila, but it’s been hard to focus on the possibility of danger. With every passing day, it feels easier to believe Cynthia was blowing things out of proportion, or even making them up completely. I called in a few favors the night I left and made sure a few good men are taking care of the ranch. I, unfortunately, had to explain exactly how Missy likes her special nightly treat prepared within earshot of Mila, and now she has made a habit of giving me a hard time for being such a softie with the
cows at least once a day.
I don’t even mind though. Danger or no danger, being here with Mila, even surrounded by the dirty air of the city and the ugly views of steel and concrete, has felt right. It has felt so fucking right I never want to let it go. I’ve been keeping her up late and making her sleep in even later because I can’t keep my fucking hands off her, but she hasn’t complained. I almost enjoy waking up next to her with the bright sunlight streaming through the window of our hotel room as much as I enjoy fucking her in the dark.
Almost.
I’ve been trying to make arrangements to sell the ranch, even if it turns my stomach to do it, but Mila has fought me tooth and nail. She insists we should wait to see if my brother is serious before we do anything permanent, that the ranch is too important. As much as I fight her on it, and want to do whatever I can to keep her safe, I can’t help falling more and more for her every time she stands her ground to protect what she knows is important to me.
She’s putting my happiness before her own safety, and if I wasn’t already dangerously tangled up with this city girl, she’s pushing me farther and farther over the edge with her selflessness.
We’ve mostly been living out of our room. Though I hate to admit it, Mila was right about room service. Having the food brought straight to our room and being able to just set the dishes outside the door is more fun than it sounds. But I’m itching for some fresh air--at least as fresh as it gets here, and the idea of getting out has become so irresistible I can’t stop myself from suggesting it.
“What do you say we go exploring?” I suggest.
“Exploring?” asks Mila, who still wears her bathrobe with nothing underneath. When she leans forward on the bed to rest on her elbows, I get a view of her tits that nearly forces me to set exploration aside for a few hours while I take my time with her, but right now, not even that can stop my restlessness. I need to get outside, even just for a little bit.
Savage: A Bad Boy Next Door Romance Page 41
