“I can whip up a sandwich until the meal is ready.”
He shook his head. "That won't do." He prowled toward me like a predator fresh on the tail of his prey. "Guess what I'm gonna eat up until dinner is done?" He licked his lips.
I squealed as he scooped me off the tiles and whisked me away to the living room. He wasted no time laying me on the couch and lifting my dress up around my hips.
Once his tongue found my clit and he began working his magic, I lost track of time.
I couldn't believe we were going to be a family. Things were getting better for us. We were fully acclimated to the new town. I was building my book of clients, and Ace was building a rapport with most of the townsfolk and others that lived out here in the mountains with us.
We had a beautiful new home. A joyful new puppy. A precious baby on the way.
It couldn’t get any better than this.
Message from Ambrielle Kirk
MESSAGE FROM AMBRIELLE KIRK
Thank you for reading Claimed by the Ex-Con. If you enjoyed the story, don't forget to leave a review and tell others what you loved about it. Even a couple sentences can say a lot.
Please continue reading for a preview of Kept by the Woodsman and a sneak peek of the next book.
Preview: Kept by the Woodsman
Story Summary
I warned her not to come back through my woods. She didn’t listen. She belongs to me now.
My name is Saul. Also known as The Silencer. I’ve beaten men bloody with my f*#king fists to make a living.
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That’s all behind me now. Or at least that’s what I thought.
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Who would’ve guessed that the woman who came to my mountains and disrupted my life would be my salvation?
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She says she wants my story but I’m going to give her so much more. I’m going to give her a night she’ll never forget.
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I never believed in fairy tales, and I damn sure have never let my guard down for anyone. But this curvy little vixen has tested my limits.
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My past was paved with my bare hands—my fists.
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My future is on this mountain—with her.
Chapter One
Tyra
I peered out the windshield and at a thicket of trees crowding the forest floor. Huge moss-covered boulders sat on a slope just beyond the trees. The horizon was blanketed by majestic mountains that scraped the sky. Gray, low-hanging mist covered the mountaintops. The clouds had been dense and dark for the past several hours, but the rain hadn't fallen just yet. The weather had been the same yesterday too. Cloudy all day and then light showers in the evening. I hoped the rainstorm held off until tonight when I was safely inside my hotel room. I was in a major time crunch and a little water wasn't going to stop me.
I plucked the plastic wrapper from my chocolate candy bar and bit off a big chunk. I was famished and had barely eaten this morning. Eager to get out to the mountainside to start my work, I had settled for one plain waffle and a couple cups of coffee. I needed to refuel and recharge, mentally and literally, but there wasn’t exactly a fast-food joint around here to roll through and grab a burger. In fact, I hadn’t seen a restaurant since I started my drive away from the main town and towards the mountains.
I had been driving all morning through Arrow Lake, Minnesota. My back ached and felt stiff from sitting in the same position for so long. I nibbled off another hefty bite of the candy bar, swallowing it after only one or two chews. I gulped down some soda to quench my thirst.
My windows were rolled down and a light breeze wafted inside the SUV. Despite the high humidity and threat of rain, the temperature was just right. Not too hot or cold. It was the perfect time to get out in the field to start on my assignment.
The physical map I’d just bought inside the convenience store, along with my snack and drink, was spread open on the passenger seat. Roadways and interstates were squiggled like tiny veins on the page, representing routes in a variety of different colors. I wrinkled my nose and furrowed my brow, leaning over the map to inspect it with more precision. Let’s face it. I had absolutely no clue what I was looking at. I might as well have been reading hieroglyphics.
I was the product of the digital age, and maps had become more or less obsolete to the culture and society we lived in, but not today. I would have to figure out how to read the contents displayed if I ever wanted to reach my destination.
My iPhone was cradled in the little space between the drink holders in the middle compartment. The wireless signal was a bit shoddy and the GPS had stopped working a while back. I plucked it up and clicked it on, hoping against the odds that somehow, I’d see at least one usable bar of reception.
I came up empty. I tossed the phone down and groaned. Cell phone service was always flaky in little backwoods towns like this, but on the plus side, most areas like these never lacked for having a charming appeal. I was used to city living, but by the time I left Arrow Lake, I'd have a glimpse of what it was like to live without the conveniences I was afforded on a daily basis. I had an endless supply of journals, and I had even rented state-of-the-art photography equipment to document every little detail on the topic of homestead and mountain living. I doubted that my story would bring in big bucks for the newspaper back home, but this trip wasn’t just about turning in an article.
I pulled the notes I’d previously jotted down for information and found the source of my confusion. I compared the notes to the maps, but they didn’t read the same. There were no roads on the map leading to the location I needed to get to, which I found both perplexing and annoying. There was a lot at stake here. I had to prove myself in this new venture, and I couldn’t allow some dusty roads, or lack thereof, to hinder my progression.
After climbing out of the SUV, I grabbed my purse and the map and walked back to the store. This time, my leg muscles didn't whine and protest in as much pronounced agony at being stretched and used after an insane amount of time driving through valleys, uphill slopes, and meandering roadways. I couldn't wait until I made it to my destination so I could roam about outside of the confines of a stuffy vehicle.
A tiny bell tinkled in a chime sound through the store upon my entry. The clerk behind the counter glanced up at me, alerted to my presence.
"Back so soon?" The white-haired woman behind the counter smiled at me with a pair of kind eyes.
“Yeah,” I chuckled and approached her. “I actually have a question, if you don’t mind?”
“Sure, shoot.” The lines around the clerk’s mouth wrinkled with curiosity.
I pointed behind me, back through the double doors leading out to the parking lot where my car sat unattended. “Those mountains,” I began vaguely. “I was looking at a map, but I don’t see any roads that lead to the top.”
“Right.” The clerk nodded and folded her frail, bony hands together on the counter. She smacked her lips. “The roads aren’t labeled, so you won’t find them on that map, sweetheart.”
“Really?” I asked with surprise. “Why wouldn’t they label the roads?”
“That’s just the way things are around here.” The woman adjusted her wire-rimmed glasses. “There are some dirt and gravel roads if you drive a little further up.”
“Hmm.” I drummed my fingers on the counter.
The woman pointed to a spot on the map. "You're right here if that helps any. You look like a tourist, but most of you people use one of the guides in the city. You're on the wrong side of the mountains if you're looking for hiking trails," she offered.
I shook my head. “No, I’m not a hiker. The clerk at the hotel told me that I needed to come out this way.”
“Where exactly are you going?” the woman asked.
“I’m doing research on some of the homestead communities,” I told her.
“Ah.” Her eyes brightened. “There’s a friendly group of them not too far from here. You aren�
�t the first one that’s come looking for them this year.”
“So, that’s good. I’m on the right path then.”
“Yes, but the terrains are rough and dangerous,” the woman warned. Her eyes flashed with something eerie that made me shiver.
"Are you suggesting that I not go?" I quizzed with another wary glance at the purple painted horizon.
The clerk shrugged. “You could use a tour guide.”
“But they don’t give tours of this side of the mountain,” I said.
“Probably because families live out there,” she said. “Would you want a bunch of strange tourists trampling through your home?”
I could tell that I had over-stayed my welcome in the store. “No,” I said. “That’s why I’m alone. I understand that they don’t tolerate crowds roaming around.”
“Well, you seem nice enough.” The woman glanced out the doors to the store. I followed the trail of her gaze as it wandered up to the mountain tops. “Just be careful and stay in your car until you reach the community. You never know what kind of wildlife you might encounter.”
“I will. I’m not trying to cause any trouble. I just need content for a news article on homestead living.”
“If you say so…”
I sighed. I was at an impasse with her. It was time to take matters into my own hands. “I’ll take this compass please.” I pulled it from the shelf and handed her a crisp ten-dollar bill.
The woman sighed with exasperation and punched the buttons on the register. “There you go, and good luck with your article.”
“Thanks.” I met her gaze and gave her a meager smile that wasn’t returned.
I walked back out the doors and enjoyed the gentle breeze that made my hair dance around my chin. I tugged my hair elastic off my wrist and pulled my hair back in a ponytail. I glanced at the mountains with determination. I inhaled a fresh batch of glorious air before climbing back into the SUV.
I had a lot riding on the success of this quest. If I had to trek the road in a hike, I probably had enough stamina to pull it off. It was time to grab life by the horns. I had work to do. Uncertainty had no place residing in the cobwebs of my mind. I was going to make it up the mountain, no matter what the cost.
Chapter Two
Tyra
The gravel crunched under my tires as I trekked up a winding hill, assessing my surroundings. I exhaled a sigh of relief when I glanced up to see that the sky had cleared up some and that the sun was peeking through the clouds. It appeared as though the rain gods were going to give me a break after all.
I rolled down the windows to catch a breath of fresh air. A pair of red robins danced past me, fluttering their beautiful wings through the air. I giggled and gazed straight ahead of me in wonderment. I understood the lure to want to live away from the city in the beautiful wilderness, but still, I wished that I had someone with me to share in the excitement.
The road was coming to a fork. I hit the brake and glanced down at my map one more time for reference. According to it, there was a homestead trading post about two miles west of here. But I’d get to the trading post later. I was headed straight toward the community where I knew I’d run into some residents.
I slowed up a bit as I came across a small cabin sitting out on an open lot. After driving the SUV up the gravel driveway, I looked for a mailbox with the house number on it, but I didn’t see one.
I looked down at my notes. “Jack Haversham. 1582 Rockbend Trail. Is this it or not?” I mumbled to myself. Whoever currently lived here had done a good job of hiding the street number. The mailbox was gone and there weren’t any numbers on the house.
Jack Haversham was a mountaineer who had published an article not too long ago on homestead living. Even now, he had a significant social media presence online and still commented in quite a few forums. My research told me that Mr. Haversham moved away over a year ago and sold the place, but I was still hoping that the current occupant could help me complete my assignment.
In fact, I wasn’t really looking for Jack Haversham at all. I was looking for the new owner of the house, Saul Krewe—a thirty-five-year-old former MMA fighter who had moved from a big city to Arrow Lake. According to county permits, Mr. Krewe was then hired to build a huge privacy fence around the lot of a multi-family homestead community. After completing the fence, he ended up living on the homestead himself and never returned to the city or his roots. That was the story I wanted. But if Saul Krewe wasn’t here anymore, my next course of action was to seek out the community itself.
I crawled along the gravel path, gripping the steering wheel. The car was basically coasting. I squealed as a brown baby rabbit darted past my car, narrowly escaping getting flattened like a pancake under my tire. I came to a complete stop, put the car in park, and shut off the engine as I curiously inspected the cabin.
The home looked hand-crafted. Based on the age listed in the county records, I expected a rundown shack, but the place looked newly renovated. Thick round logs made up the exterior and there were a couple of windows in the front that were shut tight with green curtains, concealing whatever contents lurked behind the glass.
A brick chimney partially escaped the steel colored tin roof. I imagined how quaint it would look up here, a cabin buried in snow with a tiny plume of smoke puffing into the air from above. The yard was well cared for, albeit the surrounding area was mainly wilderness.
All was quiet. I remained in the SUV for a bit, hoping someone would come out onto the porch. I blew the horn once and waited.
“Okay,” I breathed. “Here goes nothing.” I climbed out of driver side seat, gently pushing the door closed behind me.
My heart pounded with trepidation and my fingertips numbed with nervousness. I didn't know why I was so anxious. It probably had something to do with the fact that I didn't want to fail at this task. This was my first real assignment away from the city, and I couldn't fuck it up. If I wanted to pay bills and be able to buy groceries next month, I had to get this right. I had just paid off the last of my late father's medical bills and I had no plans to surround myself in debt once again.
I glanced around me. I appeared to be alone out here. I took the opportunity to take a couple of pictures of the road and the area itself, finishing the round of shots with a couple of the cabin’s front. I noted the fence around the back of the house which looked a lot like the fence in the picture I found online detailing Mr. Krewe’s work for the homestead community.
I adjusted my shirt awkwardly as I took a few guarded steps up to the wraparound porch. It had a single white rocking chair next to the mahogany door. There were some potted plants near the entrance. I climbed the steps leading to the porch. The wood whined and creaked against my weight, giving the cabin an overall antique vibe.
After hesitating for a moment or two, I rapped my knuckles against the door and paused on pins and needles. My ears stretched to hear any movement or activity from inside the house. Everything remained still and silent.
I tried to peer through the front window, but the drapes wouldn't yield to any visible view from inside the house. I decided to ring the doorbell. There was a very likely chance that if someone were inside in the back of the house, they wouldn't have heard my knocking or the sound of my horn blaring earlier.
I decided to give up after a minute or two passed. I heard thunder rumbling in the distance. Nobody was home. I would just have to try again tomorrow. I scribbled a note from my pad and stuck it between the door jamb.
Came by to talk with you about your fencing business and homestead living. I’d like to ask you a few questions for a news article. Compensation provided for your time. Please call me.
I wrote down my name and number and left, driving back down the mountain and back into town to my hotel.
The Next Arrow Lake Alpha
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About the Author
USA Today Bestselling Author Ambrielle Kirk pens tales of romance in various subgenres. Her favorites are contemporary, erotic, paranormal, and urban fantasy. As a child, she never really dreamed of being an author. It was a destined path that chose her. Now she writes with her readers in mind, but the characters, of course, dictate the outcome.
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Claimed by the Ex-Con: An Ex-Con Second Chance Contemporary Romance Novel Page 14
