Unleashed: Volume 4 (Unleashed #4)

by Callie Harper

  When I took the shuttle bus from the airport to The Stanyon, Declan’s hotel in Billings, I barely breathed the whole ride. My hellish trip home had taken so long, he might already have arrived via private jet. No luggage lines for him, no delays, just Declan in hot pursuit. I practically tiptoed to the valet kiosk out front to request my truck.

  I couldn’t have felt stranger standing in the lobby, liked I’d just dropped down from Mars. So much had happened since I’d met Declan at the restaurant there a little over a week ago. The mundane nature of the scene around me only made it feel more surreal. A lazy Sunday afternoon with a man checking in at the front desk and a couple of people reading or tapping into their phones on richly upholstered chairs in the lobby, no one paid me any mind. Nothing unusual here. It was as if I’d totally made up the past nine crazy days.

  I saw Declan around every corner, felt his breath at my neck from behind. But he didn’t appear. A valet brought Bessie around and I tipped him with the last few dollar bills I had in my wallet. I climbed in and drove off with fat, stupid tears welling up over how smoothly it had all gone. Instead of rational relief, I felt torn up and dumb all over again. Of course Declan hadn’t been standing there waiting for me, rending his hair and gnashing his teeth asking why, oh why had I left him? He was probably glad I’d gone. It saved him money and a bit of trouble, too, having to get it through my big, thick scull that he’d really meant it when he’d offered me a one-week bargain. One week meant one week.

  I guessed I should feel glad that at least I’d been spared that humiliation. Had I not seen him kissing another woman, I’d have spent the night with him, then turned to him the next morning full of expectation and hope. He would have sneered and rejected me and, who knew, that might have felt even worse than this? Hard to imagine that, though.

  The drive back to the ranch only made me feel more and more ridiculous. Passing acre after acre of land, wild grasses and cattle, dilapidated sheds and make-shift fences with barbed wire and weathered stakes, I saw a wasteland. How had I fooled myself into thinking Declan and I could live happily together in the same world? Once upon a time he’d been a lowly ranch hand, but since then he’d shot out into the stratosphere of wealth and power. I’d stayed behind in Montana where we ran neck and neck with Wyoming for least populated state in the continental US. Compared to a place like New York City, it looked like a bad joke.

  My hometown didn’t even have a population of 3,000. No, we tapped out at 2,700. The diner I worked at was a 35-minute drive away from my ranch. And that was our local diner. With new eyes, I laughed at myself, but not kindly. After the hustle and bustle of New York, the culture, sophistication, anything and everything you could ever dream of available 24/7, no wonder no one wanted to live out where I did. I’d been exiled in Siberia my whole life, grinning like an idiot about it because I didn’t know any better. I knew better now.

  That night, you’d still think I could have slept. All that emotional upheaval plus long hours of insane travel should have knocked me right out. Instead, I lay in my bed listening to the crickets chirping so loud it sounded like they were lying there in bed with me instead of outside in the middle of a hot June night. Even with the window open, no breeze fluttered my curtain. Just the clatter of the crickets. It felt like prison.

  I lay there wide awake, crushed, empty, quiet tears sliding down my cheeks. I hated feeling sorry for myself, hated feeling this pathetic, but boy did I wish I had someone’s shoulder to cry on. Here I was, back at my family’s ranch, only I didn’t have any family left. My grandparents had passed years ago, and now both my parents. The couple of more distant relatives I could dredge up for Christmas cards hadn’t exactly welcomed me with open arms once I’d explained the little problem of my bankruptcy.

  I was surrounded by neighbors, friendly though far-flung. Through the diner I knew a ton of regulars, locals, other waitresses. I’d lived in the same small town my whole life. But I didn’t know anyone I could call with this burden.

  Sometimes I missed my father so much. A lump formed in my throat. He’d always been my best friend. He’d been so reliable, such a rock, the classic no-nonsense, waste-no-words rancher. He’d looked after me and given me a sweet, sheltered life. And now I knew he’d chased Declan away six years ago. Funny, if I’d found that out last month I would have felt upset, as if he’d robbed me of something precious. Now I saw the wisdom in his actions. He’d known what he was doing all along.

  Now everything had bust open like a cracked egg. And I’d never even realized all that protected me was a thin, fragile shell. Joke was on me.

  Tomorrow, Monday, I’d meet Lymon Culpepper at three o’clock to sell him my ranch. We’d texted and I’d agreed to meet him after my shift at the diner. I had breakfast and lunch, our busiest meals, from six to two. Then I’d meet the Toad Man and sign everything away.

  Declan’s old cabin stood out my window in the darkness, silhouetted in the moonlight. On another evening I might have romanticized it, seen it as a beautiful reminder of my lost love. But that was then and this was now. In this new reality, my heart just ached.

  I needed to figure out how to stop this crushing heartbreak and move on. I needed a new me, hardened and jaded, brash and bold. I needed to emerge from the fire stronger than before, forged steel, never able to break again.

  But right then, at that moment, I felt melted. How could he have done that to me? How could I have let him?

  The worst of it, the real kicker, was the deep, slow burn I still felt lit within me. Like the pilot light on a gas stove, from the outside it might be cold to the touch, but deep inside it still burned. As I lay there in the hot darkness, I had to admit the cruelest joke was that I still wanted him.

  I should be angry, sad, resentful, anything other than what I was. Yearning. I’d never feel Declan’s hand on my skin again, never be wrapped up tight in his powerful arms. I’d never feel the touch of his mouth or his wicked, entrancing tongue.

  I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop the ache. I wanted him so badly I bit my lip and tasted my own blood. That was good. It reminded me that this was going to hurt. Getting over Declan, picking myself up and moving on was going to hurt like a bitch. But I was going to have to be strong. Just when I’d thought I was done with all that, ready to fall back into the down comforter of love, I realized I only had a bed of nails.

  There was no easy way out, no prince charming. Real life didn’t always give you options and rescues. Someday life might get easier for me. But not right now.

  I thought I’d felt heartbreak before when Declan had left. I realized I’d known nothing about it. I’d been a girl, a sweet, sheltered young thing. When he’d left the first time around, a lone, puffy cloud had appeared in my sunny, blue sky. I’d felt some drizzle. This time around, I’d entered monsoon season.

  That deep, smoky intimacy he’d introduced me to, the intense pleasures he’d coaxed out of me with the velvet of his voice and the stroke of his hand. I’d felt like I was truly getting to know him, the real Declan, the tough, tortured soul who’d fought his demons and won, defying the odds to end up on top of the world. I thought I’d seen his vulnerability, and his growing attachment. Unlike my teenage crush before, now I’d known a woman’s love, the promise of deep fulfillment from real connection and intimacy. After the limitless high of that joy, it felt like I might suffocate in pain.

  Before, I hadn’t known what had happened. Declan had left without a word. It had tortured me, not knowing, but it had given me an out as well. Maybe something had taken him away, some family emergency had happened that tied him up? Against all odds, a part of me had still hoped that he’d loved me despite all appearances to the contrary. He’d never told me he didn’t. It had never occurred to me that my father had sent him away, but then I’d proven many times over I could be pretty stupid.

  Come to think of it, who knew if that story he’d told me was even true? Declan seemed capable of living multiple realities at the same time. He s
ure had me fooled, dreaming all sorts of ridiculous fantasies about the two of us all while he’d been involved with Courtney and who knew who else? Maybe the evening I left he’d shrugged his shoulders and went out on the town? While I cried my heart out on a red-eye flight back West, he probably went clubbing and had the best sex of his life with some random woman. He probably didn’t even know her name, simpler that way.

  With a full-body, to-my-bones sigh, I acknowledged maybe moving away from the ranch was a good idea. I wasn’t doing it by choice. Frankly, it felt like tearing my limbs off. But lying around dwelling in maudlin thoughts while staring at Declan’s old cabin wasn’t doing me any good. If your heart had taken root in the wrong place, maybe you needed to take drastic action to rip it out of the earth.

  Tomorrow I’d sign the papers. Within weeks I’d be packed up and out of this place for good. It stole my breath away to think of it, but maybe I needed it. At least I wouldn’t waste any more nights lying in my childhood bed staring out at an old cabin in the moonlight. Here, the memories clung to me, pulling me down with their weight. I didn’t know what would come next, but it would be a fresh start if nothing else.

  Tomorrow I’d get upbeat. Tomorrow I’d take a brisk shower, drink some coffee, and take a firm step in the right direction. Tonight I shifted in the sheets, pushed down and tangled by my feet. In the heat my thin cotton t-shirt stuck to my skin. Even my panties felt like too much.

  Declan would rip them right off. He wouldn’t waste any time. I could feel how he would hook his strong fingers at the seams, making swift work of them, quickly breaking down any resistance just like he did in me.

  There in the heat and darkness, I could almost feel how it would be with him, how he’d slip a finger into my folds, find me wet for him, always ready for him to part me, stroke me. The feel of his rough, thick fingers between my legs, slick sliding in and out of my sex, building my heat, making me pant. He always knew exactly what I needed, what even I didn’t know I craved. He melted down all my defenses, made me beg for exactly what I’d feared.

  I’d felt so ashamed when he’d first teased my ass, spanking me hard, taking my own pussy juices to rim my hole. My lips parted at the memory, my breathing picking up. I could almost feel him now, fingers at my clit, at my nipple, his cock pressing huge at my quivering entrance.

  My eyes popped open. I pressed my palms against the bed, my heart racing. This was going to be difficult. I was going through withdrawal like a drug addict. I should have just said no. Now I was going to have to go through the DTs like a hardcore alcoholic suddenly gone dry. I needed a treatment program, somewhere I could check in and sober up for six weeks. Did they offer that? I’d heard of sex addicts, but I didn’t think I was addicted to sex, in general, just sex with Declan. Was there a Declan rehab center? Not likely.

  Instead, I guessed I’d have to keep myself busy. Really busy. Good thing I had a shitstorm to deal with. Tomorrow I’d start the day breaking the news to our foreman Bill, telling him I was selling the ranch to Lymon. I didn’t know what Lymon had planned for the place, but maybe he’d keep Bill on? He’d be smart to do it. Bill knew this place better than anyone, myself included.

  Then I’d head back to my old job waiting tables at the Chan ‘n’ Chew. Dishin’ out the smiles. I was sure there’d be all sorts of questions about my absence. In a town this small, if people hadn’t exactly found out I’d gone to see Declan, they’d at least done some speculating. I’d deflect all “Where have you been?” and “What have you been up to?” questions with a vague “taking care of a few things.” Everyone knew I had more than a few things to take care of since my father’s death. It was common knowledge that the ranch was belly-up.

  And no one would believe the truth anyway. They shouldn’t. The last week in New York hadn’t been real. All of the emotions I’d felt, the excitement, the passion, the joy, I needed to burn them all out of my brain. It had been an illusion, like a drug-induced hallucination. I needed to drain it all out of my system like a poison.

  Tomorrow would be a cold dose of reality. At three o’clock sharp, I’d meet Lymon Culpepper. And I’d do my level best not to outwardly wretch in revulsion as I signed all the papers giving him full ownership of my family’s ranch.

  §

  I didn’t bother changing out of my waitressing uniform. What did it matter? So I had a coffee stain down the front of my green polyester button-up dress. I could sink no lower. It seemed the right thing to wear to sign it all away.

  I’d acted like a zombie all day. I’d managed to show up for my shift at the Chat ‘n’ Chew on time and I’d worked there long enough I could go through the motions. Dot welcomed me back and that was about it. She never said much. She didn’t today, either, but I could feel her watching me more than usual, the slightest hint of concern on her broad face. From Dot, that meant I looked like I needed a medic.

  Somehow I made it through my shift, wiping down coffee spills and toast crumbs from Formica countertops. Pouring refills and suggesting the special of the day. Nothing had changed

  After work, I plugged the address Lymon Culpepper had given me into my phone. When I got there, I had to wonder if I’d found the right place. It looked like an abandoned warehouse. What kind of businessman wanted to sign papers in a place like that? Add it to the list, the long list of things that gave me the creeps about this Toad Man. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel and I just about floored the gas pedal and peeled right on out of there.

  But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Now was the time to man-up, face the music and do what I needed to do. I had to sell and he was my buyer. Not too many people wanted to buy a run-down ranch in middle-of-nowhere America that hadn’t turned a profit in over a decade. Fresh off my recent trip to a real city, I now realized I was lucky to have even one, low offer.

  With a tentative knock, I found the door open and entered into the high-ceilinged warehouse. Across the dim, empty room, light shown through a crack under a door.

  “Hello?” I called out. My voice nearly echoed and I had to repress a shiver of dread.

  The door opened and out waddled Lymon Culpepper, all gussied up in a tan suit with sweat stains at the armpits. His cowboy boots had extra tall heels, but he still didn’t quite measure up to my eye-level.

  “The lovely Miss Brooks.” He gave me a thin smile with tobacco-stained teeth, assessing me with his cold, flat eyes.

  “Mr. Culpepper.” I nodded.

  “Call me Lymon.” He brought a hand to the small of my back and instantly it stuck to me, as if the sweaty heat had glued it there. I let him guide me back to the office, forcing myself to take each step.

  “Great space here, don’t you agree?” He grimaced another dark smile, keeping me a fraction too close to his side. I looked around at the mildewed walls and ceiling missing a plank. “Mmm-hmm,” I managed, non-committal.

  “I’ve got big plans for it,” Lymon assured me. What kind of business would thrive there? I had a feeling I didn’t want to know.

  “Right this way.” He led me into the back office. I didn’t want to go in. It felt like being led into a trap, but politeness won out. I gulped down my panic and allowed myself to be enclosed into the room.

  Over in the corner a man stood with his hands clasped together in front of him. He had to weigh about 300 pounds, his shirt bulging and gigantic over the waist of his jeans. He nodded when I came in, but Lymon didn’t introduce us and he didn’t say a word. The henchman, I guessed. But what legitimate businessman conducted business with a bodyguard in an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of town?

  Lymon got right down to the task at hand. He had a stack of papers on his messy desk and he sat me down next to him in front of the pile. So much paperwork.

  I started signing and signing and signing some more. He watched me the whole time, licking his chops like I was preparing a meal. Or I was the meal.

  The room felt too hot, too close, like I didn’t have enough air. There weren’t any windows and t
he pages seemed to go on forever. There was plenty of time for something to intervene, someone to rush in and say, “Wait, stop, you don’t have to do this!” Or even a natural disaster. I’d take a small tornado over signing everything over to the likes of Lymon Culpepper.

  But nothing happened except my pen moving from one stack of papers to the next. Finally, I made it to the last page. Tired as I was of scratching my pen around, I still wished it wasn’t over. But it was. The deal was done.

  A small part of me had honestly expected something else. Declan to sweep in. The earth to stop turning. Neither happened. The ranch now belonged to the Toad Man. I looked at the stack of paperwork and felt numb.

  “You’ve done the right thing, Kara.” I didn’t like hearing my name come out of his mouth, as if it created some sense of intimacy that wasn’t there in the least. “You had no other options.”

  “Yup.” Nothing like adding salt to my wounds. I put the pen back in my purse and gathered up my strength to stand up and leave.

  “What’s next for you, Kara?” Lymon examined me with flat, beady eyes. The lighting in the room shone too bright like a doctor’s office. The light reflected off of his sweaty, bald head.

  “I’m not sure.” I shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

  “Where are you going to live?”

  “I’ll figure something out.” I needed to get out of there, quick, before I started crying. Why did I feel like he’d enjoy seeing my weakness?

  “I can help you out,” he continued, his voice oddly devoid of emotion. “I might have some ideas. Now that you have nowhere to live.” He looked at me like he was going to eat me up. I nodded out of automatic politeness, but eyed the door.