He stares down at me, looking confused, looking lost. Then he smiles, and my heart nearly bursts at the sight of it.
Leaning forward, he presses his lips to mine, parting my mouth with his tongue, before kissing me silly. Frantically and possessively. Revealing the truth I so desperately search for without saying a word.
Morning’s light filters into the room, and only then does he stop.
He rolls away and onto his back, breaking contact. Now I’m the one feeling lost.
I sigh.
“Sleep,” he orders.
Then does the unthinkable. He takes my hand firmly in his grasp and holds it, even as my eyelids flutter and sleep washes over me.
“Madelyn?”
“Hmmm,” I remember asking, too exhausted for words. But when I hear what he says, it settles over me, comforting me like a warm, worn afghan.
“Mine wasn’t the word I was thinking of.”
Little did I know I’d end up alone and locked in Declan’s bedroom by the time the sun hits the horizon.
Not that I can see the sunrise through the cracks between the louvers of the shutters that have been fixed in place. Yeah, I checked. Right after I discovered the door locked tight.
But the kicker is, he’s left a loaf of bread, a butter knife, a jar of peanut butter, a jar of blueberry jam, and a twelve-pack of water on the floor just inside the door.
Proof he’s gone.
Leaving me alone at the Ranch. Trapped inside his bedroom, my body aching along with my heart.
Instead of bliss, it’s a postcoital diss. Damn him.
It hurts, him disappearing without a word. Especially considering the possessive way he made love to me. He’s stolen away and taken with him my certainty in this fragile thing between us.
“Mine wasn’t the word I was thinking of,” he said.
Love. Did he mean love? Because that’s how it felt last night.
I inhale, then exhale slowly in measured breaths. “It’s okay if you say the word, Declan,” I want to reassure him. But that’ll have to wait because he’s disappeared and has gone in search of Kylie. He’s helping me, as promised.
And when he finds her, what condition will he find her in?
With a shake of my head, I tread into the adjacent bathroom and turn the shower on hot. Listening as the water beats out in cadence Don’t worry. Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I sigh. Yeah, don’t worry, right? After all, Kylie’s trained for something like this.
Hadn’t I witnessed firsthand how capable she’s become back at the motel? If that man hadn’t put a knife to my throat, we’d have escaped.
Escaped them, that is. As for Declan . . .
It’s frustrating, this not knowing. This perpetual shade of gray I’ve been living in. It’s like within the past four months . . . longer, really, since Mama was diagnosed with cancer . . . since Pop was murdered . . . color has been replaced by this ceaseless band of grayness. On occasion, it cracks open and a burst of heart-stopping color flashes through. Making me forget the gray until it closes back in on me.
This has to stop. Because a girl like me, with her head in the clouds, her heart on a fragile pedestal, her intensions pure and most of the time heartfelt, only thrives in color. I’m tired of this. Tired of waiting around. Tired of being left in the dark.
When they return, the two of them have a lot of explaining to do. Not another day is going to pass by without me understanding fully what they’re involved in. Not if I’m going to be part of their lives.
A vivid, loving part of both of their lives.
I step into the shower and let the water do its magic. A few minutes later, I’m wincing as I gingerly wash myself.
Brother. When Declan commits to something, he’s ruthless. Evidence of our passion lay mapped out across my body.
A love bite on my left breast. Another on my neck. A bruise on my hip from God knows what. A soreness between my thighs from his relentless lovemaking. Muscles throbbing in places I never believed muscles existed. Every fiber of my being is worn out and satiated.
Despite my delicate state, I grin, my spirits lifting. I guess this is what love feels like with a man like Declan.
I take my time toweling dry my hair. Then a bit longer to run a comb through the tangled mess until it’s sleek and smooth, in line with my feelings. Securing a second towel around my body, I head into the bedroom.
And nearly drop my towel.
A strange man is sitting on the edge of our rumpled, unmade bed. Impeccably dressed in a black suit, gray tie, and shoes so expertly polished you could see your reflection within the shiny black leather. Here for Declan? Or . . . me?
“Madelyn,” he comments. It isn’t a question, just a statement. Like how you’d address a long-lost acquaintance or a high-school friend you haven’t seen in a few years and you happen to bump into.
“What do you want?” I demand, refusing to give in to the fear rising up inside of me. His hair is dark, the color of the sky when a tornado is approaching. It’s slicked back off his face, pulled and twisted into a neat bun. Despite the dim light, aviator sunglasses conceal his eyes. His jawline is sharp, probably from the way he clenches his teeth together like he’s trying to intimidate me, unaware of how I’ve been taking a crash course in dealing with domineering men.
I continue my study of him, acting unfazed despite my heart beating in double time. Despite his odd, casual man bun, he’s dressed in a suit that pulls tightly across his broad shoulders and seems to be struggling to fit across his ample biceps. His looks, manner, and presence radiate power and control, occupying Declan’s room like he owns the place.
Maybe he does, I think. How did he break into Freedom’s Bluff when it’s locked up like Fort Knox? A key code? Scale the electric fence? And he knows my name.
“Hayden.”
“Smart girl.” His voice is like whisky, husky and deceptively mild. “I see Declan’s been keeping you busy.” Another statement.
Instinctively, I move my hand to the unmistakable hickey on the side of my throat, though his mirrored eyes make it difficult to tell what he’s referring to. My cheeks heat as I glance at the rumpled bedsheets. No way to ignore them, especially not with him sitting on the edge of the bed like this.
Whether or not he owns this ranch, bedrooms are private, intimate places. This stranger has no business being in here. Waiting for me to finish showering and . . . what?
No wonder Kylie’s afraid of him.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spy the open bedroom door. Do I make a run for it? Damp from a shower, with a towel wrapped around me and a damn electric fence penning me in? Or has Declan returned? Is he somewhere on the premises, ready to swoop in and save me once again?
I inhale sharply, the scent of sex still potent within the room, which is an answer in itself. If Declan were around, he’d be here, in bed with me beneath him.
He wouldn’t leave you alone with this man, either.
I notch my chin a bit higher. There’ll be no escaping this stranger. Not yet, but if I can find those roofies . . .
“Good decision. You wouldn’t get far. You have a brain in your head, like your sister.”
My eyes go wide.
“Come closer. Let me see what all this sneaking around is about. Who is worth sabotaging years of work for. Who exactly is accountable for the small mutiny I’ve got going on within my organization. Why all my players feel inclined to keep your secrets.”