Knotted (Trails of Sin 1)

And now she believes she’s truly alone.

Gravel crunches beneath the angry tread of boots behind me. I square my shoulders, brace for what’s coming, and turn to face my brother.

His first strike hits hard and swift, directly across my mouth. I stumble back, welcoming the spurt of blood. Relishing the pain. I deserve it.

We read her email this morning and knew she was coming home. But we didn’t know why. The past few hours were a race against the clock, orchestrating a mix-up in cattle records that detained Dad at the stockyards in Oklahoma City until tomorrow.

Someone wants Conor dead, and I added my dad to the list of suspects the moment he started drilling in the south pasture. Natural gas? Oil? He’s tight-lipped about it. Not to mention all his shady new business partners. He’s running a side business off the books. It’s sketchy as fuck, and Conor and Lorne are tied in somehow. It’s just a gut feeling. One I’ve yet to prove.

But that’s not why Jarret’s fixing to beat me into a bloody pulp.

Planting a girl in my bed was my idea. He warned me if I went through with it, he would rearrange my face.

Conor’s always been like a sister to him, and I see that protective love blazing in his eyes as he rears back an arm.

I block the punch and deliver one of my own, slamming into his solar plexus with enough strength to remind him I would never fuck Sara Gilly.

He staggers, crashes against the ground, and springs to his feet, glaring with unwarranted accusations.

I didn’t sexually or intimately touch Sara. I didn’t kiss her. Didn’t remove my boxers. I didn’t even get wood.

I’m still a virgin, because I love Conor Cassidy.

My brother damn well knows that. But Conor doesn’t, and that’s what this is about. Jarret wanted to guard her without hurting her. He wanted her to stay far away without giving her a reason. He wanted the impossible.

There was nothing, absolutely nothing, that would’ve kept her from returning home. Not her father. Not the threat against her life. Not the trails of sin and corruption running beneath the ranch.

I did the only thing I could to protect her.

I broke her heart, because I love her.

Another jaw-crushing punch knocks me backward, shooting pain through my skull. He swings again and again, pummeling my face and stomach. He hits me for hurting Conor. For trusting her dad to look after her. For letting her messages go unanswered. For making her believe she’s unwanted.

I don’t raise a hand to block his blows. The night air shudders with our combined pain, and I embrace it. I let him beat the shit out of me.

I’ll bleed for her, because I love her.

Since the day Lorne pleaded guilty to murder, her brother’s been adamant about keeping her away from the ranch. His imperative became my imperative, his fear my fear.

Severing communication with her for two years eviscerated me. Driving her away from the ranch today was worse. Did I make a terrible mistake? I’m still not sure.

Graduating high school and gaining twenty pounds of muscle have given me a facade of maturity I don’t possess. I don’t have enough years under my belt to carve a clear path through this. I’m operating on raw, protective, animalistic instinct.

The right choice and the hardest choice are the same. Isn’t that what they say?

All I know is I’d rather Conor live without me than not live at all. But I didn’t come to that realization overnight.

Dad disconnected our phones the day she moved to Chicago. That bought me time to talk to Lorne, investigate Dalton’s reasons for leaving, and figure out what the fuck to do about the shit I learned.

Someone doesn’t want Conor and Lorne in Sandbank, and they’ll resort to murder to bring their purpose to fruition.

I could’ve gone to the authorities. Except the county sheriff and his deputies spend a fuckton of time behind closed doors with my Dad. They’re all on my suspect list.

I could’ve left home. I could’ve moved anywhere in the country and convinced Conor to join me. But without understanding the threat, I would’ve spent the rest of my life in constant fear, watching her back and putting myself between her and whoever intends to cause her harm.

I can’t run away and leave this unsolved. I can’t let her enemies go unpunished.

When I determine who wants her gone, I’ll take them out. And when her rapist goes free, I’ll honor the blood oath.

I’ll kill for her, because I love her.

Jarret paces before me, panting and flexing his bloody fists. Rage etches his face, his hunger for justice unquenched. I’m the only one he can take it out on.

I watch him warily, imploring with my eyes. What was I supposed to do?

He answers with hollow strikes. No solutions. He has nothing to offer but torment.