Knotted (Trails of Sin 1)

The past is behind us, but I still mourn it. I mourn my relationship with Dalton. I mourn Lorne’s absence. Most of all, I mourn the six years I lost with Jake. I resent it as strongly as I cherish every breath we share now. But that’s okay. It’s okay to cry and be angry. I’ll never bottle that shit up again.

The moonlight casts a tranquil glow across the field, creating fathomless shadows between the ripples in the terrain. I can see our childhood in them—the joy, the serenity, and the indestructible love between the four of us.

I let myself drift back to that innocent place. I let the tears fall when they fill my eyes. And l let Jake hold me until it passes.

Thank God this day has come and gone. All the pain we suffered, all the hurt we survived, it’s over. Gone.

I lift Lorne’s guitar from the chair beside us and strum a few notes, listening to Jake breathe and matching the soothing rhythm.

My fingers move over the strings, searching for a song until I lock onto Breathe by Faith Hill.

He strokes my hair while I play, watches my lips while I sing, and smiles when I smile.

I wear the skin that feels his touch.

I breathe the air that fills his lungs.

I’m the girl he wants, the one he loves, and he’s mine.

“It’s just us,” I whisper.

He kisses my neck. “That’s all we need.”

I tuck Conor into bed after she falls asleep in my arms on the back porch. Head on the pillow, she blinks up at me, all soft and sleepy-eyed, and I fall in love for the millionth time.

“I’m going to check on Jarret.” I kiss the cushion of her lips.

“’kay.” She turns on her side and closes her eyes. “Love you.”

“You, too.”

She’s so insanely beautiful I’m held captive in her presence, standing over her, drinking her in, and watching her sleep like an obsessed creeper.

There’s no question I’m obsessed. Unapologetically so.

I kiss her again and force my boots out of the room and through the house.

Jarret’s not in his bedroom or office. Maybe he went out? He didn’t seem to be in the mood for a hook up. Something’s on his mind, and I’m too nosy to let it go.

When I step onto the front porch, I spot an unfamiliar sedan parked next to his truck in the lot. Neither of us have ever brought a fling to the ranch. Our home is our sanctuary, and we trust no one outside of our childhood circle.

I head around the side of the estate and scan the dark pasture.

Across the field, the interior lights of the stable glow through the open doorway. He’s in there with whomever is visiting.

Except we don’t get late-night visitors.

This reeks of a certain meddlesome journalist. What the fuck is he doing with her?

I take the short walk to find out.

At the entrance of the stable, I push past the door and slam to a stop.

Arms bound to a support post and legs kicking air, Maybe Quinn is trussed up with rope and seething past clenched teeth.

I guess that’s one way to deal with the journalist.

“You’re going to regret this, you sick, perverted, sick…sicko!” She thrashes against the restraints, causing her dirt-smudged dress to slip farther off her shoulder.

She’s a filthy mess, hair hanging in her face and skirts ruched up in the rope.

Jarret circles her, flicking a riding crop against her bare legs. Irritation lines his expression, but beneath that, he’s worked up in a way I don’t want to see my brother. Ever.

I edge closer, pausing a few feet away, and they turn their heads in my direction.

“Is this consensual?”

I hate asking him that question. He would never force a woman. Though, there’s a gray area, a dubious zone that he and I love to play in.

Jarret gives her another whack with the crop, and she growls at him.

“I don’t know.” He steps into her space, grips the pole above her head, and puts his face in hers. “Is it consensual, Maybe? Do we have a deal?”

The hungry look in his eyes tells me exactly what kind of deal he’s offering.

“This is not what I had in mind.” Her chest heaves, cinching the rope he looped around her torso.

“Yes or no.” He pinches her chin, making her breaths come harder. “My brother’s not going to leave until he knows you’re willing. Do you want the story or not?”

I don’t know what bullshit story he promised her, because he sure as hell wouldn’t give her the story.

She cuts her eyes at me. “You can go. I’ll deal with your brother.”

I meet Jarret’s gaze. “You might want to bind her—”

She kicks out and nails him directly in the groin.

“—legs.”

He bends over, cupping himself, and shoots me a glare. “I’ve got this.”

“I see that.” I back away, grinning. “Good luck.”