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Ravenous
Steel Brothers Saga: Book Eleven
HELEN HARDT
This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
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Copyright © 2019 Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Design by Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Photographs: Shutterstock
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All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Epilogue
Continue reading the Steel Brothers Saga with Book Twelve
Message from Helen Hardt
Also By Helen Hardt
Acknowledgments
About Helen Hardt
To my favorite cousins—Carl, John (aka Yodel), and Chris (aka Tuna). The psychiatric ward lives on!
Prologue
Sometimes, when I’m watching, a memory haunts me. Torments me.
Reminds me why I’m watching.
Sometimes, when I’m watching, anger rages at me, pours out of me through my fists.
Reminds me why I’m watching.
Sometimes, when I’m watching, despair trickles through me, taking part of my soul.
Reminds me why I’m watching.
Most of the time, though…
I feel nothing.
Chapter One
Bryce
After staring at her for as long as I could and choking back a tear that threatened, I covered Marjorie’s sleeping body.
I love you.
Had she meant to say the words aloud? They’d come out on a soft sigh during one of her many climaxes, and though I’d yearned to return them, I hadn’t.
I couldn’t go there. Not yet. Not until…
Not until I’d dealt with the demons that plagued me…including the long-buried secret from Joe’s and my past that threatened us now.
I had to move on, make her understand that we couldn’t ever be. I dressed quietly and then walked out to the desk in the kitchen. After finding a notepad and pen, I scribbled down some words.
Noxious words I didn’t mean but had to say. She needed to move on, and I needed to help her. I walked back into the bedroom where my perfect angel still slept. I kissed her cheek lightly. She moved slightly but didn’t wake up.
I wanted to remember her like this—soft and innocent and beautiful. So fucking beautiful.
I’m sorry, I said silently. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve.
One more light kiss to her silky forehead.
Then I laid the note on the nightstand next to her.
I walked out of the bedroom.
Out of the guesthouse.
Out of Marjorie Steel’s life.
I opened the door of the Mustang—I really needed to get rid of this damned car—sat down in the driver’s seat, and pulled my phone out of my pocket.
Marjorie’s text glared at me.
I need to talk to you.
We hadn’t talked. I’d attacked her as soon as I got here. She hadn’t resisted, but still…I should have asked her what she wanted to talk about. Instead, I’d chosen to be a selfish bastard and take from her body what I needed to stay sane.
Funny. The more I had of her, the less sane I became. The more I had of her, the more I wanted her, which was why I’d left. Why I’d written those hurtful words. Cold turkey was the only way to go with Marjorie Steel. Somehow, I’d have to find the willpower to leave her alone.
But she’s in love with you.
She’d said the words in the throes of passion. I’d been thinking them myself but had held back. I wasn’t even sure if she was aware she’d uttered them. If she could see inside my head, inside my dark soul, she’d see the truth.
I wasn’t worth loving.
She was, though. She was so strong and so passionate. She deserved the world. I wanted to give it to her more than anything, but how could I? I was an empty shell—someone masquerading as a man but desolate inside.
I had such hatred for myself, and I hadn’t thought I could hate myself any more.
But I did.
I did because I’d written those despicable words to the woman who meant more to me than anyone—other than my son—ever had.
I’d written them so she could see me for who I truly was—someone who could never give her what she deserved. The only way she’d stay away from me was if she thought I was a true louse.
I ruminated over the words I’d left on the page.
You can still sneak back in, destroy the note before she sees it…
I erased the thought from my mind. I’d done the only thing I could. She would hate me now, with good reason. I had to live with that.
I drove home, checked on a sleeping Henry, and then collapsed onto my bed for the last time.
Tomorrow we’d move to the guesthouse.
Chapter Two
Marjorie
The note was callous.
The words were cruel.
Even the sheet of paper was crisp and unsympathetic.
Bryce Simpson was heartless.
I’d fallen in love with a heartless man.
My purse sat on a chair on the other side of the room. Still naked from our night of passion, I rose and grabbed it. Inside the hidden pocket was something I’d kept, even though I’d promised Mel I’d trashed it.
It was a reminder.
It was a security blanket.
Right now I needed it.
Stop.
I could walk to the kitchen. Open the refrigerator. Let the blast of cold air ease the unpleasantness from my mind.
Yes, it would be easier.
Much easier than…
I unzipped the pocket slow
ly and withdrew the sharp razor blade. I sat back down on the bed and regarded the scar on my upper thigh. It was still red, but it had healed. If I left it alone, it would eventually turn white and then gradually fade over the years.
Slowly, I lowered the blade to my flesh.
But the note caught my gaze once more. Why torture myself?
I couldn’t help it. The words called to me like a gruesome accident I couldn’t look away from, no matter how much I didn’t want to see.
Because I did want to see. My rite of self-flagellation. Words would cut deeper than any blade ever could.
So I read them once more. Imagined his low and sexy voice uttering each one.
Marjorie,
* * *
I’m leaving, and I don’t want you to pursue me. I can’t deny our physical attraction, but I have no emotional ties to you. I’ll be working on the ranch and living in the guesthouse, but I’ll stay as far away from you as I possibly can. I need to be alone now. I can’t have my attention diverted by my best friend’s little sister. I need to give everything I have to my new position and to my son and mother. I don’t need an extra distraction in my life. Nothing happened between us, and nothing more will ever happen. You are Joe’s sister, nothing more.
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Bryce
Such stilted words, as if he were addressing an audience of foreign dignitaries rather than a woman he’d just made love to.
A distraction? I was only a distraction?
Joe’s sister? Nothing more?
Such coldness. No sorrow. No pleading with me to understand. Nothing but hurtful and icy words.
Thank God I hadn’t told him I loved him.
Oh, I’d been thinking it. Through all those orgasms, I’d been saying it over and over in my mind.
Once more I let the blade hover over my scarred flesh.
How easy it would be to slice into myself, allow the physical pain to overwhelm the emotional.
No. No. No.
I rose, still naked, and ran into the kitchen. The refrigerator loomed white and tall. My savior. I opened it and stood in the corner between the door and the shelves, letting the cold air waft over me.
My nipples puckered and goose bumps erupted on my skin.
Nothing went away, but at least the cool air eliminated the need—for the moment, at least—to cut myself. Mel would be proud of me. I should be proud of myself.
But I felt no pride. All I felt was devastation.
When I closed the refrigerator door, the scar on my upper thigh throbbed, taunting me.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
The cold air is gone. You know what will give you peace.
Do it. Do it. Do it.
“No!” I opened the refrigerator door once more. Inhaled the cold air.
Inhaled it again.
Again.
Again.
Again and again and again. I didn’t stop when the urge to cut had escaped me. I continued to breathe in the cold air, ignoring the aromas of food, focusing only on the chill.
Finally, I closed the door once more, the scar still buzzing but no longer throbbing.
I could do this. I would be okay. For now, at least.
I tore the note into pieces and shoved it down the garbage disposal.
Not that it would do any good. I’d remember those words as long as I lived. Still, it gave me a sense of letting go of something I had no control over. Now to be proactive, as Mel said.
I’d get home to help Jade with the boys—anything to get my mind off Bryce and his cruelty. Jade had been ill last night after our talk with Colin. I dressed and hurried back to the main house to see how she was feeling.
The boys were still in bed, so I got them up and moving—Dale insisted he was fine to go back to school—and then I went to check on Jade.
I knocked softly. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Come on in.” She was up and sitting in a recliner, clad in sweat pants and a T-shirt.
“Feeling okay?”
“Physically? Pretty good, actually. Emotionally? I’m a wreck.”
I nodded. “Colin.”
“Yup. What isn’t he telling us?”
“I wish I knew. Where’s Tal?”
“He got up before the butt crack of dawn. He told me why, I think, but I was half asleep and can’t recall.”
“He’s probably in the orchard. The boys are up, and Dale says he wants to go to school today.”
“Really? I should talk to him.”
“Sure. I’ll send him in to see you. Then I’m going to fix breakfast for them. Do you want anything?”
“I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway.”
“Okay. Let me know if that changes.”
Donny was already dressed and in the kitchen when I got there. Dale stumbled in a few minutes later while I was frying bacon.
“Dale, your mom wants to talk to you in her bedroom.”
He nodded and left the kitchen. Dale still wasn’t much of a talker, and since he’d freaked during recess over seeing someone he thought might be from his past, he’d clammed up even more. Talon was the best at getting through to him. Dale was still pretty distant with Jade, and I could tell it bothered her, but she was giving him the space he needed. She wasn’t going to pressure him, I knew. She just wanted to make sure he was okay with going back to school.
A few minutes later he returned to the kitchen, and I set a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast in front of him.
“Still going to school?” I asked.
He nodded and started on his breakfast. Once the boys were off, I went back in to see Jade.
“Dale okay?” I asked.
“He seems to be. Thank God for Talon. I’d be lost handling Dale alone.”
“You’d be fine, but Talon does seem to be able to reach him.”
“I’m feeling kind of obsolete around here.”
“You’re being silly, and you know it. Those boys adore you.”
“Well…Donny does.”
“So does Dale. He’s just quiet. Plus, he’s scared everything is going to collapse around him again. All he needs is time.”
“I know. It’s frustrating, though. I’ve assured him time and again that Talon and I aren’t going anywhere.”
“He’ll come around. What does Melanie say?”
“That he’s healing and you can’t put a time frame on these things.”
I smiled. “Sounds a lot like what I just said.”
“I know. Still, I’m worried, and Talon doesn’t say so, but he is too.”
“About the guy Dale saw at recess?”
She nodded.
“It could have been his imagination.”
“I know that. But even if it’s not someone he thinks he recognized, why is a guy in a hoodie hanging around a playground? It’s creepy.”
“Yeah, I know. The cops are on it. They’ll be watching.”
“Talon’s calling in Mills and Johnson too.”
“I figured he would.”
“He’ll do whatever he has to do to protect those boys,” Jade said, “and so will I. That’s why I think I need to go back to work.”
“They need you here,” I said.
“I know. But I’m pulling my hair out. I feel so useless. Gah! Let’s talk about something else. And not about Colin, either. What were you doing at the guesthouse last night?”
Bam!
A two-ton rock crashed down on my head. Or so it felt, anyway.
Last night at the guesthouse.
I hadn’t succeeded at forcing any of it from my mind, but at least I’d had something to do. Now? No way was I telling Jade any of this. I didn’t need to add to her distress.
Plus…I’d never confided in her about the cutting. It was the only secret I’d ever kept from my best friend. I was just too ashamed. Only Mel knew, and I needed to call her. This morning had been a little too close for comfort.
“Just wanted to use the hot tub,” I said, hating the acidic taste of the lie on my tongue.
“Marj, we have a perfectly good hot tub here.”
“I know, but I needed a little alone time.” Would she buy that?
“Oh. Yeah, I get it. It’s kind of a three-ring circus around here. Sorry about that.”
“I don’t mean it that way. I love being here, and I love you and my brothers and those adorable boys.”
“I know you didn’t mean it badly. I’m just saying I understand.”
I smiled—a forced smile, but a smile nonetheless. “If you ever need some alone time, just let me know.”
“Are you kidding? I spend most days alone in this damned bedroom. The time I have with Talon, the boys, and you makes my days.” She laughed. “Besides, no hot tub for me until I have this baby.”
I loved hearing Jade laugh, and I especially loved hearing her talk about having the baby. After her scare at the hospital, she’d been nervous about losing the child.
“Once you give birth, you and I will have a girls’ hot-tub date complete with bubbles—jacuzzi bubbles and Champagne.”
“It’s a date!”
I returned her smile as best I could. “I have something to take care of. Let me know if you need anything.”