Unleashed #4 (3 page)

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 sure 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 the 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.

“There are many ways
a woman like you could do very well for herself.” He reached a
finger out and trailed it along my bare arm, just beneath the short
sleeve of my dress. His eyes fixed on my breasts.

“OK, well then.”
That got me moving. I stood up. “I need to head out now. Bill’s
waiting for me.” Suddenly I wished Bill was waiting for me, that
I’d given him the address here and he knew exactly where I was and
when to expect me back. The giant goon in the corner took a step
forward, the monster sprung to life. Lymon watched me, then glanced
over at Frankenstein and nodded him off. Almost as if he were saying,
‘not yet.’

“We’ll check in on
you in a few days,” Lymon said to me, rising to his feet. “We’ll
come see how we can help.”

“That won’t be
necessary,” I assured him, sternly, suddenly feeling naked in my
small, tight dress. Why hadn’t I put on a cardigan at least? He
seemed to look right through my clothing. He stood between me and the
door as if enjoying his power and wanting to feel it a few moments
longer. Staring at my cleavage at the top of my dress, he licked his
lips.

“Oh, but it is,” he
insisted. “I’m obligated. Now that I own…” He waited a
moment, fixated heavily on my breasts before adding, “your ranch.”

I could feel the big
guy behind me, a step closer. This wasn’t a large office and I
stood sandwiched between two men. I’d been stupid to meet them
there. I hadn’t been thinking clearly, not at all. My eyes flitted
to the desk to see what I could use as a weapon if I needed one. I
saw a big stapler, the old fashioned kind that weighed a ton. If I
could grab it and clock Lymon over the head, maybe I’d have
surprise and speed to my advantage and I could get the hell out of
there.

“I need to—” I
tried, hating the way fear made my voice tremble.

“Yes.” Lymon
interrupted me, bringing a hand to my arm, the arm I was going to use
to grab the stapler. Holding on tight, he took a step closer. “I’m
going to keep an eye on you, Kara. Make sure you’re all right.”
Oh, God I wanted to get out of there. I knew I was shaking and I
wished I could stop. I could almost tell he was getting off on it,
enjoying my vulnerability and desperation.

“I have some work for
you.” His eyes took me in, glittering and cold.

“I’m leaving now.”
I broke free of his hand and pushed past him. He could have stopped
me, stuck out his foot and grabbed hold of me. He weighed a lot more
than me, plus he had his goon there behind me to do his bidding. But
he let me go.

“We’ll check on you
soon,” he called out after me.

I didn’t respond,
didn’t look back. Out in the fresh air I promised myself to never
be so stupid again. I was on my own now, really and truly, without
even the safety and security of my home. I needed to stop being so
trusting and start seeing danger. Sometimes people wanted to do you
harm. I could tell that was the case with Lymon Culpepper. I didn’t
know what he was about, but I didn’t trust him, not for a second.

I’d talk to Bill
about keeping Lymon off the property over the next couple of weeks.
And maybe I’d aim to pack up sooner rather than later. I had four
weeks until I had to vacate the property, but maybe I could wrap it
all up in two.