Bad Boy Billionaire: F#cking Jerk 3 (8 page)

“Ready?” Harper shouted. She was outside, on the front porch, pacing back and forth, anxious to hit the road early. We had roughly nine hundred miles ahead of us. And she wanted to get at least half of them done today.

“Almost!” I called out as I smoothed my hand over the folded letter I’d left on Clay’s bed.

I couldn’t believe I was leaving, even for only a week or so. Since arriving, I’d figured I’d be living in Dawson for at least five years. I’d actually grown comfortable with that plan. Now…? Everything was up in the air. My inheritance. My future. And, most of all, my relationship with Clay.

I couldn’t leave him wondering where I’d gone or why. Thus the letter. And its placement, on top of the sales contact for my ranch.

Even though I wasn’t making a permanent decision yet, I still felt awful. A part of me felt defeated. I’d lost the ranch so quickly. Was my luck that bad--that I’d failed so fast? Or was I just a really,
really
bad business owner? I hoped (and yes, prayed) that my future efforts wouldn’t fail so miserably.

And then there was this thing with Clay. Early on I’d sabotaged our relationship with my inability—no, unwillingness—to trust him. I’d vowed to work on trusting him more. But now I wondered if that had been a stupid move. Maybe there was a reason why I shouldn’t trust him.

Then again, maybe, once again, I was jumping to some kind of crazy conclusion when I shouldn’t. I’d done my share of that recently. But even Harper hadn’t been able to tell me I was off my rocker this time. No, she’d reaffirmed what I’d concluded. Clay had taken possession of the ranch. And he’d sold it. Already.

My heart was brittle, and every time I closed my eyes I pictured Clay’s face. I heard him say, “Trust me. I love you.” And little pieces of my heart broke off, crumbling to dust.

Hollow. I felt hollow. And cold. And eerily calm. I wasn’t angry anymore. Or hurt. I just felt empty.

I took one last look around Clay’s mansion as I made my way to Harper. Her car was running in the driveway. Unlike my junker, it would get us to California. I slipped into the passenger seat next to her and buckled in.

And off we drove. South.

Out of BFE Nowhere, Wyoming.

A few hours later we parked outside a dusty old family diner in southwest Wyoming. My stomach was so empty it was digesting itself. But I was broke until the insurance money came in. Until then I was relying upon my (very generous) bestie to feed me. And so I would go light on the food. I would never take her generosity for granted.

Inside, she claimed an empty table while I made a beeline for the bathroom. I’d learned one thing about traveling through Wyoming: when one found a bathroom, it was extremely wise to use it. We had traveled for
hours
before stumbling upon this place. My bladder was about to explode. I didn’t even care that this dump looked like a filthy public restroom in a truck stop.

I locked myself inside a stall and coated the grimy toilet seat with at least a half roll of TP before daring to sit. Outside the little stall, I heard the bathroom door thump shut and footsteps. No doubt it was Harper, taking care of the essentials too. I was so glad she had suggested this little trip. Already I was starting to feel better—less bogged down and stressed. I was breathing easier. Smiling easier. Just relaxing and enjoying the little things—like singing to our fave tunes on the radio. At the top of our lungs—because what other way was there to sing Adele’s “Hello”? Adele we weren’t, but we didn’t care.

After taking care of business, I nudged my makeshift seat cover into the toilet with my toe, flushed and pushed open the door. The instant I stepped out, I was jumped from behind. By someone big. And strong.

It wasn’t Harper.

One anaconda-like arm wrapped around my waist while a hand slammed over my mouth, instantly muffling my shriek of shock. Terror knifed through me, sharp and cold as ice blades. I threw my body from side to side. I kicked my feet. I slammed my head backward, smacking it into concrete. But despite all my fighting, I found myself hauled outside the restaurant through a side door I hadn’t noticed before. A truck stood idling, waiting for my kidnapper to throw me in.

Oh God. If he succeeded…

I could be…

Oh God!

A million thoughts raced through my mind. I was blind with fear. The world around me was a blur as my sole focus became survival. I fought with everything I had. Until my muscles literally stopped moving.

It didn’t work. I was stuffed into the truck. And before I could scramble out, a huge body blocked my exit.

I screamed as loud as I could, the sound tearing my throat to shreds.

Then a face popped into my field of vision.

I knew that face!

My heart jumped.

“Clay! What the hell? You scared me to death!”

“I tried to tell you it was me, but you weren’t listening.”

“Hello, I was fighting for my freaking life!” My hands trembled as I lifted them to smooth my tussled hair out of my face. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking you home.” He leaned close, reached past me, and grabbed my seatbelt, pulling it across my chest.

I grabbed his hand as he pushed the metal plate into the clasp. “Wait! Stop!”

“No.” He slammed the passenger door.

“Clay.” I smacked the window. “I said stop!” I unbuckled and jerked on the door handle. How could I not recognize this truck? The fucking door!

Unfazed and irritatingly determined, Clay fastened his seatbelt and shifted the truck into gear.

I yanked on the door handle again and cursed. “Why don’t you get this fucking door fixed?”

“I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.”

I turned back, peering through the rear window. “But Harper—“

“She’s fine. Mike’s with her. He’ll tell her what’s going on,” he explained as he steered his stupid truck back on the road

I flopped my hands onto my lap at glared at him. I was pissed! Angrier than I’ve ever been in my life. I wanted to smack him. To punch him. To kick the shit out of him. “You have no right to go all caveman and haul me off against my will. It was just a road trip. I was coming back!”

“Were you?”

“Of course I was,” I said. I sounded sure. But I didn’t feel sure. In fact, I was pretty sure I wasn’t coming back. If Harper was hired by the agent, and if I’d been able to find a job—
any
job—in LA.

“Liar.”

Ha! That was funny, him calling me that. “I’m…okay, maybe I’m a liar. But so are you. You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met!” I stabbed my finger at his big, brawny shoulder. “You’ve been lying to me ever since we met! And you expect me to trust you?” I let out a sarcastic hardy-har-har. “Puleez.”

“I have not been lying to you. Not once. Name one lie I’ve told you.”

“You told me you didn’t want my ranch. That’s one. A biggie.”

“I don’t want your ranch,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Oh, yeah?” I snapped. Then I realized I was probably wrong about that one. “Okay, maybe you don’t want it. You sold it already. You just wanted to dump it and keep the money!”

“That’s not what I was doing,” he said, his expression and voice calm despite my ranting.

“Oh? Why don’t you explain it to me then?” I rolled my eyes. “I can’t wait to watch you try to dig your way out of this.”

“I don’t need to dig my way out of anything.” He steered the truck off the road and shifted it into park.

Yes! Now was my chance. If I could get out of this damn truck, I could make a run for it. All I had to do was push my way past two hundred pounds of man…

And go…

Where?

I looked out the window.

Fuck. Where was the restaurant? I couldn’t see it anymore. How had we gone so far already?

Dammit! I couldn’t outrun Clay. And there was nowhere to hide. We were surrounded by miles of flat, empty, dry land. There were no trees. No buildings. Nothing. Just empty pasture.

“Are we ever going to get over this?” he grumbled, sounding annoyed as he climbed out of the truck.

He was annoyed?
He
was annoyed?

I
didn’t kidnap him.

I
didn’t steal his property and sell it behind his back.

I
didn’t pretend to love him so I could pad my fucking bank account.

He opened the door for me as I was scrambling toward the driver’s side.

As I slid out of the passenger seat, I jerked up my chin. “No. We aren’t going to get over this. So how about you take me back to Harper? I’ll call her. She’ll meet us.”

“No.”

“No?” I arched a brow. My fingers clenched into fists. “Yes.”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I told you before. I’m not letting you go. You’re mine. So until you’re ready to come with me, and give up the crazy idea of leaving, we are going to sit here and talk.”

I slumped against the bumper of his stupid truck and crossed my arms over my chest. “Just what is there to talk about? Are you giving me back my fucking ranch?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “No. Not exactly.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. “What does that mean, ‘not exactly’?” I made air quotes.

“It’s a little complicated.”

“Not a problem. You have all the time in the world to explain. Because evidently you have nothing better to do than to hold me hostage. Freaking stalker. That’s what you are.”

The corners of his mouth twitched.

Bastard thought this was funny? It wasn’t funny.

“Start talking or I’m going to start walking,” I threatened, hooking my thumb over my shoulder.

He gave me the surrender sign, both hands lifted. “I’m getting to the point.” He inhaled deeply. “After the fire, Hardin contacted me about Silver Sage. He told me that he had to activate the surrender clause, moving the property from you to me. I told him it didn’t have to be done, that you could still operate the ranch without the house, but he said he was obligated to follow your aunt’s will and loss of any portion of the property under suspicious circumstances, in addition to the mounting debt the ranch had already incurred, were causes for immediate termination of your contract.”

“How convenient for you,” I informed him with a shake of the head. “Since it was your fucking sister who burned it down. You know what? I don’t care anymore. It was probably only a matter of time anyway. I didn’t know what I was doing. The ranch was in trouble. There was no way I was going to turn it around.” Feigning indifference, I tossed a hand. “All the more reason to let me go to California with Harper. I can start over. Doing what I’ve always wanted to do-- educate and help young women. My dream was never to run a ranch.” I slumped onto the truck’s banged up bumper and crossed my arms. “I was mad at you. But now that I think about it, you’ve done me a favor. I’m free now. Free of an obligation I never wanted.” I stood and turned my back to him, intent on getting back in the truck and catching up to Harper and Mike. “Best of luck to you.”

“No.” He caught my shoulders and swiveled me around to face him. “You aren’t going to do this to me.”

“Do
what
to you?”

“You aren’t going to pretend none of it matters… that we don’t matter.”

Shit. My gaze took in Clay’s tense features before finding his eyes. Eyes full of raw, genuine emotion.

I couldn’t stay angry with this man. It was impossible. Not seeing the vulnerability glimmering in those eyes of his. “Clay, I don’t know what matters anymore.” I scrubbed my face with my palms. “I’m tired. So tired. Ever since I drove into Dawson my life has been one disaster after another. Maybe things will get better when I leave…”

His grip on my upper arms tightened. “Disaster? Is that what we are?”

I couldn’t answer his question. Were we? Weren’t we? As hard as I’d tried, I couldn’t trust him. I was hurting him. I knew that. But I couldn’t help it.

I was scared. And he wasn’t helping me feel safe.

If only he’d been honest and told me about the ranch the minute he’d heard from Hardin. “Clay…”

He smashed his mouth over mine, cutting me off.

His tongue slipped between my lips and took charge, flaying against mine.

I slammed my hands against his chest and fought to break free. But he wasn’t going to let me go. Not yet. I pushed a second time but he only tightened his hold on my upper arms.

I felt him moving. My ass hit the bumper. Then I felt myself easing back until I was reclined against his truck’s front end. With any luck a police cruiser would come by and arrest him…before my body decided it liked what he was doing to me. I rocked my head to the side, trying to break the kiss. But that didn’t work either.

His mouth still sealed over mine, he released one of my arms to hold my chin in place. Now there was no escape. None. His hips wedged between my legs, and the thick bulge in his pants ground against my lower belly. He was hard. And my body appreciated that.

My mind did not.

I writhed but that only made things worse. Now little pulses of erotic heat were rippling through my body, and my tongue was dancing with his, stroking, twirling, flicking. He broke the seal to scatter kisses over my jaw.

“Clay, dammit,” I mumbled.

“I’m done talking,” Clay said against my neck. The vibration of his voice made goose bumps spring up all over my upper body.

“But we need to talk.”

“No, we talk too much. Shut up.” He nipped my neck then cupped a hand over my breast.

“Clay!”

He pinched my nipple through my clothes and I yelped in shock. “I’ve been too fucking nice to you. That’s the problem.”

No, he had that wrong! He hadn’t been too nice. He’d been sneaky. He’d kept secrets. Hid things from me. I couldn’t trust him. How could he say he’d been too nice? “That’s bullshit.”

He leaned back and grinned, grabbing a fist full of my shirt. “Is it?” He jerked it up, revealing my bra. His hungry gaze swept over my face then slid to my breasts that were, yes, heaving. Because I was gasping frantically for air.

“Clay!” I clawed at his hands, trying to pull them down, to cover myself.