Reclaim: A Recovered Innocence Novel (20 page)

This book is dedicated to those yearning to breathe free who leave their homeland for a better life in a new land.

And as always to my husband, Mr. Y, for buying into and supporting every single one of my crazy Lucy and Ethel schemes…including the one where I thought I could write a book.

Some books are easier to write than others. This book wasn’t one of them. I jokingly refer to this book as the Octogon Book. It should be in the shape of an octogon instead of a rectangle because I wrote myself into so many corners, then had to find a way to write myself back out.

Thank you to the ladies of the Keeper Shelf who lifted me up when I fell down. And I fell down a lot during the time I wrote this book. I treasure each and every one of you more than you’ll ever know.

I’m lucky to have the best support system an author could have in my family, who willingly eat quick meals and takeout when I’m on deadline and who pick up the slack for me and make it easy for me to do what I do. To my boys who are patiently waiting for that pool…it’s coming. I promise.

Vindicate

Atone

Reclaim

Far from Honest
(coming soon)

PHOTO: SCOTT YARNALL

Bestselling author
B
ETH
Y
ARNALL
writes mysteries, romantic suspense novels, and the occasional hilarious tweet. A storyteller since her playground days, Yarnall remembers her friends asking her to make up stories of how the person “died” in the slumber-party game Light as a Feather, Stiff as a Board, so it’s little wonder she prefers writing stories in which people meet unfortunate ends. In middle school she discovered romance novels, which inspired her to write a spoof of soap operas for the school’s newspaper. She hasn’t stopped writing since.

For a number of years, Yarnall made her living as a hairstylist and makeup artist, and even owned a salon. Somehow hairstylists and salons seem to find their way into her stories. Beth lives with her husband, two sons, and their rescue dog in Southern California, where she is hard at work on her next novel.

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Looking for the next romance that’ll give you the feels? Our fantastic selection of books will definitely satisfy.

You’ve never read bedtime stories like the sensual forbidden fairy tales in Sharon Lynn Fisher’s Loveswept debut,
Before She Wakes
. And speaking of debuts, don’t miss
New York Times
bestselling author Kelly Elliott’s
Searching for Harmony
—a gut-wrenching story of a love that transcends all odds. Vonnie Davis’s
Her Survivor
welcomes readers to Wounded Warrior Falls where beating the odds is what it’s all about, while
Bound Beneath His Pain
kicks off a deeply sensual new series from Club Sin author Stacey Kennedy
.

Diana Quincy continues her Rebellious Brides series with a tale of forbidden love between a socialite and a scholar in
A License to Wed
. Wedding bells are ringing—and tempers are flaring—as Marquita Valentine’s Take the Fall series continues in the sweet and sexy
Hard to Fall.
The Brothers of Mayhem MC ride again in Carla Swafford’s explosive novel,
Full Heat
. Ashley Suzanne follows up
Raven
with the next round in her scorching Fight or Flight series,
Cutter
. The third book in Beth Yarnall’s Recovered Innocence series,
Reclaim,
is brimming with angst and sensuality. And don’t miss the next book in Stacey Lynn’s deeply emotional Fireside series,
His to Protect
. Or the story of a war hero fighting to remember the love he left behind in Serena Bell’s emotionally charged
To Have and to Hold
.

Then Shawntelle Madison’s seductive
Surrender to You
follows two career-oriented friends with benefits. And finally we have a cold case that leads to blazing-hot temptation in Kathy Clark’s romantic suspense
Almost Forever
.

Until next time ~Happy Romance!

Gina Wachtel

Associate Publisher

by Beth Yarnall

Brandi’s mouth was inches away from taking his cock when all hell broke loose and she jerked her head up to see what the commotion was. Two doors down at the mini-mart, Clark, the owner of the store, had a girl by the arm who kicked and clawed at him, screaming her head off. It was late, nearly one in the morning, and the mini-mart was supposed to be closed.

What the fuck was going on?

Ryder Lynch wasn’t in the mood to deal with this bullshit. After two weeks on the road he was looking forward to getting off, getting a beer, and getting some sleep in that order. Their last run had turned to shit and Ryder had to call in nearly every favor he was owed to get things back on track. Maybe he was getting too old for this bullshit. Maybe he should find some nice woman like Brandi to settle down with and take up woodworking or some shit.

Nah. Who was he kidding? He’d miss the burn of adrenaline pounding through his veins. Recklessness and danger was in his blood. Always had been. Always would be.

It was the reason he’d joined the Gods of Redemption and why—when it was offered to him—he’d taken the president’s gavel. Being in charge of a bunch of former Special Forces team members and ex-clandestine government agents, keeping them focused and
interested,
wasn’t easy, but it was all Ryder knew how to do. It was all he
wanted
to do. They might look like your everyday run of the mill motorcycle club, but they were far from it. MC’s weren’t government trained, they didn’t have the skills the Gods had, and they sure as shit didn’t carry out black ops for hire.

The girl at the mini-mart screamed again. The way she fought Clark she was either on something or out of her fucking mind. Ryder glanced down the deserted highway, hoping one of the other Gods was close enough to take care of that shit so Brandi could get back to what she was supposed to be doing—sucking his dick.

But his luck had been shit all week. Why should tonight be any different?

Either his brothers didn’t give a fuck what was happening or they were already balls deep in pussy and not looking to pull out.
He
should be balls deep in pussy, but Brandi only had a ten-minute break and she didn’t like fucking on the dark side of the building. Said it made her feel cheap. Blowjobs were another story though. Go figure. If she weren’t one of the least complicated, most creative lays available in this town he wouldn’t have bothered with her. It was her only condition of their arrangement so he didn’t mind obliging her. Most bitches hauled out a list of demands a mile fucking long before they’d even look at his cock. At least the ones who knew who and what he was in the tiny town of Divine, Arizona.

“What the hell’s going on down there?” Brandi asked.

“How the fuck should I know?”

“You going to take care of that?”

He gestured toward his hard cock. “You gonna take care of this?”

“Not with that bullshit going on. She’s gonna wake half the town and the last thing I want is for my husband to come down here and find me going down on you. I’d think that would be the last thing you’d want too.”

No shit. Her bastard husband was the town’s sheriff and Brandi was right. The
very
last thing he wanted to do was piss the prick off. Again.

“Fuuuuck.” He climbed off his motorcycle and stuffed his dick into his pants, which didn’t seem to want to go back in what with Brandi’s tits half hanging out of her tank top and the sensation of her fingers wrapped around him still fresh.
Fuck.

“You come back after closing and I’ll finish that off for you.” She nodded toward his crotch, then pointed down the highway where the girl had dropped to the ground—still screaming—trying to kick her way out of Clark’s grasp. “Take care of that shit first though.”

“Don’t tell me what the fuck to do,” he growled as he stalked off toward the mini-mart, leaving Brandi to walk herself back to the bar where she worked.

At first he thought it might be one of Link’s daughters so he pulled out his phone to call him to come get her and then he realized that the woman was a stranger. Strangers and Divine didn’t mix. Strangers didn’t stay and they sure as fuck didn’t flip the fuck out in the middle of the town at one
AM
. Whoever the cock-blocking bitch was she was in the wrong fucking place. Divine wasn’t your usual desert highway town. It only looked like it. Not even the residents knew how unusual their town was or the motorcycle club that ran it.

They weren’t supposed to know.

The girl managed to break free from Clark and bolted. Straight at Ryder. He caught her around the waist, spinning her, and tossed her onto the hard packed dirt. He had her face down with her hands behind her back before she even realized what she’d run into. Her struggling didn’t stop though. He had to put a knee across her legs just under her ass and a hand on her neck to control her. She went absolutely still then except for the horrible animalistic sound she made like a creature caught in a trap.

“Shut the fuck up,” he barked and she did.

Clark hobbled over and bent double, gripping his knees and breathing hard. “Little bitch.”

Little
wasn’t how Ryder would describe her. She was larger than she’d looked from far away with a big round ass and nice thick thighs. Not a girl. A woman. Her face was turned away so he couldn’t see what she looked like.

Clark stuck his arm out. “She bit me.”

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked Clark. “Who is she?”

“Not from around here.”

“No shit. Why were you fighting with her?”

“Broke into my store. The silent alarm went off. Usually I tell the company to ignore it because…well, you know. But just to be sure I drove down to have a look. Knew how you and your boys are when you come back into town. Didn’t want to bother one of you or come in tomorrow to find one of the Miller boys had tagged my store again. Found her filling bags with food.” Clark examined his arm in the meager streetlight. “Fights like a goddamn bear.”

“You never said nothing about the Miller boys.”

“Took care of it myself. What are you going to do with her?”

“Don’t know yet,” he said with a harsh laugh. “Depends on what she looks like when I turn her over.”

The woman stiffened. Who was she? What was she doing in Divine?

Clark wheezed out a chuckle. “You’re a sick son of a bitch, Ryder. She’s all yours. And good luck. I gotta go clean up my store before tomorrow. Put some peroxide on these bites.”

“Let me know what the damage is and I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Will do. Thanks.”

The only sounds on the highway after Clark left were the music from the bar and the woman’s harsh breaths. Running his gaze over her body, he debated what the fuck he was going to do with her. Nice ass. If the front of her was as good as the back he might see if she’d be willing to take up where Brandi had left off. He still had half an erection pressed against her hip that was quickly become two thirds.

“Who are you?” he asked her.

She didn’t answer.

“What are you doing here? Besides stealing food in the middle of the night.”

Nothing.

“I know your voice works. Half the town’s heard it.” He lifted her head up by her hair, turning her face toward him, but he couldn’t see her features in the anemic streetlight. “Well?”

More silence.

He twisted his hips, brushing his dick against her. “Maybe I don’t need to see the front of you. The back is pretty damn fine. Wouldn’t even have to turn you over. Just keep you face down the whole time.”

“Don’t.” Her voice was weak, but her fear was real. “
Please
don’t.”

“She talks.”

“You’re hurting me.”

“You’re not answering
me
.”

“I was hungry. Saw the store. I don’t know where I am.”

“Do you know your name?”

“Mercy.”

“What the fuck kind of name is Mercy?” He shook his head. “Never mind. I don’t give a shit. What are you doing here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know. How the fuck do you not know?”

“Could you let me up? You’re hurting me.”

“No. Not until you start saying something that makes some damn sense.” He glanced around at the empty highway and the darkened buildings. “Are you alone?”

She trembled. “Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t drop down out of the fucking sky.”

“When I woke up I started walking. Ended up here. Wherever here is. Please. Let me up.”

“You gonna start screaming and biting and kicking again?”

“No.”

He hauled her up by her arms. That’s when he noticed her bare feet and the mini-mart T-shirt over pants that fit her all wrong. What the fuck? She stole food
and
clothing? Something wasn’t right here.
An obvious observation asshole.
Naked, starving women didn’t appear out of nowhere in the fucking desert and break into convenience stores in the middle of his goddamned town in the middle of the goddamned night. He scanned the highway again. They needed to get off the street.

“Can you ride?” he asked.

“Like a bicycle?”

“Yeah, I pedal around town on a motherfucking Schwinn. A motorcycle. Can you ride on the back of my bike?”

“Where are you taking me?”

He still couldn’t see what she looked like. She kept her head down, her dark hair hanging in her face almost as though she didn’t want him to see her features.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered.

“What are you going to do to me?”

“Feed you and talk to you.” He started walking them to where he’d left his bike. “Do I need to tie you on so you don’t run off?”

She looked up at him through her dirty, stringy hair, but he still didn’t have a clear shot of her face. “Are you going to rape me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m not a fucking rapist. But I
was
about to get my dick sucked when you started screaming. You owe me a blowjob.” He glanced down at her tits bouncing around in that stupid store T-shirt. “Or a tit job. Don’t care which, but I don’t take anything that’s not freely given.”

“Are you a cop?”

“No.”

“Are you going to turn me in to the cops?”

“No.” The last thing he wanted was a run in with Sheriff Shithead. “Get on after me and don’t even think about disobeying. I’m
not
in a good mood.”

He threw a leg over his bike without waiting for her response. She climbed on behind him and he showed her where to put her feet before bringing the beast to life. He loved that first roar of the engine and the way it rumbled between his thighs. Like having a woman on her knees in front of him, humming as she sucked him off. He adjusted the crotch of his jeans and pulled out onto the highway. Her grip around him—tentative at first—became viselike when he leaned the bike into a turn. He liked the way she felt pressed up against the back of him all soft. It had been a long damn time since he’d spent any amount of time with a woman mashed up against him. What he and Brandi had didn’t extend past getting each other off.

There was only one place to take Mercy and he hoped like hell Jet wasn’t already there. He didn’t feel like dealing with her cranky ass on top of whatever the deal was with the chick on the back of his bike. Although, if Jet was with Slip he would be useful in helping him figure out who the woman on the back of his bike really was. Slip had a knack for that—finding out about people and finding people who didn’t want to be found. He’d bet his left nut this Mercy chick—or whatever the hell her name was—was running from something or someone. Or maybe she just wanted him to believe that. Still this was an extreme way to set up a ruse if that’s what this shit was.

Mercy wasn’t sure why she’d climbed onto the back of Ryder’s—if that was his real name—bike. He wasn’t safe. If she hadn’t known it by the way he’d pinned her down and ground his erection against her, she sure as hell knew it by the way the storeowner had deferred to him instead of calling the police. He wasn’t above the law. He apparently
was
the law. Regardless, she was safer taking her chances with him than with a real cop that was for sure.

She’d wandered the dark desert for what had felt like forever, wondering how in the world things had taken such a wrong turn. Pretty soon they’d figure out she’d escaped. How long would it be before they caught up to her? She shivered at the thought and snuggled closer to Ryder, the lesser of two evils. She didn’t know what she was getting with him, but it couldn’t be worse than what she’d run from.

He pulled the bike around the back of a cabin and cut the engine. She struggled to climb off. After walking most of the night and fighting with the storeowner she didn’t have much energy left. He made an annoyed noise at the back of his throat and helped her down, righting her when she tipped and nearly fell. Now that the adrenaline from the fight had worn off she was totally drained. If he tried to attack her she didn’t think she’d be able to put up much of a struggle. She was weak from not eating. She was sore and tired and on the edge of just giving up. More times than she wanted to admit she’d been tempted to just walk toward the hills instead of following the edge of the desert highway.

She couldn’t seem to stop shaking. Having gone way past fear over the past few days, she now lived in a state of hyper awareness. Noises were louder, smells stronger, light was brighter. Everything hurt. Her stomach had stopped aching from hunger days ago and she wondered if it had given up on food entirely and had started cannibalizing itself.

He helped her up the porch and into the cabin. He kicked the door closed with his booted foot and deposited her into a chair around a small table. A kitchen. Her stomach growled as he took sandwich makings out of the refrigerator. She guessed her stomach hadn’t given up after all. His dark gaze stayed locked on hers as he prepared her food. He didn’t trust her. That was very clear and very mutual.

She watched his compact movements with interest. No effort was wasted. He roamed the room with intent and purpose, much like the way he drove his bike. She didn’t know if his beard was intentional or convenient. She’d guess it was more of a convenience than anything else. He didn’t seem like the type to grow one for fashion. Which would also explain his wavy, shoulder length, ebony hair. Everything about him was dark from his black boots and worn-in jeans to the distressed black leather of his vest and T-shirt.