Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (16 page)

Instead, he calmly strode to the motel. Inside his room, the maids had tidied the bed and even piled his discarded clothes on top of the cheap laminate dresser. He glared around the space, hating the lumpy wallpaper and the striped bedspread. He wanted his ranch, the smell of horses.

He wanted Claire.

“Fuck.” He ripped off his cowboy hat and threw it to the floor, then jammed his fingers through the long strands of his hair. Since Heather had died, everything in his life had been on a downward spiral.

Hell, even his ranch was jeopardized by his own family and the coal mining greed. And Christian and Claire were there, unaware of the trouble.

He snatched up his cell and jabbed a number to connect with Christian. Usually a touch of that button summoned the man to his house to play cocks, and even as the phone trilled in his ear, he grew hard.

It rang four times. Five. Went to voicemail .

“Dammit!” He tossed the phone to the bed hard enough to bounce.

His cock was aching, straining for release. In a violent motion, he ripped open his belt and popped the button and zipper of his jeans. He slid the mass partway down his hips before freeing his shaft.

The ridges pulsed in his hand. He lashed his sac to his body and started pumping his erection with his other hand. A quiver of sensation tore through him as he rolled the swollen head through his grip. Pressing open the tight slit that glistened with cream.

Imagining that it was Christian’s cock he stared at, he ran a finger between his balls, low, just as his friend love to see. A moan echoed in the room at the memory of him doing exactly this thing and watching Christian’s eyes roll back in his head.

Jerking his hips, Tucker slid his thick length through his palm, squeezing, releasing. Hot whips in his groin spurred him to move faster. A golden glow of ease was on the horizon, close but so far away.

Juices gathered on the tip as he stroked himself faster.
More. More. Fuck, yes, Christian.

In a violent spasm, he came. He tightened his hold on the head, letting the pressure build. When he released it, a spurt shot into the air.

He hissed with pleasure, letting come flow over his fingers, down his shaft, to pool around his cupped balls.

Stars sparked behind his eyes, along with a vision of Christian’s cock in Claire’s sweet mouth.

No Heather within a country mile of this moment.

Guilt flooded his veins, replacing every ounce of ecstasy. With a growl, he snagged a handful of tissue from the box on the dresser and cleaned himself up. Then he hurled himself into the mattress, tears burning his throat.

Heather, Claire, Christian. All wrapped up in his mind and tied with a tough little string that was Jake Mickelson’s words.
What if the best was you?

What if Claire really did need him and his staying away wasn’t actually going to help her in the long run, but carve more of her heart out?

She hid her pain behind smiles. When she talked about her father, she always wore a serene smile, but a burning in her eyes told more of the story.

Anger erupted in Tucker’s chest. Where did that son of a bitch Jake Mickelson get off talking to him about guilt and hurt? Every day he stayed away from his daughter planted one more seed of pain in her. Soon she’d sprout nothing but tangled vines of hurt, and they would obliterate the sunny disposition Tucker and so many others loved about her.

Rolling to his feet, Tucker looked for the wastepaper basket. He tossed the used tissue into it and went into the bathroom to clean up. He had a mind to go back to the bar and say his piece to that man.

In fact, that’s exactly what he’d do. Fighting for Claire right now seemed the only course.

By the time he strode across the parking lots, past the diner that boasted a special of the day sign for fresh cod—in a landlocked state—he was ready to do battle.

He shoved through the door of the bar, squinting at the dimness. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but it only took seconds for him to find that Mickelson wasn’t here.

From behind the bar, Jones opened his mouth to say something, but Tucker spun and left before the words were uttered.

Outside the door, Tucker jabbed a few buttons on his phone and in minutes had a cashier’s check wired to Christian. If he couldn’t be there to help out on the ranch, the least he could do was ease the monetary strain. Christian probably wasn’t even working right now and Claire couldn’t bring home much on a waitress’s salary.

Across the parking lots again, back to the room, where he found that he’d missed a call from Christian.

With a harsh noise in his throat, Tucker cradled the phone. He stared at the display with Christian’s number, hollow-bellied and aching but without any ability to give it voice.

Chapter Seven

The growl of ATV engines made Christian’s head snap up. He dropped the shovel he was using to even out a bit of churned earth in the paddock and started toward the sound.

There was no reason he should feel alarm bells gonging in his mind, but he was on high alert. Lengthening his strides, he looked around for Claire. She was several yards away, doting on Boom Boom. The animal preened under the brush Claire was using, extending its neck like a cat rubbed a palm.

Don’t blame you a bit, Boom Boom.

Claire looked up as he approached. A smile graced her lips even as a worry line took up residence between her long brows. “What is that? Hunters?”

“Nah, too early.” He had a gut instinct about who was coming right for the house, but he didn’t want to frighten her. If only she were working at the diner today, but dammit, she had wrangled another day off. The last time Tucker’s relatives had shown up uninvited, Claire had been on edge for days.

Christian would keep by her and make sure they didn’t bring her distress.

The black vehicles popped over the ridge like two hounds of hell. Christian scuffed a hand through the perspiration by his ear. “Come on, you sons of a bitches,” he said under his breath.

He walked out to meet the riders. Sure enough, it was Tucker’s uncle and cousin. They rode top-of-the-line ATVs, tricked out with winches and warm seats, shovels strapped to the back. Why they were carrying shovels was anyone’s guess.

Leon stopped abruptly and cut the engine of his four-wheeler.

Christian lowered his head and gave him a long, assessing look. Tucker’s cousin drew up beside his father and turned off the engine too.

“What can I help you gentlemen with this evening?”

Leon’s false grin widened. “A man who gets right to the point. I admire that, son.”

“I’m not your son.”

The smile turned wolfish. “I see I’m up against a loyal recruit of Tucker’s.”

Christian might have been forced into taking over the ranch for Tucker, but now he couldn’t imagine getting up in the morning and not going out to take care of the animals.

“What do you need?” Christian asked.

“Had word from Tucker the other day,” Dale said.

Christian’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach at the news. So Tucker couldn’t accept his or Claire’s calls, but he got in touch with these assholes?

From behind him, he felt Claire drift forward to stand at the fence corralling Boom Boom. He didn’t want to turn and see her expression.

“Yeah?” Christian tried to keep his tone nonchalant, but his heart was about to slam out of his chest. It beat heavily in his ears.

Leon stared at him. Did he detect the pitch and heave of Christian’s emotions? He felt as if he was riding a sharp wave down into blackened waters, never to resurface.

“Tucker and I have unfinished business. He left before he could sign a contract, and that bit of ink is holding up a large sum of money, which should have long ago been deposited into my bank account.”

“Mister, I don’t know anything about your money troubles. I’m here as a ranch hand until Tucker returns. Nothing more.” His gritty tone betrayed him.

Leon’s eyes sparked. “Are you able to get in touch with Tucker?”

“No,” Claire answered before Christian could.

Dale turned his lascivious gaze on Claire. His lip curled as he took in her curves and beauty. Christian’s muscles hardened, ready to pounce.
One word. Say one motherfucking word to her that’s out of line, and I’ll smash your teeth down your throat.

Christian shifted, trying to shield her from the guy’s view, but it was no good. He heard Claire’s boots hit the ground right behind him, indicating that she’d jumped the fence and stood in the yard with him.

“You’re operating this ranch without direction from the owner?” Leon pushed.

“We’ve got plenty of experience,” Christian challenged, though it was a total lie. “And when Tucker left, he gave us instruction. Look, we don’t want trouble. Whatever bone you’re fighting over with Tucker’s got nothing to do with us.”

Leon folded his arms. “You ever hear of a little company called Bradley Coal?”

“Yes.”

“Then you know that they lease out property in this area and pay the landowners for the rights to mine.”

“I don’t know firsthand, but whatever you say.” Christian wasn’t going to give an inch to this man. He’d dealt with way too many hotheads like him—men who manipulated and used aggression to bow people to their wills. No wonder Tucker wasn’t signing that contract. If Leon had his thumb on Tucker, he’d only jerk himself out from under it and go his own way.

“Listen, kid. We need to get hold of Tucker, and if you help us, there’s something in it for you.”

Christian reeled. A bribe, eh? Flash a fat wallet and Christian would hand over Tucker on a platter, complete with the trimmings, is that what Leon thought?

“We can’t—” Claire started, but Christian reached behind him and gripped her forearm. Her words cut off, and she let out a low breath. He squeezed lightly.

“We can’t force Tucker to get in touch with you. He knows where to find you if he wants you.”

“I see he may have told you to keep quiet. Well, no matter,” Leon said.

“We’ll take what we want,” Dale added. He stabbed a button that fired the engine of his four-wheeler. Leon took his son’s lead and in seconds, they had torn a circle in the turf and were riding hell-bent for the ridge.

Christian watched them until they were out of sight. Then he twisted to gather Claire into his arms.

“What kind of family is that—bribing us for information and to sell out Tucker?” She dropped her head to his chest.

He smoothed a hand over her curls and down her spine. She was as tense as a bomb defuser at a crowded mall. “You got your cell on you?”

She drew away from him, surprise crossing her glowing face. “Always do. Why?”

“Put a call in to Tucker. If we bombard him with calls and voicemails, eventually he’ll have to cave and call us back. Just don’t tell him about his family. We want to do that once we get him on the line.”

She caught her lip in her teeth and stepped away with her cell, as if she couldn’t touch Christian while thinking about Tucker. If he didn’t know better, he’d believe that. But as they made love, Tucker was there between them, always. The man’s spirit locked them together.

Christian gripped Boom Boom’s fence and stared at the animal as Claire made the call.

“Tucker, it’s Claire. Talk to us, please.” A pause from her that drove Christian over the edge with emotion. During the times Claire had called Tucker, how the hell could the man listen to the longing in her voice and ignore it? Just overhearing her now made Christian want to put his fist through the barn wall.

Selfish son of a bitch
.

“Christian and I really need you to call us back. There are things going on around here that we need to discuss with you.” She faltered. If Tucker didn’t hear that break in her voice and feel like the biggest horse patty on the planet, Christian would kick his ass until he did.

“Call us back. Today.” She ended the call and huffed out a long breath. When she plastered her body to Christian’s back, he turned to hold her.

“Are you going to make a call now too?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Later.” Tucker was going to get a piece of his mind—his protective hackles were up and the man was going to know it. There would be no pleases or thank yous. Just Christian telling his friend where his priorities lay, and to quit acting like a horse with a bruised foot that won’t stop running.

Claire moved out of his arms and climbed over the fence to be with Boom Boom again. The alpaca gave her a solace that Christian couldn’t always provide. When she was with the animal, Tucker was close in her mind. The moment when Christian had discovered her smashing in Tucker’s truck, he’d stepped between them. Even when Tucker had pulled Christian into bed with him and Claire, he’d been a barrier Tucker threw up to keep from showing too much emotion.

Claire strode to the alpaca’s shed, and the beast trotted at her heels. She reached onto a peg and pulled down a pink rhinestone leash. Clipping it onto Boom Boom’s neck, she crooned to the animal.

“Gonna take a walk and learn how to strut.”

A laugh burbled in Christian’s chest. “Strut, you say?”