Page 3 of Riding Wicked

“I mean it, Oakley. You saw what your mother did. You don’t think you have the same sensibilities? You carry her blood.” He laughs and another piece of my heart shatters out onto the porch. I wonder if I crawled around collecting all the shards, I could put myself back together.

At this point, I doubt it.

I clear my throat and stand from the porch. I’d come out for an escape, and this isn’t it.

His hand grips my arm, inflaming the bruise he’d made earlier in the day. “Be ready to go at seven in the morning. These people are trading good land to me for that baby.” The way he speaks of my son like a trading card makes me sick, but I know without a shadow of a doubt that any life my son has away from my father will be better than the life he’d have with me.

The couple that’s adopting him own neighboring land. My father has been trying to get it from them for years. Fortunately for him, he discovered a way to exploit them, too. He found out that they’ve struggled with infertility for years and all their money is tied up in their land. He’s preying on a basic, biological need to get what he wants.

My stomach turns.

After the adoption, the family is moving to a ranch up in Wyoming. It’s better this way. Everything is. But as much as I know doing what’s right helps my son, it doesn’t help me sleep at night. In the quiet hours, I have fantasies where I run off and disappear without a trace. Sometimes, I go back to Rugged Mountain, and I imagine myself living out a life with Knight. Believe me, I know how ridiculous that sounds given the fact that we barely spoke the entire time I was there, but there was something about him. He was always around, like a presence. You could see that he was watching me at all times… not that I’m complaining. Having an enormous man around that’s easy on the eyes is always welcome.

I shake the daydream free from my head and flinch away from my father, nodding in approval of his request for a morning meeting. The visit is only an ultrasound and I need it done anyway. I still have time to think the details through.

With my father looking pleased at my concession, I blow out a heavy breath and head back inside to grab a book off the shelf in the sitting room. I’ll pretend to read until he’s asleep. Then I’ll go down to the horse barn and talk to the animals like I have most every night of my life.

Zilly, a seven-year-old German Shepard is the best listener. She’s supposed to be guarding the ranch, but she sits by the horses and listens to me ramble on about life as I scratch between her ears and feed her bits of cheese I swipe from the kitchen.

The porch door slams shut, and my father locks up for the evening. “Maybe when you’re done with this whole baby ordeal, I can set you up with one of my friends. Taylor Evans is looking for a bride. He could take care of you for life, you know? You wouldn’t need to be here, listening to my bullshit.”

I should nod and continue with my reading of the encyclopedia of Greece, but I make the mistake of replying. “I don’t need help dating. Thanks.”

“You obviously do. You were seeing that asshole Johnathan.” Johnathan owed the biggest ranch in Amarillo, and he won out on more than one land deal my father wanted. I should’ve known he’d be an asshole too, but I guess the familiarity of his actions comforted me in a‘I need therapy’kind of way.

“Johnathan was a mistake. I—”

“I’d say he was.” My father laughs. “That’s why I should set you up.”

“Yeah…” I blow out a breath of exhaustion as he starts to tighten his face.

“You’re getting smart with me, girl, but Taylor could set you up real nice.” He climbs the wooden stairs toward his bedroom. “Seven. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

I follow his frame as he ascends the steps one by one and turns the corner into his bedroom. The good thing about him is that once he’s upstairs, he won’t come out for the night. Between the television and his CPAP machine, he’s dead to the world. Unless… the dogs start barking. His brain is wired to jump at their alert, but that almost never happens. They don’t bark unless something is array. Even then, they’d have to be feeling threatened to alert, and most folks know better than to mess around this ranch.

The second my father is locked away, my stomach unclenches, and I swear even the baby begins moving more freely. I hold my hand over my belly and use the other to push up from the couch to make my way outside. It’s at this time of night that I start to feel thankful for small things about my father. The first being his lack of education when it comes to technology. He’s so protective of this ranch, but he’s convinced himself that anyone can hack security cameras, so he avoids them at all costs. These nighttime walks are the only freedom I get from him.

This time of night, mosquitos buzz freely, frogs croak, and crickets rustle in the distance. It rained last night, and the earth is still damp. My feet sink into the mud as I move, but I love the way the squish feels between my toes.

The barn stands a few hundred feet away from the house with tall double doors and a horse emblem displayed above. Huffing breaths and the swish of a tail sings behind the walls. I may not like my father, but I love the ranch. I always have. The prickly, sweet-smelling timothy hay, the muffled thump of hooves, the slosh of water, the cry of an eagle as he passes over head. The land is perfection.

I round the corner and pull open the barn doors, wondering why none of the dogs have come to greet me. Usually, they hear the back door open and follow me to the barn every night. I never feel unsafe here, not with my father in bed, but the dogs do keep me company.

Maybe one of the ranch hands locked them up in the barn by accident before they left. I slide open the door, flick on the light and jump back, holding my stomach as I scream a loud, blood-curdling scream.

All six dogs are sitting perfectly obedient and they’re staring at a man I haven’t seen in weeks.

Chapter Four

Knight

My intention wasn’t to scare Oakley, but judging by the look on her face, that’s what I’ve done. Her brows lift and she holds her expanded stomach. She’s beautiful as ever, glowing even.

“Um, hey…” Her tone rises and falls as though confusion has taken over. “What’s up?”

I toss another piece of steak toward the dogs and glance back up at Oakley. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Her tone drops as she says, “You’ve got the dogs answering to you like circus animals and you’re about ten hours from home. I think you know what you’re doing.”

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