Chapter 2 Willa
Willa
I will not think about Dean Graham.
I will not think about Dean Graham.
Twelve years ago, I told myself this same mantra. It didn’t work then, so I don’t know why I expect it to now. But damn it, I refuse to let him burrow back under my skin. Especially after seeing the man he grew into, fully embracing the nickname that made him infamous in our small Texas town.
Chaos.
There’s no better word to describe a man who wreaks havoc on everything he comes into contact with—my heart included.
Not that I handled his any better.
Still, seeing him at the strip club was a punch of reality in comparison to the rumors I’ve heard over the years. Between his brother and the residents of Lanceleaf constantly talking about Dean, I thought I knew what to expect. That couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
Walking into Sapphire Rise, I saw the full force of who Dean Graham has become.
A man who disappeared and never looked back.
A man who joined the most dangerous motorcycle club on the West Coast.
A man who spent a year in prison—and it should have been longer.
And now, a man who is apparently running a strip club.
There’s absolutely nothing appealing about Dean’s life. He’s a walking red flag and everything a good girl’s dad warns her to stay away from growing up.
Yet, when I looked into his eyes, I still searched for the boy I met in a back alley at fifteen. I still hoped to see the parts of him he once showed me and no one else.
All I found was anger and indifference.
I slam my car door shut, grumbling as I adjust my skirt. There’s a fresh tear in my fishnets from where they snagged on the railing outside the strip club, and the hole is quickly growing.
I’m a mess.
At least I managed to keep it together until after I left Dean at the club. The last thing I need is him seeing what chaos I’ve become myself since he left town.
I don’t need his judgment.
Or worse, his sympathy.
Not when he’s clearly living his life to the fullest. A mess of recklessness. Surrounded by a good time. Thinking back, I suppose those qualities are what his life has always been. It’s why I couldn’t have chosen him years ago, even if I wanted to.
Dean’s life is the perfect example of everything that always stood between us, and I hate it.
I climb the stairs at the side of the motel. Metal creaks under my boots like at any moment the rusted hinges might snap. I stop at the second level where my room sits, balancing a bag of road-trip snacks in my arm while I fish out my room key.
What was I thinking coming here?
I could have emailed Dean the information I handed him in the envelope. It didn’t require me to make the trip in person. But I had to see him.
Just once.
I needed to know for myself what he’d become. And now, I have no choice but to put him and Las Vegas in the rearview mirror and move on with my life.
Two men lean on the railing a few doors down.
Smoke drifts through the air as one exhales a laugh.
I hate the smell of cigarettes, but more than that, I hate who they remind me of.
The two men skim me over as I wrestle with my things and unlock my door.
They don’t bother offering to help, blatantly sweeping over me instead.
Which is why I flip them off when one of them whistles at me.
Before he has time to lift off the railing, I hurry into my musty motel room, shutting the door and locking it. It’s not that I want trouble. Sometimes, I just can’t help it.
I set my groceries on the table inside, securing the dead bolt. Through the thin walls, I hear the guys laugh and then disappear into their own room.
It’s dark with my curtains pulled tight, so I take a shallow breath, centering myself. Dusty air clings to my lungs. The scent of stale cigarettes lingers, and I know when I flick on the light, I’ll be met with stained furniture and peeling wallpaper.
This place is a shithole, but I didn’t have a lot of choices with my budget.
It’s not that I don’t have money. I just don’t have my own money. Kincaid’s credit card sits in my wallet, unused. My father’s as well. I’m tired of depending on them. More than that, I’m worried they’ll track me to Vegas the second I use them.
I don’t need them knowing where I went. Or knowing I saw him.
Closing my eyes, I try to make sense of what got me into this mess. I’ve made so many mistakes at this point in my life; there’s no going back to the beginning and unraveling it all.
“You’ve got this. They don’t control you. You’ve got this,” I mumble it a few times, but it doesn’t sink in as I flick on the light.
With a final nod of reassurance to myself, I spin around. Only to realize, I’m not alone.
“Still into all that mantra shit?” Dean smirks from where he’s casually sitting in a chair in the corner of my room.
“Fuck.” I slap a hand over my heart as I back into the door. “How did you get in here?”
Better yet, why is he here?
Dean grabs the arms of the chair and slowly stands. Everything about him is the picture of composure. His expression is calm, masking anything he might be thinking. His dark eyes are so intense I can’t look away.
I’d like to think the fact that he’s now rough around the edges is a turnoff.
But it’s the opposite. Dean was always gorgeous in a way that was trouble.
But now, with his leather cut hanging on his sculpted shoulders, faint scars peppering his neck and arms, he’s undeniably attractive and a flashing warning sign.
His dark hair is messy in that way that makes me want to grab it while shoving his face between my legs. And his dark eyes are so focused they haunt me.
We’ve never fucked—never so much as kissed. Simply looking at him too long would have gotten me into deep shit with my father. But that didn’t stop me from picturing the possibilities a thousand times over the years. Even if that was sure to send me to hell since I was his brother’s girl.
Dean steps forward, and I swear he reads my thoughts as amusement plays in his eyes. The ego of this man is ridiculous but, I suppose, warranted.
I roll my shoulders back, pretending I’m unaffected. “Are you going to answer my question?”
“How do you think I got in?” His eyebrow lifts. “Have you seen the locks on this place? Why the fuck are you staying in this shithole?”
“That’s none of your business.” I jut my chin up.
He crosses his arms over his chest, smirking like he enjoys drawing out my attitude. His shoulders are broader than I remember, his eyes darker.
I open my mouth to tell him off when another man turns the corner out of the bathroom, surprising me.
“At least the toilet works,” he says with a grin.
His patch says Soul, and it’s weirdly fitting when he seems to see straight through to mine. Soul’s green eyes are so bright they’re mesmerizing, and his dark-blond hair is perfectly styled. But it’s his smile that has my attention. More calculating than playful. A cool chill runs my spine.
Dean looks over his shoulder at Soul. “Did you seriously just take a shit in her bathroom?”
“Took a piss. Chill out.” Soul grins, stepping forward and slipping on a charming mask that carefully hides the darkness that played in his eyes a moment ago. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
“None of your fucking business.” I narrow my eyes, refusing to give him my hand when he reaches for it.
Maybe I shouldn’t piss off someone wearing a patch meant to convey the fact that he’s lethal, but Soul bursts out laughing, so I don’t take it back.
“Got it,” Soul says, slapping Dean on the shoulder. “I’ll wait outside. Have fun with this one.”
Dean nods, not taking his eyes off me as Soul leaves us. It isn’t until the door clicks behind him that Dean relaxes his arms and starts pacing.
“Why are you here?” I strip off my jacket and toss it aside.
Dean’s eyes roam over me, but he doesn’t gawk like the men outside. It’s like he’s assessing a threat or trying to figure me out.
I grab a hair tie and wrangle my strands into a ponytail, watching Dean through the mirror.
“So, you and my brother ended it?” He steps closer.
“Yeah. What does that have to do with you being in my room?” I turn toward him, all sharp words and cold defenses.
They’re all I have to distract myself from the fact that I’m alone with him, and the last time we were like this, I made the wrong decision. A decision that ruined everything.
“Why the fuck do you think I’m here, Willa?” All levity has left his tone.
He’s angry. But beneath that, defeated, and it draws out my guilt. After all these years, I figured Dean didn’t care about me anymore.
Was I wrong?
Dean reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the envelope I handed him. When he slaps it onto the table, my heart sinks. Of course he isn’t here for me. It was ridiculous to think that. Dean is in my motel room because of the information I gave him.
“It’s a list of all the investors your brother is talking to,” I say, masking the hurt. “I figured it was self-explanatory.”
“I know what the fuck this list is, Willa. I want to know why you brought it to me.”
“Because you might be able to actually do something with it?”
He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “So that’s it? You expect me to believe that you and my brother broke up, and you’re here for revenge? You think I’ll be the bad guy for you, like I always was, and will want to help you solve your problems? You think I give a shit about helping you anymore?”
Each word stings more than the last, but I don’t blame him.
“No. I already know you don’t give a shit about me anymore, Dean. But I figured if you wanted a shot at saving your grandfather’s land, the least I could do was help.”
“The least you could do…” He trails off, tipping his head back and laughing with more anger than amusement. When his eyes meet mine again, they’re on fire. “I haven’t seen you for twelve fucking years, Willa.”
“I know.” It comes out quieter than I expect, my resolve faltering.
I know exactly how long it’s been. Twelve painfully long years. And even if Dean looks a lot like he did back then, he’s so much colder now. Angrier. There are walls that didn’t exist all those years ago, shutting me out.
“Why do you care who wins the ranch?” he asks, shoving the envelope farther across the table before crossing his arms over his chest. “What does it matter to you which one of us gets it? Did my brother really piss you off that bad?”
“Piss me off?” Rage coils inside me as I take a step forward. “Something like that.”
“What did he do?”
“Besides screwing every female who smiled at him over the course of our relationship?”
“He what?” Dean’s jaw tenses.
“You know what, it doesn’t matter.” I wave my hands and shake my head.
Because it really doesn’t. Kincaid has always been an arrogant playboy with a wandering eye. I knew what I was getting into with him. Love was never the catalyst in our relationship; we were just good at playing our parts. The good girl and the golden boy, bringing our families together.
Still, part of me thought we’d give it a shot. Obligation or not. Only, we weren’t on the same page.
I just wish it hadn’t surprised me the first time he cheated. That it didn’t sting a little. After that, I grew a thicker skin. After all, I deserved it. I built the cage I was trapped in.
“He cheated on you?” Dean says, like his brain is still trying to catch up with what I said.
“Don’t worry, it didn’t offend me.” I roll my shoulders back. “And stop acting like you care. You know how he is. I knew how he was. That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is?”
How do I answer that question when I promised myself I wasn’t here for that? “You know what, never mind. I don’t need your help.”
I step forward and reach for the envelope, but Dean snags my wrist, stopping me. In one swift move, he starts to pull me toward him, and self-preservation kicks in. I twist my arm to slip my wrist from his grip, grabbing his next. With a quick turn, I have his arm pinned behind his back.
“You forget I wrangle cattle, Dean Graham. It’s not that much harder to wrangle you.”
“Is that so?” The promise in his voice is intoxicating.
Before I can think, he rotates his wrist and pops it free.
One hand snags mine, spinning me so swiftly we could be dancing.
Until he’s rotated me in a full circle, pinning my chest to the wall with my arms behind my back.
We’re both breathing hard, and this close, I smell leather and oak and tobacco.
I smell Dean.
“I’m the one who wrangles feisty things around here, Willa. I’m happy to remind you if you’d like.” His voice is low in my ear, and with how hard he presses against me, my mind swims.
“What do you want, Dean?”
“Right now, lots of things.” He chuckles, grazing his fingers over the hole in my fishnets, setting my skin on fire. “But I’m more interested in what you’re pretending to need from me.”
“I’m not pretending to need anything.”
“Liar.” He presses hard against me, and my head fogs. “How do I know my brother didn’t send you here to fuck with me? As far as I know, you two are still together, and this is all just a scheme to figure out what I’m up to.”
“It’s not,” I seethe.
“So you say. But I’ve fallen for your lies before.”
“I—”
“Don’t.” He cuts me off. “I don’t want excuses, and I sure as shit don’t want to revisit the past. All I want from you is the truth.”
If it were anyone but Dean, I’d lie, but he knows me too well. He’ll hear it in my voice. I press my lips together, refusing to say anything.
“That’s what I thought.” He shoves off me, and I can finally breathe.
But when I turn, he’s still standing right in front of me, making it impossible to think.
“This was a mistake.” My voice is nearly a whisper. “I should leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere, princess.” My old nickname slips out so easily that it’s confusing. “Not until I’ve figured out why you’re really here.”
“You can’t—” I don’t get the chance to finish my argument.
A gunshot sounds.
Glass shatters.
Somewhere, someone screams.
Without blinking, Dean throws himself over me, and chaos unleashes.