Chapter 2
2
ALEC
T he weighted bag swung with each punch, absorbing the rage that had blanketed me in bitterness since arriving home two days prior. Left, left, right, right. For thirty minutes now I repeated the same sequence, tossing in a few uppercuts here and there. Each time my bare knuckles slammed into the red leather, I relished the burn of my now exhausted muscles.
Rivers of sweat slipped down my exposed back, dipping beneath the gym shorts hung low on my hips. In my private in-home gym, I wasn’t embarrassed to go shirtless. Here I could run around butt-ass naked if I wanted—and had once or twice before—without a single side-eye stare or question about the array of scars lining my back and upper thighs. With as much money as Mom left me, I could afford to have the scars removed, but I never would.
The crisscross patterns, long stripes of scarred flesh, tugged each time I moved, which served as a reminder of the monster lurking just beneath my skin—of the man I would become. Today, however, those scars dragged me down a dark memory lane, threatening to swallow me whole.
My roar drowned out the blaring music as I slammed one fist and then the other into the punching bag with as much force as I could muster, imagining my bastard of a father’s face instead of the swinging leather bag.
Fatigue tightened my muscles, slowing my swings and force. A weak punch sent my split and raw knuckles skimming over the sweat-slick covering. I stumbled forward with the missed impact, throwing off my stability. The smack of skin popped in my ear as my shoulder slammed into the bag, stopping me before I fell face-first to the sweat-dotted mat.
Chest heaving from physical and emotional exhaustion, I hugged the bag like a long-lost friend, allowing my trembling muscles a momentary reprieve. Minutes ticked by with me frozen in place, eyes shut as I struggled to forget. Forget my childhood, my loneliness, and the past several months in Orin.
They sentenced that bastard from Orin last week. The cult was disbanded, the gates locked. Everything worked out in the end. We offered those who were afraid, who needed to disappear, the option to do so. I helped them move, offered witness protection to those who testified against their leader, which gained them hate from those still loyal to that bastard. Even my spitfire friend Ellie found her happy ending with Peters.
So why was I so damn angry? Why couldn’t I get over the churning in my gut urging me to release my frustrations on anyone within arm’s reach? It’d been a long while since I let myself sink into this dark hole of self-pity, allowing it to tug my actions and thoughts into the dark too.
The few women and kids we liberated, their bruises, old and new wounds, and blank stares could have triggered this demanding relapse.
With an annoyed grunt at no one other than myself, I pushed off the bag and stalked out of the gym, snagging a fresh white towel off the shelf as I did. Bare feet slapped the polished dark hardwood floors, leaving sweaty footprints as I marched toward the kitchen. The soft cotton wicked up the sweat as I scrubbed it along my forehead and face. A grumble seemed to echo down the hall, my stomach telling me it was time to replenish all the calories I just beat out of my system.
The floor-to-ceiling windows greeted me as I entered the large kitchen, dining, and living area. I paused, giving myself a second to appreciate the acres of nothing except mesquite trees, rocks, and dirt. The sun burned through the windows, its harsh afternoon rays causing me to squint even with the tinted glass.
“Beautiful day.” I tore my unseeing gaze from the landscape to look over my shoulder toward the kind voice. Sherry smiled, her hands clasped in front of her crisp apron. That smile slipped a fraction when she took in the droplets of sweat littered along the floor.
Sherry had been with me for years now acting as my live-in cook, housekeeper, friend, mother hen—anything I needed. And sometimes exactly what I didn’t.
I grimaced and bent forward, swiping the damp towel along the floor to clean up the mess. “Sorry, Sher Sher,” I said. Apparently living with Agent Peters for a couple weeks and a few more on my own in that damn creepy religious rental turned me into a slob. “I’ll do a better job cleaning it up.” My stomach chose that moment to gurgle with hunger. “After a snack,” I said with a grin.
“You mean meal number four for the day,” she corrected with a smile of her own as she bustled about the kitchen. She loved my vivacious appetite for her cooking. “What will it be?”
“Any pasta?” My stomach growled at her confirming nod. “And to add on to our conversation earlier, I wasn’t out saving the world.”
“It was the world to those you saved.” I tracked her movements around the kitchen as she removed food from the fridge before bustling about selecting plates, silverware, and a cloth napkin. After placing a damp paper towel on top of the food, she slid the plate into the microwave and pressed a few buttons. “Never discredit what you do because you’re quick to dismiss the impact of your actions. There were kids in that hellhole. You saved them and those women who couldn’t have gotten free on their own. You did that, Alec Bronson. You.” For emphasis, she pointed the dinner knife at me.
I held up both hands in surrender. “I had a lot of help, Sher Sher.” She rolled her eyes at my term of endearment. She hated it, which was why I kept using it. “The FBI, Marshals, and….” I paused, my lips pressed in a thin line. “Wait a second. How do you know those details? I haven’t told you any specifics regarding the case.”
“The media loves a fanfare, you know that. A cult in the heart of our state was the biggest story of the year. They covered everything from the time you arrested that man till the end of his trial.” Her blonde brows rose. “You really didn’t know?”
Hard calluses scraped my forehead and cheeks as I tried to scrub the annoyance off my face. I should’ve known it would’ve been a media sensation, but considering I worked thirteen-hour days the last six months, I hadn’t noticed.
My nostrils flared as I inhaled deep, filling my lungs with the savory scents now heavy in the kitchen. A hum of excitement vibrated in my chest. No one should get this excited about food, but I always had. Being a bigger-than-normal guy came with the constant need to eat. The microwave’s high-pitched beep signaled the food was ready, causing saliva to collect in my mouth.
“What about those hours you put in helping move those who testified?” Sherry questioned as she pulled the steaming plate from the microwave and deposited it on the placemat. “How are they doing?”
“Ah hell,” I snapped, annoyance overpowering my hunger. “Is there nothing those vultures won’t cover? I moved them for their protection. If anyone finds out where….” I closed my eyes and took a calming breath. “Did they give details?”
“Calm down before you give yourself a stroke. They didn’t say who or where, just that Texas Ranger Alec Bronson led the charge on relocating those who feared for their lives after testifying against the leader. One article also stated you put a male cult member in the hospital for going after one kid.” Peeking up from the sink where she stood washing the dirty container, she wore a knowing smile. “Which I’m sure was completely exaggerated.”
“Sounds suspicious,” I said, humor lifting my tone. Whether it was her presence, the knowledge that my belly would soon be full, or the impromptu workout doing its job, I felt lighter than I had in days.
As much as I wanted to believe Sherry, I was far from the man she thought I was. A hero didn’t have a rage-filled monster lurking inside him, fighting every day for a way out. The curved edges of the fork pressed into my palm under my tightening grip.
“That’s for eating, not bending.”
Teeth clenched, I forced a smile and relaxed my grip, turning my attention back to the food. Each savory spice combined with the heat soothed the remaining jagged edges of my temper, easing the tension from my shoulders and neck.
“Damn, I missed you,” I said, my tone and features soft with adoration.
Sherry scoffed and popped the edge of a hand towel toward me. “You missed my cooking.”
“I can miss you both equally.”
“I know which you favor,” she said, wiping along the counter. “So what’s next? You back on the road soon?”
The fork rattled onto the now empty plate. I stared at the remaining sauce, debating licking it clean, but she stole it away, deciding for me. I hummed in approval and leaned back in the chair, hand absentmindedly rubbing my stomach.
Sherry watched with joy radiating in her dark eyes and wide smile. For a brief second, I allowed myself to remember another woman with the same bursting happiness about her. A girl I hadn’t seen in over two decades but thought about every now and again. She was my sunshine during those dark years with my father, my only channel of hope and good in the world.
“I’m taking a few days off,” I said, finally responding to Sherry. Taking the napkin, I wiped the corners of my mouth and tossed it to the placemat. “That case was….” I struggled to find the right words to depict how the cult case and incident involving Ellie affected me. “It got to me. I need some time to myself to shake off what’s lingering before I can move on.” Heels of both hands on the counter, I pushed back and stepped away from the bar. “I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
Now that Rae’s innocent, smiling face had flashed through my mind, it was all I could think about. Remembering the way she smelled, her soft skin, and kissable full lips. I hadn’t thought about my high school sweetheart—the only woman I ever really allowed myself to love—in years. The familiar ache of leaving her without an explanation crept into my chest.
I was finally losing my mind, the stress of it all finally taking its toll. Why else would the mere memory of Rae’s sparkling eyes and honest smile make my heart clench? Me losing my mind over the memory of a girl who probably moved on the day I left, unlike me, made sense.
For years I wanted to reach out to her, see if she missed me like I did her, but I couldn’t. I left for a reason: to keep her safe.
That reason still stood today.
Interlacing my fingers behind my head, I tilted my face up to the ceiling, looking for answers there. The only one was a waft of male stench. My stench. Turning my nose, I gave a tentative sniff and gagged.
Instead of heading into my office as planned, I turned into my master suite. Hooking both thumbs into the elastic waistband of my shorts, I gave a hard tug. Not missing a step, I let them fall to the floor and continued on to the large en suite bathroom. Cool slate stone tile greeted my bare feet, sending a shock up my legs at the sensation. My reflection flashed in the two mirrors hanging over the dual sinks as I marched for the freestanding shower.
I turned the chrome handle just enough to get the water flowing to the rainfall showerhead and then stepped under the freezing stream. The full spray battered against my skin, washing away the sweat, but it did nothing to the thoughts of Rae running on a loop through my mind.
Forearms to the tilted wall, I relaxed my neck as the water beat against my back. Only after all the sweat had rinsed down the drain and my dick and balls were nearly shriveled to the size of a newborns did I twist the handle. Hot water pelleted my chilled skin, soothing the tension in my muscles before slipping down the drain along with the suds from my shampoo and soap.
I shut off the water after a quick wash and stepped from the smooth river rock shower floor onto the tile. I gave a haphazard scrub of the towel over my longer hair—I really needed to schedule a haircut now that I’d decided to stay home for a while—and down my chest before the shrill of the office phone reached my ears. Water continued to stream down my legs as I wrapped the towel around my waist and hurried toward the office.
Stretching across the mahogany wood desk, I tapped the speaker button.
“Bronson,” I said, my voice gruff. If a call came in through this line, something bad happened in my territory. Only the dispatcher used this number. Dread weighed in my chest as I padded around the desk and sank into the oversized leather chair, its wheels rolling with my weight.
“Hey there, Alec.” I rolled my eyes at the sticky sweet voice. Pam didn’t hide her attraction, even after many obvious rejections from me. “How are you today?”
Lifting my hips, I tugged the towel out from under me and began drying my legs. “As good as can be.” Before I could tell her to get to the point, her chipper voice poured through the speaker once again.
“You know, I can always come out there and help you feel great.” I shook my head, my lip curled in disgust. This got old a long time ago. “Your place is only a few hours from headquarters.”
I rubbed the towel along my chest, down my abs, and then carefully dried my favorite body part. Even with me touching my cock, Pam’s suggestion of coming over did nothing to stir my dick into action. The leather squeaked as I adjusted my damp ass along the seat.
“Was there a reason you called, Pam?” I asked, putting some bite into my tone to shut down her advances. Again.
“A woman called for you.” I chose to not comment on the annoyance now filling her tone.
Sitting up straight, I looped the towel around my shoulders and held on to each end, my focus on the phone’s speaker. “One of the women we relocated?” I gave them my cell number; why would they call the station? “Are they okay? Did something happen?”
Pam’s huff filled the office, making me bite my tongue to not snap at her to hurry the fuck up. “No, this is a new one. She called asking for you specifically and won’t get off the line until we connect you to her. Desperate if you ask me.” She mumbled the last few words.
Towel forgotten, I gripped the edge of the desk and stood, towering over the phone. Teeth clenched, I somehow got out “Put her through, Pam.”
“Say please,” she retorted.
“Pam, if you don’t do it right the fuck now, I’ll report you for hindering Ranger business.” My temper flared with the rising annoyance and dread. Inhaling through my nose, I pushed it out slowly, hoping to keep from saying something that could get me reported.
The line went silent for a moment, signaling the call transfer. Seconds later, shouts filled my office, pouring through the speaker along with soft mumbled ramblings and curses.
I stared at the phone, curiosity now pushing the flare of anger aside.
“Ranger Bronson here,” I said, my voice booming so the caller could hear me over whatever ruckus continued in the background. “You asked for me?”
A sharp inhale indicated the caller heard me. “Alec?” said the unsure female voice. Intrigued, I leaned closer to the speaker, afraid the caller’s words would get lost in the noise. “Alec Bronson?”
“That’s me.”
A throat cleared, snapping my attention to the doorway. Sherry stood there with her lips in a tight line, holding a mop in one hand while the other rested on her hip. “Sorry,” I mouthed while snatching a folder to cover my dangling cock. That woman needed a raise to deal with my lazy ass, at least until I became house-trained again.
She waved me off and went back to cleaning up my trail of water from the shower.
“Are you there?” said the woman. “Alec?”
That inflection, the way she said my name, felt familiar. “I’m still here. Who is this?”
“You might not remember me. Actually, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t. I mean, it’s been years. Decades,” the woman rambled. “And we were just kids. Well, not really. We were almost legal,” she said around an awkward laugh.
My heart thundered in my chest. I knew this person, but I couldn’t pinpoint how. Whoever she was, my heart knew her.
“It’s, um… me,” she finished.
I smiled at the phone, not hiding my amusement even though I could feel Sherry’s fiery gaze no doubt curious about this strange interaction.
“And who would ‘me’ be?” I prodded. “I’ve known a lot of ‘mes’.”
“I’m sure you have,” she grumbled. “You always were the popular one. Hot to boot.” A smack of skin against skin made me chuckle. “Shit, I did not mean to say that.”
“Who is this?”
“Rae. Rae, um, with an e , not a y , Chapin. Chapin with a Ch , not a… well, I guess that’s the only way you’d spell it.”
A lead ball plummeted in my stomach. I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.
“Alec?” Her voice sounded panicked. “Shit, did you hang up?”
“I remember you, Rae.” A crash of metal and following shouts sent my heart leaping up my throat. Both hands tightened into fists, desperate to protect her from whatever shit show was happening around her. “Where are you? Are you in danger? Why are you calling?”
“I knew this was a long shot, but I just had to try.” Her long pause amped up my nervous anticipation. “I’m in trouble, Alec.” My gut twisted, turning the previous delicious meal sour. “I need… I need your help.”
My raw knuckles dug against the hard desk, sending pain traveling up my fingers into my hands, but I didn’t give it a second thought. My only focus was Rae.
“Where are you?” I internally begged her not to say our hometown. Anywhere but there. I hadn’t been back since the day I packed my belongings and left.
“Sweetcreek,” she whispered. My lids shuttered closed. Fuck. “Please, Alec. You’re the only one who can help me.”
Slowly, I opened my eyes. I had no choice. This was Rae. I’d do anything for her, even if that meant going back to the town where my nightmares were created. I could do this for her.
Determination straightened my spine and shoved away my concerns.
“I can be there in three hours,” I said, keeping my voice steady. Her relieved sigh blew over the mouthpiece. “Now tell me exactly where you are and I’ll find you.”
What she said next left me speechless.
“Great. That’s great, Alec. Thank you. And, um, where am I exactly?” I could almost hear her cringe. “Well, that’s a funny story. You were my one phone call. I’m at the Sweetcreek police station.”
What the actual fuck?