Relentless Hearts (Black Heart Security #7)

Chapter One

Willow Malone adjusted the thin straps of her slip dress one more time, admiring how the sheer champagne silk caught the light.

The barely-there fabric skimmed her curves like a whispered promise, and paired with her favorite worn leather cowgirl boots, made her look like trouble wrapped in designer packaging.

Exactly the vibe she was going for.

Walking through the ranch house put her on edge. Every door she passed, she expected one of her six brothers to leap out and give her hell about her outfit. After so many years of hassling her about her attire, they should have given up.

Not her brothers. They were all ex-military, bodyguards for the family business, Black Heart Security—and the self-appointed fashion police.

She lightened her steps so her boots didn’t thump on the wood floors. As she rounded the corner and entered the mudroom, she saw her sisters-in-law all gathered there, putting the finishing touches on their own party looks in the mirror.

“Ready to paint the town, ladies?” she called out to them.

They chattered with excitement as they slipped on their jackets and made for the door.

Willow cast another quick glance around for her brothers. Hot damn! She just might make it out of here without one of them commenting on her dress.

“Ready, ladies? All aboard the bachelorette party bus!” She whipped open the door.

All of her sisters-in-law hurried out, headed to the big van she’d commissioned for the bachelorette party so nobody had to worry about driving home or taking multiple vehicles.

Willow grabbed her handbag, turning to leave.

And stopped dead as a familiar wall of muscle blocked her path.

“Dammit. I was almost in the clear.”

Her older brother Theo crossed his arms, his protective big-brother expression firmly in place. The gray eyes the siblings all shared ticked over her, from her full, sexy curls to her bare thigh peeking from the slit of her flimsy dress.

“You’re not leaving in that.”

Willow rolled her eyes so hard she was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. “I’m twenty-five years old, not fifteen. I’m big enough to make my own decisions about fashion.”

“That’s not fashion, that’s lingerie with delusions of grandeur.”

“It’s called confidence. You should try it sometime.” She stepped to the left, but he mirrored her movement.

“Willow—”

“Move. Or I’ll tell everyone at Rhae’s bachelorette party exactly what you were like when you had that crush on Miss Henderson in eighth grade.”

His expression blanked. He stepped aside.

“Smart man.” She patted his chest on the way out the door.

When she boarded the van, the party was already gearing up, with a bottle of champagne flowing into plastic cups. Willow crowded onto a bench seat and accepted her drink with an enthusiasm she didn’t fully feel.

Oh, she was happy for Rhae, the next in line to take the Malone name and make Denver one very happy man. But Willow had been up since dawn, working with the horses while juggling the last of the party plans.

Rhae caught her gaze, her eyes twinkling with happiness. She raised her glass to Willow. “You’re going to devastate every man in the Rusty Spur tonight. That dress is perfect on you.”

Her smile widened. “Tell Theo that. He stopped me on the way out the door.”

Theo’s significant other, Juliette, raised her brows. “That man can be so bossy.”

“All my brothers are bossy.” She sipped the crisp champagne and settled back in her seat to listen to the chatter around her during the twenty-minute drive.

The Rusty Spur was alive with energy and country tunes pouring from the speakers while boots shuffled across the worn wooden floor to a line dance . Neon beer signs cast a warm glow over the packed bar, and the air thrummed with laughter and the clink of bottles.

This was exactly what Rhae deserved before she tied the knot—a night of pure, unadulterated fun.

Willow felt the music in her bones as they claimed a table near the dance floor, drinks coming as fast as the compliments on her dress. She was riding high on the attention, the freedom…

The promise of a night where nobody expected her to be the glue that held the family and so much more together.

After a few sips of her margarita, she jumped up and grabbed Rhae by the hand. “Time to dance!”

With a toss of her head, Rhae laughed and followed her into the middle of the dance floor. The thump of boot heels vibrated up into Willow’s calves as she twisted and bopped to the fast music.

After only two songs, Rhae returned to the table for a rest and refreshment, but several of their party flooded out to dance with Willow.

Someone bumped into her from behind. She ignored it—it happened in a big crowd like this. But when they bumped into her again…and seemed to press up against her from behind, she whipped around to see a tall guy who worked on one of the nearby ranches.

“Willow.” His smile was too lazy from drink.

“Hi. Is it Braden?”

He nodded, pleased that she remembered his name from the single brief interaction she remembered ever having.

“Your brothers let you off the ranch tonight.”

She issued a short laugh. “Yup, they do that sometimes.”

“You sure can dance,” he drawled out, cutting his gaze to her breasts, then hips.

“I love it.”

“Lemme buy you a drink.”

She shook her head and raised her voice to be heard over the music. “Thanks, but I can’t. I’m at a bachelorette party.”

He made a slow grinding motion with his body that some women would have tripped over themselves for, but she’d been around this block a time or seven.

The music ended, and she prayed it wasn’t a slow song. Luckily, another fast song blared through the Rusty Spur, saving her from what was sure to be Braden’s stranglehold on her.

“I finally get to talk to you without your brothers breathing down my neck.” His eyelids drooped to half-mast as he looked her over and his stare attached itself to her cleavage like a leech.

She could almost hear her brothers telling her they were right about that dress—she shouldn’t have gone out in it.

But a woman’s appearance didn’t give any man the right to touch them.

Before she could say anything, his hands landed on her hips and he yanked her close. A cloud of vodka pinched her nostrils, and she pushed away from him.

He followed her, gliding his hands down her hips, his hot fingers teasing at her thigh exposed by the slit.

“Stop!” She stumbled back to put distance between them. Just then, fingers closed around her hand.

“Willow! Come on.” Her sister-in-law Aspen yanked her off the dance floor.

Relieved, she followed her through the crowd to their table. On the way, Willow glanced up to see a familiar man standing across the room, his back to the wall, beer bottle poised at his lips.

Decker Jansen was in the therapy program for military vets on the Black Heart Ranch. He didn’t look her direction as she hurried to her party’s table, and she didn’t try to catch his eye.

The night went on with drinks and appetizers shared between all of them. Willow’s eyelids felt heavy from the long day, and her feet ached in her boots, but she pushed through the exhaustion—this was Rhae’s night, and she wasn’t about to be the party pooper who quit early.

Everyone was laughing and carrying on, sharing notes on Willow’s brothers.

Willow broke in, holding up her phone. “Hey, ladies! We need group photos for the scrapbook!”

Everybody positioned themselves around the table, and Willow snapped photos of all of them, drinks in hand, with pouty lip faces and with their arms around each other.

She summoned her brightest smile for the camera, channeling a liveliness she was determined to fake.

Then the beat of the music got into her blood, and despite her waning energy, she was on her feet again, moving onto the dance floor before she thought twice.

She swayed her hips, shimmied her shoulders and tossed her long hair back, feeling the swish of it over her spine.

When the hair on the back of her neck prickled, she turned to see Braden sitting at a table, alone, staring at her over the drink in his hand. The table was littered with empty glasses and a couple beer bottles.

She pushed deeper into the crowd to escape his notice, but a second later, he was standing in front of her, gyrating like he was the star of a cowboy movie.

Irritation ripped away the last of her patience. She darted a look around, searching for escape, when suddenly, Aspen and Honor closed in to drag her away again.

Aspen’s dark hair swung forward as she leaned close to talk to Willow. “That guy is giving me the creeps. Let’s get out of here.”

This was one of those times when Willow was glad to have her family around her. She bobbed her head in agreement and hurried outside with Aspen to find that the rest of her party was already boarding the van.

As she settled on the bench, she kept her smile in place for everybody else’s sake even as she felt herself slump. Her social battery wasn’t just low—it was blinking a warning that it was out of juice.

She was thrilled that Rhae’s celebration had gone off without a hitch—her future sister-in-law deserved every moment of happiness tonight. But as the adrenaline finally wore off, exhaustion hit Willow like a freight train.

Her cheeks ached from smiling, her feet throbbed in those damn boots, and she could feel the weight of the long day settling into her bones. Relief flooded through her as the last of the group said their goodnights and drifted off to bed.

She couldn’t wait to peel off this slip dress, kick off her boots and crawl into her big, cozy bed where she could finally drop all the plates she was juggling.

* * * * *

The Rusty Spur throbbed with bass from the music, the kind that made the floors hum and the bottles on the back bar tremble.

Decker leaned against the wall near the end of the pool tables, a longneck sweating in his hand. He’d barely taken two sips. The beer was more prop than pleasure—something to make him look like he belonged while his eyes stayed locked on her.

Willow.