Unleashed (Beneath The Reign #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Harper

Song- Dry Spell, Kacey Musgraves

Three hundred and sixty-five days.

That's how long it's been since a man put his hands on me. One full rotation around the sun since I let some guy from a bar fumble around on top of me for seven disappointing minutes while we both pretended the tequila wasn't doing all the heavy lifting.

I faked it. He bought it.

Before he'd even caught his breath, I got dressed, ordered an Uber, and decided right there in the back of a Prius that I was done. Done trying to find something that even remotely resembled what I used to have.

But that isn't even the pathetic part.

Two thousand and thirty-seven days.

That's how long it's been since a man gave me an orgasm I didn't have to manufacture myself.

Six years of handling my own business, because apparently no one in this city of four million people can figure out what one cowboy from New Falls, Arizona, knew how to do when he was twenty years old.

And right now, at eight forty-seven on a Friday morning, that cowboy's name is staring back at me from my computer screen.

Ace Sterling.

My cursor blinks against his name in the case file. I’m investigating my ex-boyfriend and his family for links to organized crime, and today, of all days, is his birthday.

The guy I fell in love with at fifteen, when I was stupid enough to think love was simple. The man who loved me so completely, so recklessly, that he would've burned his entire future to the ground just to follow me to LA.

I couldn't let him do that, so I became the villain in our story instead. I broke his heart so clean he'd have no choice but to stay, to climb onto the back of a bull the way he was born to, to become the champion I always knew he'd be.

I did that.

And if I close my eyes and think hard enough, I can still feel him. The way his calloused hands used to grip my neck like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. I can hear him breathing my name against my cheek.

Goldie.

My cheeks catch fire. I press my palms flat against them, willing the heat away, and blink until the sting behind my eyes retreats.

That was a long time ago. A different Harper. A different life. Maybe the last time I was truly happy was on Sterling Ranch in the arms of my crazy bull-riding ex.

I ran here to chase stories. To find a whole new world outside of the small town gossip. I thought back then, I could have it all. The career and the man. Ace had to stay back in New Falls; it was where his family was. Where his own career was taking off.

And it turns out, long distance couldn’t work for us.

We tried. And every time we had to leave each other, a part of him died.

I saw it happen. When he offered to give up everything to move with me, I bolted.

I couldn’t let him give up his own happiness for me to chase this job.

A job that six years later doesn’t bring me the joy I thought it would.

Because nothing except Ace can bring me that happiness in life. And now I’m too damn embarrassed to admit I fucked up to even face him.

Now, his older brother's baby mama is dead. I stumbled onto the Sterling’s name on a tipline a few weeks back, and I took the story. I had to be the only person with eyes on that information to report it in the way it’s meant to. To protect that family.

The case file in front of me has Hunter Sterling's name circled in red as the primary suspect. He’s cleared now, but only barely. And the real story? The one any decent journalist would kill to crack open? It reeks of something deeper. It’s the kind of story that builds careers and wins awards.

The kind of story I've been burying.

Because the thread doesn't stop at Hunter.

It winds through the entire Sterling family, through the ranch, through the money, through the maze of connections that link a small-town rodeo dynasty to something that looks an awful lot like organized crime.

And if I pull that thread, if I do my job the way I was trained to, it leads straight to Ace.

So I won't pull it. I'll lie. I'll downplay. I'll write the most boring, forgettable report this online newspaper has ever published, and I'll sleep just fine knowing I chose him.

I always will. I knew back then his family had their hands in some bad things; they never admitted it, and I looked the other way. So, I can’t say I’m shocked to find out my suspicions were right all along.

"Morning, Harper!"

Samantha's voice hits me like a bucket of sunshine as she rounds the corner and drops her oversized tote onto the desk opposite mine. She's wearing a gorgeous yellow sundress that totally belongs on a beach in Malibu, not the twelfth floor of an online newspaper company in downtown LA.

"Morning." I smile, minimizing Ace's file with a click.

"Hudson's in a mood," she says, leaning in and lowering her voice. "Way worse than usual. He was on the phone when I walked past, and I swear the vein in his forehead was about to pop."

I roll my eyes. "When isn't he in a mood?"

She glances over her shoulder toward his glass-walled office. Even from here, I can see him pacing behind his desk, jaw tight, phone pressed to his ear. Samantha is editor in chief material. She’s got it in her. Hudson just won’t give her the opportunity.

"It's a tragedy, really," she sighs, turning back to me. "That face. That jaw. Those shoulders. All wasted on a man with the emotional depth of a parking meter."

I bite back a laugh. She's not wrong. Hudson Blake is the kind of man who makes women walk into walls.

Tall, dark hair, green eyes that could cut glass.

And rich. The rich, rich kind that comes with a corner office, a company with his family name on the building, and the unshakeable belief that the world was built specifically for his convenience.

"One man can't have everything," I say, leaning back in my chair.

"Did you finish the Red Creek piece?" she asks.

I nod, reaching for my coffee. It's cold. It's always cold by the time I remember to drink it. "Yeah. Wrapped it up last night."

"And? Anything juicy?"

I take a slow sip and shake my head. "Dead end.

Literally and figuratively. Ashley Edwards was an alcoholic in a bad neighborhood, and everyone's moved on.

The guy they liked for it got cleared, and the department basically shrugged and filed it away.

Cold case overnight. It's honestly kind of sad. "

The lie comes out smooth as silk. I've gotten good at that. At being an imposter. When my parents ask how LA is, if I’m living my best life, I lie, and I say yes.

I thought this job would be meaningful. I could dig into the lies of the world and report the truth. That is not the reality. It’s dull. No matter how much I lie to myself, the Harper I am in LA isn’t the girl I want to be.

But at least now, this job, this move, leaving Ace, it all has a purpose. To protect him.

"Oh." Samantha's face falls. "But you were so excited about that one. You said it had legs."

"It had legs. Turns out they were both broken." I shrug, tossing her a grin I don't quite feel. "Story of my life. The big one's coming, though. I can feel it."

“Did you at least get to visit your friends back home? You lived in the town next door, right?”

“Yep.” Another lie.

I stumbled on Hunter’s new wife in a bar and struck up a friendship with her. She’s full of fire and just what that family needs. Other than that, I kept my head down for the two weeks I was there, because I was petrified I’d bump into Ace.

She opens her mouth to respond, but the sharp crack of Hudson's office door slamming open cuts through the bullpen.

Every head turns. Every keyboard goes quiet.

His eyes sweep the room and land on me. My heart races because I know I’m in the firing line. I know the report I sent him was shit. A little part of me is proud, I wanted it to be bad.

"Harper." He pauses. The silence stretches just long enough to make my stomach clench. "My office. Please."

I stand, tugging my dress straight, and follow the click of my own heels across the marble floor. The walk to his office is maybe thirty feet, but with every pair of eyes tracking me, it might as well be a mile.

I close the door behind me. He pulls out the chair opposite his desk.

"Sit." He barks.

I do as I’m told and keep my mouth shut, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

He settles into his chair across from me, leaning back. His green eyes lock onto mine and hold. Samantha is right, he’s totally hot. But that means nothing when a man is a complete tool.

"The Red Creek report," he says finally. "Boring. I waited two months for you to write that?"

Oops.

"I know. It came to a dead end." I try to sound sincere.

"That's it? You know it’s crap? I let you run around that strange little town for two weeks, and I got absolutely nothing. I should cut some of your pay for this." He huffs.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. And I kind of mean it. This isn’t how I work, I’m good at my job, just not this one report.

"I can keep digging if you want me to," I offer sweetly.

"But there's nothing there, Hudson. Ashley was a troubled woman who died in a rough neighborhood.

The suspect was cleared. Local PD doesn't care.

Nobody cares. It's a small-town tragedy, not front-page news.

That is unfortunately the best I could write. This happens with tip lines."

I’m pleased with my speech, Hudson’s brain is turning. I think he believes me. I hope he does. Because there is something going on in Red Creek. Something big enough to blow the roof off this online newspaper and put my name on every journalism award in the country.

But some things matter more than a career. I learned that the hard way.

He scoffs, running his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "We need something big, Harper. Readership is down. The board is breathing down my neck. And every piece we've run this quarter has been—"

"Solid."

His jaw tightens. "Solid isn't enough. Solid doesn't sell. I have to prove–" He pauses, and clears his throat.