Page 103 of Roped

“Radisson, come back here. You can’t just leave. Don’t you have anything to say to what I just told you? I love—”

He stops at the door, his hand splayed wide on the wood as he cuts me off without turning around, “Just like your help, I don’t need your love. Don’t want it. Thought that was understood.” He turns his face to the side, his profile so sharp that my heart feels the bleeding cut. “Love’s for children. For teenage girls who love the color blue and don’t know when to shut up. Who care about dyin’ flowers and makin’ pancakes for picnics. Love’s for girls who don’t know how to kiss and then think they’re in love with the first man who teaches ’em how.”

It’s been three hours and twenty-one minutes since he left me in the barn after I told him I loved him. I don’t know how I expected him to respond to my confession, but I didn’t expect him to simply leave. And if I let myself think about it in depth, I’m sure I’ll feel my heart shattering into a million pieces as little shards of it run through my veins, poking me like needles all over my body. So I’m not going to. Not yet. For now, my heartbreak will be a slow, silent, quiet death.

Because I gave them a certain time to come get me, and if I don’t hurry, I’ll be late to my own kidnapping.

So the thing is, in his hurry to break my heart, the love of my life left his phone in the barn. And since I know what his password is—his mom’s birthday; he told me during one of our many chats where I poked and prodded him with questions—I opened it and went through his messages. It only made me even more determined to do this. Because not only were there messages from Arsen and Brecken about not being able to crack this thing yet; there were threatening texts from the unknown number, asking Radisson to hurry.

So I did what I had to do. I typed out a reply that Radisson hadn’t sent yet. Gave him a time and place to come get “the cargo.” And bring what he’s owed.

Of course, there was a risk that Radisson would come back before any of this could go down. But I knew he’d stay away tonight. Something told me he wouldn’t want to deal with me and my teenage love tonight.

Focus, Peyton. You’re about to be either extremely brave or extremely stupid.

It’s dark out, and the woods are too thick to let much of the moonlight pass. But I’m almost at the edge of the path we took to get to the ranch. I’m trying to get to a specific spot where he told me he’d installed cameras. When I see a glinting light up on a tree, I know I’ve reached the right place. It’s the camera.

Taking a deep breath, I look into it and try to tell him with my eyes that I’m doing this, regardless of his wishes. And if he thinks he can scare me into sitting idle when I can help him get his sister back, then he doesn’t know me very well. He also doesn’t know me very well if he thinks I’m going to stop loving him after how he broke my heart.

Maybe that’s why I don’t see them coming. Two men in black wearing ski masks. They grab me from behind and before I can scream, one of them covers my mouth with his suffocating hand. Panic rears its head and not the good kind. My fight-or-flight response goes into effect and I start struggling. Which is quite possibly the best thing I could’ve done because I get the mask off of one of the men and I do think the camera captured his face. But also the worst because in my struggle, the phone I was carrying in my pocket so Radisson could track my location drops to the ground. I knew I wouldn’t be able to hide it for long; they’d somehow figure it out and take it away from me. But I wanted the signal to last as long as possible so Radisson would have the best chance of getting to these people.

Now, as they carry me over to their car, I hope whatever I did will help him and not ruin everything.

PART III

THE SURRENDER

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The Quiet Mustang

WHEN I THOUGHT about finding a girl for myself, I thought about taking her to meet my ma and daddy, Lynnie too. Giving her a chance to see where I came from, my roots, the people I loved. The people who made me who I was. In addition to the security concerns, maybe that’s why I brought her here, Peyton.

The girl I love.

It’s not a mystery to me. I’ve known it for a while. It took me a bit, but when everything happened at the warehouse and I almost lost her, I caught on. I thought I’d struggle with it, with falling in love with the daughter of the man who took everything from me, but to my surprise, there was no struggle. Once I accepted that she was my Princess, mine, her being a Turner wasn’t even an issue. The struggle was how to reconcile that I loved her; yet I treated her the way I did, punished her for something that was never her fault. And then the struggle was how to not tell her. How to keep it inside every time I had her in my arms. Every time I watched her smile and laugh and talk. Every time I had her in my lap and watched the world go by on Tulip, her face in my neck and her hair in my face. Every time I gave her mouth my tongue and fed her pussy my cock. Every time she shattered around me and then sang for me like my own personal angel so I could finally sleep after over a decade of nightmares.

I’ve never had trouble keeping things inside, but these words didn’t want to stay in. I kept them to myself, though. What if I told her and she got scared? What if she thought I’d break my promise to her and wouldn’t let her go? Sentence her to a life with an outcast, a monster.

She doesn’t think you’re a monster, though. She loves you.

Sitting at the lake, her favorite spot, my heart fucking pounds in my chest as I think of that. As I think of her sweet words. Her sweet, soft, life-giving, gut-wrenching words. Because nothing has changed, has it? I’m still the man with scars and a bloody past. I’m still the man who’s too angry and violent, too much in pain. Who hasn’t moved on from his past, like she said. I’m still the man who abandoned his sister. Who did horrible things to the girl he loves. Even though she doesn’t blame me for those things, a man—a man who is worthy of her love—still has responsibilities.

So this is better. A broken heart is better than a broken spirit. Which is what was in store for her if I kept her, if I told her I loved her too. If I told her that, she’d fight the world for me. And she’d do it happily. Isn’t that what she’s willing to do now too? She is willing to put herself in danger for me. For me. Because she loves me.

You make me feel alive. You make me feel safe…

Safe.

I go still. I go absolutely fucking still. As I run her words over and over in my head. I’ve been doing the same thing for the past however many hours I’ve been sitting out here, but for some reason, this part never hit me the way it is hitting now.

I do keep her safe. The thought of someone hurting her, someone scaring her or even looking at her wrong, makes me break out in a sweat, makes my blood boil, my gut clench so hard that I can’t breathe. I can’t exist another second without destroying that threat against her. And it’s always been this way, since the first moment I saw her. Since the first moment I realized I had to become the biggest threat against her. I don’t understand it. I don’t understand the connection I have with her except that it’s fate.

And it still is.

Nothing has changed then, has it?

So what the fuck am I thinking sending her out in the world that’s only ever harmed her? That will harm her because that’s what the world is. I know that firsthand. That’s what’s going to happen, isn’t it, when this ends. Isn’t that why I’ve been trying to cram in every single second of every day with her? Isn’t that why I’ve been soaking up every inch of her light, her warmth, her sweetnes—because one day I’ll have to let her go into the world? Why would I put her through that? Why would I leave her unprotected? Just because I’ll eliminate all the present threats against her doesn’t mean new threats won’t crop up. Doesn’t mean she’ll stay protected.