• Thirty •

I wanted away from this place.

Capri

In the light of day, last night looked a little different. Maybe if I’d woken up with Thatcher in bed with me, I would have been less aware or focused on what was wrong. Starting with how he had gotten into my house. I had woken up this morning and checked every door and window. Nothing was unlocked or broken. The only helpful thing to come of it was, I did find my phone. It had been in the kitchen near the window by the sink. Which was odd because I swore I’d looked in that area more than once yesterday.

Slamming my car door with a little more force than necessary when I got out at the stables, I glared at Carmen out on the track with Miller. Yes, business was separate, but didn’t I at least deserve to be told they had decided to let Carmen ride Zephyr in the race? Perhaps before or after Thatcher had unleashed his talented tongue between my legs, we could have had this conversation?

Frustrated, I headed for the stables. Thatcher’s car was here, and I wasn’t going to just let this go. He owed me a simple, I decided that Carmen was a better fit for Zephyr. Or something. He also needed to tell me how the hell he had gotten into my house.

Walking inside, I glanced around and didn’t see him in the stalls, then headed for the lounge. The door was open, and he wasn’t in there. I wasn’t going outside until we talked. He had to be in here somewhere. I checked both tact rooms, the office, and headed for the other side when I stopped at the stairs. I’d never been up there. Was that where he could be? Maybe he had his own office up there?

Taking a minute to decide if I should go upstairs or not, I chewed my bottom lip, then decided that, yes, Thatcher was going to talk to me before I went out and exercised horses. Taking the turn midway, I was almost at the top when I heard it. Or her. It was a her.

She was loud.

I gripped the banister tightly.

“GOD! YES! HARDER!” she screamed. “PLEASE! YES, YES, YES, YES!”

That could be Sebastian in there. Or Wells. Heck, it could be Storm with his fiancée. I’d seen them almost going at it down by the stalls before.

“Put it in my ass, Thatch!”

I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat.

Standing there, I listened as he apparently stuck it in her ass. She yelled like it hurt, talked about how big it was, that she wanted him to come all over her face.

When I heard his grunt and her begging for more in her mouth, I knew it was over. At least this round.

Closing my eyes for a moment, feeling like a complete idiot, I knew I couldn’t ask him about how he had gotten inside my house right now. I’d get new locks put on. I wasn’t sure I could see him again. This was too much.

I was not the kind of girl who could deal with him. He fucked lots of females. Although he had yet to fuck me. He just kept his face between my legs.

When I reached the bottom step, I knew I had to at least go talk to King. I couldn’t leave without saying anything. This was a great job. It would have possibly been the one to make my career. But I’d been dumb, and I knew there was no way I could stay here. See him.

I just couldn’t. It wasn’t like they needed me for anything more than an exercise rider anymore anyway. Carmen was back, and I didn’t want to have to see him get the races I wanted.

King turned to see me as I approached. He frowned at my lack of riding boots or a helmet.

“Jim has Nemesis ready for you out there.”

“I can’t,” I said, then stopped. I had to end this professionally. I couldn’t be an emotional female. “This isn’t going to work for me here. If you could, please let Mr. Shephard know I appreciate his giving me a chance. I enjoyed it, and I am thankful for everything. I just need to move on.”

King took his cowboy hat off and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “This about Thatcher?”

I nodded. No reason to lie.

“He’s gonna come after you.”

I laughed, but it sounded as sour and used as I felt. “No. He is done with me. I got to listen to just how done he was until he finished in her ass.”

King’s eyes widened, and he cleared his throat. “I see.” He placed the hat back on his head. “The thing with Thatch is, he’s not wired like everyone else. He’s not sane on a good day, but when you are involved, he can be a touch demented. Just … be prepared.”

I didn’t want to stay here any longer. He and the girl he’d just screwed would be coming down soon.

“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll do that.”

He gave me a smirk that said he knew I wasn’t listening to him, and then he walked out toward where Jim had Nemesis.

I didn’t take my time to find Sebastian and explain. I wanted away from this place.

I’d already run three miles, but the thought of stopping and letting myself feel anything wasn’t appealing. I was going to run until I was too tired to care. Then, I would eat a carton of ice cream. Heading down to the lake path, I almost turned around because a memory of Thatcher down here years ago came back to me. No, I couldn’t do that. He was in too many memories now. Might as well face them and move on.

I slowed as I reached the curve so I didn’t trip and fall in the water. The breeze down here was a welcome relief from the sun that had been beating down on me when I ran the two miles on the main road. Stopping, I leaned forward and placed my hands on my knees and took several deep breaths. I needed some water, but I’d drunk all that I brought with me.

Going back to the house was probably a good idea. I had to hydrate. If it was too difficult, I’d take off running again. Standing up, I raised my hands over my head and stretched. Lowering them to my sides, I heard something behind me. A small rustle. I started to turn around when a cloth was crammed into my mouth. Panicked, I swung my arms and screamed through the muffle, but I was wrapped up and unable to move due to a strong hold on me that didn’t budge.

“Easy, little doll,” a familiar voice said in my ear. “It’s just me.”

I stilled. Thatcher? I was being gagged and held by Thatcher? I shook my head, not understanding, and squirmed in his hold.

“I don’t mind you rubbing your ass against my dick, but I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

I tensed, not wanting to think about his dick and an ass. His hands grabbed my waist and spun me around. I glared up at him, only to see him chuckle before he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. Using both fists, I pounded his back. He held my legs in a way that I couldn’t move them at all, but the realization that I had my hands to undo my gag hit me. I reached up to get it when I was back on my feet. Thatcher sighed heavily.

“I didn’t want to do this, but you’re making me.” His voice sounded actually pained.

He grabbed my wrists and began to tie them up with a rope. I tried to fight it, and he pressed my back against his chest and locked me in so tightly to him with one of his legs that I couldn’t move.

“Please don’t pull on the rope. It’ll get tighter, and I fucking hate it when you’re hurt.”

Was he serious, or was this a joke?

He pressed a kiss to my forehead, then tossed me back over his shoulder. When I tugged at my hands in frustration, the ropes tightened, and I winced. He hadn’t lied about that. I remained still as I watched the ground grow more wooded as he stepped over fallen limbs. My stomach was starting to hurt from the position I was in when he finally stopped. I heard a car door open, and I turned my head to see a truck I didn’t recognize. It didn’t look like his.

He eased me off his shoulder, as if he knew it was hurting me, then placed me gently in the passenger seat and buckled me up. I wanted to shout at him, demand he untie me, ask him what the hell he was doing. But all I could do was watch him walk around the front and climb inside the driver’s seat. We were somewhere in the woods that I hadn’t known existed and had never been. But there was a small road cleared through the woods up ahead.

“Are your wrists okay?” he asked, picking up my hands and looking at them.

I shook my head.

He frowned. “I told you not to pull. Dammit, it’s gonna leave a mark. This skin is too pretty to damage.”

“He’s not sane on a good day, but when you are involved, he can be a touch demented. Just … be prepared.”

Was this what King had meant? I wished he’d been more specific. Not so vague. I’d thought he was referring to Thatcher showing up in my room in the middle of the night. Or shoving his friends against the wall and shouting at them. I had not thought he meant he would tie me up and … what was this anyway? Kidnapping? Was he taking me home or where?

“We need to get going. Don’t pull them again. I can’t fix it yet.”

Where did we need to get going to?

He put the truck in drive, then reached over and placed his hand on my leg, slipping his fingers between my thighs. I stared down at it. His hand was large and a dark tan color, like the rest of him. The veins in them and his rough palm made them even more masculine.

GOD! What was I doing? The man had me tied up and gagged, taking me off somewhere like a crazy person, and I was lusting over his hand. But it was between my legs, and I was wearing running shorts. This was unfair and so very messed up.

“You quit,” he said as he pulled out onto a back road I also didn’t recognize.

I turned and looked at him.

He glanced at me, then back at the road. His long lashes, straight nose, strong and defined jawline, wide mouth with just the perfect amount of plump to them- just enough to make them soft, distracted me for a moment.

“Can’t let you leave me, little doll,” he said as the hand he had on the steering wheel tightened. “Even before I had a taste of your pussy, probably couldn’t have let you go then either. But now”—he shook his head—“you’re mine.”

Distraction over. I gritted my teeth, wanting to yell at him and slap him. I was not his. He did not own me. He had left my bed, then gone and screwed some other girl. I wasn’t that girl, and I couldn’t do it. I’d already let myself get attached to him, which had been so very stupid.

I stared hard out the window, my body tense, angry, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Thatcher’s hand slid up until his finger brushed against the crotch of my shorts. I hissed in a breath. I didn’t want this. I could still hear that girl crying out his name. He might still have her on his hand. I shivered at the thought and wiggled, trying to get away from his touch.

“Don’t,” he warned, squeezing my leg to keep me still.

I swung my eyes over to him.

“This is mine,” he snarled. “Don’t try and keep it from me.”

No, it sure as hell was not! I growled through the gag. He glanced back at me as I did my best to shoot daggers at him with my eyes. He began to grin, and then he laughed.

I was not being funny. I was furious.

He handed me a bottle of water. “If I pull over and ungag you so you can drink, will you be good? Keep that smart little mouth shut?”

I looked at the water, and my dry throat seemed to get worse. I nodded. I needed water. I’d get my fill, and then I’d let him have it.

He pulled over on the road that not one car had passed us on yet and reached over to untie the gag. When he let it fall, he smirked at me, knowing I wanted to yell at him but that I wanted that water more. He held it up to my mouth.

“Drink it all,” he told me.

I gulped it down, desperate for it. The hot sun had wiped me out, and now that I was being abducted, it made me even thirstier.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, brushing hair out of my eyes. “Finish it up.”

I took a breath, then began to drink more. It was so cold. I realized I was almost done, and I hoped he had one more. I’d be good long enough for one more bottle …