His Runaway Mountain Bride by Madison Faye

“Night sweetheart!”

I smiled as I passed Kathy her change. “Nice to see you guys!”

“Always a pleasure, Lucy.” Frank, Kathy’s husband, smiled warmly at me through his silver beard. He patted his stomach and chuckled. “Tell Jackie and Stone that the pork chop special was goddamn heaven.”

“Frank! Language!” Kathy rolled her eyes through a smile as she elbowed her husband. She turned and winked at me. “I mean, it was pretty damn good.”

I laughed. “I’ll pass it along.”

“Please do, just as long as you also pass along that we think hiring you was the best dang thing they ever did after opening this place,” Frank chuckled.

“Better than hiring Christian?”

Christian Granger was the new-ish chef Jackie and Stone had hired a few months before. Him being on Blackthorn didn’t make a ton of sense, seeing as the guy used to run Michelin star fine-dining restaurants in big cities. But Dallas and Austin, two of the guys who lived a little more remotely up on a ridge of the mountain had known him from their old lives before coming here, and the guy was looking for a change.

And hey, if nothing else, that’s exactly what Blackthorn was good for—changes and second chances. Trust me, that I could certainly attest to.

Handsome, young, French, charismatic, and ridiculously good at what he did, it really didn’t connect why Christian was here. But I had my hunches he was running from something just the same as most people who’d found their way up here. After all, Blackthorn was also home to ex-bikers, gangers, hitmen, outlaws, and all sorts of bruised and fallen angels.

…And if we’re counting me, thieves who are in way over their head with very, very bad people.

But needless to say, whatever the reason for his being here, Christian’s farm-to-table take on using local, organic food was proving to be a hit, and The Pines bar and restaurant was killing it. So long as it kept me employed and didn’t end up attracting any annoying city “foodies,” I was more than good with it.

Frank laughed, pulling me away from my wandering mind. “Well, he keeps making pork chops like that, and he might just beat you out for my favorite. Hell, he might beat this little lady too,” he chuckled, putting an arm around his wife. Kathy gasped in mock indignation and slapped his tummy.

“Well I’d like to see your new chef best friend try and fit into all that naughty negligee of mine you like so much if he’s gonna be your new favorite.”

I hooted in laughter as Frank went bright red.

“Kathy!” he hissed, shooting me a mortified look. Kathy just giggled her ass off and beamed at me.

“Oh, Lucy’s a big girl! I know she gets it!”

Frank looked like he wanted to melt through the floor, but I just laughed. I mean hell, I just hoped I still had naughty lingerie fun in the bedroom at their age. For a moment, my mood soured at that one word: “still.” “Still” implied I was currently having bedroom fun, which was most certainly not the case. After all, it’s a little hard to get lucky when you’ve spent the last two years running away from the only man you ever wanted.

My husband.

“C’mon, let’s get out of here and let her clean up and get home, Frank.” Kathy grinned impishly. “I mean, unless you’d rather Christian and his pork chop drive you home?”

Frank just glowered red under his bushy grey beard and mumbled a “thanks again, Lucy,” as Kathy laughed and dragged him away by the arm.

“Night, Lucy!”

I waved again as the bell on the front door dinged, and then they were gone. I breathed slowly, wiping down the bar top where they’d been sitting and then turning to drop the tip they’d left in my jar. I glanced towards the end of the bar, and I started for a second. Fuck, I’d forgotten he was even here.

The man wore all black, including the long, business-style peacoat and a black knit hat. The coat and hat where neatly folded over the bar chair next to him, and same as every one of the last six or so nights he’d been here, he was engrossed in his book. He drank vodka on the rocks with a twist of lemon—three every single night, with no food. On the surface, it might have seemed normal enough—maybe a little quiet and reserved, but normal. Except, something was very off with him.

For one, his eyes lingered too long. And he never, and I mean never, blinked. He had a pinched face, and those unblinking, dark, lingering eyes felt like they were peeling your clothes off. Or maybe even your skin. I shivered as I glanced at him sidelong. It wasn’t just the staring, either. Even the way he talked made my skin crawl. His voice was like halfway between a whisper and a whine, if that makes any sense—like something was choking him as he forced the words out. And when he said my name?

I shivered again.

Fuck, it was the stuff of nightmares. That pinched, hissed, dragged-out “Luuuucy” made my hands clammy. I had no idea what his name was since he always paid cash, but I’d started referring to him as “The Creep.” Stone and Christian had gotten wind of it two days before and were pretty concerned about me being uncomfortable, but I waved them off. Trust me, I’d dealt with plenty of creeps in my life, especially after I’d gone on the run.

But that night, for the first time since he’d started showing up, I was alone with him. The previous nights, he’d had his drinks, read his book, and left at a normal time. But that night, we were definitely closed, and he was the very last person in the place. I’d been working for Stone and Jackie long enough by then that they trusted me with a key and to lock up at night. So that time of night, it was just me at The Pines, since the kitchen staff and floor waitstaff were already gone.

I swallowed thickly as I printed his check and walked to the end of the bar.

“Hey!” I smiled, hoping it covered the shiver. “So, we’re closing up if you don’t mind! Hope everything was good toni—”

“How was your night, Luuucy?”

Ugh, that fucking voice. I felt the cold shiver run down my spine as my skin crawled.

“It was good, thanks!”

I smiled and went to turn away, but he stopped me.

“Make some tips tonight?”

I frowned as I turned back. “Yep!”

He looked at me with a thin, pinched smile, not saying a word. I just smiled back and turned to go finish closing up, hoping to God he’d just leave his money and take off before I looked back.

“You make a hundred forty-two thousand in them?”

I froze, my heart sinking as a cold feeling washed over me.

Oh fuck.

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

They’d found me. A year of hiding out, and somehow, they’d fucking found me. When I’d left my old life, I’d started doing what I was always good at: stealing things. But I wasn’t a kid anymore, taking candy or clothes I wanted. No, my talented had grown, and so had my reputation in certain circles. Jobs started finding me, and I took them all. The problem was, I started taking them without doing my homework well enough. And that would be how I managed to take a job stealing diamonds from none other than Anthony Marcello, the kingpin head of one of Chicago’s largest mafia families.

Needless to say, Anthony wasn’t exactly pleased with his jewels getting jacked.

By the time they caught up with me, I’d already offloaded the diamond necklace and earrings set to my fence, who had of course disappeared. So that left me holding the bag, however empty it was. I guess in hindsight, Anthony could have very well had me killed. Instead though, he wanted me as his own personal thief to pay off the debt. I did do a few jobs, before I realized this was a debt that was never going to go away. So, I did what I’d done a hundred times before: I ran. But this time, I ran still apparently owing Anthony Marcello one-hundred and forty-two thousand dollars.

…And it’d just caught up with me.

I shivered and swallowed thickly as I turned towards The Creep.

“I—I’m working on it,” I said quietly.

“Well, Luuucy,” he said with a cold smile. “Work harder. Our mutual friend is running very thin on patience, especially after your, uh, disappearing act.”

“I’m going to get him the money,” I whispered.

“I know you, are Lucy.”

“Look, I’m trying. I’m also getting out of the game, so it’s just taking a little longer.”

“Oh, are you turning over a new leaf?”

I didn’t reply, and he smiled wickedly.

“Looking for a second chance? Turning your life around, are you?”

I slowly nodded, and his smile grew wider.

“Well, that’s some real Oprah book club shit, now isn’t it? Good for you, kid.” Slowly, his smile faded. “But first, you pay us back what you owe, or I’m going to personally cut little pieces off of that pretty face until you look like a Halloween pumpkin. Understand?”

The cold feeling inside of me began to chill me to my core.

“I’m—I’m working on it.”

“So you’ve said. Perhaps I’m not being clear enough. You have three days to get Mr. Marcello the rest of the compensation for what you stole from him, or I’ll be back. And next time, I will not be bringing my book to read. And Lucy? I do hate to be taken away from my reading.”

“I get it, fine,” I croaked out. “Now, get the fuck out.”

His smile faded again. “Excuse me?”

“Look you’ve made your fucking point, okay? You wanted to freak me out and threaten me? Good, mission accomplished, creep,” I hissed. “But right now, you’re in my bar, and I’m telling you to—”

He moved faster than I’d ever have imagined. And in one second, he was vaulting the bar with a long, curved, thin, wicked looking knife in his hand. I screamed and bolted down the bar, my heart racing as I heard him right behind me. I ducked under the end of the bar and dashed for the front door, but suddenly, his hand caught me. I shrieked as he spun me around, and when I felt cold steel at my neck, my heart basically stopped.

“Listen to me, you little bitch,” he hissed into my ear. “If it were up to me, we would have cut your thieving fingers off one by one the minute we caught you the first time. So maybe to make myself clear, I’ll just take one or two of them tonight.” He grabbed my hand, headless of my shrieking as he moved the knife towards my fingers.

And suddenly, the front door crashed in. I glanced up just in time to see the huge, roaring shape thunder across the room, an then it was hitting us both like a truck. I screamed as huge, strong hands yanked me away from The Creep and sent me tumbling across the floor. I rolled and looked up just in time to see the huge man smashing his fist into The Creep’s face. Blood streamed down from his nose, and he brought the knife up, but the big guy effortless grabbed it, wrenched it free with a snapping sound to The Creep’s wrist, and threw it aside.

The Creep screamed as the big, built blond guy punched him again and again, until he was limp and mumbling. He roared as he dragged him across the floor, opened the door, and dragged him right outside. Through the window, I watched him toss the guy into a snowbank, spit on him, and turn back. And suddenly, our eyes locked, and my heart jumped into my throat.

Fear and adrenaline had clouded my head. But seeing him now face-to-face through the window, it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Because standing there heaving and breathing plumes of frozen breath, all muscles and blond hair looking like some sort of hunky Viking, was the man I’d run from two years before.

The love of my life. My first everything.

My husband.

He walked back towards the bar, and part of me thought about running, but I knew I wouldn’t. Not that time. Not with my feet planted to the floor. The door swung open, and suddenly, for the first time in two years, I was in the same room as Rowan Taylor. The door shut behind him, and he reached back to lock it, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Blonde looks good on you.”

His eyes moved over my hair, which was brunette the last time we were together in the same room.

“What are you doing here?”

I cringed the second I said it, and I watched him scowl.

“Hi, dear,” he growled. “How are you? How was your day? Have you been wondering where I’ve been for two fucking years?” He hissed, glaring at me.

“It wasn’t….” I frowned. I’d had this conversation a hundred times in my head, but now that we were there, I was forgetting the words. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like it did,” I said quietly.

“Oh, it wasn’t?” he snapped. “Well, I’m glad my wife running away from me two fucking years ago and never even once reaching out is all a big misunderstanding.”

“Rowan, you know why I had to leave.”

“I’m guessing because you stole something?”

“We tried—”

“No, I tried. You fucking ran, Lucy,” he growled. Those blue eyes of his smoldered and burned into me, and I shivered as the heat I always, always felt around him teased through me.

“What are you into, Lucy?”

I shook my head. “Leave it, Rowan.”

“Leave it? I’m just going to pretend that I didn’t just beat the fuck out of some shithead with a fucking knife to your throat?”

“Finger.”

“What?”

“He had the knife to my… never mind,” I mumbled. “Rowan,” I frowned. “Fuck.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I mess up your evening by saving you?” he snapped. He was pissed. Like, really, really pissed. And I got it, really, I did. He had every right to be mad, but at the same time, so did I right then. Because yeah, he might have saved me, but he’d also just damned me. Owing money to the mafia was one thing, but owing them money and then beating the shit out of their collector? Well, even I knew that was a quick way to find yourself in a shallow grave.

“Yeah!” I spat back. “You kind of did. That guy out there? When he—” The sound of screeching tires had us both whirling just in time to see a black sedan roar out of the parking lot, the bloodied, fuming face of The Creep glaring at us out of the driver’s side window before he was gone. I groaned. “Fuck, Rowan! When he gets back, I’m fucked. Like, dead-fucked.”

He glared back at me. “Tell me what you’re into, Lucy. Look, whatever it is—”

“Leave it alone.”

“No,” he growled. He stepped towards me, and just like it always did with him, my heart began to race. My skin tingled, and even with the brush with danger earlier and every fucked-up emotion running through my head, a wet heat pooled between my thighs. Like always with him.

“Why not,” I whispered.

“Because you’re my wife,” he growled as he stepped closer.

“No, Rowan,” I shook my head. “No, I’m—”

“Yes, you damn well are,” he growled. Rowan closed the distance between us, and I gasped as his hands slid over my waist. And in spite of everything, and in spite of the years between this touch and the last one, I moaned.

“Yeah, you are, baby,” he grunted. His hands tightened on me, and I gasped as he pulled me right against him. Heat rushed through me at the feel of his hard, muscled body against mine. “And this time, I’m not letting you run.”

He leaned in, and just like that, his lips found mine and he kissed me with a fierceness I hadn’t felt a single drop of since the day I left.

I moaned as his lips crushed to mine, his groan rumbling through me as he held me tight against him. His big hands held me firmly, kissing me slow and deep as I melted against him. And then, suddenly, the reality of what the fuck we were doing hit me, and I pulled away with a gasp.

“Goddamnit,” I whispered, holding a hand to my tingling lips as I stared at him. “You can’t just kiss me after—"

“Watch me.”

His mouth slammed into mine again, and this time, I let myself go. I moaned as I kissed him back, my arm sliding around his neck as he growled into my lips. He pushed us back until my back hit the edge of the bar, and I whimpered as he ground against me, kissing me with everything he had. My hand slid around his waist as I lost myself in that kiss, until suddenly, I felt it. I felt it, and suddenly, everything froze inside of me.

There, at his back, under his coat, was the unmistakable bulge of his badge, a pair of cuffs, and his holstered gun. And suddenly, the reality of all of this came rushing back, and so did the reasons I’d left.

I’d left because I was a thief, and I’d married a lawman. A cop-turned-FBI agent. I’d left because we were only ever going to end one of two ways: either me ruining his career and making him resent me. Or him finally busting me and throwing me in jail. And all of a sudden, I knew why he was really there, and I couldn’t let that happen.

I kissed him one more time as my hand sensually slid under his jacket. My fingers brushed the handle of the gun, and without another second of hesitation, I grabbed it, yanked it out of the holster and from under his coat, and had it pressed to his abs.

Rowan growled lowly as he slowly pulled away from the kiss.

“Dear…”

“Let me go, Rowan,” I whispered. “I don’t know how you found me but let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that,” he grunted.

“Why, because you’re married to your badge?”

“Because I’m married to you, Lucy,” he growled. “And because I fucking love you.”

The words hit me like a slap, stinging my heart as I winced. Because the truth was, I knew it. I knew it because the sentiment wasn’t a one-way street, I’d just hid my own feelings even from myself, because I’d had to when I ran. The truth is, the man in front of me that I was pointing a gun at was the love of my freaking life, but I knew it couldn’t be. We were oil and water. Fire and ice. Doomed from the start. What we’d had was never going to work, and I’d fooled myself into thinking it would.

“Move,” I whispered.

“Where am I moving too, darlin,” Rowan grunted.

“Outside. Now.” I pushed the gun against him, and he smirked.

“That how we’re doing this?”

“Yup.”

His eyes burned into mine as he began to back up, but I got the impression he was more just going along with this, not that he was actually scared of the gun. We moved all the way outside into the cold, and I nodded at his Jeep.

“Get in.”

“Where are we going, Lucy,” he murmured.

“We are going nowhere. Get in, and drive away, and forget about me.”

“You know there’s no way that’s happening.”

“Which part?”

“Every part,” he growled.

“Please get in the Jeep, Rowan,” I murmured, cocking the gun and biting my lip. “Please.”

There was a long, slow silence as we stood there a foot apart in the slowly falling snow. But finally, he nodded.

“Good to see you, darlin’.”

He turned, cool and calm and never once looking at his own gun in my hand as he walked over to the Jeep. I watched him get in and start the engine, and I gestured once with my gun for him to drive.

I watched as my husband slowly pulled out of the parking lot, and watched his taillights fade away. My arm dropped; my whole body suddenly limp with everything that’d just happened.

How the fuck did he find me?

I bit back tears as I walked back into the bar, killed the lights, grabbed my coat, and then stepped back outside. I locked up and went for my car. Luckily, the old beater started, and I blinked, trying to hold back the tears in the frozen interior as I pulled out of the lot. Two years ago, I’d run from the love of my life. That night, he’d found me again, and now I was going to have to do it all over again. And that maybe hurt the most.

I drove home to my rental house across town slowly. More than once, I checked my review for headlights, almost hoping that Rowan would’ve been waiting to follow me. After all, he may have found where I worked, even with the fake last name of “Hanson.” But my rental house was under an entirely fake identity of “Susanne Green,” and I even paid the rent through a fake shell company I’d set up years before. But every time I looked for his headlights behind me, I felt a twinge of disappointment at not seeing him.

I got home and turned off the engine. Getting out into the frozen night, I plodded my way up the stairs to the front door. My key slid into the lock as my heart sank further, knowing I was about to lose him all over again, and knowing this time just how fucking hard that was going to be. The door opened, and I stopped in—

…And the light in the living room clicked on.

I screamed as hands grabbed me, yanking the gun from my jacket pocket and tossing it away before he yanked me against his big, firm chest. I gasped as I looked up into the eyes of the only man I’d ever loved, the man I’d married, and the man I’d given my everything to. And I trembled.

“I told you I can’t let you go, baby,” he grunted. “And believe me, this time, there’s no fucking way you’re getting away from me.”

His lips crushed to mine, and this time, I let myself drown in them.