Reparation Read online

  For my b!tches

  The women who keep me accountable, make me laugh, and fill my phone with pictures of boobs.

  Book four in the Vigilante Justice series takes us back to the beginning…and finishes something left undone.

  * * *

  Everyone left threads untied in their lives. Mine just happened to be the kind that could make you stumble, could make you fall flat on your face. Could leave a trip line handy for the enemies who would use it against you.

  * * *

  My girl needed safety and security, and I hadn’t given that

  to her. Not really. Not yet, at least.

  * * *

  To secure her future, I needed to put mine in jeopardy.

  * * *

  I needed to do some killing.

  Sign up for Kristin Harte’s newsletter so you never miss out on anything Justice related. CLICK HERE or go to www.kristinharte.com/newsletter

  * * *

  Are you a Bookbub subscriber? You can follow Kristin there as well so you never miss a new release!

  www.kristingharte.com/bookbub

  * * *

  Chapter One

  The evidence of someone else’s depravity had become the ultimate sign of my failure as a man.

  Scars. They riddled her body, covered her back in a mishmash of raised flesh that made my blood burn hot with rage. Every line, every lash, was a bitter reminder that I’d failed her. Even though I hadn’t known her when those marks had been created, I saw them as my own personal defeat. The man who had hurt her, who had broken her skin and made her bleed, who had branded her as if she were nothing more than livestock, was still alive. Still a threat to us. Still pulling strings that endangered my girl, my town, and my family.

  Still instilling fear in the woman I loved more than life itself on an almost daily basis.

  I never knew what sort of mood my Shye would be in when I got home from work. She was a happy person at her heart—kind and loving, nurturing almost to a fault. She’d normally have a smile on her face and a few words for me about how she’d missed me. She’d ask me about my day and give me a little hug and a kiss. Those days were my favorite because I got to tell her how much I missed her, too. How much she meant to me. Got to run my hands over her curves and feel her hot little body pressed against mine.

  But every once in a while, maybe one day out of fifteen, she wouldn’t be waiting in the kitchen for me. She wouldn’t be smiling or happy or ready for me to paw all over her. She’d be tucked into a dark corner or curled up under a blanket. Her face would be blank or maybe tear-streaked, her muscles tense. I’d come home to find my girl trapped in memories I couldn’t rescue her from and surrounded by demons I couldn’t slay for her.

  I knew today would be one of the bad days the second I pulled up to the house.

  “She’s been quiet.” Three words. That was all Finn needed to say for me to understand exactly what I was walking into.

  “Thanks. I’ll take care of her.” I hurried up the steps and across the porch, leaving my brother to head home without a goodbye. My mind was already focused on my girl, on what she needed, on finding a way to pull her from her fear cycle as quickly as possible. I opened the front door slowly and called, “Shye?”

  Nothing. No response. Which wasn’t like her. She had to be hiding somewhere in the house. Not from me—never that. Thank Christ the woman didn’t fear me because I think that would have broken my heart to have to see. No, what Shye feared she wouldn’t find inside of me. Not ever.

  I headed to Shye’s normal hiding spot, crossing the smoke-gray floors with quick but quiet steps. She adored my beetle kill pine floors and the neutral colors of my little house in the woods. She said it had felt like a home to her right from the start, which was what I’d wanted. I would have changed anything—ripped the whole damn structure down and started over for her—but she’d loved my place from the moment she’d moved in. So it was now our place, but she had her preferences on where she spent her time. Her spaces that seemed more comfortable for her. One of those was the entertainment room—big, soft couches with matching armchairs furnished the room, a respectably sized television hung on one wall, and my books lined shelves that circled the rest of the room and framed the large windows looking out over the valley. Dark and comfortable, the room had always been my favorite one in the house. Shye must have agreed.

  I found Shye curled up in one of the leather armchairs, a soft blanket covering her and a book left open in her lap. She looked completely relaxed at first glance. Just a woman staring out the window at the beautiful fall day outside. But then she turned slightly, just enough for me to see the red rimming her eyes and the paleness of her face. The pinkish tinge along her cheeks from the tears. She’d been crying. Again.

  “Honey? Are you okay?”

  She finally faced me and gave me the wateriest smile known to man. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  Because she was probably stuck in the rut of reliving memories. Of the years between when her dad had died and when I’d snatched her away from her solitary life. Of how her stepbrother had tortured her, beaten her, and threatened her very life.

  All things I needed to deal with at some point. Soon. But first…

  “You look cold.”

  She shrugged, still not holding my gaze. “It was a little chilly earlier.”

  “Why don’t I draw you a bath? We can sit and chat for a bit while you warm up.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. Besides, I always enjoy getting you naked.”

  She laughed, still sounding too soft to be normal. Too far away. Still lost in her thoughts. I’d tug her out of them, though. Soon. I paid attention to her—knew her signs of struggle and her wants almost as well as she did. I knew what she needed most of all, too, and I’d provide that for her. I hadn’t yet—not really. Not completely. But I was a determined motherfucker. Steadfast and sure. I’d get there.

  I followed Shye upstairs, my head swimming with plans and thoughts and intel on the issue at hand. I couldn’t tell her what I was going to do—she’d try to stop me. Be so worried something would go wrong that she’d beg me not to try. And I’d listen to her because all I wanted was to make her happy. To give her what she wanted. But need had to outweigh want, and what she needed was safety and security. Stability. That meant getting rid of the metaphorical quicksand beneath our feet.

  Once the bath was run, I stripped out of my clothes and slowly, lovingly removed hers as well. Seeing her naked always revved my engine, but the flatness in her eyes, the emptiness, kept me from taking my foot off the brake. She needed me, but not in that way. Not yet, at least. Later, she’d want my weight on her body and my arms around her. She’d want me to love her good and slow, want to lose track of everything but me. She’d want to spend a few hours being us.

  Right then, there was someone else in the room. The ghost of a memory haunting her, crowding us. So, I’d wait, and I’d do my best to break the hold of that energy. I’d make sure she knew I would always take care of her, and I’d give her time to forget once more.

  So instead of kisses and touches and pushing her toward a physical peak of pleasure, I settled her between my legs in the hot water and started washing. I took care of my girl because she needed it. Needed me to be soft with her for a bit.

  I was washing her hair when she murmured, “You are the sweetest man.”

  No, I was a man who paid attention and was so fucking grateful for the gifts she gave me, but I wouldn’t argue with her. Not then. “You deserve sweetness. Now, what got you upset today?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Shye.”

  She sighed, leaning back against me as I ran my fingers through her wet hair. “Colt’s birthday is to
day.”

  Colt. Her stepbrother. Also known as a Soul Suckers enforcer with the road name Pistol. Also known as the motherfucker who had tried to force Shye to fuck thirty men for some sort of screwed-up payment after her dad had died in a car accident. And when she’d refused, he’d put the scars on her back instead. Thirty men or thirty lashes.

  Colt didn’t deserve to celebrate another birthday.

  I rinsed the shampoo from her hair and leaned her forward, staying silent. Giving her the chance to tell me more. At least, until she flinched when I touched her back.

  “Alder—”

  “I love you, honey.” I kissed along her shoulder, tracing the lines of brutality with my lips. Showing love where she’d once been shown hate. Not stopping until she had relaxed again in my hold.

  She finally sighed. “I know you do.”

  There was no way she understood how much, so I kissed her scars again. “Every inch of you.”

  “Those are some ugly inches.”

  “You’re beautiful. Always.”

  “And you’re a charmer.”

  “I still try.”

  “You still succeed.” She turned, straddling me. Facing me in the tub even as the water sloshed over the sides. Looking more like her normal self. “I’m sorry I get so upset.”

  “Don’t you dare apologize to me.”

  “You shouldn’t have to pick up my pieces when I fall apart.”

  Aw, fuck no. “Shye, you make me happier than I ever thought possible. So, yes, I should have to. I should worry and care for and do everything I can to keep you happy because there is nothing I love more than seeing you smile.”

  And there it was—her real smile. The one she saved just for me. The one that told me I’d locked that ghost up tight. For now.

  “I know I already said this, but I hope you know I mean it when I tell you that you are the sweetest man.”

  Not even close. “Just giving back what you give me. Now, come on—let’s get out of this tub and put some clothes on. I feel like taking you out.”

  The excited smile on her face felt like a punch in the gut. I’d been so busy lately with work and taking care of the town that I hadn’t spent as much time spoiling her as she deserved. I’d start fixing that tonight.

  Shye stepped out of the tub, grabbing two towels and handing me one as she asked, “Where are we going?”

  As if we had a lot of options. “I was thinking we could go to The Baker’s Cottage for dinner, and afterward maybe head over to that country bar in Crystal Falls for a little dancing.”

  “You’ve never taken me dancing before.”

  I hadn’t, but I suddenly wanted to spend a few hours with her wrapped in my arms. Wanted to rock her side to side as we moved across the hardwood floor. Wanted to forget that Camden had quit the mill and left town, that Bishop had basically done the same with as much time as he spent in Vegas with Anabeth, and that Gage and Katie had killed the county sheriff last week, which had meant Deacon and I had been forced to make some pretty last-minute decisions on the body disposal of a relatively public figure. She needed to get her mind off her past, and I needed to get my mind off my present.

  “Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do it tonight. C’mon, honey. Put on a pretty dress. I want to show you off a little. Make sure every man in the county knows you’re mine.”

  Her laugh warmed my heart, but my own grin fell the second she walked out of the bathroom. We’d go out tonight. I’d buy her a nice dinner, take her dancing. Charm the panties right off her and make sure she laughed and blushed a few times. And when I got her home, I’d have her calling my name and coming on my cock for sure.

  But, tomorrow…

  Tomorrow, I’d start putting things in motion.

  My girl needed safety and security.

  Which meant I needed to do some killing.

  Chapter Two

  Being pulled from sleep in the middle of the night had never been my favorite thing. As a kid, it had usually been because one of my siblings was having a nightmare. When I’d grown old enough to help my dad take care of the town as all Kennard men were bound to do, he’d tended to wake me up because there’d been an issue that needed handling. Some sort of emergency that couldn’t wait until morning.

  When I’d headed off for the military, wake-up calls were because of incoming enemies or missions that needed to be enacted right away. Or simply because the officer in charge had felt like being a prick. That had also happened in my earlier years, though I’d become the prick later on. Turnabout being fair play and all.

  Once I’d moved home, if I was woken up in the middle of the night, it was usually because of a problem in town that needed my attention. Right back to my teenage years, just with me fully in charge. Fully responsible for the lives of the people who called Justice home.

  So, yeah, all bad reasons to be pulled from sleep. Because of my history, I tended not to like being woken up. At least, I hadn’t until I moved my girl in to my house and my bed. Three years of wanting her, wondering what loving her would be like, and I’d learned my answer. I’d also learned to enjoy being woken up by her. The woman had a tendency to pull me from sleep with her hands on my flesh, her dirty words softly whispered in my ear, and her body primed for me. Great nights, but not the best. My favorite was when she woke me with her lips wrapped around my cock. Just like tonight.

  “Damn, honey.” I groaned and arched hard, sliding into the sweet, hot heaven of her mouth as I came fully awake. She hummed around me and sucked harder, taking me deep. Fuck, I was going to come. Likely only two minutes in, and I might as well have been a horny teenager with how much control I had. Or didn’t have.

  But Christ, I wanted to make this last. Wanted to enjoy a few extra minutes of her loving me that way. Wanted to burn the image and feelings into my memory—the way her hair tickled across my abs with every bob of her head, how she kept her hands braced against my hips for leverage. The wet heat of her mouth enveloping me. So good. Too good for any man to resist. That girl was too much but not enough all at once, and I was right there with her. Loving every second of heaven and hell she gave me.

  And when she suctioned those lips that were made for doing exactly what she was doing, I finally lost my damn mind. With pleasure rocketing through my gut and tightening my balls, my leash snapped. But I didn’t want to come in her mouth.

  “Get up here.” I grabbed her under the arms and dragged her up the length of me, capturing her mouth as soon as I had her where I wanted her. She wiggled those sinful hips over mine until I was lined up just right, then sank back, taking me inside her. She couldn’t take me quick, though. My girl had been a virgin when I’d met her, and she was a lot smaller than me. Every time we had sex, I had to be careful, to nudge my way inside slowly. To give her time to stretch around me so she didn’t hiss in pain. That first minute or so when we joined was always a test of my control—the heat, the tightness, the way she’d gasp and hold her breath as I worked my way deeper. All challenges I needed to overcome so I didn’t come on the spot.

  But the best, my absolute favorite and most mind-blowing thing my girl did was to close her eyes and purr as I finally worked my way in deep. She fucking purred like a cat. That noise always came right as I slid in all the way. Just as I ended up completely surrounded by her heat. That sound made me want to come so hard, every time. I’d been the man who introduced her to sex, and knowing she enjoyed it—that she was able to give herself over to her pleasure with me—was everything. I’d never deserve her, but I’d work myself to the bone to make her happy. And right then, making my girl happy meant making her come.

  “Alder, please.” Shye sat up straight, her hair falling over her shoulders in golden waves, my T-shirt covering the parts of her she didn’t like me to see. I knew what she wanted—what she loved. My mouth. Or, more specifically, my words. As much as she’d likely never admit it, she loved when I talked dirty to her. And I loved watching her go wild on my cock when I said the ri
ght things.

  “That’s it, honey. Ride me hard. Let me watch your little cunt take my cock deep.”

  She bounced harder, moaning loudly. I slipped a hand between us, pressing on her clit with my thumb as she worked hard on top of me. As she brought us both right to the edge of release and then let herself go. The feel of her coming, the way her pussy clenched around me and practically milked my cock, was too good to resist. Too much. I’d been fighting wanting to come long enough. I thrust up hard, groaning as I filled her. As I came inside her heat.

  “Fuck.” I took a deep breath and yanked her up my body, kissing her nice and strong when I had her wrapped up in my arms. “I love it when you wake me up with your mouth.”

  “I know.” She giggled and curled up on me, clinging to my arms as she caught her breath. “You tell me that every time I do it.”

  I did. “Just want to make sure you know how happy you make me.”

  She lifted her head and brought her mouth to mine, giving me one of those sweet, sweet kisses that almost made my heart stop. Her smile when she pulled away restarted it, though. “I’m glad I do because I feel the same way about you.”

  “Good. Then we’re a matched set.” I patted her ass and helped her stand, knowing she’d want to clean herself up a little before we went back to sleep. After we’d both taken care of what we needed to, I dragged her little ass back under the covers and tucked her against my chest. “You good now, honey?”

  She hummed her assent. “Dinner, dancing, and late-night loving. This has been the best night ever.”

  My chuckle shook the mattress. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  She released a big sigh and snuggled closer. “I never expected to be this happy.”