Wanted: Decker Brother's Duet, #1

By KL Donn

From USA Today Bestselling Author KL Donn comes the first book in the Decker Brother's duet, Wanted, a romantic suspense novel.

 

Small town, big dreams, a nightmare I never expected.

I grew up with stars in my eyes and dreams beating a soft staccato in my heart.

Career, marriage, then family.

I knew what I wanted. How I wanted it.

I never expected him.

Mason Miller.

Charming, arrogant, sadistic.

He ruined everything.

He ruined me.

 

A hero with a crush, obsession, and a desperate need to touch me.

Hale Decker.

The complete opposite of everything I thought I knew.

Or wanted.

He lives, breathes, and bleeds blue blood.

So when he pursued me, I wasn't prepared.

For him or his son.

But they were relentless, in a good way.

A passionate way.

Until it all falls apart.

All I want now is to be loved, cherished, wanted. And it's there, within my grasp, but am I brave to continue reaching for it?

I want to be.

 

*** Wanted contains extremely sensitive subject matter that may make you uncomfortable. Please read with caution. ***

• Language: English
• Publisher: KL Donn
• Release date: Sep 5, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201364083

Book preview

Prologue

LAKEN

How we met.

G ood morning, Mrs. Lowe. How are you today? The older woman I have served at my family’s grocery store for almost a decade smiles back at me as she loads her groceries on the belt.

Very well, Laken. The oranges sure smell fragrant today. Every week since I was ten, Mrs. Lowe has come in for the same items and consistently comments on the oranges, good or bad. Ringing her items through, the bell above the entrance door rings, and I glance up to see a man walk in. Handsome, tall, expensive suit. He’s building the new movie theatre on Charles Street, she whispers as the customer turns my way.

His eyes slowly travel down my body, and I can feel myself begin to blush. Turning away, I refocus my attention on Mrs. Lowe. Do you need help bringing these out to your car?

Patting my hand as she grabs her bag from me, she leans in. I think that young man is waiting for you. I can get these myself. Biting my lip as she leaves, I prepare to help the next person in line, only to realize there’s no one else there.

I feel the stranger’s eyes on me as he lingers by the wall, not moving, speaking, or even trying to hide his interest in me. An interest I don’t know what to do with.

Hamilton, Montana, is as small of a town as it seems, and I’ve never gone farther than Billings or Kalispell. I love living here and haven’t given much thought to traveling yet. My parents keep trying to convince me to see the world, but I’m happy where I am for now.

Was there something I could help you with? His head tilts to the side before he walks over to me.

You’re going to dinner with me tonight. He doesn’t ask, and I’m a little bit insulted at his assumption.

I generally like to make my own decisions, Mr.…? The question hangs as he frowns.

A quirked mouth quickly wipes the annoyed look off his face. Mason Miller, I own MM Construction. Grasping my hand, he brings it to his mouth and kisses the inside of my wrist. A part of me swoons over the romantic move, and another ponders his motives over the intimate exchange, indicating a familiarity we don’t have.

Lightly tugging on my hand, I’m surprised when he relinquishes it. Laken Cooke.

Let me rephrase. Can I take you to dinner tonight? His lips lift into a smile, but I’m still wary.

You should go. My mama’s voice resounds from behind me.

Mom!

What? He’s handsome, and it’s not like we have many eligible bachelors in town that you haven’t known since you were in diapers. It’s slim pickings here, Laken. With a nudge to my back, she reaches forward, offering her hand. I’m Elisa Cooke, this stubborn young woman’s mother. Welcome to Hamilton. We’re all quite excited about the new theatre. This woman could charm the venom out of a snake if she wanted to, and as I watch Mason, I see she’s succeeding again.

Alright, fine. Dinner. I’m not sure why I feel so reluctant to go out, but I learned to listen to my intuition a long time ago.

Great! Mama claps her hands. We live just across the street with the red barn shed. She’ll be ready by seven.

I’ll be there. He walks back out without even buying whatever he came in for.

You just want grandchildren, I grouch at her.

You’re not getting any younger, dear. Neither are we. She trots off whistling.

I’m only nineteen! I call after her and am ignored.

Staring at the door Mason exited through, I guess I should give it a shot. He’s handsome, makes my belly flutter, and his confidence is a quality I could be attracted to.

One Month Later.

Staring at Mason in shock, I don’t know how to process his question. His…proposal.

Dinner has been lovely. Over the last month, we’ve spent quite a bit of time together, and I’ve come to enjoy his company while learning to ignore some of his other quirks. But I’m not sure if I’m ready for this just yet.

It’s so soon, I whisper, staring down at the beautiful princess-cut diamond nestled in the black velvet box he’s holding.

His brows pinch together, and there’s a coldness in his stare that sends a chill up my spine. I love you, Laken. It may feel soon to you because you’re so young, but this is what’s right. I want you as my wife. His charming smile makes an appearance, and my doubts subside. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t there.

We could have a long engagement. Get to know each other more? His jaw tenses and ticks and I get the feeling I’m not giving him the answer he wants.

Long? His curt tone has me looking up at him again. I was thinking next month. Gripping my hand harder than necessary, Mason forces the ring in place. Wincing as it hits the webbing between my fingers, I bite my tongue. Next month is long enough.

Smiling because everyone is watching us, I nod but say, We can talk more later.

The rest of our meal is filled with tense conversation and congratulations from the staff and residents I know, but I’m not feeling as excited as a bride-to-be should. There’s something in my gut telling me to cancel. To give the ring back.

I wish I’d listened to my gut.

One

LAKEN

My personal hell.

I ’m so sorry, Mrs. Miller. You’ve lost the baby.

Lost.

Like she’s been misplaced or forgotten.

Lost.

As though I turned my back and suddenly, she was gone.

Lost.

I’ve heard it multiple times now.

I’ve cried each time.

I’ve vowed never to let it happen again.

Each. Time. I make myself a promise that I won’t get pregnant again. I won’t put myself through this again. I won’t allow my husband to nearly beat me to death and kill my babies.

Because that’s what he does. He gets angry over the littlest things. The dumbest things. Being pregnant has not been easy for me, and over the last year, I’ve carried and lost three babies. Lost. I hate that damn word and everything it represents.

I didn’t lose them. He killed them.

Why? Because morning sickness has ravaged me all day long, violently, and so far, nothing’s helped. Though, this time...this time, I thought it would be different. I made it to nearly four months before Mason lost his temper and threw me down a flight of stairs. I crashed into the doorjamb and knew immediately that another innocent was gone.

Mrs. Miller? The nurse—I think her name was Amy—has a look of concern on her face. Did you hear me?

Rolling my head to the side, I have no tears left to cry. Yes. My dry throat makes my voice crack.

Laken? Another nurse, one who was with me the first time and the second, who has seen me in the E.R. three times in between, steps into the room. What did he do?

I need help, Christine. It’s the first time I’ve asked for it. Admitted it. And I didn’t even know it was coming.

Amy, call Dr. McMillan. Tell her it’s Laken. The young nurse nods as Christine takes a seat on the bed with me. One of her hands cups the side of my face where there are old bruises and new ones forming, while the other grips my hand with support. What happened?

She knows I won’t talk about it, but she always asks. My entire body aches from the beating I took. All because I told him I couldn’t make it to the gala he was invited to by one of the prestigious architecture companies he works with.

Laken, darling, how are you? Dr. McMillan has a security guard with her as she closes and locks the door behind her. Security has been instructed not to let him in. Your file has been flagged so nobody gets information about your condition or where you are. You are safe. She takes my other hand as she stares into my eyes, imploring me to understand that now is my chance at freedom.

Doctor and nurse share a look as I close my eyes. I understand I need out. I need help. I’m just so afraid. Mason has made promises I know he’ll keep if I ever leave him. But do I even have a choice anymore? What happens if I carry a baby to term and he turns that rage onto them? I’d never be able to live with myself.

I want to go home. The tears finally break.

Laken… Dr. McMillan starts.

No. I want to go home to Montana. I want my parents. I want to never have married that monster. I want small-town life and everything it represents. I miss home. I haven’t been back to Hamilton since getting married a little over a year ago. Mason was a steamroller at first. I thought it was just because he was so excited to marry me. As it turned out, he was tired of hiding the monster beneath the surface.

Okay, darling, we’ll get you there. I don’t say anything because how can they? They don’t know my husband, the power he wields. I’ll never be free.

Soon after I stop responding to them, I’m left alone before being wheeled up to Obstetrics, where they perform a D&C to remove the now-dead fetus. A fetus I fought so hard not to love at first because I was terrified of the inevitability of losing her. But it happened anyway. I fell in love with a baby whose gender hadn’t been revealed yet, but I wished for a girl and called her Strawberry Shortcake because that was my favorite show when I was little. I made plans and had dreams for her future.

Now they’re all gone. A void replaces my soul. An emptiness I don’t ever want to feel again.

Knock, knock. A woman cracks open the door. The security guard remains in sight as she slips in. Good evening, Laken. My name is Janet Walker. I’m a crisis counselor from Social Services, and Dr. McMillan called me this afternoon after your procedure.

Raising the back of the bed upright a bit more, I sit straighter as the older woman walks farther into the room. Hi.

Pulling the guest chair closer to my bed, she sits down with a briefcase in one hand and a binder in the other. Is it alright if I call you Laken? I tip my head. I don’t ever want to be Mrs. Miller again. Good, I thought it might be more comfortable for you.

I stare at her because I don’t know what to say, what she wants me to say. Watching as she shuffles through some papers in her binder, she places a few sheets and a pen on the small rolling table at the end of my bed.

Gloria—Dr. McMillan—has informed me of the number of times you’ve been in over the last year. The losses you’ve suffered. Pity shines in her eyes as she looks up at me. Today, she told me you finally expressed a desire to get help. Is that true?

Trust doesn’t come naturally to me, so I only shrug my shoulders. I don’t know this woman well enough to tell if she’s faking her abilities and concern or if she’s genuine.

That’s okay. I’m here to help anyways. These papers—she points to the table—"are release forms and