Tucker: The Corbin Brothers, #4

By Lexie Ray

I have secrets in my past that need to stay there—things I don't talk about. But when one of those nightmares comes back to life, there's nothing I can do to hide those terrible things from my brothers any longer.

Amelia Banks makes frequent appearances in my nightmares, both of us survivors of a sadistic serial killer from my time away from the ranch as a cop. I thought that was all over and done with—it had almost killed me and driven me crazy.

But when Amelia shows up on the ranch, terrified that the killer is hunting her once more, I start to realize that some things are never really over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lexie Ray
• Release date: Sep 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9798223294573

Lexie Ray

Readers looking for a contemporary romance that will have them on the edge of their seats need look no further than Lexie Ray's captivating stories. With a gift for crafting characters that are both relatable and deeply complex, her stories are brimming with raw emotions and intense conflicts that will leave readers breathless. For updates, subscribe here: Books2Read.com/LexieRay For business inquiries: LexieRayAuthor at Gmail dot com

Book preview

Chapter 1

I flew up to a sitting position in bed, arms flailing, a strangled shout echoing in my ears — a shout I was forced to admit was mine. I could still smell the dampness, taste the moist dirt in my mouth. It didn’t matter that it had been a dream ... a nightmare ... a memory. It was present in the room with me, the ache in my body, the dry-mouthed panic of waking up in the company of my demons.

I heard stirring in the room next to mine and scowled, burying my face in my hands. I’d been spending a few too many sleepless nights lately, and I hated the thought that I was the cause of insomnia for other members of this family.

Zoe and her son, Toby, were well within shouting distance, occupying upstairs bedrooms that my brothers had grown up in. Chance had the benefit of the master bedroom downstairs, but sound had a way of carrying in this house. It was how our mom never had to holler very loudly to get us down in the kitchen for dinner. How, if we wanted to eavesdrop on our dad chewing one of our brothers out for some infraction at school in the front room, we could do so in the comfort of our own bedrooms by cracking the door and being quiet.

I did what I always did when the nightmares struck: removed myself from the location. Grabbing my pillow, I resisted the urge to stomp down the hallway to Emmett’s vacated bedroom and padded instead, well aware that I’d probably already shouted everyone else in the house awake. The middle Corbin had moved out to the trailer some time ago for a little privacy, and I wondered if I should try to follow suit. I could at least holler to my heart’s content without bothering anybody but myself, but it wasn’t a great option. For one, he and Peyton still lived in it. And they’d moved it to a plot Chance had carved out for them to start work on the horse rehab project Emmett had been harping about for years.

It was for the best, really. I didn’t do so well alone. If I was by myself, the past tended to seep into the present, and that never turned out okay.

It didn’t take long to fall asleep in Emmett’s old bed, but I didn’t stay asleep for very long, either. The sound of wind rattling through trees, my own heartbeat hammering in my chest, the shock of the bullets that entered my body, the woman crushed beneath me, both of us covered in the dirt of the grave we would share for the rest of time ... it all drove away any desire I might have had to sleep for the rest of the night. I stared at the ceiling, instead, counting up to one thousand and then down again, doing what I could to regulate my breath, trying to stay calm. If I couldn’t find the inclination to sleep, so be it. I could at least stave off the anxiety that the dreams brought me and try to preserve the sanctity of slumber for the rest of the people attempting to get their shuteye.

My nightmares used to be more common, but their occurrence had tapered off over the years. I was puzzled about why they’d reared their ugly heads again, until I had the sense to check the calendar down in the kitchen when it got to be an acceptable time to be up and moving about.

It had been ten years. Ten years since it happened.

It wasn’t like I was keeping track or anything. But somehow, my subconscious had been. Apparently. That was the only reason I could think of for my imagination to be running me through the wringer.

Of course, it wasn’t my imagination. I was simply reliving what had happened those ten years ago.

You okay? Zoe was standing in the kitchen, looking at my finger pinned on the calendar. Special day today?

Not particularly, I said, yanking my finger back like I’d been burned. Just another day in paradise.

You got that right. She rustled around in the refrigerator until she came up with some eggs. You think Chance might tolerate some chickens around here? Could be a good way to save on eggs — and fresh meat, now and then. You Corbins and everyone else go through fucking eggs like no one I’ve ever seen before.

Did I hear you say chickens? My oldest brother snagged the pot of still-brewing coffee and stole a cup before replacing it and letting it finish its cycle. First cattle, then horses, and now chickens. Keep it up, and we might have a real farm around here.

You’re the one who’s going soft, Zoe teased. Saying yes to any goddamn thing. I just thought I’d get in and strike while the iron’s hot, that’s all.

I’m not going soft, he complained, but he looked pleased. If I weren’t so squirrelly from a night of lost sleep I might’ve been a little more delighted to realize that Zoe and Chance were flirting. Maybe this family was getting old and soft. Seemed like just about every one of us was finding someone we liked and pairing off. Good for Chance and Zoe — if that really was a thing.

Then again, the more I watched them, the more I wasn’t sure. He sneaked glances at her as she moved around the kitchen, whisking the eggs she’d cracked into a bowl with milk, salt, and pepper before dumping it into a sizzling hot skillet. When she happened to look his way, he busied himself with a crumpled trade magazine spread on the kitchen table, though I wasn’t sure he was reading a single word. He didn’t so much as turn the page, even when he’d supposedly been reading it for more than ten minutes. Chance wasn’t that dense, and neither was I. If they hadn’t already paired off, then there was certainly something there, something brewing that wasn’t just the coffee percolating.

Zoe hummed tunelessly as she bustled around. It hadn’t taken her long at all to settle in, and she fit this place like a glove. It helped that she was as foul-mouthed as the worst of us, that it didn’t make her blush or bolt if a couple of us got into heated arguments, that if anyone was lowering their eyes in shame, it was Zoe who had done the shaming. She could put the most arrogant son of a bitch right on his ass with a withering word or phrase — some of which made even my eyes widen. She was so accustomed to the less polite manner of speaking that it populated her everyday vocabulary. It was something of a wonder that her son, Toby, hadn’t picked it up yet, or else his teachers would have a field day trying to chase it out of him.

Sounded like you didn’t sleep very well last night, Zoe remarked casually, making my face color without a colorful word. Bad dreams?

I guess so, I said, embarrassed she’d thought to bring it up.

You look dead on your feet, Chance said, distracted from watching Zoe make breakfast long enough to make observations about my appearance. Didn’t you get any rest at all?

Just an active night, I said. Tonight I’ll probably be too tired to dream, so that’ll even out. I hoped that would be the case. I already planned to spend the night over at Avery and Paisley’s house. The change of scenery should jolt my brain out of whatever track it was insisting on pursuing, and maybe I would get some much-needed rest. Plus, they had plenty of rooms to spare — so many that we joked that the dude ranch barracks should’ve been in the house instead of at the newly developed property we’d built.

You won’t be much good if you’re too tired to stay on your horse, Chance pointed out.

I think I’ll be able to keep myself from falling off my horse.

That’s how most mistakes are made, you know. He sipped his coffee, and I felt an unreasonable spike of anger. He could be such a know-it-all prick sometimes. If he even had an inkling about what I was dreaming about and why, he wouldn’t tell me a word.

How are most mistakes made? Falling off your horse? I asked, dense on purpose.

Being too exhausted to think straight, Chance said, practically preening with self-importance. I knew it was a show for Zoe, or else I would’ve kicked his ass. It had been a while since we’d had a drag-out fight, but I was pretty sure I could take him. He was the tallest of us, but I was denser than he was. I had police training under my belt, too, while he was just a brawler. He didn’t stand a chance.

Morning. Toby’s appearance in the entrance to the kitchen saved me from firing back something sarcastic. He looked rumpled, like he’d just rolled out of bed, one pajama pant leg inched higher on his calf than the other.

Well, look who decided to grace us with his presence, Zoe said, putting one of her hands on her hip in mock astonishment. It’s Toby Holland himself. Risen from the dead.

I’m not risen from the dead, he protested, rubbing his eyes with a fist, his dark hair sticking up from every angle.

You sleep like you’re dead, his mother informed him. Your alarm’s been going off for thirty minutes now. School’s going to start soon, and then what are you going to do? Show up late every day? They won’t let you in anymore.

They have to let me in, he said, looking vaguely panicked but still sleepy. I want to go to school.

If you want to go to school, you’ll have to wake up on time, Zoe said gravely. No rolling around and hitting the snooze button on your alarm clock. When that buzzer goes off, boy, you’d better hop on out of bed and get ready. You’re too much of a man to have your mama yanking you out of bed and getting you ready every single day of your life.

Toby was just going to be six, but he nodded, face serious, looking much older. I’ll wake up on time tomorrow, he vowed.

Good, Zoe said, curt. Now, go wash your face and get your clothes on, and by the time you come back down here, breakfast should be ready.

Apparently motivated by the needs of his stomach, Toby scampered off, pounding up the stairs to go to his room.

You have some pretty effective training going on for that kid, I observed, pouring an extra large coffee for myself and dumping some sugar in it for an added jolt — hopefully, to keep me on my horse.

He’s my little man, she said. He takes care of himself pretty well as long as he doesn’t have anywhere to be in the morning.

I don’t trust morning people myself, I confessed. It’s just not natural to want to wake up before the sun.

If only they had night school for little kids, Zoe mused. Toby would do so well. I can hardly get that little shit to settle down at bedtime.

Anybody else who called their offspring a little shit would’ve made me raise my eyebrows, but Zoe was all affection. We were all doing our best to spoil that boy rotten — with the exception of Chance. I darted a quick look over to the table, where he actually did turn a page in the trade magazine he’d been pretending to read for the better part of a half hour. He could’ve jumped in here at any time to engage with Zoe or say something to make Toby laugh, but he didn’t. Maybe Chance had finally woken up fully himself and remembered he had a ranch to run. That was the thing he worried most about.

Maybe you should take today off, he said, locking eyes with me as I sat there staring at him, trying to figure out what his deal was.

You’re crazy, I informed him. We can’t afford to be a man down out there. You know that just as well as I do.

We also can’t afford any stupid mistakes, Chance reasoned. Or injuries.

Hell, I could get shot right off my horse on a regular day here, I joked, pleased to see my brother’s face darken. He was so self-righteous right now that to knock him down a few pegs would do him some good.

Or you could mess up because you were up all night, he said. What were you doing, anyway? Do you need more work to make you tired? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That you’re not working hard enough?

Oh, yeah, you know me so well, I simpered. I wasn’t about to tell him that I’d been dreaming of an awful night ten years ago and that’s why I wasn’t one hundred percent. He would be too invasive about it. I hadn’t told my brothers much of anything about why I’d decided to come back to the ranch after my stint as a police officer. They had just about all the information I believed they needed. I’d been wounded in the line of duty, and that was that. I hadn’t hidden anything, or lied. If any of them cared to research it, to corroborate the dates I’d left with the current events going on in the Dallas area, they’d probably be able to piece together what had happened. I just wasn’t about to volunteer any information about it that I didn’t have to.

Seriously, though, when was the last day you had off? Chance asked, pushing the magazine away from him as Zoe carried steaming plates of eggs and toast over to the table. There was usually bacon or country ham or sausage or some form of meat, but we were cutting costs everywhere in an effort to funnel all the money we possibly could in the ranch. Things would ease up a little bit once the rain fell — if it decided to fall ever again. Until then, we were doing without breakfast meats.

No one ever takes days off around here, I said, tucking in to the plate in front of me. I was convinced that Zoe could make a delicious feast out of absolutely nothing. That’s what kind of magic she possessed in the kitchen.

I take days off, she said, putting a pitcher of juice on the table.

You’re smarter than everyone else here, I said.

You haven’t had a day off in a long time, Chance said with a frown, watching Zoe spread jam on her toast.

It doesn’t feel right, really, she said, welcoming Toby back into the kitchen with a jerk of her chin toward the open chair. Taking care of you all is a full-time job, one that doesn’t have weekends.

We don’t need taking care of, Chance rumbled.