Ruined

chapter 13

Lisa.

I park the truck beside Roseanne's motorcycle at the motel and kill the engine. My pulse roars in my ears as I scan the single-story row of rooms and hone in on the only illuminated window.
There she is.

Curtains block my view of her, but shadowy movement flickers behind them. Is she pacing? Anxious? Or does she prevent herself from feeling things, even when she's alone? She thinks her emotions are incognito, but she doesn't fool me. I see through the standoffish exterior, beneath the wounds and fractures, and deep inside the nucleus of her soul.
I know her blueprint. The intricate, complex design of her. My beautiful girl is still in there, kicking and spitting to break free, and I'm going to help her do that. My methods may not be conventional, but I know her better than anyone. I know exactly how to reach her, and I'm highly motivated.
I'm fucking starving without her.

"She looks the same." Bambam taps his fingers on the console between us. "Even prettier, if that's possible."

Pretty doesn't even come close. There's a distinctive something about Roseanne that no other woman has. Her physical beauty is indisputable and transcendent, but it's more than that. The multi-layered facets of her nature, the intelligence in her brown eyes, the charismatic, outspoken attitude- she's a deep well of intrigue and allurement. A dangerously seductive woman. And she doesn't even know it.

"She gave me the cold shoulder when she came out of the bar," Bambam says. "I guess I deserve that, but she seemed especially withdrawn." His voice hardens. "What did you say to her?"

"She ran into some of my mistakes."

"Ah. Did you take care of it?"

"They won't antagonize her again."

Before I left the Big Sugar, I made sure every leaky mouth in the joint understood that Roseanne Park's here to stay. With me.
It'll take more time and infallible finesse to make Roseanne understand that. I return my attention to her motel room and consider what I'm about to do. This is the fulcrum on which our past and future come together in a dance of spinning, fighting, and forgiving. Forgiveness is the biggest hurdle, but it's not the only one. I need to deal with the boyfriend, her PTSD, her completion of veterinary school, and all the shit poisoning the ranch and our families.

I spent the last four years uncovering trails of deceit that stretch miles. The oil and gas drilling, the corruption in the cattle operation, the blackmail, and the bodies buried in the ravine-there's so much she doesn't know. I'm prepared to tell her everything.
But not here.

I have two more threats to worry about. One will be released from prison in two weeks. The other one skipped town. Her return to Sandbank is a risk, but my patience has run out. Her schooling's almost complete, and I have a damn good handle on the danger against her. There isn't a chance in hell I'm letting her go this time.

"Remember that time we locked her in the tack room?" Bambam glances at me, rubbing his jaw. "When the coyotes got past the fencing and killed all our calves?"

"I remember." I narrow my eyes.

"She banged on that door for hours while we helped Dad clean up the slaughter. She was only what? Six? Seven? We didn't want her to see the carnage or know what happened. But God, I can still hear her crying to get out. She didn't understand why we locked her up. Didn't know we were just trying to protect her." He thumbs his ear, and his face tightens. "Sometimes I think we shouldn't have made that decision for her."

"Don't do that." I glare at him. "We have a plan. You were right there with me when we agreed on every detail."

"I know. I am with you. But she's not going to understand."