Keeping Her Forever

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2018 Winter Sloane

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-562-3

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Audrey Bobak

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this

  copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or re-

  produced electronically or in print without written permission, except

  in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are ficti-

  tious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  DEDICATION

  To my readers, I hope you like Jax and Lia’s story as much as I loved

  writing it.

  KEEPING HER FOREVER

  Winter Sloane

  Copyright © 2018

  Chapter One

  “Here’s your check,” the redheaded waitress said with a wink.

  Jax Ryder ignored her and finished the rest of his coffee. She

  pouted, eyed the cellphone next to him, and began to reach out for it.

  She gasped when he gripped her wrist and bared her a feral smile.

  “Hands off, sweetheart,” he told her in a low voice.

  His temper danced on a knife’s edge. Nancy should have

  called him by now. She couldn’t ignore his calls forever. Fuck. That

  bitch would use every leverage she had on him, wouldn’t even give

  him an inch even if he begged. He scoffed. Hell had to burn before

  that happened. Jax wasn’t the kind of bastard who bowed to anyone

  else. He played by his own rules.

  Nancy had one major advantage though—their son, a five-

  year-old boy who inherited Jax’s eyes. She baited him with Matt’s

  baby pictures even as he served his sentence. To a man behind bars,

  receiving those letters had been both salvation and a torment.

  “I just wanted to give you my number,” the redhead muttered,

  prying her hand away. “It’s not like I want to steal that old phone.

  God. It even has a keypad on it. Which century are you living in, an-

  yway?”

  He didn’t give her a response. She probably made the same of-

  fer to any decent-looking customer who came by the diner, spread her

  legs for a little extra cash on the side. Jax didn’t judge, might have

  taken her up on her offer if his nerves weren’t so fucking frayed. The

  waitress wasn’t bad-looking either.

  Finally seeming to get the message, she scooted away from

  him—the smartest decision she ever made tonight. Most women only

  wanted him for one reason. Thought they wanted a piece of him, but

  in the end? One way or another they discovered something didn’t sit

  quite right with him. Too tough. Too prone to violence and more.

  He slipped a twenty out of his wallet, took his phone with him,

  and left the truck stop diner. Jax passed a few familiar faces, nodded

  to those he considered friends. Some gave him acknowledging nods

  but returned to their early dinners, eyes glued on the old TV behind

  the counter. None came here to socialize.

  Like him, all of them had their own personal reasons for

  choosing to be long-haul truck drivers. The cool night air kissed his

  face. He looked at his phone and growled as he saw nothing. Jax di-

  aled her home number, not caring if it was against the rules.

  One ring. Two. Then a man picked up. Her new husband

  Luke. Jealousy had left him long ago. No use getting worked up over

  a poisonous bitch who seemed to have forgotten they shared a history

  back in high school. Nancy had moved on. Good fucking riddance.

  Jax only cared about Matt, about getting the bitch to let him see his

  son.

  “Give the phone to Nancy,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Jax, you shouldn’t be calling here anymore,” Luke said in a

  firm voice.

  The fucker worked a desk job selling insurance. If they stood

  face-to-face, Jax could leave him a bloody, bruised mess in a few

  minutes.

  “I know she’s there,” Jax said, blowing a breath out when the

  fucker ended the call.

  He swore, smashing the little device on the dirty parking lot. It

  shattered to a few pieces, joining discarded condom wrappers, old

  cigarette butts, and beer cans. They had shared custody, for Christ’s

  sake, except the bitch wouldn’t let him see Matt unless Jax got a

  proper address and a job that didn’t involve moving so much.

  Nancy never understood him back in high school, didn’t give a

  shit about understanding him now. She only chose to see him as one

  thing—the bastard who got her pregnant at eighteen and a monster

  who took a life.

  Jax choose this occupation for a reason. Driving across cross-

  country roads in silence, for hours, soothed his temper, made him feel

  less like an outsider, a freak. Rotting in prison for a decade altered a

  man on the most severe levels, broke him and turned him into some-

  thing else. Maybe he was the monster Nancy claimed he was, but he’d

  never hurt her or Matt. Fuck.

  Getting back to his truck, he regretted wrecking his damn

  phone. It would be a while until he got a new one. The less time he

  spent on the road affected his paycheck. He started the engine, slight-

  ly soothed by the comforting and familiar rumbling sound. Jax left the

  truck stop, thoughts on his son, on Nancy. Maybe he should have tak-

  en up that redhead’s offer after all.

  Losing himself between her thighs would have helped him

  forget about his miserable, shitty problems for a change. Too late for

  that now. Maybe the next stop.

  ****

  Lia’s little flashlight winked out once, then turned on again.

  God, be merciful. Don’t take away my light, not now.

  The sun had set a couple of minutes ago, or was it hours? It

  certainly felt a lot longer.

  Wind and brambles tore at her face and her clothes, but Lia

  Reed refused to stop. Stopping meant losing precious seconds to

  Dwayne and his pals. Just thinking about Dwayne—one hand grip-

  ping a beer can, the other fisting her hair, pulling it until the roots protested and making her scream—had turned her stomach. Fear kept her

  going, bare feet slapping on rock and uneven ground.

  If Dwayne or his pals caught up to her—she shuddered, think-

  ing about what he’d do to her.

  Lia struggled to push air out of her lungs. She’d never been

  remotely fit or an athlete in high school. The tattered remains of her

  dress got caught in something, a branch perhaps, making her lose her

  footing. She tumbled face-first into the ground, dirt smearing her face

  and skin. Her little flashlight rolled away from her hand.

  She sucked in a breath. Tears gathered in the corners of her

  eyes. She couldn’t stop them from coursing down her cheeks now. It

  was hard to be strong when her entire bo
dy ached. Exhaustion began

  to set in her bones. How long had she been running?

  Her throat felt like sandpaper and her stomach let out a growl,

  reminding her the last meal she’d eaten had been hours ago.

  She tried not to think about them too much. Lia could still

  move.

  Hearing laughter in the distance, she wondered if she imag-

  ined the sound or if it was real. Lia couldn’t tell anymore. She clawed

  at the nearest rock, forced herself to stand. Her feet bled from a dozen

  tiny scratches and her muscles protested. His recent threat echoed in

  her head.

  The next time you run away from me, you fat fuck, I’ll break

  your legs.

  Lia swiped at the little flash light. If it went out, she didn’t

  know what to do. Navigating the woods blindly was a recipe for sui-

  cide. She froze, thinking she imagined lights flashing to her far right.

  What was that?

  Hearing the purr of some kind of big engine, she felt hope leap

  in her heart. That meant the road was nearby, also vehicles and peo-

  ple. She broke into a sprint, chest heaving. Lia streaked past trees like this might be her last race. Maybe it was.

  She darted past two trees, her bleeding feet no longer touching

  earth but gravel. A loud honk made her jump. Bright, glaring head-

  lights hit her face. She had to squint, to raise a hand to her face. As

  her vision cleared, a new kind of terror slithered down her spine. God.

  The truck was huge, practically towering over her like some kind of

  behemoth. The bumper stood maybe an inch from her knees. If the

  driver hadn’t been careful, he would have run her over.

  Better dead than Dwayne, a new voice in her head said.

  A window lowered and a harsh voice called out, “Christ, lady.

  Get the fuck out of the way. You want to get killed?”

  She couldn’t identify the driver, only glimpsed a massive,

  shadowed profile. Definitely male, judging by his harsh voice and

  built. Would a complete stranger help her? He was preferable to

  Dwayne.

  What if he was worse? Lia didn’t see herself as pretty. She had

  too many curves, and in her personal experience, men only saw two

  things when they looked at her—tits and ass. In other words, men like

  Dwayne only saw a woman good for a fucking.

  Lia looked over her shoulder, at the dark woods. She hadn’t

  realized she’d dropped her tiny flashlight. It lay at her feet, complete-

  ly dead.

  She licked her dried lips and stared at the truck again. “Wait.

  Help me, please.”

  The driver blared his horn a second time. She winced. The

  sound hurt her ears.

  Realizing he couldn’t have heard her, she shouted the words

  this time. No response. Taking the chance he wouldn’t just leave, she

  padded to side of the truck. She stood directly in his light of sight.

  Please let him be some nice old man.

  Tough luck at that. Cold, faded blue eyes stared right at her.

  She couldn’t see him properly yet, but the way his gaze raked her

  bloody appearance up and down raised goosebumps on her arms.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.

  Lia flinched at his crass words. Her mother had warned her

  about men like him, like Dwayne, her entire life, but did she listen?

  You’re asking for it, bitch.

  Lia shook off Dwayne’s slimy voice in her head. She had no

  other chance.

  “Please,” she said again. She threw herself against the door.

  The smell of gasoline hit her nose. The rubber of the tires brushed

  against the thin fabric of her dress. She hauled herself on the truck

  foot rail, gripped the door handle. It didn’t open. Lia expected that,

  but this way, he couldn’t start the engine, not with her clinging des-

  perately to his truck.

  “Fuck, woman. You’re trouble. I can’t afford that,” he said,

  but this time he sounded pained.

  Something about his tone told her he might be a complete

  stranger but she detected sympathy. Something Dwayne lacked.

  He wanted to avoid trouble.

  That rang faint alarm bells in her head. Was he in trouble with

  the authorities? Lia couldn’t afford to be picky, not now.

  “Please,” she repeated. “I’ll die if you leave me here. Please.”

  The man swore again, focused those scary, intense eyes on her

  again. “Fine. Get in.”

  She couldn’t believe the words at first. “W-what?”

  “I’m not going to fucking repeat myself. Last offer. Get in or

  move on.” There it was again, the coolness in his voice. Under the

  dark of the night, with only the moon above them, he reminded her of

  a predator in human skin. She shuddered, but nonetheless climbed

  down the foot rail.

  For a second, she panicked as he put huge hands on the wheel

  again. Had he lied to her? Would he drive off, leaving her on the

  roadside without a second glance? Nothing happened. She ran to the

  other door, just in case he changed his mind. The driver leaned over,

  opened the door for her.

  She placed one foot on the rail, leaving a few smears on the

  metal. A sudden wave of dizziness hit her as she grabbed the leather

  seat.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, definitely an order.

  She reached out, heart racing, as big and rough, callused fin-

  gers closed over hers. He yanked her in with apparent ease. With a

  trembling hand, she reached for the door. It slammed shut, leaving her

  alone with a complete stranger with those scary eyes.

  Chapter Two

  Jax drove a mile or two in complete silence before he tore his

  gaze from the road for a second to glance at the woman. Nope. She

  hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. Right after he picked her

  up, she’d fallen asleep. She’d curled up like a child, legs tucked under

  the remnants of her dress. Except the body underneath those rags

  were all woman.

  Breathing hard, he turned his attention back to road, aware of

  his pulsing dick. Only a bastard would be aroused by the sight of a

  battered, injured woman. Jax should have left her there. Not his prob-

  lem, but she only had to aim those huge hazel eyes at him and he was

  hooked.

  Fuck. He couldn’t even tell how long he’d been driving. Not a

  good sign. The woman rattled him on so many levels. Where the hell

  did she come from? Whoever did her in was still out there. Rage filled

  his vision in a thick haze.

  Jax might be a branded a murderer, an ex-con, but he’d never

  hurt a woman. He drew the line there. Realizing he couldn’t drive

  without finding out how badly she’d been hurt, he stopped the engine.

  Took deep breaths.

  With the potential danger of getting into a road accident gone,

  he took his time studying her. Dark-blonde curls framed her face. He

  undid his seat belt, unsure why he ran his knuckles across her cheek.

  Huh, as smooth as he thought. Without the bruises marring her skin,

  she would be a stunner.

  He pushed the strands of her hair aside. Asleep, she couldn’t

  use those save-me eyes on him. Jax brushed his fingertips over her


  long lashes, down the bridge of her nose, and finally reached those

  lips. Fuck. She had such tempting lips. They would look good

  wrapped around his cock.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  Decent men didn’t harbor filthy thoughts about a woman they

  just picked up. But Jax wasn’t a good man. No use pretending be-

  cause she’d soon find out anyway. Besides, she looked like she had

  no cash on her. Once she healed up, he knew what kind of payment

  he’d ask for.

  He had a feeling she wouldn’t refuse him.

  Still, no touching didn’t mean he should stop looking. What

  she wore looked like it had once been some kind of floral dress. Now,

  the sleeves had been torn off, showing bruised arms. The top had been

  ripped off too, revealing heavy and creamy breasts.

  Despite how she looked, she reminded him of sullied inno-

  cence, which only intensified his hatred for the fucker who hurt her.

  If this sweet, curvy beauty belonged to him, he’d show her

  what it would be like being with a real man. Only cowards used their

  fists to teach their women a lesson. Jax knew other ways to make a

  woman squeal, to scream out his name. He’d teach her how to wor-

  ship his cock.

  He sucked in a breath, reined in his libido. She wasn’t his in

  the first place.

  She can be, a dark voice inside him said. Jax should distrust

  that voice. It was the same one who convinced him to pummel his ex-

  best friend Tom to a pulp after finding out Tom fucked Nancy behind

  his back, and then stupidly robbing a bank after. Tom lived, but Jax

  lucked out by getting a tough-ass judged who condemned him the

  maximum sentence of ten years in state prison for hitting that bank.

  A little moan slipped from her lips. Those bleary hazel eyes

  opened. She rubbed at them. He stilled, aware of his aching dick

  growing rock hard in his jeans. She focused on him, stared longer

  than necessary, and then let out a little scream.