Choosing Fate: A Love in Eden Novella Read online

  Choosing Fate

  A Love in Eden Novella

  Sloane Kennedy

  Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Want More of Eden?

  About the Author

  Also by Sloane Kennedy

  Choosing Fate is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Sloane Kennedy

  Published in the United States by Sloane Kennedy.

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover Image: © Wander Aguiar

  Cover Design: © Cate Ashwood Designs

  Copyediting by Courtney Bassett

  ISBN: 9781661979140

  Chapter 1

  Zander

  I knew in my gut long before I turned the radio down that it was a woman's cries I'd heard coming from outside. There was a small part of me that wanted to turn the radio back up and just ignore the sound of raised voices because the last time I'd gotten curious about such sounds, I’d nearly ended up behind bars.

  But in the end, I set the volume on the lowest setting and stood there in silence as I simultaneously cleaned the wrench in my hand and listened to the commotion outside.

  Energy surged beneath my skin as I heard a raised male voice say, "I'm tired of playing around, Jolene!"

  There was a response, but it was too soft to make out. That in itself had warning bells going off in my head. "Let him have it, sweetheart," I murmured to myself. How many times had I played witness to the same type of encounter? Over and over I’d silently begged my mother to go off and rip my father a new one, but she never had. Even when I'd gotten old enough to stand between her and the bastard whose blood ran through my veins, she'd never reached her breaking point. At least, I hadn't thought she had. I'd been proven wrong three days after my twelfth birthday.

  I shook off the memory that tried to invade my mind. It was easy enough to do when I heard the guy outside impatiently snap, "Do you have any idea how many versions of you are in this piece of shit town? Younger, prettier, smarter… I like me a challenge, but I've had a hell of a day and I’m not in the mood for your uptight bullshit."

  I still couldn't hear what the woman had to say when she responded, but there was no doubting what the sound was that sharply cut her off. My vow to stay out of the situation went up in smoke when I heard no additional sounds coming from the woman. In fact, all I heard was the occasional soft banging of a body hitting metal.

  There was a tiny part of my brain that tried to remind me that I needed to keep myself in check, but the second I walked out the side door and stepped around the building to where the gas pumps were, that voice went silent.

  Completely silent.

  The lights above the pumps were flickering, so it was only every few seconds that I saw what I knew was yet another image that would haunt me for the rest of my life.

  The woman was small. There was just no getting over that part. Maybe it was because the guy she was with was a tank or maybe she was just a little thing, but either way, she was sorely outmatched. The guy had her pressed up against the side of a very expensive-looking pickup truck and was using one of his hands to hold both of hers in place above her head. I couldn't really see the rest of her because his large body hid much of hers from view. But now that I was outside, there was no missing the sounds she was making. Or trying to make, at least.

  The asshole holding on to her was covering her mouth with his and even though I didn't see her face, I knew it was a bruising, cruel, ugly kiss that was meant to hurt and punish and nothing more. I could hear the sobs in the woman's throat as the man's free hand pressed between their bodies. It didn't take much of an imagination to determine what was happening.

  I hadn't stopped moving after leaving the garage, so it took just seconds to reach the pair. My blood boiled with fury and excitement at the same time. I'd never been particularly proud of the fact that I sometimes took pleasure in hurting someone who was hurting another, but at that very moment, I had absolutely no shame over how much I was going to enjoy this.

  I grabbed the guy by the hair and yanked hard at the same time that I slammed my foot into the back of his knee. His agonized scream was like a balm to my soul. I didn't care how many years of freedom this could cost me, it would be worth it. Especially when I got a brief glimpse of the woman and saw her tears mixing in with some blood on her cheek. So not only had the bastard struck her, he’d done it with some kind of object that had torn her delicate skin.

  As the man knelt at my feet and cried pitifully, I reached for his right hand. The sight of the heavy gold ring had the rage inside me going from dangerous to full-on murderous. To cause the damage that he had, he would've had to have hit the woman with a closed fist. A blow from a man his size could have easily incapacitated any opponents. The young woman was lucky to still be standing.

  I twisted his wrist hard. The sound of snapping bones gave me some measure of relief, but even with the son of a bitch begging for mercy at my feet, it wasn't enough. I pulled back my right arm and let my fist fly. Warm blood sprayed across my face, but the sounds of the woman's sobs were still ringing in my ear. So I punched the guy again, and then a third time. Fortunately, the man was still conscious, so I had a reason to go for a fourth punch. But the sound of a gunshot going off behind me had me freezing in place.

  There was an eerie silence as I held completely still and only turned my head. I opened my mouth to explain to whatever police officer had stumbled upon the encounter that I was unarmed, but there was no officer, no police car. There was no one but the woman.

  The woman and the gun she had pointed directly at me.

  "Let him go," the woman said shakily. Blood trickled down her cheek and onto the slinky white dress she was wearing, but she didn't seem to notice.

  I unceremoniously dropped the guy who was moaning incoherently in my hold. I turned to face the woman with both my hands up in the air. I couldn't help but be disappointed, though I didn't really understand why. It wasn’t like I’d never seen this same thing time and time again… a woman treated like shit at the hands of a man but never failing to stay by his side. My mother had been one of those women until she'd surprised us all when she finally found a way to escape her tormentor for good.

  I took in the sight of the woman before me. She was closer to my age, which put her in her early to mid-thirties. My guess that she was petite had been only half right. Had she been standing closer, the top of her head would have only reached my shoulder. But it was definitely the bulk of the man still moaning on the ground that had made her look smaller than she was. She was slim but still had curves in all the places a woman should. Her dark hair was well past her shoulders and I could see some kind of dainty-looking clip dangling from some of the strands, which meant she’d probably had her hair in some kind of pretty updo when the assault had started. The knowledge that the guy had torn her hair was just another nail in his coffin as far as I was concerned, but the small revolver she was holding in her hand made it impossible for me to put the guy six feet under.

  "Step away from h
im," the woman demanded. Her voice sounded rough and scratchy, and I wondered if it was because of how loudly she'd been screaming for help beneath the weight of his hand.

  I did what she said and moved away from him. I didn't bother trying to defend myself because I knew women like her were too far gone when it came to the men who made them believe that what they had between them was love. It was anything but. It was ownership, it was a power play, it was…

  I didn't finish the thought because I didn't have the heart to. The very reason I was in the too-small town of Eden, Wyoming was to escape thoughts like that for a while.

  I watched as the woman approached her boyfriend or husband or lover or whatever he was to her. I wanted to warn her not to let him get his hands on the gun when she dropped to her knees next to him or hovered over him or began whispering apologies for upsetting him or whatever else she would do to get back on his good side. I knew my warning wouldn't be welcome, so I kept my mouth shut.

  The woman stepped closer to the man, but there was no kneeling or apologizing. In fact, she looked downright dead in the eyes as she stood over the man and whispered, "Stay away from me, Ted. Do you hear me? Stay away from me."

  I was shocked, to say the least, but even more shocked at what happened next. The asshole on the ground had the nerve to start his response with, "Bitch, I'll do whatever I want—"

  That was all he got out before the woman aimed the gun between his legs and pulled the trigger. The blast of the gun was deafening, but the young woman barely flinched and the recoil of the weapon didn't knock on her ass like I would've expected. Asshole was surprised too because he began screaming. The bullet hadn’t hit his balls, though it had been pretty damn close. I was beginning to suspect that had been intentional.

  "You fucking—" the man yelled before another bullet slammed into the ground between his legs. "Okay, okay!" Asshole cried out as he waved his hands frantically. "I'm sorry, Jolene! I'm sorry."

  The woman, Jolene, moved to his side but kept the gun pointed at him… at his balls, anyway. She didn't say a word and both Asshole and I hung there for several beats, each waiting to see what she'd do next. Admittedly, I was in more than a little awe of her.

  Jolene waved the gun just a little, but Asshole was smart enough to read the silent message. He tried to get to his feet, but after several attempts gave up and ended up crawling on his hands and knees to his truck. Jolene kept the weapon trained on him until he managed to pull himself into the cab of the vehicle and drive off. Only then did the reality of her state become clear. Just as the taillights disappeared into the darkness, Jolene's hand began to shake violently and then she crumpled to the ground. I managed to catch her by the arm to keep her knees from slamming into the rough earth, but as soon as she was able to, she pulled her arm free of my hold.

  Sobs began erupting from her throat as the adrenaline that had been sustaining her for so long began to drain from her system. I wanted to offer her comfort, but I didn't know how. I wasn't really a comfort kind of guy. But it wasn't like I could just leave her sitting there in the dirt by herself. So I lowered myself to a crouch in front of her with every intention of asking her if there was someone I could call on her behalf, but before I could open my mouth, she was lifting the gun and pointing it at me.

  "Wh-who are you?" she demanded to know as her hands shook violently.

  I couldn't help but let out a sigh as I once again found myself staring down the barrel of her gun. So much for the little town of Eden being a much-needed break from the chaos that was my life…

  Chapter 2

  Jolene

  I'd shot someone.

  I still couldn't believe it.

  Okay, I hadn't actually shot someone, but I’d shot at them. How many times had I told my ex-husband that I wasn't capable of shooting any living thing, let alone a human being, when he'd put the gun in my hand and insisted I learn how to properly use it? I wondered what Jackson would think if he could see me now. Hell, he probably wouldn't even recognize me. I barely recognized myself.

  Of course, even without the weapon, my ex probably would've struggled to see any part of the Jolene he'd promised himself to when we’d been nothing more than fresh-faced teenagers. Even now, the dress I was wearing felt all wrong, and if I hadn't been in the middle of interrogating my would-be rescuer, I would've been trying to scrub the makeup off my face because it just wasn't me. Ted had liked it—the dress too.

  But hadn't that been part of the problem?

  Numbness began to creep in my fingers as I clutched the gun in my hands. I needed to focus on the man in front of me, not the man who'd turned out to be so much more than just a self-absorbed player.

  "Who are you?" I demanded.

  A little voice in my head reminded me that this guy had intervened, giving me the time to get to the gun in my purse, but I was way too on edge to even consider lowering the one thing that stood between us. He wasn't a hulk of a guy like Ted, but there was something infinitely more dangerous about him. He was taller than me and sporting his fair share of muscles, but he had the kind of build that was earned from everyday life and not bought and paid for in a fancy gym. There was nothing about him that said he belonged in Eden in any kind of way. His dark hair appeared to be shaved on each side of his head, but there was a section along the top that was long and loose and hung over part of his face. He had a heavy beard with a few flecks of gray here and there. Tattoos covered sections of his arms and I could see that there were letters inked on the knuckles of both hands. I'd never seen any man wear jewelry other than the occasional wedding band or watch, but this guy had several silver rings on his fingers and leather cuffs on both wrists. He also had a couple of earrings in one ear.

  He looked like the kind of guy who knew all about trouble, and Eden was the kind of town that didn't welcome trouble.

  "Zander," was all he said.

  If my throat hadn't been hurting so bad, I would've laughed at his lack of a real answer. The whole thing was surreal and all I really wanted to do was wake up in my bed with a book lying open on my chest and my son pressed up against my side as he slept.

  "Where's Pete?" I asked. The man was only a handful of inches from me, so I could see that he wasn't reacting with any kind of concern to the gun I had trained on him. Maybe he was so comfortable because he knew he could disarm me. Or maybe he thought after taking shots at Ted's privates that I wouldn't pull the trigger again. If it had been a normal night, maybe that would've been true. But nothing about tonight had been normal. Nothing about being in this place, in this situation, was normal for me—boring, frumpy, starting-to-show-her-age me.

  "In bed, I imagine," the stranger responded. No, Zander… his name was Zander.

  Good Lord, Jolene, what are you doing?

  It was a good question. One I didn't have an answer for. The last thing I should be thinking about was the guy’s name.

  "That doesn't answer my question. Who are you?"

  The man had the audacity to climb to his feet without asking me if it was okay first. So yeah, he wasn't the least bit worried about the gun.

  "I'm helping Pete out for a few days," Zander responded. He was silent for a moment and then added, "Jolene." I’d heard my own name said in dozens of ways and by countless people in my lifetime, but I could honestly say that the way Zander said it was different… very different. In fact, it almost sounded like… like… like a caress. I felt an uncomfortable tightening in my belly as heat snaked throughout my entire body. The sensation was unfamiliar, but I wasn't completely clueless. But the idea that I could be attracted to this guy was ridiculous and I attributed my physical reaction to the toll the evening’s events had taken on me.

  "What do you mean you're helping him out?" I asked. I still had the gun on Zander, but he didn't pay it any attention as he turned around and took a few steps away from me. I watched in surprise as he lifted my purse off the ground. When he started grabbing the contents that had spilled out of the bag during my effort to re
move the gun, I practically yelled, "Leave that!"

  He didn't, of course, and when he got the last item, it was all I could do to not groan in embarrassment as I saw what it was.

  Zander took his time studying the object in his hand. I should've used the opportunity to scramble to my feet, but my brain had decided now was a good time to take in the man's broad back, tapered waist, and tight…

  "Pete needed some help, he asked me, I agreed."

  My eyes were still on Zander's backside when he turned around. My addled mind had managed to grasp the fact that he'd spoken, but it was failing to tell my eyes to look anywhere but straight ahead of me. That meant that a good fifteen seconds went by before the man had to clear his throat to actually get my attention.

  "What?" I asked, completely lost. I'd even lowered the gun so it was pointed at the ground. I didn't bother raising it again because I figured the guy had had plenty of opportunities to disarm me… like while I'd been staring at his gorgeous ass.

  I mentally berated myself for both the inappropriate thoughts and using the word "ass" to describe that part of his anatomy. I could practically hear my mom laying into me not only for screwing things up with Ted, but for my vulgarity.

  "I didn't know Pete was hiring," I murmured for lack of anything better to say.

  "He's not," Zander said. He suddenly reached his hand out to me. Before I could think better of it, I handed him the gun. Only after I put it in his hand did I wonder why I’d done that. It was my gun. And while I didn't think I was in any danger anymore, I couldn’t say that I was one hundred percent sure. And I’d just given up the only protection I'd had going for me. What in the world had I been thinking?