Wounds That Won’t Heal Read online

  Wounds That Won’t Heal

  Calle J. Brookes

  Lost River Lit Publishing, L.L.C.

  Contents

  Also by Calle J. Brookes

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Chapter 77

  Chapter 78

  Chapter 79

  Chapter 80

  Chapter 81

  Chapter 82

  Chapter 83

  Chapter 84

  Chapter 85

  Chapter 86

  Chapter 87

  Chapter 88

  Chapter 89

  Chapter 90

  Chapter 91

  Chapter 92

  Chapter 93

  Chapter 94

  Chapter 95

  Chapter 96

  Chapter 97

  Chapter 98

  Chapter 99

  Chapter 100

  Chapter 101

  Chapter 102

  Chapter 103

  Chapter 104

  Chapter 105

  Chapter 106

  Chapter 107

  Chapter 108

  Chapter 109

  Chapter 110

  Chapter 111

  Chapter 112

  Chapter 113

  Chapter 114

  Chapter 115

  Chapter 116

  Chapter 117

  Chapter 118

  Chapter 119

  Chapter 120

  Chapter 121

  Chapter 122

  Chapter 123

  Chapter 124

  Chapter 125

  Chapter 126

  Chapter 127

  Chapter 128

  Chapter 129

  Chapter 130

  Chapter 131

  Chapter 132

  Chapter 133

  Chapter 134

  Chapter 135

  Chapter 136

  Chapter 137

  Chapter 138

  Chapter 139

  Chapter 140

  Chapter 141

  Chapter 142

  Chapter 143

  Chapter 144

  Chapter 145

  Chapter 146

  Chapter 147

  Chapter 148

  Chapter 149

  Chapter 150

  Epilogue

  Excerpt “Ruining the Rancher”

  Also by Calle J. Brookes

  Other Titles by Calle J. Brookes

  * * *

  Paranormal

  * * *

  DARDANOS Paranormal Romance

  * * *

  Live or Die

  The Blood King

  The Seer’s Strength

  The Warrior’s Woman

  The Healer’s Heart

  Once Wolf Bitten

  Awakening the Demon’s Queen

  The Wolf’s Redemption

  The Wolf God & His Mate

  God of Nightmares

  * * *

  DARDANOS: THE LAQUAZZEANA

  * * *

  A Warrior’s Quest

  Out of the Darkness

  Warrior Blind

  The Witch

  Balance of the Worlds

  The Healer’s Soul

  * * *

  DARDANOS: THE ADRASTOS

  * * *

  The Outcast

  The Forlorn

  The Beloved

  The Betrayed

  * * *

  Romantic Suspense

  * * *

  PAVAD: FBI ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  * * *

  Beginning (Prequel 1)

  Waiting (Prequel 2)

  * * *

  Watching

  Wanting

  Second Chances

  Hunting

  Running

  Redeeming

  Revealing

  Stalking

  Ghosting

  Burning

  Gathering

  Falling

  Hiding

  * * *

  Suspense/Thriller

  * * *

  PAVAD: FBI Case Files #0001

  “Knocked Out”

  PAVAD: FBI Case Files #0002

  “Knocked Down”

  PAVAD: FBI Case Files #0003

  “Knocked Around”

  * * *

  FINLEY CREEK SERIES

  * * *

  TRILOGY ONE

  * * *

  Her Best Friend’s Keeper

  Shelter from the Storm

  The Price of Silence

  * * *

  TRILOGY TWO

  * * *

  If the Dark Wins

  Wounds That Won’t Heal

  * * *

  MASTERSON COUNTY SERIES

  * * *

  Seeking the Sheriff

  Discovering the Doctor

  * * *

  COMING SOON

  * * *

  As the Night Ends (Finley Creek Trilogy 2)

  Seeking (PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense 15)

  Ruining the Rancher (Masterson County)

  Denying the Devil (Masterson County)

  * * *

  Calle J. Brookes is first and foremost a fiction writer. She enjoys crafting paranormal romance and romantic suspense. She reads almost every genre except horror. She spends most of her time juggling family life and writing while reminding herself that she can’t spend all of her time in the worlds found within books. Calle J. loves to be contacted by her readers via email and at www.CalleJBrookes.com.

  * * *

  Calle has several free reads available at CalleJBrookesReads.com

  * * *

  For my grandfather, the best man I have ever known.

  You will be missed.

  Oct. 2015

  * * *

  For my grandmother, who gave m
e the courage to try. Without you and your love of romance, I never would have made it this far.

  Feb. 2016

  * * *

  Sign Up For Calle’s Newsletter to receive

  Updates and exclusive scenes here!

  * * *

  Wounds That Won’t Heal

  * * *

  Calle J. Brookes

  * * *

  Lost River Lit Publishing, L.L.C.

  Springs Valley, Indiana

  Est. 2011

  * * *

  The Lost River Lit Publishing, L.L.C. name and imprint are the sole properties of independent publishers Calle J. Brookes and B.G. Lashbrooks. They cannot be reproduced or used in any manner; nor can any of their publications or designs be used without expressed written permission.

  * * *

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, or locations, is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  * * *

  Copyright © 2017 Calle J. Brookes

  Cover by Lost River Lit Publishing, L.L.C.

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Wounds That Won’t Heal

  * * *

  Finley Creek

  Book 5

  * * *

  FINLEY CREEK

  BOOK 5

  “O what to me my mother’s care,

  The house where I was safe and warm;

  The shadowy blossom of my hair

  Will hide us from the bitter storm.”

  * * *

  -WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS

  1

  Dr. Rafael Holden-Deane followed the directions listed on his phone to the address that had been on the letter he’d received. The neighborhood was nice, but he hadn’t expected to have to show his ID and state his purpose for entering a public street. The guardhouse just beyond the intersection had been surprising, to say the least.

  The hassle pricked his already frayed temper and made him even unhappier about his current situation. He’d expected a business office; something sleeker, more professional than what appeared to be a garage. It was attached to a decently large house that had been well-maintained, but it was still a garage.

  The rest of the neighborhood was a little more upscale, but appeared deserted. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there were security guards driving around. Watching him.

  Rafe rang the doorbell to the house impatiently. No one answered, which just increased his impatience. He had a full schedule of appointments that morning and this was one distraction that he did not need.

  He crumpled the letter in his hand and cursed his own antecedents for a moment. As he waited, and waited. As he rang the doorbell again, and again.

  The garage beckoned and he headed that way before he heard the singing.

  Feminine, and very beautiful.

  He turned toward the sound. He walked in the direction of the back of the house and kept going. The singing got louder. He found the siren bent over a bed of flowers, with earbuds in her ears.

  Rich red hair was pulled back into a bun, and a sweet little rear end was wiggling along to the music in her head.

  Rafe took a moment to appreciate the sight.

  The woman turned, and screamed.

  He grabbed her just before she tripped over the potted plants behind her. Or brought those damned security guards running. “I apologize, miss. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She pulled the earbuds from her ears and jerked out of his arms. “Who are you? What are you doing back here? Where are the security guards?”

  Rafe stepped back. He recognized real fear. He’d lived with it as a constant visual for the last four years. “They allowed me in.”

  “You had to be on a list to get in here.”

  “I heard the singing. Are you Ms. Beck?”

  “Yes—”

  Some of his annoyance returned. He waved the letter between them. “Then you can take this and know that whatever these leeches are wanting, I want nothing to do with them.”

  He thrust the letter into her hands. Light brown eyes widened and her hands came up defensively. As if she expected him to strike her. To hurt her. Rafe stepped back again.

  She looked down and read the letter quickly, eyes widening slightly. “This...you’re...”

  Rafe still had ahold of her with one hand. The skin he touched was incredibly soft. Pale and beautiful, with a light smattering of golden freckles. He dropped his hand quickly. She only came up to his mid-chest—he was a tall man at almost six-seven—and he could probably just scoop her right up. Did she realize how vulnerable of a position she was in? A woman wasn’t always safe even when at home. “And you should really lock your damned gate. Even with those security guards. I could have been anyone coming back here. Don’t you have some sense of self-preservation?”

  * * *

  Jillian Beck stared at the huge man glowering at her for a moment. Was he actually lecturing her, in her own backyard? “Mr. Holden-Deane, I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake. I’m not—”

  “I rarely make mistakes, Ms. Beck. I’ve seen gold-diggers before. All types. Though you don’t look like you’d be the type to get involved in that.” He shot a look at the old shorts she wore and the light flannel shirt she’d removed the sleeves from years ago. The derision wasn’t hard to miss.

  Oh. One of those kinds of men, then. She’d met her fair share of them over the last few years—the medical profession was full of arrogant men. “There is more than one Ms. Beck, you moron. In fact, counting cousins, there are thirteen of us. I think. I’d need to recount after recent marriages. Something I think you should consider. This is my sister Melody. She uses her maiden name professionally, as a safety precaution. I’m Jillian. Her younger sister.”

  He scowled at her. “Then you can deliver the message to your sister. I don’t want anything to do with the people she mentioned in that letter. They’ll need to find their meal-ticket some other way.”

  Jillian thought of the people in that letter needing a meal ticket and she almost doubled over laughing. If there hadn’t been a giant right in front of her, she would have. But men didn’t like to be laughed at—even when they deserved it—and she hadn’t missed the fact that she was alone with this…creature. “Believe me, they don’t need someone like you as a meal-ticket. They do just fine on their own.”

  One of the names on that list was the wealthiest man in St. Louis. The others were his younger sisters and brother. All friends of Jillian’s. And other than the teenaged boy being raised by the eldest sister, fully capable of taking care of themselves.

  “I don’t appreciate being laughed at.”

  Something about his words triggered an immediate hostility in Jillian that she didn’t expect. He reminded her of someone; someone who still gave her cold chills deep in the middle of the night when she was alone and vulnerable. When the nightmares came and the wounds reopened.

  Her hand rose to her neck, where the three-inch scar would always serve as a permanent reminder. That monster had said something similar before he had nearly slit Jillian’s throat ago. Jillian sobered as just how alone with this man she didn’t know she actually was.