Freed, p.1
Freed, page 1
Freed
Steel Brothers Saga: Book Eighteen
HELEN HARDT
This book is an original publication of Waterhouse Press.
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.
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Copyright © 2021 Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Design by Waterhouse Press, LLC
Cover Photographs: Shutterstock
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All Rights Reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic format without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Chapter Fifty-Three
Chapter Fifty-Four
Epilogue
Continue reading the Steel Brothers Saga with Book Nineteen
Message from Helen Hardt
Author’s Note
Also By Helen Hardt
Acknowledgments
About Helen Hardt
For my editor, Scott Saunders. Thank you for your brilliant guidance and for your enthusiasm for the Steels. This series is so much better with your input!
Prologue
Ashley
I park the car, grab the backpack and Penny’s leash, and walk to the Syrah vineyards. The harvesting tools sit at the foot of one of the rows. About half of the Syrah has been harvested. I walk to the little shed Dale showed me that first night.
Of course the shed is locked. I didn’t expect it to be open. I don’t need Dale’s tent and sleeping bag. I won’t be here long.
But I need to be here. I need to be here with Penny. And with Dale.
I look toward the mountains, where the sun set an hour ago. Dale is somewhere up there. Alone.
He didn’t even take his dog.
“Let’s sit, girl.” I plunk onto the ground.
If I sit, if I touch this ground that he finds so hallowed, maybe I’ll understand why he left. Maybe I’ll understand that thing inside him that he can’t share with me.
Maybe…
Penny lies down next to me, and her body against mine is a warm comfort. I rub my arms to ease the chill.
Dale told me to bring a jacket that first night. Why didn’t I bring one tonight? The weather was warm today, but nights are a different story. At least I’m wearing long sleeves.
I grab the backpack and open it. I pull out a bottle of water and pour some into a bowl for Penny. She eagerly takes a drink. I take a drink from the bottle myself, letting the water coat my dry throat.
I won’t cry.
I’ve cried enough tears for Dale Steel.
I gave him all of me. My body, my heart, my soul.
I take another drink and then look up at the sky. So many stars! If possible, I think more are visible tonight than the first night here with Dale.
Except that I was so consumed by Dale that night… His enthralling red-wine voice. His blond perfection. His dark countenance.
I hardly noticed the stars.
Dale still consumes me, but at least I can see the stars now. They’re bright and dazzling, and they seem to twinkle. Ha! There’s truth in that song from my childhood, “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
“You like those stars, Pen?”
She’s not looking at the stars, of course. Her eyes are closed, her head resting on my thigh. Such a sweet pup.
She loves her daddy. If I let her, would she lead me to Dale? How far into the mountains has he gone? I’ve no doubt Penny could find him, but I won’t put her through that. Who knows how long it would take? I’m not exactly a backwoods type of girl.
I sigh and pull the bottle of wine I packed out of the backpack. “Let’s have a toast,” I say to Penny.
I uncork the bottle and pour a glass.
“Something’s missing.” I pull the votive candle out of the pack. “Candlelight would be nice, don’t you think?”
Yeah, I’m talking to a dog. She seems to understand me though. She licks my hand at the mention of candlelight. I take that as agreement.
I strike a match and light the votive inside its crystal holder. Lovely. The candlelight flickers through the glass, casting diamonds on the ground and vines.
“If only I had a cigarette now,” I say to Penny. Then I force out a laugh. I don’t smoke. I’ve never smoked. Though I wouldn’t say no to a joint right about now. I gave that up years ago, but sometimes a little herb helps when your world is imploding.
This is a lovely place. Peaceful and tranquil, especially at night, when no one else is around. I understand why Dale finds solace here. What I don’t understand is why he won’t let me provide what he needs.
“What do you have that I don’t?” I ask the vines.
I stop then and I actually listen. As if I truly think they might answer me.
The only response I get is a soft breeze that makes me rub at my upper arms once more.
I sit for a few more minutes, waiting for the vines to say to me what they say to Dale when he’s here. To reveal those secrets that give him peace.
To reveal Dale to me.
But as they did the last time I came here, the vines stay silent. They keep Dale’s secrets.
I love him. I love him so damned much.
But I don’t know how to be with him. Clearly I’m not fulfilling his needs.
“Fuck this.” I stand, knocking over the votive holder. “Shit.” I quickly pick it up and blow out the candle. Then I let it cool for a few minutes before I throw it into the backpack. I pour my undrunk wine onto the ground, recork the bottle, and pack everything up.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say to Penny. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
I take hold of Penny’s leash and lead her back to the car.
Where we drive back to Dale’s…alone.
Chapter One
Dale
My second night alone in the wilderness, I awaken in the early morning, chills racking my body.
I wanted aloneness—complete aloneness—but at the moment, I wish I’d brought Penny along. While this may not be a three-dog night, it’s definitely a one-dog night.
I scramble out of my zero-degree bag and grab my flask of Peach Street. I love my wine, but backpacking and camping alone in the mountains necessitates something a little stronger for the occasional cold snap.
I unscrew the lid and take a drink.
Warm spice and smoke coat my throat. Yes, that’s better.
But then—
Everything races back.
My birth father. He’s dead now—gone on to a better place, if such a place actually exists. I never believed in hell, but I hope now more than ever that a place of eternal damnation exists for Floyd Jolly—a man who sold his two young sons into sexual slavery for five grand.
Five fucking grand.
I shake my head.
Five grand means nothing to me. It’s like twenty bucks to the average person. I have more money to my name than I could spend in five lifetimes.
But what if I didn’t?
Would I be desperate enough to…?
I shake my head vehemently as I screw the lid back on my flask. No one is here. No one can see me shaking my head. No one can see the look of utter disgust and nausea on my face or the bitter bile inside me as I think about what my birth father did.
Never.
Never would I be so desperate as to sell another human being—let alone a child of my body—into the horror that Donny and I lived through.
& nbsp; And we were two of the lucky ones.
Most either died during “training” or were sold to the highest bidder, never to be seen or heard from again.
Donny and I were rescued—rescued by Dad and Uncle Ryan.
Not only did Dad rescue us, he then adopted us. Brought us into his family. Made us Steels and heirs to a megafortune.
For so many years, I wondered why he did. Why he, a newlywed with a biological child on the way, would take in two broken little boys.
Only recently did I learn the truth.
Dad went through something similar. He didn’t go into detail when he told me, and I’m not sure I want him to. How can I imagine my father—my strong, loving, and generous father—enduring even a tenth of what Donny and I went through?
And when I have to think about Dad’s ordeal, I have to think about—
I have to think about the ugliest, most horrific thing I ever did in my young life. I was ten years old, and I—
I shake my head again. More vehemently this time, enough that I almost feel my brain sloshing between my ears. Those thoughts have no place in my world.
I’ve left them buried so deep for so long…
But now…
Now they’re threatening to emerge.
No. Not emerge.
Erupt.
Detonate like a bomb that has lain dormant for eternity, but now the fuse is lit…
I thought I was in control. I let my love for Ashley out, and the love seemed to override the hate.
But the hate for my birth father has awakened the hate for myself.
The hate I bear for something I did all those years ago.
The hate that brings out the darkness in me—the darkness that was always there but is now too much to endure.
Even my love for Ashley can’t fix this.
I was a fool to think it ever could.
I let the chills overtake me as I open my flask and take another sip.
It doesn’t help this time.
It doesn’t help because I don’t deserve warmth.
I could leave the security of my tent and start a small fire.
That would help.
But I can’t.
I deserve the darkness. I deserve the cold.
I don’t even deserve the heat of hell.
I wake at sunrise. Already, the air has warmed, and I’m no longer shivering. I scramble out of my sleeping bag, put on a parka and shoes, and leave the tent. I take a quick piss and settle down to build a small fire. I warm my hands for a few minutes above the flame, and then I pull out my French press. I need coffee.
Though I use a drip coffeemaker at home, coffee made in my French press while I’m alone in the mountains tastes better than any coffee in the universe. Even my mother’s—the strongest, most flavorful coffee ever—can’t compare to the coffee I press myself when I’m alone outside, surrounded by the beauty of the mountains.
But something wants to destroy this beauty.
I sniff. The smell of forest fire. For a moment, I thought the smoggy air was just the fog of morning, but it’s not.
Fire.
Colorado has fires every year, so this isn’t unexpected.
Except the smell is strong.
Very close.
I’ve ventured into the mountains, away from home. Away from my vineyards. That’s what I needed to deal with my father’s confession.
Something percolates in my mind, though—something I don’t want to face.
This fire is closer than it should be.
It’s close to me.
But it’s closer to my vineyards.
I’m not sure how I know this. I’m not a human compass.
I just know.
Those vineyards are a part of me, and I know.
“Fuck,” I say aloud. I press my coffee hurriedly and pour it into a thermos. So much for my time alone to deal with yet another shitty piece of my life.
I have to leave this place. I quickly put out my fire, which I should never have lit in the first place. Open flames are discouraged during fire season. Sometimes the government issues a burn ban, though they haven’t yet this year.
The fire I’m smelling could be the one that changes that.
I pack up my gear as quickly as I can as the scent of the fire grows stronger. To the west, gray smoke rises.
To the west.
Steel Acres is to the west.
The vineyards are to the west.
Ashley is to the west.
I strap my pack to my back and take a long sip of coffee from the thermos.
I will save the day.
Even if I have to walk through fire to do it.
Chapter Two
Ashley
Penny wakes me up at five a.m. by licking my face.
I open my eyes, and though this is my second morning here waking without Dale, it takes a minute to acclimate myself. Right. I’m at Dale’s. Taking care of Penny while he’s… I have no idea where he is. Camping? The foothills? The mountains?
I know only that he’s not here and he’s not in the Syrah vineyards, where Penny and I were two evenings ago.
I rise and wrap myself in a robe. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I pad out to the kitchen and let Penny out. Then I prepare her morning meal from the mixture in the refrigerator. Only a day’s worth left. What then? In the pantry, I find a bag of high-end kibble. Good. That will work until I can make Penny something tastier and more nutritious.
Which also means a trip to the grocery store in town. Dale didn’t say how long he’d be gone, and I have to feed myself. I suppose I can always eat at the main house with Talon and Jade, but…
I sigh. Now what?
It’s only five thirty, and I’m wide awake. I let Penny back in, and she gobbles up her food. Dale likes to start at six or seven in the morning, so what the heck? I’ll shower, dress, and head to the vineyards. It’s still harvest, after all.
Once I’m ready to go, it’s six thirty, and my phone buzzes. It’s Ryan Steel.
“Hello,” I say into the phone.
“Ashley, it’s Ryan. Apparently Dale will be gone a few days.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m staying at his place and taking care of Penny. Did he tell you what he wants me to be working on?”
“No, he didn’t, but don’t you worry. There’s plenty to do.”
“For harvest, yeah.”
“Actually,” he says, “I’m taking you off harvest for now.”
“Oh?” Not that I’m upset by his decision. Harvesting is difficult work, and I still haven’t seen a lot of the winemaking process.
Ryan clears his throat. “We’re watching a new fire on the western slope. Our northern vineyards are directly in its path.”
I gasp. The northern vineyards? The Syrah…
No, not Dale’s Syrah.
“We’re not worried yet,” Ryan says. “We’re really good about removing dead vegetation, and we keep fuel breaks up year-round.”
Fuel breaks? Right. I know about fuel breaks. I’ve just never had to think about them, living in the city. I feel hot, and I see red. All red and orange and flaming as I discuss the possibility of Dale’s beloved vines going up in smoke.
“This can’t happen,” I hear myself saying.
“Nothing has happened yet,” Ryan says. “This is Colorado. It’s not the first season we’ve had to outwit a fire, and it won’t be the last. We bring in the best experts, and we get it done.”
