B.J. Daniels - Unforgiven

Under Montana’s big sky, two lovers will find their way back to one another…if an unsolved murder doesn’t pull them apart forever….

In Big Timber, Montana, land and family is everything. So when Destry Grant’s brother is accused of killing Rylan West’s sister, high school sweethearts Destry and Ryan leave their relationship behind in order to help their families recover from tragedy.

Years later, Destry is dedicated to her ranch and making plans for the future. Plans that just might include reuniting with the love of her life…until her brother returns to clear his name and the secrets of the past threaten her one chance at happiness.

Rylan is done denying his feelings for Destry. But when clues begin to link her brush with death to his sister’s murder, will discovering the truth finally grant them their chance at love or turn them against one another for good?

“I’m still the same man you fell in love with.”

She looked into his eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Like hell.” He dragged her to him with one arm around her waist. His mouth dropped to hers in a demanding kiss that stole her breath. She could feel the thunder of his heart against hers. Wrapped in his strong arms, she lost herself in the kiss. She felt the passion, the chemistry that had always made her pulse pound. The kiss fired that old aching need for this man she couldn’t have.

It swept her up, made her forget for a moment the gulf that lay between them. He drew her closer, pressing his body to hers, deepening the kiss. With desire burning through her, all she wanted was for him to sweep her up in his arms and carry her upstairs to her bed.

Unforgiven

B.J. Daniels

www.millsandboon.co.uk

I had only sold four books when my former newspaper managing editor convinced me to quit a job I loved to follow my dream. That day, I promised to dedicate my first single-title book to him. So this book is for you, Bill Wilke. Neither of us could know back then what a huge favor you did for me.

Contents

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

Epilogue

CHAPTER ONE

THE WIND HOWLED DOWN the Crazy Mountains, rocking the pickup as Sheriff Frank Curry pulled to the side of the narrow dirt road. He hadn’t been to this desolate spot in years. Like a lot of other residents of Beartooth, he avoided coming this way.

The afternoon sun slanted down through the dense pines, casting a long shadow over the barrow pit and the small cross nearly hidden among the weeds. The cross, though weathered from eleven years of harsh Montana weather, stood unyielding against the merciless wind that whipped the summer-dried weeds around it.

After a moment, Frank climbed out of the truck, fighting the gusts as he waded into the ditch. Someone had erected the wooden cross, though no one knew who. Back then the cross had been white. Years of blistering hot summers and fierce, long snow-laden winters had peeled away the paint, leaving the wood withered and gray.

The brisk fall wind kicked up a dust devil in the road. Frank shut his eyes as it whirled past him, pelting him with dirt. The image he’d spent years trying to banish flashed before him. He saw it again, the young woman’s broken body lying in the barrow pit where it had been discarded like so much garbage.

The lonesome moan of the wind in the tops of the thick wall of pines was the only sound on this remote rural road. That night, standing here as the coroner loaded the body, he’d sworn he would find Ginny West’s killer if it was the last thing he ever did.

Now, he looked again at the cross that marked this lonely place where Ginny had died. The wind had plastered a dirty plastic grocery bag against its base.

Feeling the crippling weight of that vow and his failure, Frank crouched down and jerked the bag free. As he rose to leave, he heard the sound of a motor and looked up to see a small plane fly over.

* * *

RYLAN WEST LAY DAZED in the dirt. He’d lost his hat, gotten the air knocked clean out of him and was about to be trampled by a horse if he didn’t move—and quickly.

To add insult to injury, as he lay on the ground staring up at all that blue sky, he saw Destry Grant’s red-and-white Cessna 182 fly over. He didn’t have to see the woman behind the controls to know it was her plane. Hell, he could call up Destry Grant’s face from memory with no trouble at all and did so with frustrating regularity even though he hadn’t laid eyes on her in more than ten years.

In the past few weeks that he’d been home, he’d made a point of staying out of Destry’s way. He told himself he wasn’t ready to see her. But a part of him knew that was pure bull. He felt guilty and he should have. The last time they’d seen each other, he’d made her a promise he hadn’t kept.

Not that anyone could blame him under the circumstances. Eleven years ago he’d left Beartooth, Montana, joined the rodeo and hadn’t looked back. That is, until a few weeks ago when he’d grown tired of being on the road, riding one rodeo after another until they’d become a blur of all-night drives across country.

He had awakened one morning and realized there was only one place he wanted to be. Home. He’d loaded up his horse and saddle, hooked on to his horse trailer and headed for Montana. He’d yearned for familiar country, for the scent of pine coming off the fresh snow on top of the Crazy Mountains, for his family. And maybe for Destry, as foolish as that was.

He swore now as he listened to the plane circle the W Bar G, hating that Destry was so close and yet as beyond his reach as if she were on the moon. That hadn’t been the case when they were kids, he thought with a groan. Back then he couldn’t have been happier about the two of them growing up on neighboring ranches. They’d been best friends until they were seventeen and then they’d been a whole lot more.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

Rylan blinked as he looked over on the corral fence to see his younger brother Jarrett glaring down at him. To his relief, he noticed that Jarrett had hold of the unbroken stallion’s halter rope. The horse was snorting and stomping, kicking up dust, angry as an old wet hen. His brother looked just as mad.

“Nothin’s wrong with me,” Rylan said with a groan as he got to his feet. At least physically, that was.

“If Dad finds out that you tried to ride that horse...” Jarrett shook his head and glanced toward the sky and Destry’s plane. His brother let out a curse as if everything was now suddenly crystal clear.

Rylan grabbed the reins from his brother, hoping Jarrett had the good sense not to say anything about him trying to ride one of the wild horses their father had brought home from the Wyoming auction—or about Destry. If he and Jarrett had that particular discussion, more than likely one or both of them would end up with a black eye.

He knew how his family felt about the Grants. Hell, he felt the same way. Even after all these years, just thinking about what had happened still hurt too badly. Just as thinking about Destry did. But as hard as he tried to put her out of his mind, he couldn’t do it.