Avenger (Doms of Mountain Bend Book 2) Read online

  Copyright © 2021 by BJ Wane

  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 author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editors: Kate Richards & Nanette Sipes

  Cover Design & Formatting: Joe Dugdale (sylv.net)

  Published by Blue Dahlia 2020

  Doms of Mountain Bend:

  AVENGER

  Book 2

  BY

  BJ WANE

  Disclaimer

  This contemporary romantic suspense contains adult themes such as power exchange and sexual scenes. Please do not read if these offend you.

  Prologue

  Houston

  “This won’t take long, Trey.” Constance opened the back door of the Bentley, vibrating with anger and frustration.

  “No problem, ma’am. I’ll wait right here for you.”

  Reaching over the seat, she gave her loyal driver/bodyguard’s shoulder a squeeze. What would she do without Trey’s support? “Thanks. I just need to set this person straight on a few things.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  He was always ready to jump to her defense, a loyal employee and companion. If she dared to risk her marriage with an affair, she would thank him by letting him appease the lust she often saw in his gaze as he looked at her, but there was no way she could get away with a tryst, especially one right under her husband, Blake’s watchful eyes.

  “I appreciate the offer, but I can handle her. Be right back.”

  She slid her legs out of the car and stood, casting a look of disdain at the neighborhood diner, a run-of-the-mill place she normally wouldn’t be caught dead frequenting. The audacity of that woman contacting her again after she’d turned her away once was almost too much to bear. It had taken Constance years of sacrifice and careful planning to finally achieve her goal of marrying for enough money to get anything she could ever want, and now this woman’s resurrection of her past threatened everything.

  After Rose Flynn had contacted her, revealing her knowledge that Constance was her adopted daughter’s birth mother, she had looked her up and now recognized her seated at a booth even before Rose waved her over. Prepared to give her a larger piece of her mind this time, Constance schooled her expression into a haughty sneer as she strode across the stained linoleum floor.

  Rose’s face changed from hopeful to crestfallen by the time Constance reached the booth.

  “How dare you contact me again after I specifically told your lawyer no.” Her voice shook with fury at the woman’s gall. Wasn’t it bad enough she’d managed to uncover the truth after she’d taken so many precautions to erase any connection between her and the result of making the biggest mistake of her life?

  “Please.” Rose gestured to the other side of the table, the wobble in her voice leaving Constance unmoved. “If you could just hear me out, let me tell you about Poppy.”

  Constance’s tone cut as sharp as her hand slicing through the air. “I have no interest in hearing about your daughter’s woes, and I’m not about to risk my thirty-year marriage on a mistake I made when I was barely eighteen.”

  Translation – she wasn’t about to risk the wealthy, elite status she’d enjoyed since marrying into one of Houston’s richest families, not even for the child she’d given birth to thirty-two years ago.

  “Then, just tell me who her father was. Maybe he has other children who are willing to help.”

  Her heart constricted, surprising Constance with the quick stab of pain after all these years. She might have started her pursuit of Michael Connelly for altruistic gain after having been raised in poverty, but she’d made the terrible mistake of letting herself fall for him and his lies. He’d waited until she was too far along in her pregnancy to get an abortion before dumping her, revealing he was an even colder bastard than she was a conniving bitch.

  “Don’t bother. He never wanted a child, so I doubt he made that mistake twice. If you even attempt to contact me again, for any reason, you’ll hear from my lawyer, and he’ll eat yours for lunch. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, on that point, but I’ll never understand how people like you can live with yourselves, how you can even sleep at night.”

  Constance placed her hand on the scarred tabletop, her ring finger adorned with a large, gaudy diamond that glittered under the fluorescent lighting. She curled her sculpted lips and drawled, “After I indulge in a glass of Chateau Lafite Rothschild and slip between my silk designer sheets, trust me, I have no problem. I can see you think I’m a royal bitch, and you’re correct. Contact me again, and I’ll show you just what a bitch I can be, starting with a lawsuit for libel. I don’t think your husband’s meager teacher’s pension could handle that, do you?”

  “We won’t give up trying to help our daughter. We found you; we’ll find him.”

  Constance didn’t understand the determined glint in the other woman’s eyes or her firm voice. Then again, she’d only cared about one person in her life, and he left her brokenhearted, nine months pregnant with his child, and she’d taken care never to let anyone matter again.

  Confident Rose wouldn’t try, or succeed if she did, Constance replied, “Knock yourself out, just don’t involve me.” She straightened, pivoted on her Vuitton heels, and strode out with her head held at a high, regal angle.

  Trey was standing on the curb, holding the door open for her when she exited the diner. She gave him a beaming smile and patted his broad chest, the rapid beat of his heart under her hand making her blood pump with satisfaction. “All taken care of. Come on. I’ll treat you to a nightcap on the way home.”

  His eyes slid toward the diner window then back at Constance. “If you’re sure there’s nothing I can do to help, then I’d like that.”

  “I’m sure.”

  She didn’t know what he meant by helping, but she suspected, as an ex-Marine, he was talking about more of a physical threat than her verbal ones. She wouldn’t hesitate to use everything within her financial power to bring down the Flynns if they continued to come to her for help in providing a suitable bone-marrow transplant for their daughter. Strangely enough, given her lack of conscience toward the ailing child she’d born, she drew the line at causing either of them physical harm, even if she did enjoy Trey’s devotion and his willingness to come to her defense. Just because her prenuptial agreement kept her from indulging in a crass affair with the hired help didn’t mean she couldn’t relish the lust and overprotectiveness her driver and bodyguard didn’t bother hiding from her.

  Sliding into the luxury car, Constance settled on the leather seat, hoping this was the end to the Flynns’ pursuit of her DNA.

  Rose Flynn watched the elegant woman who had given birth to her beloved daughter walk out of the diner with the same look of disdain she’d worn when entering. Despite the fancy coiffured sweep of her blonde hair that was nothing like Poppy’s fiery curls, she had seen the resemblance in the woman’s bright-blue eyes, small, straight nose, full lips, and tall, slender build. Poppy’s lanky body was still recovering from the bouts of chemotherapy her diagnosis of Hodgkin’s lymphoma had required, but her girl never let anything keep her down for long.

  A tightness clenched around Rose’s heart as she thought of the pain and illness Poppy had suffered these past months, and the one rejection of new bone marrow from a donor needed to replace stem cells destroyed by the harsh treatments. The donor cells would have also helped find and kill future cancer cells, something she would have to watch for the rest of her life. The daughter of her heart had been a delightful handful to raise, smart as a whip,
constantly flitting from one thing to another, barely taking a breath in between, sometimes without thinking it through. Rose and her husband, Steve, adored her, would do anything for her, including contacting this cold woman to beg for her help.

  Rose fought back tears. How could her Poppy have come from anyone that callous and coldhearted? The thought of losing her daughter hurt so much, she was tempted to try blackmail, threaten to go to Constance Mayfield’s husband and risk jail, anything to ensure Poppy lived a long, healthy life. But all that would accomplish was a brief sense of satisfaction from bringing the heartless woman down, since no one could force her to become a donor.

  Beth, Rose’s friend and owner of the diner walked up. “What a bitch.” Reaching over, she squeezed Rose’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, hon. Poppy is young, and cancer-free right now, and that woman will get what’s coming to her someday.”

  Rose looked around the crowded diner, noting the sympathetic glances from friends in the neighborhood who knew Poppy, and recalling the angry glares they leveled on Constance Mayfield’s back as she walked out. Tidbits of the woman’s visit to the diner would seep out and make the circles, and that would have to suffice for payback.

  “I doubt it. Those types rarely do. As long as there’s always a likelihood of the cancer returning, I won’t rest easy until she has a successful transplant.” She fretted just as much over what her unpredictable daughter would do now she’d been told the odds of another nonfamilial donation ending any different than the first one weren’t in her favor. At least the staff at MD Anderson refused to give up, which helped.

  “But time’s on her side, so let’s think positive.”

  “That’s what her doctors told her and us. Thanks, Beth.” She gave her friend a look of gratitude then sipped her iced tea.

  “That’s what friends are for, hon. Are you going to tell her about this meeting?”

  Rose nodded, sighing. “I won’t keep it a secret from her. She won’t like it, but she’ll understand.”

  “She’s a good girl. Give me a minute, and I’ll box up Steve’s cherry pie and add a piece of Poppy’s favorite.”

  “Yes, she’s the best,” Rose whispered as Beth went to get the desserts. She wouldn’t give up her search for a suitable donor, regardless of yet another disappointment.

  ****

  “You didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t.” As soon as Poppy opened her front door and saw her mother’s face, she knew what she’d done. Standing back, she beckoned her inside. “Come in then tell me.”

  Rose entered Poppy’s apartment with slumped shoulders, handing her a small plastic bag from Beth’s Place on the corner of her parents’ block. She’d grown up walking down to the diner to hook up with friends for a burger and loved Beth’s homemade cooking. “Is this supposed to appease me?” She held up the bag.

  “It’s chocolate pecan.”

  “You do know how to get to me.” She held her breath as Rose walked into the living area and her gaze zeroed in on the suitcases. “Don’t be upset, Mom.”

  “Eat your pie and tell me your plans,” Rose returned, her voice resigned.

  This was one of those rare times Poppy felt guilty about her constant desire for change, to explore something new after she’d gotten too comfortable with her current job, or relationship, or just the day-to-day routine. Hence, three degrees and two certifications, five relationships that never went further than a few months of dating, and an often-depleted bank account from taking a trip as soon as she made enough money to afford where she wanted to go next. Heck, she even ended up getting bored with sex after the first few nights burning up the sheets.

  Grabbing a fork in the kitchen, she padded over to the sofa and took a seat next to her mother, who, at sixty-eight, was showing the strains Poppy’s health had put her through. She gently patted her hand. “Mom, I’m fine, no cancer right now. I may as well enjoy what I can while I’m feeling good. Who knows, I may be one of the lucky few who doesn’t relapse.”

  “You need those stem cells, even without the cancer.”

  “And she refused, again. After learning she must have paid someone to put a deceased woman’s name on my birth certificate, you shouldn’t be surprised. I’m still irked you and Dad spent so much money finding that out.”

  “I’d say we’re lucky a nurse who was working in that rural hospital was still there and was an avid follower of the rich and elite, but having her recognize Mrs. Mayfield all those years ago from newspaper wedding photos turned out to be a godsend.”

  “Quit beating yourself up over her rejection. I’m willing to try another donor when they get a possible match.” She opened the Styrofoam box and almost drooled at the decadent slice of creamy dark-chocolate pie topped with nuts. “Share this with me.”

  “No, you need the calories, not me.”

  Poppy shot her mother a quick grin. “Hey, don’t you know the skinny, anorexic look is in?”

  In a spontaneous move so like her, Rose reached over and hugged Poppy really quickly then released her, sitting back to point at the pie. “Eat and tell me where you’re off to this time.”

  Shoveling in a large forkful, she hummed in pleasure of the creamy concoction and swallowed before answering. “Idaho. It should be nice going north this time of year, and I got a gig managing a sheep ranch.”

  Shaking her head, Rose’s smile turned rueful. “Only you would jump from corporate management to tending sheep on some farm.”

  “Hey, it’s about time I used my degree in animal husbandry, and it’s a ranch, not a farm, or so I was told by Old Man Sanders, my new boss. God, this is good.” She released a throaty moan as she took the last bite.

  “Glad you like it. Please tell me you’re not going to call him that to his face.”

  Standing, she picked up the empty box and carried it to the trash in the kitchen, saying over her shoulder, “It’s how he referred to himself and informed me that’s what everyone calls him. My last day at the bank is Friday, and I plan on leaving Saturday morning. How about if I take you and Dad out for dinner?”

  “We’d like that.”

  Poppy padded over to Rose and walked her to the door where she gave Poppy a kiss on the cheek. Another twinge of guilt tightened her abdominal muscles as her mother tried to keep her face averted enough to hide the sadness and worry her health, and now this trip, caused Rose. Poppy couldn’t help who she was, and her parents had never tried to suppress or discourage her need for constant change.

  Laying a hand on her mother’s arm as she opened the door, Poppy sought to put her mind at ease by reminding Rose of her flighty nature. “I’ll get tired of smelly sheep and this craggy boss before you know it, just like the other flash-in-the-pan jobs I took for a break from the tedium. And I always call every day.”

  “I don’t bother telling you not to because I love it, and you. See you Friday. I want to go to Da Marco’s.”

  “Of course you do.” The fancy Italian restaurant was one of Houston’s most popular, and most expensive. “I’ll make reservations.”

  Closing the door, Poppy surveyed her half-filled suitcases and thought of all she still needed to do between now and Friday. The busy schedule would help keep her mind off her parents’ worry and the despair the wicked witch had caused her mother. She’d never been curious about her birth mother, not even after she’d gotten sick. Rose was the one who insisted they seek a court order to open the sealed adoption records, citing urgent, exigent circumstances. Tom Broman, their family lawyer and friend for as long as Poppy could remember, had come through for them, finding a sympathetic judge and producing the name Cassandra Jacobs as her birth mother. It had taken a considerable amount of money toward further investigating to discover the lengths to which the woman had gone to keep her identity a secret.

  To say Constance Mayfield was displeased when Tom contacted her and told her the situation was an understatement. When Poppy heard the woman had threatened her parents with a massive lawsuit, she’d put her foot down
and insisted they let it go. Her father had agreed, the worry on his lined face evident. She thought her mother had accepted that dead end but apparently not.

  Now that she knew her birth mother’s identity, she wanted even less to do with her than before, which she never thought possible. She found the very idea she carried the same DNA as that money-grubbing, greedy bitch abhorrent. Rose and Steve exuded the true meaning of parenthood, and parental love, and Poppy would never accept any overtures from the vessel who had born her. It would have been hard enough to willingly accept more of her DNA, but she figured she could suck up that much if it meant saving her life. Maybe.

  Tabling any further thoughts on her health, or possible future health issues, she put off doing more packing to dig through her college textbooks and brush up on the chapters dealing with sheep raising and care.

  ****

  Idaho

  “Damn it, Mom, why are you seeing him again? Your face hasn’t healed from last week.”

  Dakota glared at his mother, clenching his hands to keep from plowing his fist into the thin wall of their cheap apartment in frustration and anger. He didn’t care about anyone except his mother, and it was bad enough watching how hard she toiled cleaning people’s houses, but he couldn’t stomach it when she got desperate for money and let herself believe Vincent’s lies.

  “I’m sorry, hon, I really am. Please don’t be mad at me. The car insurance is due, and I lost two houses this month. He pays well, and, most of the time, he’s not so bad.” She fingered the yellow-green puffiness under her shining black gaze. “I hate that I’ve disappointed you again.”

  “Don’t cry!” Panicked, he rushed forward and put his arm around her slender shoulders, already standing a head taller than her and not even fourteen yet. Someday, he vowed, he would be big enough and old enough to give that man a taste of his own medicine. “Sit down and I’ll finish dinner.” He tried easing her onto the worn sofa in front of the television that hadn’t worked in over a month, but she didn’t budge. “What?”