Tethered (The Stables Trilogy #2) (17 page)

Tony, though, wasn’t picking up on the air. He’d always been a little too full of himself. “Look, this whore has had more cocks in her than you can count. Stuffed fucking full of them like a Goddamn Thanksgiving turkey. Nasty dudes, too. Bitch likes it rough, she creams at the abuse. Maybe we just turn this into a gang bang and--”

The shot blasted. Maple winced, her ears ringing. The report was so much louder in the small stable space. It took a moment to register Tony’s shrieking.

He was beside her, rolling on the ground and clutching his leg.

Gus looked like he was considering trying to rush J.B. and Reece, but thinking better of it. “What the fuck do you want?” He screamed. “This is
my
vengeance! She tried to murder me! If I can’t do this, then I’m calling the cops on her. I’ve ID’d her face! They have the make and model of her truck and will find it! Connect her to me!” He looked down at Maple, teeth bared. “You’ll rot, you stupid whore.”

Reece started to protest, but J.B. coughed. His one cough froze everyone, such was his presence. His command of every situation.

“How much money for you and your friend--” Tony was still moaning and writhing on the floor, “--to just walk away? No cops. No girl, either. But I’ll pay you what you feel you’re owed. Pain and suffering, or whatever. His medical bills. Tell me a number.”

Gus’s face grew red, his jowls shaking. “I don’t need fucking money! I have money, you asshole! I--”

“You don’t have my kind of money. Now name a sum.”

“Five million dollars,” Gus sneered. Maple’s heart shrank. There was no way J.B. was going to drop five million dollars to keep her out of jail. Not after he’d seen her like that. Heard all the horrible things that she’d done. Gus was naming an impossible sum on purpose.

Hot tears poured down her face. Her fingers dug at the dirt as if she could dig a hole deep enough to climb in and die. Preparing herself for the rejection, Maple tried desperately to build a wall, to shrink inside of herself--

“Done. Reece, help work out the logistics.”

Gus’s jaw dropped and even Tony stopped howling for a moment to stare.

Her own face jerked up. J.B. wasn’t looking at her. The words were there. They’d been spoken. Five million dollars to save her. Her heart should be bursting. Trumpets should be sounding. Her body should be infused with the knowledge that he truly cared for her.

But she could feel it. A divide too insurmountable to cross. A chasm wrenching between them. J.B. had saved her from jail, or something much worse with Gus, but his refusal to look at her, to say anything to her… it spoke volumes.

“I’m your friend, not an accountant.”

But Reece was already putting the gun away. J.B. crossed the stall and slid the bit from her mouth. His thumb brushed away the blood from where the corners of her mouth had split. He scooped Maple up. Despite feeling his rage burn through, her skin imagining the heat of his bitter disappointment in her, she clung to him. Her fingers clasped his shirt tightly, and she buried her face in his chest.

His body heat suffused her, and as the shock and horror of the situation wore off, her eyelids grew heavy, and there was glass behind her eyes.

Maple had suffered before, and this shouldn’t have been different. It was, though. She’d been stronger than before. More sure of herself. Gus and Tony had fractured that to pieces. Any reserves she’d maintained were decimated.

Her body hurt in ways it hadn’t in a long time. Her heart hurt more. Maple shut her eyes and decided forgetting, even for a little while, was all she could handle.

The rattle of the trailer woke her. Maple leaned in the passenger seat of the truck. Despite a rolled blanket that had been used to support her head, her neck twinged in discomfort. The spiky and sparse plants of West Texas flew before her gaze.

She knuckled the sleep from her eyes and sat up, groaning.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Long enough, I reckon, if you’re awake.” His rasp was soft. Cold? The yoke of exhaustion was lifting from her shoulders. It cleared her mind, and that wasn’t a good thing. Maple’s joints creaked and ached from having been tied and hung. The throb in her ribs and stomach as she shifted in her seat made her wince.

The worst injury, perhaps, was the gentle ache between her legs. It was the ache of an orgasm wrenched from her. Stolen, really, by Gus and Tony. Tony’d always had her number, especially at the end. He’d molded her like potter’s clay into what she was today.

That orgasm was seared into her memory. Maybe even into her soul. It was her ultimate betrayal. It was Lilith’s mark on her skin; a tattoo on her bones that read
you’ll never be good enough for him
.

J.B. had accepted her, flawed and wanting. In return, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to come for another man.

Her gaze peeled away from him, moving to her feet. She didn’t deserve to even look at him.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, picking at her fingernails and trying to prepare for the verbal assault she had coming.

Strained, he asked “What the hell for?”

“For Tony. For not telling you about me, I guess. What I’d done.”

“You were running.” Statement, not question.

“Yes,” she whispered. “I was running.”

“He’s an ex.”

“Yes.”

“Did he hurt you?” The threat in J.B.’s voice wasn’t disguised. He’d paid off Gus and Tony, but she suspected if she were to play it up, J.B. might turn the truck around and lay some serious hurt on them.

“I let him. I asked him to.” The words felt like marbles in her mouth, cold and foreign. Something to be spit out.

They drove in silence for a while. It was smothering. Maple had more apologies she felt she should make, and even more questions. But she wasn’t in a position to ask for anything, especially not forgiveness.

When she couldn’t take it, she blurted, “Thank you for saving me. You shouldn’t have.”

The truck slowed but didn’t pull to the side. She dared a glance at his hands. They were gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles threatened to split from under the skin. “Why shouldn’t I have?”

“Five million dollars was too much. I deserved their anger.”

The leather groaned in protest as his hold on the wheel tightened more. “Five million was exorbitant, but it wasn’t too much.”

His words cut her. He was being nice-- too nice. She knew he couldn’t mean it. Five million was more than she’d ever make in five lifetimes, and he’d just signed it over and driven away.

“But--” she wanted to protest but couldn’t. Especially as it crossed her mind that he hadn’t said she didn’t deserve their anger. That meant he agreed with her. She felt sick.

“Look,” he sighed. “It was just under how much I made with the girls this trip. So don’t feel guilty about the money. You helped with those sales.”

Oh! The girls! “They’re all gone?” Maple whipped to look back at the trailer. Silly, because she couldn’t see into it. Stupid, because her neck was still stiff from sleeping in the car.

“Yep.”

Her heart lurched a little, and she realized she’d miss them. There hadn’t been a chance to say goodbye. No real words had been exchanged, but she’d cared for them in such a small, intimate setting. They felt a little like family. Now they were gone.

Maple knew she didn’t deserve happiness. Fate had proven that. But she hoped with all her heart that they found it with their new Masters.

She hadn’t understood until then how much money J.B. made from his pony training alone. He’d made enough in one six month period to pay off Gus and Tony. It was completely separate from the millions of dollars that came in each year from his cattle ranching. Her mind swam with the numbers.

“I’m glad,” she sighed.

J.B. seemed to feel no need to continue any conversation. Trying to gauge how he felt about the situation was like pulling teeth. Her nerves were fraying, slowly, unwound by the gnawing anxiety she felt.

She was so indebted to this man. He’d saved her from the bite, from Reece, and now from Tony and Gus. It grated on her that she had nothing to offer but her body, and that seemed a poor gift indeed. It was too used. Too stained.

How could a job make her feel so strong, yet weaker than ever? Working the stables had bolstered Maple. Her body was stronger. She’d gained confidence. Working with the horses was her element.

Yet she was constantly distraught. In peril. It reminded her of the heroine of her favorite book. At least the heroine had some endearing characteristics. Maple was certain she was lacking there, too.

“What is the most a pony has ever sold for?” This was venturing into murky waters, but asking aloud helped her idea form more coherently.

J.B. hesitated, “Maple--”

“How much?”

“I’ve seen one sell for ten million dollars.”

Jesus. So many zeroes. “W-what made her worth so much money?”

He frowned. Not a small one, but a full-face, every line wrinkled in concern frown. “It doesn’t matter.”

Maple tried a trick from J.B.’s own book and pressed him with a stare. It worked.

“She consented to twenty-four seven pony status for life. No hopes of marriage, or of being a consort. She agreed to never speak again, Maple. To live in restraints for the rest of her life. To be ridden, and bred, and trained. No breaks, no down time. She agreed to be branded.”

Maple thought back to the odd mark on Yvonne’s shoulder. “Like Yvonne is?”

J.B. nodded. “Yes. Like Yvonne, though she let Micah brand her out of love. He doesn’t expect her to be a pony all of the time, as you saw. Maple, a life-long commitment like that isn’t right. From a contractual standpoint, it was legal. She agreed and signed and her Master paid. But--” he cut himself off, bitterness coating the words.

“Why do you think she agreed? Why do any of them agree to it? I mean, I saw Yvonne and she seemed happy, but how could she have been certain of the outcome? Is it truly just about money?”

“No. They want change, Maple. Not just the security and protection, though that’s a large part. Anyone could strike a deal for that, I’m sure. The women who approach me want to change themselves from the core out.”

This resonated deeply. It ate at her to admit that her body had orgasmed for her attackers. How in the club countless men had brought her to release despite her internal protests. Something was wrong with her. It was deep, practically written in her DNA. J.B. made it sound as if there was a way to cure the sickness inside of her.

“Why do you do it?” She whispered.

This was the question all else hinged on. Maple had to do something different. Be something different. She couldn’t face her past head on; that had happened at the show and it had ended in her hurt and humiliation. But she couldn’t keep running and hiding, either. She wanted to change, and she wanted J.B. to help change her.