Unleashed: Volume 3 (Unleashed #3) (19 page)

“Where to?” he
barked in that New Yorker accent I’d found so entertaining and now
wished I’d never, ever hear again. I gave him the name of the hotel
and managed not to throw up until I got up into the room. I even made
it to the bathroom. I was very proud of myself.

Ripping off the dress
and corset, I left them there on the bathroom floor. I wanted nothing
to do with Declan Hunt, not the man, not the gown he’d bought me.
I’d fallen in love, completely and utterly in love. I’d given
myself to him in every way. And he was with another woman. I’d even
told him I loved him, yelled it out merely hours ago. It hadn’t
occurred to me until now that he hadn’t said it back. I’d told
him I loved him and he’d said nothing in return. Stupid me, I’d
taken his groan and thrust as a response in kind. To call me a moron
didn’t begin to describe my idiocy. My glasses were so rose-colored
they made me totally blind.

I flung the glittering
diamond and ruby necklace onto the vanity. Fuck him and his fucking
jewels, flattering me and making me think I was hot shit. And I’d
fallen for it all.

Hot tears stained my
cheeks but I splashed them away with cold, clear water. I didn’t
have time for wallowing in self-pity. There’d be plenty of time for
that in the future. But not now. I needed to get out of there, fast.

This time around, I
found my boots, jeans and t-shirt, too. Powered by humiliation and
fury, I had everything on and stood ready to go in seconds flat.

I paused at the door.
Everything in me just wanted to dash, take off in the night and begin
the complicated nightmare of forgetting any of this had happened. But
I knew Declan wouldn’t let me go that easily. He’d proven he
liked toying with me. He’d also shown he had no heart. I needed to
end things and end them good to have any chance of really getting
away.

I decided to write a
note. In a drawer, I found a pen and some hotel stationary. This had
to be good. If I left any window open at all, he’d come after me
and I knew myself all too well. He’d start talking and touching and
before I knew it I’d be in it all over again, a sucker willingly
placing my neck on the chopping block. No, this had to be convincing.

It came to me quickly, and I wrote:

Declan,

Someone else has come through for me to help with the ranch. I don’t
need you anymore. I’m terminating our contract a day early, so I do
not hold you to your end of the bargain. You don’t owe me anything.

Kara

I left the note on a
table with a shaking hand. Terrified he’d return before I left, I
closed the door behind me, raced to the elevator and then down to the
lobby. Heart racing, yet also strangely numb, I made it outside and a
doorman hailed me a taxicab.

In the car, I blew out
the breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. No crying,
not yet. I had some things to take care of. I needed to buy a plane
ticket and fly back to Montana. I had to get in touch with Lymon and
sell him my ranch. Then I had to find somewhere else to live and
start my life all over again.

There’d be time in
the future to feel everything, to hate myself, to dredge up memories
of it all. How I’d told Declan I loved him. He’d grunted and come
in me and I’d somehow interpreted that as, “I love you too, Kara.
Would you like to spend the rest of your life with me?”

Crushed, I shook with
unshed tears and fury. I had to keep it together. I had a plane
flight and a bunch of business to transact first.

Sitting there in the
dark, speeding to the airport, I made myself a promise. No more
believing in fairy tales. From now on, I’d keep my feet firmly
planted on the ground. I’d become the strong, independent woman I
aspired to be, the kind who’d never have gone running to Declan in
the first place. I’d look the truth straight in the face, brave and
honest, no matter how grim my reality. I was done with the old Kara,
sweet and dreamy, imagining rainbows and moonbeams where there was
actually just plain mud.

I’d embrace the truth, alone and
fierce. I could do it. I knew I could. I just had to stay far, far
away from Declan Hunt.

THE
END

Thank you so much for reading
Unleashed:
Hot Alpha Romance, Volume 3
! I hope you loved it, and stay
tuned for the next installment, the conclusion of the story!

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Keep reading for a
sneak peek at the next and final book in the Declan and Kara story,
Unleashed: Hot Alpha Romance,
Volume. 4
. All four volumes of
Unleashed
are available now for purchase or preorder
here
.

The final volume
will be released on Friday, February 12th.

The
final installment of
Unleashed
.
Bombs
will be dropped.

Declan

I don't let things slip
through my fingers. I clutch them to me fast and never let go. The
more I desire something, the harder I drive to get it. I fight for
what I want, and what I want is Kara Brooks.

She wants to run away.
I don’t blame her. It’s probably the smart thing to do.

She can run, but she
can’t hide.

I don’t know how this
is all going to end. But I do know that sh*t is about to go down. And
when it goes down, it’s going to go down big.

Kara

I've let him break my
heart. Twice. The first time I was 18. Back then, I could blame him.
I was just a kid and he played games with my heart.

Now, I have no one to
blame but myself. Sometimes I think that's what hurts the most. Other
times, I know that's not the worst. The worst pain of all comes from
his betrayal.

I have to move on. I
need to focus on getting my life back on track, setting out far, far
away from Declan Hunt. During the daylight hours, I know I have
plenty to keep me busy.

It’s the nights I’m worried
about. How am I going to make it through all those long, dark hours
when the memories of our scorching hot nights together are so close I
can practically taste them? Every time I close my eyes, it’s his
face I see, his fingers I feel, his heat making me quiver and moan. I
should hate it, resent the power he still wields over me. Instead, I
never want it to end.

NOTE:
Unleashed
is a four-volume story launching the
Beg
for It
series about the hot, alpha males in Declan's
family and the battles they wage with the strong, sexy women who make
them finally meet their match.

Chapter
1
Declan

Had I not been so
happy, I wouldn’t have let Courtney kiss me. She got a wet one in
before I even registered what was happening.

She’d lured me into a
dark, quiet corner in the middle of the gala at the Met. She said she
had something important to talk to me about. If I’d thought about
it I’d have known what she was up to, but I didn’t. A smile on my
face, I was focused on Kara, eager to see her in that gown, searching
for her face in the crowd. She hadn’t arrived yet, but she would
soon.

Since the one person I
wanted to see wasn’t there yet, I decided I could give Courtney two
minutes. She was one demanding and relentless woman. The best way to
get her off my back would be to give her a bit of my time. Otherwise,
she might make a scene. I knew I could handle it, but why go there if
you didn’t have to?

Even as she led me back
into the hallway, I kept scanning for Kara. I saw no sign. In the
last twenty minutes I’d texted and called her but it had gone
straight to voicemail. I knew she was fine, just taking her time
getting ready, but patience wasn’t my strong suit. I couldn’t
wait to see her in that gown with the diamond and ruby necklace I’d
given her, and even better, later on stripped down to just the corset
underneath.

Courtney dragged me off
into a shadowy corner with the subtlety of a tigress. I guess some
guys got off on aggressive attack women. I wasn’t one of them. I
was all for a woman who knew what she wanted, but this
not-reading-my-signals, not-taking-no-for-an-answer bullshit wasn’t
going to play. She wanted a piece of me and she wasn’t going to get
it. That was final. I belonged to Kara. It was that simple.

But even without Kara,
I’d have no interest. Courtney wasn’t my type. She needed a himbo
she could drag around to different socialite events. She didn’t
need any man for his money, that was sure, she just needed some man
candy who could pose for the cameras. There had to be a long line of
interested candidates. I just wasn’t one of them.

In the dark hallway she
started talking real low so I had to lean into her. She faked picking
something off of my lapel so she could touch me. I found it annoying,
but didn’t really get pissed off until she planted one on me.

Usually I would have
seen it coming, ducked it like a punch in the ring. I knew how women
like her worked. Usually, I had my guard up.

But being with Kara had
made me soft. I felt all smiley and shit, like I’d start humming
any minute, my heart light. And so Courtney got her three seconds in
heaven. Until I grabbed her around her boney shoulder and pushed her
away, firm and clear.

“Not going to
happen.” I shook my head no.

She looked too pleased
as she said, “Suit yourself.” Shrugging, she walked off like
getting rejected was no big deal. She was up to something, but I
honestly didn’t have time for her games. Maybe I’d gotten off
easy and she’d lost interest. Maybe she was off to find some other
cowboy to ride for the month.

It was time to stand up
and address the guests, me and the rest of the philanthropic
moneybags. I still found it funny to be counted as one of them.

I’d figured Kara
would have arrived by then. I remembered she didn’t have a lot of
experience attending these sorts of events. She must be nervous. I
cursed myself. I should have made arrangements to meet her. But there
wasn’t time for that now.

I got up on the podium,
took the mic and said a generic word or two about the importance of
the cause, the necessity of funding and improving services for
children in the foster care system. I praised the event organizers
and thanked all of the guests. Public speaking didn’t phase me.
Easy as pie.

What phased me was that
I couldn’t see Kara. I kept searching for her face amidst the
throng, but no luck. Afterwards, I had to work the crowd, shaking
hands with this Rockefeller and that Astor, drinking a high ball with
a DuPont and discussing bow hunting in Montana with a Vanderbilt. New
York really knew how to pull out the old money. You could always
tell, too. Old money never looked as done up as new money. The pearls
looked slightly worn, passed down over the generations. The older
women might let themselves go grey. The younger ones never, ever
flashed even a bit of cleavage. New money had giant fake boobs and
perfectly veneered teeth, and new money was out to have a good time.
They wanted to write you a big check right there in front of
everyone. Old money would head home early. But the next day you’d
get an even bigger donation, requesting anonymity.

One classic old-money,
silver-haired gentleman spoke to me with a sense of urgency about the
cause. He clutched his cane with his boney hand and pierced me with
his startling blue eyes as he talked about the plight of foster
children and how many slipped through the cracks. He looked frail and
somewhat sickly, but he spoke with passion. He wanted to know about
my background and what had driven me to become such a dedicated
supporter.

Normally, I’d have
given him more time. I appreciated the man coming out, especially
since he honestly looked like he needed to be resting at home in bed.
But it hit 10 o’clock and I had to excuse myself.

Where the hell was
Kara? She wasn’t responding to her cell phone and she definitely
wasn’t at the party, I knew because in-between all the glad-handing
and chitchat, I was prowling the premises like a panther. I called
Vladimir and he confirmed that he’d dropped her off almost two
hours earlier. Sometimes you needed to stay and host the huge gala
benefitting your charity. And sometimes you needed to quit it and hit
the road to make sure everything was OK with the one you loved.

Almost at the door,
another socialite shark cornered me. I could really use some sort of
danger/warning system, maybe something that could cue the
Jaws
soundtrack so I could prepare myself prior to attack. In
alcohol-soaked breathy tones, she clasped a boney claw to my bicep
and told me she wanted to make a very special gift to my foundation.
She wanted to discuss the terms in private. I’d heard she had
recently finalized a divorce with husband number two. With a sigh and
a few shreds of remaining protocol, I managed to steer her toward a
more interested party so I could finally slip away into the night.

I jogged the six blocks
to our hotel. I doubted a single attendee at the Met would have
considered such physical exertion. A punishing workout with a
personal trainer in top-of-the-line athletic gear, sure. A jog on
city blocks in a tuxedo, not so much. Rich people tended to get soft.
Not me.

I knew Vladimir could
be there for me in minutes, that I might not even be saving any time
on foot. But I couldn’t sit in the back of a car at traffic lights,
not when I didn’t know what had happened to Kara. She was such an
innocent, so naïve and I’d only showed her the glittering lights
of New York City. Much darker dangers lurked around every corner and
Kara would attract a criminal like a moth to a flame. Only she’d be
the one to get burned.