The Return of Brody McBride Read online

  The Return of Brody McBride

  BOOK ONE: THE MCBRIDES

  JENNIFER RYAN

  Dedication

  For my family, who put up with late dinners, a messy house, and my never-ending work schedule. You support me despite all that, and a lot more, and encourage me every day to achieve my dreams. I hope you see it as inspiration to reach for yours. I love you.

  Contents

  * * *

  Dedication

  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

  An Excerpt from Falling for Owen

  About the Author

  Also by Jennifer Ryan

  An Excerpt from The Valentine’s Day Disaster by Lori Wilde

  An Excerpt from Confessions of a Secret Admirer by Jennifer Ryan, Candis Terry, and Jennifer Seasons

  An Excerpt from Rushing Amy by Julie Brannagh

  An Excerpt from Wicked Earl Seeks Proper Heiress by Sara Bennett

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter One

  * * *

  BRODY WOKE WITH a start, gasped for breath, his hands pressed to his heaving chest where the bullet had slammed into his bulletproof vest months ago, severely bruising his ribs. Used to sleeping in some of the most hostile places in the world, he took in his surroundings with a quick sweep of his gaze. All safe. Adrenaline racing through his veins, he checked his first instinct and stilled his hand, reaching beneath the pillow for his gun. He wished he could shake off the nightmare and memories as quickly as he had sleep.

  Alert, he now remembered arriving at the old cabin late last night. Clear Water Ranch. He and Owen should rename the place Mud. Nothing pristine about the blood running through his veins. His father sullied it, along with the McBride name.

  Just the thought of being on the ranch again set off a barrage of memories, most of him and Owen running wild. He couldn’t pick out one, or grasp the prevailing feeling that went with them. A mixture of happy and sad times, frightening things better left forgotten but relived in Technicolor nightmares, and anger stored up over years, like a river cutting its path until a deep gorge separated them. Instead of spending the last eight years rebuilding bridges, he’d let the gap grow wider.

  His stellar military career came with its own kind of horrors, right up until a roadside bomb took out three of his friends and left him wounded, ending his third tour in Afghanistan and his stint with the Army Rangers. He’d stowed them away with the other bad memories.

  Two months of rehab under his belt, he returned home to pull the tattered pieces of his life together and mend them into something of a happy future. Hell, he’d settle for dull and normal.

  He’d have exceptional if he won Rain back.

  He’d blown it with her and let love slip through his fingers. Back then, he had nothing to offer her. Now, he was a different man, the man she always saw inside of him.

  Her trail might be cold, but he’d track her, and before she knew it he’d be hot on her tail. That’s exactly where he planned to stay until he convinced her his days as a selfish prick were over. He wanted to put the past behind him, prove to himself and everyone else he could be a different kind of man than his father was, and find that all-American dream he’d spent years protecting for others. So long as Rain was part of it, he’d find that elusive happiness.

  Judging by the sunlight streaming in the windows, early morning greeted him. A soft breeze filtered up to the loft from what could only be the open door downstairs. Papers rustled, then everything went quiet. Company. His brother had come calling. Time to face his past.

  COFFEE IN HAND, Owen had the radio cranked up along with the heat as he drove to his law office on autopilot, his mind on the day ahead. He passed the split in the road that led to the old cabin and spotted the new green truck parked out front. Instinctively, he stomped on the brakes and came to a jarring stop, almost losing his coffee along with his good mood. Eyes narrowed, he glared at that truck and the cabin and knew. Brody was home. Unannounced and unwelcome.

  Quickly thinking of what he should do, what he could do, he backed up and took the long driveway to the cabin. Not much changed since he’d come out and put the new padlock on the front door to keep teens from partying and the occasional drifter out. The grass was several feet high. His truck bounced and thudded over the deep ruts and potholes. Garbage, beer cans, and bottles littered the yard. The cabin looked neglected and sad against the backdrop of the Colorado mountains.

  Rain had turned sad after Brody walked out on her, just as he’d walked out on this place and left it to the wind and time. With nothing and no one to help, neither was living up to their potential.

  With that in mind, Owen walked right in the busted front door and stood in the ruin. This wrecked place suited Brody and the life he’d left behind for others to clean up. Namely him.

  Setting his coffee on the rickety kitchen table, he sorted through the contents of his brother’s open briefcase.

  Shocking. The thought raced through his mind. He had a few friends in the right places, which made it easier to track Brody over the last couple years. Brody found his calling in the military’s elite Ranger unit. He’d been on some dangerous missions and served his country in two consecutive tours in Iraq and three more in Afghanistan. He didn’t know what several of the medals were for, but the Purple Heart made the reports he’d received all too real.

  A grunt and moan carried down the stairs. Concerned, he glanced up to where his brother slept restlessly, caught in a nightmare. He didn’t go up, wanting to put the confrontation off as long as possible. Rifling through the other stuff in his brother’s briefcase, he listened to the disturbing noises coming from upstairs, ending with a sudden gasp before all went quiet.

  Brody padded down the stairs. Owen set down one of the bottles of pills on the table and caught sight of his brother for the first time in more than eight years. Immediately, he was taken back to summer days when they’d run down the dock, feet bare, shirts off, the sun hot on their backs as they took a flying leap into the lake. Brody’s hair was that same golden blond, his skin tan—and riddled with scars old and new. Taller, broader, and something else. The way he carried himself. A mix of confidence, watchfulness, and ease. His eyes had changed. Gone was the sparkle of mischief always just below the surface. Replaced by a steady alert gaze that took in everything around him in one long sweep. A few more lines bracketed his eyes, but he still had that same strong jaw, the muscle working even now as Brody’s gaze narrowed down at him.

  “Sleeping pills, anti-anxiety meds, painkillers.”

  “I thought you were a lawyer, not a pharmacist,” Brody snapped, a defensive note to his words.

  “I’ve defended enough users to know what these drugs do to people when abused.”

  “The s
leeping pills are nearly full. The others are necessary, and I take them according to the directions so clearly written on the bottle.”

  Brody moved forward looking larger than life. He’d gained a good twenty-five pounds—all muscle. This Brody was lean and mean. The bad blood between them not forgotten, or even pushed to the back burner for their first encounter. Well, Owen could be just as stubborn and ornery. Hell, he’d taught Brody a thing or two about being obstinate over the years. They’d gotten into a shitload of trouble, usually with Owen in the lead. Brody followed willingly. They both had that same wild McBride streak in them.

  “How’s the leg?” Owen tossed out, hiding a smile when Brody’s eyes narrowed, the muscle in his jaw flexing again.

  “Checking up on me, big brother? Is that coffee for me?”

  “You refused to return my calls. The coffee is mine.”

  “I didn’t have anything to say. You went your way. I went mine.”

  Owen had to admit, at first he’d needed the distance from their father, Brody, this town, from a past he couldn’t forget or change. The things he’d done and couldn’t change. But after everything was said and done, this place always called to him. Good or bad, sometimes miserable, a few times happy, usually somewhere tenuously in-between, it was always home. He wondered if that’s how Brody felt. Was it the reason he’d finally stopped trying to get himself killed and come home?

  “And the leg?”

  “Fine,” Brody said through clenched teeth.

  “According to these military papers, they honorably discharged you due to medical reasons.”

  “I’m no longer fit to send off to be killed. You’ve got to be a hundred percent for that kind of work.”

  “Is that all it was? Work?” Owen hoped it was something more. That Brody had finally found a direction in his life. Maybe Brody had stopped listening to the recording in his head of their father telling him he was worthless, stupid, and good for nothing and no one. It took a lot of hard work for Owen to shut that voice up. He hoped Brody had managed the same.

  “I needed something to do,” Brody evaded. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “When are you leaving again?”

  “Who says I am?”

  “You haven’t been back in more than eight years.”

  “I’m here now.”

  “Which begs the question, why now?”

  Until that moment, Brody wanted to tell Owen to go to hell. But that was the old him, the one who didn’t answer to anyone, carried around a chip on his shoulder the size of the big Colorado sky and was belligerent just to be a dick and get a rise out of anyone standing in front of him.

  With a heavy sigh, he said, “Hi, Owen. Long time no see. How are you?”

  Owen crossed his arms over his chest and warily went along. “Hi, Brody. Long time no see. I’m fine. How are you?”

  “Doing better. I just got out of a veteran’s rehab center. The reason for the pills.” He grabbed a bottle and removed a pill from that one and another from a second bottle, popping them into his mouth, downing them without water. “I got caught by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan a few months back. Lost three of my men, another got hit pretty bad by shrapnel. He suffered some burns.”

  “You took shrapnel and got burned.”

  “Yeah, well, shit happens. I lost three men. Friends. They had wives, kids. People who loved them waiting for them,” he said tightly.

  He’d been living his life on the edge, no one to care whether he lived or died. That roadside bomb had been the last straw in a line of near misses for Brody.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” Owen conceded.

  Brody figured his changing attitude and Owen’s confession were as close to an apology as they’d get. At least, right now.

  “I know it. And now, I’m here. Home to stay.”

  “To stay,” Owen repeated, amazed and something else. Brody couldn’t put his finger on it.

  “Look, Owen, I know you’re pissed. I was when I left, too. It’s been years. The old man is dead and gone. Can’t we let bygones be bygones?”

  “You’re my brother. If I had the time, we could take this out into the yard and settle a few old scores.”

  “I’m ready whenever you are,” Brody returned with a cocky grin. Owen wasn’t really pissed about the past between them. Not if a quick tussle would put the past to rest. Maybe that gaping ravine was just a pissy creek and Brody had been too stubborn to see it for what it was.

  No, something else was going on here. Something making Owen angry and edgy.

  “I did what you asked. I had the old man cremated,” Owen backtracked. “I still have the ashes.”

  “I told you to dump his ass in a hot fire and let him burn.”

  “Yeah, well, I thought you might like to be here for that. We could crack a few beers, cuss the man out for being a shitty father . . .” Owen stopped talking and appeared to go somewhere else.

  “Man, what is with you?”

  “You never answered me. Why are you here now?”

  Brody ran both hands through his close-cropped hair, scratched the back of his head, and wished desperately for a cup of coffee and some hot food. He should have stopped before reaching the cabin and picked up a few provisions.

  “Listen, Owen, my military career is over. I’ve got this business thing, but someone else runs the show.”

  “Silent partner?” Owen guessed.

  “Something like that. Anyway, I’ve got my disability from the military and some savings. The business is doing well, and I can live a comfortable life doing what I want.”

  “What is it you want? You thinking of turning this place back into a working ranch?”

  “I might get a few horses, but other than that, I haven’t really thought about it. I have something else I need to do first.”

  “And what is that?” Owen asked, his voice hard and deliberate.

  “I need your help with something.”

  “Spit it out. Why are you here?” Taking a step closer, Owen fisted his hands at his side.

  “I need to find Rain.”

  Owen cussed, paced back and forth, and rubbed his hand across his jaw.

  “I thought about asking Eli where I can find her, but I thought better of it.”

  “You bet your ass you should think better of it. He’ll likely kill you as look at you.”

  Brody laughed. Small-town people had long memories. After leaving Rain the way he did, and the things he’d done in those last few days, he wasn’t expecting a warm welcome from most people, but especially Rain’s father, Eli.

  Still pacing, Owen went off like a machine gun again. “Why do you want to find her? What? You want to tell her you’re sorry for what happened?”

  “Man, get a grip. Yes, I want to make things right.”

  “What does that mean? Do you know?”

  Brody narrowed his eyes. “Know what? Did something happen to Rain? Is she all right?”

  Owen took a deep breath and paced again. “You don’t know,” he said absently.

  “I haven’t spoken to her since the day I left, but you have.” Brody’s suspicions rose along with the hairs on the back of his neck. “What happened to her?”

  “Is she the only one-night stand you’ll look up while you’re in town? Or is Roxy on your list of women to find?”

  Brody grabbed Owen by the lapels of his suit jacket and hauled him up to his loafer-covered toes. Their faces inches apart, he said very calmly, “Rain was not a one-night stand.”

  “You tossed her away like she was just another piece of ass.” Owen didn’t fight the hold Brody had on him.

  Brody shoved Owen away and crossed his arms over his chest. He took a moment to remind himself that half the battle to win back Rain stood in front of him. Owen knew how to find Rain, and he’d tell him, or Brody would beat it out of him. The thought held a lot of appeal, but he’d come home to make amends, start a new life, not pound Owen into the mud.

  “It wasn�
��t like that.”

  “No. It wasn’t like that. It was worse. You went to Roxy behind Rain’s back. Snuck into her bed after leaving Rain.”

  “It wasn’t like I went from Rain’s bed to Roxy’s. Rain and I weren’t sleeping together.”

  “Only because you broke things off with her and pushed her away for no good reason. You two had been friends for years—more than that, for months. She was eighteen, in love with you, and you decided you’d sleep with that bitch, Roxy, instead of a great girl like Rain.”

  “Is that what you really think?” Brody asked.

  “It’s what the whole town thinks. It’s what Rain thought.”

  “Don’t you think I know that? The thing is, my explanation wasn’t enough to make her change her mind.”

  This time, Brody paced, then stopped to face Owen and his past.

  “Dad ran up a substantial bar tab. He was drunk . . . Well, more drunk than usual and about ready to drive home. Roxy called and told me to come and get him.”

  “She’d done that a hundred times,” Owen pointed out.

  “Yep, but this time I went into the bar and sat beside him, miserable I’d broken up with Rain. I tried to obliterate her memory from my mind and drink away my anger over the old man dragging me down again. Five shots of whiskey later, Roxy comes by the table and asks to speak to me alone. Bad idea all the way around. I thought she’d give me shit about the amount of money the old man owed her. I prepared to tell her what an idiot she was for letting him run up such a big tab and refuse to pay for his stupidity and hers. Instead, she pulled me into her apartment and everything went to shit.”

  “She had a thing for you for a long time,” Owen conceded. “She was a notorious flirt, but she chased after you with a compulsion.”

  “Yeah, well, I always blew her off. Don’t get me wrong, she was every man’s wet dream. She might have been especially hot for me, but she was hot for any guy who walked through the door. I like my women willing, but not like that. Roxy was trouble with a capital T. I got myself into enough trouble all on my own. The two of us together were TNT.”