Claimed by the Ex-Con, page 1
CLAIMED BY THE EX-CON
BAD MEN: BOOK 2
LENA LITTLE
© 2024 by Lena Little
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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CONTENTS
Free Books
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Epilogue
Extended Epilogue
Also by Lena Little
PREVIEW
I’ve just served a year in prison for putting a man in the hospital after he tried to hurt a woman in one of my bars.
While I don’t regret my choices in the slightest, I’m ready to get my life back.
But the trip back to the city I call home is long, and when a storm starts to roll in, I have no choice but to stop at a small town’s B&B.
I only expect a bed for the night, but instead, I find the most stunning girl I’ve ever seen.
Roxie works at the B&B, but she dreams of leaving this town and throwing her reputation as the goody-two-shoes pastor’s daughter to the wind.
One night with her isn’t enough. She’s mine, and there’s no way I’m leaving her here.
Her father has other plans for her, but I won’t let a single person stand in our way. Even if it means living up to my own reputation as the dangerous ex-con.
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1
RONAN
It’s been one year since I saw the outside of the building currently disappearing in my rearview mirror. One year since I felt the rumble of an engine and the road beneath the wheels. One year since I took a breath of air that felt like freedom.
I’ve never been more excited to see the stretch of gray highway in front of me, but after twelve entire months in prison, I’m just relieved to look at anything other than the same four walls.
That’s not to say I regret what I did to land myself there in the first place. Christ no. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. If there’s one thing about me, it’s that I own my own choices. The court of law might have decided what I did was bad, but I don’t give a fuck. I know it was the right thing to do.
My mind flashes back to that night as I drive, hitting the gas pedal hard.
I step out of my office, the thumping music filling my ears. I smile, seeing the bar full and happy patrons drinking and dancing. It’s Friday night, and ever since my brother and I opened this second location two months ago, it’s been packed every weekend. Better than we ever could have imagined. Success feels a little like being drunk, happiness and warmth filling me.
Nobody thought two broke kids would be able to make names for themselves, but Rylan and I are proving them wrong. At only thirty years old, I can say that I have multiple successful businesses to my name and, if all continues the same way it’s been going, I’ll never have to worry about my bank account again.
I’m still smiling as I walk through the floor, greeting regulars and making conversation as I make my way to the door. It’s time to go home for the night. Our staff have everything covered, and I can use a good long sleep after all the admin I’ve done today.
The happy bubble I’d been floating in bursts when I get outside. A woman’s screams, shrill and terrified, ring through the air. Our bouncer is occupied with some other asshole at the door, and I don’t think twice about running in the direction of the girl’s cries.
“Get off me! Please, no. I don’t want to go home with you!” she begs, her voice muffled by the last word.
I turn the corner to a dingy alleyway and find a man twice her size with his hand over her mouth, clutching her close even as she desperately squirms and tries to break free. She’s barely over five foot and slim, and this guy rivals me for height and strength.
“She said no,” I snarl as I advance on him. I want to tackle him to the ground, but I don’t want the girl to get hurt in the process.
“This has nothing to do with you,” the man spits. “Me and this lovely lady are just heading home after a nice evening at that new bar. That’s all.”
I see red. “That’s my fucking bar,” I tell him, enjoying the way his face pales. “And we have a strict no asshole policy. I suggest you let her go and leave before you regret ever coming here.”
He scoffs, and his grip on her loosens as he steps towards me. I meet her eyes, wide with fear and glassy with tears, and give her the smallest nod I can manage, urging her to keep fighting him with my eyes.
“Fuck off,” the man tells me, sealing his fate.
The woman manages to land a solid stomp on the instep of his foot and he curses, stumbling back as his balance is thrown off. That’s the only opening I need. I rush forward and slam him into the brick wall. The woman sobs as his grip is ripped away from her, but my focus is entirely on this asshole.
He tries to fight back, but I’ve got the upper hand and I have no intention of losing it. I slam my fist into his nose, the cracking of cartilage and bone ringing in my ears, blood streaming down his face. I knee him in the balls, send my other fist at his kidney, punching again and again until his garbled protests and insults die on his tongue.
It’s only when someone grabs my shoulders and pulls me away that I stop. My knuckles are bloody and my eye is starting to swell from where he landed a lucky hit, but I barely feel the pain. My eyes are locked on the man, bruised and bloody and unconscious on the dirty alley floor.
It’s then that I realize who’s holding me, pinning my arms behind my back and encircling them in metal.
The fucking cops.
By the time the memory releases me, the sky is dark and the highway has given way to a tiny, dusty road. I slow as I pass a town sign to read it.
Welcome to Sunflower Springs.
I have every intention of just driving straight through and continuing on my way back to the city, but it’s at least another seven hours drive and already the clock on the dashboard tells me it’s 8 PM. I haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since I was arrested, and the exhaustion weighs on me.
When I see a small sign decorated with fading hand-painted sunflowers, announcing rooms for the night at a Bed and Breakfast, I make my mind up. I slide the car into a space at the side of the road, throw it in park, and grab the bag containing my current possessions. It’s nearly empty, with one change of clothes and a scattering of my possessions. All my important shit is back at my apartment, where it has sat waiting for the last year. One more night isn’t going to hurt.
The air feels muggy and damp, the way it always does before a storm hits, and I frown up at the sky. Thick, dark clouds are rolling in, and I hurry up to the yellow door, not wanting to get caught in the rain.
It’s warm inside and smells of something sweet like home baking. I inhale deeply, my stomach growling at the delicious smell. The entryway is small and cozy, with patterned wallpaper and a green sofa with a small coffee table set out as a waiting area. The front desk is small, with a computer that looks like it’s seen better days and a thick logbook set out on top.
All of those details fade into nothingness when I set eyes on the woman behind the desk, though. Hell, the entire world ceases to exist, everything suddenly dull and unimportant compared to her.
Wavy blonde hair is swept up into a messy bun, but strands have escaped and hang around her face, framing her soft features. Wide, bright blue eyes meet mine, long dark lashes fluttering. Her rosy lips part as she inhales sharply, her chest rising with the motion. A blue and white dress with sunflowers on it clings to her figure, flaring out at the waist slightly, though I can’t see how far it reaches with the desk in the way. Is it short, showing off more of that creamy skin, or does it reach the floor, swaying when she walks? I’m suddenly desperate to know.
My blood is on fire, burning hotter and hotter the longer we stare at each other. Without question, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. But there’s more, something in her stare, a spark that contradicts her sweet, innocent appearance, one that draws me in and makes me ravenous.
A loud boom of thunder shakes the world around us, followed by a flash of lightning almost as bright as the electricity zapping between us. She jumps, blinking rapidly, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip as she visibly tries to compose herself.
“Uh, welcome,” she greets, the words coming out in a rush as she wipes her hands down the front of her dress, looking away from me to her computer. “Did you have a booking?”
I walk closer to the desk, needing to destroy the distance between us. The pattering of rain on the windows fills the air, and I delight in the way goosebumps rise on her flesh.
“No, I saw the sign as I was driving through,” I tell her, my voice coming out dark and gravelly. It’s impossible to hide how affected I am by her, but I don’t even bother trying.
“Oh,” she breathes. Then, her brows furrow and she meets my eyes again. “You were traveling through? Tonight?”
I nod, confused as to why she seems surprised by this.
&nbs
I shake my head, shrugging. “No, I didn’t hear,” I admit, smirking a little. “I didn’t get the news where I’m from.” That’s an understatement. It’s not like I was given a weather report when I was released today.
“Well, it’s a good thing you stopped,” the woman continues. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt in the storm.”
“A very good thing indeed,” I agree, my gaze dropping to her lips again.
“We’re completely free for tonight, so you’re in luck,” she says, opening the thick log book to a new page and rummaging in a drawer for a pen. She rattles off the price and amenities, but I barely take in any of the information, too caught up in drinking her in. “...your name?”
I blink, realizing she’s asking me something. “Sorry, sunflower. I didn’t catch that.”
Her eyes widen at my nickname for her, which I can’t help but think is apt not just because of the town’s name and her dress, but because even with the darkness shrouding the building, she’s shining so bright the sun may as well be out. “Your name,” she repeats, her voice all breathy. “For the booking.”
“Ronan Ross,” I tell her with a grin. “And yours?”
“Roxie,” she says with a smile that takes my damn breath away. “Here’s your key. You’re in room two, just at the top of the stairs on the right.”
I take the key from her, and our fingers brush. She gasps as electricity shoots through our bodies at the touch, lightning flashing once more. I hold her gaze for a long moment before nodding to her and turning away, heading up the stairs to my room.
Despite my tiredness and the crashing of the storm outside, I can’t help but think today might be the best damn day of my life.
2
ROXIE
Istare after him as he climbs the stairs, room key dangling from his fingers. My own fingers tingle with the echo of his touch, my whole body burning. His long legs carry him quickly up the stairs, his footsteps quiet despite the fact he’s made of muscle. He has to be over six foot, and strong as hell judging by the way his biceps strained against his shirt, not that I was looking.
Okay, I was definitely looking. In my defense, he’s the hottest fucking man I’ve ever seen. I’m just happy I didn’t drool and make a total fool of myself.
Men like that don’t stop in a town like this. Sunflower Springs is the definition of a small town. Everyone knows everyone and strangers don’t stay long. Which begs the question, why is he here at all? Where did he come from, where he didn’t get news of the storm? Where is he going?
He only has one bag with him that looks nearly empty, and his clothes are plain black, giving nothing away. Curiosity burns through me, even as I try to distract myself, fiddling with stationary and flicking through files without taking in any of the information.
Thanks to the furious storm, there’s nobody else in the bed and breakfast except him and me. A fact I’m keenly aware of because it means there are basically no tasks to do to distract myself from it.
I fight the temptation for a good twenty minutes before I give in. I open a new internet browser and type in his name.
Ronan Ross.
My mouth drops open as my eyes lock onto the first search result. It’s a newspaper article from a year ago, titled: Entrepreneur Sentenced to a Year in Prison for Assault Resulting in Injury.
I click the link before I even register what I’m doing. I try to convince myself that it’s because I want to make sure I’m safe and not trapped here with someone dangerous, but in truth, I just need to know everything about him. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to think he’s the kind of man who’d hurt someone for no reason. I don’t know him, but weirdly, some deep part of me feels like I do. Like I’m meant to.
I read the article at a fast pace, devouring the information. He sent a man to hospital needing stitches, with a broken nose, two broken ribs, and deep bruising. But he did it because he was protecting someone. According to the article, Ronan stumbled across a man attempting to assault a woman outside one of his bars and stepped in. The court found that he used excessive force, but I can’t help but think he did exactly what was necessary.
There’s an odd fluttery feeling in my stomach that I’ve never felt before, a tingle of excitement on my skin, as I scroll to finish reading. At the bottom of the page is a photo of his mugshot. His eye is swollen, but he’s smiling, looking entirely unapologetic and hot as fuck.
“Not the most flattering photo I’ve ever taken.”
I jump out of my skin, spinning on my feet with wide eyes. Ronan is standing behind me, eyebrow raised as he looks between me and the computer screen.
“I … uh … well…” I fumble to find any words that don’t make me look more guilty. But it’s too late. I’ve been caught staring at his damn mug shot like some sort of obsessed stalker.
Ronan bursts out laughing, the sound warm and dark and making me flush from the inside out. The lights flicker, and the computer screen goes dark.
“Are you scared of me now, Roxie?” Ronan asks, his attention fully on me. I’ve never felt this seen in my life. Like he’s looking through the good girl facade that this entire town has made me wear, right into the depths of my soul.
“I’m not scared,” I tell him honestly. I’m trapped under his gaze, unable to look away, unable to do anything but tell the truth. I have to remind my lungs to take in air, have to remember how to form words. “I feel safe. Clearly, you’re the kind of man who would do anything to protect someone who needed it.”
Ronan’s eyes flash as surprise and curiosity cross his face. His eyes flick down, scanning my body, before returning to my face. “You sure about that, sunflower?” he asks, his voice as low and powerful as the rolling thunder outside. “Your breathing is choppy and your eyes are wide. You look a little afraid to me.”
My spine straightens at that. I don’t want him to look at me and see the same meek, innocent girl everyone else sees. I’m sick of living for others' expectations of me. Because I’m not scared. I’m so far from scared it’s laughable. And I want to prove it.
I step closer to Ronan, our arms brushing and my chest nearly touching his with each breath. He’s taller than me, so I have to tip my head back to hold his eyes. “My entire life, everyone thought I was nothing more than the innocent, obedient pastor’s daughter. They told me what I should do, what I should feel. Don’t do the same, to me Ronan. Believe me when I say that it’s not fear I feel for you,” I admit, shivering as the back of his hand rubs mine.
He groans low in his throat, and I instantly want to hear that sound again.
“I promised myself that I’d be good now that I’m out,” he murmurs. “And corrupting a pastor’s daughter is not good.”
Even as he says it, his hand skims my waist, sending sparks through me. The storm is raging outside, but I can barely hear it over the wild thumping of my heart. My breasts brush his chest as I try to find any air, my mouth watering as I breathe in the earthy, dark scent clinging to him.
“I’m tired of being good,” I whisper, my hand pressing against his chest, needing to touch him. “Being bad sounds like so much more fun.”
He moves so fast I barely process what’s happening. I’m weightless for a second, then his mouth is on mine and something clatters as he sets me down on the edge of the desk. His hand fists my hair, tilting my head back as he deepens the kiss. I clutch at him, my hand bunching the fabric of his t-shirt, lost in the feeling of his mouth on mine. I feel like I’ve been struck by the lightning flashing outside, my whole body lighting up, my mind spinning as heat strokes through me. I moan against his mouth as his tongue finds mine. The kiss is all-consuming, dizzying, and if this is what being bad feels like, I never want to be good again.
Ronan’s other hand settles on my thigh. The skirt of my dress has bunched up from our movement, and I’ve instinctively parted my legs so he can stand between them, needing him close. His thumb strokes sensitive flesh, touching, edging higher up my leg. He moves slow enough that I could stop him if I wanted to, but all I want is for him to keep going.
