Unleashed #4

UNLEASHED:

HOT
ALPHA ROMANCE, VOLUME 4

CALLIE
HARPER

Copyright © 2016 Callie
Harper

Cover
Design Jada D’Lee Designs

Ebook
Formatting by Jesse Gordon

All
rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to
real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights
reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any
format without the permission except in the case of brief quotations
used for review. If you have not purchased this book or received a
copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.

The
author acknowledges the trademarked status of products referred to in
this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without
permission.

This
book contains mature content, including graphic sex. Please do not
continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of
content is disturbing to you.

• CALLIE HARPER’S BOOKS
  
• CHAPTER 1
  
• CHAPTER 2
  
• CHAPTER 3
  
• CHAPTER 4
  
• CHAPTER 5
  
• CHAPTER 6
  
• CHAPTER 7
  
• CHAPTER 8
  
• CHAPTER 9
  
• CHAPTER 10
  
• EPILOGUE (Declan)
  
• EPILOGUE (Kara)
  
• UNDONE, VOLUME 1 (the Beg for It series)
  
• ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  
• CONTACT
  

Off
Limits: A Stepbrother MMA Romance

Unleashed:
Hot Alpha Romance
,
Volumes 1-4 (Beg for It series,
Book 1)

Undone
(Beg for It series, Book 2),
released in March 2016.

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 for 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 shoulders 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 then and 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 with a slight British accent spoke to me with
a sense of urgency about the cause. He clutched his cane with his
thin 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 generous 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 my driver
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.

Had she chickened out
at the door? She must have felt intimidated. I’d been an idiot. I
should have made arrangements to meet her outside so I could walk her
in to the party. If I hadn’t been so out of it when I’d said
goodbye to her at the hotel room, I would have planned better. I’d
been running late, which I never did, confused and unfocused and
wanting nothing more than to get back into bed with Kara. It had made
me careless, sloppy, and I hadn’t told her to text me when she got
there. I could have walked her up the steps, arm in arm. I could have
shown her around, introduced her, made sure she felt comfortable.
Instead I’d been stupid and now who knew where she’d disappeared
to. She probably didn’t even bring her cell phone with her to the
party. She had no way to get in touch with me if she needed help.

Heart pounding in my
chest, I burst into the hotel room.

“Kara?” My voice
seemed to echo in what immediately became clear was an empty hotel
room. “Kara, where are you?” I played out the part in every
horror movie, the idiot who continues calling out and searching even
though everyone including him knew she wasn’t there. She was gone.

On the counter I saw a note.
Something cold gripped my gut. This wasn’t going to be good.

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 looked up. My fingers
kept pinching the note tight and bloodless. I walked over to the bar
and poured myself a drink, a strong one. After a long, hard swallow
of liquor, I read the note again.

“Someone else has
come through for me.” Had she been trying to cut my heart out of my
chest cavity with a jagged knife and no anesthesia? Had that been her
intent in writing the note? Because if that’s what she’d been
trying to do, she’d done a real bang-up job.

In one long gulp I
finished my drink, the burning heat punishing my throat as it slid
down. With a smash I threw the empty glass against the wall. It hit
with such force it shattered, spraying bits and shards across the
room. It would require a hell of a clean up job, but I’d pay for it
and some poor SOBs would come in here with rags and vacuums. Before
the end of the day tomorrow it would look good as new.

How about this fucking
mess I found myself in? How the fuck would that get cleaned up? I
still held the poisonous note. “I don’t need you anymore.”

“Fuck!” I bellowed
into the empty hotel room, wishing I were outside or at the gym,
somewhere else where I could channel everything into the physical.
This sea storm of emotions rioting through me, I didn’t do this. I
did control. I governed. Not this, a tornado of fury and pain
whipping through me.

“Fuck!” I swore
again, grabbing the entire bottle of Jack Daniels and tipping it to
my mouth. Who the hell was she with? Who had bailed her out? How
hadn’t I known about it? I took another swig, needing the burn and
please God the ensuing numbness.

I’d been such an
asshole. Played like a fucking piano. How had I not seen this coming?
How had I let all of my defenses down, let myself become such a
chump? She’d always been in this for the money, nothing more. She’d
come to my office with bills to pay and asked for my checkbook.
Somehow I’d lost sight of that. It was always about money, hadn’t
I learned that enough times? That’s what it had been about the
first time around, when Harlan had run me off his land and away from
his daughter. I hadn’t had enough money.

Funny thing, now I had
so much and it still wasn’t enough. Someone else had come through
for her.

From deep in my chest,
I let out a roar, a great bellow of pain and anger. I wanted to kill
the man who won her, the highest bidder. But most of all I wanted to
kill that soft part in myself, the part that had been about to
declare eternal love. At least I’d been spared that humiliation.
How much more raw would this feel, had I bent down on one knee and
asked her to be mine?