Unbroken

Book 0: Loveless, Texas

by Jay Crownover

Genres: Sagas; Small Town & Rural; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense; Western Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

From the New York Times bestselling author of the Marked Men series comes a captivating novella about a rugged rodeo star who will do anything to protect the people he loves. When rodeo star Crew Lawton loses everything in a bad bet, he has no choice but to take a new job to pay off his debts - even if it means becoming the face of an expensive male skincare line. Crew is used to getting sweaty and rustling in the dirt, not posing for photo shoots. And he's certainly not used to being bossed around by a woman who doesn't even know the difference between bulls and broncs. But Crew owes money to dangerous criminals, and he'll do anything Della says in order to pay them back and keep them far away from his family in Loveless, Texas... The launch of her new men's line for her family's company means everything to Della Deveaux, and she's not willing to let some rugged, arrogant cowboy ruin her campaign. Crew Lawton is the last man she would have chosen to represent her chic, sophisticated brand. Unfortunately, her father already invested millions in Crew's stupidly handsome face. Yet the more time they spend together, Della and Crew realize that opposites do attract. But when the time comes for Crew to face his past mistakes, will he be able to protect his family...and the woman he's come to love? "Crownover writes cowboys that make you want to pack your bags in search of a small-town ranch! Alpha and broody, they hit all the right buttons." --Melissa Foster, New York Times bestselling author

Release date: May 14, 2019

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 108

Sample

Prologue

My ribs were no match for the set of heavy brass knuckles.

“Son of a bitch,” I wheezed out.

I didn’t hear the bones crack, but I felt them and nearly puked when blinding pain shot through my body from the blow. My eyes watered, and it was a struggle to breathe, but I managed not to face-plant on the cement in front of me.

“You ever been kicked by a horse? It feels almost the same.” How I managed to hold on to the sarcasm while my whole side was on fire was a mystery. But I wasn’t ever the type to let anyone else know they had the upper hand.

The cement floor in the basement of the bar I shouldn’t have been at had questionable stains scattered from wall to wall. It looked like it was made to specifically withstand the bloodshed that came with the kind of beating I was currently taking. The man wielding the old-fashioned knuckles pulled back his fist and lined up his next shot with my face. I couldn’t suppress the shudder when his arm started to move toward me. I knew my night was going to go to shit when they tied me to a chair, hands zip-tied behind my back. There was no way to block the blow or defend myself from the upcoming pain.

I’d suffered more than one broken nose over the course of my rodeo career. I’d had my head knocked around by an excited bronco and narrowly missed being stepped on by a pissed-off horse or bull on the regular. I’d always been lucky none of the damage was too serious and that I healed fast. But it was a known fact that everyone’s luck eventually ran out. I’d been borrowing against mine for so long it was no surprise I was about to have my skull caved in by a guy who looked like a scary combination of The Rock and Vin Diesel. I’d been heading here, to this exact spot, this exact situation, for months.

I was a risk-taker, an adrenaline junky, and a gambler by nature. I chased a rush, followed after danger and excitement like an eager puppy. My older brother wanted to save the world; I was the one who set it on fire. The need for a thrill, the longing for a challenge was what led me to the rodeo. I was a Central Texas boy through and through. I knew how to ride a horse almost as early as I knew how to walk. So it wasn’t a surprise to anyone when I dropped out of high school and started chasing the amateur rodeo circuit in Texas. It also wasn’t a shock to anyone that I had an instinctive knack for staying on the back of a twisting, turning beast that wanted nothing more than to drop me on my very fine ass. I found my calling and stuck with it, broken bones and all, until I reached pro level.

But in true Lawton fashion, once I was on top, the only way for me to go from there was down. My fall started slowly at first. I had too much money, and too many people putting tempting but no-good things directly in my path. The spike of excitement from breaking in a bucking, writhing bronc had started to wane, my senses numbed from too much booze and too many late nights with willing women. I needed something more, a different edge to walk precariously along.

When I slipped and fell, it was no surprise I’d landed with a thud, here in this dive bar. If you asked anyone who still loved me, this had been my destination for a long time coming. I forced myself to keep my eyes open. I might be a screwup, but I was a screwup who faced my repercussions head-on. There was no hiding from this. I was a little pissed that the last thing I was going to see before my face got smashed in was this snarling behemoth, not a pretty girl, or a blazing southern sunset. Those were things I wanted to remember.

The air whistled a sharp warning as the other man’s tree trunk-like arm continued to swing toward my head. Sweat dripped into my eyes and down my temples as I tried to hold perfectly still and accept my fate stoically. Even though my older brother, Case, wasn’t here, I still wanted him to be proud of me for taking what was coming my way like a man. As much as I resented him, he’s always been my hero, the person I looked up to the most. Case was an annoying bastard, always questioning my motives and my integrity, but that never stopped me from trying to win his approval. I told myself, if Case were the one on his knees in a dingy basement out in the middle of nowhere, he wouldn’t make a sound. So, I was determined to suffer through this in absolute silence, no matter how many bones were broken or how many teeth I ended up losing.

I braced for the impact, but right before the rings of the glinting, metal knuckles made contact, a hand reached out and stopped the momentum of the swing. The big guy grunted in annoyance but quietly stepped back as another man, this one dressed impeccably in a three-piece suit, stepped in front of me. I let out a pained breath and let my head fall forward. I felt sweat drip slowly down my temples as it mixed with blood. I knew this was far from over, but I was taking the reprieve to collect myself.

“Hello, cowboy. Seems like you’re having a rough day.” The voice was mocking and smooth. I hated it.

Looking up into the calm and completely unaffected face of Dante Vargas, I wondered if the brass knuckles would’ve been easier to take than whatever punishment the soulless gangster was bound to hand down. He was the man I owed over half a million dollars. I made good money, my problem was holding on to it. I spent it as fast as it came in, so while coming up with that sum shouldn’t be much of a problem, it was in fact a huge problem. I didn’t have the money, Dante knew that, but he let me keep making bets anyways. He had me over a barrel, and we both knew it. This beatdown was nothing more than a friendly reminder that he owned my ass, and the time was coming for me to make good on whatever scheme he had in mind.

I couldn’t remember what I placed my first bet on, but I did recall the buzz that ran through me when I won a truckload of cash for nothing more than a lucky guess. I had money to spend, and it was a vice that was easy to hide from prying eyes, both the public’s and my family’s. I convinced myself it was harmless fun. But before I knew it, I was so deep in debt I lost my condo in Dallas, my truck, the entire college fund I’d been working on saving up for my sister, and my great-granddaddy’s pocket watch, which was pretty much the only thing my old man had ever given to me.

“You lost your cowboy hat somewhere along the way, Crew.” Vargas’s tone was lightly sardonic and sent a shiver down my spine. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to flinch when he slid the blade of a very sharp knife right next to the skin on my wrists to cut through the zip ties keeping my hands behind me. He was setting me free, but there was also an implicate warning in having the blade so close to my unprotected skin.

I tilted my chin defiantly and narrowed my eyes at him. The enforcer standing behind him let out a low growl of warning, and I wanted nothing more than to flip him off, but I refrained. “Must have fallen off when your boys hustled me into your limo.”

I never went anywhere without a black Stetson on my head. It was part of my brand, a trademark of my public image, and a security blanket to hide behind whenever anyone tried to get close enough to look behind the mask I wore so effortlessly.

“That’s a shame. It was a nice hat.” Dante smiled at me, and the expression made my skin crawl. “You lose a lot of nice things, don’t you Crew?”

I grunted in response and tried to focus on his words and not on the pain radiating from my side. “I think you know the answer to that question, Vargas, seeing as you’re the one who’s taken most of those nice things away from me.”

“Ahhh…well, that’s not exactly accurate, now is it? You took risks, and they didn’t pay off. That’s hardly my fault. Unfortunately, you’ve got nothing left of value to barter with, unless you want to talk about your sister’s bar back in your hometown. She seems to be turning a tidy little profit down there, and I’m always on the lookout for legitimate business opportunities to get my hands on.” The way Dante watched for my reaction when he mentioned my sister should have been an indication he was prepared for me to react violently.

Which I did.

Cracked ribs and bruised body be damned. I was on my feet in a heartbeat reaching for his throat. I forgot all about the brute with the brass knuckles until they smashed into my cheek and sent me flying backward onto my ass. The cement made for a rough landing, and the coppery scent of blood made my head spin, but I still managed to bark out, “Stay away from my family, Vargas.” Especially my sister. She was the only one who still tolerated me most days.

I swiped at the blood on my face and narrowed my eyes at Dante as he started to pace back and forth in front of me with his hands laced together behind his back.

“Don’t give me a reason to go anywhere near them, Crew. I have a way for you to earn back some of the money you owe me. The key word is some. Even if you do this, you’re still going to have to come up with the balance, plus interest.” He grinned at me again, and there was no mistaking the malicious gleam in his gaze. We both k. . .