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The Kidnapped Christmas Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 3)

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The Kidnapped Christmas Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 3)
Jane Porter

       A Taming of the Sheenans Novella



Chapter One




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It was quiet in the truck.

The kind of quiet that made Trey know trouble was brewing. And if anyone  knew trouble, it was he, Trey Sheenan, voted least likely to succeed  (at anything legal, moral, or responsible) his senior year at Marietta  High.

At eighteen, he'd been proud of his reputation. It'd been hard earned,  with rides in the back of sheriffs' cars, visits to court, trips to  juvenile hall, and later, extended stays at Montana's delightful Pine  Hills, where bad boys were sent to be sorted out. Reformed.

It hadn't worked.

Trey Sheenan was so bad there was no sorting him out. Maybe back then he  hadn't wanted to be sorted out, and so he'd continued his wild ways,  elevating trouble to an art form, growing from a hot-headed teenager  with zero self-control, to a hot-headed man with questionable  self-control.

Now at thirty-six, after four years in Montana's correctional system, he was tired of trouble and sick of his reputation.

Just hours ago he'd been paroled, a whole year early. It'd come as a  shock when the warden came to him early this morning, letting him know  that he was being released today. Trey knew his brothers had been  working on getting him released early for good behavior, as Trey had  become a model inmate (at least after the first year), and the back bone  of the prison system's successful MCE Ranch, but he'd never imagined  he'd be out now. In time for Christmas.

It gave him pause. Made him hope. Fueled his resolve to sort things out with McKenna.

He missed her and his boy TJ so much that he felt dead inside. But now  he was out, coming home. Finally he had the opportunity to make things  right.

"It was sure good to see you step outside those gates," Troy said, breaking the silence.

Trey nodded, remembering the moment he'd spotted Troy standing outside  the prison entrance in front of his big black SUV. He'd nearly smiled.  And then when Troy clapped him in a big hard bear hug, Trey's eyes had  stung.

It'd been a long time since he'd been hugged by anyone. A long time since he'd felt like anything, or anyone.

Prison had done the trick, breaking him down, hollowing him out, teaching him humility and gratitude.

Humility and gratitude, along with loneliness, shame and pain.

His dad had died while he was at Deer Lodge, last March. He hadn't been allowed to attend the funeral. Talk about pain.

He shifted ever so slightly in the passenger seat and flexed his right  foot to ease the tension building inside of him, aware that Troy might  not actually be looking at him, but he was keeping him in his peripheral  vision. Smart. You didn't let a Sheenan out of your sight. Especially  not Trey the Dangerous. Trey the Destroyer. Hadn't he even tattooed that  on the inside of his bicep on his nineteenth birthday? What a joke he'd  been.

What an ass he'd become.

"Should hit Bozeman in thirty minutes or so," Troy said.

Trey said nothing.

"Want to stop for anything? Need anything?"

Trey shook his head. Silence descended. Troy ran a hand over his jaw. It  really was too quiet in the truck, what with the volume down on the  Sirius radio station, muffling the country songs, making the lyrics an  annoying mumbo jumbo, so that the only other sound was the salted  asphalt of I-90 beneath the tires, and the windshield wiper blades  swishing back and forth, resolutely batting away the falling snow.

He itched to lean forward and turn up the radio volume, but it wasn't  his truck and he didn't want to be demanding. He needed to prove to his  family and community that he wasn't the hot-head Sheenan that  intimidated and destroyed, but a man who protected. He was ready to show  everyone who he really was. A solid, responsible man, a good man, who  was committed to making things right.

And the first person he had to see was McKenna. He was dying to see her,  and TJ. It'd been a long time since he'd seen either of them. Two years  and a month almost to the day. It had been Thanksgiving weekend the  last time he saw TJ, his son. The boy was three. McKenna had been so  very silent and sad, sad in a different way than he'd seen before. He  hadn't realized that would be their last visit. He hadn't realized she'd  decided then that she was through …                        
       
           



       

He winced at the hot lance of pain shooting through him.

It'd taken him a long time to process that she wasn't coming back. In  the beginning of his incarceration, she came every two weeks with the  baby. And then gradually she came once a month and then every five to  six weeks until that last trip for Thanksgiving when she never returned  again.

He'd about lost his mind at Deer Lodge. He'd died in ways you couldn't explain.

She wouldn't write him back. She wouldn't visit. She just … cut him out.

That was when he truly suffered. That was when prison became a living  hell. He was trapped. Hostage. He couldn't do anything about it but  write and write and write …

He must have made a sound because Troy suddenly looked at him, brow creased. "You doing okay?"

Trey clamped his jaw tight and shoved all the worry and fear deep down  into that tough hard heart of his and snapped the lid, locking it,  containing it.

He wouldn't let guilt and anxiety get the best of him.

He'd sort it out. Make it work. There was only one girl for him, one family, and that was McKenna and TJ.

But he had put her through hell. He was the first to admit that he'd  done her wrong. She didn't deserve any of the pain and heartache he'd  given her …  the trouble he'd dished out in spades.

So he had one task: fix the mess he'd made of their lives.

Tonight, tomorrow, sometime this week after he'd cleaned up and calmed  himself down, he was going to go to her and apologize for his stupid  asinine immature self and beg her forgiveness and show her he was  different. Changed.

She'd see that he'd finally grown up, and he was ready to be the husband  she deserved. Ready to be the father TJ needed and a real family at  last.

A wedding, a honeymoon, more kids, the whole bit. He couldn't wait, either.

"Worried about going home?" Troy asked, breaking the silence.

"No," Trey said roughly, his voice a deep, raw rasp. He winced at the  sound of it, but what did you expect? He hadn't talked much the past  four years. He'd never been a big communicator to start with, but prison  just put the silent in him.

"Home for Christmas," Troy said.

"Yeah." And it would be nice. He'd missed the ranch. Marietta. Everyone.

But mostly he'd missed McKenna and his boy.

Just thinking about her and TJ made his gut burn, and his bones ache. Their memory was a pain that never went away.

He dug the heel of his foot into the floor and pressed his shoulder  blades against the seat back, pinning himself to the black leather.

Warden and his officers might think it was their excellent corrections  program that had turned him around, but it wasn't the work program, or  the ranch, or the counseling. It was losing McKenna.

They'd been together for years, since high school. Well, they'd been  together off and on for years, but in the months-or years-they were off,  there had never been another woman he'd loved. Sure, he'd screwed a  few. He was a Sheenan and Sheenans weren't saints, but he'd never  cheated on her when they were together.

He'd rather cut his dick off than betray his woman that way.

And then his conscience scraped and whispered, just like the windshield wiper blades working the glass.

You betrayed her in other ways, though.

The drinking. The fighting. The small bar fights. The big bar fights.

And finally, the afternoon at the Wolf Den that changed everything …

"You've been home for a few days now?" Trey asked his twin, wanting to  find out about McKenna and not sure how because Troy hadn't brought her  up, nor had he mentioned TJ, and Troy always talked about the five year  old, wanting to keep Trey in the loop.

"A week."

"What's it like without Dad around?"

"Quiet." Troy hesitated. "It's just Dillon there at the ranch, you know.  I'm still dividing my time between San Francisco and Marietta, and when  I am here, I'm usually at The Graff."

"Things still good with your little librarian?"

"Yeah."

"Wedding date set?"

"We're talking February, maybe around Valentine's Day since we were  paired up for that ball. But things are kind of hairy at work and I'm  honestly not sure a February wedding would be the best thing."                       
       
           



       

"How hairy is hairy?"

"Got hit with a big lawsuit. It should sort out but its damned expensive and time consuming until then."

"Then wait till it's settled to marry. No sense being all stressed out over a wedding."