CLAIMED IN THE MOUNTAINS

“I gave you two months, Josh.”

I drag out a chair and sit across from the man who still hasn’t paid what he owes me. Five grand in gambling debt—and not a single cent to show for it.

“I want my money.”

“Listen, Brody… man. I still don’t have it. If you could just give me, like, a few more—”

I raise my hand—sharp, silent—cutting him off mid-stammer. He knows better than to keep talking.

Leaning back, slow and deliberate, I lace my fingers behind my head like I’ve got nowhere else to be. Let him squirm.

I take a slow look around the kitchen of Josh’s double-wide. It’s a goddamn disaster—sink full of crusted dishes, beer bottles scattered across the counters, trash spilling over onto the floor.

The air reeks of stale beer, rotting food, and something sour beneath it all.

Fucking disgusting.

I narrow my gaze at Josh again.

“You must not have taken me seriously when I told you what would happen if you didn’t pay me,” I say, voice low.

Josh stares back at me, hesitant, weighing whether to speak or keep quiet.

“Speak,” I grunt.

“I heard you, Brody. Loud and clear.” He swallows hard. “I was down in Brightwood this past weekend—at the Lone Coyote. Had a real lucky night Friday, but things went sideways fast. Made a few bad calls… lost everything by the end.”
His eyes flicker with panic, voice speeding up like he’s trying to outrun the consequences.
“But listen—I can get your money back, I swear. I just need a little more time.”

He watches me, desperate, like the right words might save him.

A sudden knock echoes from the front door.

I don’t move. Just flick my eyes toward Josh.

“Expecting company?”

He shifts in his seat. “M-my sister, Shyanne.”

I nod toward the door. “Better not keep her fucking waiting, then.”

Josh jumps from his seat and hurries to the front door, yanking it open and planting himself in the frame like a human barricade.

“Listen, Shy, now’s not a good time—”

“What’s the matter with you?” she snaps. “I told you this morning I was coming by after work. I brought you real food, not that microwave shit you live on.”

Then I see her—the woman with the voice like warm whiskey. She barrels right past her brother, arms loaded with grocery bags, apparently unfazed by the tension in the room.

She stops cold though, when she sees me sitting at the kitchen table. Her wide green eyes dart between me and her brother, suddenly reading the danger in the air.

She drops the grocery bags onto the counter with a heavy thud, then whirls on her brother, eyes narrowing with frustration.

“What did you do, Josh?”

“It’s nothing, sis.” Josh forces a weak smile. “I appreciate you coming by, but… you really need to go. Now.”

“I’m not leaving until someone tells me what the hell this is,” she snaps, voice sharp with defiance.

Then she turns to me—and fuck, if my heart doesn’t forget how to beat.
That look in her eyes. The flush in her cheeks. Full breasts straining against her thin t-shirt. The delicious curve of her hips as she squares off with me. Breathtaking.

“What do you want with my brother?” she demands.

I clear my throat.

“Sit.”

I nod toward the open chair across from me, my tone leaving no room for argument.

She sinks into the chair, spine stiff, hands clasped tight in her lap, eyes shooting daggers across the table like she’s ready to cut me down where I sit.

“Well?” she huffs.

I let my gaze linger on her, voice low and measured.
“Tell me, Shyanne… how have we never met before? Town this small—it’s damn near impossible, I’d imagine.”

She blinks, caught off guard by the shift. Then, a faint smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

“Tell me what you want with my brother… and I’ll tell you.”

“Sassy thing, aren’t you?” I laugh, running a hand over my beard. “Alright. Your brother owes me five grand. I’m here to collect.”

Shyanne shoots a sharp look at her brother, shock breaking across her face.
“You’re still gambling?” She says, voice tight with disbelief. “I thought we were past this, Josh.”

The hurt spreads through her expression like wildfire—pure, raw. You can see it clear as day—she loves him. She worries about him.

“Now answer my question,” I demand, bringing her attention back to me.

“I moved to Brightwood last year. I’m a sophomore at BU now. I’m just here for the summer, and working part-time at the Quik2Go.” She glances at her brother, guilt flickering across her face. “And apparently doing a lousy job of keeping him out of trouble.”

Josh rolls his eyes and cracks his knuckles nervously.

It all clicks into place.

Jesus—she can’t be more than nineteen.

No wonder I never noticed her before… she wasn’t exactly legal.

But now, Shyanne is a grown woman in front of me—strong, brave, and defiant all at once. In my thirty-eight years on this earth, I’ve never met a woman who makes me feel like this. My veins feel like they’re on fire, flooded with life, need, and raw desperation to have her. Own her.

“And why is it your job to keep your brother out of trouble?” I ask.

“It’s not,” Josh cuts in, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag.

I shoot him a glare. “I asked your sister.” Then I lock eyes with Shyanne.

“Just… the way it’s always been,” she says quietly. “Since our dad got locked up. And Mom…” Her voice falters. “She passed two years ago. Drug overdose.”

Her gaze shifts to her brother, guilt flickering again. “I should’ve stayed here with you, Josh, instead of moving into Aunt Lilah’s house for the summer. I just… I hate this place.”

She glances around the double-wide, sadness pulling at her features.

Suddenly, her expression shifts—braver than before—and she turns her full attention to me.

“Tell me your name,” she says.

“Brody Callahan.”

“Shit,” she mutters under her breath.

I chuckle. “Something wrong?”

“Figures,” she says, eyes narrowing. “I know exactly who you are. I’ve heard what people say about you in town.”

“And what have you heard?”

“You’re a cold, sadistic prick.” Her voice doesn’t waver. “And the people around you get hurt.”

Josh rushes to his sister’s side, a hand landing on her shoulder.
“Shyanne, stop. Brody… man, she doesn’t know what she’s—”

She swats his hand away and springs up from the chair.
“Don’t you dare, Josh. I know exactly what I’m saying. This is all your damn fault anyway, so don’t you start with me.”

I watch her hands curl into fists at her sides.

Most people know better than to talk to me like this.

But her? She throws the truth at me like it's nothing, and I’m not used to that. Not from anyone.

Especially not from a woman like her.

“I’ll give you the money. Just give me a few days to get it from the bank,” she says.

Before I can respond, Josh blurts out, “Really, Shy? You’d help me out? I promise I’ll pay you back.”
He steps forward to hug her, but she shifts out of reach.

“This is the last time, Josh. I can’t keep doing this.”
Her gaze snaps back to me.
“So… do we have a deal?”

I rise from my chair and close the distance between us.
Josh retreats until his back hits the kitchen counter, but Shyanne—God, she holds her ground. And I swear my cock stirs against my zipper.

“No,” I answer. “We don’t have a deal.”

My gaze slides to Josh over her shoulder. “What kind of man lets his little sister settle his debt?”

Then I reach out, brush my thumb along her jaw, and she doesn’t flinch.

Fuck me.

“You think this is about the money?” My voice drops into a growl. “I could burn ten grand and never feel it. This is about principle, sweetheart.”

I brush her hair over her shoulder, letting my fingers trail, lingering against the soft line of her collarbone.

“I won’t take your money,” I murmur. “But you… you feel like payment.”