Indebted: 'Til Death Do Us Part (Teal & Trent Book 3)

  Indebted: ’Til Death Do Us Part

  Teal and Trent 3

  Inger Iversen

  Inger Iversen Books, LLC

  Indebted: ‘Til Death Do Us Part © 2017, Inger Iversen

  All rights reserved.

  First electronic publication: September 2017

  Published by: Inger Iversen

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review. Audio samples may not be uploaded and shared without permission in writing from the author.

  Note from the Author: This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and situations in this novel are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and should not be constructed as real. Any resemblances to persons living or dead, actual events, locale, organizations are completely coincidental and wholly unintentional. The author does not have control over and does not assume any responsibility for third party websites or their content.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Edited by: Victoria Schmitz | Crimson Tide Editorial

  Cover design by: Regina Wamba | Mae I Design Photography

  Cover Model: Ty Sundeen

  Synopsis Edit: Kristina Circelli

  Formatting: Inger Iversen

  Inger Iversen

  www.ingeriversen.com

  Contents

  Introduction

  Suggested Reading Order

  Note from the Author

  Quote

  I. Kentucky 2010

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  II. Six Years Later - Teal & Trent

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Epilogue

  Blackwater Rising - Ace Book 1

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  #amwriting

  Also by Inger Iversen

  About the Author

  Introduction

  Months after opening up his heart – and his past – Trent is looking forward to a future with his new bride and daughter. He’s recovered from the near-fatal shooting, hopes to purchase a farm for his beloved Teal, and is building a life free from the horrors of his past.

  But the past has a bad habit of never staying buried, and now it’s coming after his entire family. Because Trent didn’t reveal all his secrets to Teal, and the deepest, darkest secret he’d always kept just out of reach is about to break the surface.

  An old debt is being called in, one that will pull Trent back into the world of sex, lies, and murder he’s fought so hard to escape. And in the wake of devastating betrayals, he’ll discover who is truly loyal to him, as he agrees to pay that debt with an unforgivable crime.

  Trent will stop at nothing to keep Teal and his daughter safe. Even if that means losing them forever.

  Meet Ace, Gator, and Mutt from the First Sons of the Revolution MC, and enjoy the first chapter and first look at the spin-off featuring the badass, no-shit-taking men from Blackwater Rising!

  Suggested Reading Order

  Your enjoyment may be enhanced if you follow this order:

  Incarcerated: Letters from Inmate 92510 Katie & Logan 1

  Inevitable: Love and War | Teal & Trent 1

  Indelible: Beneath His Ink | Teal & Trent 2

  Rogue in Love: Lex and Thea | standalone novella

  Open Wounds: Abel and Hope | standalone novella

  Indebted: Til' Death Do Us Part Teal & Trent 3

  INGER IVERSEN

  Follow me on BOOKBUB to find out when the next Teal and Trent book is released! You can also join my new FACEBOOK GROUP.

  Quote

  Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.

  -Buddha

  Part I

  Kentucky 2010

  He’d hauled her from the wreckage of her past, yet year after year, something from that old inferno beckoned her, and Trent sensed he was destined to follow.

  Chapter 1

  PART 1 KY 2010

  Happy Birthday, Baby…

  “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday—”

  The sound of Shayla’s screeching voice set Trent’s ears ablaze. He lifted his hands from her writhing hips and cupped his ears, sure blood had to be leaking from them.

  “Dear Tre-ent, Happy birthday to you!” She finished the song as she sat on his cock, riding him up and down like a goddamn pro.

  Trent glanced away from her, pissed at what her eyes and actions conveyed to him. She was high as fuck—again. From her dilated pupils, flushed face, and jittery actions, Trent knew. The closer and closer it got to the anniversary of her rape, Shayla found herself down in Blackwater with all the other prescription pill-heads, snorting memories away.

  She’d made it back home, twenty minutes past his actual fucking birthday, reeking of repressed memories and bad decisions. As much as he’d wanted to turn her ass away, he couldn’t. Fuck, he never said no.

  An hour later, after a shower and a meal, she made her way to Trent’s bed and onto his cock before he could refuse her. He’d turned right over, grabbed a condom from the nightstand and laid back while Shayla did all the work. The only problem was, Trent was not high as fuck, and having a high buxom chick ride him with little regard for his dick was not a fucking turn on.

  Trent pulled out and flipped her over, pressing her face into the quilt. Thrusting back into her, he poured his anger and shame into her. The position change turned her singing into grunts and moans of pleasure. From day one, Trent and Shayla had never made love; they used each other’s bodies as a tool to release emotions.

  He’d hoped that one day he could love Shayla, that one day they would both move past the anger and bullshit of the past and create a life together. But reality was a bitch, and that shit was never going to happen. Having been with her as long as he had now, Trent wasn’t sure if it were his sense of obligation, or actual emotions that kept her in his bed.

  As her moans deepened, Trent thrust harder and deeper. The ache at the base of his spine turned into a ripple of pleasure, as his balls drew up and his come filled the condom. Trent pulled out and reached between Shayla’s thighs. His fingers deftly found her clit, making quick, hard strokes over the bud. He pushed her deeper into the mattress with his other hand, and Shayla bucked and writhed beneath him until her body went tight and her orgasm took her.

  When he continued to rub her clit until her body twitched beneath him, she pushed his hand away and squeezed her legs tight. “Dang, baby.” Breathless words fell from her lips. “You always fuck me so good.”

  Trent rolled his eyes. That wasn’t shit compared to the things they’d done before. Their sex life was waning, and while Trent wasn’t one to cheat, if things didn’t change, Shayla’s title of “his girl” would change to “his ex-girl”.

  After his post-coital buzz fizzled, his anger flared to
life. “You want to tell me why the fuck you were down in Blackwater?”

  Shayla stiffened, sobering up. “You know what I go out there for.” Turning over, she faced him as he pulled the used condom from his cock. “Not sure why we go through this shit each year.” She pulled her shirt down over her breasts and tucked herself into the covers.

  Trent jumped from the bed and headed into the bathroom. Throwing the condom in the toilet, he flushed and watched as the latex barrier swirl down the drain and out of Shayla’s reach. For the last few months, Shayla had been hinting that she wanted to start a family. Trent had scoffed at the fucked-up idea, then started taking extra precautions to stop the crazy chick from nailing his ass to a cross with a kid.

  Moving to the sink, he adjusted the water, shoving his hands under the spray as he spoke. “Because each year, you come back high as a kite, after promising you won’t take your ass there again.”

  Making his way back to the room, Trent stopped in front of the mirror. His tension-lined face and red eyes belied his anger. He knew where she’d gone, and he’d fucking waited up for her ass to come home. Never would he tell her about the sleepless nights he spent each year, hoping she didn’t overdose or get herself fucking killed.

  Last year, he’d even ridden down to Blackwater in search of her, with no fucking luck. When he’d gotten home, he found her sleeping in the bed of Logan’s old truck. His heart had flipped in his chest, seeing her blonde hair in a disarray, pale skin almost glowing under the moonlight.

  Trent rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to relieve the tension building there as he pushed the old memory away. “But why Blackwater? Why there, of all the fucking places to go to get the Oxy?”

  Shayla sat up on the bed, her arms clasped tightly around her knees as she watched him. “Do you really want to know?”

  Trent wasn’t sure he did. Regardless, he made his way to the bed, using the light shining in from his window as a guide. Sliding under the covers, he shoved a pillow under his head, and laid back. “I don’t know.” His emotionless tone caused her to quirk a brow. “Do I?”

  She could’ve easily called his bluff, because they both knew damned well he wanted to know. In his defense, who wouldn’t want to try and figure this chick out? She’d been pulled from the wreckage of her past, yet something from those burning flames called her back year after year and Trent felt destined to follow. The thought should have sent him running, but instead it rooted him in place. He would not let her destroy herself. Why would she go back home, year after year, to the mother who’d abandoned her, and the stepfather who’d raped her?

  When she didn’t speak, Trent’s gaze darkened menacingly. “Was he there?”

  Shayla’s gaze shot back to him. “He’s always there.” Her voice sounded vacant, tired.

  Perhaps she meant in spirit, or inside her, he didn’t know. Trent rolled to his side to face her completely. He watched as she hugged her knees to her chest and picked at a loose thread at the hem of her shirt. He wanted to be angry with her, and at times, he wanted to throttle her, but whenever she revealed this side of herself, Trent faltered. She appeared so delicate, as blonde hair fell over her dainty shoulder in waves.

  He reached out and smoothed the hair from her face. Her blue eyes gave off a soft, innocent glow; the sight at odds with her tempestuous past and cynical views.

  Trent reached for her fingers, pulling them away from the fraying hem. “Stop. Look at me.”

  She heeded his soft demand. Shadows and light played across her face as a car flew down the street, shining lights through the bedroom window. The misery in her eyes made him sick to his stomach. He had saved her, or at least he thought he had. He’d given her a home, a job, and his affection. What the fuck else did anyone need?

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” Shayla moved under the covers.

  “Trying to figure you out,” he answered honestly.

  She quirked a smile, the innocence in her soft gaze now gone. “Ah, Trent. That is a lost cause. Many have tried—”

  “And all have failed,” he finished with a wry smile.

  A few weeks prior, Shayla had revealed she was pregnant. Trent had been scared shitless of the announcement, so later, when he found out it was a lie, he’d gone ballistic. However, Trent knew he couldn’t be the one to throw her out. Not tonight of all nights. It was fucked up that his birthday was an anniversary for the major source of pain in her life.

  He had a hard-fucking time seeing past the shit that was right in front of his face. This woman needed help he couldn’t offer, sure, but he’d be damned if he’d let her go.

  When Trent had been offered a different life—one without endless hunger and constant beatings—he’d fucking ran with it. He’d worked hard and busted his ass to make sure he never went without.

  Trent rolled over onto his back. “Did you go into work today?” He threw an arm over his eyes, hoping to block the streetlight out. He knew she hadn't.

  “No.”

  “Why the fuck not?”

  “Shit, Trent,” she rolled over, shifting the bed, “I don’t want to work at the shop.”

  “Then what the fuck do you want to do?” He’d pulled strings to get her a job at Al’s grocery store, the Stop and Go, and The Pit Stop. Three jobs, and three times she’d walked out on them.

  “You’ve got plenty of money.” Her churlish tone angered him. “Why do I even need to work?”

  “The fuck, Shayla! You aren’t my damned wife. And I think I’ve supported you enough, don’t you think? What other guy would sit in his house, on his birthday, and wait for his girl to come home from getting high?”

  When she didn’t speak, he continued, “You want to lay at home all day? Fine, clean the fucking house.”

  “I’m not good at cleaning.”

  Trent turned away from her and closed his eyes. There wasn’t much Shayla was good at, other than fucking and cursing. And lately, the fucking wasn’t so great.

  Chapter 2

  Ace in the Hole…

  Trent woke from a dream and reached for his gun. The fog from his sleep-addled mine slowly faded as sounds from his living room became clear. With gun cocked and loaded, he silently threw his legs over the side of the bed and stood. The sounds of arguing emanated from the front room and he recognized Shayla’s voice.

  “Fuck,” he whispered on a rough groan. Placing his gun back on the nightstand, he sighed.

  Who the fuck was she arguing with, and why the fuck was it happening in his house at—a glance at the clock—three in the morning? He’d barely been asleep two hours.

  Trent headed to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he prepared himself for Shayla and whoever she was fussing with. Just as he turned the knob, the door burst open, and the blunt force of it blasted him in the face, sending him to the floor. He rolled toward his gun the second his ass made contact to the ground, but the sight of a gun barrel in his face had him coming to an abrupt halt.

  The man at the helm jeered, his green eyes full of mirth.

  Trent knew he was dead, and braced for the shot. A point-blank gunshot to the face would be messy as fuck. He stared into the barrel, briefly wondering if he’d see the bullet before it hit, then his mind was hijacked with scenes of bone fragments and fatty tissue splattering over the wall.

  Fuck that. Trent wouldn’t die at the mercy of some punk’s gun. “The fuck do you want?” he spat. His eyes lifted past the tatted knuckles of the man holding the gun. A thick, black beard covered the guy’s tanned face, along with a tattoo under his right eye—FSMC, in a thick black font—and a bushy brow that rose when he noticed Trent taking him in.

  Puckering his lips, he asked, “You think I’m pretty?”

  Trent growled out his frustrations. Having a huge motherfucker lean over him, while he was half-fucking naked, pushed his anger to the limits. At this point, a bullet didn’t seem so fucking bad.

  “Oh, fucking hell.” Shayla’s voice cut into the darkness. “Ace, don�
��t!”

  “You know this guy?” Trent bit out. He’d never put his hands on a woman before, but Shayla was tempting the fuck out of him.

  The gun shifted as Ace used it to motion for Trent to rise. “Get the fuck up, buddy.” The man’s thick accent verified the fucker was from Blackwater. They weren’t but ten miles from his hometown, Paris, Kentucky, yet their accents made it seem as if they were from the middle of Texas.

  Slowly, keeping his eyes on Ace, he got to his feet. “The fuck you want?”

  Shayla finally got the good sense to turn on a light. Pain shot through his eyes and he raised his hand over his eyes.

  “Nah, man. Keep that deadly weapon at your side, Marine.” At Trent’s narrowed gaze, Ace gave a toothy grin, moving the aim of his gun to his chest. “Get the fuck over here, blondie.”

  Trent chanced a glance at Shayla. She stood at the light switch in her light pink sleep shirt. She looked frail and afraid, and that shit made Trent nervous. He didn’t know this man, but he knew Shayla, and fear was not an emotion she exposed. Even when the moment called for it, Shayla stood ramrod straight, barking loud as a fucking Rottweiler.