Tattered Hearts: Durant Brothers, #3

Tattered Hearts

Durant Brothers,

Book 3

Rayne Rachels 

TATTERED HEARTS

Copyright © 2018 RA Kirschke-Cole writing as Rayne Rachels, and RAKC Books

All rights reserved.

For more information about the author, please visit http://raynerachels.blogspot.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the Author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Epilogue

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Chapter 1

HANK DURANT SAT UP and looked around the room, expecting to find himself surrounded by hunters, but no one was there. He was along in his bed like he was every night. Taking a couple of deep breathes, he tossed the wet, tangled covers off of him. Swinging his legs off the bed, he sat on the edge. His heart pounded erratically against his ribcage. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face and neck. It continued rolling down between his shoulder blades and to his waist. As usual the bedding was soaked. The nightly ritual of stripping the bed was something he wasn’t looking forward to doing. It was just another unwanted reminder of the nightmares and the fact he was slowly going insane.

His bear growled as it paced back and forth. Every few minutes it stood up on its hind legs and pushed against the cage keeping it inside the man.

Testing.

Searching.

But not finding a weakness in the mental barrier Hank had erected, the beast dropped back down onto all four paws and started pacing again like a caged animal on display at the zoo.

Settle down. Take a nap, but quit that pacing, Hank growled at the beast in his head.

The black bear bared its sharp teeth as it growled its disapproval at being told what to do. It made another deep growl, and started pacing again.

The man knew keeping the bear locked away wasn’t healthy for either of them, but he couldn’t risk the animal going on an unstoppable rampage once it got out.

Hank ran his hands over his bald head and down his face. Not even his brothers knew exactly how bad he was messed up in the head. He had gotten good at hiding it from them.

Hell! They didn’t even know he wasn’t shifting anymore.

His hands curled into fists. He closed his eyes. With his elbows on his knees, he rested his head on his fists. Between the mental cage he kept around his bear, the vivid nightmares, and lack of sleep, he was beyond exhaustion.

The nightmares used to show up maybe once every six months, but since the attack on Forrest’s mate, Audrey, the nightmares had become a nightly event and had grown worse after Wes almost died.

Every night he relived the murders of his parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Every night he saw the bodies, and smelled the blood and charred flesh. And he relived what he did to keep his brothers safe.

Forest and Wes never knew about the hunters who were waiting for them to return, or what the men were doing to pass the time, but he remembered every detail, every scent, every scream. As the oldest, it was his burden to carry. It fell to him to protect his brothers and keep them safe.

Hank opened his eyes. His hands dropped to his sides. He stood up and walked to the bathroom and turned on the light.

The nightmares taunted him. They were a constant reminder of his failure to protect his brothers and their mates.

He clinched his hands until his fingernails dug into his palms, but the pain didn’t register in his brain.

Opening his hands, Hank stared the moon-shaped cuts and the blood dripping off his fingertips. In his mind he saw the blood of the men he had killed.  

Hank looked at his reflection in the mirror. The circles under his eyes were growing dark with each passing day. He hated himself for not being stronger. His bear’s anger erupted from the beast and crashed through him like a sledgehammer causing him to stagger. Hank shoved the beast and threw up more bars around the animal.

Turning on the water, he washed the blood off his hands and watched the water carry it down the drain.

Too bad he couldn’t wash his soul clean of the blackness tainting it.

He sighed and turned off the water.

The fingernail wounds would heal. In fact, they were already closing. If he shifted to his bear and back, they would heal faster, but that wasn’t an option. Between the lack of sleep and fighting with an angry caged bear, he was falling deeper into the grips of insanity with each passing day. Yet, he wouldn’t change anything he had done to protect his brothers. He just wished he could have done more to keep his brothers and their mates safe.

He rotated his shoulders and then cracked his neck. He knew wasn’t going to be able to sleep, so he figured he might as well take a shower and get as comfortable as possible. He walked over to the shower and turned on the hot water.

He was proud of his brothers. They had become strong and caring men despite the tragedy that filled their past. And now they had mates and were starting their own families.

Hank stepped into the large, stone tiled shower, and closed the glass door behind him. The water cascade over him from the over-size showerhead that was a good foot above his six feet plus height. He closed his eyes as the hot water warmed his skin and washed away the sticky, musky odor of his sweat.

Hank opened his eyes and grabbed the soap.

He remembered when he used to dream about finding his mate and starting a family of his own. A smile flickered across his lips at the thought of two or three cubs roaming around the house and backyard. He designed and built the house with the dream in mind. But now with the return of the hunters and the blackness consuming his soul, he wasn’t sure finding his mate was a good idea.

Hank rinsed off the soap and turned off the water. He got out of the shower and grabbed a towel off the shelf next to it.

We need our mate. His bear projected an image of cubs playing in the backyard.

Hank shook his head. A mate won’t be safe around us. The hunters are already after Forrest, Wes, and their mates.

His bear growled at him. Dumb man. We need our mate. She will make us stronger. We protect her.

It’s not happening. No female should have to put up with either of us. Hank tossed the towel into the dirty clothes hamper as he walked back into the bedroom. Grabbing a pair of sweatpants out of the dresser, he pulled them on and went downstairs.

In the kitchen, he prepped the coffee pot and turned it on. He glanced at the clock on the stove as he waited for the coffee to brew and realized he had four hours before he had to be at the shop.

He shook his head.

He should be sleeping, but the nightmares had chased away all possibilities of that happening.

When the coffee pot finished brewing, Hank filled a large mug with the strong, dark liquid. He took it to the living room, sat down on the sofa, and turned on the television. The bright light filled the room. Hank flipped through the channels until he found a documentary about the Texas Revolution. For the next several minutes, he listened to the narrator as a reenactment of the Battle of the Alamo played out on the screen.

During a commercial break, Hank’s attention drifted to the car magazines stacked on the coffee table. Setting the mug down, he picked up the oldest magazine in the collection. It was frayed at the edges and some of the pages were loose.

Carefully he opened it to the layout he often stared at. Most of the pictures were of various cars from the Dallas car show, but one picture was of a large scrap metal sculpture of a dragon ready to defend its treasure.

Something about the sculpture called to him. He had tried finding the artist, he seemed to have disappeared.

Hank glanced at the clock on the cable box. In about two hours, he was going to have to get dressed and leave for work. Even though he didn’t have much of an appetite, he went to the kitchen to make something for breakfast.

Chapter 2

PAULA HARPER STARED straight ahead, waiting for the elevator to stop at her floor. Three other people were on it with her but they stood as far away from her as they could possible get in the small confined space.

But that was just fine with Paula.

She wasn’t in the mood to be social.

Soot covered her from head to toe. Small burn marks speckled her sleeves and jeans. Her clothes were ruined. The way she looked was bad, but the smell was even worse. She reeked of smoke, sweat, and a couple of other things she couldn’t identify. And to make matters worse, she was tired and angry.

All she wanted to do was take a hot shower, go to bed, and forget the day ever happened.

And maybe add a glass of whiskey somewhere in the mix.

A really large glass of whiskey.

The elevator slowed to a halt and dinged. The doors slid open and two of the people rushed to get out of the elevator without a glance at her.

Two more floors and she would be home.

Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She blinked several times. Not crying. At least not in public. But in her apartment, it was a different story.

The elevator doors finally closed. She felt the motor engage along with a slight jerk as the elevator started its ascent.

Honey, are you okay? asked the woman who was still on the elevator with her.

Paula coughed and cleared her throat. I’m fine. Her throat was raw from the smoke. Her voice cracked. She hated sounding like a broken frog. But she hated answering the question even more. She wasn’t okay. Hello! Did she look okay?

Paula knew the woman didn’t want the truth. She just wanted some juicy information to tell her friends at their next luncheon, or whatever they called their get-togethers. You will never believe what happened on the way home today. There was this woman on the elevator and she looked like she had been in a fire...

Are you sure, honey? Because you don’t look okay.

Paula closed her eyes. Was the woman really that stupid? I know I don’t look okay. I