Burn in Hail

By: Lani Lynn Vale
Book 3 in the Hail Raisers Series





Blurb

One look at the sixteen-year-old, prim and proper town goody-two-shoes, Hennessy Hanes, and Tate Casey knows he’s in trouble. He knows he should stay away from the preacher’s daughter, but there’s something about her he’s drawn to, and he can’t resist the pull.



The more he gets to know her, the more he realizes that something isn’t right. He may not be able put his finger on what it is, but he’s determined to find out what’s going on with the girl with the haunted eyes.



Tate didn’t anticipate that someone else would be just as determined to keep Hennessy’s nightmare a secret, and he never realizes just how far that person is willing go to keep those skeletons in the closet until it’s too late.



With the very real threat of jail time hanging over his head, Tate leaves without a backwards glance at the town or the girl. The problem is that out-of-sight doesn’t necessarily mean out of mind, and it’s Tate who’s now haunted by his decision and memories of Hennessy.



***



Hennessy Hanes knows better than anyone not everything is always as it appears to be. After years of being on the receiving end of her squeaky-clean preacher father’s abuse, she seizes an opportunity to leave it all behind and runs.



Her only regret is that in walking away she loses any chance with the one person who tried to save her.



***



Fast forward ten years, and they’re both back where they started.



Tate was never a good boy, and it turns out that the man he’s now grown into isn’t all that much better. Anger is a living, breathing part of him, and there’s a court order forcing him to seek help from the one person he’s never forgotten.



Hennessy never thought she’d see Tate Casey again, and certainly not on her couch. But now it’s her turn to save him, and there are rules she must follow as his psychologist, not to mention a court order instructing her to help him manage his anger. If she doesn’t follow those rules, he’ll end up back in jail.



Tate Casey has never been a man who followed the rules, and Hennessy is no longer the straight-laced, timid preacher’s daughter she once was.



His hands may be tied, so it looks like for the first time in Hennessy’s life, she’ll be the one breaking the rules for the chance to finally get what she’s always wanted. Him.





Chapter 1


Is it bad to need a beer the moment you walk out of jail? Asking for a friend.

-Tate’s secret thoughts

Tate

“I flipped on my blinker and looked left before I took the final turn that would lead me to my house. When I was fully on my street, I saw what looked like ten or so males gathered around something on the ground in a clearing right off the road.”

I cleared my throat.

The woman’s intense stare was almost emasculating.

I continued. “That clearing belongs to Dr. Foreman. Or did— I don’t know if it does anymore or not since I haven’t been here…” she waved me off. “Anyway, there isn’t usually anyone in that field, so it made me pay attention. And that’s when I saw the silvery blonde hair on the ground.”

Something switched in my brain.

My past and present collided, and there wasn’t a single thing that could stop me.

Not anymore.

“And can you tell me what happened next?”

I shook my head.

“No,” I said. “I blacked out.”

The woman, the one that was currently making my dick hard, dropped her eyes to her papers that were sitting in her lap, and started writing once again.

Her slim, breakable wrist—that would take nothing for me to wrap my fingers around—moved as she wrote furiously. The delicate charm bracelet that she was wearing jingled each time she moved lower on the paper.

“When you say you blacked out, can you describe it to me?”

I shrugged. “Not really. One second I was aware of what was going on, and the next, nothing.”

She looked up at me, pursing her lips.

Jesus Christ.

She was wearing ruby red lipstick.

I’d never seen anyone in this town wear red lipstick.

Hell, hardly anyone looked good in that shit, but this woman? She really pulled it off.

She had white skin so fine that it looked like a fucking doll’s, and her black hair was such a stark contrast with her skin that it kept drawing my eyes to where they met.

Right along the line of her collarbone.

She had the majority of her hair up in some complicated bun looking thing, but there was this one rebellious curl that had escaped the confines and was brushing along her collarbone.

“When do you remember ‘coming to yourself’?” she questioned.

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