Free Wicked Lovers 01 Wicked Ties by Shayla Black

and get an eyeful that could damage his heart at eighty-two.
    “You still been havin’ them dreams?” his grandfather asked suddenly.
    Jack rolled his eyes, ruing the day he’d said anything. “They don’t mean anything.”
    “Boy, you been raised in the bayou, even if the army and big city spoiled you some. A curse is a curse. If you’re dreaming about a redheaded woman over and over, you’re about to meet her and she’s your heart’s mate.”
    Here we go again with this bullshit, Jack thought with a sigh. If Brice wanted to use the legend to justify his marrying an underage girl sixty years ago, goody for him. As it was, Jack refused to believe that some faceless woman he’d seen in his dreams with red hair glinting across bare shoulders in dawn’s light was destined to be his one and only love. There was no such thing. The redhead was just a fantasy fuck his mind had conjured up.
    “Well, I haven’t met any redheads lately, so the whole point is moot. Dreams don’t mean a thing.”
    “You keep tellin’ yourself that, boy. She’ll turn up. Won’t be long now. Didn’t you say you’d been having those dreams about five months?”
    Six, but who was counting? Jack shrugged.
    “She’ll make a believer out of you,” Brice contended.
    “Whatever you say, Grand-pere.”
    The old man grunted, knowing that Jack was blowing off the famous family legend he loved so much. The dreams…they had to be coincidence, a byproduct of loneliness and the fact he hadn’t had a good lay in forever. Nothing else made sense.
    “Well, this old man is taking his body home and going to bed. Need anything else, boy?”
    “We’ll be fine.”
    “Take care of ta jolie fille.”
    Jack sighed. “She’s not my pretty girl.”
    And for some damn reason, it annoyed him to admit that. Probably because she was wasted on an asshole like Brandon Ross.
    Laughter cackling with both amusement and age, Brice left. Jack heard the slam of the cottage door and returned to the bedroom.
    He turned on the kerosene lamp in the bedroom, which emitted a soft glow over Morgan. She looked uncomfortable, as he watched her twist and mutter in her sleep.
    He removed a pair of gaudy earrings he hadn’t noticed before and lay them on the side table. The purple leather…it wasn’t Morgan’s style, but would have to stay for now. Trying to take it off would surely wake her up. Shrugging, he realized he could only do one other thing to make her comfortable.
    Gently, Jack reached under the sleek blonde wig and extracted a pin here and there. She sighed in sleepy appreciation when he lifted the wig away and tossed it on the table next to the earrings.
    When Jack looked back, he frowned and lifted the lamp over Morgan.
    It couldn’t be. It couldn’t.
    But with mellow golden light shining down on her, there was no mistaking the glint of her fiery red hair.

CHAPTER FOUR

    Morgan woke to an unfamiliar room pervaded by shadows. Mosquito netting draped the warm, well-used bed. Beyond that, an old-fashioned kerosene lamp on a nightstand with mission-style lines dimly lit the room. Where was she?
    Blinking, she sat up with a creak. She frowned when she saw purple leather stretched across her torso and hips. Purple leather? Her? It wasn’t uncomfortable…but had to be discomfiting to be seen in. Why the hell was she wearing it?
    Then she recalled. Her stalker shooting. Master J—no, Jack—to the rescue, his gaze eating up her flushed skin, his hands on her body.
    Still, she had to thank Alyssa for the shocking get up. It, along with Jack and his outrageous behavior, had gotten her out of Lafayette alive.
    A downy beige comforter warmed her legs. Black sheers floated at the room’s lone window, made transparent by the silvery moonlight. A stout dresser of warm, old cherrywood sprawled against most of the wall beside the window.
    Turning her head, Morgan skimmed the other half of the small bedroom. The open door led to beautiful hardwood floors, which