Richard Savage's Blog: The Anniversary, page 9

Her Lover’s Face

Her Lover’s Face
https://amzn.to/2PtGhXr
Patricia Elliott
Prologue

Freedom.
The word played in her head like sweet music on the radio. She stared down at his coffin as the pallbearers lowered it into the waiting grave. It landed on the ground with a dull thud. She cringed, unable to take her eyes off the wooden casket. Expecting at any moment for her husband to shove back the lid and pull her into the grave with him.
Relax, Laryssa, he's dead.
She searched her heart for any feelings whatsoever for the man she'd been married to for seven years, but none surfaced. He'd put her through living hell. That's why, when the coroner went to give her his personal belongings, the first words out of her mouth were, 'bury them with him'. The man's jaw dropped and he'd simply stared at her.
She yanked off her wedding ring and dropped it onto the casket. Whispers could be heard behind her, but she didn't care. From her pocket, she pulled the divorce documents, which were drawn up earlier that month, and dropped them into the grave. She never did find the courage to tell him she wanted a divorce, not while the bruises on her back were still healing.
The positive pregnancy test she'd taken a few weeks ago only enforced her need to stay. There was no way she'd have made it on her own. She'd hoped a miracle would come her way and he'd change when she told him the news. She learned the hard way that he had no intention of changing. If he could speak, he'd probably say it should have been her in the grave instead of him. Fate intervened and brought her freedom, despite her hesitancy to step out into the world.
The only feelings inside her were guilt for being partly responsible for his death, and sadness for her child, who would grow up without a father. She turned away and walked through the crowd of people who, one by one, offered their condolences.
No one knew what he put her through. He'd been a master deceiver, always putting on a lovey-dovey act when his friends were around. But the monster inside him lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the moment when they were alone. His words were warm, his eyes cold. She shivered when a snowflake slipped beneath the collar of her jacket.
His business partners made sure she gave him a funeral service. She agreed for fear of what might happen had she done otherwise. If it was up to her, she'd have just had a graveside service and be done with it. Her heart remained cool and distant, as though she was viewing a stranger. He was no longer the man she'd fallen in love with in college. Now that was the man she could truly mourn for. The one she'd miss.
Her first tear slid down her cheek as she reached the last person in line who offered their condolences. He looked vaguely familiar, but her brain wasn't working well enough to remember him. A large bandage covered his left cheek. His friendly voice made him appear sympathetic, but his eyes, which concentrated on her so intently, looked as though they held a secret she'd rather not know. They made her shudder with unease.
She said a quick thank you and then excused herself. She could feel his eyes still watching her as she hurried away. The hair on her arms stood on end and she wondered if she really was free after all.
***
He watched Laryssa make her way to the car. “It's not over. Not by a long shot,” he murmured. He noticed a woman beside him staring, and pulled the brim of his hat down low. “Sad, sad day.” He shook his head for her benefit.
Now there was nothing to stop him from taking what he wanted. For seven years he'd been patient, seven bloody years. He ached with anticipation of having her all to himself. An ache that was all too familiar from watching her night after night. No more seeking relief by his own hand; not when she would soon be able to do it for him.
His gaze slid down her body. She wore a full-length black dress, but that didn't ease his excitement. He knew her body too well. His hands tingled at the thought of peeling the dress off her and he grew hard just thinking of her naked. The veil she wore covered her face, but he knew the brown curly hair and matching eyes that hid beneath it. There was nothing about her he didn't know. What song she sang in the shower. What color her favorite underwear was. He'd left no stone unturned. He would bide his time. Let her mourn for her loss.
He chuckled.
Loss? What a laugh. How many times had he seen her crying in her bedroom at night? How many times had she pretended to be asleep, hoping that Aidan wouldn't beat her when he got home? Only Laryssa, his sweet Laryssa, could be upset over such a man.
He made the sign of a cross as he walked back to his car. He put the key in the ignition and sat back in his seat, letting his gaze linger over her a final time. She sat slumped at her steering wheel. “Make no mistake, Laryssa. I'm coming to take what's mine.”



Chapter One

“Huh, what?” Laryssa bolted straight up in bed, nearly smacking her head on the overhead lamp. The phone rang again, startling her. “Get a grip, Laryssa. You brought the phone in last night.” She reached out and grabbed the phone off the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“Laryssa, where are you?” a voice shrilled in her ear.
“What? Oh, Melissa?” Laryssa asked. She shook her head to clear away the cobwebs, as she let her legs dangle over the side of the bed.
“Of course it's me. Have you looked at the time?” Melissa's voice lowered to a whisper, “The meeting is in forty minutes.”
“You've got to be kidding me.” She turned the clock on the nightstand; it read 9:30 am. “Peachy. I'll be right there.”
Placing the phone on the bed, she stood up quickly and experienced a sudden bout of nausea, which had her rushing to the bathroom. Not again; would this never end? Every morning she found herself with her head in the toilet. The only bad thing, this time, was she couldn't jump in the shower to refresh herself. Slowly standing back up, she went to the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Exhaustion was evident by the dark bags under her eyes which was, she guessed, how she ended up sleeping through the alarm.
Laryssa rushed through her bathroom routine, and then hurried back into the bedroom. She grabbed the red three-piece suit which hung in her closet and stared at it before putting it on. This was the first maternity suit she'd treated herself to. She'd bought it the day the doctor told her she was going to have twins. The revelation of that was still enough to dazzle her senses. She had finally accepted she would be a single working mother with one baby. The thought of having two frightened her. How would she cope when she could barely afford to feed herself? Even though weeks had passed since the doctor gave her the news, she still felt overwhelmed at times.
Quickly grabbing a bagel, Laryssa rushed out the door; it wasn't the most nutritious of meals, but she couldn't afford to be late and lose her job. She had to work full-time just to make ends meet. The days following Aidan's death had been agonizing. The lawyers informed her that she'd been left with nothing. He never had a cent to his name. Since the death had been his fault, the insurance company didn't have to pay her anything either. All his debt and bills had fallen squarely on her shoulders. She could barely pay the mortgage with her semi-decent administrative assistant wages, let alone all the other bills that plagued her.
She'd thought about selling the house, but being pregnant and working full-time, who had the time to get it ready? As it was, the doctors told her she needed to rest as much as possible. If she could afford it, she'd pay someone to help her, but whatever money she received disappeared as quickly as it arrived. It was times like this she longed for her parents. Unshed tears burned in her eyes. Get over it, Laryssa.
She slid into the driver's seat, started the car, and executed a perfect U-turn to get going in the right direction. She was glad she took the advice of her friend, Melissa, and applied for a job a month ago. The job helped her regain not only her independence but her life as well; a life that didn't include him. Well, almost. His face still haunted her, not only in her dreams but during her waking moments as well.
With only five minutes to spare, she pulled into the parking lot of Richards’ Enterprises. Wasting no time, she hurried inside and skidded to a halt. It couldn't be possible, could it? A man, who looked frighteningly familiar, stood in the elevator across the lobby. She rushed to the elevator before the doors closed and squeezed inside, keeping her eyes trained on the floor, her heart pounding like a runaway freight train. Willing herself, she looked up at the man who stood beside her. Her stomach twisted and cramped as though someone had punched her. The ground opened up and she lost her balance, bumping into him. She reached for the hand rest on the side of the elevator as it ascended.
“If you're afraid of elevators, you should take the stairs,” the man said in a low voice. “Not everyone appreciates being bumped into, even if it is by a pretty lady.”
The voice, oh God, even the voice was the same. The elevator came to a halt and she stumbled out of the car. The man strolled past her and started to walk down the narrow corridor created by two long rows of green partitioned cubicles.
Okay, she was going insane. First, she saw him at a club that she and Melissa had gone to a week earlier and now here. How could she be imagining him everywhere? She wasn't that crazy.
Doctors had told her that occasionally people suffer hallucinations after losing a loved one because they are in denial. She'd seen him in the coffin, being lowered into the ground. Damn it, she was at his funeral. Who knew better than her that the father of her babies was dead? She had asked the doctors why it was happening now and not back then. They kept saying everyone was different, or that there was a part of her that needed closure.
Surely, it wasn't just her mind playing tricks on her? He neared the end of the corridor and stopped to speak with one of her colleagues. How can you bump into a hallucination? She needed another look, and started down the corridor after him, only to be stopped by her Supervisor, Dan.
“You're late,” he said coolly, tapping on his watch.
“I'm so sorry. I went to bed early, but was so tired I slept through my alarm.” Tears sprung up in her eyes. Darn hormones, she thought to herself.
He looked down at her belly and understanding dawned in his eyes. “Do you need more time off? If we're working you too hard, I can always get someone to fill in an extra day or two a week.”
“I'm fine, really. Maybe I'm not getting enough iron or something. Did you find the papers I left on your desk last night?” She attempted to change the subject.
“Yes, thank you. I do need you to find the company’s complete personnel file, though. Mr. Richards' grandson has taken over for him and decided to work out of this office for now. He wants to make a few personnel rotations. He's brought in some of his own people.”
She looked around. The place didn't really look like it needed changing, but then she hadn't been back for overly long. “He doesn't plan to fire anyone, does he?” she asked, biting on her bottom lip.
Dan chuckled. “Don't worry. I wouldn't let anything happen to my favorite assistant.”
“I really am grateful for my old job back, especially after all these years.” She rested her hand on his forearm.
“Don't mention it.” Dan glanced down at his watch. “But better hurry up with those files, though. The meeting is about to start.”
Laryssa approached the filing cabinets that lined the wall south of the elevator. Melissa must have heard her approach and looked up from her desk, eyeing her intently.
“Everything okay, you look pale?” her friend asked.
Trust Melissa to notice. She had too good an eye sometimes. “I'll tell you about it later. If I don't find the personnel file, in like one second, Dan will have my hide.” Laryssa pulled open the drawer marked with a ‘P’ and raced through the files. “Ahaa, here it is. Catch you later.”
With unsteady feet and a heart that wouldn't slow down, she made her way to the conference room. She stood at the door, her hand resting on the doorknob, when she heard his voice again. The familiar sound sent a snake-like shiver down her spine.
Gathering her courage, she opened the door. Her mind was not prepared for what she saw in front of her. There, at the head of the table, stood her worst nightmare. Her newly found freedom ceased to exist at that moment.
“Don't just stand there gawking at me, take a seat,” he ordered. His cool voice cut through her like a newly sharpened sword.
The file fell from her hand and her feet involuntarily moved towards him. Dan was on his feet in a split second and by her side. “Laryssa?” He touched her shoulder gently.
Silence spread throughout the room. The only sound was her labored breathing, which verged on hyperventilation.
“Miss, take a seat, please,” the man said again.
She shook her head as she approached him. This wasn't possible. How could he be standing here? The doctors couldn't be right. She couldn't possibly be hallucinating again.
Confusion and frustration clouded his face. “Miss, is there a problem?”
Laryssa stopped an arms length away from him and reached up with a shaky hand to touch his face. “Aidan.” She jerked back and bumped into the chair behind her. Distress overwhelmed her entire being.
“No,” she gasped. “This isn't possible.” She stumbled backwards away from him. “Go away, you're not real.” The walls of the room closed in around her as she struggled to breathe. Her vision blurred and everything faded. The last thing she saw was his ghost rushing forward.
Alex sensed what was about to happen and caught her, lowering her to the ground. “What on earth is she doing working in her condition?” he barked.
“Her condition is called pregnancy; something perfectly normal.” He looked up and saw the young woman he had seen her with earlier rush into the room. She must have heard the commotion from down the hall. She dropped to her knees next to her friend.
“Laryssa, sweetie, talk to me. It's Melissa.” She tapped her friend on the cheek. The only response was a groan. “Gosh, is everyone an idiot today? Call an ambulance.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her and she quirked her eyebrow back. He would have grinned if he didn't have an unconscious woman in his conference room. Obviously, Melissa wasn't afraid to voice her opinion. “Forget the ambulance. I'll take her,” he said.
Melissa's eyes widened as she stared at him. He couldn't say why he blurted that out. After all, he appeared to be the one causing her distress. It would stand to reason someone else should take her, but she intrigued him. What caused her to panic when she saw him? This was not quite the way he planned to spend his first day at the company, although it was definitely more interesting than anything else he had planned.
Dan picked up Laryssa and walked towards the door. Alex left the meeting in the capable hands of his second in command and led them to his car. He rushed through the city streets. The reality of what he was about to do hit him hard. He'd actually agreed to walk into a hospital, without thinking twice, except for now. The one place he always sought to avoid. Laryssa moaned and moved slightly on the seat beside him, but didn't open her eyes.
Alex pulled up to the front of the Hospital's emergency doors. He hurried around to the other side of the car and lifted her into his arms. Shocked, he looked down at her. He hadn't expected such a featherweight, not with her rounded belly. While he studied her, a weird emotion ran through him that he was unable to identify. She snuggled closer to him and sighed softly. The sound wrapped itself around his heart. He couldn't help but feel oddly connected to her, and the need to protect her washed over him. Why? He didn't know.
Alex rushed into the emergency room. The nurse at the admission desk looked up from the patient she was currently dealing with and signaled another nurse who rushed out front with a gurney. He laid her down gently.
“What seems to be the problem,” the nurse asked.
“She's pregnant. She fainted.” Alex's eyes darted around the room as discomfort settled deep inside him. If it wasn't for his interest in the lady's reaction to him, he'd leave and never come back. He was usually known for being able to keep calm in high-stress situations, but that ability high-tailed it out the door when it came to setting foot inside a hospital.
“Are you her husband?” the nurse asked him.
It was a truly reasonable question, but it still rebounded in his head as he looked down at the woman on the bed. Panic nearly numbed him as events from his past threatened to overcome him.
“What's her name?” the nurse spoke again.
“Laryssa.”
He looked around the waiting room, thankful that it was relatively empty. Within ten minutes, the nurse whisked them into the back. She wheeled Laryssa into an empty room.
Not long afterward, a doctor walked into the room. “What happened?”
“I'm not sure, we were in a meeting at work and then she started hyperventilating. Next thing I knew, she fainted.”
“Why don't you go have a seat while I examine her? There is a chair just outside.” The doctor nodded towards the door. Alex studied Laryssa for a moment, hesitant to leave her.
“Don't worry. I'll take good care of her.” The doctor put the stethoscope in his ears and turned towards the woman on the table.
Alex walked reluctantly out of the private room and plunked himself in the chair next to the door.
“Laryssa, can you hear me?”
In a small corner of her mind, she could hear the voice. She struggled to open her eyes.
“Good girl. I'm Dr. Martin. Do you know where you are?”
With blurred vision, she could make out the white walls, and heard the beeping of machines around her. “The hospital?” She squeezed her eyes closed and rubbed them. When she opened them, she could finally see again.
“Do you know how you got here?”
“Not really. What happened?” She tried to push herself up, but the doctor gently pressed against her shoulders and made her lie down again.
“You fainted at work. Have you eaten today?”
“I ate a bagel.” She noticed the look of disapproval on his face and quickly continued, “I know, I know. I was a little behind this morning. I was going to grab an early lunch after the meeting finished.” Remembering the meeting, all the details came flooding back and a shiver rippled through her. Thankfully, the doctor was too busy fiddling with the blood pressure machine to notice.
After a few moments, the doctor said, “Your blood pressure is a little high. Has your doctor mentioned anything about it before?”
“During my last appointment it was a little high, but he said it wasn't too bad. He mentioned that, since I was having twins, it might be higher than normal and that I should relax as much as possible.” Laryssa blushed sheepishly. She hadn't really been following doctor's orders. Work left her with little choice.
“I think it is in your best interest to apply for maternity leave as soon as possible.”
“I haven't worked long enough to qualify.” She cursed under her breath. If only Aidan would have let her continue working, but, no, he had to make her quit. Tears filled her eyes for the second time that day. What was she going to do now?
“Here, let me bring your husband in.”
“I'm afraid my husband is—”
“He's waiting just outside. I'll go get him,” he interrupted.
She tried to speak again, but the doctor disappeared out the door. Aidan, outside? No, that wasn't possible! The man she saw couldn't have been Aidan, could he? But the doctor was saying he was here. Oh God. Her stomach churned and foul-tasting acid rose in her throat. She covered her mouth with her hand and made a bee-line for the garbage can at the end of the bed.
After she finished retching, she sat back down on the bed and wrapped the blanket around herself like a cocoon. She had to remain calm for her babies' sake. The hard part was getting her heart to listen. There had to be a reasonable explanation for all this. Logic and reason fled from her thoughts when the doctor re-entered the room, followed by...him.
“No...no...no.” She grasped the railing of the bed and a wave of dizziness washed over her. Tears pricked at her eyes. “This isn't happening. This isn't possible.”
The doctor looked from Laryssa back to Aidan and motioned Aidan outside. She craned her ear to hear what he would say. “I think we might keep her in overnight just to be on the safe side. She seems to be upset over something and I want to monitor her blood pressure; make sure it doesn't get too high.”
Aidan looked back into the room and stared directly at her. The usual evil glint in his eyes had been replaced by what looked like sincere concern for her. If the doctor could see him, he definitely wasn't a ghost.
“Give her a private room. I've got to run for a bit, but I'm going to send her friend down to keep her company.” Wandering back inside the room, he gave her a gentle squeeze on the hand. “I have to run. I'll send Melissa down to keep you company. She's worried sick.”
Laryssa was unable to respond and could only stare at him as he turned to walk away. She had to be dreaming. There was no way he was alive and the Aidan she knew would never have bothered saying goodbye, let alone touch her as tenderly as this man had done. Not unless there were more people around to witness his husbandly acts. Her wish for the perfect husband must have caused her to create this fantasy. That was the only explanation which made any sense. Any minute now, she'd wake up and he would be dead. Buried deep in his grave on the other end of town, and she'd be safely inside her house.
She squeezed her eyes closed and willed herself awake. When she opened them, she was still in the hospital room, and Aidan, who now stood at the door, was staring at her with pure curiosity.
The nurse unlocked the wheels of the bed and started to push her out of the room. Once they were out in the hallway, he gave her hand another quick squeeze and said, “I'll come back soon and see how things are going.”
He started to walk down the hall. She twisted on the bed and watched him disappear out the doors. The nurse took her up to the maternity wing and set her up in a private room. Her composure broke the minute the nurse left, closing the door behind her. She buried her face in her hands and cried.
***
The tears were still falling when Melissa arrived at the hospital.
“Oh, sweetie.” Her friend sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around Laryssa. “It's okay, girl. Everything is going to be okay.”
“I'm going crazy. I'm seeing him everywhere.” She pulled another Kleenex out of the near empty box and blew her nose.
Melissa gave her a squeeze. “You'll be fine, you'll see. Just give it time. The mind can be a funny thing.”
Definitely funny alright, and it would lead her straight to the funny farm, she thought with a certainty. Maybe she had imagined it all. Yes, that was it. If she saw him again, he probably wouldn't even look like her dead husband.
***
Alex leaned back in his black office chair, unable to focus on his work. He couldn't help but think of the young woman he had taken to the hospital. Why were so many people mistaking him for a man named Aidan? This was the third time in the past two weeks. Granted, no one else reacted quite so strongly. The others who questioned him just shrugged their shoulders and went on their way when he said who he was. With her, he never even had the chance to get that far. Instead, she fainted in his arms the minute she saw him. That was not exactly the type of reaction he was used to from the opposite sex.
Flirting, he was used to and enjoyed it as much as the next man when he was in the right mood, but this; this was entirely new, and it intrigued him. She was riddled with mystery and he would do whatever it took to unravel it. He never backed away from a good challenge. He needed to learn more about her and decided to pull up her personnel file.
He glanced over it and learned she was a widow, and twenty-seven years old. That meant she was single. Not that he cared about that particular fact. He continued reading and discovered that she worked for the company a few years back, and then sent in a resignation letter. What prompted her to come back again years later? He didn't like that this created more questions than answers, so he closed the file.
Sitting forward, he tried to focus on the work in front of him. Since taking over this branch of the company from his grandfather, his workload had increased and he couldn't afford to be distracted. Within minutes, though, he tossed his pen against the beige colored wall in frustration, and it landed in the brown ceramic planter of his green fern.
He was already a little behind, with his detour to the hospital, but he couldn't get her image out of his mind. How she sat there on the hospital bed, scared out of her mind. The way she cringed whenever he touched her didn't escape his notice either. Most women he could forget while he worked; but her, she kept invading the corner of his mind. Something had pierced his soul during the trip to the hospital and seemed to link him directly to her.
He hoped that the next time he saw her, the connection would go away, and he could get back to work. He couldn't say he relished the idea of her overreacting to him again, but there was a part of him that told him it was his fault she was there, and that he should try to reassure her that he wasn't this Aidan fellow, and hopefully put her mind at ease.
He stood up and quickly grabbed his jacket before rushing out the door to his car. A serious case of ‘should he, shouldn't he’ played in his head. The 'should he' won and he found himself pulling into the visitors’ parking of the hospital. All he was going to do was go inside, introduce himself, and leave. Since they worked together, it was the least he could do. He couldn't have her reacting this way all the time.
If she couldn't figure out how to work with him, he'd have to let her go. This visit would determine that. The trip wasn't personal and had nothing to do with the fact he couldn't stop thinking about her. He just wanted to make sure she was well enough to do her job and see what he could find out about this man he kept hearing about. That was what he kept telling himself all the way to the hospital. It was the only rational explanation, given his avoidance of the female race, except to scratch an itch that rarely surfaced, if at all.
***
Laryssa sat on the edge of her bed, picking away at the supper the hospital provided. Melissa had left a little earlier to go home and cook supper for her husband. She promised to show up bright and early the next morning since it was her day off.
The hospital food wasn't as bad as everyone always claimed it to be, but her stomach still refused to let her enjoy anything. Morning sickness was only supposed to last till second trimester, and then go away. She'd started the second and it still hadn't shown any signs of disappearing. It was always worse when her stress levels were elevated. Pushing the tray away, she swung her legs up on the bed and rested against the mattress, which had been raised to a sitting position. She pulled up her gown and rested her hand on her stomach.
“It's still hard to believe I've got two of you in there.” She ran her hand in little circles over her belly, laughing with delight when one would push out to meet her hand. “Bet it's getting a little squished, eh.” It was nice to have a serene moment like this after a stressful day. She loved sitting and watching her stomach before falling asleep. Something she'd definitely miss after they were born. Gosh, it was hard to believe she was already twenty-one weeks.
She couldn't imagine what it would be like when they finally made their appearance. Excitement and fear all mingled together as she thought about it. Excitement filled her at the thought of finally being able to hold them, yet she couldn't help but feel afraid at the possibility of being alone when the time came. Melissa promised to be with her, but it just wasn't the same. They deserved a daddy. Aidan's face appeared in front of her and it was like ton of bricks falling on her heart.
He could have been a good man if he had made any effort to be. He showed her that when they first met. It was for that reason alone she tried to make it work, knowing what it could be like. Now, it would seem she was doomed to be haunted by his memory and his face the rest of her life. A memory so fresh that Laryssa swore she could hear his voice.
When the familiar voice got louder, her eyes widened in fear. “No, it can't be,” she gasped. She stared at the door as if a ghost was about to walk through it, and within seconds, one did. The spitting image of her husband walked in the room.
“Go away! You're not real! You're not real!” Laryssa cried out, taking shelter under the covers.
Alex chuckled at the spectacle of a grown woman hiding under the sheets, the way a child would hide from a ghost. Her reaction only intrigued him more. “Miss,” he inquired softly.
“Go away. You're not real. You can't be real. You're dead.” She kept a death grip on the sheets as he tried to pry them down.
“Last time I checked, I was real,” Alex commented. Finally, he managed to pull the sheets off her head. She swung her arms at him. He grabbed her forearms and held them away from him.
“You're dead. I saw them bury you.” She wrenched her arms away from him and proceeded to keep swinging. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and gently lowered her hands down beside her.
“Ms. Mitchell, I'm not sure who you saw buried, but it wasn't me. I'm not, what's his name, Aidan?”
Laryssa nodded her head and eyed him warily. “Who are you?”
She tried to pull away, but he didn't relinquish his hold on her. He was going to make her see the truth if it was the last thing he did. Her latest reactions re-enforced his need to share who he was.
“My name is Alexander Richards. We've never met before, I assure you.” He was sure of that. There was no way he'd forget someone as beautiful as her. “I'm sorry if I frightened you.” He wanted to say more, but a nurse walked into the room.
“Is everything okay in here? We really can't have her getting upset right now.” The nurse looked at the clock on the wall. “I'm afraid that, while we do allow family to stay, we really need her to get some rest, so unless you're willing to let her sleep, you'll have to come back tomorrow.”
He wanted to argue with the nurse, but knew she was right when he looked back at Laryssa. She was tired personified; the dark bags under her eyes more evident than before. Alex didn't really want to leave; he wanted to pry more information out of her, but it probably was for the best. Maybe time alone and a good night’s sleep would allow what he said to sink into her mind. Hopefully, the next time he came to the hospital she would be more willing to speak with him. He grabbed his jacket and strolled out of the room.
As he drove home, the situation kept popping into his mind. Unease settled into the deepest part of him as he recalled the terror in her eyes when he walked in the room. Did he really look so much like this other man that she'd react so strongly? Maybe she was just so distraught over her loss that everyone she saw looked like him.
He had heard of cases where a person had suffered such severe hallucinations because they couldn't accept the loss of a loved one. They wanted them to be alive so badly that they were able to convince their minds that their loved ones were still around. Would that have happened both times she'd met him? Or could there actually be something more to this than either of them realize? That was what he was going to find out.
***
The next morning, true to her word, Melissa popped in at the start of visiting hours. “Hey girl, how's it going today?”
“Lousy!” Laryssa sighed, cuddling deep beneath the covers. “What's wrong with me?”
“Do you want to talk about it?” her friend asked.
“I don't even know what to say.” She leaned forward and whispered, “Hi, my name is psycho, I see dead people.” Despite the absurdity of the situation, they looked at each other and burst out laughing.
After a few minutes, they calmed down and Laryssa leaned back against the bed. “Gosh, that felt good.”
“Glad I could help,” Melissa said, grinning.
“I'm scared, Mel. If I keep having these hallucinations, they might take my babies away.”
“Are you so sure they are hallucinations?”
Laryssa got up out of bed and walked toward the window, resting her hands on the window sill. She leaned her forehead against the glass and looked at the cars in the parking lot below.
“I'm not sure of anything anymore,” she said honestly.
“Did Aidan have any family? Maybe Alex is a relative. That might explain the resemblance.”
“If only it were just a resemblance. He looks exactly like him. Almost as if, nah, it's impossible.”
“What, what's impossible?” Melissa joined her by the window and they watched a family climb in their car.
“What's impossible?” his deep voice spoke from behind them.
Laryssa jumped and grabbed onto Melissa's arm. It was him. He said he would come back and now here he was. Her feet remained rooted on the floor and she couldn't make herself turn around. All she wanted was for him to go away. She didn't want to see him.
“Hello, Alex,” Melissa said. “Laryssa, can you lighten your grip on my arm, it's going numb.”
“Oh, sorry.” She released her friend's arm, but reached out for her again when she started to move away. “Don't go.”
“You'll be fine, don't worry. I'll check in on you again later.” Mel gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then walked towards the door. “Alex, be gentle,” she chided.
Laryssa's heart skipped a beat when the door clicked behind her, indicating that Melissa was gone and she was alone with him. Shoes squeaked on the polished hospital floor behind her. She stiffened at the sound. He was coming closer; and there was nothing she could do but wait for the blows.
Breathe, Laryssa; in through your nose, out through your mouth. When his hands came to rest on her shoulders, she jumped.
“It's alright. Don't be afraid,” he said softly. The pressure on her shoulders increased, just a little, in an attempt to turn her around. At first, she resisted, but, knowing it was inevitable, she slowly turned.
She stared at the floor, unable to find the strength to lift her head. He placed his hand under her chin and, with great care, lifted her face to look at him.
The tenderness of his touch undid her and helped her realize the truth. “You're not Aidan, are you?” she asked in a quiet voice. He led her to the bed and coaxed her to sit down next to him.
“Afraid not, Miss, although I have a feeling you don't want me to be, do you?”
Numbly, she shook her head. “This is some cruel joke.”
“My apologies for startling you at the office yesterday,” Alex let his hand rest on top of hers. She stared at his hand for a moment then pulled hers away. She lifted her head to study his features. Her hand reached up to touch his face for a second time and he let her fingers alight on his unshaven face. A slight scar rested just under his left earlobe.
“I need to lie down.”
Alex helped her swing her legs up on the bed and lowered the head of it for her. Her eyes moistened and she closed them tightly. Tears slipped down her cheeks. He brought his hand to her face and brushed the tears away.
“Please don't,” Alex spoke with a gentleness Aidan never used. “I hate when women cry, especially because of me.”
Laryssa opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why do you keep coming back here?” she asked suspiciously.
“What can I say? I'm a sucker for women who fall all over me.” He shrugged his shoulders.
“I didn't fall all over you,” Laryssa said defensively.
“You didn't exactly stay standing either,” he said, winking at her.
“Touché.”
A few moments later, the doctor joined them. “Well, Ms. Mitchell, all the tests came back okay. Babies are healthy. You're free to go. However, you'll need to start visiting the obstetrician once a week from now on, and be sure to remember to take your prenatal vitamins. I also want you to rest as much as possible. No more working. We can't risk the babies coming too prematurely. I'm releasing you into your husband's care.”
“My husband,” she squeaked.
“Sure, Doctor. I'll make sure she's taken care of.” Alex shook the doctor's hand.
“Just let the nurse at the front know when you're ready to go.”
“Will do. Thanks, Doc.”
She watched the exchange. Husband? An uneasy feeling washed over her. If Alex wasn't Aidan, why would he allow someone to believe they were married?
“Why didn't you tell him you aren't my husband?”
“If he knew you were going back to your house alone, do you think he'd have let you go?”
“How do you know I'm alone?” Laryssa asked, folding her arms across her chest.
“Oh sure, you got a million men waiting in the wings. I don't think so.” He pointed to her belly.
“There are many men out there who find pregnant woman attractive,” she countered, holding her chin high.
“Oh, I know,” he said smugly, “I'm one of those guys. While you get dressed, I'll bring the car around. I'll phone my housekeeper, Joanne, and let her know we're having company.”
“I don't know what gave you that idea, but I'm not staying with you.” She widened her stance, ready to fight him.
“Yes, you are. You heard the doctor, you need to rest.”
“Look, you're welcome to drive me, but I am going home and nowhere else. You aren't my husband. I'm never having a husband again.” Her words spewed out of her mouth with more vehemence than she meant to display.
Alex placed his palm against his forehead and let out a breath. “Aren't you the least bit curious as to why I may look like this Aidan fellow? God knows, I am. I'm offering you a place to rest while we figure it out.”
Curiosity didn't even come close to what she felt right now. She was an emotional mess, with anxiety and fear rolled into a ball, bouncing back and forth inside her stomach. “Thank you, but I—” she tried again.
“Good. Then it's all set. Get yourself dressed. You're staying with me,” he said. “I'll go pull the car around. See that you're ready by the time I get back.”
She did as she was told, although, she had no intention of staying with him. She'd deal with that when the time came. Alex must have mentioned to the desk that they were ready to go, because in came a nurse with a wheelchair.
“I'm fine. I don't need a wheelchair,” Laryssa argued. She was not going to feel like an invalid who couldn't do things on her own. After Aidan died, she took great pride in stepping up to the plate and being master of her own life. There was no way she was going to let someone else take that control away from her.
If Alex thought she would just give in to him, well, he had another thing coming. Feeling pampered for once would be nice, but not at the expense of losing her self-respect. No man was going to boss her around and get away with it. If she didn't fight for respect, she'd never get respect. She had no plans on being any man's doormat again.
Laryssa stood there, fighting with the nurse about the wheelchair, when she heard a noise behind them, and looked up to see Aidan's look-a-like stroll in. If she was honest with herself, she did want to find out the story behind the face. And at the moment, his face looked pretty determined.
“Sit.” Alex pointed to the wheelchair.
“Mr. Richards, I will not be told what to do. I lived with that long enough.” Temper flared, like a ball of fire inside her.
“I tried to explain that it is hospital policy. She won't listen,” the nurse grumbled.
“Ms. Mitchell, sit! Or I will carry you to the car myself,” he dared. A sparkle of humor danced in his eyes.
“You wouldn't,” Laryssa gasped.
“Wouldn't I?”
Her mouth opened and she let out a squeak when he took a step towards her. The corners of his mouth curled up into a grin.

Her Cowboy’s Way

Her Cowboy’s Way
https://amzn.to/2tE3wFC
Starla Kaye
Chapter One
The Bride Wore Red

Brandi couldn’t go through with this. Panic chased rational thought away. Her mind swirled with visions of Runaway Bride, with her in Julia Roberts’ role as the bride. She was supposed to be a June bride.
A wedding meant all kinds of serious stuff. It wouldn’t be all about her anymore. Instead of stretching over the entire bed at night she would share it with Colby, fight with him for covers or about not wanting them. She would be expected to act civil in the morning before she jump-started her brain with half a pot of coffee. He had a disgusting habit of rising and shining as soon as his feet hit the floor. There would be all sorts of compromising on furnishing their home. Typical bachelor, he was almost minimalistic; she was more the eclectic type with lots of knickknacks around. Not that she had much of her own yet, but her father was letting her mother’s collections go to her new home. Colby had agreed, but she saw the way he’d ground his teeth in frustration when her father made the offer.
Then there was Colby’s attitude about expecting obedience, at least on issues he believed strongly about. Following what someone else wanted of her had never been her best trait.
She glanced at the expensive wedding gown hanging in the room used for brides in the church in which she’d grown up. Obedience. Love, honor and obey. Did she really have a grasp on what the word meant? Not according to her father. Not according to most people in town. She tended to go her own way about things…and sometimes paid a price for it. Considering Colby had known her most of her life, he understood that she had trouble staying within boundaries.
Boundaries, she saw them as “guidelines” or “lines drawn in the sand.” To her they were things that could be seen as a bit flexible or moved an inch or two or several feet. He’d heard her complain numerous times about having gotten her bottom burned because she misinterpreted a guideline or overstepped a line seen differently by someone else—usually her father.
She wasn’t sure why all of a sudden she’d become obsessed with the three key words in the wedding ceremony. Maybe because they were big words—okay, small letter-wise—but huge in meaning.
Last night at the dress rehearsal, she’d been too lost in the excitement of the moment to think about the vows and what she’d be promising. She hadn’t even thought about them when Colby had teased her as he’d dropped her off at her father’s ranch. But now she recalled seeing the hint of challenge in his dark eyes as he’d taunted her with “love, honor and obey.”
Had he been referring to a few weeks ago when she’d told him she wanted to cut off her almost waist-length hair and dye it auburn? She wanted a change; something she’d thought would make her look more mature. His immediate response: “Absolutely not!” Which rubbed her wrong, made it a dare. Of course, she’d done both. Yet, with the first cut of her long locks, she’d about had heart failure. There wasn’t any going back at that point. At least she’d managed not to whimper through the rest of the haircut and as the beautician colored her hair from blonde to red. She gaped in the mirror afterward, shocked at the drastic change, somewhat traumatized, and hated what she’d had done.
She blew out a frustrated breath. Colby hadn’t taken her decision well. Disgust played a big part in his reaction, although he’d shown some sympathy when she shed a few tears about the shorter hair. After she calmed down, grumbled about regretting her impulsive rebellion, he’d turned her bottom red. If she had just listened to what he said… If she wouldn’t get her back up… Yada, yada, yada.
The truth was that she’d been born breach, couldn’t even manage to “obey” (follow, really) the normal way of being born. And she’d spent twenty-six years disobeying her father’s rules whenever she pleased and then suffering the consequences, which never pleased her. Marriages were about equal partnerships, not having to follow anyone’s rules. They were about adult relationships, about sex. She was okay with the “sex” thing. Especially with Colby.
At the thought of the six-foot-three, sinfully handsome cowboy, delicious warmth curled inside her. They’d lived on neighboring ranches since her family had moved here to Hinkley, Kansas, when she was eight. As a foolish teenager, she’d had a crush on him, which hadn’t gone well. He’d been such a jerk when he’d discouraged her advances. While away at college, she’d dated a lot and explored her passionate nature. In spite of his “jerk” title, no guy had ever compared to Colby. In her fantasies, she put him on some kind of super guy pedestal, had given him impossible skills: expert at kissing, expert in all possible ways of making love. The list went on and on.
She trembled at the memory and what she’d learned were his real skills in these last six months.
Looking out over the town from her window seat, she thought about how she’d come back to Hinkley after graduation from college and getting her masters. Her original plan was to open a one-person accounting firm with only the guarantee of her father as a client. Now she had several ranchers as clients, including Colby. Their client-accountant relationship had gone many steps further, steps that had led to her bed, to his bed, and soon to their bed. What that man could do in between the sheets or on top of them. She moaned. Oh yeah, what he could do!
“Time to get dressed,” Sarah announced, as she all but bounced into the room, shoulder-length brown hair fluttering around her. Her best friend since childhood looked at the white dress with layers of satin and lace. She sighed in the same way she did every time she saw the gown. “You’re going to look like a princess.”
Brandi hadn’t picked out the dress; her father had. He’d always called her “his little princess”—except when she was in trouble—and he wanted her to look like royalty on her wedding day. Colby hadn’t seen the gown yet, but he’d like it, too. You couldn’t get more feminine than in this dress. He was all about feminine, all about her being a lady. Okay, he wanted her to behave like a lady. Behave! Obey. She had to admit that she had problems with both words and their definitions. The dictionary needed to be updated to include her interpretations of the definitions: follow societal or other’s rules if you so choose.
She looked at her friend, who rarely strayed into the “gray areas” and accepted the common definitions of those bothersome words. Maybe Colby should marry a woman like Sarah, someone who would never challenge him or give him grief. Still, she’d have to shake him if he chose to marry someone else.
“I think this might be a bad idea,” she said in growing distress. She was too young to be tied down to one man. Right? She was just starting to grow into the role of being an adult and being responsible. Okay, she was scared clear down to her bones. What if she screwed up Colby’s life? He needed a good woman at his side, one who…wasn’t her.
Sarah was reaching to take the dress down and glanced in her direction, her brow furrowed. “Bad idea? What are you talking about?”
Perched on the window seat overlooking the parking lot where guests were already arriving, Brandi pulled her legs up and hugged her knees. Still wearing jeans, she rested her chin on the comforting denim. “This whole marriage business. I’m not sure if it’s really my kind of thing.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding, right? You’re about to wear this stunning gown, walk down an aisle lined with gorgeous white roses, and take the hand of THE studliest man on earth in marriage. It doesn’t get any better than that.” She looked at Brandi as if she were an alien who’d taken over her best friend’s body. “Oh, don’t tell Thad what I said about Colby. Thad’s studly, too. Just in a different way.”
Brandi couldn’t deny that Colby Pennington was “studly,” a lot of the women in town called him Super Stud Cowboy behind his back. Yes, she’d started it off and, yes, he knew about it and that she’d been behind the nickname. Disgruntled, he’d warmed her bottom when he’d found out, which still irritated her. You’d have thought he’d been proud of the nickname! Jeez.
“No, I won’t say anything to Thad.” He was okay looking, but hardly “studly.”
Putting aside all of those thoughts, Brandi looked at the gown. She didn’t care about the dress or the roses. She wasn’t that much of a flower person. But Sarah’s mention of Colby’s hand had brought back to mind that whole behaving matter, the whole obedience issue she’d been mulling over the last few minutes. She’d experienced a number of spankings from the man who’d been her lover for the last couple of months and who’d tolerated her as his best friend’s kid sister for years.
Beyond that, she’d also already had a number of lectures from him on professional behavior, claiming he wanted to help her. Her work schedule, in particular, was an issue. If she wanted to keep sporadic work hours, come and go as she pleased, it was her business, she’d told him. He’d pointed out that building a reputation was important, which meant showing her clients she could be counted on for her skills and for being available on a regular basis. Okay, she’d eventually agreed with him. And her clients had appreciated her adjusting to normal office hours.
Then there had been a discussion about her inappropriate dress for the office. Again, her office. Again, she’d stopped wearing jeans to work and switched to dresses or suits. Most of the time. And, again, her clients had noticed the change, commented on it in approval. Did he have to be right about every little thing?
In his series of lectures on behavior—as she referred to the discussions in private, he’d gone on to mention that he expected to be the head of their household. He hadn’t gone into specifics and she hadn’t asked. Blind lust had kept her thoughts focused on more interesting areas. But now she was having a serious back-to-reality moment.
She faced Sarah, nerves twisting within her. “I need to talk to Colby.” Alarm seemed to be taking over her mind. “Now. Right now.”
Sarah blinked in horror. “You can’t see him until the ceremony! It’s bad luck.” She shook her head. “No. No, no, no. Absolutely not.”
Brandi wasn’t a superstitious person, but she knew what she needed. She needed to see Colby. Panic rose to another level and her voice was harsher than she intended when she said, “There won’t be a ceremony unless I talk to Colby.” She pointed to the door Sarah had closed on entering. “Please. Just go get him.”
“But—”
Brandi raised her chin, surprised when she battled tears. “Get Colby.”

Colby struggled with his tie while his long-time friends stood around him, harassing him about getting married. He was about to give up on the tie and toss it in the trash when Sarah raced into the groom’s dressing room. Brandi’s best friend’s face flamed in embarrassment as her gaze darted around taking in her surprised fiancé, Thad, Brandi’s father, and the other two men. It was plain she would rather be anywhere else but here. He had a bad feeling about this.
“What’s up?” Colby asked when she hadn’t spotted him in the far corner. His bride-to-be was up to something. Hell, she was always up to something. She would be a trial in his life for the next fifty or so years, but he felt damn lucky about that. He didn’t mind her going nose-to-nose on things with him every now and then; it kept their relationship interesting. He couldn’t marry a woman who “Yes’d” him all the time, kind of like Sarah did Thad. He liked a woman with guts…most of the time, anyway. ‘Course when she decided to cut all that long, silky hair off… Well, he hadn’t liked that so damn much.
Still, as troublesome as she could be at times, he loved Brandi clear to his long, skinny toes. For every irritating trait she had, there were more that pleased him. She could be grumpy first thing in the morning, but he could live with that. She had a tendency to be far too casual with her professional appearance and with her work habits, but she’d been working on that. She struggled making the change from college kid to businesswoman. They’d already talked about this matter and she listened to him, for the most part. He would keep helping guide her since he had more real world experience.
As her husband, he intended to help guide her at home, too. He’d explained his role in their marriage, heading their household, as a good, loving man should, in his opinion. She’d been hesitant about the matter, particularly when he’d said there might be times when his “guidance” would involve taking her over his knee. The idea of continuing to get her bottom warmed as a married woman hadn’t set right with her, at first. After a fair amount of lovemaking that night, pleasing her in every way she desired, she’d decided he could play whatever role he wanted. She trusted him and that meant a whole lot to him. He wouldn’t ever abuse her trust. He loved and respected her.
Sarah looked uncertain, standing there in her hot pink gown. He put aside his musings. “What’s the problem?”
She had trouble meeting his eyes. “Brandi said she needed to talk to you.”
“She can’t talk to him now,” Sam Dalton protested, striding over, his forehead pinched in irritation.
Sarah worried her lower lip and focused on Colby. “She said something about there not being a ceremony unless she talks to you. Please. Come talk to her.”
Colby let the ends of the bowtie dangle and nodded. “I’d best go have a few words with her then.”
Her father, his folks, dang near half the town had worked hard to pull this fancy wedding together. He and Brandi would have been happy enough with just a couple of people to stand up with them to get married. But, as his mother made it clear to him, weddings were for everyone else, not so much the bride and groom. He didn’t plan on disappointing any of them today. Brandi wouldn’t want to either. This was just some kind of “cold feet” thing, he was sure of it. She needed settling. She needed his help, a reassurance of his love and his being there for her.
He walked over to Sarah, tried to give her a calming look. She still appeared concerned. But she tended to be a fretter. He glanced back at the frowning men behind him. “This is just a minor delay. I’ll take care of things.”
Colby trailed after a distressed Sarah toward the bride’s dressing room. Poor Sarah, she was a nervous wreck. There wasn’t a superstition she didn’t know about, didn’t worry about. This whole business of him—the groom—seeing the bride before the ceremony was driving her crazy. Sarah grumbled unhappily with each step back through the church. She stopped at the end of the hallway. “Last minute nerves. That’s all.” She sounded like she wanted his reassurance again.
“I’m sure it is. Everything will be fine, you’ll see,” he said and gave her a smile. It might take a few minutes of unpleasantness, but he’d get the wedding back on track. He knew in his heart that Brandi was depending on him to do so.
When they grew closer, he found the door to the bride’s room was shut and Brandi’s two bridesmaids stood in the hallway, annoyed. One of them turned on Sarah as she walked up. “She won’t let us into the room. She demanded to be left alone. What’s going on? We should be helping her get dressed. Doing something with her hair.”
“Ummm…” Sarah glanced at Colby, desperate for his help.
“My bride-to-be appears to be panicking.” He gave the women his most reassuring smile. “Getting married is stressful.”
They still looked concerned. Time was drawing close. It worried him a bit, too. He moved in front of the door. “Why don’t you ladies go make sure everything in the sanctuary looks all right? Give Brandi and me say… twenty minutes.”
For a second they didn’t move, and then Sarah took charge. “You heard the man. He wants some time alone with Brandi.” She took off briskly in the other direction and the doubting pair followed her.
Time to face your nervous bride. He sucked in a steadying breath and knocked on the door. “Brandi Lynn.”
There wasn’t much time for handling this matter. Guests were already filing into their seats. The organist was already playing. And, no doubt, Sam Dalton was having trouble controlling his desire to come handle whatever the problem was in the firmest, most fatherly manner. A way that would no doubt involve applying his hand to his daughter’s bottom. But his time of punishing her was in the past. As of today—well, even before today, spanking her when needed was Colby’s duty.
As the lock clicked open, he steeled himself not to lose his temper because he’d grown anxious about the necessity to get ready for the ceremony, too. This was essential. Brandi was important.
“I’m not agreeing to obey you in the vows. It’s a deal breaker,” Brandi said in a rush as Colby walked into the room. She looked so small, so on the edge. Her eyes were big, glistening with unshed tears. At that moment, she appeared every bit of the ten years younger than him. Not child-like, just younger and less experienced. Yet he saw the need for him to pull her through this bout of nerves.
He calmly closed and locked the door behind him. He didn’t say a word, trying to determine how to handle this. He didn’t want to scare her even more, he needed to bolster her confidence that this was her decision, not something he was forcing on her. She’d been standing close to the door, now she stepped backward. And, backward some more.
He moved toward her, calm, collected, determined. “A deal breaker, huh?”
She looked frustrated, a pinch of worry between her eyebrows. “This is fundamental, Colby! I’m fine with the whole love and honor stuff.”
Good to hear. “But the word obey bothers you.” It wasn’t like he wanted her to do everything he said and not have a mind of her own. He wasn’t always right. What he wanted, expected, was for her to give credence to his telling her not to do something, which would only be said for her own good. “Maybe you should explain your thinking on the matter.”
She put a hand on her stomach, a sign she was jittery. “I’ve spent my life obeying and following rules. I’m ready to be in charge of my own life. For Pete’s sake, Colby, I have my own business.”
In truth, she’d always struggled with doing what someone else wanted. As for rules, she preferred to make her own or bend someone else’s to meet what she wanted. He was going to have his patience tried for years to come. He decided it might be wise to respond with care. “Yes, you do. And I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
Some of the tension eased from her shoulders. “Thank you.” She nibbled on her lip, still concerned.
He wasn’t sure quite what she wanted yet. “You are in charge of your life. Our getting married doesn’t change that.”
“But… You have rules. You have expectations of me.” She inched backward again.
Colby glanced at his watch. Time was not their friend. This wasn’t a serious problem; she was grasping at straws, at anything, in her anxious-bride worry. “Do you love me, Brandi? Really love me?”
He stepped in front of her as cautiously as when he approached a frightened horse. Her eyes widened at his closeness, but she didn’t move away. Progress.
They stood there watching each other. Her scent drifted over him, making him aware of his desire for her, any time and anywhere. She’d spent many hours in his arms and in his bed, many hours with him deep inside her. He could sense longing building within her as well. Trying to keep his need at bay, he prodded her again. “Brandi?”
“Yes. I love you with my whole heart. But…”
“Nothing else is as important.” Even as he spoke, relieved by her answer, he took her hand and pulled her with him to the window seat. She didn’t try to stop him and gave a small sigh.

Brandi was over his knee before she could even think of resisting. She already felt better. Colby had come to her as she’d asked, even when he should be getting ready now…just as she should be. He put her needs above everything else. That said a lot about the man she was marrying. Their marital life ahead might have ups and downs, clashes and make-ups, but she was pretty sure they would make it. Statistics weren’t in their favor, though. But this was their wedding day; statistics had no place in it.
She settled into place, to heck with stupid statistics. “What if someone looks up and sees us?” They were in front of the window.
He tugged her closer. “Nobody is going to see us.”
Probably not, since they were seated. “You’re going to wrinkle your tux pants.” Now that she was in this familiar position, she was embarrassed by her strange show of nerves. She wanted to marry this man. She really did. God, why was she so upset? Why couldn’t she just go through with this?
“My pants will be fine.” He didn’t sound the least bit concerned. He swatted her denim-covered bottom. “You need settling down. The stress of the wedding has gotten to you, hasn’t it?”
The smack over the denim hadn’t hurt, but if he spanked her long enough, she knew it would eventually. “I’m a grown woman; I shouldn’t be getting a little nuts about this…about wedding vows.” She flinched as she watched his hand rise and fall again.
Colby’s expression showed both understanding and determination. She turned her head away. She was getting spanked. Good? Bad?
“We are getting married today, Brandi Lynn.” There was no question about it in his tone. He landed six sharp swats with attention-getting force. “I know you don’t want to call this off.” A dozen swats followed. “Do you?”
“No, but…” She gasped, her bottom hurt now. “You’re sure you don’t have any doubts?” She drew in a breath at a hard swat. “I won’t always agree with you. I argue. I—”
He sent another biting swat down and laid his hand over the spot as if holding in the sting. “I’ve never had any doubts, Brandi Lynn. And I don’t expect you to never argue with me. That wouldn’t be who you are.”
She looked back at him again. Her bottom ached, but the look of love in his eyes made up for the pain he’d caused. “So, are we done now?”
“Are you sure?” His fingers moved to the waistband of her jeans.
She trembled in response; yearning took away any wounded feelings from being spanked.
“These can come down. I can warm your bare bottom until you’re convinced I will always take care of you…no matter what you need…or when.”
“I’m pretty sure I get that now.” She wiggled her bottom, experienced the sting beneath the denim. “No, I’m good with what you’ve already given me.”
He smoothed his hand over her tender bottom and released her. Then as she scrambled off his lap, he said, “So, we’re beyond any problems with the whole obey thing?”
“For the most part, yes.”
She stood in front of him, rubbing her bottom. He frowned. “I mean that I’ll try to follow those rules we’ve talked about. But we both know I’ll struggle. Can you accept that?”
Colby watched her hands moving over her bottom. Normally he didn’t allow it. Now he appeared fascinated by the action, his nostrils flaring and his eyes darkening. More than anything she wanted to pull the jeans off and….
“Colby?” she questioned, taming her thoughts. Both of them needed something, relief of some kind. She didn’t want to get too disheveled and have to face her bridesmaids. Which left taking care of the man she loved. “Colby,” she repeated, dropping her hands.
He looked confused, then went back to her mention of his acceptance. Still a bit distracted, he said, “As long as you’re my wife, I’ll accept anything.” His gaze held hers. “I might spank you, but that has nothing to do with my love for you. Or everything to do with it.”
Her buttocks clenched and she drew in a shuddery breath. She stepped closer to him and he hugged her as she repeated what he’d told her before, “You spank me because you love me.”
She felt the pounding of his heart, the gentleness in his embrace. The scent of his arousal drifted to her and the bulge in his tux pants pressed closer.
“Sweetheart, you need to step away from me,” he said huskily, although he still held her and rubbed against her to make sure she understood his problem.
She definitely did. With a smile, she reached down to cup him. She moved her hand up and down the impressive length. He shoved forward with a groan, making her smile bigger.
“Damn, Brandi Lynn, you’re killing me.” Yet he didn’t move away, just let her have her way with him.
It always pleased her when she made him hard like this. Stepping back, she went to her knees and unzipped his pants at the same time. She drew out the heated shaft, eager to play with it.

His eyes were dark, brow pinched as he glanced toward the door. “You should be getting dressed,” he managed to grunt out while she licked the head of his cock.
“I will.” She licked him again, grinned at his groan and looked up. “Pretty soon.” She held him with one hand and ran her tongue along one side of the pulsing shaft, following the vein line. Her other hand cupped his balls, massaged them with gentleness.
“God, Brandi,” he moaned, thrusting forward, demanding more of the pleasure making him grimace with tension. “This isn’t right.” He moaned again. “It’s damn naughty, here in church.”
She leaned back and her hands continued to drive her man toward release. “Showing my future husband how much I love him is bad?”
“It’s the timing that’s bad,” he gritted out. “Oh God! Ohhhhh God!”
Brandi worked him until he shot all over her hand. She made sure the semen stayed off his tux pants. Still holding him, she reached her other hand out to a box of tissues and cleaned him up.
“Feeling less tense now?” She smiled in mischief, very pleased with herself while he straightened his clothing.
“Hell, yes.” Colby pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. He threaded his fingers through her chin-length hair the way he liked to do sometimes. “Darlin’, you don’t have to promise before God and all that you will obey me. And I won’t ask you to do so without good reason.”
She felt way beyond foolish about the issue now, embarrassed at her breakdown. She hugged him tighter.
A second later, she shoved out of his embrace and glanced toward her dress hanging across the room. “Can you find the girls for me? I’m going to need help getting into the gown.”
He stood, studied her, and nodded. “You’re settled now, I take it?”
She put a hand on her tender bottom. “Yes, thank you.”
“All right, I’ll go round up your girls.” He headed for the door, stopping to say, “I suspect it was better that I came to talk to you than your father. But you’re mine now. I’ll be the only one turning your sweet bottom red on occasion from now on.”

Forty-five minutes later Colby’s heart swelled with pride as he stood at the front of the church and took Brandi Lynn Dalton for his wife. Her bottom wouldn’t be red by now, maybe a bit pink. Knowing their little secret about that and about what she’d done in return, he grinned like a love-struck idiot at her. He didn’t care. He did love her. Even more when she met his eyes and said, “…to love, honor and obey…”
Even as he spotted her crossed fingers beneath the bouquet she held, he winked at her, lifting one eyebrow.
She blushed and let him see the crossed fingers better.

Chapter Two
Misbehavin’ in Mexico

“The sun's up and we shouldn't be wasting time here in our room,” Brandi said, nudging Colby where he still lay half-awake in bed. “We've only got six days here. I don't want to waste a second.”
He groaned in answer, but that was it.
She was excited to be away from her accounting business, away from her clients and the demands of her new husband’s ranch. Time alone with Colby was precious. He’d wanted to spend their honeymoon in Kansas City, close to home in case he was needed. She hadn’t wanted that at all. She’d had to do some persuading—she’d enjoyed every delicious second—but he had given in.
She glanced at him, shivering at knowing he belonged to her. Only her. It wasn’t wrong to want time away from their everyday world to get to know each other much, much better. When she’d seen an ad about Cozumel, she’d made an instant decision: that was where she wanted to go. It would be nothing at all like Kansas. He’d agreed but had shopped around online for the best deal. Besides that, he insisted she not go all crazy with overspending on trinkets.
“We already have more than enough bits of girly stuff sitting around collecting dust.” The words had rankled, knowing he referred to the numerous small collections that had belonged to her mother. He hadn’t been thrilled when her father let her take them to his very minimalistic house. She’d huffed at him in annoyance about his warning for their trip. But she would try to keep her impulsive buying to a minimum.
It wasn’t that they were close on money. The ranch was paid for and he had a good chunk of savings and investments. And she had a nice size inheritance she could draw from. He was just Mr. Conservative and determined about the matter. She was an accountant and paid close attention to the spending habits of her clients for their businesses. She didn’t overspend for her business, either. Personally, though, she hated budgets. Colby stuck to them.
She imagined they would have a lot of disagreements about budgets in their marriage. She wouldn’t win them all, but some would be good. They’d already had a small disagreement about how much she’d spent on new clothes for the honeymoon. She’d “graciously” let him warm her bottom when he’d given her the choice of returning the clothes or getting spanked. Clothes were more important; her bottom recovered before too long.
“Come on, Colby,” she pleaded, growing more impatient.
From his stomach down position, he turned his head and opened one chocolate brown eye to look at her. “I'm on vacation. Sleeping in is part of my dream.”
He gave her a crooked grin, looking sexy as hell with his thick, black hair all mussed and the five o’clock shadow clinging to his carved face. “’Course having sex almost 24/7 this week with my new wife is a bigger part of my dream.”
At his comment, spoken in his oh-so-sexy deep voice, warmth spiraled through her. Tingles down low led to moisture beading in a place that enjoyed having her husband fulfill his dreams. He’d worked hard at pleasing them both until the wee hours of the morning. Instead of feeling exhausted like him, she was flying high with energy. She wouldn’t mind climbing back in bed and jumping his gorgeous bones, but she didn’t want to hurt him. She had plans for him later. She’d been thinking about a certain position that seemed mighty interesting and she was pretty limber. Maybe she would let him rest after all.
“I’m afraid you’re all-talk and no-can-do as far as the 24/7 sex goes.” When he frowned, she smiled to let him know she was teasing. “How about we try for 20/7? I need some rest, too, my big stud muffin.”
“Did I hurt you last night, sweetheart?” he asked, turning serious. “I got a bit carried away.”
She fanned her face. “A bit? I lost count of my orgasms. But am I complaining? Double darn, no.” She slid a long, leisurely look over the worn out cowboy. “I’ll give you a break, let Mr. Wowser get back into playing condition.”
Colby shifted onto his back, the sheet way down at his knees. He took hold of his semi-hard cock with one hand, making her think about reconsidering her decision. “Mr. Wowser?” he asked, stroking his shaft again and grinning while he watched her reaction.
“Yeah, got a problem with that?” She struggled, torn between the desire to sight see and the passion of taking charge of his pleasure tool
“Nah, I’m good with it. Just don’t tell anyone.” His gaze turned annoyed and he gave his cock one final stroke. “Like you told everyone about the damn nickname, Super Stud Cowboy.”
“You already spanked me for that.” She took another step back from the bed, moving her hands to cover her bottom. “I don’t know why the title upsets you. It’s a compliment.”
He still looked unhappy. “If half the town didn’t know about it, it wouldn’t be so bad. But the men tease me sometimes.”
Best to let the subject drop, she decided. She put her hands on her bikini-clad hips, delighted to see his eyes widen now that he noticed the scrap of fabric she was wearing. “I’m antsy. I want to go out and do something.”
“I thought you were going to be on your best behavior on this trip.” He sat up and moved back against the headboard.
“I haven’t done anything wrong.” Yet. She blew out a breath of frustration. “I just want to get out of this room. We’ve already been here almost solid for 24 hours.”
“So you haven’t been enjoying those almost 24 hours?” His testiness disappeared and he gave her a cocky grin of challenge.
She’d already learned men liked to have their egos stroked now and then. In this case, he deserved it. “You’ve been amazing. Super fantastic. Mind blowing magnificent. Yada, yada, yada.” She focused on his cock. “It appears your brilliant woman pleaser is almost ready to dazzle me some more.”
She sighed, thinking there was more to see in Cozumel, even at this resort, than just this room. “But I want to go see some sights, go to the beach, go do anything but stay here another five minutes.”
“Brandi Lynn,” his tone revealed how tired he was, how uncertain. He yawned, rubbed at his eyes. “You’ve got to be exhausted, too. You were right with me every step of the way last night.”
“I’m not going to waste my day like you. I need to see what’s outside this room.” Before she could stop herself, she stomped her sandaled foot. “I’m leaving this room with or without you,” she added more quietly, yet determined.
“Do you want to start our vacation this way?” He slipped from the bed and walked toward her, big and naked, and his eyes sparked with aggravation.
That darn foot! Always getting her into trouble. She steeled herself for confrontation. “All right, I’m sorry I stomped my foot. It was childish.”
“Yes it was, Brandi Lynn. You know how I feel about your little temper tantrums.” He stood in front of her, all pissed off male.
“It wasn’t a tantrum,” she countered. “I have an uncontrollable foot sometimes.” Maybe she could distract him. Stomping her foot was one of his biggest pet peeves and she was trying to stop the habit. She reached out to smooth her hand over his chest. “Have I mentioned how much I love your pecs?”
Colby took hold of her hand. “Uh-uh. You’re not going to distract me that way.” His gaze shifted to her bottom. “Bend over, hands to your knees.”
“Seriously? It was just a little stomp.” Tears misted her eyes and she gave him a pleading look. “Please don’t do this now. I’m sorry.” She covered her bottom with her hands. “I’ve already got my bikini on to go layout for a bit and …”
“A red bottom would be embarrassing.” He drew in a breath and relented. “Okay this time, but don’t do it again. Next time I’m taking off whatever shoe you have on and paddling your butt with it. Understand?”
She nodded, pulling in a breath of relief. He wasn’t a cruel man by any means, but he could be focused. Part of their agreement before they’d married was that he would be the head of their household. He took his role to heart. He’d been helping her change some bad habits. She was okay with it, even though sometimes her bottom paid a price when she failed. This had been a minor mess up, made worse because he was tired.
Time to get out of the room and let him get some more rest. She moved toward the table where she'd dropped her beach towel and sunglasses. “I’ll just go find a chaise on the beach to sun on until you're ready to do something else.”
He pulled her close before she could dash out the door. His erection pressed against her, thick and hard, pulsing. She shivered in his embrace and smiled when he kissed the top of her head. Then he took the towel and sunglasses from her and tossed them to the floor. Neither spoke as he walked her backward across the room until she stood against the wall.
Her heart raced, anticipation thrummed through her. She liked this aggressive side of him, this I-want-you-right-damn-now side. Because she wanted the same thing.
“I’ve changed my mind about letting you leave right now.” He cupped her head with his hands, bent down until he could kiss a favored spot on the side of her neck. “I’m going to have a little fun first.” He reached between them and molded her hand around his cock. “Mr. Wowser wants some action.”
He leaned back to look at her. “And that is the last time I’m calling my dick that.”
She didn’t care. All she cared about at the moment was how he’d begun nibbling her ear lobe behind her chin-length hair, kissing the sensitive spot beside it. She trailed a finger up and down his cock, beamed at the way it jerked within her grasp. “Guess I can spare a minute or two.”
“It’s going to be wild, darlin’.” He untied first one side of her bikini bottom and then the other. The simple touch of his fingers on her skin made her pulse race, wishing he’d hurry up.
As she continued stroking him, he gritted his teeth on a groan, and untied her top as well, tossing it to the floor. When she stood as naked as he was, he reached down to run a hand between her legs. She eased them further apart in cooperation.
“Good girl,” he praised, his voice gritty, needy. He spent a wicked second touching her hardened clit, playing.
She ground closer. “You naughty boy.” Oh, this was heaven.
He lightly pinched the button, making her gasp. “Man, sweetheart. I’m a man.”
“My mistake,” she said, gasping for breath, as he continued tormenting the toy he’d found. “Man, all man.”
He grinned when he pulled his hand up and his fingers were wet. “I’m glad I didn’t let you get away too soon.”
She circled her arms around his neck and rose up on tiptoes. “Is this the best you can do, cowboy?”
“Bossy woman.” He smacked her bottom once and then reached down to lift her right leg up high. His cockhead nuzzled her swollen lips. “I can do better. But I don’t think I can handle much foreplay right now.”
“Foreplay is overrated.” Brandi pulled herself up higher and seated herself on him. “Oh, yes, exactly what I needed.”
Colby grimaced as she lifted up so she almost slid off and then drove back down again. He continued holding her right leg high which made her squeeze him tighter as she moved. “Thought you were in a hurry to get out of here,” he teased.
She squeezed him, moved her body to circle slowly on his rod. Leaning her head back as the sensations grew, she gasped, “A few more minutes won’t hurt.”
His tongue found her neck, licked just under her chin. At the same time he held her in place. His hips surged forward, impaled his cock deeper and deeper. She met each of his drives, savored each one. She was hot all over; he was sweating and grunting from the effort. Neither could stop moving, both searching for that place where all thought disappeared.
Her clit hardened more and more with each piston of his cock sliding by it. The little jewel was so hard it almost hurt. She was wet and slick as he jammed into her. Drive after drive. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, and could only feel. Then it was there, that moment of agonized ecstasy.
“Oh Colby! Oh God!” She clung to him in desperation as he pried the climax from her, all the while thrusting upward over and over. When she was finished, she leant on him, limp and drained. Still he held her. His face mirrored intense need, his jaw tight. His hips bucked as he rode harder, deeper. Seconds later he grunted out her name and ejaculated in a hot rush.
Slowly he eased her to her feet and they stood there forehead to forehead while the world steadied around them.
At last he stepped away from her and flashed a very satisfied male grin. “Okay, you can go lounge about now. I’m plum worn out.” He reached down to pick up her bikini and handed the pieces to her. He was still pulling in ragged breaths. “Thanks for obliging this ole cowboy’s need of his woman.”
“Anytime, cowboy, anytime.” She gave him a cheeky grin and dashed into the bathroom for a quick cleanup and tied her bikini back on.
When she came out again, he handed her the towel and sunglasses. “Don't wander off, darlin’. Stay on the beach. I haven't had a look around yet and I want to make sure you're safe.” He gave her a light swat to her bottom. “I mean it.”
She rolled her eyes, but resisted telling him that she could take care of herself. He liked taking care of her and she didn’t mind, sometimes. “No problem. I want to get started on a good tan. Just don't make me stay there too long, or I'll burn.”
“Half hour tops, but stay put.”
Brandi hurried out, knowing it would be more like an hour at the earliest before he'd come for her. He wasn’t the fastest shower taker and shaver in the world. Still, it was early in the day and with her sunscreen she would be fine.
***
Brandi watched yet another parasailer go by, followed by two jet skiers. Down the beach a group was getting ready to leave for a snorkel cruise. Another group behind her was donning fins to snorkel in the water by the nearby pier. Everyone but her was having a good time. She'd been here tanning and waiting for Colby for well over an hour. Well, she'd been patient enough!
She stood, grabbed her towel and headed for the activity booth. A tingle of unease crept up her spine, but she ignored it and walked to the smiling Mexican working there and asked, “Is it too late to rent a snorkel set and fins?” She'd never snorkeled before, but how hard could it be? No one she’d watched seemed to have any problem.
Grinning even more, the much shorter man reached behind the counter and pulled up just what she'd asked for. “Room number?”
She hesitated a second, wondering if she was being too impulsive. Colby wouldn't like her going off by herself. But she wasn’t going off by herself. She planned to snorkel around the other guests. Besides, she'd probably be done and back sunning long before he managed to make it down here to the beach. What the heck was holding him up anyway? No doubt he’d gotten another stupid call from Thad with another issue at the ranch. His partner had already called two times since they’d gotten here.
“1114,” she said, taking the items, and then turning to find the people she'd spotted earlier.

Where the hell is she? Colby was not happy about coming all the way down here to the beach and not finding his wife. He should have known she wouldn't stay put. Yes, he'd taken a little longer than he'd planned to because of the call from Thad, but he'd told her not to wander off. This was a strange place and there were too damn many men hanging around the hotel—even if most seemed to be with their wife or mate. Why the hell had he allowed her to wear that bikini? Why hadn't he insisted on something one piece, something without a low back or plunging neckline? Maybe one of those ankle-length sundresses he’d seen an older woman wearing as he’d walked through the hotel lobby.
He shook his head. Okay, he was being silly. She was a good-looking woman, but she didn't flaunt herself for anyone other than him. Thank God. He was just acting crazy because he couldn't find her.
Angling one hand to shade his eyes, he scanned the beach area once more. Not one sunbather. Damn.
He started to turn away when he caught sight of two patches of hot pink bobbing in the water near the pier. His gut tightened and he headed closer. The hot pink patches he saw were definitely a bikini. He tensed when he realized it was Brandi…and she was snorkeling.
Alone.
His heart pounded as he strode toward the edge of the water. As far as he knew, she'd never gone snorkeling before. She didn't even swim well. Yet she was out there in who knew how deep water—alone! He was going to roast her butt!
A minute later she dog paddled in the water and looked toward shore. He knew the instant she spotted him. She floundered a second, then righted herself and shoved off her mask and spit out the snorkel to choke out saltwater. He stood; legs planted wide apart, body rigid with fury, as she made her way out of the water.
Doing an awkward one-legged stand to remove her fins, she gave him a weak smile.
He didn't return it. “We're going back up to our room for a while, Brandi Lynn Pennington.”
She blushed and removed the other fin. “I waited a long time.”
“Not long enough.” Colby stepped into the shallow water and took the fins, then latched onto her hand and tugged her behind him. “I distinctly remember telling you to stay put. Not to wander off.” He glanced back at her. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” she said, her tone sincere and tinged with regret.
In spite of the fins and snorkel gear they were holding, he drew her to him and hugged her close. A shudder went through him at how worried he’d been. “If something had happened to you…” He hugged her again before releasing her.
They dropped off the snorkel equipment and walked without speaking through the beach area, through the lobby, down the long hallway, and all the way to their secluded suite on the top floor of the hotel. Neither said a word even as they walked into the suite and Colby shut the door.
Her nerves tingling, Brandi waited as her husband glanced around the rooms. Finally, he moved to the Spanish-style sofa and sat down right in the middle. She started toward him, but he held up a hand to stop her and said, “Bring the brush.”
The brush! She wanted to refuse. She'd prefer getting a spanking, a nice simple hand spanking. But then she'd not only disobeyed him but she'd also been caught in the water alone. Colby had hard and fast rules when it came to water safety, especially with her since he knew she couldn’t swim. She'd broken those rules. She’d made a decision to do something just because it seemed like fun. She’d been both bored and irritated with him for not coming to find her. She wasn’t a child or a young adult anymore. She was a grown up woman who ran a business and joined a man in marriage. It was time she acted more responsible.
Angry with herself more than him, she went into the adjoining bathroom and found her large, wooden hairbrush. She should have left the stupid thing home.
As she approached, Colby patted his leg. He took the brush and set it down, nodding. “You know what to do.”
She hesitated, worrying her lip a second and studying his khaki shorts. “I’m wet. I’ll….”
“Okay, take off the bikini.”
She thought about turning away to do so, then realized how stupid that was. Still, her face heated as she untied the bottom, let it drop to the floor and then removed the top as well. She stood naked before him about to be spanked and ashamed that she deserved it.
“Stretch over, sweetheart,” he said, his voice husky, which made her feel somewhat better. At least her being naked was affecting him. Not enough to change his mind, though.
She crawled onto the leather sofa by his right side and slid across his lap. The mixed feel of his cotton shorts and hairy thighs seemed odd beneath the bare skin of her abdomen. The leather felt cool against her legs and arms as she stretched out. If only they were going to do something else here, something much more enjoyable.
He nudged her forward until her bottom was in the spot he preferred on his right thigh. “You might want to grab hold of the cushion,” he said, “because this is going to sting.”
A warning like that was never good. In a flash, she latched onto the cushion in front of her and dug her toes into the one behind her. Her buttocks clenched, then she forced herself to relax them, knowing it hurt a whole lot more if she was tense. Before she could take another breath, it started.
Colby’s hand connected with her bottom in a steady rain, a biting downpour of pain. No warm up this time. She squirmed and dug her toes in further, hissing under her breath. He meant business.
“I was hoping not to have to spank you at all on this trip.” Eight sizzling smacks landed on her sit spot. “But you just can’t seem to stay out of trouble. This time something bad could have happened. I could have….”
She heard him pull in a deep breath, knew he was trying to calm down. She hated that she’d frightened him. If the situation had been reversed, if he’d been the one to do something potentially dangerous, she would have been every bit as frustrated.
“I’m so sorry,” she whimpered, braced to accept whatever he needed to do.
Another dozen smacks sailed onto her quivering buttocks. “You mean so damn much to me,” he gritted out, smoothing his hand over her burning bottom.
She sucked in a sharp breath and dashed at her tears as he stopped to pick up the brush. “I can’t seem to help myself,” she gasped out. “I got bored, acted foolishly.”
“You’ll think before you do something so dangerous again. I guaran-damn-te it.” The first swat landed in the middle of her right cheek with a resounding crack!
She yelped, arching backward. “Oh! That hurts!”
He pushed her into place again. “I reckon it does.”

Fool Me Once

Fool Me Once
https://amzn.to/2L7caEA
Jessica Joy
Chapter One

Blair Kierstead glared down at the unconscious woman on the narrow hospital bed. Even though her head was swathed in a bandage and an angry purple welt stained her left cheek, Toni Greer was stunning. With a sharp sigh, he spun away and scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck. He’d learned too late her beauty was only skin deep.
Anger ripped through Blair, as it had countless times since Toni’s crash had landed her back in his life. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. It was the only way he could stop them from snaking around her slender neck and shaking her into consciousness. Then, he could demand answers to questions that had haunted him for almost two years.
The door scuffed open. Drew Bryant, Blair’s closest friend and ex-superior from his days with the FBI, strode into the antiseptic room with a mug of steaming coffee in each hand. Blair turned toward him, every muscle taut from the effort it took to restrain two years of pent up emotion. Drew’s pinstripe suit, white shirt, and silk tie were glaring reminders that their days of working deep undercover belonged to a different lifetime; to two different men. After their last disastrous assignment, Blair had turned in his badge, and Drew had accepted a promotion to a desk job; something Blair had sworn he would never do.
Drew passed a mug to Blair then glanced toward the bed. “No change?”
Blair shook his head, following his friend’s gaze. A glimpse of Toni’s honey-gold hair and creamy skin was enough to set off yet another wave of self-recrimination. He had trusted her. That error in judgment had nearly cost him his life. But, far worse, two good men had paid for his mistake with their lives; a blunder for which he would never forgive himself.
Drew’s thoughtful gaze was fixed on Toni as he took a sip of coffee. “What the hell is she doing here?”
Though an answer was unnecessary, Blair bit out “Farrell Hagen.” The electrically charged words crackled in the air between them.
Drew nodded. “Toni disappeared a couple of days ago. The logical conclusion was foul play.” Their eyes met. “You know Hagen.”
Blair gave a grim nod. Yes, he knew Hagen, knew everything about him. He’d spent months studying Hagen’s double life: the wealthy philanthropist and the elusive criminal. But the weeks of painstaking research hadn’t helped him when he’d led a covert operation to apprehend the man who dabbled in everything from drug running to murder. He’d only succeeded in leading his team into an ambush and nearly getting himself killed. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so intent on nailing Hagen, he would have sensed Toni’s impending betrayal and his colleagues wouldn’t have died.
Dragging his thoughts out of the murky past, Blair watched Drew swirl his coffee in his mug. The small gesture transmitted Drew’s agitation more effectively than a lengthy discourse. On assignment, their ability to read silent messages had meant the difference between life and death. “So, what’s the scoop?”
Drew stepped closer to the bed and set his mug on the nightstand, his lips compressed into a thin, bloodless line. “Not long after Toni disappeared, the word on the street was that Hagen was offering a quarter of a million dollars to anyone who could locate her.”
Blair blew out a long, soft breath. Hagen’s obsession with Toni was renowned. “He wants her back – badly. The question is why?”
Drew gave a humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t we all like to know the answer to that?”
Whatever caused her flight would no doubt be very useful to the Bureau. “Why not simply take her into protective custody?”
“Because the truth is...” Drew leveled a solemn gaze on Blair. “I’m not sure I can keep her alive.”
“What?” Blair’s mug lurched to a stop halfway to his mouth, the contents spilling over the rim. He didn’t want to believe what he was hearing.
“I’d bet my pension we’ve got a leak; a big one.”
Blair’s stomach knotted at the thought of an agent selling out to scum like Hagen.
“Every time we think we’ve got Hagen right where we want him, he slips through our fingers. Crucial evidence disappears or a deal changes location,” Drew stated, frustration clinging to his words. “Someone inside has to be working for him.” His glance was weighty with meaning. “That’s why I didn’t tell anyone at the Bureau that Toni is here. As far as they know, I’m on vacation for a couple of days.”
Given his feelings for Toni, Blair would have liked nothing better than to toss her back onto Hagen’s lap and let her deal with the consequences, but that couldn’t erase the past or bring back the men who’d died. Besides, if there was a mole working for Hagen, Drew would need his help to keep Toni out of Hagen’s clutches long enough to make use of what she knew to expose the traitor and, hopefully, take down Hagen at the same time. He needed to be a part of any operation that brought down Hagen once and for all. Perhaps it would exorcise some of the ghosts haunting his days and help him begin to make peace with his past, if he ever could. He wanted in, even if it meant protecting Toni Greer. “What’s the plan?”
“For now, let her stay at your place – keep her out of sight. You’d be the last person they’d expect her to turn to.”
“That’s for sure.” Blair didn’t try to hide the harsh edge in his voice.
Drew leveled a searching glance on him.
“I’ll be fine,” Blair responded to the unspoken question in his friend’s eyes. In the past, he’d never allowed his feelings to interfere with an assignment, and he certainly wouldn’t start now, even with an unofficial one.
A sound, between a sigh and a cough, came from the bed behind them. In unison both men turned, focusing on the waking Toni. Her eyelids fluttered open. Confusion shimmered in sea green eyes as her gaze collided with Blair’s. “Where am I?”
“Mason’s Cove,” Blair answered and watched a deep furrow form between her brows.
Silently, she mouthed the words then sank her teeth into her lower lip, staring intently into his eyes. “This is a hospital room. What happened?” Her questioning gaze darted to Drew and then back to Blair. “Why am I here?”
Either she was an actress worthy of an Oscar, or something was very wrong. Blair watched for a crack in her facade. She’d fooled him once before, and he didn’t repeat mistakes; especially not fatal ones. “You were knocked unconscious when your car skidded into the ditch beside my driveway.”
His instincts twitched a sure sign of trouble. The tension in the room was so thick he could almost curl his fingers around it. He darted a quick glance at Drew. Wary watchfulness burned in his friend’s eyes.
“Your driveway?” She drew her brows together until they almost met and then shook her head. “We’re friends?”
At one time he’d thought they were friends; a lifetime ago when he’d believed she was someone he could trust. He refused to play the fool again. “Yes,” he intoned, hating the lie, but determined to play the game.
Liquid crystal tears shimmered in her eyes. “I don’t remember you.”
Damn, she was good. The catch in her voice was perfectly executed. For an instant, he almost believed that the panic rising in her eyes was genuine.
A lone tear slipped from the corner of her eye, then dropped onto the pillow. A second tear followed the first. “I don’t remember anything.” She took a deep, shuddery breath. “Anything at all.”
Minutes later, in the corridor outside Toni’s room, Blair faced Aram Madigan, his life-long friend and the physician treating Toni. Silently, he roared at the tangled mess fate had tossed in his lap. As much as he didn’t like it, Toni’s condition appeared to be genuine.
“Retrograde amnesia?” Blair’s quietly spoken words belied the acid frustration consuming him. “Which means?”
He had a pretty good idea what it meant, but just maybe, if luck was with him, Aram would prove him wrong. But then, if luck had been with him, Toni wouldn’t have come crashing back into his life.
“It would appear the head trauma she sustained in the accident has caused a temporary memory loss.”
“Temporary as in hours, days?” He paused, not wanting vocalize the third possibility, but went on anyway. “Weeks?”
“Any of the above.” Aram’s brown eyes lit with speculation, but he was too good a friend to pry. “When you’re dealing with the brain, there’s still a lot we simply don’t know.” Aram closed Toni’s stainless steel chart and tucked it under his arm. “And when her memory does return, it might be in fragments or all at once.”
“Could we jog her memory somehow? Hypnosis?”
Aram arched one dark eyebrow. Blair knew that he was pushing, but the sooner they knew the circumstances that brought Toni here the better.
“It might not be a good idea. I suspect the blow to her head was only partially responsible for her amnesia.”
“What?” This day was going from bad to worse by giant leaps and bounds. No matter how unpalatable the news, he would respect Aram’s assessment of Toni’s condition. Aram was one of the best. He’d passed up a lucrative practice in Boston to return to his hometown and open a family practice.
“Something’s wrong.” A crevice formed between Aram’s eyebrows. “Her concussion was mild. In theory, it should have produced some confusion, a headache, maybe some dizziness; not unconsciousness and amnesia.”
Blair pressed his back against the concrete wall and gave a long, hard sigh. Aram was probably closer to the truth than he realized. Everything about this was wrong. His gaze met Drew’s whose expression was as dour as he felt.
What could have brought Toni here to him? He was positive he hadn’t mentioned the name of his hometown when he’d met her two years ago, which meant she’d made a deliberate effort to find him. It also suggested her flight was premeditated. Who was she running from? And if her life was in danger, why had she come to him instead of going to Hagen? He had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the answer to either of those questions.
***
In the bathroom of her hospital room, Toni Greer pressed her palms against the white enamel sink and studied her reflection in the chrome-rimmed mirror. Deliberately, she inspected each feature, the bandage covering the cut on the side of her forehead, and the garish welt staining her cheek.
“Who are you, Toni Greer?” she whispered to her mirror image. “Why are you hiding from me?”
Dr. Madigan had cautioned her not to try to force the memories to return, but rather to allow them to resurface gradually. She gave a sharp sigh. That was easy for him to say. His memory hadn’t gone AWOL. He didn’t look at a stranger every time he brushed his teeth or washed his face. He didn’t have a void where a past should have been.
Frustrated, she pushed herself away from her disturbing mirror image, wincing as her bruised shoulder protested. Shuffling out of the bathroom, she crossed the room to her bed. Yesterday afternoon, she’d woken up with a headache, cotton wool for brains, and a badly bruised shoulder. In the twenty-four hours since that time, she’d ignored the doctor’s advice and had struggled to retrieve her past. The harder she tried, however, the more elusive her memories became. Veiled images danced just beyond her reach, taunting her. Only Blair’s steadying presence had stopped her from giving in to the panic threatening to overwhelm her.
Toni smiled at the thought of her guardian angel dressed in an unlikely costume of black leather, plaid flannel, and indecently snug denim. From her first glance into his smoky gray eyes, she’d sensed a connection, something primitive, comforting, and unnerving all rolled up into one potent package.
Blair’s chiseled features were too strong to be classically handsome, yet she found each one infinitely fascinating. The unyielding line of his jaw promised inner strength but also unbending stubbornness; the makings of a loyal friend or a formidable adversary. He’d told her they’d met and become friends two years ago when he’d been working as a photographer in New York. Judging from the undercurrents of tension eddying in the room whenever he was present, she couldn’t help but wonder what had been left unsaid. Toni exhaled slowly and sank against the pillows. She sensed that there was a lot more in their past than friendship. Her cheeks grew warm. Her memory was damaged, but her body’s reaction to Blair proved her libido had come through the accident unscathed.
She raked her fingers through her hair, angry at the stubborn wall in her mind. Her past might be a mystery, but she’d already learned one thing about herself. She wasn’t a patient woman. The sketchy details of her life Blair had provided weren’t enough, but it was all the good doctor had allowed.
Toni looked at the large brown leather bag on her nightstand. Blair said it was hers, but it didn’t feel like hers any more than the successful modeling career he’d mentioned. Was she really a wealthy and internationally renowned model? Her forehead wrinkled in a frown. She leaned over and brought the oversized bag to her lap. Shouldn’t the bag or its contents feel familiar?
The first item to emerge was a wallet bulging with cash and a rainbow of credit cards. Why was she carrying such a large amount of cash, with so much credit at her disposal? She leafed through the little plastic sleeves, stopping at her driver’s license. The unsmiling woman in the picture looked like her, but the expression in her eyes was guarded, almost sad. It didn’t feel like she was looking at herself, only a photo of someone who looked like her. Had she become disenchanted with her glamorous life? She snapped the wallet shut in a burst of frustration. Blair was in cahoots with her dark-eyed, dark-haired doctor and refused to discuss her past in any detail. No answers would be forthcoming on that front.
She dropped the wallet into the bag and shifted the contents, stifling discomfort. Logically, she knew it was her bag, but it still felt like she was rifling through someone else’s belongings, stealing someone else’s life.
Toni’s hand closed around a large, square compact. For an instant, an image flashed in her mind’s eye. She jerked her hand back with a gasp. She saw the compact in a woman’s hand. A shudder rippled through her from the nape of her neck to the tips of her toes. Her fingers trembled and her heart beat hard in her chest. Once again, she grasped the slim ivory compact; nothing. She pulled it out of the bag, pausing for a few seconds before she opened it. Plastic covered the small pots of blush and eye shadow. It was brand new. Toni exhaled sharply. What had she expected to find? The hand passing the compact to her must have been a clerk. If so, why had fear and tension accompanied the single-frame image?
She shoved the compact back into the bag but couldn’t dismiss the sense of foreboding. Perhaps the doctor was right. Her attempts to force the memories to the surface might have caused this disturbing experience, but to stop the search for her past was an unacceptable alternative. She returned the bag to the utilitarian nightstand and crossed her arms over her chest.
Through the large plate glass window, Toni saw the tops of evergreens swaying back and forth, caught in the relentless grip of a brisk winter wind. That was exactly how she felt; at the mercy of forces beyond her control and dogged by a profound sense of loss.
Perhaps this feeling of loss was normal for someone who’d lost a lifetime, but she wanted to reclaim her life. If Blair wouldn’t tell her more about her past, she would have to find some other way to retrieve it herself.
***
Blair paused in the doorway of Toni’s room, ensnared by the picture of discouragement before him. Toni, dressed in a simple standard hospital issue nightgown, reclined on her bed. A well-washed blanket covered her legs. Her moss green eyes were staring out the window, unfocused. Her shoulders drooped. At the sound of a long heartfelt sigh, he crushed an unruly wave of protectiveness struggling to surface. Resentment simmered. No one knew how to protect herself better than Toni Greer; the old Toni. He wasn’t so sure about this one.
He gave himself a brisk mental shake. Thoughts like this were dangerous. Forgetting, even for a fraction of a second, who he was dealing with could cost him his life.
Granted, it was disconcerting to see Toni without her customary mask of controlled indifference. Rarely, in all the months he’d worked with her, had it slipped. People assumed she was beautiful but not too bright; an image she allowed, and at times even cultivated to her advantage. Nothing was further from the truth. Her mind was razor sharp. In all the years he had worked deep undercover, Toni had been the only person to see through one of his carefully constructed covers. She’d given her word not to betray him. He’d believed her. She’d drawn him into Hagen’s social circle. He’d thanked her. Then, she’d ruthlessly betrayed him, and he’d nearly died.
The cunning and heartless lover of Farrell Hagen was the woman he had to remember. His hand tightened around the narrow neck of the vase of flowers in his hand. This Toni, with her shy smiles and eyes devoid of shadows, was an illusion that would no doubt disappear when she recovered from her amnesia.
Watching her, he acknowledged that the past twenty-four hours had introduced another unexpected complication into this already tumultuous situation; a powerful physical attraction. He couldn’t even walk into her hospital room without waging a war with his own body. Two years ago, there hadn’t been any chemistry between them whatsoever. Why now? The timing certainly couldn’t be worse.
Toni shifted then straightened her shoulders. Blair watched as a determined glint replaced the solemn expression. Had she remembered what had happened? He hoped so. It would put an end to the emotional upheaval her arrival in his life had created.
He cleared his throat and stepped into the room. Toni turned and smiled; a brilliant smile shimmered in her eyes. It hit him like a sucker punch to the solar plexus and left him just as winded.
“Flowers? How sweet!” Toni took the bouquet and leaned toward the fragrant blossoms, inhaling deeply. With a soft smile, she looked up and said, “Thank you, Blair!”
Feeling like a fraud, he flushed. The bouquet had simply been a prop to win her trust. He’d seen them when he’d passed through the lobby of the hospital and thought that it would help him construct a cover as her friend. When Toni’s memory returned, he would still have to convince her that he didn’t suspect her part in the ambush of his men and that he was someone she could trust.
“Glad you like them,” he said with a single shoulder shrug, wishing that his groin wasn’t already starting to mutiny. He hitched onto the side of the bed.
“Like them? I love them!” She leaned over to place the flowers on the nightstand beside her bag. As she moved, the well-washed fabric of the nightie molded against the soft curves of her breasts. Blair bit back a groan. Why had his iron control deserted him? There was only one thing hard about him at that moment and that was in his jeans.
Blair looked into her clear, guileless eyes, and for a handful of seconds, he didn’t want the old Toni to return. Shucking off that thought, he knew he really must be going crazy. Two years ago, he’d admired her. What man with a pulse wouldn’t? She was lauded as one of the most beautiful women in the world. Even so, he’d never had unruly desire take him at the knees in her presence, and that unnerved him more than looking down the barrel of a gun. It was a battle he’d never expected to wage.
“I heard a rumor you’re going to be a free woman this afternoon,” he said.
Toni nodded, but her smile was forced. Tension rolled off her in waves. How strange to be able to read her so easily. Once again, he had the unnerving sensation that he was dealing with another woman. But he wasn’t, and for that reason he couldn’t let down his guard even though Toni’s smiles made him feel like a teenager at the mercy of an avalanche of heady hormones.
“I’ll step out and take care of the paperwork while you dress, then we can head back to my place.”
For the first time since he’d walked into the room, her gaze fell away from his. She was pulling back. He couldn’t let that happen, not yet.
“Blair, I do appreciate your offer to let me stay with you but...”
Her obvious discomfort was fascinating and so unlike the Toni he used to know. “But?”
“I...I think that I should go back home...to my home in New York. Perhaps, seeing my own things might help jog some memories.”
He should have expected this. The old Toni was fiercely independent. “You can’t.”
She blinked. Her miffed, surprised expression was almost comical. “Why not?”
“You promised to spend Christmas with me.” How easily the lie slipped out. He’d lived so many lies when he’d worked undercover, but this was the first one that caused him a twinge of guilt. He didn’t need to deal with a conscience gone awry in addition to unruly desire.
“But that was before the accident. I don’t know you.”
Perhaps the chemistry arcing between them would be useful for something. “Can you honestly say we feel like strangers?”
She studied him for a moment and then shook her head. “Not really.”
“Stay here until Christmas. If your memory still hasn’t returned by then, I’ll take you to New York myself.”
Hopefully, if her memory hadn’t returned in three weeks, Drew would have been able to find out what had brought her tumbling into his life. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn’t shake the moral code he’d lived by all of his life. Even after everything Toni had done, allowing her to return to the city, and undoubtedly a lethal trap, wasn’t an option. He gave a silent, derisive snort. He was a veritable knight in rusty armor.
Unbidden and unwanted, an image from the past stole into his mind. Toni had called him ‘her Lancelot’. What a fool he’d been! He’d thought she’d finally trusted him, when all the time she’d simply been acting a part and gaining his trust. It was the same thing as he was doing now, so why did he feel like a fraud instead of justified?
“Blair—”
“Look it will probably only be a few days before your memory is as good as new. You need time to recuperate before you take on the Big Apple.” He gave what he’d hoped was a lazy smile. A soft flush washed over her cheeks and she nodded. This Toni was as susceptible to him as he was to her.
‘This Toni’. He’d done it again, thinking about them as two different women.
She ran her tongue over her lips then swallowed. “Christmas is over three weeks away,” she whispered; her voice husky with suppressed tears. “It’s only been twenty-four hours and not knowing who I am is driving me crazy.”
“Forcing the memories won’t do you any good.”
She flashed him a wry smile. “Now you’re starting to sound like the doctor.”
“Because he’s right.”
She stroked her fingertips back and forth across her forehead, a gesture he’d come to recognize as one of agitation; something new. “Neither of you knows what it’s like to have a void where memories should be.” She blinked away the tears gathering in her eyes. “You call me Toni, but I feel like I’m answering to another woman’s name.” She tugged her wallet from her bag and flipped it open. “Look at this.”
He glanced at her driver’s license and then back at her. “It’s you.”
“The picture looks like me, but,” Toni stared at the picture, a frown creasing her forehead, “I know this is going to sound crazy, but it doesn’t feel like me.”
Toni was right. It did look like her, but the distant look in her eyes was unlike the woman before him whose eyes were clear, reflecting every emotion, every feeling; not brittle and remote. With the past erased, the cause of whatever had prompted Toni to build such a thick protective shell was gone as well.
Two years ago, when Blair had prepared for the assignment that first brought him into contact with Toni Greer, he’d learned that she was the only child of wealthy, but neglectful, parents. She’d left home at seventeen when her modeling career had started to provide a comfortable income. She’d been on her own ever since; over seven years. Once, during a rare private lunch when Toni had been uncharacteristically relaxed and open, she admitted becoming entangled with Hagen had been the biggest mistake of her life.
“Toni, you aren’t doing yourself any good.” He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be stripped of a lifetime of memories. For someone who controlled every aspect of her life as Toni had, this situation was bound to be upsetting.
“You’re right, but I can’t seem to stop.” Her shoulders drooped.
“Why not take it a day at a time? You could wake up tomorrow and remember everything.”
Toni gave him a half-hearted smile and nodded. From the look in her eyes, she didn’t believe it any more than he did.
“Blair?” Indecision flickered in her eyes. Her lips parted but then pressed shut. She shook her head. “Nothing.”
What had she been about to ask? When she looked at him like that, her eyes full of trust he found it difficult to lie to her; so it was probably better if he didn’t know. “I’ll be back in about half an hour. Will you need any help getting dressed? I could ask the nurse come and give you a hand.”
“Thanks, but I think I can manage.”
A long slender leg slipped out from under the blanket. Blair clamped down on the riptide of desire sparked by the sight of her shapely calf. Retreat seemed to be the wisest course of action, at least for the moment. Turning on his heel, he started out of the room. He might be able to walk away from her but not from the unruly desire she evoked or the feeling that trouble; lots of it, was just around the corner.
Chapter Two

Blair tucked Toni’s discharge papers into the inside pocket of his leather jacket and turned to Drew, who had been waiting at the nursing station for him.
“Has Toni remembered anything?”
Blair shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Damn.” The word slipped out on a heartfelt sigh and packed a payload of frustration.
For a moment, silence hung between them, each man locked in his own thoughts.
Drew spoke first. “I’m leaving for Boston. You know my cell number; use it. Don’t call the office. Until the mole is apprehended, Toni’s whereabouts are strictly between you and me. In the meantime, I’ll nose around and see what I can find out without arousing suspicion.”
Blair hated the reminder that Hagen’s influence had infiltrated the Bureau. “Do you have any idea at all who the mole might be?”
Drew shook his head. “Whoever it is, they’ve managed to cover their tracks as only one of the best could, so that limits it to half a dozen agents who have the wherewithal to pull it off.” His expression turned granite hard.
“I hate the thought that one of our agents has sold out to scum like Hagen.” Blair vowed silently that, this time, the crime boss would take the fall. Two years ago, he hadn’t just lost two co-workers because of Hagen; he’d lost two friends. It was time for justice to be served.
For weeks following the ambush, Blair had dreaded going to sleep because his mind would replay the garish images of the night of the ambush: the sounds of the gunfire exploding around him, the coppery scent of the blood staining the ground, and cries of his fellow agents, his friends, falling and dying. This morning, for the first time in months, he’d woken up from a repeat of that same horrific nightmare. Bathed in sweat, his heart had throbbed in his chest. Toni’s arrival had resurrected the gruesome memories, but it might also provide the means to exorcise the demons of guilt that dogged him.
He’d asked himself a million times why he’d been spared when he’d been the one responsible for the screw up that had killed two good men. No answers ever came, and the burden of guilt grew heavier. The attackers hadn’t finished him off like the rest of his team. No doubt they assumed the bullets in his shoulder and side had. Somehow, he’d managed to hang onto life by a single stubborn thread.
“Don’t go there, Blair.” Drew’s voice dragged him away from the tormented path his thoughts had taken and back to the present.
Blair didn’t bother to deny what he’d been thinking. Drew knew him too well, and had spent too many hours at his bedside when his life teetered in the balance, not to know the dark turn his thoughts had taken.
“I can’t escape the past any more than you can,” Blair said quietly. The team had been together for five years. Drew hadn’t been present at the time of the massacre, but he’d taken the team’s losses equally hard. Their bonds went deep, and so did the scars that no one could see.
“We have to nail him this time...for both our sakes,” Blair added. He straightened before continuing, “Toni should be ready by now.”
Drew nodded. “Keep in touch.”
“Will do.”
Their eyes met and held before they turned away to begin the work that would seal this wound for good.
***
Toni darted a glance toward Blair as he maneuvered his SUV through the narrow streets of the seaside town he called home. In less than a day and a half, his profile, the lean line of his jaw, and even the little tell-tale bump on the bridge of his nose were already familiar to her. How had he broken his nose; in a brawl? She gave a silent laugh. There had to be a less dramatic explanation. Blair didn’t seem to be the type given to bursts of temper.
There was so much more she wanted to know about him; about them. He was a photographer. She was a model. Their careers had brought them together, but why had they become friends?
As much as she wanted to believe that there was more than friendship between them, there were times when Blair’s actions confused her. He was attentive and thoughtful. Often, physical awareness sizzled between them, but there was an ever-present barrier of reserve. Was it a result of her loss of memory or something that had happened before the accident? Had they argued?
He’d already proven he was a devoted friend. The day of the accident, after she regained consciousness, he had remained at her bedside through the day, chatting with her until well after midnight. She knew because she’d awoken in the night and had studied him through half-closed eyes.
There really hadn’t been any reason to feign sleep. She was sure his thoughts had wandered far from her room. His gaze had been unfocused while a muscle worked along his jaw. After a long, heartfelt sigh, he had closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the chair as if overcome with a great burden of weariness or sadness.
Though the exact nature of their relationship was wrapped in mystery, Toni was glad Blair had persuaded her to stay with him. She grinned. It hadn’t taken a whole lot of convincing. Her mood could swing from hopeful expectation to bargain basement discouragement at a moment’s notice. Blair was an anchor in this emotional storm.
As if that wasn’t enough of a reason to discourage her from returning to New York, a dream she couldn’t remember woke her in the early hours of the morning and left her gasping for breath over the thunderous pounding of her heart. Though anxious to regain her memory, she suspected dashing off to New York might not be the wisest course of action. Besides, a smoggy city couldn’t compare to this picturesque town dressed in its Yuletide finery. A sparkling layer of snow blanketed the rooves of Victorian homes trimmed with colorful lights, red bows, and evergreen boughs. Children bundled in brightly colored snowsuits made snow angels in their front yards and tossed snowballs at each other from behind three-foot high snow banks. Everything looked so normal, so peaceful, and so unlike how she felt.
Enough, she scolded silently. It was time to stop allowing uncertainty to mar the present. Her inability to remember the past shouldn’t prevent her from savoring what was going on around her. Her injuries were limited to a bump on the head and a few bruises, when they could have been life threatening. Though her past with Blair was an ongoing mystery, he’d proven himself to be a loyal and supportive friend. She had a lot to be thankful for, and she would try to remember that when frustration started to erode her peace of mind.
When the silence in the vehicle grew too loud, she glanced toward Blair once again and said, “Since the doctor has declared my past is off limits, perhaps you would tell me about yours.”
“Sure. What do you want to know?” Blair answered without taking his eyes off the road. He guided his vehicle onto the coastal highway that would take them to his home and leave the town behind.
“How long have you lived in Mason’s Cove?”
“I was born and raised here but moved away right out of college.” He gave a soft laugh. “Like most hotheaded teens growing up in a small town, I couldn’t wait to break out and have some real adventures. A year and a half ago, I moved back for good.”
Hotheaded? If anything, from what she had observed, Blair was the opposite; too controlled. “And did you have your adventures?” she asked with a smile, imagining Blair as a teen; tall, lanky, and youthfully handsome. Broken hearts must have littered the streets of this town when he set out for his grand adventures.
He sobered. A shadow cloaked his eyes and sent a shiver down Toni’s spine. “One too many.”
“What happened?”
He gave a shrug. “Adventure isn’t everything that it’s cracked up to be.”
His tone was too casual. An internal warning bell rang loud and clear. Toni looked toward him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. His neutral expression announced that nothing more would be forthcoming and that hurt. Would he have shared the tale with her if she hadn’t lost her memory, or did she already know about the shadows in his past?
Perhaps she wasn’t the only person whose world had been turned upside down because of her memory loss. Blair was saddled with someone who didn’t know him at a time when he might possibly need so much more.
Toni watched his hands on the steering wheel. Strong. Large. Like the rest of him. She was tall for a woman, but he was taller and broader. He made her feel protected, but she couldn’t help wondering if it was Blair who might need help even more than she did.
One thing was obvious; parts of his past caused him pain. Had she come here to help dispel some of those ghosts and help build a happier future? Together? Was this Christmas to have been the beginning of something fresh and new for both of them; or an ending?
Had the demands of her career come between them? Was this holiday only to have been a bittersweet ending to an impossible relationship? Lovers destined to become friends, was a possibility she didn’t want to accept.
Shrouded in a thoughtful silence, they followed the sinuous road along the coast. Breakers crashed against rocks encrusted with marshmallow ice. Evergreens, sculpted by the prevailing winds, shook, assaulted by gusts of wind. Puffs of snow slid from their boughs. The stark beauty reminded her of Blair and the primitive power emanating from him.
Ten minutes later, they turned off the highway and pulled onto a narrow road lined by tall snow banks and even taller fir trees. He pointed to one side.
“That’s where you skidded into the ditch.”
Other than a dent in the snow bank and a few broken alders, little indicated something life altering had occurred there.
Toni shook her head. “Nothing looks familiar.” At the flicker of disappointment in his expression, she reached over and pressed her hand against the crook of his arm. “I’m sure it won’t be long before everything comes back to me, and we can enjoy the holidays just like we planned.”
His eyebrows arched with surprise, and his gaze dropped to her hand before he smiled back. “You’re right.”
She felt a glimmer of hope. They had been friends before her memory loss, and they could be friends again. Even though she couldn’t remember him or their entwined past, she was still the same person Blair had invited here to spend the holidays.
Within seconds, the road ended in a wide driveway, and they rolled to a stop in front of a large, two-car garage. Toni leaned forward to see past Blair. She strained against her seatbelt, anxious to explore the place he called home.
Evergreens and the bare skeletons of oak and maple trees encircled Blair’s turn of the century, cedar-shingled house. The weathered gray shingles contrasted sharply against the brilliant white of the freshly fallen snow. Tufts of snow, the size of cotton balls, clung to the twisted limbs of the rosebush hedge that hugged the side of his home.
Toni didn’t wait for Blair to help her out of the vehicle. Impatient to have a look around, she started down the narrow path along the side of Blair’s home. The wind bit at her cheeks, and the snow crunched under her boots. She grinned, her spirits lifting.
A covered veranda stretched the length of the front of his home, which overlooked a granite pebble-stone beach that slanted into the frigid Atlantic. Wind driven swells bulging on the steely ocean water rolled to shore, hungrily sliding over the rounded stones covering the beach. The austere beauty of the scene stole her breath and will to move. No wonder they had decided to celebrate Christmas here. It was the perfect setting for a romantic holiday.
“Blair, it’s breathtaking!” she exclaimed, turning her back to the wind and burrowing into the collar of her coat. “I can’t believe that I could forget all this.”
At her side, Blair’s gaze wandered over the shoreline. His eyes were filled with the same awe she had felt only a few seconds before. His eyes shone with his love for this place. It was the first uncensored expression she’d seen in his eyes since she regained consciousness.
“You couldn’t forget it. This is your first visit.”
“What?” It was hard to believe that she hadn’t visited once in the eighteen months since he’d returned here. “Why?”
“You preferred the city.”
“You must have misunderstood.” There was something hauntingly familiar about a cottage overlooking a rocky beach. “I’m sure I spent time at my parents’ cottage and loved it there.” She hated this muddle in her mind. Were the hazy images of laughing children splashing in knee-deep water, and the aroma of meat cooking on a barbeque, real pieces of her past or simply wishful thinking?
“Your parents never owned a cottage.”
“Are you sure? I’m sure I love the water.” Her protest spilled out.
His eyebrows lifted. “I doubt that. You always said you swam like a rock.”
“Maybe I was joking.” Even though she couldn’t remember learning to swim, she knew she could and, in spite of what Blair said, that she enjoyed it. Dr. Madigan mentioned that automatic responses might surface, things so much a part of her that she would react instinctively like a non-smoker automatically refusing a cigarette.
Once again, Toni found herself a victim of Blair’s probing gaze. What was he looking for? What did he expect to find?
The sound of an approaching engine rumbled through the late afternoon quiet and forestalled his reply.
Blair stiffened. “Wait here and stay out of sight,” he commanded quietly, then turned and started back along the path toward his home.
Ignoring his softly spoken command, Toni trailed behind him. Blair tossed an impatient glance over his shoulder. “Stay put until we know who it is.”
Though she appreciated his concern, she resented his overprotective, almost smothering, attitude. “I’m coming with you.”
Blair stopped and turned to face her, blocking her way. “Do you think you’re ready to deal with paparazzi?”
“Not really, but I can’t hide away forever. I have to learn how to deal with them sometime, especially if my memory decides not to return for a while.”
One thick eyebrow lifted eloquently. “Not today, you don’t.”
“Are you always this bossy?” Toni challenged.
“I’m just getting warmed up.”
As their gazes clashed, their frosty breaths curled and tangled in the air between them. Toni saw a struggle between grudging humor and frustration in his smoky gray eyes. Hairline cracks forming in his rigid control brought her a healthy measure of satisfaction. “I should warn you, I’ve just remembered something.”
“What?”
Toni grinned. A mention of the past always managed to capture his full attention. “I’m not nearly as good at taking orders as you seem to be at giving them.”
Blair gave a reluctant half laugh. “I liked you better when you were unconscious.”
“Liar,” Toni accused with a soft laugh as a navy minivan slid into the spot beside Blair’s SUV.
“Damn,” Blair muttered as he stepped in front of her, blocking her view.
His muttering unsettled her more than she cared to admit. Perhaps she had been wrong to underestimate the invasiveness of the paparazzi and should have listened to Blair. Had her so-called ‘glamorous life’ become a constant game of hide and seek?
Toni rose to her tiptoes and peeked over Blair’s shoulder to watch a petite woman bundled up in a deep green, down-filled jacket step down from the vehicle. Riotous auburn curls bounced as she strode purposefully toward them. A streak of blue, a child of about four in a bulky snowsuit, rounded the front of the vehicle, running as fast as his little legs would carry him. He threw himself against Blair and wrapped his short arms around Blair’s jean clad leg.
“Hi, Unca Blair”
Blair reached down and pulled the little boy in a blue snowsuit into his arms. “Hey, big guy.”
The child hugged Blair, and Toni felt warmth that started in her chest spread through her body in spite of the frigid temperatures. She wasn’t surprised that Blair was good with children. They had built-in radar for a genuinely caring adult.
“Blair Clayton Kierstead! Where in heaven’s name have you been? You get home after six weeks of tramping through some jungle, snapping pictures of who knows what, and immediately drop out of sight. It’s been almost two days, and you haven’t returned one of my calls. I’ve been worried sick about you.”
With her auburn hair and smoky gray eyes so like Blair’s, this vibrant and vocal woman had to be his sister. Unlike Blair, his sibling wasn’t backward in saying exactly what was on her mind. Toni grinned, content to watch the mini drama unfold. His sister wasn’t the least bit intimated by Blair’s formidable scowl. Normally, he seemed perfectly able to take care of himself, and yet Toni wondered if he’d met his match in his sister and if he lost as many skirmishes as he won.
“Hello to you too, Lissa,” he returned wryly. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls but something came up.”
“Something came up?” She planted her fisted hands where her hips would have been under her bulky winter jacket. “What kind of an answer is that?”
His sister leaned to one side to peek around Blair. The furrow between her eyebrows disappeared as realization flashed in her eyes. “I’m beginning to understand why you were so preoccupied.” A knowing grin tugged up the corners of her mouth. “But you’re not off the hook. You still should have called.”
“Lissa, not now,” he warned.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
He stepped to one side. “Toni, this is my sister, Lissa Manning, and this bundle of energy is my nephew, Jason.”
Her gaze riveted on Toni. “Have we met somewhere before?” Her eyes flew open wide with recognition. “Good grief! You’re Toni Greer or her identical twin.”
“In the flesh, so Blair tells me.” Toni stepped around Blair and took Lissa’s gloved hand in her mittened one. This was her first taste of notoriety. She couldn’t decide if she liked it or not, but she liked Blair’s sister.
“So Blair tells you?” Lissa echoed.
At the questioning glance from his sister, Blair supplied the details of the accident and the resulting amnesia. When a chilling gust of north wind tugged at their clothes, Blair gave a nod toward his home and said, “Let’s take this inside.”
Despite his initial display of annoyance with his sister’s unexpected arrival, it was plain to see there was a strong bond of affection between them. Toni battled a pang of envy. According to Blair, she was the only child of older parents who had passed away ten years ago. If not for Blair and Drew, her time in the hospital would have been very lonely indeed.
Toni followed Blair and his sister into his home. As soon as their jackets were hung up in the closet and their boots lined up on a braided mat, Lissa turned to her brother. “Blair! How could you keep this a secret! Why didn’t you tell us Toni Greer was going to be here for Christmas?”
“Because we were trying to keep her visit under wraps.”
Toni could see hurt in his sister’s eyes.
“You could have told me. We’re family.”
“Lissa...”
His lips parted as if he were teetering on the fence of divided loyalties. Feeling the need to rescue her protector, Toni looped her arm through Blair’s.
“Please don’t blame your brother. From what I’ve learned, I’m no doubt to blame for the secrecy. I probably asked him not to tell anyone.”
Blair’s head whipped around and those unfathomable eyes searched hers. Once again, Toni had the feeling she’d surprised him.
“I guess all the media attention has made me a bit paranoid,” she added.
“It can’t be any fun when you spend most of your life ducking reporters.” Compassion and understanding warmed Lissa’s gray eyes. “Come on; let’s make some hot chocolate while the men,” she winked at her son who shot back a broad grin, “build us a nice fire.”
Jason slipped his hand in Blair’s and tugged. Blair turned and went with him, but there was hesitation in his step and a line of frustration carved across his forehead. Why was he so reluctant to leave her?
Toni followed Lissa out of the foyer and through the living room. The wood walls were the color of liquid honey. A brown leather couch and sofa faced a beautiful fieldstone fireplace. The Spartan nature of the room surprised her, and not a Christmas decoration in sight. He’d probably waited for her to come so they could decorate together. She was glad that he had. It would keep her busy until her memories decided to come out of hiding.
Toni paused in the doorway of the kitchen, turned back and watched as Blair knelt beside his nephew, his head inclined toward the little boy as he listened to him.
No shadows lurked in Blair’s eyes. His affection for Jason was stamped in every tender gesture. She couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to cause Blair to erect such a thick, protective shell. Suddenly she found herself yearning to learn about his past as much as she wanted to retrieve her own.

Finishing the Game

Finishing the Game
https://amzn.to/2L5JjAd
M.K. Smith
Prologue

Beth stepped off the stretching mat and took a long sip from her water bottle, humming along to Pink’s new release streaming from her i-Pod. She loved how her favorite artist wrote and sang exactly what was on her mind. They used to be similar to a degree, although she’d found herself more reserved over the past few years. First, it was because her ex-fiancé thought she was too outspoken, and now she needed to be more professional for her new job.
She took the pale blue towel draped around her neck under her ponytail and wiped her brow with it, when she spotted the new guy by the free weights. She took out her ear buds and watched him for a moment. He was tall, nicely built and his black hair was meticulously groomed, like he could be in the military or maybe even a cop. Yet there was dangerousness about him that she knew all too well. He reminded her of her ex, Jack, and that was a mistake she never wanted to repeat.
His gaze stayed glued to her as she approached on her way to the locker room. Heat traveled up her neck to her cheeks and she prayed she wouldn’t stumble and make an ass out of herself. When his dark eyes scanned her body she suddenly felt naked in her spandex. He smiled slowly. “Hey,” he said with an easy grin.
“Hi,” she mustered as she passed. She was too afraid to look back, fearing he’d be watching her ass. When had she become so shy? Before her engagement she would have stopped and started a conversation. Now she was a closed mouth little misfit who was never going to date again if she didn’t learn to just be herself. Frustrated, she rounded the corner to the women’s room when she felt an arm around her waist.
“He is totally into you,” her best friend Chrystal said excitedly. “He watched you the entire time you were on the Elliptical.”
Beth felt herself frown. “I sweat horribly on that machine.”
“Maybe that’s how he likes his women,” Chrystal said as she undid the combination on her lock. “Hot and sweaty,” she said, lifting her brows. Beth rolled her eyes in time to see Chrystal whip her sports bra over her head. Seeing her friend’s perfect breasts, she quickly looked away. “It’s time,” Chrystal said, coming up beside her draped in nothing but a towel.
“It’s time for what?” Beth asked as she untied her sneakers, although she already knew.
“To get out there and start dating again. You’re too young to be sitting around your apartment on the weekends drawing pictures for kids.”
“I don’t know,” Beth said warily as she stepped out of her shorts.
“Bets,” Chrystal said, folding her arms and leaning against the counter. “I know Jack was your fiancé but he was also an asshole. Sure, he had us all fooled, even Charlie. But he was nothing but a smooth talker and basically a total phony. He made you promises he never delivered and then you found out he had a girlfriend on the side for months. He was a loser who never deserved you and now it’s time for you to just forget him and move on.”
“I know.” Beth forced a smile and stepped into a stall to shower. As hard as it was to accept, she knew Chrystal had a point. It had almost been a year since she broke off the engagement, but what her friend didn’t realize was that it was hard to put herself back out there when Jack had made her change her own perception of who she was as a woman by filling her mind with doubt.
It started out innocently enough. First, he complained her work out clothes were too sexy and he didn’t want other men looking at his girl, so she’d reluctantly quit the gym. Then he teased her relentlessly when she gained a few extra pounds by telling her that her butt was getting big. She wanted to find a better job where she could earn bigger tips, but he insisted men only tipped well so they could hit on the waitresses, so she stayed at the greasy diner making barely enough to survive.
It wasn’t until he forbad her to see Charlie, the man she’d been friends with since the third grade, that she realized there was a pattern. Jack had wanted her all to himself and even insisted she stop pursuing the children’s illustrations she worked on insisting they were nothing more than a childish hobby. She was slowly losing sight of who she was as a person because he’d been molding her into his perfect wife.
She’d accomplished a lot since leaving him. She started going to the gym and quickly got back into shape. And she applied the moment the new elite Italian restaurant advertised, was hired immediately and was recently promoted to assistant manager. She even took out her drawings and submitted them for consideration, and recently a publishing company asked to see more of her work.
As hard as it was to admit, she had been too blinded by love to see all of the warning signs. Everything Jack did was out of his own insecurities because he’d been the one unfaithful all along. She knew she had to move on because what he’d done was unforgivable, but shamefully, she still loved him.
She stepped out of the shower, draping one towel around her body and another on her wet hair. “You’re too thin,” she heard Chrystal say from behind her. “Eat a meal now and then at your fancy job.” Beth smiled, knowing she was just teasing her. She’d been a fat little girl and, although she didn’t know Chrystal back then, she and her friend Charlie joked openly about it.
She blew dry her hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. When she took off her towel she covered her breasts with her arm and hand as she grabbed a pair of panties.
Chrystal closed her locker and looked at her pointedly. “You used to be so happy with your body and the work you did here to get into shape. Jack really did a number on you.”
“What are you talking about?” Beth asked as she covered herself with a plain white bra.
Chrystal pulled up her leopard print underwear. “He made you insecure about yourself when you used to be proud of your measurements. He’s the one who made you believe your breasts were too small and your tiny ass was wide. You know he only did that so you’d think other men didn’t find you desirable. It’s called emotional abuse. I saw it on one of those talk shows.”
“Please don’t start. I made a terrible mistake and I could be married to him right now but I’m not. I have too much self-respect to turn a blind eye on a cheater. I was in love with him and, who knows, maybe I still am. But I also learned a valuable lesson. Love doesn’t heal everything. I know that now. So can we just drop it?”
“Okay, but you know I’m only telling you this because I care about you.” Chrystal said, watching as Beth sat on the bench and slipped into her comfortable black work shoes. “Has there been anyone you’ve been interested in?” Chrystal asked pulling a pink t-shirt over her head.
“No, not really,” Beth said, knowing her friend was going to be relentless about this subject until she heard an answer she liked. Chrystal pulled on her jeans and zipped before she sat, and picked up her Skechers to slide on her bare feet. “You’ve got to miss sex,” she said as she laced them. “Maybe you should just go out with one of those athletes who come into the restaurant flirting with you, and let him bone you for a night.”
Beth laughed as she reached into her purse for pink lip gloss. Of course she missed sex. That was one of the only things Jack hadn’t disappointed her with. But she couldn’t just sleep with a guy she didn’t care about. That wasn’t who she was.
“The guys who dine at the restaurant are millionaires and prime athletes who play for teams like the Sabers and the Buffalo Bills. They’d never be interested in someone like me. I’m a glorified waitress and my only hobby is drawing children’s illustrations that I don’t even get paid for yet. They want to date women who look like models with big boobs who don’t eat anything when they’re secretly starving.”
Chrystal laughed as she stood and checked her reflection in the mirror, before looking over at Beth. “I think you’re right about all of that. At least you’re finally talking like the old you and not the person that Jack tried to mold you into.” Chrystal placed her hands on Beth’s shoulders. “I’m just saying, not every guy you meet is going to be a keeper. Just go out a few times and have fun. Eventually Mr. Right will come along.”
Beth shook her head and shouldered her purse. “I don’t even know if I believe in such a thing. Maybe everyone doesn’t have a soul mate.”
“Sure they do. I believe sometimes you have to wait your entire life before you find him. But he’s there,” Chrystal assured her as she picked up her Guess handbag.
“If you have to wait your entire life, what’s the point,” Beth said sarcastically.
“When a man loves you unconditionally, he’ll accept everything about you. And I believe that’s worth the wait.”
Beth knew Chrystal was a dreamer, but not everyone went through life unscathed like her. She was going to school and still living at home supported by her parents. Unfortunately, Beth was forced into being a realist. When she lost her father five years ago, college was no longer an option, because she had to help her mom pay the bills. When she lost her too, last year, she was forced to support herself. When she met Jack he promised he’d take care of her and she’d foolishly believed him, but now she knew the only one she could ever count on would be herself.
The only good to come out of it was that she’d been able to save some of her pay checks and, when the time came she had enough to put a deposit down on an apartment and start a financing plan for furniture. And maybe her friend was right; maybe someday that special guy would walk into her life. But for now she didn’t have the luxury of being a romantic.
She exchanged looks with the stranger once more before pushing through the door and into the cool night air. “That man seriously wants to do you,” Chrystal said close to her ear. “Start a conversation with him next time you’re here.”
“If that’s all he wants, then I’m not interested,” Beth said as they crossed the street. She often wondered how they were such good friends when they had virtually nothing in common. But despite their differences, Chrystal was like the sister she never had, and she could confide in her about anything and knew she’d never repeat it. And that was what friendship was all about.
“Where did you park?” Beth asked, clutching her keys.
“I got the last spot across from the drugstore.”
“I had to park in the alley. I’ll be happy when they’re done paving.”
“You should have someone walk you.”
Beth glanced at the dark, narrow side street and blew it off with a wave. “My car’s right there. Call me later and tell me about your date.”
Chrystal turned and started walking backwards. “Are you sure you want to know about it? Because I think tonight’s the night.” Beth shook her head as she turned the corner. “I’ll call you with all the details,” she heard her friend yell.
Beth’s eyes searched through the darkness, making herself aware of her surroundings. The alley hadn’t seemed that bad when she parked at dusk but now it appeared eerie. She passed a large brown dumpster and a cat pounced in front of it, making her jump. She cursed under her breath and picked up the pace. When she heard a noise, she turned back quickly, catching her breath. Scanning the area, all she saw was locked back doors and a few vacant cars.
She turned around and tightened the grip on her purse as she hit a button on her key fob. Although her car was yards away her lights immediately illuminated the dark street. Relieved, she reached for the door handle. Something covered her mouth and filled her nostrils with the scent of leather. She was jerked backward into a hard body and she clawed at the hand that muffled her screams. It tightened the precise moment she saw the knife close to her throat. She kept pulling as she concentrated on the serrated blade.
“Let’s play a game,” the man’s raspy voice cooed playfully into her ear. “Don’t make a sound and I won’t hurt you.” She yelled into his palm as her hair fell out of its elastic band. She felt a pinch and the immediate rush of pain. She screamed again into the glove, feeling the warm wet ooze traveling down her throat and gathering around her collar bones and into her blouse. Then she saw the blade and the deep red that dripped silently from its edges.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked close to her ear as a wooly material scratched her face. He turned her, leaning her back against the car and she forced her gaze on him. A dark mask covered his head and she could see only pale blue eyes through the cut out holes. He read her thoughts and reached for her mouth the moment she opened it to scream.
“Wait!” He hesitated as she sucked air into her lungs, needing to buy time. “Please don’t hurt me again,” she said, forcing a smile. “I promise I’ll do whatever you want.”
His eyes narrowed as he pressed into her mouth and the metal sunk into her neck and slit to the back of her hair. She felt the scream deep inside her, yet only breath escaped. “Look at me!” His escalating voice echoed through the stale air around her. When she felt a sharp edge she forced her saturated lids to open. “I warned you not to make a sound!”
“I’m sorry,” she heard from a mouth that was conceding without her consent. But, through the blurriness, she saw she’d pleased him. Ignoring the pain, her eyes searched past him as his weight pushed against her. There was nothing beyond them; no one seeing what was happening, or who’d hear if she dared to scream. He reached under her skirt when she felt the metal penetrate her throbbing neck again. Her knees buckled but his thigh sabotaged her fall.
She reached back for the cool steel that supported her, closing her eyes. Desperation let her hang on when she felt the scraping sound of metal. Opening her eyes just as he touched the inside of her thigh she clutched the keys together in her hand so they didn’t jingle. Blinking back tears she felt the pink container clipped to the chain. Her thumb slid over the lever like she’d practiced a hundred times.
He leaned back to look in her eyes when his hand moved to her panties. Holding her breath, she raised her hand, pointed and sprayed. He screamed and the knife clanged against the pavement when he covered his eyes. She ducked from under his arm, pushed off the side of the car as her feet began pounding against the blacktop.
The cool air burned her lungs as she advanced toward the lights. She dared a glance back, fearing he’d be at her heels. Seeing nothing but blackness she stumbled, the palms of her hands scraping along the gravel. She picked herself up and forced her aching feet to safety. She rounded the bright corner placing a hand against the cool brick wall.
“Help me!” she called even as her body doubled over. “Somebody help me!” She looked up at the faces that had stopped to stare as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. “Please, help me,” she sobbed as her bare knees dropped to the concrete. She looked down at the dipping blood, sobbing harder.
A hand covered her shoulder and she jerked back, hitting and clawing at it. “Leave me alone!” Another hand grabbed her arm. “Stop touching me, you bastard!”
Her hands swooshed together. “I’m trying to help you,” a voice said sternly. She looked up through blurred vision and into kind brown eyes. “Come with me.” He pulled her to her feet when the strength of her legs gave way. She was whisked into the air and she hung on, putting complete faith in a perfect stranger.
She was assaulted by lights and she closed her eyes. She felt a warm cloth against her neck and felt the pain for the first time since she’d fled. She opened her eyes, looking at all of the horrified faces that stood by, gaping at her in shock. The man’s muffled voice soothed her as he spoke harshly into the phone. She grasped his hand and, when she felt him squeeze, she let her lids close and she surrendered to the darkness.
***
“That bitch!” Rich splashed more water into his burning eyes, inspecting them. Then he looked past his reflection and pictured her walking carelessly in the alley on her way to the gym. She was pure perfection and he couldn’t understand why she didn’t see that. And he wondered what went through her head, thinking she needed to change things about her appearance when she was flawless naturally.
Then he saw her in the dark. Her blonde hair had spilled down around her face and the ends were soaked in her blood. He would have only cut her once before taking what he needed but she spoke, and what she said had infuriated him. She couldn’t give him what he wanted because consent wasn’t what he craved. None of the others had fought back that hard, in fact they usually gave in quickly. So as angry as he was, he had to admire her tenacity.
His face came back into focus and he downed some aspirin with his beer. She’d seen him. Unlike the others, she’d looked him right in the eyes and he knew she’d remember him. Sure, he’d been disguised, but something about her said she’d turn him in without hesitation if she thought she recognized him. He hadn’t gotten away with the game this long by leaving loose ends, and he wasn’t about to start being careless now.
He looked down at his trembling hands; the same ones that had held her warm body against his tonight. He felt unfulfilled and he knew the feeling would haunt his soul until he had her there again. When she took her last breath, and her skin turned cold when the blood stopped pumping through her veins, he’d be satisfied, and only then would he be free until the urgent demon gnawed at him again.
“I’m coming for you,” he whispered into the mirror as he grinned evilly, “because we need to finish the game.”
***
When her eyes opened, she was in a dimly lit room with a soft beeping noise coming from beside her. Looking over, she saw a needle embedded in her hand attached to a tube that ran upward to a bag filled with clear liquid. She wet her dried lips as she took in an antiseptic smell. She felt fuzzy and incoherent. She kept her eyes closed, but then she saw the man’s masked face and heard his raspy voice. Her lids flew open and she forced herself to focus as she looked around and she realized she was in a hospital room.
Hanging on to the metal rail, she tried to sit and an overwhelming feeling of nausea held her back. She leaned her head over the side of the bed for a moment. When the feeling subsided, she lay back, clinging to the sheet with both hands. She hated hospitals. They reminded her of both nights when she’d lost her parents. Each time Grandma Nelly was there to comfort her, but tonight she was all alone.
She breathed in deeply, and something stretched on her neck. She reached up and felt the large bandage. She narrowed her eyes, feeling bumps underneath the dressing. “It’s the sutures.” Startled, she looked over and saw a young nurse with brown hair. When she neared she was able to see her blue and pink splashed smock and pale blue pants. The nurse lifted Beth’s wrist and checked her pulse as Beth tried to piece together what had happened.
She closed her lids and saw his lifeless eyes and then the blade. She immediately reached up to her bandage as she tried to wet her lips. The nurse poured a glass of water then placed it on the metal tray she pushed closer to the bed. “Thank you,” Beth said, sipping. The cool liquid quenched her parched mouth. She sipped again. “What did you give me? I don’t feel anything.”
“That’s good,” the nurse answered. “We obtained your medical history from your appendectomy last year, so we were able to medicate you during the procedure in case you woke up. We will send a prescription home with you for the pain.”
“I can go home?”
“Not tonight, you―”
“Please,” she begged grabbing her arm. “Both times I was in a hospital I lost a parent. I don’t want to stay here.”
“It’s just for the night. You lost a great deal of blood and the doctor would like you here as a precaution.”
Beth lay back, disappointed, when she felt the bed slowly rise. “There are some police officers here to talk to you about what happened. I could hold them off for a while, but if you speak to them now then you can rest.”
“Can you call my friend?”
“Of course,” the nurse said, taking her cell from her pocket.
“His name is Charlie,” she told her, rattling off his number. “And please don’t worry him. You can tell him I’m here and I was hurt but please don’t tell him anything else.”
“Alright,” the nurse said, patting Beth’s arm, “but visiting hours are over.” Beth felt tears sting her eyes and her bottom lip quiver. “But I think we can make an exception for tonight.” She took a few steps.
“Will I be scarred?”
“The nurse walked back to the bed and held Beth’s hand. “Yes, they will be very noticeable at first, but the color will lighten over time.” Beth dropped her hand and looked away, wiping a falling tear off her cheek. “I read those colored scarves you tie around your neck are all the rage this year,” the nurse said bringing her attention back. She reached into her pocket and unfolded a glossy page from a magazine.
When Beth didn’t take it, the nurse patted her hand and placed it on the table next to her glass. As she walked away, Beth felt tears seep from the corners of her eyes as she glanced at the picture of two models wearing colorful scarves. Knowing the woman had cut it out for her warmed her heart for a brief moment, before the reality of her attack set in.
Why would he hurt me like this? She hadn’t known him and she’d done nothing bad to deserve to be part of such a heinous act. Since her break up, all she did was work, go to the gym and draw. She’d secluded herself while she healed from her broken heart. And finally when things were looking up―
“Ms. Winters?” She opened her eyes and saw two men in suits accompanied by a uniformed police officer. “My name is Detective Fitzpatrick and this is my partner, Detective Daniels. We’d like to ask you some questions.” She looked him over from his short blond hair down to his nice suit with a badge attached to his lapel. He took out a notebook and stood close to the bed.
She reached for her glass and he grabbed it and handed it to her. As she sipped, she saw the cop eyeing her bandage, and she instinctively covered it with her hand. “He wore a mask; one where I could see only his eyes. They were an eerie shade of blue, almost too pale.” She sipped again and placed the glass down slowly, feeling more articulate. “He was tall; maybe five ten or eleven, and thin but not scrawny, just in good shape.” She closed her eyes.
“Did he say anything to you?”
Let’s play a game, echoed in her head even as she shook her head ‘no’. “Just if I didn’t say anything he wouldn’t hurt me. But he cut me anyway.”
“Can you tell me about the knife he used? Did you get a good look at it; do you know what color handle it had?”
“It was a hunting knife,” she said, meeting his eyes. “One like my grandmother used to gut her fish. It was jagged,” she said, seeing her blood drip from the blade. “I never saw the handle. That isn’t exactly what frightened me.”
He stared at her a moment, then wrote something down. “You are sure it was a hunting knife?”
“I’m positive. My grandmother lives in the mountains where she hunts and fishes for food. When I used to visit her, she’d let me watch while she cleaned whatever she caught.” She eyed him when he looked back to his partner. “Why, is that important?”
“It sounds like the same weapon that was used in another case we’ve been working on.”
“Did he have any marks that were distinctive, like a tattoo?” she heard Daniels ask, but she was remembering something more significant.
“He reached under my skirt.” She looked up at them as she pictured him holding her against the car. “That’s why he wanted me to be quiet. I’d almost given up because I felt so weak. But when he reached for me there I remembered I had the pepper spray.” Her eyes moved frantically, imagining that horrifying moment. “He dropped the knife. He covered his eyes and dropped the knife.”
“We searched the alley thoroughly. That’s how we found your purse, but we didn’t find a knife.” She looked up at Fitzpatrick when he spoke then sighed, defeated. “Is there anything else that you can remember?”
She shook her head. “I was walking; he grabbed me and started cutting me. Why would anyone want to do that?” She looked from Fitzpatrick to Daniels. “He was going to rape me, wasn’t he?”
“That’s our theory. There have been a few victims that were cut just like you were. Unfortunately, they weren’t as lucky.”
She squinted. “Lucky?”
“You’re alive,” Daniels told her harshly. “The others didn’t get away. You are the only one to survive.”
She scowled at him and Fitzpatrick cleared his throat. “Would you be willing to sit down with a sketch artist?”
“Why? I already told you he wore a mask and gloves. His clothes were dark and I only saw his eyes. I could draw that for you here, if you’d like. Give me a piece of paper from your notebook,” she said pointing to it.
The door opened and a doctor strode inside. “That’s enough for tonight,” he informed the men as the nurse walked to the other side of the bed and held Beth’s hand. “She is supposed to be resting and you’re upsetting her.” He indicated the machine where her vitals had risen since they’d been in the room.
“We have just a few more questions.”
“Not tonight, she needs her rest.”
“Excuse me,” she heard Charlie say, and the detectives both stepped aside to let him pass. He rushed over to the bed, sat and wrapped his arms around her. Any ounce of control she’d been hanging on to vanished as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest. “I’ve got you, Bets,” he soothed as he held her tight. “She has nothing more to say,” she heard him say sternly.
Fitzpatrick closed his notebook and signaled with his chin toward the door. Daniels followed him out and they watched the uniform stroll up to the good looking nurse at the reception desk.
Daniels perched his hands on his hips. “What was her problem? Does she want us to catch the guy or not?”
Fitzpatrick looked at his inexperienced partner and forced a smile. “She was just attacked, and is probably still in shock. I’m sure she knows more and she doesn’t want to repeat it, because if it’s buried it can’t hurt her anymore. You saw her; she’s fragile and knows she’s going to have some pretty horrific scars. We need to give her some time to let the anger settle in.”
Daniels shook his head without understanding, and Fitzpatrick slapped the back of it; hard. Daniels’ head snapped up and he glared at him, eyes dark and fuming. Fitzpatrick laughed. “You’re pissed because I just got away with that, and you know there isn’t a God damned thing you can do about it if you want to keep your job. Imagine how she feels,” he said, motioning his head towards the hospital room. “She went to the gym to work out and gets brutally attacked. And why?”
Daniels rubbed his head. “We don’t know, and that’s the problem.”
“Exactly. But now we have our first and only witness. Once reality sets in she’s gonna be pissed as hell, and that’s when we talk to her. No detail will be too small, because that’s when she’ll want us to find him. So be patient; a few days isn’t going to take away those awful scars. They’ll just make them hurt more, and that pain will give us knowledge.”
Daniels and walked over to join the uniformed cop as Fitzpatrick shoved his hands into his pockets. He couldn’t let his partner know how disappointed he’d been, because that wasn’t going to change a thing. Elizabeth Winters had no idea she’d most likely been attacked by the same serial killer who’d already claimed three lives. Sure she had scars, but they weren’t covering her dead body like the others. No, she’d been stronger than that.
He just hoped he could tap into that strength and get at least one detail that would bring him closer to getting this guy off the street for good, because he had three corpses over the last eighteen months, and not one shred of evidence to link the victims together. Maybe the only one lucky enough to get away would be able to enlighten him and give him the break this case needed.
Chapter One

The first few days Beth stayed with Charlie, but eventually knew she had to return to work, and she was thankful to move on with her life and not be constantly coddled by her friends. But on her first night back at the restaurant she was amazed by how many people inquired what had happened to her, and by the end of her shift she felt as if she should be charging folks to gawk at her as if she was on display in Ripley’s ‘Believe It Or Not’.
“People are curious by nature,” Chrystal said, opening the door to Macy’s the following day.
“It’s one thing to look, and being curious is understandable, but for a complete stranger to ask what happened to me is just rude.”
“I know,” Chrystal said, wrapping a supportive arm around Beth’s shoulder, “but you’re a big shot there. It’s your job to make sure people have a great dining experience, and maybe that makes them feel too comfortable around you.”
“I snapped once toward the end of my shift. I couldn’t help it. A man asked what had happened and I told him a vampire bit me. Then I…” She looked beside her and found Chrystal a few feet back, doubled over laughing hysterically. “What?”
“Bets, you are finally you again. That sarcastic little spitfire I fell in love with the day you told me to get my fat ass off the machine you were waiting for at the gym.”
“In my defense, you weren’t even using it; you were flirting with the guy next to you.”
“But you were bold enough to speak your mind and I’ve always loved that about you. Now, let’s get you some scarves before you lose your job.”
Beth smiled at the memory and now owned one in every color they could find that day, and it had become her signature at work. She drew her attention back to her reflection and to the raised, coarse skin on her neck. She instinctively rubbed the scars although the pain had now subsided and, thanks to the hypnotist Charlie had recommended, the awful memories were gone as well. At first her attacker’s evil eyes and voice made her jumpy during the day and sleepless at night. Now, although she knew what had happened, she couldn’t envision or relive it like she had countless times before.
Deciding not to cover her neck, she walked into the dining room to get ready for her company. She opened up the package of paper plates and matching napkins she’d bought and placed them on the table. She fluffed the ruffled throw pillows on her beige sofa and then checked the time. Knowing her friends would arrive soon, she called to order a pizza then counted out cash for the amount, plus a tip. When she placed it on the side table the bell sounded, startling her.
She took in a deep breath and walked toward the door, peeking out the window before she opened it. “Hi,” Charlie said, kissing her cheek.
“Hi,” Chrystal said as she passed.
Tim, Charlie’s friend followed her. “Hi, Beth, how are you?” he asked as she watched his eyes inadvertently fall on her scars.
“I’m great,” she said, closing the door. “I ordered the pizza because I knew they’d be busy tonight,” she told them as Charlie and Chrystal sat on opposite sides of the sofa while Tim looked around. “What can I get you to drink?”
She took their orders and then looked at Tim. “I’ll help you.” She cringed when he followed her into the kitchen. He hadn’t kept his crush on her a secret; instead he’d flirted openly with her since she met him a few weeks before her attack. Although he was attractive, he was also Charlie’s friend, which meant he was off limits.
“I’ll take a soda,” he said when she opened the fridge. She handed him one and took out two more, closing the door with her hip. She stilled when Tim pulled back her hair. “The doctor did nice work. The scars should heal nicely.” Forcing a smile, she put her hair back to cover them. She supposed coming from a med student that should give her comfort, but she hadn’t even gotten used to seeing them every time she looked in the mirror.
“Have you thought about talking to someone?”
“About what happened?” she asked as she reached into a cupboard for a bag of chips and a bowl. She stacked the bag and sodas inside the dish.
“Yeah,” he said, pulling back the tab of his can and sipping. “It sometimes helps if you tell someone about what happened and how you feel about it now. You may have aggression built up you aren’t even aware of.” He shrugged. “Let me get some numbers for you and I’ll pass them along to Charlie,” he said with a wink.
She looked down at the bowl, knowing he had a point and realizing how sweet it was for him to have thought of her. “Thank you, I―” She looked up and he was gone without drawing her into a lengthy conversation like usual. She felt a pang in her chest. She knew she should be relieved, but she wasn’t. She realized he no longer liked her and had to accept it had everything to do with her neck. She swallowed hard over the throbbing lump in her throat.
She knew she had to live with what had happened, and she’d learned to accept that, but she was finally at a good place in her life where she wanted to start dating again. And now she knew that her scars would be an obstacle that some men wouldn’t be able to overlook. She just hoped more than ever that Chrystal was right about everyone having a soul mate, because that could very well be the only way she’d ever find happiness.
Half way through the movie the bell sounded, making her jump and she hoped no one noticed. She stood and walked over to the table to pick up the money she’d laid out. She would never confess how truly frightened she still was to be home alone after dark and that she did everything in her power to leave the house at night only for work. She always had someone walk her to her car in the parking lot and thankfully her driveway was just a few feet from her apartment door.
She wondered when that initial feeling of fear would finally subside, because she couldn’t imagine going through her entire life afraid to do the simplest tasks alone; thinking there might be a random person waiting to harm her. When she talked to Detective Fitzpatrick a few days after she left the hospital, he’d sensed her apprehension and had rattled off some statistics of the odds she’d ever be hurt again. Although that did make her feel more at ease, she couldn’t help not thinking rationally.
Hearing her approach, Rich’s heart raced with anticipation. As soon as the door opened and she came into view, he stared into her bright blue eyes with joy, satisfaction and a simmering rage. She had no idea what he’d been going through the past few weeks while he found out where she lived. Coming to her home had been his last choice, but she was guarded at work and understandably hadn’t been going to the gym.
When she squinted from the bright sunset behind him he smiled. “Hi,” she said cheerfully as he took in the sight of her.
“Hello, Beth.”
She raised her hand to her brow, trying to make out his face and he wondered if she’d know it was him. “Do I know you?”
He chuckled low. “Your name is on the ticket. I’ve delivered here before, and when I saw the address I volunteered to do the run.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down at the money in her hand as her cheeks turned pink.
He leaned casually into the door jamb. “If you don’t remember me it would just break my heart. I thought I left a lasting impression.”
She laughed, and now that he was in view he watched her eyes search his face for recognition. But she’d only seen his eyes, and today he’d covered them with dark sunglasses. His eyes slid to her neck and the coarse scars that covered the cuts he’d made. As if she sensed it, she reached up and placed her hand over them.
“Don’t cover them,” he ordered sternly, surprised by how quickly she complied. And that was the precise moment he’d been waiting for. Her eyes opened wide as her hand froze, suspended mid-air, and he was certain she had a feeling of déjà vu. He smiled again slowly. He wanted her to remember him before he forced his way inside. He needed to see the fear as he had the night in the alley; only tenfold. “It’s part of who you are now, Beth.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she said, not taking sight off his lenses, “but I don’t think you’ve delivered here before; that I’d remember.”
He chuckled. “You are perceptive, Beth.”
Her vivid blue eyes narrowed. “Tell me your name, maybe then I can place you.”
“Invite me in and I’ll tell you,” he teased. She laughed and it shot right through him.
“Sorry, but my mama told me not to talk to strangers.”
“Your mother was a smart woman,” he said, handing her the box and reaching for the back of his jeans where his knife was hidden.
“What’s the hold up?” He looked up at the tall man with wavy black hair; then he heard laughter and he looked beyond him to the others in the living room. When the man nodded, he reciprocated even as he cursed under his breath. In his haste to find her again he hadn’t considered she might not be alone, and he was happy he’d thought twice about simply pushing his way inside.
He turned and quickly started to walk away. None of his women had ever gotten away before, and Beth’s strength was making him weak. He wasn’t thinking clearly and was making careless mistakes that could get him caught. His hands started trembling again. To be that close and not be able to finish the game made his body ache with disappointment.
“Wait,” he heard her call out and he turned. She came down the walk and held out her hand. “You forgot your money.”
Taking it, he grasped her palm, enjoying how she tensed. “There’s a game on this weekend that I think you’ll enjoy, Beth.”
“What?” She asked curiously with a scrunched brow.
“I’ll see you soon.”
When he took his hand back, she felt his touch linger as she turned and walked back to her house. He was so familiar, yet she couldn’t recognize him. And did he really think she’d let him into her home when he was a complete stranger? Or was he? He had been too at ease around her, as if he knew everything about her. In fact, he hadn’t even hesitated to talk openly about her scars.
Her chest felt that pang of déjà vu again. It was as if they’d been that close once before, talking, but she had no idea when or where. Dismissing it, she chose only to remember how he’d flirted with her despite her awful scars. Thinking maybe it was possible for a man to like her even though she’d been maimed gave her a feeling of assurance she’d so desperately been searching for.
She turned back when she reached the door to get another glimpse of him. Her eyes searched the quiet street, and there was no sign of him or the car he’d driven. As she closed the door her smile lingered. Maybe he delivered pizza as a second job, like Tim had to take to pay for school. Not that there was anything wrong with the job; he just looked too refined for minimum wage to be his only income.
“Were you flirting with the pizza guy?” Charlie asked with a huge grin when she walked into the dining room.
“No, but I think he was flirting with me. I know him from somewhere. He said he delivered here before but I’d remember that.”
“When I told you to go out and have fun I didn’t mean with a delivery boy,” Chrystal said, laughing, as she took a slice of pizza from the box. Charlie and Tim laughed as Beth felt heat travel up her neck.
“I wasn’t flirting with him. Like I said, I knew him. Maybe he’s come into the restaurant,” she said, grabbing a slice of pizza. The cheese stretched across the table until she broke it off with her finger then licked it. “He didn’t ask about my scars, so we must have already had that conversation. That seems to be the only logical explanation.” When she looked around she saw everyone had turned quiet and she gave Charlie an impatient look.
He cleared his throat. “Tim and I were talking about renting a cabin in the Adirondack Mountains this fall, if you want to join us. Doesn’t your grandmother live there?” Charlie asked.
Her eyes lit up. “Yes, and I haven’t seen Nelly since mom’s funeral.”
“I want to go,” Chrystal whined and Charlie grunted.
“If you come, you can’t complain about everything. It won’t be like staying in a hotel,” Charlie informed her, making Tim chuckle.
Chrystal’s mouth gaped open and Beth nudged her. “She’ll be fine. I’ll show her how to get by,” even though she wondered if her friend could survive a week without cable or a signal on her cell phone.
She walked over and kissed Charlie’s cheek unexpectedly, and he leaned back to look at her. He knew her better than anyone, and when he winked she knew when he planned this trip he’d had her in mind all along, and she was thankful to be blessed with such a good friend.

Final Kill

Final Kill
https://amzn.to/2E6mCut
Leslie McKelvey
Chapter One
She remembered the face of the first man she’d ever killed: the rest of them... not so much.
Regulating her breathing, Cat peered through the scope of the .416 rifle as snow fell fitfully, almost as if it didn’t want to reach the ground. The snap of AK fire interspersed with the shouts of the Taliban firing the Russian-made weapons bounced around the ravine below her. She scowled.
Half an hour ago, she’d been sitting in a hidden mountain cave, relatively warm, monitoring two-way radio and cell chatter with a pair of specially designed headphones, using very expensive, top-secret, brand new, state-of-the-art technology. Now, because of what she’d heard she was lying on a ledge in the snow with her rifle, more than a kilometer from her relatively warm cave.
“Do you have them?” she whispered as the crosshairs found one turban-clad head.
“The SEALs are less than half a klick in front of them and losing ground.” Tripp grunted. “What the hell are they doing out here?”
“Dying,” she replied in a solemn voice. “But we’re not going to let that happen, are we?”
Cat listened carefully as Tripp rattled off the firing solution, and she adjusted her scope as he did so. In all, she’d counted seven pursuers, but the only one she was concerned with at that moment was the one in her sights. Cat exhaled completely, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The rifle recoiled, and before the first bullet reached its target she had retracted the bolt, dropped a round in the chamber, and closed the bolt. Less than four seconds and she was honing in on terrorist number two.
“Hit,” Tripp reported.
She squeezed the trigger again, cycled the bolt, found her next target, and fired a third round as Tripp confirmed a hit on the second shot. She cycled the bolt again and paused.
“And number three is down.” Tripp chuckled. “Keep ‘em coming, Tiger.”
It was then the rest of the group realized three of their compatriots were dead. Cat watched the four remaining men scramble for cover as they tried to discern her location. The clap of the .416 echoed off the hills, bouncing back and forth between the walls of the ravine, making it impossible for them to figure out where the deadly shots were coming from. Her fourth shot hit the target in the upper chest, dead center at the base of the neck. His head went spinning through the air like a macabre Frisbee, the blood-spattered turban flapping wildly. After that the extremists went to ground in the thick, mountain brush.
“Nice!” Tripp said. “He really lost his head with that one.”
“Very funny.” Cat scrutinized the distant hillside and smiled grimly when she spotted a turban. She adjusted her aim again, but the turban disappeared. “Does Tonto have them?”
She could hear Tripp breathing as he scanned the gorge below. “Affirmative. He’s leading them up the back way. We’re good.”
“Not yet,” she said. “If any of these guys get back to whatever hole they crawled out of they’ll be right back here, messing my shit up.”
“They’ll be back anyway,” Tripp replied. “Not them, I mean, but more like them.”
“I know,” she agreed, “but eliminating these last three will give me a little more time to pack. I have a lot of expensive equipment to evac.”
“Always thinking ahead.” There was a brief pause. “Maybe you should leave just one so there’s someone to tell the tale.”
“Nah,” she replied with a smirk. “Let ‘em wonder.”
Several minutes passed with no movement, but Cat knew terrorist wasn’t a synonym for dumb. Snow continued to fall and a deathly quiet descended over the ravine. It seemed even the wind had died; not a twig, branch, or bush moved. A shiver traversed her spine, but Cat shook it off and stared through the scope.
“Anything?” she asked in a whisper.
“No... wait, hold on.” He moved his spotting scope a fraction. “Got one.”
He did some quick calculations and then read her the numbers. Cat smiled when she focused in on her fifth extremist. He was half-hidden behind a pine tree, and the only part of him she could get a clean shot at was his right leg. She squeezed the trigger and less than a second later the man’s hip exploded, his leg launching like a missile as the force of the impact spun him around. He landed face-first on the bloody snow and never moved again.
This was enough to send the last two into a panic. They started scurrying back the way they’d come, obviously overwhelmed by their fear. Survival instinct had kicked in, effectively silencing any common sense. Instead of staying hidden, they had decided their only option was to run. She felt a spurt of pity for them then took aim.
Despite the zigzag pattern they ran, she picked them off with relative ease.
“Hit.”
“Not even Superman can outrun a bullet,” Cat said in a low voice. She reloaded and peered through the scope. “Superman can only stop a bullet. Turns out a terrorist can, too... once.” Another squeeze on the trigger.
“And last one is down,” Tripp said shortly after her final shot. “Can we go now?”
“Yep,” she said. She capped her scope, folded the bipod, and quickly gathered her empty casings. After scooting back from the edge, she stood and swung her rifle over her shoulder. “Let’s get back to the cave. We need to finish packing.”
“You realize it won’t matter you saved a SEAL team,” Tripp commented. “The boss is gonna be pissed at you for doing this again.”
“I didn’t do anything,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “This was a team effort, and if it really upsets him that much he should send us stateside.” She glanced at Tripp. “He should know by now we’re not going to sit around and listen to our boys in uniform get killed, especially if we can stop it. After the last two incidents, you’d think he’d have figured that out.”
Tripp grinned. “You’d think.”
“Besides,” she continued, “it’s almost time for us to be out of here anyway. We just advanced the timetable.”
“You really do enjoy getting his jock strap in a twist, don’t you?”
Cat chuckled. “It’s almost as much fun as sniping bad guys and babysitting all of you, Tripp. Almost.”
***
Lieutenant Ryan Heller, US Navy SEAL, followed the stranger dressed in snow-cammies deeper into the tunnel. Digger leaned heavily into Ryan’s side. His other teammates followed behind loaded down with their weapons. Ryan had no idea who the stranger was or how he had materialized out of the snow, but he didn’t really care. All he cared about was getting Digger to a medic.
Gradually he detected noise and light, and his eyes widened when they entered a large cavern packed with computer monitors and illuminated by electric lights. Apparently, the stranger was accustomed to finding electricity and advanced technology in mountain caves because he kept walking. Ryan counted five other people all dressed the same as their quiet counterpart, but they were busy taking apart the computers and packing up the various components. He glanced over his shoulder at Mack, who shrugged in reply and continued on.
On the far side of the cavern was another tunnel. Ryan and his team followed the stranger silently. After about 20 meters the tunnel opened up again with several smaller caverns formed off the main passage. The guy led them to one outfitted with a gurney, an overhead light, and a small cabinet for medical supplies. As Ryan and Mack lay Digger on the bed their rescuer finally spoke.
“Wait here,” he said. “Doc will be with you in a moment.” His message delivered, the stranger turned on his heel and disappeared down the passageway.
Ryan looked at Grady who had dropped the weapons and was examining the supply cabinet. Then Ryan focused on Digger who was barely conscious.
“Great,” he said, “not even a Better Homes & Gardens to flip through.” He shook his head and started to unbutton Digger’s jacket. “What are doctor’s offices coming to these days?”
“Who cares?” Mack said, leaning against the rough stone wall. “I want to know who was manning that rifle. That first shot had to be... what? Fifteen hundred meters?”
“At least,” Ryan replied as he pulled a knife from his belt and sliced through the material of Digger’s clothes. “Whoever the guy was, I plan to buy him a case of beer when we get back to Bagram. There’s a Brit who owes me one for kicking his ass in poker.”
“A case?” Grady repeated. “I was thinking my firstborn would be a good start on payment.” He grabbed a nearby metal chair, spun it around and straddled it. “Don’t like kids much, so it’ll be a win-win.”
“Are they military?” Mack asked.
“I don’t think so,” Ryan replied. “There are no rank or MOS insignias, no unit patches, and no identifying marks on their uniforms aside from last names, and who knows if those are even real.” He scratched his beard. “No, these guys aren’t military.”
“Then what?” Grady asked. “Private security, NSA, CIA?”
“Pick one,” Ryan said. “We have an entire bowl of alphabet soup to choose from.” He heard footsteps coming from the direction of the tunnel. “It’s not important now. Zip it.”
“Sorry to keep you gents waiting.” A man dressed in snow-cammies entered the medical bay and walked up to the gurney. He was young, mid to late twenties Ryan guessed, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and a tall, lanky build. He snapped on a pair of latex gloves then bent over Digger. “I’m Corpsman Tom Massey, but everyone calls me Doc. What have we here?”
“Took one round to the chest,” Ryan replied, watching closely as Doc examined the wound. At least the guy seemed to know what he was doing. After a thorough inspection, the corpsman donned a stethoscope and listened carefully to Digger’s chest. He then checked Digger’s visual acuity and blood pressure. Ryan leaned closer. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
Massey straightened, his expression neither grim nor hopeful. “Well,” he began, “there are decreased breath sounds on the left. The bleeding has stopped, but without an x-ray there’s no way to tell what’s going on inside, and trying to get the bullet out could do more harm than good.” He met Ryan’s gaze briefly then turned his attention back to Digger. “I can keep him stable for a while, and, provided we get him to a surgical unit in the next couple of hours, I think he’ll be okay, but I’m only a corpsman. I’m not equipped for this.”
Ryan nodded. “Good enough for me.” He turned to Grady and Mack. “You guys stay here. I’m going to see if I can find out who’s in charge and get a timetable.”
Ryan strode back down the tunnel and entered the main cavern as two more people walked in from the opposite side. These, too, wore Arctic camouflage, both of their heads wrapped in turbans, their faces covered by scarves. The one in front was about 5’10” with a lean build and Ryan’s brows rose when he saw the .416 rifle over his shoulder. The name stitched on the front of the jacket read Beckett. The guy in back was an inch or so taller than Ryan, roughly 6’4” and powerfully built, but it was obvious the shorter man was in charge. Beckett walked around a table in the center of the room that was draped with a map, presenting Ryan with his back. He pulled the scarf from his face and leaned his hands on the edge of the table.
“Sitrep,” Beckett said.
At least he sounded military. That gave Ryan a small measure of comfort.
An Asian guy with a fancy looking laptop and a headset spun in his chair and rolled over to the table. “There’s definitely been an uptake in chatter,” he said, “and I’ve triangulated their position to... here.” He marked a spot on the map. Ryan edged closer as the man continued. “They probably realize the ambush didn’t go down as planned, and once they decide to send out a recon team it’ll take them less than half an hour to reach the kill zone.”
“Perfect,” Beckett said, his voice laced with sarcasm. He peered at the map. “Once they get there it won’t take them long to locate us, especially if they find the spot Tonto picked up the SEALs. Our Injun didn’t try to cover their tracks so it won’t be hard to follow them.”
“Hey, you said move fast so we moved fast,” said the man who had led them to the caves. “That would preclude hiding our trail, boss.”
“Doesn’t matter anyway,” Beckett said. “It’s still snowing, so that will help.” He straightened, put his hands on his hips and exhaled slowly. “Well, don’t stand there looking at me. Finish packing.” He pointed to a tall, beefy man with the distinctive features and large build of a Pacific Islander. “Techno, forget about loading it all. Get the important stuff: hard drives, scanners, mikes, dishes. You know what is and isn’t necessary. If it’s not important, top-secret, or insanely expensive, leave it.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Burgess.”
A man sitting at a computer monitor turned around to face Beckett. “Yeah, boss.”
“Coordinate with Techno. Make sure we’ve got all the important stuff out, then start wiping hard drives and prepping the rest of the equipment for evac.”
Burgess nodded. “You got it, boss.”
Beckett checked his watch. “Bam-Bam.”
Another man, with sandy brown hair and eyes had a flat, monochromatic appearance, until he looked at Beckett. When the two locked gazes, a predatory gleam entered Bam-Bam’s eyes that made his whole face come to life. Ryan blinked.
“Whatcha need, boss?” Bam-Bam asked. He fidgeted, obviously anxious to be about his master’s bidding.
“It’s not Christmas,” Beckett began, “so the only gift I want those assholes to get when they find these caves is a really, really warm welcome, if you get my drift.” As Bam-Bam scurried off, Beckett leaned on the edge of the table again. “Lee, double check that the cas-evac they were prepping for the SEALs is still on the way. Bagram can consider it requisitioned. Contact base and let them know how much gear we’ve got, how many personnel, and that we have wounded. Be certain they have the right coordinates for the LZ this time so we don’t have to play radio tag in the mountains again.”
The Asian man with the fancy laptop laughed softly and started tapping on the keyboard. “On it.”
Ryan watched as people scurried around. While it was frenetic, there was nothing unorganized or panicked about the evacuation. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do, and they were doing it without having to be told or directly supervised. Impressive.
Beckett and the tall man he’d come in with were conversing quietly, looking at the map. The .416 still hung over Beckett’s shoulder. Ryan watched them for a moment then approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt. As he did, Beckett reached for his turban and pulled it off and Ryan froze. A long, thick, red braid fell down Beckett’s back. His jaw dropped and he stared, but in his periphery he saw Beckett’s companion had noticed him and was tapping Beckett on the shoulder. Ryan managed to close his mouth as Beckett turned to face him.
Ryan found himself looking into the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. They were large, lined with thick lashes, and had a distinctly feline appearance with tipped up outer corners and a vivid, unwavering gaze. His pulse jumped. He saw the surprise there, as if she’d just remembered why she needed a rifle. She smiled and something in his chest melted.
“Lieutenant,” she said. “How is your man?”
It took him a second to find his voice. “Your corpsman thinks he’ll make it to Bagram, ma’am,” he finally replied.
“Then he’ll make it,” Beckett said. “Doc is the best I’ve ever worked with.” She waited a moment. “Is there something you need, food or water maybe? We’re a little busy but I can get you something to eat or drink if you need it.”
“Um, no, ma’am, we’re good,” he ground out. “I wanted to say thanks for saving our asses back there. That was some pretty impressive marksmanship.”
“Yeah,” agreed the taller man whose jacket read Trippler. He had dark hair cut in a high-and-tight and pale blue eyes. “She does okay... for a girl.” He chuckled and looked at Beckett. “Need to get my stuff, darling,” he said, affecting an awful British accent. “You can tend to our guests without me, can you not?”
Beckett looked at him out of the corner of her eye and fought a smile. “Get out.” She turned back to Ryan. “Sorry, Lieutenant. Tripp likes to infuse humor into tense situations. It’s a coping mechanism, and a character flaw.”
“He your spotter, ma’am?” Ryan asked.
She had a generous mouth with full curves, and that mouth widened into a you-have-a-gift-for-stating-the-obvious smile. He noted the gentle features, the slender nose, and the elegant brows. She was stunning which, oddly enough, irritated him. SEALs weren’t supposed to be stunned by anything, or anyone.
“Indeed he is,” she replied. “And stop calling me ma’am. Now, I’d love to chat but we have to get out of here.”
“Can I help?” he asked, a bit too quickly.
Her smile deepened, revealing a set of dimples that transformed her from cover-girl beauty to girl-next-door approachable, an unnerving and fascinating combination. His heart did an uncharacteristic flip but Ryan schooled his features into what he hoped was an impassive mask and waited for a reply. Thankfully, she had pity on him.
“See to your men, LT,” she said. “When we bug out you’re going to have to help your wounded to the helo, but thankfully the terrain isn’t as rough on the other side of the hill from where you met your new and, sadly, deceased friends. Should be a relatively easy trek.” She turned and started to walk away.
“What’s your name?” he asked, again, a little too quickly.
She lifted one brow and glanced down at her name stitched so neatly on the Arctic camouflage.
Ryan frowned. “I can read,” he said. “What’s your name?”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze sharp and probing but still friendly. “Catharine,” she finally replied, “but you can call me Cat.”
“I’m Lieutenant Ryan Heller,” Ryan said, “and you can call me whatever you want, but the guys call me Reaper.”
“We call her Tiger,” Lee said without once looking up from his computer, “but you’re not qualified for that yet, Lieutenant.”
“Nope,” said Techno as he walked by with an armload of what looked like computer hard drives. “She has to like you first.”
“Maybe she does like him,” Bam-Bam commented as he affixed a round, black disc to the wall with a metal spike. There was a circle of red dots blinking on the front of the disc, and Ryan realized it was some type of explosive, a type, oddly enough, he’d never seen before. Bam-Bam continued speaking, his expression fierce as he concentrated on setting another charge. “After all, she was actually polite to this one. The others she hardly even glanced at, and when they questioned her she showed them why we call her Tiger.”
With that everyone went still and silent and turned to stare at him. It would have been comical if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“Get back to work,” Cat snapped. Immediately the noise resumed and she looked at him. “My apologies, Lieutenant. We rarely get guests so the children are quite unsure how to behave.”
Ryan smiled for what felt like the first time in days. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re on our side.” He paused, leaned toward her, and lowered his voice. “You are on our side, right?”
Cat laughed softly and put a hand on his shoulder. “Cut us and we bleed red, white, and blue, LT.” She turned him toward the tunnel. “Now, wait with your men, please. When it’s time to go, I’ll come get you.”
“And how long will that be, ma’am?” he asked with a mischievous grin.
Cat frowned, but when she saw his smile she chuckled and shook her head. The change in expression was dramatic and Ryan had no trouble understanding why they called her Tiger. When she scowled he had almost expected fangs. Her appearance was fierce, primal, and her stare was just as arresting as that of an angry Bengal.
Ryan knew snipers were a solitary lot who associated mostly with other snipers or their spotters. Their line of work required an entirely different skill set than what was needed to be part of a regimental combat unit, and camaraderie wasn’t top of that priority list. Snipers were lone hunters. He was friends with a few of the military marksmen, though not a close friend. Often, they were regarded with a mystical reverence bordering on fear. Her first four shots had taken less than a minute, and while he had no way to know if she’d hit all her targets the fact their pursuit had stopped told him she probably had. But, unlike some snipers he’d met, he didn’t get the hair-raising vibe from her. Nevertheless, he’d just met her. Perhaps a woman sharpshooter had a different disposition from the men he was familiar with. Until he knew her better, he thought it wise to allow himself to feel some of that reverent fear. After all, discretion was the better part of valor and if he pissed her off she could probably kill him from a mile away. Ryan shook himself as that creepy vibe finally registered.
“We’ll be out in less than an hour, Lieutenant,” she replied, breaking his train of thought. “Don’t worry about your comrade, either. Doc will make sure he’s ready to travel. He’s aware of the time constraints.”
Ryan snapped to attention and extended his hand. She looked at it for a moment then wrapped her fingers firmly around his. A faint tingle crept up his arm and he cleared his throat. “I feel like I should salute you or something,” he said, “but since you’re not a military officer, a handshake and my sincere thanks will have to do until we get back to Bagram.”
Cat tipped her head to the side. “And what happens when we get back to Bagram?”
Unexpected heat burst inside him as he pictured what he’d want to happen, but he managed not to say anything. Pushing those mental photos aside he thought about her question for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “Whatever you want,” he said at last. “If it’s within my means it’s yours. You deserve it after what you did for us. We wouldn’t have made it out of that canyon if you weren’t such a crack shot. We owe you our lives.”
He thought he saw a hint of pink creep into her cheeks, but in the half-light of low wattage bulbs it was hard to say for sure. What he did know was she was still holding his hand, and that tingle grew stronger. It was strange, but he found he quite liked it.
“Why don’t you buy me a cup of coffee when we get back to base and we’ll call it even?”
His brows rose. “Really? That’s it? I would have thought dinner at the mess hall would be your first choice, but hey, if coffee’s your thing....” He frowned. “I did say whatever you want, right?” She chuckled and released his hand, much to his disappointment.
“Well,” she began, “if we make it to the helo perhaps I’ll give it some thought on the ride to base.” She met his gaze. “Can I get back to you?”
“Of course, and I have a feeling no matter where I am on base you can find me,” he replied. He gestured toward the rifle. “Just use that scope... finger off the trigger preferably.”
A smile curved her mouth. “Deal.”
“Great.” He turned and started to walk away then looked at her over his shoulder. “Now I’ll go wait with my men. Thanks again... Cate.” He gave her a wink then turned away.
Cat blinked and watched the tall sailor walk confidently down the tunnel, feeling warmth and a strange tingling at the base of her spine. She didn’t like it one bit. His demeanor, his manner, his genuineness was so unlike many Special Forces soldiers she’d met. That particular breed of men possessed a certain type of arrogance that often bordered on narcissism. She recognized it was necessary but she didn’t usually like it. The utter confidence in oneself and one’s abilities exhibited by most SEALs, Green Berets, and the like usually triggered a negative response in her, but not with this one. She remembered the shock of surprise that had registered when she’d met those crystalline blue eyes and the unwelcome jump in her heart rate. Cat crossed her arms over her chest and stared down the tunnel.
He was older than his men, probably mid-thirties, taller and bigger than most SEALs, about as tall and nearly as broad as Tripp. That was roughly four inches taller than her. She knew there was no set standard for the height and weight of SEALs, but shorter, wirier, lighter men usually performed better in the arenas SEAL teams worked in. This meant Lieutenant Heller possessed some impressive physical abilities that allowed him to overcome the disadvantage his size had presented during the qualification process. And while he wasn’t as muscle-bound as Tripp he was muscular in an athletic, beefy way, like Russell Crowe in all his Gladiator glory. His eyes were dark blue, his black hair longer than the typical military cut because of his current location, and even the full beard did nothing to lessen his appeal. Lieutenant Heller was a very attractive man, and it annoyed her that she found herself attracted. This wasn’t the time or the place, and yet she couldn’t remember the last time a man had affected her like he did.
“Admit it, you like him,” Lee said from behind her.
Cat turned a sharp gaze on the man and he immediately returned to what he was doing. With a huff, she set off down one of the side tunnels toward her quarters.
Since she traveled light she didn’t have much to pack, and in less than five minutes she was finished in the small alcove off the secondary tunnel that served as her “bedroom.” Cat hefted her backpack over the shoulder opposite the rifle and walked back toward the main cavern. Everyone was there except Techno, who was no doubt gathering all the top-secret listening equipment from outside. She glanced at her watch and saw 25 minutes had passed since initial contact, but nearly everything was done. Bam-Bam sat on a crate near the entrance tunnel, and she approached him.
“Ready to welcome our guests?” she asked.
Bam-Bam nodded. “All that’s left is to laser-trip the entrance. After everyone else is out I’ll laser-trip the exit tunnel in case anyone makes it through the first car of the welcome wagon.” He pulled a monitor the size of a small cell phone out of his pocket and grinned.
“What’s that?” Cat asked, almost afraid of the answer. Although Bam-Bam was the best at what he did, sometimes his enthusiasm for explosives bordered on the disturbing.
He stroked the smooth, black surface as if it was a lover’s hand. “If I don’t hear the charges, this little baby will tell me when both sets of explosives have been tripped.” He gave her a look that was slightly maniacal. “When that happens....” He reached into his other pocket and pulled out what looked like a dead-man switch. “When that happens, I push this... and the whole top of the mountain explodes. Thanks to me this hill will be a couple hundred feet shorter by close of business today.”
Cat smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “You really like keeping the geologists busy, don’t you?”
He grinned, an expression that would send children scurrying to hide behind their mothers. “It provides job security for them and hours of amusement for me. It’s a symbiotic relationship ensuring a positive outcome for all, like those little fish who eat parasites off sharks.”
Cat stepped back and shook her head. “You worry me, Bam-Bam. You really do.”
Techno strode by with an ammo box in each hand. “You’re up, blast-man.”
“Don’t set the laser until I’ve had a chance to go look out front,” Cat reminded him.
Bam-Bam nodded and his face lit up like a child on Christmas. He rubbed his hands together and disappeared down the tunnel. Cat grabbed Techno’s arm.
“How many boxes do we have?” she asked.
He wiggled dark brows at her. “Well, I worked my magic so one each, boss. Lee will carry two since he doesn’t carry a weapon, and two can be loaded on the stretcher with our injured SEAL. That will free you, Tripp, and the Bam-master up. I already cleared it with Doc.”
“Did you magnetize everything else?” she asked.
“Of course.” He smiled and patted her hand. “You can thank me later.”
“I may just kiss you later,” Cat replied. “Thanks, Tech.”
“Anything for you, Tiger.”
Cat watched him disappear down the exit tunnel then took a deep breath and stood on a crate to address the room. “All right,” she began, “is there anyone who’s not ready to leave?” She scanned the cavern, but the men stood there, silent and resolute. Cat smiled. “Good.” She glanced at Lee. “What’s the ETA on the helo?”
Lee looked at his computer then at her. “Five-zero minutes,” he replied.
Cat glanced at her watch. “It’s less than a klick to the LZ, which means we should get there right before the chopper does.” She paused when Lieutenant Heller, his uninjured men, and Doc entered the room. Her eyes met those of the SEAL and again her pulse did a split-second leap. He and his men looked ready to go, their weapons slung over their shoulders. She took another breath and continued. “Techno has the boxes by the back door so grab what you can carry on your way, minimum of one each.”
Lieutenant Heller stepped forward. “My men and I can help.”
“Doc?” she asked, looking at the corpsman.
“I need one guy to help me with the stretcher,” Doc replied. “Other than that, we’re good and ready to go.”
“Okay,” Cat said with a nod. “Lieutenant, pick someone to help Doc carry your guy, and whoever is left can help with cargo.”
“Roger that,” Heller replied with a small smile.
“All right, people,” she said, clasping her hands behind her back. “You all know the way to the landing zone so move like you have a purpose. Aside from our Navy guests, the most important cargo are those boxes, so I expect all of them to reach the LZ in the same condition you found them. Techno will take point and Tripp, Bam-Bam, and I will bring up the rear. No matter what you hear, gunfire, explosions, Toby Keith singing, do not stop. Get your asses and that equipment to the helo and back to base. Understood?”
“Understood,” was the unified reply.
Cat put her hands on her hips and dropped her chin. “Move out.”
Chapter Two

Ryan stood to the side as people filed past him, moving quickly down the exit tunnel. He looked at Grady. “Go with the Doc,” he said. “Mack and I will hang back and help out.”
Grady nodded. “Yes, sir. See you at the LZ.”
“Be safe.”
“Always,” Grady replied with a grin. “You, too.”
Grady and the Doc disappeared down the passage and Ryan turned back toward the main cavern. Cat and Bam-Bam stood at the map table, checking weapons and stacking empty M16 magazines as Tripp grabbed a box of ammunition, obviously the large-caliber bullets for Cat’s rifle. He grunted to get her attention and tossed the bullets to her. She put aside one cartridge and then emptied the box into an ammo bag attached to her belt. The tinkling of brass was almost musical. She closed the Velcro seal on the ammo bag and turned her attention to her rifle. Ryan watched her, admiring the efficient grace with which she handled the weapon. Her movements were easy, practiced, almost sensual, and his thoughts started to drift. After inspecting the rifle, she dropped the single 4 1/2 inch shell into the open chamber and slammed the bolt home with the ease and confidence of someone who worked with the four-foot, 23 pound weapon on a frequent basis. She propped the rifle against the table and reached for a box of normal ammunition.
“She’s obviously done this before,” Mack said under his breath.
Ryan shook himself and glanced at his teammate. “Y’think?” When she began loading the M16 magazines he walked toward her. “If you have some more 5.56, Mack and I can help. I may not be able to take out a target at 1500 meters, but I’m not a bad shot.”
“Yeah,” Mack affirmed. “I’m pretty good in a firefight, too.”
Tripp reached under the table and came up with four boxes of 5.56 cartridges in his huge, meaty hands. “Here you go, gentlemen. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks,” Ryan said, taking the boxes and handing two to Mack. They joined the others at the table and started filling empty magazines. Ryan glanced under the table and then looked at Cat. “You’ve got a lot of ammunition here. Expecting an army?”
A grim smile curved her mouth as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye. She picked up an empty M16 magazine. “Better to have it and not need it than the other way around, don’t you agree?”
Ryan chuckled ruefully. “Yes, ma’am, I would definitely have to agree with that.”
Silence prevailed for a few minutes, broken only by the click of bullets being inserted into magazines. When Cat had loaded a dozen or so she stacked them in front of her and leaned her elbows on the table.
“Lieutenant,” she began, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Well, Cate,” Ryan said, “since you saved my life I think you can ask me just about anything.”
She turned toward him. “What the hell were you and your team doing out here?”
“To be honest, I’m kind of wondering that myself now.” Ryan frowned and continued to load his magazines. “It was supposed to be a light mission. A truckload of weapons and ammo was hijacked from a convoy about a week ago. RPGs, rocket launchers, M16s.” His scowl deepened. “We received intel that part of the hijacked weapons had been stashed in a village not far from where the convoy was hit, about 40 klicks north of here.” He looked at Cat. “We got sent out, and the objective was simple. Recon the village to determine whether or not the weapons were there, and if they were, destroy them. Easy, right?”
“What happened?” Cat asked.
“We weren’t even halfway there when we got ambushed,” Mack said with an angry huff. He stuffed his now full magazines in his TAC vest and looked at Ryan. “It’s almost like they knew we were coming.”
Ryan flashed Mack a warning look. “Mack, zip it.”
Cat’s eyes narrowed and she straightened. “You think it was a set up?”
Ryan met her gaze and said nothing.
“Wow.” She blinked and exhaled slowly then looked at Tripp. “And they ran straight this way.” Tripp nodded, but remained mute.
“We didn’t have much choice,” Ryan said. “This was the only direction bullets weren’t coming from.” He paused and frowned. “Wait, do you think something bigger is going on here?”
Cat planted her hands on her hips, a scowl on her brow. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’ve never liked coincidences, but in this country, it’s almost impossible to tell if something was planned or the bad guys got lucky. I’ve seen both happen.”
“Me, too,” Ryan said. “So, what do we do now?”
Cat chewed her lip for a moment then loaded an M16 and handed it to him. “We need to finish this conversation,” she said at last, “but not now.” She turned to Bam-Bam. “You ready?” The demolitionist nodded and stood. Cat glanced over her shoulder at Tripp. “Tripp, you and the SEALs grab whatever boxes are left outside and hightail it for the helo. Bam and I will be right on your heels.” Tripp walked over to her and held out a hand. Cat slung her rifle over her shoulder and handed over her backpack. The huge man shrugged into it and turned toward the exit tunnel. Bam-Bam and Cat started walking the opposite direction.
Ryan frowned, slung the M16 across his back and shouldered his M4. “Wait,” he said, “where are you guys going?”
Cat stopped, turned, and gave him a tolerant look. “I’m going out front to see if anyone’s coming this way. If they are, I’m going to try and convince them to rethink that plan of action.”
“And once she’s done convincing I’m going to activate the lasers,” Bam-Bam added.
“We’ll be right behind you, LT,” she said.
Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “Mack, go with Trippler. I’m staying here.”
Cat lifted one arched brow. “Lieutenant....”
“Go on, Mack,” Ryan said. “I’ll be on your six.”
Mack grabbed his rifle and nodded. “You got it, Reaper.”
Cat waited until Tripp and Mack had left the cavern then she sighed. “Have it your way, LT. Grab as much ammo as you can carry and Bam and I will be back in five.” A jaunty smile tipped the corners of her mouth. “Then again, depending on how close they are it may be sooner, so, be ready to go.”
“I’ll be ready,” Ryan replied. “Just make sure you come back.”
“Oh, I’ll be back,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in those vivid green eyes. “I fully intend to collect on that cup of coffee.”
The heat in his chest expanded even as his throat tightened in anxious anticipation, and it took everything inside of him not to follow her. He was accustomed to running toward danger not waiting around for it to come to him, especially when there was a woman in the middle of it all. Yeah, I’m a caveman. Ryan scowled and started grabbing boxes of ammunition from under the table. When he could carry no more he stood and looked around the deserted cavern. There was still a lot of equipment in the room, but nothing they seemed overly concerned with leaving behind. He walked over to a blank computer monitor and turned it off as several pops came from the direction of the tunnel. Ryan’s head snapped up and he started toward the passage. Before he could take another step, Cat ran into the cavern.
“Time to go, Lieutenant.”
Ryan stared at her for a second. She was smiling and her cheeks were pink. In fact, she actually seemed to be enjoying this.
“Where’s Bam-Bam?” he asked.
“On my six,” she replied.
“I take it we’re going to have company?”
“They’re not here yet, but they’re coming.”
At that moment, Bam-Bam materialized out of the tunnel. “Let’s move,” he said. “After you, Lieutenant. Once you and Cat are out I have to arm the lasers on this side.”
Cat sprinted across the cavern and Ryan followed on her heels. They ran down the tunnel, past the alcoves where the medical bay had been and others Ryan hadn’t seen before now. He ignored it all and concentrated on following her. She moved like a feline, lithe and quick. The tunnel wound through the mountain for another hundred meters or so before he saw light. About a minute later they emerged into the frigid mountain air.
They were on a semi-circular landing with a narrow trail leading down from the western edge to his right. Ryan immediately knelt and raised his weapon, peering through the scope at the surrounding countryside. Although their enemies had been on the other side of the peak, that didn’t mean there weren’t bad guys on this side. However, the air was cold and still, the silence oddly reassuring. If there were Taliban on this side of the mountain no doubt a firefight would be raging between them and the people who had already evacuated.
“How far back are they?” Ryan asked. He glanced at Cat and saw she had assumed a similar stance, her eyes peering into the brush.
“I got two at about 500 meters,” she replied, her cheek resting on the stock of the rifle. “I saw a total of six, but I’m sure more are coming. They’ll pause for a few, gather their wits and their dead, and then continue to follow us.”
Ryan chuckled grimly. “That would be their worst decision today.”
She smiled and continued to survey the countryside. “No, their worst decision was going after you guys in the first place.”
“And so, the Tiger came out,” Ryan said. “Good for us, bad for them.”
Bam-Bam exited the tunnel and gave Cat a thumbs-up then followed the trail down the western slope. Cat took another look through her scope, rose, and inclined her head.
“After you, Lieutenant,” she said.
Ryan stood and shook his head. “Nope. We go together.”
She pursed her lips. “The trail is only big enough to go single file.”
“Then humor me,” he said, planting the butt of his rifle on his hip, “and give me something to follow. Call me a caveman if you want, but chasing something pretty provides me with incentive to move faster.” In the light of day, the faint flush that stained her cheeks was much easier to see, despite the overcast skies and light snowfall. She scowled and Ryan grinned. “After you, Cate. I always bring up the rear. Call it a coping mechanism, or a character flaw.”
There was a mutinous set to her chin and an angry glint in her eyes that made his smile widen, and her scowl turned darker.
“Fine,” she said at last, jogging past him, “but only because we don’t have time to argue right now.”
He gave her a small head start, then followed and matched her pace. “Whenever you want to argue, ma’am,” he said with a low chuckle, “I will be happy to oblige you.”
The terrain was easier on this side of the peak, but it was still a mountain in Afghanistan, so easier was a relative term. Between the topography and the altitude, Ryan knew even the most physically fit individuals would have difficulty. But he was a Navy SEAL. He lived for this type of stuff. It seemed Cat, too, was accustomed to the difficult landscape. She was quick and sure on her feet as the trail continued on a downward angle. Occasionally she glanced at him over her shoulder, and he gave her a cheerful salute in response. He had a feeling it annoyed her and that made him grin.
They’d been moving for about twenty minutes when the mountain shook and the sound of an explosion reached them. The three skidded to a halt and looked back. The peak itself was obscured by trees and brush, but the cloud of smoke rising into the sky was much easier to see.
“Looks like they found the entrance,” Ryan commented.
“Which means we need to pick up the pace,” Cat said. “It’ll slow them down, but I don’t want to give them a chance to shoot that helicopter out of the sky once we get airborne.”
“Hear, hear,” Bam-Bam said. “Picking up the pace, boss.”

Fighting for Justice

Fighting for Justice
Book Four of The Harvest Ridge Series
https://amzn.to/2OG1RsT
K.L. Ramsey
Prologue

Two years earlier

Justice dug under her mattress, trying to find the cell phone that her grandmother, Norma Jean Hobbs, had given to her. Her grandmother was worried that her father was up to “no good” as she put it and, unfortunately, her granny’s intuition was dead on. Justice couldn’t believe that her own father had her locked away in her childhood bedroom, like a prisoner in her own home. She was afraid to ask any of his guards for help, knowing that he either owned most of them or they were foolishly loyal to him. Either way, she couldn’t take the chance that any of them would rat her out rather than help her.
“Yes,” she hissed under her breath, as she pulled the cell phone free from where she’d hidden it. She turned it on and prayed that she had remembered to turn the volume off before she’d stowed it between the mattress and box spring. The screen lit up and, luckily for her, the phone made no noise to give away the fact that she was calling in the cavalry for help.
Justice had thought about calling the police, but she knew that would get her nowhere since her father owned most of the local authorities. She knew that the only person that she could trust was her granny, and she didn’t hesitate to dial her number. Her grandmother answered the phone and started talking before Justice even had a chance to say hello.
“Justice, if you’re using this phone, I know you’re in trouble. Tell me where you are, and I will send help.”
Justice smiled at the way her grandmother seemed so sure of herself, always in control and capable of taking charge of even the worst situations.
“He has me locked up in my old bedroom, Granny. I have no idea what he plans on doing with me, but he has two guards outside the bedroom door,” Justice whispered into the phone, praying that they couldn’t hear her through her door.
“I have a feeling that no good son of mine has plans to use you to get what he wants—a higher political office. I’ll send Charlie and the boys right over to you, don’t you worry.”
Justice whispered her thanks and hung up at the sound of footsteps outside of the bedroom door. There was no time to hide the phone again so she threw it under the bed, then sat down and tried to look as casual as she could, not wanting to give away the fact that she had just called in a rescue team.
The door swung open and her father strolled into her room. Anthony Hobbs always dressed to impress, and today was no exception. He loved to flaunt his wealth and power and always dressed the part. He unbuttoned his suit coat and slipped his hands in his pockets. That was about as casual as her father ever got in front of other people, including her.
“Justice, darling, my guards tell me that you are refusing dinner. May I ask why?”
She hated the way her father still spoke to her like she was a twelve-year-old little girl. She was twenty-one years old, and being held hostage was really starting to grate on her last nerve.
“Well, Daddy,”—she emphasized the word “Daddy” to let him know that term of endearment was a false one, coming from her lips—“I’m not hungry. You’ve held me here for hours now and I’d like to get back to my life, if you don’t mind.”
Being back in her childhood home really creeped her out. She had come over under the pretense that her father had a few items of her mother’s things to pass on to her. Her mother had died when she was just fifteen and Justice and her father had never really gotten along. Part of that might be the mistrust that she felt for him every time he walked into a room. The other part might be because she suspected that her father had killed her mother, but that had never been proven. Hell, his constituents had that rumor nipped in the bud before it even became a blip on the local law enforcement’s radar.
As soon as Justice had turned eighteen, she’d packed her bags and left for her grandmother’s ranch. She lived there still, in a little cabin that was on the property. Justice liked being close to Norma Jean, but still had her own place to go back to every evening. At least her grandmother knew how to treat her like an adult.
Her father pretended to notice a speck on his suit and worked on brushing it off, effectively dismissing her statement. “You are going to have a new life now, Justice. I think that you and my good friend, Jordan Wolf, are going to be very happy together. We shall announce your engagement tonight, at my campaign headquarters.”
Justice gasped and bolted from the bed, trying to run past him, but he blocked her with his body and reminded her just how forceful he could be when he wanted his way. He threw her back against the bed, and Justice knew better than to try to get back up.
“Eat, don’t eat, I really don’t care. Just be in the dress that I had placed in your closet by seven. And, for God’s sake, put on some makeup and pull back your hair.” Her father turned to leave, stopping in her doorway. He looked back over his shoulder. “Fair warning Justice—give me any trouble and I’ll give Jordan the green light to start the honeymoon early. He’s been dying to get his hands on you since I agreed to this little arrangement.” With that, her father disappeared into the hallway, her door shutting and locking behind him.
Justice slumped down onto the bed and almost gave in to her despair, until she remembered that her grandmother was sending in help. She just hoped they showed up before her father made the announcement of her pending nuptials.
The thought of marrying Jordan Wolf made her a little nauseous. She had met him on a few occasions, and the way that he watched her gave her the creeps. He was from one of the prominent families in Goose Creek and he was a major financial backer of her father’s mayoral campaign. She knew that her father was desperate to have Jordan back his bid for governor, and it looked as if he had found a way to do so—by using her. Jordon was quite a bit older than her and the thought of being “sold off” to the highest bidder made her sick. Honestly, she had come to expect no less from her dear old dad. He had always put his career needs above hers or her mother’s. If she didn’t get away from him now, she never would.
For now, she had no choice but to play along with the whole charade and hope like hell that her grandmother could get her out of there. Otherwise, she was going to end up being sold off to a man that would completely destroy her, and she couldn’t let that happen.
***
Justice waited until the very last minute to get into the hideous skin-tight dress, that her father had bought for her to wear for her engagement announcement, down at his campaign headquarters. She threw herself together and washed her face, hoping to hide the fact that she had spent the last thirty minutes crying into a pillow. Maybe it was too much to expect from her grandmother, but a part of her still hoped for some small miracle to happen, allowing her to escape her father’s plan. If she was lucky enough to get away from him, this time she’d run and wouldn’t look back. She knew that he would stop at nothing to have his way, and she wasn’t about to sit around and wait for him to make his next move. But with each passing minute, she worried that her escape was just a fading fantasy that was further and further out of reach.
Justice jumped at the knock at her door and didn’t bother to call for whomever it was to come in. She obviously had no choice in the matter, so why waste her breath? Her door opened, and Jordan Wolf sauntered into her room. The sight of his smiling, smug face made her want to punch him, but she knew that he would easily overpower her. He was a big man, and his financial reach was even broader. She wouldn’t be able to outpower or outrun Jordan Wolf, and that thought paralyzed her with fear.
“Well, don’t you look yummy? Maybe pull your hair up though, so I can see that pretty neck of yours,” he purred, running his fingers down the side of her neck and resting his hand on her shoulder.
She wanted to shrug him off and tell him to keep his fucking hands to himself, but she also knew that he liked a challenge. The last thing she needed was for him to see her as a conquest, although judging by the way he was looking at her, it might already be too late for that.
“What, no kiss for your fiancé?” He leaned down, as if expecting for her to make an effort and kiss him.
“I’m not sure what my father has promised you, but I’m sure that whatever it was isn’t worth the amount of money he will expect in return.” Justice knew that it was a long shot, but if she could get Jordan to see that she wasn’t worth his trouble, that might be her ticket out of the hell that her father was dragging her in to.
“Oh, honey, I’m pretty sure that you are going to be worth every penny that I promised your father. In return for my generous support to his campaign, I get you. I call that a win-win deal.” He leaned down, grabbing her jaw in his big hand.
The bite of pain told her just what kind of man Jordan Wolf was. Her instincts kicked in and she fought to free herself from his grasp. His eyes flared, and she could see his desire, feel it in his erection that pressed up against her when Jordan shoved her onto her bed. Justice kicked and screamed as he tugged at her evening gown, freeing her breasts.
“I like a woman with a little fight in her, honey. You and I are going to have a lot of fun together as I work on taming that wild spirit of yours.” He pressed her into the bed and sealed his mouth over hers, making it harder for her to breathe. When he finally let her up for air, she coughed and gagged, still fighting to free herself. He easily pinned her down, not allowing her even a little wiggle room.
“How about I take you for a little test drive, to see if I’m truly getting my money’s worth.” He ripped her dress down the front and she screamed for help, knowing that the guards would do nothing to help her. Justice closed her eyes as Jordan kissed his way down her body. She had never had a man touch her that way, and she hated that her first experience was going to be with a monster that could so easily take what she wasn’t willing to give.
Jordan leaned up from her body to undo his fly, and she took her cue to fight again. She scratched his face with her nails and kicked until he rolled off of her, holding his now bloody cheek.
“You bitch! You scratched my face and we’re going to be on live television in thirty minutes,” Jordan growled, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket to blot his face. “You will pay for this later. Right now, you need to find another dress to wear and fix your face.” He stood and walked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
Justice jumped at the noise but was thankful that he was gone. She could hear Jordan yelling through the house, looking for her father, no doubt to whine about her mistreatment of him. She almost wanted to laugh, but knew that he was a man that was used to getting his way. Jordan would make her pay for what she’d done to him.
Justice pulled on the clothes that she was wearing earlier, not having any other options available. What more could her father do to her if she disobeyed his orders and showed up to his press conference in jeans and a sweater? She knew that if her grandmother’s men didn’t arrive before they left, she would have to announce to the world that her father was evil, forcing her to marry a man who’d promised him money towards his campaign. That would teach him to use her to get what he wanted. She wasn’t a pawn to use to further his game, and she wasn’t going to just lie down and take it anymore.
Justice sat back down on the bed and tried to think through her options. She fished the cell phone out and found that she had cracked the screen when she’d thrown it to the floor earlier. She cursed, knowing that she was running out of options.
Justice heard a thud against the door and held her breath. She didn’t know if she should hope for it to be her father or Jordan to walk through the door. Neither one gave her any hope for escape. She looked around the room for something that she could use as a weapon and decided that the heavy crystal lamp on the bedside table was her best option. Justice picked it up and knew that the weight would be enough to knock out whomever was trying to get into the room. She stood on the side of the door, waiting, the lamp held high over her head. The person on the other side seemed to be struggling with the lock and she was starting to wonder what was taking so long. A few minutes later, the door unlocked and slowly crept open.
“Miss Justice,” a man’s voice whispered. Justice lowered the lamp, knowing the voice of her grandmother’s ranch foreman anywhere.
“Charlie?” she whispered back. He fully entered the room and tucked his gun back into his shoulder holster. “Oh Charlie, thank you so much for coming.” Justice threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tight, almost as if he was her lifeline.
“Don’t thank me yet. I still have to get you out of here, but your grandmother has created quite a distraction outside.”
Justice ran to the window and looked down to find her granny holding a shotgun at her father, and she was cussing up a storm. The sight made Justice smile, but she worried that it would only be a matter of time before her father’s guards would get the drop on her grandmother and they would stop at nothing to keep her dad safe.
“We need to get out there before she gets herself killed,” Justice squeaked.
Charlie laughed. “I think I’d be more worried that she’s going to kill her good-for-nothing son, but I agree—we need to get down there.”
Charlie led the way, down the grand staircase and right through the front door. Every security guard stood out front, surrounding her father. Granny Norma had effectively cleared the way for Charlie to sneak Justice right past them to his pickup truck around the corner.
“Shit,” Jordan yelled. “She’s getting away, Tony. Justice is leaving with that ranch trash.”
Norma fired a warning shot into the air and cocked the shotgun to reload the barrel. “Eyes on me, boys,” she barked. Charlie took that as his cue to take off, throwing the truck in drive and heading down the long driveway to the main road.
“Will she be alright?” Justice asked, looking back over her shoulder to where her granny still held her father at gunpoint.
Charlie laughed again and nodded. “Your grandmother is a tough old bird; she’ll be just fine.”
Justice knew Charlie was right, but she still worried about her grandmother. If her father was capable of kidnapping his own daughter and selling her off to the highest bidder, what else was he capable of? Justice took one last look back, afraid that she already knew the answer to her question.
Chapter One

Present day

Justice Hobbs jumped as Sunny burst through the back door of her bakery, chasing after little Sadie. Her two-year-old seemed to keep Sunny running most days, and being eight months pregnant, Justice knew she had to be tired. Heck, she was exhausted just watching Sunny try to keep up with everything most days. Justice scooped up the squealing toddler and spun her around, loving the way she giggled and squirmed trying to break free.
“Oh no, little sprite, you need to stay with your mama and listen to her, now.”
Justice handed the squirming girl back to Aaron, who’d strolled in after his wife. He took Sadie from her, kissing her cheek. Justice wasn’t sure how it had all happened, but Sunny and Aaron, along with their adorable daughter, had become her family.
“Hey, mama, you look about ready to pop,” Justice said, rubbing Sunny’s ever-expanding belly and feeling the baby kick her hand. That never got old, feeling Sunny’s little boy kicking and moving.
“Granny Norma said to tell you all hey,” she said, pulling off her apron, happy to be off her shift. Justice didn’t really mind the early morning, but lately, four am came way too soon.
She’d spent the past weekend out at her grandmother’s ranch in Goose Creek, Colorado, and she was dead tired. Her grandmother, Norma Jean Hobbs, was a spitfire. Justice had trouble keeping up with the sixty-five-year-old woman, and she was just twenty-three. She smiled to herself, remembering how her granny had dragged her along on her latest hunting trip, trying to find them the perfect turkey for Thanksgiving dinner. Justice was excited about the upcoming holidays, even though she would miss her friends in Harvest Ridge. She was going back home to stay with her grandmother for a week and help with Thanksgiving dinner. It was probably her favorite holiday, especially when she got to spend it with her most favorite person on the planet.
Sunny smiled. “How is Norma Jean doing these days?”
Her very pregnant friend pulled on her apron and helped Sadie with the little matching one that Norma had made for the toddler. Her grandmother had figuratively adopted Sunny and Aaron’s little family as her own, loving the toddler as if she were her own granddaughter. It was nice to see Norma Jean’s face light up every time Sunny and Aaron brought the toddler out to the ranch for a visit. It made Justice happy to see her grandmother play with little Sadie, spoiling her rotten.
“She’s good, but says to tell you she misses you all and that dinner is every Sunday at five, in case you have forgotten.”
Sunny and Aaron both laughed.
“I guess we owe her a visit before this little guy comes.” Aaron palmed Sunny’s belly and leaned in to gently kiss her lips.
Seeing the two of them together made Justice a little jealous. She wondered if she was ever going to meet someone in Harvest Ridge, or if she was doomed to become an old spinster, getting up at the butt crack of dawn and making pastries to sell in the bakery window. Sure, most people her age were going out to clubs a few towns over, or to the local bars, but she was asleep by eight pm most nights. Getting up before the sun sure put a damper on her dating life. Hell, since she’d taken the job at Sunny’s a little over two years ago, her dating life had been nonexistent.
“I try to get out to Goose Creek to see Granny every other week. But she sure seems to miss you guys. I bet she would love to see you before the baby comes. She’s planning on coming here for a visit after he arrives. She can’t wait to hold him. I think she secretly hopes to be the first visitor, so you’ve been forewarned.”
“Well, that would be just fine with me,” Sunny laughed. “You know I love your grandmother, Justice. We all do.” Sunny tickled Sadie, causing her to giggle and squirm in Aaron’s arms.
“Well, she loves all of you and I can’t tell you how happy you all have made her, especially since I left her to move here and, well, the stuff with my dad...”
Justice let her thoughts trail off, not wanting to finish what she was thinking. She was always careful about how much she shared with Sunny and Aaron about her father. Anthony Hobbs was the Mayor of Goose Creek and had become involved with some scary men to get where he was in his political career. Now that he was running for governor, Justice was afraid of what her father’s choices might cost her personally. Norma Jean had written off her own son when she found out just how far he went to secure his position as mayor. She’d helped Justice to break free from her father’s hold and make a new start in Harvest Ridge, where she’d secretly lived for months before returning home to visit her grandmother.
Justice knew there was always a chance that her father’s lynch men were watching her, maybe even ready to drag her back home, but it had been two years since she’d got away from him. He probably had bigger fish to fry besides marrying off his twenty-three-year-old only child to his biggest supporter. The thought of being a part of an arranged marriage seemed barbaric to her and she shook her head, trying to rid that painful night from her thoughts. That was the night her grandmother had sent over half a dozen ranch hands to physically pull her out of her father’s house and get her to safety. If it hadn’t been for her grandmother’s quick thinking, she would have been shipped off to marry Jordan Wolf, a thirty-five-year-old man who financially supported her father’s political career and pulled most of her dad’s strings.
“You alright, Justice?” Sunny stroked her arm and she shivered.
“Yes, I’ll be fine, thanks.” Justice knew that reliving that night, over and over again, was costing her the tightly held control she craved. But she also knew that telling her closest friend about how she’d been abducted and almost raped didn’t feel right. Sunny had enough going on in her life to hear about Justice’s darkness. Those secrets were better kept to herself.
“Why don’t you go home and get some rest? You look beat,” Aaron said.
She felt dead on her feet; she hadn’t been sleeping much the past few nights. She was having horrible nightmares and felt the need to constantly look over her shoulder. Living in continuous fear was exhausting, and the lack of sleep was catching up with her.
She kissed Sadie’s cheek and laughed when the feisty toddler wiped it off with the back of her little hand.
“Yuck,” Sadie squealed, causing them all to laugh.
Justice hugged Sunny and waved to Aaron, grabbing her backpack on the way out the back door. She stepped into the alley and froze at the sight of the motorcycle parked by the back corner of the building. She quickly looked around and, when she spotted the big guy standing by the bike, she wanted to run back through the back door. He was exactly the type of goon her father would employ to hunt her down. The hairs on her neck stood on end as he turned and walked towards her. She wanted to scream or run back into the building, but she couldn’t move her legs, being frozen with fear.
“Justice Hobbs?”
His voice felt as though it blew straight through her. It was deep and sexy with a slight growl that made her want to lean into his big body. He was tall, and his shoulders were broad enough to block out the afternoon sun. He was wearing shades that hid his eyes, but his dark hair and full lips had her thinking things about a total stranger she was better off not thinking about.
She shivered. “Yes, I’m Justice Hobbs.”
He smiled at her and took off his sunglasses, revealing the sexiest green eyes she had ever seen.
“I’m Jagger James. Your grandmother, Norma Jean, sent me. You are in danger and she wants me to bring you to her.”
Justice heard all the little alarms ringing in her head, and she was finding it hard to concentrate. Especially with tall, dark and hunky hovering over her. Her grandmother would never send a stranger to fetch her. Justice knew all her granny’s ranch hands, and she was pretty sure she would remember sexy Jagger James working at the ranch.
“I haven’t seen you around my grandmother’s place,” she almost whispered, clearing her throat. “Are you new?”
Jagger nodded, and she wondered if she was just being silly. Maybe her grandmother had sent her a handsome stranger to whisk her away to safety, but what if he was actually the danger and she was giving herself over to the enemy?
“I haven’t been out to the ranch in months,” she lied. She was just out there, and she would not have forgotten seeing him. “When did Norma Jean hire you?” She tried to sound flirty rather than nervous but wasn’t sure she was pulling it off.
“I’ve been with her for a couple months now. Listen.” Jagger looked around the alley, as if making sure no one was around. “You seem like a nice girl and all, but I’d really like to get back on the road.”
He nodded to where his bike was parked. His lie told her everything she needed to know. He was working for her dad and was there to bring her home.
She knew she had two options. She could either fight like hell and try to get away from him, or she could go and visit her dear old dad. She decided to fight like hell, because a family reunion with a man that was trying to auction her off to the highest bidder wasn’t what she wanted to do today.
She gave him her best smile and leaned into his body. The big goon was dumb enough to smile back at her and that was when she kneed him in the balls. Judging from his groan and the way he doubled over, she’d made contact and done some damage. What she wasn’t prepared for was him grabbing her ankle on his way down and knocking her to the ground with him. Her head hit the pavement and her world was going dark, leaving her defenseless to fight back. Her last thought was that she was going home, and the fear of what her father would allow others to do to her filled her with dread.
***
Jagger took a few minutes to pull himself together after the sultry little Hobbs brat had kneed him in the balls. He loved a girl with a little fire, but this woman was an inferno. She was sexy as fuck, with her jeans that hugged her every curve and the cropped sweater that did nothing to hide her side tattoo or her little belly ring. Her dark hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and she had on very little makeup, just the way he liked.
Before she’d admitted to being Justice Hobbs, a part of him wished she wasn’t. His assignment was to grab the mayor’s spoiled princess and force her back to his mansion. He really didn’t care about the rest of the details. As long as he got what Hobbs promised him, he’d let his boss have the little brat. But she was so much sexier than the picture he’d been given to trace her down. And a whole lot feistier than her dear old dad had described her to be.
He had watched her most of the morning, hoping there would be a lull at the bakery where she worked, but he hadn’t been that lucky. When the pregnant woman and her kid showed up, with a guy he assumed was the woman’s husband, he knew he was finally going to get his chance to grab Justice. Jagger had waited in the back alley for her to get off work and make her way out to her old pickup truck. The plan was to lie to her and convince her that her grandmother was sending him. He was hoping to get her to go along willingly, so he could take his bike. Now he was going to have to tie his bike down in the bed of her truck, and drive her ancient pickup all the way back to Goose Creek.
Jagger stood, gingerly holding his groin, making sure that the pain wasn’t unbearable. He’d got lucky that she’d knocked herself out when he’d grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Failing to bring her back to Mr. Hobbs wasn’t an option—he had too much on the line, including his little sister’s life. He was so close to walking out of there with Jules by his side. Leaving Jules with that crazy man wasn’t going to happen, ever. So, he’d nab the princess and deliver her back to Hobbs, keeping up his end of the bargain. He just hoped like hell that Anthony Hobbs kept up his end, because from what he learned about the man, in a short time, was that he didn’t play by the rules.
Jagger’s sister had been foolish enough to trust Hobbs, when she took the job to be his personal assistant. What she didn’t know was that he was as crooked and corrupt as they came. Once she’d caught on and tried to quit, Hobbs had made sure she was tied to his dirty dealings. She’d called Jagger for help, and he’d had no choice but to take Hobbs’ offer to work as one of his goons.
Hobbs was impressed with Jagger’s military service, since he’d been honorably discharged from the air force. He also liked that Jag was a pilot, in case he needed to fly somewhere fast to get out of a jam.
All in all, the job hadn’t been too taxing, mostly being the mayor’s bodyguard and making sure his business didn’t get too messy. He’d had to knock a few heads together, but for the most part, he’d been lucky enough to keep his hands clean. Until now, when he’d had to kidnap the princess and drag her back home, against her will.
He pulled Justice up his body, double checking they were still alone. It was close to lunchtime and he was sure people in the little town would be heading out to eat soon. He didn’t need to be asked any questions as to what he was doing with the sexy little hellcat. He especially didn’t want her waking up and taking another swipe at him. She had a good aim and he didn’t want to give her another chance at unmanning him.
He hoisted her over his shoulder, grabbed her bag, making sure to leave no trace of her behind, and carried her over to her pickup truck. He dug into her tight little jeans and found her keys, unlocked the door and slid her into the passenger seat. He started back over to his bike but was stopped by an SUV that had pulled into the alley and parked next to a pink ice cream shop.
Jagger ducked behind Justice’s pickup, closing his eyes and saying a little prayer that whoever it was hadn’t seen him hiding or Justice passed out in the passenger seat. The woman hopped out of her SUV, got a kid from the back seat and went into the back entrance of the pink building. He breathed a sigh of relief at not being caught trying to abduct sexy little Justice. He was pretty sure most people in this small town knew each other.
He decided to leave his bike, knowing he was taking the chance of it eventually being found and possibly leading the cops right to him. He didn’t really care what happened to him, and hopefully ditching the bike would buy him the time he needed to get Hobbs’ daughter back to him and get Jules out from under that crazy man’s thumb. His sister’s safety was his number one priority now. Whatever happened to him, he’d deal with later. Jules needed him and there was no fucking way he was going to let his little sister down again.

Dark Awakening

Dark Awakening
https://amzn.to/2L82UA4
Karlene Cameron
Chapter One


Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves.
Confucius

June 16, 2012, Seattle, Washington

Caitriona Sinclair knew how she was going to die. She had seen her death countless times since she was a young girl. Each time the vision splashed violently across her mind, she trembled and broke out in a cold sweat. But it wasn’t just the images that disturbed her; the loneliness and heartache that ripped through her left her gasping and afraid.
Her death wasn’t peaceful, nor was it a sacrifice for someone she loved. Her death was violent and bloody, perpetrated at the hands of a dark, powerful stranger and the blade he so skillfully maneuvered.
She took a deep breath to steady her nerves and reached up to smooth a stray strand of reddish-brown hair from her pale heart-shaped face, blinking several times to clear the remaining imprints from her mind. As with all the other times she’d witnessed her death, she felt unsettled. She had no idea who the stranger was and, more importantly, why he wanted her dead. His face was always shrouded by darkness. The only real discerning characteristic was the tattooed Celtic knot that circled his left upper arm. A chill ran across her body and she began to shiver uncontrollably. She knew the headache wouldn’t be far behind - a horrendous parting gift from a vision she was all too familiar with.
Caitriona sank back in the cold, unyielding office chair that had been a permanent fixture in the old building long before she had been promoted to the rather small office. She ran her hand through her long hair, pushing away the nostalgia that threatened to consume her day. Having lost her mother and older sister in a violent car accident when she was only thirteen years old, Caitriona had been raised by her mother’s widowed sister. While neither abusive nor uncaring, the woman had seldom shown any great degree of love or affection toward Caitriona. Her aunt was devoted to Christ and had raised Caitriona as only a good Christian woman could; with hours of religious study, prayer and service to others. Once, Caitriona had tried to talk to her aunt about the nightmares and visions that haunted her. Her aunt’s horrified expression, along with ensuing hours of prayer and scripture, reaffirmed Caitriona’s belief that it was best to remain silent.
It was no great surprise, then, that Caitriona had spent her youth longing for a mother she barely remembered and a father who had disappeared when she turned five. From that fateful day when the car accident stole her mother and sister, she had spent her days in religious hell, longing for a life where she could run through rain puddles, climb trees, and read fairy tales. She learned quickly enough that her aunt could tolerate only so much of Caitriona’s “differences.” So Caitriona had learned to keep silent, obey the rules, and blend into the monochromatic world around her. This left a tremendous void in Caitriona’s life. With no one around to explain what she was experiencing, let alone help her develop the skill she so desperately wanted to understand, she felt like even more of an outcast; an unwanted pebble in her aunt’s worn and sensible shoes.
Caitriona smiled as she recalled images of her older sister. Unlike Caitriona, Danika devoured life. She had a penchant for finding mischief. Unconventional and unapologetic, Danika believed that life was a classroom, and nothing should be left unexplored. Despite her free spirit, Danika was disciplined when it came to her music studies. An accomplished pianist by the age of twelve, Danika soaked up the spotlight and never passed up an opportunity to perform. Caitriona smiled, thinking about the way her sister could command an audience. Sloe-eyed with long chestnut brown hair, she had a way of turning heads both on and off the stage.
Danika should have been the one to live that day, Caitriona thought sadly, as memories of the car wreck brought tears to her eyes. Her sister, who had just turned eighteen a week earlier, had gotten her driver’s license that afternoon. She had begged their mother to let her drive them to Dairy Queen, a celebration—she had laughed—of a major milestone in life. And one she convinced their mother that shouldn’t go unrewarded or unrecognized. Caitriona smiled, remembering the theatrical flair Danika had for even the most mundane of chores. Their mother had finally relented.
It was unusually rainy for that time of year and the roads were slick with rain and oil. The SUV Danika was driving hydroplaned shortly after she had pulled onto the two lane highway. Danika crossed the center line and their vehicle was struck head-on by a motor home. Their mother was killed instantly. A man in another SUV saw the accident and stopped, pulling Danika from the wreckage, but she died later at the scene. Caitriona had spent several weeks in the hospital with multiple broken ribs, internal bleeding, and a ruptured disc. To her aunt’s credit, the woman never left her side and provided a stable sort of comfort during her long recovery.
Caitriona sighed and shrugged away the remaining nostalgia. She wasn’t even sure that what woke her from her dreams, and hijacked her day vision was anything worth exploring. After all, the yellow pages and online directories were already full of psychics and mystics, all claiming to be able to see future events. Most, she knew, were simply looking for employment opportunities. And the few legitimate psychics there were constantly had to battle a public image that had long since been tarnished.
So, in deference, Caitriona turned a blind eye to her “gift” and concentrated instead on the career ladder she was quickly climbing. At twenty-six, she was one of the youngest marketing executives on the team at Brennen and Dornais, the largest marketing agency on the West Coast. Indeed, her career path had cost her plenty: a lost love, an estranged aunt, and plenty of sleepless nights. But, as an aspiring young marketing executive, Caitriona didn’t spend much time lamenting the things she had lost.
“Hey, Cat!” Eric Brockman popped casually into Caitriona’s office, breaking her concentration and bringing her attention once more to her work. At nearly six feet tall and broad shouldered, Eric’s massive frame filled the doorway. Sandy brown curls made a mocking display of the gel he so generously used to keep them anchored in place.
“You know I hate it when you call me that,” snarled Caitriona, but a smile gathered easily at the corners of her mouth.
“Did you hear who won the Amazon account?” Eric questioned, his deep blue eyes sparkling with the excitement of his soon-to-be-told news.
Caitriona arched one brow and gestured for Eric to sit down. “Please don’t tell me Brennen and Dornais gave it to Elena and her team?” Caitriona pulled her lower lip under her teeth and grimaced when Eric gave her an affirmative nod. “How could they?” she groaned in exasperation.
Eric allowed his gaze to dip appreciatively to Caitriona’s ample breasts as he replied, “You just don’t flaunt what you’ve got, Cat!” Eric chuckled and tossed a stack of papers on her desk before she could admonish him further. “Don’t let it eat at you. We’ve got plenty to concentrate on with the new Matherson account.” While Eric didn’t allow his gaze to linger long, Caitriona noted that his eyes took in every appreciative curve of her body. At 5’7”, Caitriona was taller than the average woman, but she knew this only served to give her an air of authority and power. Perfectly proportioned, Caitriona had a mass of auburn curls that fell seductively over her narrow shoulders. Full lips and emerald green eyes accentuated her beauty and called attention to her flawless ivory skin, finely chiseled cheekbones, and softly feminine features.
Caitriona picked up the papers and quickly scanned the stack for relevant information. “I’ll need you to be the lead designer,” Caitriona mumbled, not looking up from the stack she continued to scan, knowing Eric wouldn’t hesitate. “I’ll pull together a team and schedule a kick-off meeting for next week.” She dropped the stack of papers back to her desk and looked up, rubbing her temples in an effort to ward off the headache that was on the brink of becoming a full-blown migraine.
“Eric, I’m going to call it a day.” She managed a tiny smile that was more perfunctory than sincere, and began gathering documents she would work on later that evening in the comfort of her small downtown apartment, near the edge of the beautiful Seattle waterfront.
“Another headache, huh,” Eric asked as he retrieved her computer bag from the hook behind the door and helped pack her folders. He stopped suddenly and looked at her, his eyes filled with concern. “It’s the vision again, isn’t it?” he questioned, fear making his tone harsher than what she knew he intended. At her silence, he heaved a rather breathy sigh and took a seat across from her in the padded office chair she reserved for visitors.
“Cat, you really need to get in and see a doctor. The headaches are becoming way too frequent; which means the vision has become more frequent,” he said as more of a statement than a question. “I don’t like this.” His concern was etched visibly in the furrow of his brow. He continued stuffing papers into her bag and, vacating the uncomfortable chair, retrieved her sweater from the hook behind the door. “Do you at least want some help getting home?”
“Thanks, Eric, but it’s a short bus ride. I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll even call you later tonight and we can talk about the details of the Matherson account.” Caitriona smiled reassuringly at Eric’s scowl and slung her bag over her shoulder, taking the sweater he proffered with one arm. He walked with her to the elevator in uncomfortable silence, concern still visible on his handsome face. Caitriona had known Eric since undergraduate school at the University of Washington. Together they had shared many late nights, dreams of the future, and steaming mugs of coffee. One particular night after several shots of tequila and rounds of Corona, Caitriona had confided in Eric about the vision. At first he didn’t believe her, but after witnessing an episode that left her nearly writhing in agony from the debilitating aftereffects, he no longer questioned her honesty or integrity. Instead, he had helped her focus on the details, pulling out the smallest minutiae to aid her in piecing the puzzle together. Over the years they had shared many theories about the vision, but despite counseling, sleep therapy, and hypnosis, the vision continued to haunt her dreams, and more recently invaded her waking thoughts as well.
Eric touched her shoulder, locking deep blue eyes with emerald green. He had been drawn to her from the moment they were paired together in chemistry at UW. Her sharp mind and even sharper wit had endeared her to him in a way no other woman ever had. While Eric soon stood out as the stronger academic, Caitriona impressed her professors with her visionary prowess, and later blazed a professional trail, through hard work, a tenacious attitude, and an uncanny ability to know when to take risks.
While she and Eric had, at one time, explored a brief romantic interlude, Cat didn’t feel drawn to him in the same way he did to her. She was restless and searching for something that she could neither articulate nor understand herself. And so she distanced herself from any close relationships. But regardless of how much she continued to push Eric away, he followed her career path relentlessly and positioned himself in companies where they could partner together in work.
Eric punched the elevator button for Cat and squeezed her arm affectionately as the elevator doors hissed open. Caitriona smiled reassuringly and saw the worry still etched in his handsome face. She started to say something, but the doors began to close and the pain in her temples grew stronger. She relaxed against the back of the elevator, glad to be calling it a day.
Outside, Caitriona tilted her face to the warm mid-afternoon sun and inhaled sharply; willing the pain in her head to go away. While her apartment was just slightly over three miles from the office, she was in no shape to walk. Deciding the bus was a better alternative, she scooted quickly across the street to wait at the already crowded bus stop. She didn't have long to wait and was relieved when the city bus pulled alongside the gathering horde.
Caitriona pressed sharply against her temple to quell a surge of pain that was threatening to burgeon into a full-blown migraine. She groaned inwardly as she stepped onto a standing room only bus. As she swiped her bus pass and the requested fare was subtracted from her balance, she caught sight of two men who looked like they would be more comfortable in an Aston Martin than the crowded Metro. Both men were striking, with well-developed arm muscles that strained against their white collared Armani shirts. Before she had a chance to reflect further, she was gripped with another searing flash of pain that brought her hands up sharply to her temples; a vain effort on her part to subdue the ember-hot pain shooting through her brain.
Caitriona sighed again as she realized that the chance of finding a seat on the over-crowded bus looked slim. She eyed several passengers in seats closest to her, but all of them looked away, not eager to offer her their coveted vinyl thrones. Caitriona breathed deeply and closed her eyes, willing the bus driver to get her home quickly. She wanted nothing more than to pull on her favorite sweats, pour a glass of wine and relax in the comfort of her plush but aging sofa. Instead, she took another cleansing breath and closed her eyes against the pain. The doctors had been unable to find any cause or provide any treatment for the unbearable headaches. Short of shots of Demerol for pain and electrical pulses to stimulate the nerves, the doctors had been unable to offer any permanent comfort or relief. What made it even more confusing was that the headaches became worse right after a “vision.” Some “gift”, she thought absently.
She rubbed her temples again and briefly considered getting off the overcrowded people mover, but knew the few minutes she would spend standing would be infinitely better than walking, so she resolved herself to her fate and pushed forward until the stream of humanity stopped and the young girl whom she was following turned to face her, signaling they had reached standing capacity. Caitriona smiled wanly at the young girl and turned to face the front of the bus, shrugging off her pack and placing it at her feet. She looked up and caught her breath as her gaze settled on the giant before her. The man she had spotted earlier had gotten on behind her. He was huge. Not fat, but all hard lines and muscles. He was easily 6’4” and dominated the space around them. Formidable, she thought wryly as she allowed her gaze to move approvingly over his broad shoulders, muscled arms and thighs, and the tightness of his firm buttocks. I bet he has no shortage of women at night.
As if sensing her eyes on his back, the man turned sideways so that he could face her. His gaze swept her body quickly before meeting her inquisitive stare. Caitriona dropped her gaze and fished in her pocket for her cell phone, needing a distraction to keep from staring at the hulk of a man standing before her. She swiped quickly through her email and Facebook posts with one hand while the other hand held the strap that was positioned uncomfortably above her.
Caitriona could literally feel the stranger’s eyes on her, exploring her curves unabashedly. She felt an undeniable exchange between them, almost as if an electrical current were dancing between them. She refused to look at him, but could still feel his eyes lingering on her small form, burning their way across her body. His friend said something to him and he turned to acknowledge him. Caitriona was glad for the interruption and slyly looked up through dark lashes, noticing the smile that reached his eyes as he replied to his friend.
She gauged him to be in his late 30s; tiny lines edged his eyes and he had the faintest hints of salt and pepper beginning to streak his neatly trimmed beard. His hair was mesmerizing: jet black and full with soft curls forming at the ends. It reached nearly to his shoulders and was tied back with nothing more than a leather thong. Warrior. The thought came to her as she took in his masculinity and mannerisms. This guy was all man. An intricate tattoo peeked from under his loosely buttoned shirt and she wondered how much of his body was covered by the arresting ink. A flash of the mysterious stranger from her earlier vision invaded her thoughts but she pushed it quickly away. Don’t be ridiculous, she thought angrily; not everyone who sports a tattoo is out to kill you. But the thought that this could be her deadly stranger wouldn’t leave her.
She glanced at him again, noting how his expensive yet tasteful clothes hinted at the muscles underneath. His powerful physique stretched taut the cotton cloth that did little to hide the masculine form beneath. His pants were more like trews, she thought absently, and then mentally chided herself as she pictured this man at home as captain of a large clipper. I bet he's part of the Pirate club here in Seattle.
As the bus pulled away from the curb, she braced herself for the jarring ride home. Caitriona was not a big fan of the Metro, but did acknowledge that, in a city where parking was at a premium, it was better to brave the bus line than to go broke paying for overpriced, oversold parking.
She didn't have much time to ponder this last thought as the bus driver slammed on his brakes suddenly, and she was flung violently forward. A collective gasp was heard from the riders as they struggled to maintain their balance and keep from landing on the floor.
Caitriona realized she was still standing and the dark-haired man-wall in front of her was to thank. He caught her easily by the waist, his arm tightening in response, bringing her body alarmingly close to his. Caitriona’s body immediately warmed, heated by the way he held her to him, possessive and confident; as if he had every right to keep her pinned to him as long as he liked.
Caitriona tried to regain her composure quickly; her rational thoughts being pushed away in favor of the wicked, wanton images that flooded her mind. His high-end designer clothing alone was worth admiring. Precisely cut to showcase broad shoulders, trim waist and long, well-muscled legs, the fitted charcoal blazer lent him an air of power and wealth. The jacket was worn over a white collared silk shirt, open at the collar to reveal black chest hair and tawny skin, and fitted khaki pants. But it was the way he filled the space around him merely by standing there that caused a soft gasp to escape her lips.
“Are ye alright, lass?” he said, his Scottish lilt giving him an even greater sexual advantage in Caitriona’s book.
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine,” she said a little too breathlessly. She hoped he hadn't noticed. He smiled at her and shifted his weight, his arm still possessively around her. She dropped her gaze, unsure of what to say and acutely aware of the uncomfortable silence that was beginning to stretch before them. Caitriona, still shaken, replied, “I’m sorry.”
“Dinna be,” he said with a seductive half smile. He still held her firmly by the waist, sexual energy rolling off him in sheets.
Caitriona could feel him hard and unforgiving beneath his clothes. She pushed slightly against his hard chest, but he still held her tight against him. He locked steel grey eyes with her emerald green ones, paralyzing Caitriona with that single stare that inextricably connected them. She suffered a fleeting moment of déjà vu, feeling as if she had known this man in another life, and wondered briefly again about her vision. Sadly, she felt his hands drop from her waist, leaving an electrical trail as they slowly left her body.
Caitriona was brought back to her surroundings and out of her hypnotic trance as she once again registered the presence of the other passengers. She was acutely aware of her modest but professional attire and the heat that rose to her cheeks. The brown, pinstripe skirt she wore hugged her curves appreciatively but was bereft of any designer label. A sea-foam green blouse added a hint of color and complimented the deep emerald hue of her eyes. She fidgeted nervously with the buttons of her shirt, wishing she could be anywhere other than on the bus and under the penetrating, electric gaze of the man before her. It wasn’t the first time in her life that she wished she had more of an interest in fashion.
His eyes dipped appreciatively to the valley between her breasts, and she thought she saw a faint smile dance quickly across his masculine features. Get a grip, she admonished herself silently. Men like that don’t look at girls like you. Having been raised by a religious zealot, she was taught that vanity was one of the greatest sins. As a result, her wardrobe consisted primarily of simple muslin and cotton dresses, practical loafers, and unassuming handbags; a far cry from what the other girls her age were sporting. While she retired the muslin when she left her aunt’s home to go to college, she still found it difficult to spend money (and even time) on a wardrobe that was as meaningless and shallow as many of the men, and women, she met.
Caitriona turned around and tried to tune out the cacophony of voices that were going on animatedly about the most recent traffic issues involving Metro drivers. As the bus once again jolted in and out of traffic, Caitriona’s thoughts turned to the man who stood just mere inches from her. The feeling that she had seen him before wouldn’t go away, but she couldn’t pinpoint her concern - unless he was the man from her vision. The thought left her feeling unsettled.
A sharp pain suddenly wracked her head from the base of her skull to the spot behind her eyes. She cried out and clutched her head, immediately regretting her outburst.
“Are ye alright, lass?” he asked for the second time that day. Concern was clearly visible on the stranger’s face. She shook her head quickly, the sudden motion reminding her that the pain had not dissipated.
The man placed his hand on her arm and in that instant, a flash formed in the back of Caitriona's mind: a quick image of the man before her on a horse, a sword at his side and an army behind him. Like many of her other visions, it moved quickly across her mind and was gone almost as swiftly as it began. The pain wracked her head again and she moaned softly.
“It's nothing,” Caitriona replied softly. “But thank you for your concern.” She reached to get her pack, noting that the bus had once again started its downtown journey and was closing in on her destination.
Caitriona was thankful for the short ride to her home and was even more grateful when the light traffic allowed the bus to make better than usual time. She sighed and considered getting off at an earlier stop five blocks from her weathered apartment building. The thought of some fresh air and a chance to escape the hordes of people sounded like a good idea. Deciding she didn’t feel up to the walk, even a short one, she waited patiently as several in front of her exited the bus. Those who weren’t getting off quickly took possession of the recently vacated seats.
“It certainly doesna seem like nothing, lass,” the man-wall chided her as the bus pulled forward again slowly, “Perhaps I can at least see ye home?”
“Truly, I'm fine,” she said again. “My stop is the next one.” She motioned to the window as the bus pulled up alongside the curb, and the kneeling bus stooped to let her off. The two gentlemen got off with her, as did many others who were standing. Many of them would simply reboard and, if they were lucky, find seats for the rest of their journey.
Caitriona exited the bus, mustering a smile for the bus driver as he shut the bus doors. As he started to pull away from the curb, she noticed the man-wall conversing with his friend in hushed tones. They glanced in her direction, making her feel uneasy. “Can I help you find something?” she called out to the two men, deciding it was better to acknowledge their presence, in the hopes she could redirect their attention.
“We are looking for someone,” stated the smaller of the two men. Of Asian descent, he spoke perfect English, which indicated he’d most likely been born in the States. The Scottish man-wall eyed her inquisitively, but otherwise said nothing. His companion smiled amicably and extended his hand to Caitriona in a warm greeting. “My name’s Lee,” he stated simply, gripping her hand firmly and flashing her another smile that showed perfectly even, white teeth. His thick, jet black hair was cut short and framed his angular face rather nicely. “This is Duncan MacKinnon,” he nodded to the man-wall, who acknowledged her with a slight dip of his head.
Caitriona couldn’t take her eyes off the man-wall’s deep, steel grey eyes that once again found her own. Caitriona eyed the men warily and instinctively took a step back, piecing together her exit plan in case she had to fight or get away. Sensing her uneasiness, both men stepped back, giving her the space she needed to feel more secure.
“I’m afraid I don’t know too many people in this area,” Caitriona stated. “Perhaps you can check over at the market.” Caitriona gestured behind the men toward Pike Place Market. “Several of those merchants have been around for decades.”
Caitriona turned away from the two men and started to walk quickly toward the steps leading to her apartment when the Asian man interrupted her. “Thank you, miss. But we were hoping you might have a directory.” Caitriona turned, the pounding in her head igniting the short fuse she had on her temper. She started to say something impudent, but he interrupted her again, “It shouldn’t take too long, and then we’ll be on our way.”
“You two don’t have cell phones?” Caitriona stated as more of a fact than a question, eyeing them quizzically. At their apologetic shrugs, she sighed and said rather tersely, “Stay here and I’ll bring the phone book out to you.” Who wears Armani and doesn’t have a cell phone, she wondered with suspicion.
Caitriona dug around in her laptop bag for the keys to her apartment as she began climbing the steps. Unlocking the door quickly, she slipped inside and kicked off her shoes. The large bay windows overlooking the Puget Sound provided ample light, so she opened the blinds and raised them in order to take in an obstructed view of the bay. Sighing heavily, she opened a kitchen drawer and removed the three-inch-thick directory and ran back outside, leaving her door slightly ajar.
Both men got up from where they were sitting on the bottom step, and thanked her for the use of the directory. “You can just leave it on the step. I’ll get it later,” Caitriona stated. The man-wall looked like he wanted to say something and thought better of it. Caitriona slipped quickly back inside the apartment and bolted the door; her inability to remember where she had seen the man-wall giving rise to her growing suspicion.
Sinking wearily into the love seat facing the windows, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath; the uncomfortable encounter with the strangers already fading from her mind. Rearranging the pillows, she stretched out on the love seat, curling up into a ball in order to accommodate its shorter width. Sighing contentedly, she pulled a light blanket across her legs and drifted off to a restless sleep.
***
Caitriona was running. She knew there was something chasing her, but she didn’t know who or what it was. She knew only she had to keep running. As she ran, images kept surfacing; disturbing faces of people she ought to know but, try as she might, she simply couldn’t put names to any of them.
Somewhere in the distance a red light continued its monochromatic blinking, casting eerie shadows on the walls around her and causing her to feel disoriented. Uneasiness quickly spread over Caitriona and she found herself running in circles, unable to exit the maddening race. A pair of steel grey eyes flashed into her vision, bringing a sense of familiarity and security. The feeling passed quickly and there was nothing but darkness engulfing her once again.
Caitriona felt something brush against her arm. She screamed and tried to move, but her legs refused to budge. The air felt heavy and her lungs burned as she tried to inhale deeply. She could feel the blackness engulf her, threatening to pull her under. But under what she didn’t know. Then there were hundreds of hands reaching out to her, touching her, trying to pull her toward them. The scream tore from her lips and escaped into her waking life.
***
Caitriona felt the rumble in her bones long before she heard it. As the movement continued to grow, Caitriona became aware of a panic that was growing in her as well. As her eyes fluttered open from her, now forgotten, dream, she struggled against the darkness that enveloped her. Had she been asleep that long, she wondered. Darkness had somehow snuck in without her awareness. She struggled to escape the heaviness that threatened to keep her in her dreams. She fought to open her eyes, blinking rapidly to push the weightiness from her lids.
The rumbling grew deeper this time and shook the chandelier, until its dainty crystals sang a melody that belied the current danger. Caitriona forced her eyes open at last and sat up, hastily throwing off the cover; her fear growing more visible as she realized what was happening. Earthquake, she thought frantically; paralyzed as heirlooms, dishes, and other items were tossed carelessly to the floor by the growing tremblor.
Caitriona managed to stumble toward the door frame, throwing open the front door to better brace her slight form within the thick, solid beams of the door’s structure. She cried out when a splintering crack brought a portion of the ceiling plaster crashing in around her. This isn’t happening, she thought wildly. She pulled her arms over her head instinctively to protect herself, cringing as more of the building began groaning under the earth’s growing assault.
Around her the apartment’s weathered bricks began crumbling and collapsing; one of them landing loudly on the phone book the two strangers had left on the apartment’s now debris littered steps. The rumbling continued as light poles swayed and crashed thunderously to the ground. Transformers began exploding, and everywhere the sound of screaming and sobbing could be heard.
Surely this should have ended by now, Caitriona thought, as dust and debris littered the air, making it impossible to breathe. Caitriona looked up in time to see several telephone utility poles sway, break and fall away, executing a man caught in the electrical giant’s swaying tendrils. The shaking intensified, slamming Caitriona against the door frame as the rolling motion combined with a horizontal jerking forward and back. The building, stressed in its foundation, bucked like a mechanized bull in a cowboy bar. The clamor of car alarms and sirens pierced the air, while all around her the cacophony of destruction polluted her senses. Shit, this is really bad. The thought filled her with dread.
Suddenly, Caitriona heard a terrifying wrenching noise. Glancing behind her, she found the source of the noise. The entire west side of the apartment building was collapsing, pulling residents, pets and bystanders into the burgeoning heap of rubble gathering below. Caitriona felt the ground give way beneath her. Clawing with her hands, she frantically tried to reach out and grab onto something in order to keep from slipping into the abyss below. Dust and plaster choked the air, burning her lungs and clouding her sight. She managed to pull herself onto a long, thin board as the floor below her gave out.
Caitriona heard the screams and could smell the blood that permeated the air. She tightened her grip on the thin board and wondered how long until she was pulled under the sliding apartment building. Another violent shake passed and she could hear metal scrape against metal as the support beams succumbed to the forces of nature. This time there would be nothing to hold her. She squeezed her eyes shut as two steel beams gave way and a large piece crashed inches from her. A metal rod that had been torn free pierced her thigh.
The force of the rod caused her to exhale sharply and cry out with pain, fear and frustration lacing her breath. Blackness threatened to engulf her as a wave of nausea overtook her. She tried once again to reposition her hands and reaffirm the tenuous hold she had on the board. The temblor had reluctantly ceased its shaking, and the sounds of death lingered in its place. From somewhere below her, a car alarm rent the evening air with its piercing wail. The pain in her leg was growing unbearable. She cried out again, even as she tried to suck air into her dust-filled lungs. Caitriona squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to block out the death and destruction that surrounded her. She knew she had to fight through the pain and pull herself to safety.
Sobbing in frustration and anger, she suddenly felt strong arms lift her from the debris, careful not to cause any more damage. Caitriona tried to focus on her rescuer, but, whether from the smoke, or from blurred vision, she couldn’t make out more than a tall, muscular stranger. She tried to assist in her rescue, but the tiny effort she put forth caused her to nearly pass out.
“Be still, lass.” The words were commanding, yet gentle. Caitriona glanced at her rescuer and noted a rather large Celtic knot peeking out from beneath his white collared shirt. She squeezed her eyes shut again; she had seen this symbol somewhere before. Caitriona tried to stand, but cried out when she noticed the rather large gaping hole in her thigh where the rod had penetrated. She sagged against the stranger as warm rivulets of blood ran down her leg.
“It’s a wee cut is all, lass,” he lied in a rich Celtic brogue. “Let’s get ye out of here and then see about bandaging that leg.” He gave her a reassuring smile as the apartment building again shifted beneath them. Caitriona fell back against the stranger’s arms, succumbing to a pain filled sleep, secure in the knowledge that he would indeed see her to safety.

Chapter Two

Do not dwell in the past; do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment.
Buddha

Caitriona awoke to bright lights on white walls. Instinctively, she shielded her vision from the intensity of the lights; the sensation reminding her of the striking noon-day sun after hours of the dull office lighting she had become accustomed to. She rubbed her eyes slowly, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, as she tried to adjust her eyes to the intensity of the lights.
She had no idea where she was. That much was clear. It looked as if she were in some sort of hospital, but the medical displays looked foreign to her. Think, she chided herself gently. She tried to recall the last few hours. She had been caught in an intense earthquake and must be in a hospital, perhaps an overflow room where they placed newer technologies for more serious injuries. She touched the bandage on her thigh; the memories flooding her mind like a tidal wave of pressure.
She should have died, and probably would have, had it not been for the stranger who carried her from the razed building. She hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, but he carried himself with a countenance few people possessed. His arms had been powerful and had easily borne her weight. His hair was black, thick, long and wavy, yet a few strands of silver were visible in the dark mane. She remembered a band of Celtic knots tattooed around his upper arm, which somehow complimented the man’s thick brogue.
God, why can’t I remember anything more, she thought with trepidation. Her thoughts were jumbled and none of the pieces seemed to fit together in the right order. Caitriona touched her forehead where a bandage was covering what she presumed would be a rather ugly wound. That could explain why I can’t remember anything, she said more to herself in an effort to ward off the unyielding panic that was threatening to overtake her. She raised herself cautiously to her elbows and looked around. The room was spacious, with two other hospital beds in somewhat close proximity. They were both empty. On the wall behind her, panels of lights kept a pulsating beat and provided the only sound in the otherwise noiseless room.
She placed her feet slowly on the floor and sat for a moment, squeezing her eyes shut, willing the blackness to disappear. As she regained her focus and the room quit spinning, she was dimly aware of a solitary figure working on one of the instrument panels in the outer room. The woman obviously hadn’t noticed her, or was unconcerned. Either way, Caitriona needed answers and this woman appeared to be her only source of information.
Pushing herself up from the sterile, cold medical bed, Caitriona braced herself as a wave of blackness passed over her, and the pounding in her head built to a throbbing crescendo. She became acutely aware that the panels behind her had stopped flashing and the room had become eerily quiet.
“You mustn’t try to stand yet,” said the solitary woman from across the room.
Caitriona pressed her fingertips to her temples. Some pain killers were definitely in order.
The woman came closer and placed a steadying hand on Caitriona’s arm. “Please, just try to rest. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.” The woman flashed Caitriona a sincere smile, showing even, beautifully white teeth. Although older than Caitriona by about twenty years, the woman had aged gracefully, with a complexion that belied her current age. Her eyes were an amazing color of aqua green, and heavy strawberry blonde curls hung halfway down her back. Effortlessly, she eased Caitriona back onto the exam bed.

Cultural Concessions

Cultural Concessions
https://amzn.to/2UlUxFj
Anissa Blume
Sam turned onto the shoreline road leaving the heavy congestion behind him. The drive seemed particularly bad today, he thought. Road construction, cars backed up at every signal light, and more commuters than usual jammed the intersections. He shifted into a cruising gear and took the curves and the hilly terrain of the ocean road with ease. Sam was grateful he was riding alone. He could drive his car as it was meant to be driven, connect with it; take on any road.
The stormy sky was without precipitation. Long sea grass tilted sideward, kissing the sand, the dark-colored waves were small and choppy, and a salt-scented sea breeze, strong enough to cause a chill, blew inland. Dark gray ominous clouds loomed over the ocean. Except for a few travelers, the area was deserted. There were other routes home, but today Sam felt the need to be by the sea. Nature had a way of getting his attention, especially when a storm was brewing. He turned into a parking spot partly covered by the drifting sand just along the entrance to the beach.
Outside the car, Sam stood for a moment looking at the weather moving over the water. He rolled up his sleeves enough to relax the crisp white shirt he’d worn to work and glanced at his gold watch which sparkled against his olive-colored skin; it had been a long day. He slipped off his loafers, needing a walk along the beach, wanting the sound of crashing waves to calm his ragged nerves.
Barefoot, he was reminded of the neglect. No socks, because this morning he couldn’t find any. At 5am the bedroom had been dark when he fished through his dresser drawer looking for a pair. He had been lucky to find clean underwear. Was it too much to hope for? He wondered. Clean socks where he could find them?
His days were extended; sometimes he would be gone for twelve or fourteen hours. He knew this was tough on Annalisa, but he was attentive when he was home, and he provided her with the best of everything. Lately though, there’d been change, complacency was seeping into their relationship - on Annalisa’s part.
The dark choppy sea mirrored Sam’s inner turmoil. Broken feelings. Sickened and disheartened; he had not felt like this any time in his life except after announcing his engagement to Annalisa. He recalled his mother speaking in broken English, “Bassam Kahlil, I worry what influence American culture will have on you, my only son. Tirelessly you have labored caring for the sick, so proud of you are your father and I.”
“Mother, I care deeply for Annalisa; she is a beautiful young woman. She is kind and loving, she’s a compassionate nurse, please respect my decision to marry,” he had said.
Sam ached as he remembered her teary eyes. She had nodded, then turned away.
Later that evening Sam had overheard his father speaking to his mother in the next room. “We have raised our son properly, he has proven himself through his work at Harvard, he’s a dedicated surgeon; we must put our trust in him.”
“I wish him to have a marriage such as ours,” his mother said, “the cultural differences will be troublesome.”
Slowly, a knot tightened in his stomach as he wondered if his parents’ concerns about him marrying Annalisa were coming to pass. Was this pain the same pain his parents had felt when they were concerned they’d lose him to a reckless American lifestyle? His culture had practiced arranged marriages for ages, certainly there were good reasons. He siphoned through his cluttered thoughts questioning if such a marriage would have been better for him. A large wave crashed upon a shoreline rock, spraying a cool mist of sea water upon his face, breaking his deep concentration.
Sam walked farther down the beach, feeling the cold sand rise between his toes with each step. Much of his struggle, he realized, was that his original culture was still a part of him even if he lived a largely American lifestyle. “You need an American name,” he recalled Annalisa saying. He had been happy with Bassam, even if it was ethnic, but he had shortened his name to Sam. Outwardly, it might seem that he had completely acclimated to Western culture, but his beliefs stemmed from his upbringing. Reviewing them now, he was convinced that his beliefs were right - at least for him. It was precisely those beliefs, he was sure, that kept families strong and intact. Self-discipline, self-sacrifice, and ongoing diligence were his core values. Nothing about him had changed, but the dynamics in his marriage had become dysfunctional. Annalisa knew exactly what he believed in and what he aspired to. That she had gone along with it and then acted the way she had been lately was insulting to him and to their marriage.
Ahead a flock of seagulls stood all facing the same direction. Sam went around them not wanting to disturb their time together. Gulls knew how to get along, knew their roles, he thought as he walked to the water’s edge.
Images of Annalisa looking at him proudly, as he read the official offer letter, came to him. “I’m the wife of the Chief Cardiac Surgeon,” she had said playfully before shouting “Let’s do it.” She’d thrown her arms around him with such excitement he’d had to calm her down and remind her that yes, the position was prestigious and the offer lucrative, but lots more responsibility would be put upon him. His hours would be longer; there would be more time apart. “I’ll be busy with school, I’ll be decorating our home, and I’ll get involved with charities,” she had said convincing him she was ready for the move. So what had happened? Had there been surprises Annalisa hadn’t anticipated?
Despite the gray weather, the shore was magnificent. Nature hadn’t skimped on delivering beauty to the California coastline, Sam thought, looking to the ocean one last time.
Back at his car he wiped the sand from his feet and ran his fingers through his windblown hair. The weather was steadily worsening, the sky becoming darker. He started his car, then fished through a box of CDs in search of a particular one, an intense violin concerto. The stringed instruments would deliver him the kind of supportive energy he needed in this contemplative mood. With a deep breath he slid the disk into the player and then slowly backed out of the parking spot.
Refreshed by the sea air, Sam’s thoughts darted at him like a mind attack. Clear, concise, poignant. He turned up the music again, his body absorbed the pulsating sounds of the fast and furious violins. The road curved, Sam gripped the wheel taking on the turn without slowing, the engine roared toward its own potential.
Annalisa had been free to take advantage of his higher earnings, work on something charitable, further her education, and take care of him. His stomach twisted and burned. He pushed down the gas pedal, negotiated the next curve, the road was still wide open. No, she hadn’t done anything charitable; she hadn’t returned to school, she no longer cared for him. Yoga, golf, women’s tennis, and the daily lunches with new friends, had filled her calendar with social engagements.
A flat section of the road was ahead; Sam took one hand from the wheel and cruised along having to pay less attention to the road for the time being. He softened the sound system. Sadness and anger tangled his emotions, but the ocean, the music, and the challenging drive had led him to a conclusion. The relationship must change, or he would end the marriage. Annalisa had to be more caring, and be like the woman she was when he married her.
He wanted the Annalisa who hugged him when he came home and cared that he was tired. He remembered her interest in his work, asking questions about surgeries. He loved how she volunteered at the animal shelter. He remembered her determination to duplicate his favorite dessert his mother had given her the recipe for. Eventually it had come out perfectly.
There were those nights when he’d come home late, physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted from hours of working in the operating room on desperately sick patients. His heart ached as he recalled her taking him in her arms, nurturing him with kindness and love, inviting him beneath the luxurious comforter on their freshly made bed where she would be openly ready for him. The lovemaking had been so exquisite, so passionate, that within minutes he’d felt the gnawing stress from the hectic day leave his body.
Sam sat forward, put both hands on the wheel and focused on his driving again. Ahead was the last rough section of the coastal road and he approached the sharpest hairpin turn without slowing. He took the bend with expertise, appreciating the perfect mechanics the car possessed. Every part of him strove for excellence and his relationship with Annalisa was no exception.
Divorce. It wasn’t something he believed in, but neither was remaining in a loveless marriage. How could he possibly stay paired with a superficial woman who didn’t appreciate him, a woman who disrespected him when she felt like it, and was driven by superficial friends? This new Annalisa wasn’t the woman he had committed to. Mediocrity sickened him. No way, he thought. No way would he stand for it. He sped down one last mountainous road, challenged himself to one more curve, and then drove into his own side of town.
In the distance he could see a light on in the house. He wondered what Annalisa would be immersing herself into today. Would it be fashion news, the Hollywood gossip page, or a menu of plastic surgery procedures from the local beauty doctor? His chest tightened.

Crossover, Texas

Crossover, Texas
https://amzn.to/2E7vYWO
Freia Hooper-Bradford
Chapter One

Sissy floored the old Cadillac and hit eighty. The flat Texas land, as monotonous the next ten miles as the last ten, whizzed past.
She reached for the chrome radio knob, turning up the volume of her favorite oldies station. The music differed from the western stations Rory listened to in his pickup. “What in hell is that?” he always complained when she tuned in oldies from her days of youth, desire, and romance.
“Uuuh…when we kiss, fire…” The provocative song reverberated from the car's speakers. How long ago had she felt fire when they kissed? Would she still be feeling fire if she was married to someone like Mr. Black? She had met Rory’s boss on the first day they arrived at the legendary Black Ranch. Mr. Black drove up in a fancy pickup, welcomed Rory and shook her hand. He looked expensive. She figured his boots and cowboy hat cost more than one month of Rory’s salary. Mr. Black’s eyes seemed to appraise her as if for a horse or cattle sale. She had been horrified when a hot flash turned her head into a flaming caldron, and hoped he hadn’t noticed. She considered ‘was Mr. Black as hot as he looked?’
Sissy eased off the accelerator when the car pushed ninety. Her thoughts that day had been foolish fantasies. If she used Rory’s words, she’d have to call them as useless as tits on a boar. That description would be just about right. Married forever, the time for fire and romance belonged to her youth.
She would surely hear gossip about Mr. Black tonight. Susan had called to introduce herself as soon as she and Rory moved into their little ranch house. Susan had explained that her hubby, Bob, worked for Mr. Black. “Bob drives them big cattle rigs. Hell, you’ll learn that everything about Mr. Black is big. Biggest damned ranch in Texas and Mr. Black’s suits are made out of hundred dollar bills. Working for the man gives our cowboys a hell of a big head. We gals got to stick together. Tell your hubby that we’re having a Tupperware Party. The boys don’t complain if they think we are being good little housewives,” Susan had reminded her.
Sissy pushed down on the accelerator. To hell with driving the speed limit. This part of Texas looked like an endless badland and, if she didn’t cross it fast, she would never cross it. She turned the volume up louder.
The evening breeze had finally cooled the choking heat to sultry warmth. Naturally, as soon as she and Rory moved to Texas, the damn air conditioning on the Caddie had quit again.
The Cadillac was her escape into another world; a different world from the dust, dirt, cattle, and chickens. The car had been twenty-nine years old when she bought it a few years ago. They could never have afforded a new car of any kind, especially a Cadillac. Rory approved only because the big car pulled a horse trailer easily.
Rory rarely drove it. “It’s a girl’s car;” he said, “all that chrome and stuff is for pimps and girls.” He drove the brown pickup with the noisy tailpipes, faded paint, and seat covers as rough as goat hair.
When Sissy drove through Crossover, the brick buildings on Main Street looked deserted. Susan had given her directions. “Past the light. It’s the only one. Cross the railroad tracks and turn right to where the semis and livestock rigs are parked. That’s my hubby Bob’s kingdom.”
Two pickups were in front of the house; both of them typical Texas wheels with gun racks over the back window. She had already learned that no self-respecting redneck in Texas drove a pickup without gun racks. The sensible economy car hiding under a blanket of dust she guessed was Susan’s car.
A woman with a thick mane of strawberry hair answered the door, holding a cigarette out of the way. “I’m Susan. Glad you made it.” She led the way to the living room. “Girls, meet Sissy. She’s our new Gallina. This is Jane, my dearest neighbor and partner in crime. Jane is married to Ted, the sheriff in our lovely cowpoke town of Crossover. Ted is a cowboy at heart, but these days his big gut gets in the way of riding a horse. He’s the only one of our husbands who doesn’t work for Mr. Black.”
“I beg your pardon,” Ted’s wife, Jane, wagged her finger, “Mr. Black owns this part of Texas. He also owns the Sheriff. My husband might as well work for Mr. Black.”
“And this is Laurie. She lives ten miles south of Black Ranch Headquarters. Hubby Jeff is responsible for a million miles of fences on the ranch.” Her hostess swept her hand toward a woman with a cherub face and doe eyes. “We got two more ladies, but they’re not here yet. Glad to have you as our new Gallina. One request; what we talk about here stays here.” Jane and Laurie nodded in agreement with Susan.
Sissy was about to ask what ‘Gallina’ meant when a woman with glossy black hair and a stunning face, reminiscent of the movie star Cher, opened the door and waved a greeting at everyone.
“Meet Sissy.” Susan inhaled and blew a ribbon of smoke toward the ceiling.
“Our new Gallina?” The Cher look-alike reached out with a manicured hand. “I’m Raina. I live on the Mudflats section on the Black Ranch, in the opposite direction from where you live. Welcome to Gallina night.” She flipped a bluish black strand of hair out of her face.
“You cut your hair.” Susan squashed her cigarette stub.
“Susan, I needed something new. Now that my book is published, I need a new image.”
Jane brushed her frizzy hair, held together with a blue ribbon. “Ted would have a fit if I cut my hair. Maybe I’ll shock the hell out of him by cutting it.”
Susan also brushed her vibrant strawberry hair, and Laurie caressed a strand of brown hair streaked with gray.
“Raina, what’s it like to be famous?” Laurie continued to play with her hair.
“I’m not famous. I just sold one book. It was enough to buy the red Triumph. It needs restoration, so it’s not worth much.”
“Looks like a dream car to me. Talk about dreaming, if you keep writing those racy sex scenes, you’ll get us all in trouble. Reading the book made me want to bed the first good looking guy.” Susan grinned, her face transformed into smoker’s skin with a myriad of hairline creases around her green eyes. “Was Shel the inspiration in those scenes? Got to admit, he’s still one sexy cowboy.”
Raina’s eyes admonished her friend. “Don’t you give our new Gallina the wrong idea. My husband is a pussy cat, not a devil rooster like the hunk in my book.”
“Sure, whatever you say.” Jane threw the author a look of disbelief. “By the way, do you ever let Shel drive your sports car? You zip around in that red bomb as if you’re a single girl.”
“Janie, are you envious?” Susan grasped her neighbor’s arm.
“Oh, hell, you have to admit we’re all envious. Money, fame, that sexy cowboy husband; but I’m mostly jealous that Raina can get the hell out of Crossover whenever she wants.”
Raina waved the comment away as if it was nothing new. “I’m still a cowboy’s wife, living her hubby’s life. We ride and work cattle along with the men in god-awful heat. Without a paycheck, I might add. We hunt mangy flea-bitten Texas deer on Saturday, barbecue on Sunday, and Monday to Friday we look forward to Saturday and Sunday.” Raina turned away from her friends. “By the way, I met your husband, Sissy. It’s Rory, right? He and my husband, Shel, seemed to hit it off. Both of them think cowboy is a religion. Our guys will surely invite Rory to their drinking, gun collecting male macho group, the Gallos Mezquino. Means roosters. But you got us. We Gallinas are family.”
“Rory didn’t mention anything about Gallos Mezquino.”
Jane started a gale of laughter. “Sissy, none of them are going to admit that they meet to drink, tell dirty jokes, and brag. The bucks they shoot get bigger every year. The boys pretend they meet for a legit reason that they call the Southern Baptist Gun Collector Association.” Her grin looked facetious. Jane was as thin as reed. Her tight black tee shirt was imprinted with white letters, ‘Itty Bitty Titties’.
“They baptize each other with beer.” Their hostess, Susan, passed a can of nuts and set a six-pack of Coors on the coffee table.
“Out with the old, in with the new.” Jane said, as she popped her beer can and held it in the air as a toast. “To our new Gallina.” She took a swig of beer, “And may Corissa enjoy her life.” Jane took a second swig.
“Corissa?” Sissy asked.
“She’s our old Gallina. She fled the ranch like a hunted prairie chicken.” Raina said, with a serious look on her face. “Corissa and her husband BJ lived in the ranch house you and Rory live in. BJ was a Black Ranch cowboy who had an affair with another cowboy’s wife, and got shot by the husband. The husband probably figured that he had the right to use old Mexican law to shoot BJ, but he went to prison all the same. Corissa fled to her family in Iowa. The shooting happened in your house. The gossip is that your house is cursed,” Raina gave a reassuring smile to Sissy. “But I wouldn’t give it a second thought, if I was you.”
“I live in a house where someone was murdered?” Sissy said incredulously as memories from her past crowded into her head.
“The curse is just gossip. It was a crazy crime of passion,” Susan added, shrugging off the tragedy.
Sissy nodded slowly; the word crazy struck a chord. She considered telling the girls about Rory’s jealous streak, but didn’t want to make Rory look bad, maybe dangerous, before they even got to know him. “So I’m replacing an old Gallina? I still don’t know what that name means,” she said, deciding not to mention Rory.
Susan drained her beer and looked at the can as if it should not be empty. “Gallina is a hen. Pronounced guyeena, spelled g-a-l-l-i-n-a. We are the old stewing hens. We have to stick together. The women who live and work at Black Ranch Headquarters have their own little clique. We couldn’t gossip about the Blacks if they were around. The other wives live on sections of the ranch too far away. Hell, Raina, Laurie, and you have to drive over thirty miles. Our men owe us time to visit. They dragged us way out here so they can ride in the wild mesquite empire and pretend it’s a hundred years ago.” Susan smiled and tossed the empty can.
Sissy thought for a moment. “That’s what attracted Rory. But you live in town, Susan.”
“Crossover’s not much of a town, girlie. Bob would rather be out at your place with nothin’ around except brush, scrub grass, and bawlin’ cattle. Me, I bathe in the dust from the auction yard and get drunk by just smelling the booze from the fermented corn in the grain elevator. And watch out for the postmistress, she’s as snoopy as a pig’s snout. Don’t tell her nothin’ you don’t want her to put on the bulletin board.”
“Got it.” Sissy lifted her beer can. She hadn’t expected the beer party, but then she felt a connection she hadn’t expected either. She wouldn’t tell Rory about the beer.
Susan brought another six-pack and popped the lid on a can. “See, Miss New Gallina, we also have a husband forum, and that includes Mr. Black. It ain’t something we want spread around Headquarters. Mrs. Black is a fancy woman and she don’t need to know about certain things.”
“Here, here.” Laurie raised her new can of Coors. “On that note, where's Bob, Susan?”
“Bob is hauling cattle to Montana or he’d be at the Locoweed Cantina.”
“Ted is in Corpus Christi at a friend’s, reloading shells for hunting season.” Jane pointed to a photo of five burly men holding guns, next to a dead buck with wide antlers. “My sheriff husband, Ted is the one with blond hair. Susan’s hubby Bob is the one with black hair and the wild mustache. Laurie’s Jeff is the skinny, bald one. The one that looks like a western movie star is Raina’s for-better-and-worse half. Stag is the one with the red hair and freckles. I took that picture and made them take off their cowboy hats so I could see their faces. You should have heard them complain.”
“Who is Stag?” Sissy felt Jane’s undercurrent of discontent and pride at the same time. Didn’t she feel that way about Rory?
“Stag is Annie’s husband.” Jane replied; then addressed Susan. “By the way, Susie, did Annie call?”
“No. She’s cow-towing to Stag again instead of leaving the asshole.” Susan gave a shrug.
“Is Annie a Gallina?”
“Yep. Annie is our country version of Marilyn Monroe. Her figure and face don’t show her age. Chris Black would have had her in bed except Annie is too scared to give him a second look. Stag is the accountant for the Black Ranch. He is the only cowboy with a college degree. You’d think Stag would be on top of the world. He ropes calves on weekends and has a home in the subdivision with the fancier houses, but he gets roaring drunk and beats Annie.”
Laurie shook her head. “I hope Annie is okay.”
“Wouldn’t Ted have to arrest Stag for beating his wife?”
“Sissy, good ol’ boys live in Crossover where men wear big belt buckles and women know their place. Even if Annie made out a complaint, what’s going to happen? Ted will ask Stag to keep him company for a night in an unlocked jail cell. And then what happens to Annie after that?”
This time, Sissy felt an undercurrent of anger connecting her new friends during the long pause that followed.
“Laurie, where is Jeff?” Raina interrupted the silence.
“The Landing. Where else? My hubby is probably picking up a floozy right now.” Laurie replied, an air of resignation in her voice. She let out a laugh to lighten the mood.
Raina laughed with the others. “Sissy, the Landing is the bar out by the lake. It’s full of stinky guys bragging about catching big fish while they keep an eye out for lonely fishing widows in their campers, so they can sink their hooks into them.”
“The bar right here in beautiful downtown Crossover is the Locoweed Cantina. It also ain’t no palace.” Susan said, as she returned from the kitchen. “Bob used to warm the bar stools there, when we had our babies. Excuse me, my babies. Bob figured the babies belonged to me until they could drive a Mack truck.”
“Our son, Colin, was Rory’s little cowboy” Sissy said.” He and his Daddy were inseparable. Colin learned to ride and handle a horse when he was four. Rory was disappointed when Colin decided to become a teacher, instead of carrying on the cowboy tradition.” Sadness seeped into her head and chest, as she thought of all the things that could have been. The mood in the room seemed to drop as all the ladies considered their families.
Sissy watched Susan lower her head, her strawberry hair hiding her face. “Those days before the babies. When Bob was still sexy.”
Raina matched Susan’s melancholy tone. “That first meeting when your eyes lock, your legs get wobbly and your head is spinning. That is always the best. The next time is never as good.” Raina, smiled and tried to lighten the mood, “Talk about romance. You think Mr. Black has a new honey? I haven’t heard anything lately.”
“Mr. Black is married, isn’t he?” asked Sissy
“So?” Susan replied, “Mr. Black playing around has been ranch gossip as long as I can remember. Why do you think Chris Black hires young women at his hacienda at Headquarters? Most of his horse trainers, the ground crew and the cowboys working at Headquarters are young men with young wives. All potential conquests, right?” Susan paused and took a swig of beer, “Mr. Black doesn’t mind hiring older men with their older wives for the sections at the ranch where you, Raina, and Laurie live. Those places are far from Headquarters. That’s not to say that Mr. Black wouldn’t jump at the opportunity to screw a good looking Gallina.”
Rory had not mentioned that kind of gossip about Mr. Black. “Isn’t he worried a husband will come after him?”
“Mr. Black is Mr. Texas. Nobody comes after Mr. Black.” Raina drew an exclamation mark with one finger in the air.
“If Bob caught me playing around with his boss, he'd kick my ass all the way out of Texas.” Susan added.
“Girls, save the dreaming. We’re too old. Chris Black is thirty something or maybe early forties. He doesn’t want to go to bed with a dried up old hen.” Laurie shrugged, despite the look of possibility in her eyes.
“We are not that old. We still look damn good, if I may say so.” Jane said as she flipped a strand of her frizzy hair. “I happen to think none of us are over the hill. Raina, you still look like the fabulous Cher even with your shorter hair. My dear neighbor, Susan; look at your boobs and that sexy strawberry hair. Me, I’m too skinny to have a lot of wrinkles or a double chin. Annie is our cow-town Marilyn Monroe. Laurie, color your hair and you’d be a knockout with your doe eyes, and our new Gallina; she’s Raquel Welch.”
“Jane, get real. I’m no Raquel Welch.” Sissy laughed.
“I’m serious. If we fix ourselves up with lots of make-up we are still knockouts. The real Raquel Welch is around our age, and every man hyperventilates when they see her. How old are you, Raquel?”
“Forty-nine.” Sissy did not feel like laughing this time.
“And Susie?”
“Fifty real soon. You know that, Janie.”
“Cher?”
“Fifty-one and counting backward.” Raina laughed.
“Wish I was, but I have to add two years.” Laurie pulled on a wrinkle next to her mouth.
“I’ll be fifty-four soon. Hell, I’d bet we’d be better in bed than Mr. Black’s young chicks,” said Jane, defiantly.
“Well then, Ladies, I have a proposition.” Raina got up. “Let’s see which one of us can get Mr. Black into bed.”
“You are not serious.” Susan grimaced at her friend.
“Serious as hell. What do we have to lose? Soon we’ll be more winkled, stooped, and dried up. Our husbands don’t appreciate our sexuality anymore. We raised our kids. The husbands and kids don’t need us the way they did back then. We deserve one last fling. Don’t tell me that you all don’t have the hots for Chris Black.”
Raina held out her hand. “It’s a deal. Let’s all shake on it.”
Chapter Two

At only half past nine, the temperature had already climbed toward ninety. Sissy blew at a strand of hair that had escaped a pink curler and wiped sweat from her forehead.
She had not expected the knock on the door and straightened from her bent position. Rory’s imposing boss, Chris Black, peered past the screen door until she motioned for him to come inside.
“Hi Sissy. Looks like you have your work cut out for you.”
“Today is wash day.” Damn. She sounded as if she was the maid.
“Now that you’re settled in, I just wanted to check how you are doing. I want my employees and their families to be comfortable. That aside, I wanted to make sure you have all you need before I leave for California.”
“Thank you. Rory likes the ranch. He’s always wanted to work on a big outfit like this.
“Do you ride, Sissy?” asked Chris.
“I do. My horse is the bay in the corral.” If only Chris Black would leave. He must think her the frumpiest wife on his ranch. Right now, he might as well be twenty and she eighty.
“If you’d like, you can help us sort cattle this afternoon.” His hint of a smile did not reveal what he thought. He tipped his hat, smiled again, and turned on his boot heels toward the door, leaving her in the steaming room in the midst of two piles of laundry on the blue linoleum floor.
She leaned against the wall of the laundry room and closed her eyes, taking her back to that one unspoiled afternoon when she had fixed her gaze at the vast blue sky and whipped cream clouds drifting above an ink tinted ocean while she let sand sift through her fingers.
She thought he had left her, but when she opened her eyes, Chris Black was right there, kneeling between her legs, the softness of his mustache stroking her thigh. He had been there all along, floating like a dream until she woke and knew the dream was not a dream after all. Sleeping, dreaming, waking— she could feel his longing as strong as her desire.
She stretched luxuriously, her body aching for his warm hands and tongue. A pool of suntan oil lazily collected in her belly button. Oil shimmered on her bronzed skin. Beads of perspiration slipped like pearls from mounds and dips of her body. Her heart beat in rhythm with the pounding surf.
His soft mustache left her thigh and she felt him sliding down toward her feet. For a few heartbeats, she thought he might leave, leave her there in the sand to wither away with a longing that would haunt her until death. Instead, his fingers brushed away the sand from her feet. She wiggled just a little bit when his tongue tickled the sole of her foot. She made herself lie still. Nothing, absolutely nothing should interfere with the electric charge in every cell of her skin. She felt his breath on her ankle, his lips moving ever so slowly along her leg until his tongue was seeking the inside of her knee. He lingered in that most tender spot until she felt his mustache caress her thigh, at first above the knee, then higher and higher, but he did not caress the one spot where her whole womanhood centered. Not yet, not yet, but, oh god, oh god, how long could she wait? Electric currents zapped her groin. Maybe she would die of an over-speeding heart before he could pull off her bikini bottom. When he did pull off the skimpy garment he did so with a single yank. She wanted to grab his hand and make him feel her swollen wet pussy, make him want to enter her with his rock hard cock. Was he worried that someone would see them? Was that the reason he had not taken her right here?
She did not care! Her whole body demanded more and more of him. Nothing mattered except all of him belonging to her. She thought it total torment when his tongue continued to lick, stroke, and slip on the oiled skin toward her navel. His pace was agonizingly slow, as he licked and kissed the route to the bottom of her breasts. She arched her back to entice his tongue and lips onto her nipples. She wanted to scream, wanted him to yank off her bikini top and throw it into the ocean. How she needed him to ravage her breasts with his mouth and tongue. Oh, and how she needed him to push his manhood deep inside of her throbbing flesh. Instead, she lay helpless with ecstasy when he kissed his way over her bra with a gentle bite of her nipples pointing through the fabric, before his hot breath caressed her throat. On his journey with his tongue and lips, he had slid his cock along her leg. She moaned, deep, guttural, like an animal on the path of destruction when she felt the wetness of his tongue on her ear and the tip of his cock teasing the entrance to her distended cunt. She felt frantic, enough so that she roughly clamped both legs around his back, to force his cock deep inside. Now he belonged to her, all of him…
Sissy opened her eyes when the dog barked frantically at something outside. The damn dog had dragged her back to reality.
As the last washing machine load agitated, Sissy saddle soaped Rory's manure stained boots. Yesterday she had complained to Rory about the dirty boots that messed up the porch and added that cleaning the house was damned hard in the sweltering heat. Rory had responded by saying “How’d you like to be out on a horse in this crappy heat all day?” and the conversation ended.
Of course, Chris Black’s home would be air-conditioned and his wife didn’t have to put up with a swamp cooler sounding like an aircraft engine. Surely, Chris Black’s wife had maids, cooks, dishwashers, and someone to shine thousand-dollar alligator boots. Rory described the Black home at Headquarters as an enormous hacienda.
After she threw the next load into the dryer, Sissy changed from her robe to a pair of jeans and a white shirt, tying the shirt at the waist. She pulled the pink curlers from her hair and fluffed it with a big-toothed comb. She painted her face with black eyeliner, emerald eye shadow, and lipstick the color of wet fuchsias to match her fingernails.
This time she approved of her image in the mirror. She shook her head, her abundance of red curls cascading over her forehead and along her cheekbones, now highlighted with Revlon's deep mauve. “Not bad,” she said to the mirror. Rory never appreciated that she still tried to look sexy. Would Mr. Black? Raina’s bet belonged into another world, but what was wrong with an admiring glance she so longed for? How much longer before men did not notice her anymore?
Sissy turned sideways in front of the mirror. Her jeans stretched around her rear as trim and tight as in her teenage years. “Hmm,” she said to the mirror again and pursed her lips. She startled when she heard the utility door slam. Rory had come home early for lunch. His high-heeled cowboy boots clunked across the kitchen floor.
“Hi, I just started fixing lunch,” she called and hurried into the kitchen, not wanting Rory to catch her primping. She knew his response too well. What the hell are you getting all gussied up for?
“I'm already tired. Damn, it's hot out there.” Rory said, as he pulled off his cowboy hat, tromping back to the utility room to leave his sweaty hat on the washing machine.
Sissy set out bologna, bread, pickles, mayonnaise, and ice tea.
“Mr. Black stopped by at the far water tank. He'll be back after lunch. We’ll cut out a few of those cattle he wants to ship. Why don't you saddle up and help?” Rory asked, as he fixed a sandwich, double-decker everything. She could smell the hint of sweat from where the hatband had left a dirty mark.
“Sure,” she shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind giving my horse a workout.” At least that would give her a chance to take her mind off this morning’s fantasy. “Oh, by the way, Mr. Black stopped by here earlier too. I forgot to tell you.” Sissy thought back to the fantasy and smiled to herself.
“I still can’t believe our luck getting hired on this outfit. Been dreaming about working on a ranch like this since I was a kid. Don’t like the damned heat, but hell, that don’t last all year. We live kind of far out. At least you met some of the gals. Could get a might lonely out here without women friends. You should meet the crew at Black’s Headquarters. A lot of the families been there for generations. Why don’t you get to know those gals? You might get to know Mrs. Black. She’s all class,” said Rory.
Of course, she would never tell him that the Gallinas excluded Headquarter women. “I like the women I met. We had a nice evening.”
“You still ought to get to know Mrs. Black. I read in the paper she’s involved in a lot of charities. Her name is Estelle Carmen Estaban Black. Don’t that sound fancy? Anyway, get to know her. You never know what that might lead to.” Rory attacked a second sandwich. They ate in silence until he pushed himself out of the chair. He groaned his usual aches and pains groan. “I'm going to lie down for a while.”
She left the dishes in the sink for later. The house was far too hot to wash them. Instead, she hurried to catch her bay horse to saddle up before Mr. Black arrived. At the thought of Chris Black, she noticed that tingle of anticipation.
By two that afternoon, the heat radiated like a broiler oven, blistering everything not hiding in the shade. Dust in the corral stirred up with every movement of the horses and milling cattle.
Sissy did not need to spur her horse. He had already anticipated the cow’s moves, lowering his haunches, sprinting in front of the cow to head her off to the gate that Rory guarded. Rory stepped aside to allow the cow to run past him in a panic before he closed the gap to the rest of them intent on following.
“One more.” Chris Black pointed to a cow in the midst of the herd. She guided her horse into the restless bunch until he faced the cow. Her horse knew this was the one she wanted. He pinned his ears back and headed the cow away from the rest of the cattle to Rory's open gate.
“That's it,” Mr. Black called, “let's load ‘em up.”
Two Mexican ranch hands drove the cattle through a chute into the stock trailer. She rode ahead of Chris Black, tossing her head to loosen her damp hair. She could feel him watching her. He had been watching her from the moment he arrived.
The cattle stomped into the trailer and one of his ranch hands pushed the sliding locks over the gate. Chris Black’s eyes seemed to roam past her face to her hips and her tight fitting jeans.
“Thanks for the help.” He met her eyes for one heartbeat before loading his horse into a fancy horse trailer, as expensive as his deluxe pickup.
Sissy nodded with an ephemeral smile before turning to help Rory herd the remaining cattle back to pasture. Rory had not seen the smile that she hid behind her throbbing heart.

Cowboys in Charge

Cowboys in Charge
https://amzn.to/2Xmi6z0
Starla Kaye
Snowed in with Her Cowboy

“If you won’t quit your job, at least take a couple of weeks off before Christmas.” James walked into the bedroom carrying a cup of coffee for the woman he loved, the woman who frustrated the hell out of him lately. “There’s no way you can keep the community commitments you’ve made and work forty plus hours a week. You’re already dragging around, cranky.”
Kelly peeked at him from the walk-in closet, a frown marring her pretty face. “I don’t want to talk about this again. I’m not quitting.”
“You don’t even like working there,” he reminded her. How many times had she complained over the last six months about her impossible-to-please boss, about the other women in the office who were always trying to backstab one another. She’d taken the job at Smithson’s Architects because she didn’t want her skills as an architect to fade away. He hadn’t liked her going back to work, but he’d wanted her to be happy. She wasn’t, though, which meant they weren’t happy.
“Kelly, honey…” He hesitated because he didn’t want to fight with her, especially before she went into Kansas City for another long day of work.
“Don’t ‘Kelly, honey,’ me!” She stepped back into the closet. “We are not discussing this again! I’m not doing this to trample on your ego, cowboy. This isn’t about you. It’s about me.”
After three years of marriage, he had a pretty good handle on his wife. She liked her independence and he gave her as much as possible. She spoke her mind without much thought first, which he also tolerated for the most part. She was easily twice as smart as him in many ways, which he admired. Her biggest flaw was once she made a decision, she stuck to it, even if that decision proved to be a bad one. Like this job. He was tired of watching her come home exhausted from the tension of a frustrating day at the office. He worried about her on the hour drive back to the ranch.
“You’re wrong.” He set the steaming cup of coffee on the dresser next to the door. “This is about both of us. You’re my wife, dammit. It’s my job to watch out for you, to step in when you’re—”
“Watch it, macho boy!” She stormed out of the closet and tossed a skirt and blouse on the rumpled bed. Her brown eyes sparked with fire as she faced him. “I don’t have time for you to go all Man in Charge on me this morning. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.”
He curled his hands into fists at his sides. She’s tired. She’s stressed. But, damn, so am I! “Watch yourself. You’re pushing this old boy right to his limits.”
Her eyes continued to flash with irritation, her posture rigid. Then slowly she seemed to go limp. Her lower lip quivered. Tears glimmered in those weary eyes. All of the spit and fire went right out of her. “James,” she whispered.
What the hell? Her sudden change surprised him as much as it worried him. He moved in front of her, his irritation gone. He wrapped his arms around her and clutched her to him. He could stand a lot of rough things in life, but the sight of his woman in tears gut punched him. Tears after he spanked her for one reason or another was different, those he expected and understood. For any other reason, though, they unmanned him, made him feel helpless.
“Baby, I’m sorry.” He stroked her bare back, smoothed his hand over the wavy mass of long dark hair. Its silkiness, its sweet scent always got to him. But not anymore than the feel of her much smaller body in only lacy bra and panties did. His erection beneath his jeans immediately pressed between them. “It’ll be okay. I’ll make it okay.” How, he didn’t know.
She snuggled even closer, trembling. “I don’t deserve you.”
These highs and lows in her mood, her tiredness, her lack of appetite suddenly reminded him of something his brother-in-law had once said about James’ sister. “A pregnant woman can really try a man’s patience sometimes.” His heart pounded and he fought to keep his excitement under control. He’d wanted this for so damn long. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.
She stiffened. “What?” She shoved him away. Her plump breasts heaved in anger. “Of course I’m not pregnant! Why would you even think that?”
While disappointment crawled through him, she stomped toward the dresser and jerked out a slip. She tossed it on the bed beside her clothes. “I don’t want kids right now. Maybe never. We’ve talked about this.”
They had, before they got married and many times since then. She was great with kids; she’d make a good mother. But her complicated family history kept her from wanting to have a child. He’d tried to be patient, and hoped she would change her mind. Again, discontent and hurt spread through him. His patience was wafer thin. She didn’t like her job. If she stayed home she could try that quilting stuff she’d talked about wanting to do. Or she could… He didn’t know what else, but anything had to be better than working where she did now. And if she stayed home, maybe she’d soften toward the idea of having kids.
Her face was pinched tightly as she met him eye to eye. “Get that thought out of your head right now.” When he started to protest, she forged onward, “Don’t even try to deny it. You still think having me run around here bare foot and pregnant is the answer to my problem. God, that’s so chauvinistic!”
Now he stood rigidly, tired to death of her calling him that. “It’s not wrong for me to want children with you. We’d make great parents.”
“You might, but I won’t.” The words came out briskly, yet he heard the pain and the fear in her voice. She was afraid to take the chance.
He shoved a hand through his hair. He just didn’t know how to get through to her about this subject. She wasn’t anything like her pitifully selfish mother. No matter how many times he tried to tell her that, she resisted. They’d discussed this last week and she’d almost left him. He’d been biting his tongue and acting as understanding as he could since then. No way was he losing her, even if he had to give up the idea of having kids.
Frustration made him reckless. “You’re PMSing, aren’t you?” He groaned at his stupidity. What an idiot.
Her eyes narrowed. “Because I’m not the sweet, biddable little woman you think I should be?” She snorted. “So what is your excuse for the changes in your attitude lately? Grouchy one minute, walking away the next. All kissy face one minute, turning away the next. Maybe you are the one PMSing.”
He drew in deep, steadying breaths. This was really not going well. He should have gone on out to do his chores instead of bringing her a cup of coffee. Coffee that had probably turned cold by now. His efforts to be patient with her and not force another argument were straining things between them. His wanting to be tender with her and not pushy when she didn’t seem to want to pursue making love had also failed. Enough!
“We need to deal with this tension between us.” He glanced at the bed.
“We are not having sex right now. Just forget that nonsense.” She shifted toward the attached bathroom.
James grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. “No, we aren’t making love right now.” He purposely didn’t say ‘having sex’ because that word choice irritated him. “But I’m going to take care of someone’s attitude problem.”
He tugged her with him to the bed, even as she attempted to dig in her heels on the rug. “This is happening, honey. Your resisting is only going to make it more unpleasant.”
Kelly’s heart pounded, her whole body thrummed in anticipation. Her husband was going to spank her.
She’d pushed him to the breaking point this time. How had this gotten so out of control? She hadn’t meant to attack him. Her head hurt, her heart hurt. Everything in her life seemed to be wrong at the moment. Her job. Their marriage. It was Christmas time and she usually loved this part of the year. This year it was yet another burden to bear.
He sat down on the side of the bed and drew her to his side, jerking her from her musings. “This isn’t necessary,” she said and looked anxiously at him. The sad expression on his ruggedly handsome face made her feel even worse. She loved this man with all of her heart, and yet lately all she seemed to do was argue with him and cause him pain.
“I think it is.” He was gentle but determined as he guided her over his muscled thighs. “It’s been a while since I’ve burned your butt. Usually it calms you down. I’m hoping it will again.”
Sadly, he was right. A spanking took her mind away from her tendency to blow an issue out of proportion, which she realized she was doing now. It gave her something else to think about.
Resigned to the situation, she wriggled forward until she could put her hands on the rug. Her bottom rested on his right leg; her mound pressed against his jeans, separated only by the thin panties. Even knowing what was about to happen, her body tingled with awareness, longing.
“I’ve got to work today. Can’t you wait until tonight?” she asked without much hope of changing his mind. He never did once he’d decided to spank her.
One of his hands eased the panties off her buttocks and she tensed, getting her answer without him speaking it.
She would have to deal with a sore ass. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to suffer a spanking before work and then spend the day squirming on her chair. Still, she would rather not have had to experience it again.
“Do you know why you’re getting spanked?” He settled his left forearm over her back and lightly tapped one bare cheek with his other hand.
Her buttocks quivered, clenched at the touch. Yes, she knew why. No, she didn’t want to explain it. Instead she grumbled, “I don’t have time to drag this out.” She could imagine his frown at her not responding properly. He liked to go through this whole why thing ad nauseum, be sure she understood what she’d done wrong. Once the discussion part was over he would remind her that he only disciplined her for her own good. Uh-huh. Then came the spanking.
She felt the tension in his body; heard his teeth grinding in annoyance. But she wasn’t in the mood for his routine. “Just spank me like you think I need,” she blustered.
The smack that landed sent her jerking forward, had the air gasping out of her. “Okay! I’m sorry!” she cried. “I know this isn’t how you like to do this. But I have to get to work.”
He was quiet for a few seconds and then he blew out a frustrated breath. He lifted his arm from her back. “All right, I guess this can wait until tonight.”
Tonight? Dread this all day? No, thank you. “No, no, no,” she protested, craning her head to look back at him. “I’m already here in position, ready to accept the spanking. I don’t want to be thinking about it all day. Just do it.”
A vein pulsed in his neck and his brow furrowed. “You’re awful pushy this morning.” He nodded. “We’ve done this a time or two before you went to work. Guess you’ll be able to deal with a sore butt this time, too.”
She wanted to go back to his offer of doing this later, but it was too late. There would be no change of plans now. Disgusted with having pushed him to this, she lowered her head as he held her in place again. She loved and respected him, trusted him. She’d agreed to this kind of marriage, with occasional discipline.
“Lie still and we’ll get this chore taken care of right quick.”
The “right quick” part wasn’t necessarily a good thing. She braced herself and gritted her teeth, determined to take her spanking with as much grace as possible.
With wicked aim, he sent smack after smack down to her vulnerable bottom. There wasn’t time to breathe between the swats or to do more than wriggle in discomfort. It didn’t take long before he got her to the point of understanding—or so he called it. He burned her bottom until she couldn’t lie still, until she couldn’t keep stoically quiet. He took her right to the point where she swore between sobs, “I’ll…I’ll behave better! I promise! I promise!”
A minute later she stood in front of him, between his legs, holding her hot, stinging bottom. Yes, she would have a tough day ahead, but at least she didn’t have to spend all day thinking about going over his knee tonight. She gently rubbed at the sting, which didn’t really help.
His expression softened as he watched her, satisfied that he’d done what he’d thought necessary. He never apologized for spanking her, but she knew he didn’t enjoy doing it.
He reached up to thumb away the tears still trickling down her face. “Are we okay?”
“I’ve got a burning ass, but…” She sniffled and gave him a wobbly smile. “But, yes, we’re okay.” She would be sore today, but she didn’t feel as testy anymore.
* * * *
James stood by the fireplace and sadness moved over him. Where had the time gone this month? This year? Christmas was only a couple of days away. He and Kelly hadn’t fought since the spanking. She’d settled down, but her normal Christmas vigor was missing.
He stared at the Christmas tree he’d cut down this morning and hauled back to the house with the help of his ranch foreman. Tom hadn’t said a word as they’d put the tree up and then toted box after box of decorations down from the attic. This was the first year she hadn’t picked out a tree and helped him with the hauling and the decorating. It didn’t feel right to do this alone but they needed a tree. He knew how busy she was, how stressed she’d been. If all he could do to help her was put up their tree, he was more than glad to do it.
He stepped back to study the tree that sat by the stone fireplace. Had he hung too many lights? Not enough? Had he put on the ornaments she liked best? This wasn’t his expertise, but he wanted to do it right for her. He wanted to take at least one of the usual tasks she performed at Christmas time off of her shoulders.
She’d spent several evenings this past week baking cookies for the ranchers’ party and another one helping wrap presents for the community party last weekend. Plus they’d gone caroling with their church group one night and gone to a couple of get-togethers with neighbors. Between those long nights she’d worked extra hours at her job and squeezed in some shopping, which he’d done very little of. He didn’t want to disappoint her, but he hadn’t known what she wanted this year. Usually she gave him all kinds of hints. This year she hadn’t said a word, not left one note around for him to find.
The pine scent drifted around him, made him miss Kelly. They hadn’t had another argument in days. She’d been calmer since then, as usually happened after he helped tone down the craziness in her behavior. But he’d been right about the PMSing thing, so they hadn’t made love yet. Fact was, he worried about them. She hadn’t said anything, but he felt an uncomfortable distance between them. He wasn’t sure they were okay, even if she’d told him they were after he’d burned her sweet ass. He was concerned.
He glanced out the window overlooking the ranch yard and frowned. It had started snowing not long after she’d left for the city this morning. He’d spent most of the day worrying about her. She was a good driver, but you never knew what could happen driving in snow. What he should have done was go into the city and get her. She’d probably have been irritated with him. No “probably” to it, she’d have been pissed. How many times had she told him, “I can take care of myself”? For the most part, she could. Still, with this weather, this time was different.
His cellphone rang and he blinked back to the moment. He pulled it from the holder on his belt. Seeing her number, his heart pounded. “Are you all right?” he asked in a rush.
“Yes, but...” She hesitated and he thought he might have a stroke while he waited for her to continue.
“But what?” He strode out of the great room and headed for his coat in the entry area.
“I left work early. I would have been home by now, but I sort of slid off the side of the highway.”
He froze, felt the blood draining from his face. Oh, God. “Are you hurt?” He mentally kicked himself for letting her leave this morning when he’d heard on the news that snow was headed their way.
“I’m fine. Just have a bruise on my forehead from where I hit my head on the steering wheel. No big deal.” She drew in a breath and said warily, “A man stopped to help me back onto the road. But there was some damage to my car. My front bumper hit a big rock in the ditch. It’s not too bad, though, I promise.”
He punched Speaker and set his phone down on the hall table while he pulled his heavy coat on.
He didn’t know exactly where he was going, but he needed to get to her. In his near-panicked state, he recalled what she’d just said, heard the worry in her voice. “I could care less about the damn car, Kelly. You are all that matters to me.”
She gave a weak sob and he felt almost certain it was one of relief. The thought that she might think he would be angry with her hurt him. Nothing mattered more to him than her. Nothing. Had he not made that clear to her already? Well, he damn sure would.
“Are you on your way now?” Was she talking to him on her phone while driving in this snowstorm? He almost snapped at her about that, but caught himself. She was driving, but he had to let that go. She was determined to get home to him. It humbled him. “Pull over, honey. Tell me where you are. I’m coming for you.”
She gave a quick sniff, and he knew she was trying to cover up that she was crying. “I’m only a few miles away. I…I can make it.”
He felt panicked, wanted to insist she wait for him to come get her. But there had been more than stubbornness in her tone. She needed to do this, make her way home on her own. He pulled in a steadying breath. It would be as hard as hell, but he would let her do it. “I’ll be watching for you.”
Kelly had never in her life been as scared as when her Honda CRV went into a skid on a patch of ice. Thank God she’d been almost crawling along the highway, like all of the other cars. The SUV had spun in a slow circle and then slid down the side of the road, stopping at the bottom of the short ditch where she’d hit a good-sized boulder. Her heart was still racing. She’d been fortunate one of the other cars had pulled over and a kindly older man had helped her. He’d offered to follow her home, but she’d told him she could manage.
It was such a relief to finally turn onto the gravel road leading to the ranch. Tears streamed down her face. Almost there. James would be waiting for her, watching from the porch no doubt. She’d heard the anxiety in his voice and had known he wanted to come get her. He was always so determined to be the strong one, to take care of her.
Including spanking her when she got all snappy with him, or when she stubbornly went against him for whatever reason, or when she did something stupid. Like going to work when she’d heard on the early morning news about the snow coming and ignoring what the smart thing would have been to do: call in and say she wouldn’t be in today. If he wanted to turn her over his knee, she’d go willingly. She’d been stupid, endangered herself, gotten her car damaged, and—worst of all—needlessly worried her husband.
She’d made some decisions in the last few days, hopefully good ones. She just hoped that she hadn’t waited too long. If she lost him because of the horrible person she’d turned into lately… But he’d sounded so worried about her. He loved her. She would hold firmly to that belief and if necessary, do whatever she had to in order to make sure he still did. Her Christmas gifts to him this year were a bit out of the ordinary, but, hopefully, would be exactly what he wanted.
With a sigh and a silent prayer of thanksgiving, she turned into the ranch yard. Every light on the barn and other buildings and the house were on, making her feel welcome. The dark afternoon no longer seemed so depressing. And there on the porch, just as she’d suspected, stood James. Her big, sometimes gruff, cowboy. So much love filled her that she thought her heart just might burst with it. How had she ever been lucky enough to find him? Why he’d wanted her, stuck by her, still wanted her, amazed her. He didn’t care about her past or the kind of horrible family she came from. None of that stuff mattered to him. How many times had he told her that? How many times had she been unable to believe him?
She pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. She watched him stride down the porch steps and walk quickly toward her, oblivious to the foot of snow he tromped through. He focused on her, only her. Her stomach fluttered. Her pulse raced. All she needed for the rest of her life was this very special man.
He tugged the car door open and leaned inside to kiss her. She trembled as his big, cold hands cupped her face. She kissed him back, put her hands on his beard-roughened face. Everything she’d gone through on this horrible day was forgotten. She was home now. With James.
He inched back and then before she knew what he was going to do, he scooped her up and out of the car. It wasn’t the first time he’d carried her, but it was the most precious time. The tender look in his eyes, the sheen of tears he’d held back because of her, touched her to the depth of her soul.
As he nudged the car door shut with his hip, she said quietly, “I love you. I know I don’t say that very often, but I do. I love you.”
He tromped back through the snow, up the steps, and into the house. He held her close and didn’t seem to care at all that snow was melting off his boots onto the tiled floor. “You don’t have to say the words, honey, I know.”
“But you deserve the words,” she protested, feeling guilty. She rarely said love, hadn’t trusted in the emotion. Until James.
“Actions show what you feel for me.” He slowly let her down. His gaze stayed locked with hers. “You turned this old house into a home, filled it with loving touches. Photos of my family, of you and me, on the mantle.” He grinned crookedly. “You bake me snickerdoodle cookies because I have a sweet tooth. You watch old Westerns with me, when I know you really don’t like them.”
He’d never told her these things meant anything to him, not that she did any of that to be praised. But she felt uncomfortable, knowing he’d done so much more for her from the moment they’d met. Needing a second to compose herself, she turned toward the great room. Then she really lost it.
“Oh, James,” she gasped, gaping at the decorated tree. She blinked rapidly to keep the tears at bay. “You put up a tree for me.”
“For us. Having a Christmas tree is something that means a lot to both of us.”
She heard the gentleness in his voice. He was right. They’d enjoyed spending a cold day picking out the perfect tree each of the last two years. They teased each other over how to hang the lights just right. They fought—playfully—over who would put the angel on top of the tree. And hanging the decorations from his family and ones they had bought together meant a lot to her…to both of them. But he’d done it all by himself this year. For her.
Christmas was two days away and usually they exchanged their presents on Christmas Eve. But she couldn’t wait that long. Although she was nervous, she needed to give him her gifts now. At least some of them.
Heart pounding, she looked up at him. “Wait for me by the tree. Please. I have something I want to give you and I can’t wait for tomorrow.”
“But…” He stopped protesting when she went up on tiptoes and kissed him silent.
She turned and jerked off her coat, thrusting it into his hands. Then she raced to the spare bedroom.
All James wanted to do was take Kelly to their bedroom and make love to her, over and over, and over some more. He’d been so damn worried about her. He could have lost her and he couldn’t imagine his life without her in it.
He’d watched her smiling uncertainly at him before she hurried up the stairs. Instinct warned him something important was about to happen. Something far more than just exchanging gifts early.
Damn! Gifts! He still hadn’t wrapped the few presents he’d gotten her. What the hell did he do now? No way was he going to accept something from her without giving something in return. The stupidest idea flashed into his head. Well, he was a man. Sometimes men got really dumb, desperate ideas.
Kelly carried three small wrapped gifts down the stairs. Would he think these ridiculous? She’d come up with this idea yesterday. What would he say? She almost turned around to go back and grab the other “real” presents she’d gotten him.
But the sound of soft Christmas music playing snagged her attention. Her favorite songs. Then she noticed that James had turned off all the lights in the lower part of the house except for the Christmas lights.
Curious and warmed by his thoughtfulness, she walked slowly closer. At first she didn’t spot him, since she was taking in the wonder of the beautifully decorated tree. Then he quietly coughed to draw her attention. She froze, stunned. And then laughed for the first time in far too long. Her precious, precious cowboy.
“Got to admit that wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for,” he mumbled. He hastily reached for one of the throw pillows he’d put on the floor near him and held it across his lower body.
Struggling to stop giggling, to quit grinning like a fool, she hurried to him. She dropped down on her knees beside her very naked, very tempting husband. She set her gifts to the side and pulled the pillow off him. His long, thick cock adorned with a red bow from the tree danced toward her. She gently took hold of it and smiled at his quiet groan of pleasure.
“Best gift ever.” She stroked the velvety softness of the steel-like rod. “I plan to spend a long time enjoying it later tonight.”
She glanced warily at the presents next to her. “I…I hope you like my gifts as much.”
James found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything but the way Kelly’s hand held his dick. It felt so good. Hell, more than good. He wanted to tumble her to the floor and spend hours and hours showing her how much he loved her. But he could tell she was nervous, concerned about her gifts for him. When she released him to reach for the small boxes, he fought back a groan of complaint.
He shifted up into a sitting position and took the first red-wrapped present from her shaking hands. He waited for her to say something. When she didn’t, he ripped off the paper. Lifting the top off the box, he pulled out a piece of paper carefully folded inside. I respectfully give my notice. December 23 will be my last day. There was more, clearly this was a copy of her letter of resignation to her boss.
He was so damn happy he could have done one of those crazy happy dances.
“Stupid, huh?” She anxiously twisted her hands in her lap.
The job had been important to her so he held his happiness in check. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want to pressure you, not really.”
Her chin jutted up. “It’s what I want. Are you okay with it, though? I know the extra money is nice.”
“Hell, yes, I’m okay!” He started to reach for her, but she thrust a second present at him.
He wanted to hug her…and so much more. Instead he opened the long, slender box, thinking it looked like a tie box, although he never wore ties. When he lifted the lid off the box, he blinked twice at the foot and a half long riding crop with a heart-shaped top.
As he held it up curiously, he noted his wife’s pink cheeks. “A crop? Really?” He damn sure would never have expected something like this. He hadn’t known she even knew about such things. Clearly there were a lot of things he didn’t know about his wife.
She pursed her lips for a second and then said primly, “It’s supposed to deliver a ‘sweet surprise’ for when I’ve been ‘very, very good.’ At least that’s what the salesclerk told me.”
Hmm, where exactly had she gone shopping? Interesting. He raised an eyebrow in challenge. “I bet it can deliver a stinging smack, too, when you’ve been very, very bad.”
She started to jerk it out of his hands, but he moved it out of her reach, grinning. “We’ll save it for those ‘very good’ times.”
While she calmed, stopped looking so irritated, he nodded at her final wrapped package.
Without commenting any further about the crop, she handed him the last gift. She worried her lower lip and he sensed this one meant the most to her. He tore the paper away slowly, uncertain. He sure as hell hoped he wouldn’t disappoint her with his reaction to whatever this was.
Seeming impatient, she grabbed the box and yanked off the lid. She took the shredded pieces of paper out and thrust them at him. Then she closed her eyes and waited.
He glanced at a couple pieces before he finally realized what he held. He struggled to speak. “The prescription renewal for The Pill. You tore it up? Why?” He prayed he understood. He could barely contain his need to hug her to him.
Those beautiful, loving eyes of hers opened and she said timidly, “It’s time we had a baby.”
He didn’t care that he felt moisture on his face. This was a precious moment, one he’d thought might never happen. He held out his arms and she crawled onto his lap. “Best Christmas ever.”
She leaned back, thumbed away the tears from his cheeks. “No. The best Christmas ever was when we met at that party four years ago.”
He glanced out the window, noticed that the snow was falling even heavier now. He didn’t mind it at all. “Looks like we’re going to be snowed in here for a spell, honey.”
“Works for me.” She cuddled closer.
Worked for him, too.