by Rita Herron
SAFE BY HIS SIDE
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue
Other Books
About the Author
Safe in His Arms
Copyright © 2018 by Rita Herron
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without specific written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Beachside Reads
Norcross, GA 30092
Cover Design: Jeffery Olsen
Cover Photo: The Illustrated Romance, https://illustratedromance.com
Print Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency
eBook Interior Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency
ISBN: 978-1-949178-02-9 (Paperbook)
ISBN: 978-1-949178-03-6 (eBook)
Third Edition: 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
Printed in the USA
To my mother who never read until I wrote my first book!
I miss you every day, Mother.
Love,
Rita
The darkness closed around Lenora Lockhart. Suffocating. Endless.
The four-by-four room where her abductor kept her gave her no room to move. To stretch.
No way to escape.
God knows she’d tried everything. Had torn her nails and skin clawing at the heavy cement and wood door. Her wrists had bled from her attempts to free herself of the chains. And the rest of her body ached from . . . fighting him.
She had no idea where she was. What city or state.
Only that she’d been here for weeks. At first, she’d tried counting the days and hours, but with no clock or window, she’d lost track of time completely. She wasn’t even sure when it was daylight.
Except—the night was when he came.
Footsteps sounded, creating a shuffling noise as he dragged his limp foot behind him. Next to her, another woman’s sobs wrenched the air as he opened the door to her prison.
Lenora’s own terror vibrated in the dankness as she struggled for a breath. She buried her head against her legs, her throat thick with fear as she listened to the woman scream.
Hating that she couldn’t save her, Lenora shoved her fist against her mouth to stop herself from yelling at him to stop. If she did, he’d drag her in the room and force her to watch.
He’d done it before.
And as much as the woman’s cries sickened her, she’d learned to be quiet. Follow his orders.
It was the only way to survive.
And she was going to survive, dammit.
She had too much to live for. Her mother was probably hysterical wondering where she was. If she was alive.
And her fiancé . . . their wedding plans . . . they’d just started making them. Her bridal gown was in the shop for alterations. The lilies had been ordered. The food and DJ arranged . . .
Her chest heaved. Drew was probably crazy with worry as well.
She glanced down at her tattered clothes, dirty and bloodstained, and knew she looked horrible. Didn’t want him to see her like this . . .
Would Drew still love her when he heard what this bastard had done to her?
The rancid smell of sweat, urine, and vomit permeated the air from the icy chambers. Her own sweat, now mixed with his. Her own fear and body odors. Her skin felt clammy, dirty, her mouth gritty, dry.
The screams grew louder, and she squeezed her eyes shut, but the images of what he was doing to his other captive flashed in front of her eyes like a horror show.
Her stomach convulsed, and she swallowed hard to hold back the bile rising to her throat.
Suddenly though, the screams died. A huffed breath reverberated in the air. A curse. Then bitter, sinister laughter.
Had he killed her?
If so, that meant she’d be next . . .
A loud noise exploded from somewhere. Upstairs? Were they in the basement of a house? A cave?
Voices shouted, footsteps clattered, then her captor cursed. She heard his shuffling as he raced past her door. Where was he going? Not up the stairs?
Was there a hidden exit down here?
More voices, shouts, footsteps, then the sound of something breaking. Wood? A body slamming against the door to the upstairs?
“Police!”
“Stop, it’s over!”
A gunshot rang out. More footsteps.
She held her breath, wiping at the tears running down her face. She was going to be rescued. Free at last . . .
Another gunshot.
“I’ve got the bastard!” a man shouted.
“Look for the women!” a female yelled.
“Dammit to hell. This one’s dead,” the man said. “And still warm. If we’d only gotten here sooner.”
A rush of emotions overwhelmed Lenora, and she beat at the door. “Help! I’m in here!” She balled her sore hands into fists and pounded as hard as she could.
Seconds later, the man with the deep voice shouted, “Stand back. I’m going to get you out.”
She backed into the dark corner as far as she could, a shudder coursing through her as she heard him trying to open the door. Metal ground against wood, the sound of an ax slamming against something.
Finally, the door screeched open. A faint stream of light nearly blinded her, and she squinted, her vision blurred, her memory foggy. How many days had it been since she’d been let out of the darkness?
Not since he’d brought her here.
Pain shot through her temple as the light of a flashlight hit her eyes. “I’ve got a live one!” the man with the deep voice shouted.
More footsteps pounded as if they were racing through the place searching for others. Lenora shivered, emotions overwhelming her as her rescuer lowered the flashlight and shined it on the floor of her prison.
“My name is Sergeant Micah Hardin with the Texas Rangers, Miss. I’m here to save you.”
She nodded, but her body felt frozen. Too many times the other man had come for her. Dragged her out. Done unspeakable things to her.
Could she trust this man?
He’d said he was police, hadn’t he?
“You’re Lenora Lockhart, aren’t you?”
Relief whirled inside her. He knew her name.
“I won’t hurt you,” he said in a husky murmur. “We’ve been looking for you and the others for a long time.” He dropped to his knees, crawling into the cave-like darkness with her.
The glint of metal flashed in front of her, and she realized he was
showing her his badge. “See, the Silver Star of Texas. Sergeant Micah Hardin.”
He held his hand out to her. “Come on, you’re safe now. Let me help you.”
Fear mingled with humiliation at the condition she was in. But she finally tore her arms from around her legs, took his hand and crawled from her prison.
Shadows moved. Her captor bellowed as a lawman hauled him up and handcuffed him.
She choked on a sob as the sergeant helped her to stand. But she was so weak that she collapsed against him.
He swung her up into his arms, and she buried her head against his chest as he carried her through the dark tunnel, then up the steps and out into the night away from the horror.
Five years later
The last thing Sergeant Micah Hardin wanted to do today was to have to tell Lenora Lockhart that Robert Simpleton, the man who’d abducted and brutalized her, had escaped from prison.
But she had to know because most likely Simpleton would come after her.
He cursed as he drove toward the outskirts of Austin where she’d moved after Simpleton’s trial.
She’d been battered and traumatized from her captivity, but still, she’d summoned enough courage to face the bastard in court and name every horrific thing she’d endured.
Then her fiancé had left her.
Son of a bitch. How could he have walked away from such a brave, gutsy woman and the life they’d planned together?
Lenora hadn’t deserved the abuse Simpleton had inflicted on her. And she sure as hell hadn’t deserved for the man who’d professed to love her to abandon her when she’d needed him most.
Not that Lenora was his problem. She’d been a case. Nothing more.
Except . . . he’d found her in that awful, filthy boxlike room and felt the terror quivering through her when he’d carried her out into the light to safety.
He’d seen a lot of sick assholes in his day, but Simpleton was one of the worst. As much as he’d tried to steel himself against the gruesome details, his heart had ached for Lenora.
At least she had survived. Although experience told him that some victims preferred death to the trauma of living a life after the hell they’d endured.
What about Lenora? Was she still suffering? Had she managed to put her nightmares to rest and move on with her life?
Sweat exploded on his brow as guilt assaulted him.
If she had, he was about to destroy that sense of peace.
Dammit to hell, the sadist and the other two prisoners who’d escaped the state pen should never have been allowed visitors or mail. Because they had to have had help from the outside to plan their escape.
Of course, that help could have come from the inside. Other prisoners’ contacts, security officers, chow hall staff, even counselors could be bought with money or sympathy.
For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why anyone would feel sorry for Robert Simpleton or the other two men because they’d committed heinous crimes against women.
The FBI was investigating the prison employees and inmates now. Even the warden had fallen under intense scrutiny.
Thankfully one of the prisoners Geoffrey Jones had been found. A Texas Ranger had beaten the feds to him and killed the bastard.
He chuckled. Sometimes the feds and Rangers fought over jurisdiction. But this time they’d welcomed the help. Dangerous prisoners on the loose tended to cause panic, and there had been four murders inside the prison in one month, meaning the FBI had their work cut out there.
Ranches and farmland sprawled across the terrain, reminding him of his own spread outside Austin. Lenora would need a safe place to hide until they caught Simpleton.
What would she think about going to his ranch with him?
An image of Lenora in his home taunted him. Lenora in his kitchen sipping coffee and sharing breakfast with him. Lenora outside riding across his land . . .
Jesus, he could not go there, could not start thinking about her in a personal way.
His job was to protect her and find Simpleton, not get involved with her.
Or fantasize about having her for himself.
No, detective work and relationships didn’t mix.
He’d make sure Lenora was safe until Simpleton was back in the pen—or dead—then he’d leave her in peace again so she could find the happiness Simpleton had stolen from her.
Lenora adjusted the display of wedding veils hanging by the floor length mirror, then moved on to straighten the shoe rack before rehanging the dresses Edie Nivens had spent the morning trying on.
Finally, the young bride-to-be had chosen a white strapless, sweetheart gown with lacy overlays. Lenora had taken her measurements for alterations and ordered shoes and the veil Edie had wanted.
Edie had left happy, relaxed and chattering nonstop about her upcoming big day.
A sliver of sadness threatened to destroy Lenora’s good mood, but she tamped it down. Her mother and everyone else who’d known her before the attack thought she was crazy for opening a bridal shop when her own nuptials had been called off so suddenly.
When her heart had been broken.
But she’d rebelled against sympathy and the pitying stares—she’d endured too much of that after her abduction and the trial where she’d had to bare her soul in public.
So she’d chosen to dive into a career that would allow her to at least experience joy through others’ happiness.
Just because she hadn’t found true love and her happily-ever-after and didn’t expect to, didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy helping others have that special day.
Truth was, the bridal shop had been cathartic for her. Too long she’d lived in that dark world, undergoing therapy, reliving the nightmares as she relayed details of her ordeal to lawyers and counselors, and then reading about her experiences in the paper the following day.
She had survived. But not without major scars, mostly invisible to others. The nightmares still tormented her at night. The demons and shadows still haunted her. The fear . . . threatened to immobilize her at the most unexpected times.
But she refused to succumb to that fear and let it paralyze her. Focusing on the darkness would rob her sanity.
And that would be a win for the sick bastard who’d hurt her.
Her assistant, Jenny Beal, flipped the closed sign on the front store door, then turned to her with a smile. “Whew. What a busy day.”
“June is the big month for weddings.” Which meant that brides-to-be had to order their dresses and start planning in the summer and fall. Rush jobs made everything more stressful and created unnecessary problems.
“Go on home,” Lenora said. “I’ll stay and finish for the day.”
Jenny beamed a smile. “Thanks, Lenora. My boyfriend said he had plans for us tonight.”
Lenora’s heart fluttered. “You think he’s going to propose?”
Jenny’s green eyes lit up. “I don’t know. I hope so!” She laughed, then practically bounced across the room in her excitement, her ponytail bobbing as she slung her purse over her shoulder and rushed out the back door.
Lenora watched her leave with a mixture of emotions. Joy for the twenty-three-year-old filled her. Even though she was only twenty-eight herself, she felt old. Ancient.
Hardened. Jaded.
And . . . lonely.
Had she ever been that naive and full of dreams?
Yes . . . before Robert Simpleton.
But he was locked away now and she was safe. That was all that mattered.
Sighing, she walked over to the cash register, tallied up the money and receipts for the day, then removed the credit card slips and checks and put them in the safe in her office. Tomorrow she’d make a bank deposit, but tonight she had a date with a bubble bath.
A noise sounded from the back, and she startled. Damn her nerves.
It was probably just Jenny coming back for something. She was notorious for forgetting her keys.
She headed to the double doors leading to the back, but a knock on the front door made her jump.
Irritated with herself for being so jittery, she turned and walked to the front, then peered through the glass expecting to see Jenny.
But her breath caught at the sight of a man on the front stoop.
Not just any man. Sgt. Micah Hardin.
Memories flooded her. The dark prison room, his deep voice calling to her, his warm hand clasping hers and pulling her out, his strong arms carrying her to safety and into the light.
She’d had such a difficult time and hadn’t trusted anyone but him back then, so the prosecutor had asked him to stay throughout the trial. His soft reassurances as he’d supported her through her testimony had saved her.
The familiar sting of tears, panic and fear seized her. She hadn’t seen the Texas Ranger in years.
There was only one reason she could think of that he was here now.
Robert Simpleton must be out of jail.
And if he was, he was on his way to find her and kill her.
Micah’s gut clenched at the instant fear that snapped into Lenora’s eyes as she opened the door to her bridal shop.
Had she already heard about the prison escape?
Feminine scents suffused him as he stepped inside, the sight of dozens of bridal gowns, veils, shoes, and accessories striking him as ironic. He’d heard Lenora had opened a wedding shop and thought it odd since her fiancé had dumped her before the trial.
But an image of Lenora in the satin sheath hanging in front of the mirror to the right hit him, and his aching heart skipped a beat.
“Micah,” she said in a throaty whisper. “You should have called.”
“I wanted to see you in person.” And offer my services to protect you.
She crossed her arms, her delicate jaw tightening just enough for him to see that she was nervous and trying to hide it. He’d noticed the same telltale signs at the trial.