Three to Ride

by Sophie Oak

  Three to Ride

  Nights in Bliss, Colorado, Book 1

  Lexi Blake

  writing as

  Sophie Oak

  Three to Ride

  Nights in Bliss, Colorado Book 1

  Published by DLZ Entertainment LLC

  Copyright 2018 DLZ Entertainment LLC

  Edited by Chloe Vale

  ISBN: 978-1-937608-78-1

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

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  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Author Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  An excerpt from Siren Enslaved by Lexi Blake

  Two to Love, Coming Soon

  About Lexi Blake

  Other Books by Lexi Blake

  Dedication (2010)

  To Kim. If the universe had asked me what I wanted in a sister, I would never have picked you. Sometimes reality is better than fantasy.

  Special thanks to my family for giving me the time to write, to the towns of South Fork and Creede in Colorado for the inspiration, and to my writer buddies, Kris Cook and Shayla Black for always listening when I drone on and on.

  Dedication (2018)

  To those of you who never give up

  To those of you who never stop dreaming

  To those of you who never stop trying to find the way home

  Author Foreword

  I can vividly remember the day Bliss was born. Oddly enough it wasn’t on my first trip through southern Colorado where my husband grew up. I had been to his spiritual hometown of South Fork, CO, several times, had listened to his stories of growing up in the eighties amid ranchers and hippies and the unique Western experience that is part of Colorado. Yet it wasn’t the mighty Sangre de Cristo Mountains that truly inspired this series. It wasn’t the cold, sparkling waters of the Rio Grande that rushed through his backyard. It wasn’t the small cabin his grandfather had built with his own hands.

  It was a dog.

  My eldest daughter was ten and wanted to learn to ride horses. We found a place that offered lessons and signed her up. My youngest daughter was a baby and I remember being so haggard at that point in time. I had three kids and I’d just started writing again. I wanted to be sitting in front of a computer, but I was out in the country at the ass-crack of dawn with an infant, a teenaged boy who didn’t want to be there, and a bunch of horse-obsessed preteens. I parked, managed somehow to get us all from the car to the stables—not an easy thing to do with a stroller and no paved walkway, and I waited for it all to be over.

  And then the oddest thing happened. This massive dog strode up. I mean it. Massive. This mutt had to be part Great Dane, part St. Bernard, with the coloring of a Dalmatian. And he had the gnarliest stick in his mouth. I worried for a moment that he would be ferocious. He looked like he could take down a bear. He stopped in front of me and offered me the stick. One of the stable workers sighed. “That’s just Quigley. Throw the stick and he’ll be your best friend, ma’am. Or you can ignore him and he’ll go away.” Needless to say I threw the stick and that massive mutt and I became friends. After a while I let my son take over and for once the real world was meaningful to him. He wasn’t playing video games or obsessing over his comic books. The baby was asleep and I put in earbuds. I like music when I’m thinking. It’s a sound track that takes me somewhere new. Matt Nathanson’s “Come On Get Higher” came on and I looked out over the green pasture and saw him. A cowboy was riding up, his big body straight in the saddle. He was a man who loved animals more than people, who struggled with the real world, but was oddly accepted because he lived somewhere special, somewhere magical. And he had a twin. And they fell in love with a woman on the run, a woman who needed someplace magical.

  And Bliss was born. Needless to say there was no cowboy, but the vision was so clear in my mind. I stood there, looking like a complete idiot with tears streaming down my face as I stared into an empty pasture, but for me it suddenly became a town called Bliss.

  I originally wrote nine books based in Bliss before legal difficulties evicted me from my heart’s hometown. I found solace with McKay-Taggart and a group of thieves, but I never forgot Bliss. The years passed and I longed to come back to this place. I thought it would take me longer, but the universe had a different plan. One day I was sitting at a table signing books in Orlando and a woman from Dallas walked up and introduced herself. We lived not thirty minutes from each other, but if we hadn’t been at Apollycon that year, we would never have met. Margarita Coale was a lawyer and she enjoyed my books. And hey, if I ever wanted to ask some legal questions, she would love to help me out. A year later she’d done what I’d thought impossible and Bliss was back open for business.

  So that’s the story of how a dog and a lawyer saved a small, fictional town. Thanks to Margarita and to Quigley.

  And to you, dear reader, I bid you welcome. If you’ve never read a Bliss book, welcome to my crazy, beautiful, dream of a town where everyone gets a second chance and you are never alone. I hope you discover, as I have, that life is better in Bliss, CO.

  And if you’re a longtime reader, welcome home.

  Much love,

  Lexi Blake

  Prologue

  Dallas, TX

  The rain beat endlessly against the windowpane as Elizabeth Courtney stared out the hospital window. There was gray as far as the eye could see. Gray sky. Gray buildings. Gray streets. She knew the sheets on her hospital bed were white, but somehow all she could see was gray.

  How long had it been since the damn sun had shone?

  “So you claim the perpetrator is a man you had one date with?”

  The cop’s voice brought her out of her thoughts, reminded her that there was worse to come. So much worse.

  “I’ve filed reports,” she explained. “At least ten.”

  He frowned, looking down at his tablet. “I could only find three.”

  The fact that they’d sent an officer and not a detective let her know how seriously they were taking her. “I’ve filed ten complaints. I guess your office decided they weren’t worth taking seriously.”

  The officer’s jaw tightened, his face flushing slightly. “I assure you, we take all of this seriously, ma’am. But your townhouse was old and we find that faulty wiring is often to blame for fires. We can’t go and arrest some man you don’t like without evidence.”

  Some man she didn’t like. Yes, they were serious about this. “Tommy
Lane did this. It wasn’t faulty wiring. It wasn’t an accident. He did this to punish me, and you’ll let him get away with it because he’s a cop.”

  Now a hard look came into the officer’s eyes. “I assure you that if we find cause, we will make an arrest. And in the meantime, I’ll try to find the files. They’re likely stuffed in a box somewhere. If you’ve filed against him ten times, I’m sure we can do something. We should be able to provide you with some kind of protection.”

  “For how long?” she asked, knowing the answer wouldn’t be to her liking.

  The male officer shifted from foot to foot and scratched at the hair under his black cap. “For as long as you need it.”

  “I doubt that.” It would be for as long as they had the budget for it, if that.

  Tommy had friends on the force. Lots of them. Just because he’d turned out to be a complete psycho freak didn’t mean they would desert him. Cops tended to stick together. She’d already gotten a phone call from Tommy’s old partner threatening her if she didn’t drop the case against him. Of course, at the time, her case had been stalking. She could now add arson and attempted murder to the list. God, how could one date have gone so wrong?

  “He won’t stop coming after me.” She wasn’t sure who she was talking to now. It wasn’t like the officer was truly listening. “I offended him and he won’t stop until he’s satisfied I’ve paid.”

  “And all of this was because you wouldn’t accept a second date with him?” The cop seemed genuinely stumped. “Because most men would move on.”

  “Lucky me. He’s not most men.” Tommy didn’t give up. He kept coming no matter what she did.

  “Look, ma’am, I’m not trying to be a jerk. But it’s difficult for me to see a fellow officer doing something like this. We have psych evaluations.”

  “And those aren’t always right,” she shot back. She’d heard this before, too.

  The young officer sighed as though unsure how to proceed. “Like I said, we’re here to protect you if you need it.”

  But he would be the one to decide if she needed it, and he’d spent the last hour and a half asking her questions like “had she been depressed lately” and “did she have a therapist.”

  They would decide she was a hysterical female and she would be left alone with no protection. She had no money, no home, no family. She would be forced to stay in some cheap motel, and that was where they would find her body.

  The rest of her life played out like a bad noir.

  “She’ll be in the hospital for at least another forty-eight hours,” the doctor said to the police officer as he strode into the room.

  Pure gratitude flooded her system. The doctor’s intervention gave her a moment to quell the panic threatening to overtake her. Though his words gave her pause. Not an hour before, Dr. Smith had told her she could leave tonight. He looked so serious that she kept her mouth closed.

  The officer nodded and flipped the notebook he was holding shut. She bet he was happy to be able to put off the problem for another couple of days. “All right, then. I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss how we can protect you, Miss Courtney. You’re in a secure wing of the hospital for now. Don’t worry about a thing. You should concentrate on feeling better.”

  He strode out of the room, the door closing with a decisive click behind him.

  It took everything she had not to throw something as the officer walked out the door. Don’t worry? Her home burned down and she wasn’t supposed to worry?

  This was what she would get from the authorities. She had to hope and pray that Tommy had left something behind. Some clue that they couldn’t turn a blind eye to.

  “Are you all right?” The doctor sighed. “That was a stupid question. I should ask, did the police give you any of the answers you were looking for?”

  She merely shook her head.

  The doctor turned. “The nurses said something about a stalker.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Oh, I believe a lot. I was a trauma surgeon most of my life. Can’t operate anymore because of a weakness in my hand, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help save lives, still. I’ve seen the worst of the worst. Lay it on me.”

  “I don’t even know how to tell the story. It was one date.”

  It had been a blind date set up by a friend of a friend. Tommy Lane had set off a few red flags, and Liz had politely declined his offer for a second date. That should have been the end of it. But one year’s worth of creepy phone calls, letters to her boss, and vandalism had finally led to him torching her small townhouse. She had lost everything. It was good to know the police didn’t want her to worry.

  Liz looked over at the doctor. He was a nice-looking man in his mid-thirties. He’d been kind to her. Everyone in the hospital had gone out of their way to make her feel safe. “Why did you lie to the cop? Is there something else wrong with me?”

  Dr. Smith took a deep breath. “You’re fine. I lied to give you choices. I lied because I don’t want anyone to know where you’re going if you decide to go.”

  The door to her room opened, and one of the night nurses walked in. Liz remembered her name was Sandy. She must have changed shifts because it was still light outside. She carried a duffel bag in one hand.

  “Everything’s ready,” Sandy said to the doctor.

  “Good.” The doctor rubbed his hands together and nodded. He turned to Liz, and there was a wealth of sympathy in his eyes. “I’ll leave you in Sandy’s capable hands. I wish you the best of luck, Ms. Courtney. My card is in that bag. If you need anything, please call me.”

  Liz watched the doctor exit the room before turning her attention to the nurse. Sandy was an older woman. She looked to be in her mid-fifties and radiated an air of confidence that came with extreme professionalism. She was brisk and efficient, but now she smiled kindly. “You don’t have any family, do you?”

  Liz shook her head. Her father had died of cancer ten years ago and her mother in a car accident three years later. She only had an elderly aunt in San Diego. She adored her Aunt Sadie, but she couldn’t exactly count on her for protection. Liz had been on her own for a long time, but never before had she felt so isolated and alone. Tommy had done that to her. In the last year, he’d managed to drive off every friend she had.

  “I lost my daughter,” Sandy said, tears welling as though the loss happened yesterday. “It was ten years ago.”

  “I’m sorry.” She murmured all the words she knew she should say. She couldn’t imagine how awful it was to lose a child. Losing her parents had been hard enough. Still, her mind was focused on one problem and one problem alone. How was she going to survive when he was still out there?

  “Her ex-boyfriend walked into the place she worked and shot her three times in the heart,” Sandy explained matter-of-factly. “She’d done all the right things. She got restraining orders, called the cops on him. It didn’t matter.”

  Sandy’s daughter had done all the things Liz had done, and she’d still died at the hands of her stalker. Liz felt her whole body tremble. She had nowhere to go. Tommy was incredibly savvy when it came to tracking a person. He could track her with her credit cards or trace her through her cell phone. Once he had traced her to a bar where she’d gone to enjoy happy hour with some work friends. He’d shown up and accused her of cheating. She’d been humiliated in front of her boss, who had promised he didn’t think less of her, but had still let her go when her temp contract had come up. Tommy had left numerous voice mails with the men she tried to date, detailing a relationship that didn’t exist. It had proven to her that he was completely insane. She’d been shocked to learn he’d been tracking the license plate on her car as she drove through intersections with cameras. Anywhere she went, he would find her.

  Sandy shook her head as though trying to pull herself back into the present. “If she was alive today, I’d tell her to do the one thing I’m telling you to do.”

  “What?” Liz’s tears were falling freel
y now.

  “Run, sweetie.” Sandy reached out and took her hands. “You gotta run. Until they have enough evidence to put him in jail, you aren’t safe. He’ll come after you again. The nurses took up a collection. There’s five thousand dollars in that bag. It’s not much, but it’s a start. I have a friend who helps out in situations like this. He made you three new driver’s licenses and passports. They’ll pass the tests. There are social security cards, too. It’s everything you need to start a new life. I know it’s not fair to you, but I think it’s the smartest thing for you to do.”

  Liz looked down at the duffel bag and then back up at Sandy. If she had a new identity, maybe he wouldn’t be able to find her. The idea of fairness didn’t even register. Nothing about her life had been fair since that maniac had crashed into it.

  But this…this could give her a chance. He wouldn’t know what car to watch for or what name to track on her credit cards. She could start over and leave this nightmare behind.

  Something like hope started to bloom inside her. “Why are you doing this for me?”

  Sandy’s face was lined with heartache. “I do this for a lot of girls, more than I care to think of. I do this because I wish someone had done it for my daughter.”

  Two hours later, Liz sat in the front seat of a beat-up sedan. There was a black wig covering her golden-brown hair. She had instructions to dye her hair at the earliest opportunity. There was a box of L’Oréal in her bag. Liz smiled slightly as she thought about it. She’d always wanted to try blonde.

  “I have a blog. Here’s the web address.” Sandy pressed a piece of paper in her hand. “Check it every week if you can. I’ll post information there when I get some. I’ll let you know if it’s safe to come home, okay?”

  She nodded, her heart filled with gratitude. These people had given her everything. The doctor had bought this car and then made sure the plates couldn’t be traced back to any of them. The day shift nurses had purchased clothes for her. What they had really bought her was a chance at survival. “How can I ever thank you?”