Running From the Law

by Albright, Jami

  “By the power vested in me by the state of Texas, I pronounce you husband and wife.”

  The door opened and in walked Dr. Shelton and the nurse. “Looks like we missed the party.” Dr. Shelton scrubbed her hands in the sink.

  Charlie huffed through another contraction. “No, I think you’re just in time.”

  “That’s my cue to leave, but first you each have to sign the marriage certificate.” He handed them both a pen and they each signed their names. “That’ll do it.” Larry made his way to the door. “Congratulations, you two.”

  “Hang on, we’ll go with you,” Honey said, and came to stand by the bed.

  Charlie took Honey’s hand. “You don’t have to go.”

  “I believe that if you weren’t there for the conception, then you shouldn’t be there for the birth. Besides, look at your grandfather. He’s about to faint.”

  Wardell blew her a wobbly kiss from the door.

  Honey kissed her cheek, then they were alone. Well, except for Dr. Shelton and the nurse.

  The physician took a seat at the end of the bed and flipped back the sheet. “Let’s see what we’ve got going on here. Oh, my. We’re about to have a baby.”

  “What? Now?” Hank looked from Charlie to the doctor. “I thought first babies were supposed to take a long time.”

  “Most do, but this little gal is ready to be born,” Dr. Shelton said.

  There was some scrambling, some pushing, a bit of swearing, and a lot of encouragement, and then Phoebe Patrice Odom, Pod for short made her way into the world, screaming like her hair was on fire.

  When the nurse laid the baby on Charlie’s chest, her sense of unbelief intensified ten-fold. A new, fierce kind of love infused her at the first sight of her daughter. She would live and die for this little girl. Hank’s expression communicated the very same thing.

  “Charlie, look at her.” The velvety reverence in his voice cuddled the three of them in a cocoon of tenderness and adoration. He placed one hand on the baby’s back and the other behind Charlie’s head. “I love you…both, so much.” He rested his forehead against hers. “Charlie and Hank forever.”

  She kissed his sweet lips. “Forever.”

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  A note from Jami

  Every time I sit down to write a note for another book, I’m blown away by how unbelievably lucky I am to get to write books for a living. And that’s all because of you, sweet readers. Thank you from the very bottom of my heart.

  So, Charlie and Hank. I hope you love them as much as I love them. They were the most real characters I’ve ever written. I wanted to write a second chance romance where the couple had to really fight to be together. And how do they come together again when they’re both having to start their lives over.

  Charlie was never hard to write. I took every strong single mom I knew and rolled her into one person who would do anything to create the best life possible for her child. I wanted to show a woman who came into her own, and I believe I did that with Charlie.

  Hank, was a different story. I wanted to write a hero who was concerned about being a good and ethical man. A man who followed through on his commitments and treated women with respect, no matter what. I’m ashamed to say that it took me a while before I could write him authentically. I had to examine my own biases and prejudices to get to the heart of who he was. I think as women we sometimes say we want a man one way when really we’re willing to accept and even expect them to act another way. It was very eye-opening for me to say the least.

  In the end, I wrote two characters that I love and respect, and I hope you did too.

  Thanks again, for always supporting me and for reading my books.

  Jami

  Acknowledgments

  As always there are many people to thank at the end of the writing process. It seems the list gets longer with every book.

  First, I have to thank my husband for being so great and patient with me as I stumbled through this book. He listened to me cry, he encouraged me when I thought I couldn’t finish it, and celebrated with me when I had a finished manuscript. Thank you, honey. I love you.

  My kids, Zach, Alexa, Julie, and my son-in-law Dillon have been so encouraging and helpful to me. They’re busy people with lives of their own, but they never failed to ask me about the book and to encourage me all along the way.

  I have to thank my critique partners, Stacey A. Purcell and Carla Rossi for helping plot and form the ideas and characters for this book. Their input and expertise in storytelling was invaluable.

  H. Claire Taylor and her The Story Alignment for helping me get unstuck when my plot came to a grinding halt. She is a story ninja and pulled me back onto the right path.

  During the writing of this book, there were moments when I wasn’t sure I could tell the story the way it needed to be told. I needed someone else’s eyes and opinions. I want to thank Cristi Duvall, Ruby Dodson, Viper Spaulding, and Kirsten Oliphant for Beta reading and for sharing their honest and sometimes difficult feelings with me. They helped make this book one-thousand times better. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  I also want to thank my proofreaders, Dana Luniewski and Christina Montminy for helping make this book as clean and professional looking as possible.

  Thanks again to the talented Najla Qamber of Najla Qamber Designs for the beautiful cover and for making my Brides on the Run series memorable.

  Of course, I could never deliver a book to you without the expertise of my fantastic editor Serena Clarke of Free Bird Editing. She helped me mold this book into something I’m incredibly proud of. I have to thank her too for always being patient with me and for being one of my biggest cheerleaders.

  Speaking of cheerleaders, a huge thanks go to my besties Danielle and Sarah for listening to me as I took over our lunch dates to talk about this book. Your friendship, love, and solidarity means the world to me.

  I could never write a thank you note without including my mother. She is the absolute best and is always, always in my corner. Thank you, mom. You are my heart.

  Y’all I have the best online writer friends that have become like family to me. A gigantic thank you to Maria Luis who walked beside me every step of this book. She picked me up when I was discouraged and celebrated every victory with me. If you haven’t read her books, then you totally should. You will also notice that I used her hero from her book Body Check in my book. Jackson Carter is mentioned as one of Zachsville’s hometown heroes.

  To all the members of Indie AF, Rom Com Authors Network, DND Author Group, and Writepro Mastermind thank you for being in the trenches with me, for allowing me to celebrate and cry with you and for being the absolute best examples of professionalism and excellence. I love you all.

  Lastly, to you the reader. I can never thank you enough for spending your hard-earned money and your precious time reading my books. You make every day special for me. Thank you so very much.

  Preview Running From a Rock Star, Brides on the Run Book One

  Chapter One

  Light seared through Scarlett Kelly’s eyelids. She buried her face in the cool pillow to block the glare, but even that slight movement caused an explosion of agony. Pain and nausea crashed into her like a train on fire.

  After several minutes of panting through her symptoms, the misery subsided long enough for her to peel open her dry, sticky eyes.

  Her conservative dress and equally unadventurous bra stared at her from a condemning puddle on the floor.

  Stomach t
ight, she slid her gaze slightly farther to the right to identify the black pile in her peripheral vision. A motorcycle jacket. Combat boots. Black jeans. And…a guitar? Yes, a beat-up guitar leaned against the wall on the far side of the room. And poker chips littered the carpet like crushed confetti after a wild party.

  What the—

  Suddenly, something warm cupped her naked breast. She peered down at the large hand connected to a tattooed arm, connected to a…

  Oh. My. Lord.

  She rotated her head, and a stifled gasp jammed in her throat as she stared into the sleeping face of the man who shared the bed.

  Gavin Bain? A thrill skittered through her. The sunlight shone on his raven hair. His smooth bronze skin. Fascinating tattoos. Bam! A memory surfaced through her muddled brain. She’d traced the lines of one of those tattoos, the ninja star on his chest. She’d touched and then kissed her way… Oh, heavens, had she done that with this rock god?

  She, Scarlett Kelly, children’s author and poster girl for responsible living, had sex with Gavin Bain. Gavin Bain, the rock star, AKA The Delinquent.

  Her brain tried to piece together the previous night. She rarely drank and certainly not to excess. Even during the worst time in her life, alcohol hadn’t been involved.

  An acute case of bed-head made pushing her red curls from her face a painful challenge. Why had she drunk so much? It all came back in flashes of utter dismay. The Children’s Writer’s Conference in Las Vegas. Nervous anticipation of signing the contract that would save her family financially. That dream blowing up in her face. Then the added humiliation of overhearing herself described as a No-Fun-Nun.

  She’d shown them. Look at her now, naked in a strange man’s bed, the absolute picture of wholesomeness.

  I’ve got to get out of here.

  She held her breath as she removed his hand and slid from the bed. Moving unsteadily, due to her pounding head and sour stomach, she searched for her clothes, careful to be as quiet as possible.

  The purse, bra, dress, and boots were easy. But where were her panties?

  A panic attack threatened, and her whole body trembled. Could she have removed her underwear before she got to the room? If so, she hoped that memory stayed hidden. She gave up on the lost undies and headed for the bathroom.

  Lord, she needed to pee, but after a prolonged study of the toilet, decided it would be too loud and leaving an unflushed toilet was just bad manners. Even though she’d become, by all appearances, Slutty McSlut Slut, she couldn’t bring herself to be impolite. So she dressed as fast as her shaking hands allowed.

  The reflection in the mirror caught her eye, and the blood pounding through her veins turned to ice. Her head jerked toward her image so fast her brain vibrated. For the briefest of seconds, she saw her mother. A tiny whimper cut through the silence, and she ran trembling fingers over her face. People always said she looked like her mother, but now, while making the walk of shame, the resemblance was uncanny. The mental mantra she’d been repeating her whole life reverberated in her head. I am not my mother. I am not my mother. I am not my mother. She grabbed her purse and fled the pristine bathroom.

  A cool breeze from the air conditioner drifted up her dress and skimmed her bare bottom. She didn’t ever go commando—too much freedom. Restrictions were safe. Without restraint, a girl could find herself hung over, panty-less, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown while covertly fleeing a rock star’s hotel room.

  Oh, wait. That already happened.

  She glanced at the door. Nine feet, and she’d be free of this disaster. Logic screamed escape. Compulsion kept her rooted to the spot, and it became imperative that she find her underwear.

  I cannot leave without them.

  Where could one pair of basic white panties hide? The chandelier was blessedly free of them. Nothing on the drapery rod. But a photo on the desk made life as she knew it come to a screeching halt.

  A gaudy cardboard frame held a picture of her and Gavin under a red neon heart. The Valentine Wedding Chapel of Love spelled out in rhinestones around the frame’s border.

  It couldn’t possibly mean what she thought it did.

  Nooooo.

  Next to the picture, the condemning proof—a marriage license issued by the State of Nevada, signed by Gavin Michael Bain and Scarlett Rose Kelly. Her vision blurred, causing the letters on the certificate to dance like cartoon characters.

  She wrapped her arms around her middle and glanced back to the gorgeous sleeping man in the bed. A wave of vertigo slammed into her, along with the memory.

  She’d told him she’d only have sex with her husband.

  With shaking hands, she grabbed the evidence of their reckless night and shoved it into her purse.

  While her hard-won reputation exploded into a million pieces, her inner wild child made a victory lap around the room. If that hussy had been driving the bus last night, then she was the reason for this catastrophe.

  How could she have been so irresponsible? What was she going to do? No good answer for the first question, but she knew the response to the second. Find the panties and get the heck out of Las Vegas.

  She dug through the comforter at the foot of the bed. She kicked at his pile of clothes. She checked behind his guitar.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  Nothing.

  They had to be under the bed.

  Crap.

  Not interested in waking The Delinquent, she cautiously made her way to his side and quietly lowered herself to the floor, ignoring the sweet smile he had on his face while he slept. The white material peeked out between the headboard and the mattress. Hallelujah. She reached in and yanked them free.

  All the extra movement pounded dizzying pain into her skull. She bent forward and

  rested her head on the soft carpet, and waited for the room to stop spinning.

  “Are you praying?” asked a sleepy male voice.

  She squeaked, then slowly turned her head without lifting it from the carpet. Amusement sparkled in Gavin’s smoky gray eyes.

  “Yes, I’m praying you’re a very bad dream.”

  He rolled his eyes as if that couldn’t possibly be true. “Good one. Why are you really on the floor?”

  “I, uh, I…” The marriage certificate hidden in her purse and the cacophony of self-condemning thoughts made it hard to focus.

  Suspicion darkened his handsome face. “What are you hiding under the bed? Is there a recording device under there?”

  “Are you serious?”

  He leveled her with a deadly serious glare. There was no trace of the formerly amused man.

  “Actually, there’s a reporter from TMZ under here, would you like to say hello?”

  When his features went from dark to thunderous, she knew she’d made a critical error with the sarcasm.

  “I was just…um…looking for something.” She forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “Looking for what?” Titanium coated every word and drilled into her hungover brain.

  Time to go.

  She scrambled to her feet. An increased heart rate, combined with residual alcohol pumping through her system, made the room spin. She swayed and toppled cheek first into the side of the dresser, dropping the panties in the process.

  “Ouch!” She covered her face with her hands.

  Sheets rustled, and suddenly, he was in front of her. “Shit, are you okay?”

  She slowly lowered her hands and…hot mother of a freakin’ cow. A very naked Gavin squatted in front of her with all his dangly bits…well, dangling.

  “Fine, thanks.” That’s it? That’s the best she could come up with a gorgeous naked guy in front of her. So much for clever repartee.

  She honestly did try to keep her eyes above his shoulders, but—come on. This was her last chance to see a rock god in all his tattooed, naked glory. One quick peek, then she rose unsteadily to her feet.

  “It was nice to…um…meet you, but I should go.” She inched toward the door.r />
  “Wait. You’re not going anywhere until I have some answers.” He made a grab for her arm. Fear and adrenaline lit her up like a rocket. She forgot her injury, made an evasive move, and sprinted to get away.

  When she got to the door, she glanced over her shoulder. Gavin hopped on one foot trying to yank on his jeans. The last thing she saw was her husband as he fell, legs tangled in the fabric of the jeans.

  She bolted down the hallway toward the elevator. “Come on, come on, come on.” She jabbed the down button repeatedly. A small, logical part of her brain, not currently recovering from near alcohol poisoning, wondered what she hoped to accomplish by running. But the larger, wholly irrational, part of her psyche screamed, Married? I’m freakin’ married? I’ve got to get out of here.

  Gavin stumbled from the room and into the hall, still struggling with his jeans. They were over his hips but not buttoned. He strode down the hall toward her.

  The indicator bell dinged.

  “Stop. Do not get on that elevator.”

  The sight of him stole the air from her body. Magnificent—scary as hell—but totally, completely magnificent. For a crazy instant, she almost complied, but then the doors slid open and broke the spell. She lunged forward, but relief made her clumsy. She tumbled head over heels into the elevator, dress flying over her head as the doors slid shut.

  Great, she’d just mooned her husband.

  Continue reading

  RUNNING FROM A ROCK STAR

  Preview Body Check, Blades Hockey Book Four