by Rita Herron
Memories assaulted him, and he managed to pry his eyes open and look around the room. Mia sat beside the bed wringing her hands.
Her face was streaked with tears, bruises marred her beautiful face, and her hand trembled as she reached up and squeezed his hand.
“They removed the bullets. The doctor said you were lucky.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy with guilt and other emotions.
“Thank you for saving my life, Alex.”
Alex’s throat was so damn dry he had to swallow twice to make his voice work. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, now that I know you’re going to make it.” Mia released his hand and stood. “It was touch and go for a little while.”
Alex grimaced. “I wouldn’t leave you, Mia.” He meant that in more ways than one.
Her eyes flickered with emotions, hope fluttering there for a second as if she read his meaning, but she didn’t comment, making his gut tighten. What was going on in that mind of hers?
“The sheriff said one of Henry’s neighbors Frank Sutter paid a man named Kurt Jeeters to cause trouble at the ranch to get Henry to sell. Joleen heard Jeeters talking on the phone to Sutter. That’s why he killed her.”
“I’m glad the sheriff caught him.” Images of Jones’s hands on Mia, strangling her, pelted him, and he reached for her hand again.
He never wanted to let her go.
But she fidgeted and backed toward the door. “I’ll let you rest now. Thank you again, Alex. I’m …sorry for all the trouble I caused.”
“Mia,” he said, irritated by the distance he saw in her eyes. She was shutting down. Running.
Leaving him.
He knew it his bones.
She raised a trembling hand and gave him a small wave, then walked out the door without another word.
Dammit to hell. He wanted to go after her. But he tried to move, and machines beeped wildly like an alarm. He yanked at the IV, but two nurses raced in, giving him angry scowls.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the heavyset one bellowed.
“Don’t tell me you’re trying to get out of that bed? You just had major surgery,” The skinny one’s voice was even more shrill than the first nurse’s.
“You don’t understand,” he said. “I have to leave.”
The heavy one pushed him back down. “You’re not going anywhere, Mister.”
“Nope,” the other one said with a wag of her finger. “Not till the doctor says you can.”
Alex cursed silently and glared at them. They didn’t understand. He didn’t give a shit how he felt or if he opened up his stitches.
Mia had left. And he was afraid he’d lost her for good.
TWO DAYS LATER, MIA STARED AT THE RUINS OF THE MCCAULEY farmhouse, guilt overwhelming her. Joleen had been killed because someone had wanted to keep her quiet — the man who’d wanted Henry’s ranch.
But he hadn’t started the fire. Geoff’s men had done that to lure her out as they’d originally suspected.
Because of her, too many people had been hurt. Henry. Joy.
And Alex…
God, she’d been terrified when she’d seen him tied to that stake, bloody, battered, and about to be lit on fire because she’d dared to leave her husband.
She knew what she had to do. Move far away.
After all, how could she stay and look into the eyes of all the people she’d caused so much pain?
Better for her to start over somewhere else. Geoff was dead, so she should be safe without assuming a new name.
She sat down and wrote Joy and Henry a long heartfelt note, telling them how much she loved them and appreciated all they’d done for her. She promised to send them payments to help rebuild their house as soon as she got a new job. Thankfully Henry had a small insurance policy, but it wouldn’t be enough to replace everything. They’d need money for new furniture, curtains, and decorations. Joy had actually said she was excited about fixing up the place.
But Mia knew they were only trying to make her feel better.
She loved them even more for that.
She folded the letter and slid it into an envelope to drop off on her way out of town. Heart heavy, she retrieved her suitcase from the closet and began to pack her clothes and the few personal items she’d accumulated.
No family photos for her.
Except a picture of Henry and Joy. She carefully wrapped it in one of her sweaters and tucked it into her bag.
She didn’t have a photo of Alex, but she would never forget his handsome face.
And how pale he’d looked on his deathbed.
Her heart fluttered with longing, but she tossed the rest of her clothes in the suitcase and zipped it up. Her boots went into a duffel bag, then she grabbed her jean jacket.
Sighing, she turned around and studied the cabin, memorizing the details of the woodwork, the horse paintings on the wall, the quilted throw Joy had handmade and draped across the foot of her bed.
This was the first place she’d felt truly at home, as if she had a family. Sadness welled inside her. She would always remember it with love.
Suddenly a knock sounded, and she froze. Probably Henry or Joy coming to check on her or ask her about the horses. She’d already taken care of them for today.
Running her hands through her hair, she stepped to the door to open it and was shocked to see Alex standing on the other side leaning on a crutch.
His face was still black and blue, his eye purple but not as swollen, the stitches in his forehead stark in the evening light.
She’d never seen a more handsome man.
But something was wrong.
“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, his tone furious.
Mia gaped at him in surprise. “What’s wrong? Was Geoff really not dead?” Jesus Lord, please let him be dead.
“He’s dead,” Alex said. “You’ll never have to worry about that bastard again.”
Her breath rushed out. “Then what’s wrong? Why aren’t you still in the hospital?”
His lips thinned into a frown. “Because I had to see you.”
“Alex, you need rest, the doctor said —”
“I don’t give a damn what the doctor said,” Alex muttered. “I thought you’d visit me. And I called and left you messages, but you didn’t return my calls.”
He pushed past her, his crutch clacking on the wood floor as he scanned the room. His eyes fell on her suitcase, anger flashing.
“Are you taking a trip?” he asked gruffly.
Mia shifted nervously. “I’m leaving. Henry and Joy have suffered enough on account of me.”
“Did they ask you to leave?”
“Well, no…”
He turned to face her, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Do you think they want you to go?”
She bit her lip. “It doesn’t matter. My mind is made up. I’ve hurt them too much already.”
“You didn’t hurt them, Mia. Geoff did. And Joleen died because of Henry’s neighbor.” He took a step toward her. “You are not responsible.”
Then why did she feel so horrible?
Alex limped a few more steps, stopping only a hairbreadth from her. “But if you run off and leave the McCauleys, you will hurt them, Mia.”
“Alex —”
“They love you, Mia. They think of you as family. Can’t you accept that? When you love someone, you don’t want them to be a martyr.”
Mia took a step backward. Alex was invading her space. She couldn’t be this close to him and not touch him. “That’s not what I’m doing.”
“Then you’re running on guilt, unreasonable guilt.”
“Maybe I am,” she said, her defenses rising. “But every time I look at Joy, I remember her sprawled on the floor, hurt, her house burning around her.”
“Those images will fade, Mia. Just give it time.”
She shook her head, her pulse pounding. “No they won’t, just like I won’t stop seeing you lying on the ground bleeding to death. All because
of me.”
He gripped her arms. “Not because of you, because a madman was after you.”
“You were just doing your job,” Mia said. “And I appreciate it, but you don’t owe me anything else.”
Anger hardened his chiseled face. “No, I don’t owe you. I’m here because I want to be.” His voice turned husky. “The McCauleys aren’t the only ones who love you.”
His husky words made her heart flutter.
Like a magnet, her gaze was drawn to his mouth. She wanted to kiss him. Tell him the truth. That she loved him so much that she was terrified of losing him.
But she couldn’t make her voice work.
She didn’t have to.
Alex tossed the crutch aside, then yanked her to him. “I love you, Mia. I love you and want you to be my wife.”
Mia swayed. Had she heard him correctly? “But Alex…” He didn’t know what he was saying. She didn’t know how to be what he needed.
“Tell me the truth,” he said, his expression braced for a fight.
“Do you love me?” he asked softly.
Emotions threatened to overcome her. A sob caught in her throat. Her lungs strained for air.
“Mia?” He arched one brow, his black eye looking pathetic and painful, but his voice was low and sultry.
So seductive she couldn’t resist.
“Yes,” she whispered. “ I love you. But I’m no good for you.”
“I’ll decide that.” He yanked her against the vie of his thighs and nuzzled her neck with his lips. “Now say it again.”
Titillating sensations enflamed her. “I love you, Alex.”
He teased her lips with his tongue. “And you’ll marry me?”
Her heart squeezed as his dark gaze met hers.
“Yes, Alex,” she said, a smile tickling her mouth as his hand began to unbutton her shirt. “I’ll marry you.”
He brushed his lips against her cheek. “Then make love to me.”
She shook her head. “Alex, you’re injured —”
His sexy laugh rumbled against her neck. “Yes I am, but you are just what the doctor ordered.” He kissed her neck and walked her backward toward the bed. “Besides, you know us Texas Rangers. We like to live dangerously.”
He stole her breath with another mind boggling kiss, one filled with such tenderness and longing and hunger that Mia could no longer deny herself.
She seared him with a passionate kiss that left them both frantic to be closer.
Then together they undressed and made long, slow passionate love well into the night.
PROLOGUE
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 blood stained, 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 s
he 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.
CHAPTER ONE
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.