BOUND
TO THE PAST
LAURYN MICHAELS
BOUND TO THE PAST
Copyright© 2014 Lauryn Michaels
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical or other means, not known of hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authorʼs imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edited by Amy Knupp
www.blueotterediting.com
Cover by Specially Designed
www.speciallydesigned.net
Excerpt from “Through the Rise & the Fall” - Copyright© 2014 Lauryn Michaels
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Harley-Davidson.
Dedication
To my mom, who's taught me to chase my dreams,
and my husband, who's showed me how to do it.
I love you.
Table of Contents
Dedication
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
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Epilogue
Excerpt from “Through the Rise & the Fall” (Book #2 of the Starville Series)
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Chapter 1
Dalton pulled his gun out and held it up with both hands as he crept along the wall. He didn’t stop until he reached a massive wooden door and knew he had found it―heʼd found the place where Charlotte was being kept. Drawing a deep breath, he shoved the door open with a powerful kick…
Sara Milano groaned, quickly deleting everything she had just typed. There was a hint of wicked satisfaction on her face once she finished and raised her eyes back to the clean page, as though to admire her work. Not that there was much to admire, she thought grimly, rolling her head around to loosen her stiff neck before leaning back in the chair. Then she waited.
And waited.
An exasperated sigh blew out of her mouth, but she shot a challenging look at the screen. She could do this. She had to do this. She would not fail again. All she needed was to stay focused. Straightening, Sara blew back a long strand of black hair that had escaped from her ponytail and started typing again.
Dalton pulled his gun out and held it up with both hands as he crept along the wall, until he reached a massive wooden door. He inhaled sharply, trying to keep calm. This had to be the place where Charlotte was being kept. Drawing another deep breath, he shoved the door open with a powerful kick…
“Ugh, this is awful!” Sara frenetically hit the Delete button again, until all that was left on the screen was a blank page and the cursor blinking at her. Laughing at her as the minutes dragged on, marked by the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall behind her and the impatient tapping of her fingers against the wooden desk.
“Why did you let me send this horror to my agent without making me revise it first, Lance? You should know better than that!”
The small white dog lying on the colorful rug at her feet raised his head to shoot her a brief, indignant look. Yawning, he stretched his front legs and trotted out of the room, his quick footsteps pattering on the hardwood floor in the hallway.
“Traitor.” Sara shook her head with a chuckle, but her smile died the instant her eyes set on the empty bowl sitting beside the computer. Man, she really needed to find time to go grocery shopping. Or she should at least train Lance to buy ice cream for her, she thought absently, her fingers already back on the keyboard.
But then, there it was again: the darn accusing cursor. Sara glowered at it for a couple of minutes, biting her thumbnail. It was at times like this that she wished she could call one of her friends and just chitchat for a while. Unfortunately, Brent and Nicky were still at work, Angie was currently living in England, and Carson had probably gone to sleep hours ago, being a rancher and all. Which was a problem, considering that they were the only ones who knew about her secret job as a novelist.
Fresh air. She needed fresh air.
Digging her cell phone out from under a gigantic pile of papers on her desk, Sara shut down the computer and stepped out of the den, her mind set on taking Lance for a long walk.
Unfortunately, her perfectly constructed plan had two major flaws: one, she lived in Starville, Texas; two, it was June. The dark realization came to her the instant she opened the front door and a wall of hot, muggy air hit her face, stealing her breath as if sheʼd just opened the door of a three-hundred-degree oven.
If she wanted fresh air in Texas, sheʼd have to wait patiently until the winter. Or she could drive around in her air-conditioned car for a bit. Hmm. Actually, that might not be a bad idea—better than sitting at her desk staring at a blank page, anyway. Maybe she would even stop by Mrs. Primsʼs shop and get some chocolate ice cream.
With renewed enthusiasm, Sara grabbed her car keys from the coffee table in the living room and dashed out of the house.
***
After driving for a couple of miles, Sara took a right turn to enter a tree-lined country road. It was narrow, poorly paved, and a little bumpy, but it was a familiar shortcut she used often to get quickly into town. In fact, after living in big cities for so many years, sheʼd grown to appreciate its quiet isolation…until she heard a loud pop and felt a jerking from the steering wheel.
“Oh, no. No, no, no!” …Not a flat tire! Not this late at night, and not on such a remote road! Before she finished that thought, the car started to swerve and thump. Great. Just great. Sara had no choice but to pull off on the side of the road and get out of the car to assess the situation. Yep, it was definitely a flat tire.
A grunt slipped from her lips. For a moment, she debated calling her friend Brent for help but pushed that thought away. He had better things to do than rushing to her help every time she was in trouble. Besides, it was time she learned to do things by herself. Changing a tire couldnʼt be too hard, right? If other people did it, so could she. She only hoped the dull light from the few working street lamps would be enough for her to see, because the last thing she needed was to have to hold a flashlight while attempting to change her first tire.
Sara had just opened the trunk and grabbed the jack
when she heard the loud rumble of an engine. She turned around with a relieved smile―but it faded as soon as she saw the huge, dark motorcycle approaching. She didnʼt know anyone who owned one like that in Starville.
“Awesome,” she mumbled. The only person coming by had to be a complete stranger. Her heart immediately sped at the implications of that thought. It was late at night, the road was dark, and she was about to be all alone with a stranger.
Whatever, silly. This was Starville. People here knew and helped each other. Yet she couldnʼt help sucking in a harsh breath as the motorcycle slowed down. If anything, she was still holding the jack. Probably not the most perfect weapon, but itʼd sure come in handy if this guy was coming with the wrong idea in mind.
“Need help?” the strangerʼs deep voice asked curtly as he killed the engine.
Squinting her eyes to focus them in the dim light, Sara swallowed hard. Screw the help; she could change the darn tire herself. “No, thank you. Iʼm sure I can”—the man slid off the bike and walked toward her—“manage,” she finished in a gasp as he stepped into the light.
He was a stranger, all right. Probably the most dangerous-looking one sheʼd ever seen. He was tall. Very tall. So much so that she had to tilt her head all the way back to look at his face, seeing as he towered over her five four by nearly a foot. Everything about him was dark, from the jeans he was wearing to the charcoal T-shirt and black leather jacket. Even his short hair and the faint stubble on his jaw were dark―not to mention his expression. But his eyes… Holy crap! They had to be the only bright thing about him. In fact, sheʼd never seen such a startling, intense shade of green before. And never had she thought that so much pain could be contained in a single pair of eyes. They looked…lost. Tormented.
Sara took a deep breath. She could have sworn this man had leaped straight out of one of her novels. Which wasnʼt necessarily a good thing.
Without a word, her dark knight walked to the car and crouched in front of the tire. Sara forced herself out of her stunned stupor. “I, uh, have a flat.” Duh.
He turned his head and gave her a long, piercing stare that made her squirm with unease. Then he stood, took off his leather jacket, and tossed it carelessly at the bike. “Got a spare?”
“I think itʼs in the trunk. But, look, you donʼt have to help…” Too late. He was already removing the spare tire and tools from the trunk.
Oookay. Sara stepped closer and passed him the jack, her nerves so tense that she almost dropped it in the process. “Thank you so much. I was going to change it myself, but I’ve never done it before, and thereʼs no telling how long it would have taken,” she said, trying to make conversation. For no reason, apparently, since he flat-out ignored her.
She watched him as he jacked up the car, fascinated by the play of muscles rippling in his arms and down his back. Oh, boy. She cleared her throat. “Iʼve never seen you ʼround here before. Are you new in town?”
His eyes darted to hers as he removed the flat tire and set it aside. “Kinda.”
Kinda? Sara frowned. While he did speak with a slight drawl, it wasnʼt pronounced enough to determine whether it might be from Texas. Not to mention he spoke too little. “Are you going to stay in Starville for a while?”
“Not sure yet.”
Hmm. Maybe he was on a business trip? Sara glanced at his motorcycle, then back at him. He definitely didnʼt strike her as a businessman. Perhaps he was here to visit a friend? Or a girlfriend? Her frown deepened as she tried to picture him with someone she knew in town. “My name is Sara, by the way. Sara Milano. I live a couple of miles from here.”
He shot her another brief look, then stood all of a sudden. Sara stared at him but didnʼt realize heʼd finished changing the tire until he placed the tools and the flat back into the trunk. He closed it with a slam and turned around, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. Her gaze followed the action in a daze. “I, um, have wipes in my purse, if you want.”
“Iʼm fine.”
Of course. Dark knights didnʼt care for sanitary wipes. And she should probably stop calling him that and ask what his name was. “Thank you so much again for your help, Mr.―”
“No problem.”
Sara suppressed an eye roll as he walked past her. Seriously? Now he was just being weird. Maybe he was running from the law and didnʼt want her to know his name. Then again, she doubted an outlaw would stop to help a damsel in distress. Oddly enough, though, his clipped answers and brush-off attitude only made her want to know more about him. He…drew her. The mystery writer in her was totally intrigued by his enigmatic persona.
She followed him quietly to his motorcycle, which she now noticed was a black-and-silver Harley Davidson. He was already putting his jacket back on. “Iʼm going to town for ice cream. Would you like to join me?” she blurted as he straddled the bike. “Itʼs the least I can do to thank you.”
Her offer must have surprised him, because his gaze snapped back to hers, and he raised an eyebrow. Sara was pretty sure she even saw a glint of amusement flash in his eyes. Evidently, dark knights didnʼt care for ice cream, either.
“I could buy you a drink somewhere, if you prefer,” she tried again. Yeah, a drink sounded better. He looked like a whiskey kind of guy―something dark and strong.
This time a ghost of a smile played at the right corner of his mouth, lifting it ever so slightly and revealing a dimple that caused a funny flutter in her stomach. Lord help her, she was a sucker for dimples!
“Maybe another time.”
Sara sighed, trying to hide her disappointment as he backed up the motorcycle and started the engine. “All right, then. Thanks again.” It was the story of her life. Every good-looking man who crossed her path ended up bolting faster than she could say good-bye. With a little wave, she started walking back to her car.
“Sara?”
She stilled. Her pulse zinged in response to the gravelly tone in which he said her name. And that slow, sexy drawl of his! She took another deep breath before turning around. “Yes?”
“Get that tire fixed as soon as you can. Itʼs not safe driving on a spare.”
“Oh.” Wow. That was the longest sentence he’d uttered since he’d arrived, and it wasnʼt even close to what Sara wished heʼd said. And to think that for a moment sheʼd hoped he might have changed his mind and decided to accept her invitation. Talk about dumb. “Iʼll do it first thing in the morning. Thank you.”
He nodded, then rode away just as mysteriously as heʼd arrived.
And she didnʼt even know his name.
***
Ice cream.
When was the last time someone had offered him ice cream? He didnʼt even remember. Probably as long ago as the last time someone had looked at him the way that pretty girl had, as if he were a decent human being. And, God, heʼd been tempted to go with her. To forget, at least for a little while, who he was.
He shook his head hard, crushing that thought. He had no time for this crap. He had enough on his plate already. He was back.
Back in Texas. Back in Starville, the one place heʼd sworn never to see again. But, hell, now that he was so close to getting what heʼd been working so hard for, he was excited to be here.
Heʼd been waiting for this day for so long―planning it, craving it―and he was determined not to let anything or anyone distract him from his objective. Finally, he would have his revenge on the people heʼd learned to loathe with his entire being during the last ten years.
His jaw instinctively clenched. His fists tightened on the handgrips as the motorcycleʼs speed increased. Blood pounded through his veins with anticipation. Oh, yeah, revenge was going to taste so sweet. Heʼd make sure of that. Only then would he finally be free to move on with his life and put this damn town behind him forever.
And this time, he would not look back.
Chapter 2
“Will that be all for you, dear?”
Sara glanced down at the big bucket of chocolate and vanilla ice cream sit
ting by the register. Maybe she should get another one. Or two. Or none. She didnʼt care.
“Sara? Are you all right, dear? You seem a little odd tonight.”
Odd. Now, that was a nice way to put it. In all truth, the surreal encounter with Mr. Dark Knight had left her feeling…deflated. Empty.
Sara blew out a sigh. “Iʼm fine, Mrs. Prims, thanks. Just a little tired.” Of my life.
The older woman gave her a motherly smile and patted her hand. Sara paid for the ice cream, walked outside, and got into her car almost mechanically. After this bizarre night, all she wanted was to go home, curl up on her couch with her ice cream, and watch one of her favorite chick flicks.
As soon as she took the country road back home, though, she had a feeling that something was wrong. Again. She looked cautiously out the window. Everything looked normal, but she knew―she felt―that it wasnʼt. If the road had been dark before, now it appeared so disquieting it was giving her goose bumps.
Sara shook her head. Her mind must be playing tricks on her because of what had happened earlier, she decided, turning the radio on to distract herself. The cheerful country song playing made her smile, and, before she knew it, she was tapping the palm of her hand on the steering wheel.
She didn’t notice the motorcycle lying on its side in the middle of the road until it was almost too late. Screaming, she hit the brakes as hard as she could. The tires made a sinister screech, and the car swerved from side to side a couple of times before it finally stopped just short of the bike.
Crap! Sara closed her eyes and drew a few ragged breaths, trying to slow the wild racing of her heart. “Itʼs okay,” she whispered, “you didnʼt hit anything. Itʼs okay.”
When she reopened her eyes, the first thing she saw through the windshield was the motorcycle. It was so big it took up the whole lane. It didnʼt take a genius to figure out it belonged to her dark knight. But where the heck was he? And why would he leave it there like that?
Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) Page 1