Digging into her purse, she pulled out her cell phone. No messages or missed calls. Daxton was with his grandmother and, knowing her, she was spoiling him rotten with ice cream and cookies.
Pop! Pop, pop, pop!
She sat upright in her seat, her phone dropped from her hand and landed at her feet. Turning off the radio, she listened closer, wondering if she’d imagined the popping, like firecrackers. The fourth of July had passed. Who would be lighting fireworks in the middle of August? In the middle of the city?
Horns beeped and a truck’s engine hummed. Nothing unusual.
A scream ripped through the night. Grace jumped, her heart picked up speed and her cheeks burned as she twisted in her seat, looking up and down the sidewalk. Her breath fogged the window and with trembling fingers, she wiped the mist from the glass, staring through the distorted shadows. Lightening lit the black sky, yet giving her little visibility. Lowering the window, the cool rain splashed her skin, but didn’t ease the heat burning her insides. Her breathing grew louder in her ears as she curiously watched and waited, looking for any sign of her husband coming back.
The sidewalk was eerily empty, yet a crowd had gathered in the doorway of the market.
Staring so intently, she didn’t realize the shadows on the sidewalk moved until the person, dressed in all black, was within a few feet of her door. A squeal barreled up her throat and she quickly covered her mouth to block the sound, jerking back into the leather seat. Her heart pounded so hard, so fast, she wondered if it would burst out of her chest. The dark frame was broad and intimidating…a man—taller and heavier than Trace. A toboggan was pulled low on his forehead and she couldn’t make out his face. Something shiny glinted in his hand, and he raised it. Was it a gun? A knife?
Did this person mean her harm?
Holding her breath, she waited, seeing Daxton’s innocent face flash before her. Who would take care of him? Would her son remember how much she loved him?
Heavy footsteps pounded the cement. Could it be Trace?
The man in black backed up. She knew without seeing that he was staring at her. She squirmed away from the window, her breath catching in her aching lungs. Goosebumps prickled her flesh and the soft hairs at her nape lifted. With shaking fingers, she pushed the lock button on her door and the loud click echoed in the small space. Little good it would do when the window was down.
He took another step deeper into the shadows as the activity from down the sidewalk grew louder. She wanted to look but was afraid to take her attention off the man. Seconds passed until he turned and ran into the alley. She dragged in a ragged breath, forcing her lungs to work again.
Dread climbed her spine, making her head woozy. Something terrible was wrong, she could feel it in her bones—in her heart. The loud noise she’d heard wasn’t fireworks, but the sound of a gun being fired. Had the man in black shot someone?
Pulling the handle, she pushed open her door as several passersby raced by. She heard someone yell out, “Call 9-1-1!”
A blast of summer heat mingled with the fresh scent of rain, smothering her, making her legs weak. Beads of water splattered her face, not giving any relief from the scorching sensation traveling through her limbs. Her senses were heightened. A strong smell burnt her nostrils—an odd odor she’d never smelled before. Gun smoke? She barely registered the people rushing by her, pushing her. Her heels clomped loudly on the cement of the broken sidewalk as she blindly followed her husband’s earlier path. A loud whirling splintered the air. Sirens were now heard a few blocks away.
Time seemed to go into warp speed. She concentrated on her breathing and each step she took, taking her closer to the mob in front of the store. She knew she was walking, but it seemed like she wasn’t reaching the corner. Once there, she stood outside of the throng. “Excuse me.”
No one moved.
With the force of adrenaline, she pushed her way through several people until she finally reached the open glass door leading into the store.
A pool of blood looked stark against the floor.
Shoes. Polished loafers. Trace’s favorites.
Another scream broke through the eerie darkness.
She realized it came from her…
Table of Contents
Front Matter
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
Back Matter
Extra - Unexpected Hero (Prologue)
Resisting Pressure (Rhinestone Cowgirls Book 5) Page 17