Redemption Ridge
Denise A. Agnew
Blush sensuality level: This is a sweet romance (kisses only, no sexual content).
When Cecelia’s ex crashes into her life, intent on killing her, she has no choice but to save herself. There are no heroes left in her world. Battle-scarred soldier Jake sees her at the mercy of a brutal foe, and has to be the hero she needs. With everything at stake, there’s no time for pretense or lies. Unvarnished truth leaves them gasping for breath, and finding one last hope to make everything all right.
REDEMPTION RIDGE
Denise A. Agnew
Chapter One
Redemption Ridge
Northern Arizona
Cecelia Finnegan knew she had few options left. Either she found a way out of this car trunk or her ex-husband would kill her before sundown.
The road hummed beneath the old red sedan and dust choked her throat. She took another deep breath and caught the scent of rain. She gasped and coughed. The ropes around her wrists and ankles cut cruelly into her flesh. When Peter had thrown her into the trunk she’d twisted her right ankle and it throbbed like hell.
Tears leaked down her cheeks as regret pierced her. She had so little to show for her twenty-nine years of life. Despair threatened. She could decide to give up when Peter opened that trunk. Or maybe he never intended to open the trunk. Perhaps he’d park, leave the car, and she’d suffer until she died alone in this metal box. Tremors coursed through her body, a steady twitch that came from cold, shock and horrible fear. She wished with everything inside her she’d left the mall by the front doors. She wished she’d parked closer to lights, to people. Instead she’d avoided confrontation with her cranky supervisor. She’d left through the back door of the Tastee Freez. Big mistake.
A good chunk of her life had been spent with raw emotions and impulse as her companions. Nothing wrong with that except for where it got you in the end. This way. Stuck in her stinkin’ ex-husband’s piece of shit car. Sure she’d taken a better road lately, but it was too little too late. Finding jobs at the Tastee Freez and the lingerie shop at the mall had given her barely enough money to live in the dumpy apartment on the east side of town. She’d taken to thinking more positively, knowing that if she allowed herself to go down the wrong path again she’d end up dead. Well maybe she’d end up dead anyway.
God, what she wouldn’t do for another chance. Just one more chance to prove she could pick her hide up off the floor and do right.
Cecelia stewed in her misery at first, allowing pent-up anger and regrets to lash through her like a thunderstorm. She sobbed until her tears transformed from sadness into anger. A deep, regret-filled sigh left her throat. She could give up. She’d seen junkies do it when she’d lived on the streets for that one disaster-filled week long ago. They’d curl up in their cardboard box on the street and check out because it was all too much. Too damn freakin’ much. It would be easier to take that route.
She would give anything to brave the lightning and rain outside, to stand out in a field with her arms up, in danger of being lit up like a Roman candle. Anything to be out of this trunk.
You gotta fight.
She heard her sponsor’s voice in her head as if Janey were right there beside her. But she couldn’t be—Janey had died in a horrible car accident a month ago. Grief tore at her. Another sob escaped Cecelia. She drew in one breath and then another.
If she didn’t get out of here she’d never have the chance to kiss Jake McNamara, and that would be a damn shame.
Jake. God, she wanted to see his face one more time too. He’d visited Tastee Freez at least every other day for two weeks, and the women Cecelia worked for explained he was a military man on leave. An officer and a gentleman, from the way he was so polite even to the cranky supervisor. Cecelia had wondered a hundred times where he’d come from, and none of the other women knew any more of his story.
Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t approached him and he hadn’t approached her. She didn’t trust her taste in men all that much anyway. But God, just one taste of that masculine mouth, just one chance to discover his kiss would have made her day. Her decade perhaps.
You’re better than this. You’ve always been better than this.
Remembering Janey’s voice gave her hope. Renewal surged inside her. She couldn’t give up and let a crap interval become a crappier end. Janey would roll over in her grave if she could see her like this.
“Cowboy up,” Cecelia whispered as a surge of determination came from deep within.
The car came to a stop.
Chapter Two
Fear slashed like a knife across Cecelia’s throat, stealing her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, banging so hard Cecelia thought she’d choke. A door slammed. Muffled footsteps. Tensed and waiting, she made a decision. At one time, she’d allowed Peter to win, to put her down and keep her there. No more.
The trunk opened and rain splashed across her body. Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Another flash illuminated her ex-husband’s tall body. Peter looked down on her, his scarred face a reminder of the night that had changed everything for her. The night she’d found her freedom. Now he wanted to take that freedom away from her again. She glared at his hollow-cheeked face, his short blond hair darkened by the rain trickling down his face. Laser-bright blue eyes cut through her. Under his big trench coat his skinny frame had the quality of a skeleton. He looked worse than the last time she’d seen him two years ago. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a knife. The metal glinted in the fading light. Thunder growled like an angry monster from a horror movie.
He reached into the trunk and a protest ripped from her. “No!”
He slashed. The ropes around her feet and wrists loosened and fell away. Her wrists and feet tingled as feeling returned with a vengeance. Trembling and disoriented, she didn’t move. He grabbed her wrist and yanked, hauling her from the prison with brutal force. She grunted in protest as the momentum sent her tumbling onto the wet ground.
Peter towered over her. “Get up, bitch. This is the end of the line.”
Weak, she shoved to her feet. She considered her self-defense training but knew it was minimal in comparison to his strength and speed. Even when he was strung-out on drugs he’d always been strong and ruthlessly mean.
Take advantage of what you know. Janey’s advice came to her again.
She settled in her mind, became calmer as she realized she had two choices. She could fight. Or she could die.
Cecelia stood and faced Peter, arms at her sides her feet wide apart. She kept her voice calm and shifted her face into neutral. She’d always done a damn good job of hiding what she really thought and felt about assholes.
“Why, Peter? What are we doing here?”
He sneered, and as rain ran down his face, Peter Underwood became the devil on steroids. Evil seemed to pour off him. “I saw you with that fuckwad.”
Confused, she asked automatically, “Who?”
“That man you were flirting with at your job in the mall.”
Her stomach dropped. Jake? Had Peter seen her talking to Jake? Peter’s eyes showed none of the telltale signs indicating he was on drugs and that surprised her. But then he’d been a bastard before he got on drugs, and once she’d been hopped on illegal substances she didn’t care if she lived or died. No, his expression said he didn’t have to be high to hate her.
“I’m not interested in flirting with anyone, Peter. Just let me go.”
Wildness danced in his eyes. “You’re a stupid bitch, Cecelia. Always were.”
Desperation pushed her to say, “I’ve got some money saved up. Let’s go to the bank and I’ll withdraw it. All of it. Take it and leave me be.”
“You think
I’m nuts? That stupid Tastee Freez and that lingerie shop for sluts who like to show their tits? You don’t make shit at those jobs.” One corner of his thin-lipped mouth turned upward in an ugly parody of a grin. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money. You’re cheating on me, Cecelia. And I’m sick of it.”
The glitter in his eyes was cold and relentless. Making it out of this situation could prove a long shot. She uttered a disgusted sound. “I don’t belong to you. Now let me go.”
“You’re mine, Cecelia. You’ve always been mine. I told you as soon as I got out of jail that I’d find you, didn’t I? That you and I would be together again no matter what.”
Before she could reply he grabbed her right arm in a bruising grip that shot pain through her. She gasped and jerked against his hold.
He yanked back and she growled with frustration and pain. “God damn it, Peter! Don’t do this!”
He dragged her, his grip punishing. “Your time is over.”
She stumbled and fell to her knees. Her teeth clacked together painfully.
“Come on!” He pulled Cecelia to her feet and shoved her ahead of him.
The forest seemed alive as the pines swayed in the wind. Her shoulder-length hair blew across her face, the strands now soaked. The black polo and khakis she wore wouldn’t keep her warm much longer. At least she wore athletic shoes. A million thoughts threatened to clog her mind but she shook them off. She needed clarity. Before she’d always allowed fear to rule her. No more.
She couldn’t wait any longer and no one could save her but herself. No one.
If he only had a knife she could run. She could outrun him. She hoped.
And took a leap of faith.
She sprang loose, taking him by surprise as she leaped away and let the wind take her feet. She raced toward the woods only a hundred or so yards away. Her ankle threatened to give way under the pain but she ignored it. With daylight still clinging to the stormy skies, rain poured onto her in a drowning wave. Forks of electricity danced in the skies over and over as if the storm searched for her. It was as if the heavens had it in for her.
“Bitch, come back here!”
A strangled laugh escaped her throat and she choked on it. As if she would take his command to heart and stop right here to face her horrible fate with a smile.
Her feet barely cooperated as she stumbled and righted herself. The dark woods beckoned. All her past fears of the woods, of storms, meant nothing under the terrible panic that drove her deeper into the tangled, tall pines. Pine needles crunched under her feet, their carpet turning slick. The refreshing scent of cleansing rain couldn’t wash away her fear. Soon it would be dark, and the thought sent a bolt of fear straight through her. Still, it would help. In the dark he couldn’t find her.
“Bitch!”
Peter’s scream of hate gave her momentum as she crashed into the tall grasses and almost ran into a huge tree trunk. Hate filled her own heart for the second between a flash of lightning and the crash of thunder. She hated Peter Underwood with everything inside her. The ground vibrated as sparks flew from a tree nearby. She didn’t have time to flinch as branches came loose and landed in front of her. Momentum carried her as a strangled scream left her throat. She tripped and landed on the branches with a forceful crash. Her throat tightened and she couldn’t suck in another breath.
“I see you!”
She struggled in the branches and scrambled to her feet but he was already there, his tall form standing over her in a heartbeat. The knife came up.
No. No. It can’t end like this.
“Stop!” A gunshot pierced the air as a man’s voice echoed through the woods. “Drop the fuckin’ knife or I’ll blow your head off.”
Peter whirled toward the voice, his arms going up in surrender.
Her mouth popped open, a half scream ready, when she saw the man come into view. Stunned, she couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.
Even in the hard rain and gathering shadows Jake McNamara looked like heaven wrapped in salvation. Jake walked toward them rapidly, his handgun held up as he kept the weapon balanced straight at them.
“Well would you look who’s here? My wife’s fuck buddy. Mind your own business, asshole,” Peter said, hands still in the air. “This is between me and my wife.”
“Bullshit.” Jake’s voice was throaty and deep, a rasp as cruel as sandpaper. “Drop the knife.”
“What, are you a cop?”
Jake moved closer, each step determined and without hesitation. “Drop it.”
Her ex let the knife fall from his fingers and she froze to the spot. As Jake got closer, impressions flew at her. Short-cropped dark hair clung to his head and his eyes were menacing as they glared at Peter. Something in the way he moved spelled lethal with a capital L. Above them the storm raged, the lightning throwing light across them at intervals that reminded her of fireworks.
“Move away from her,” Jake said.
Peter stayed put. Rain pelted his face, rivulets running into the corner of his mouth and he licked his lips. “Make me.”
“I said move away from her.”
Peter started to comply. At least that’s what she thought. A quick movement and somehow Peter had a gun in his hand. She didn’t have time to warn Jake, the cry stuck in her throat, a mere croaking sound. Under the storm’s fury two pops echoed in the forest.
Chapter Three
On instinct, Cecelia dropped to the ground. Her palms fell on rain-soaked pine needles and brambles, burning and sticking. She expected to see Jake fall and to feel Peter’s anger on her head. Instead her ex dropped like a rock, crumpling as a puppet does when its master decides the show is over. Peter was a rag doll in the dirt, his eyes staring at her and unblinking. Relief kept her on her hands and knees, weak and still trying to catch her breath.
Confusion whirled in her head and time seemed to slow. Jake was saying something to her, shouting above another vicious roar of thunder. She could see his lips moving and that was all. He ran to Peter and checked vitals.
Jake started her way, and he’d put his gun away somewhere.
Unbidden fear rose up. Jake was an unknown. Another stranger.
She came to her feet in a rush, her ankle protesting. She put a hand out in defense. “Don’t touch me.”
He halted, eyes narrowed. With a sharply cut jaw, dark brows and a cruel mouth, he would frighten the hell out of most women. A day’s worth of beard made him more pirate than savior. Which one was he?
“Are you all right?” Jake’s eyes held genuine concern. “Are you hurt?”
His voice had a rumbling quality, a low and lingering sound that brushed against nerves she didn’t know she had until now. Fear still owned the day. How could he be so cool when he’d just killed a man?
“You shot him.” Her words came out calm. She was stunned, unable to put two thoughts together that made much sense.
“Yeah.” One of his dark brows tilted upward, for the moment Jake looked more devil than saint.
Many men would have defended what they’d done, pointed out the obvious, that Peter had shot first. She’d seen Peter shoot, seen this man drop to one knee and take aim a split second later.
She covered her face as reality crawled its way around inside her like a worm and threatened to eat her alive. “Maybe I could have done something to stop it.”
He grunted. “From where I was standing it looked cut and dried what would happen if I hadn’t stopped him. He would have killed you and me both given the chance.”
His answer was given in dispassionate tones but as she looked at him closer she saw his chest rising and falling with agitation. Anger filled his eyes. Was it directed toward her or the dead man?
He ran his hand over his face. “Who was he?”
“My ex-husband. I can’t believe that dirtbag was ever my husband.”
She wanted to scream and maybe to cry. Anything calmer and more reasonable would seem ridiculous and unfeeling under the circumstances.
He
held out his hand. “Come on. Let’s get you someplace warm.”
She stared at his outstretched hand. “You…do you have a cell phone? We have to call the cops.”
“Yeah, but it’s dead.” Thunder rumbled and blocked his next words. He tried again. “I was driving back to my cabin when my crappy car died. Then I tried my cheap cell phone and it’s dead too. I’m not much of a mechanic, so the car is toast until I can call the auto club. The rain started and I guess your ex didn’t see me at the side of the road. When he stopped a hundred yards down I saw him get out of the car. I headed toward him hoping he’d have a cell phone. That’s when I saw him take you out of the trunk.”
“And you followed us,” she whispered.
He nodded.
Shame and gratefulness mixed with fear still bounced around in her. “You put your life on the line for me. Not many people would do that.”
“I know a lot of people who would have done the same thing.”
His modesty impressed her too. “Oh God. I’m so sorry. I…he could have killed you. Thank God he was always a lousy shot.” An inappropriate and humorless laugh escaped. “I thought all he had was a knife.”
She closed her eyes and rain ran down her eyelids, across her face, and teased her lips. Shivers racked her body without remorse. She wrapped her arms around herself, and when she opened her eyes her rescuer had stepped nearer.
He took another step closer and then another. “Don’t apologize for him. A man should never put his hands on a woman in anger. No excuses. Ever.”
She’d heard the platitudes before but never from the men in her life. Old habits died hard though, and distrust stayed.
“You expect me to believe your car and your cell phone died at the same time?” she asked in suspicion.
He snorted. “Hell no. I wouldn’t believe it either, but it’s true.”
She realized with a jolt that he stood close to her now. She took a step away, a fine trembling radiating from her center.
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