Ruby Falls

by Nicole James

  Ruby Falls

  Nicole James

  (2013)

  * * *

  Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Literature & Fiction

  When late one night an injured and bleeding woman stumbles up the drive toward Steve Garrett’s farmhouse, he’s shocked. But not as shocked as when she tells him she doesn’t remember anything, not even her own name. After getting her medical attention, he finds out that she’ll be sent to a women’s shelter until police can determine her identity. Instead, Steve offers her room and board in exchange for some cooking and cleaning, while she waits for her memory to return. The search for her identity takes longer than either expected, moving from weeks to months, and an attraction builds between them.

  As she searches for her identity, she may uncover more than she bargained for. The sleepy southern town of Ruby Falls holds dark secrets of its own. Will love be enough to save her, when she uncovers the truth about what really happened to her…that night in the woods?

  *This book also includes an excerpt from:

  CRASH

  The Outlaw Series

  An Evil Dead MC Story

  Coming 2014

  RUBY FALLS

  Nicole James

  RUBY FALLS

  By

  Nicole James

  Published by Nicole James

  Copyright 2013 Nicole James

  All Rights Reserved

  Cover Art by Viola Estrella

  Chapter One

  The birds were the first things she heard upon regaining consciousness. They called to each other with their singsong chirping. The approaching dusk heralding an end to the day’s activities, as they settled down for the coming evening.

  The young woman rolled over onto her back and opened her eyes. Tree branches swaying slightly in the breeze with patches of gray-blue sky peeking through them, all came into focus for an instant before the ache in her head exploded into full force. She moaned and squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pain.

  It was no use.

  It remained, increasing and decreasing with the rhythm of a heartbeat, giving her only a moment of respite before taking her into its grip again. She pressed her palms against her forehead hoping to ease it somewhat. When she did, she felt the lump, large and painful, stretching up into her hairline, and she winced. Forcing her eyes open, she examined her hand, looking for traces of blood. She found none.

  Lowering her hand, she looked around her, taking care not to move her head any more than necessary. She saw forest all around her as far as she could see.

  What had happened to her, she wondered. She must have fallen, she thought. Maybe she tripped. Slowly, she tried to sit up, bracing herself for another wave of pain. When it came, she felt dizzy and nauseous. She concentrated on breathing, slowly, evenly. Count, she told herself. One breath, two breathes. In a few moments, the nauseous feeling passed.

  Finally, when she felt strong enough, she eased herself slowly to her feet, using a nearby tree trunk for support. Again the pounding in her head and another wave of dizziness took hold of her, though this time not as bad. She looked around in all directions, searching for a house, a road, something, anything to indicate where she was or which way she had come.

  Nothing.

  Only forest, for as far as the eye could see.

  Where am I? What am I doing out here? She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. She couldn’t remember…anything. She couldn’t think clearly. How could she with this incredible pounding in her head? But she had to think, she told herself. She couldn’t stay here. She had to find her way out of this forest and back to…what?

  It was then that she heard a noise, like the snapping of a dead tree branch under someone’s foot. It came from behind her. She turned and searched for the source of the sound. It was a distant sound. She couldn’t yet see who or what it was.

  Suddenly, an instinctive, but overwhelming, fear took hold of her. Her heart began pounding, mouth went dry, and palms began to sweat. Run! Get away! Now! Her brain screamed the warnings to her. She wasn’t sure what she was afraid of or why. She didn’t stop to consider the question. She had nothing to go on now, but her instincts. So she followed them, knowing only that she had to get away and quickly, from whatever had made that noise.

  She ran as quickly and quietly as she could. Her pounding headache and dizziness slowed her down, forcing her to grab onto tree trunks for support. She desperately wanted to sit down, but she forced herself to keep going. The surge of adrenaline pumping through her veins gave her the reserve she needed. Keep moving! Keep moving! Her mind screamed the command over and over.

  Finally, when she couldn’t go on any further, she stopped to catch her breath. Her eyes frantically searched the trees behind her. Had whatever made that noise followed her? It was hard to hear anything other than her own labored breathing and her heart pounding in her ears.

  She waited. Her breathing eventually slowed. Still, there were no sounds.

  Then, from ahead of her, she heard the unmistakable sound of tires on pavement. A car driving down a highway? It had to be, she thought, judging from the speed in which the sound moved past her. She started off again toward what she hoped would be a road.

  By the time she broke through the tree line, she was exhausted. She stopped to lean against a tree to rest and raked her fingers through her long, tawny hair, pushing it off her face. Her hand came away smeared with blood. When she saw it, she froze. The fear and panic seized her with full force again.

  Oh, my God! What happened to me?

  She felt the back of her head, locating the wound, about two inches long, in the back of her head. She felt the sticky wetness of blood seeping down her long hair. She had to get some help and soon, she thought.

  She looked down the road, wondering which way to go. It was a two lane, blacktop highway. There was a shallow ditch between the pavement and trees. She looked to the right and left. She saw no road signs or markings of any kind, just a long stretch of blacktop curving up around a curve to the right and down a hill to the left. She chose the left. Whether it was her instincts that subconsciously told her the way, or an exhausted body that preferred a downhill walk to an uphill climb, she wasn’t sure.

  Crossing the road, she began walking along the gravel shoulder. It was dusk now, and the light was fading rapidly. She hoped to reach a road sign before it became too dark to read it. How long would it be before another car came along, she wondered. Maybe she could get a ride into the nearest town. Maybe it would be safer to walk. If only she knew how far she had to go.

  Behind her she heard the distant sound of a car or truck. Turning, she saw two headlights moving far down the road behind her. They appeared to be moving very slowly.

  As she watched, a searchlight flicked on, from the driver’s side of the vehicle. The beam of light moved along the tree line of the opposite side of the road…the side she had emerged from.

  Someone was searching for her! Relief flooded through her for a moment. Then she looked down at the blood on her hand, and a chill came over her. Did she want them to find her? Was the person in that vehicle responsible for these injuries? She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out the answer to that question here, alone, on a darkening and desolate highway.

  Sinking back into the tree line, she crouched down behind some thick bushes. She peeked through the branches, watching as the headlights grew closer. The spotlight scanned one side of the road and then the other, moving slowly along the road. As the vehicle approached, she saw that it was a light colored pickup truck. There was only the driver, a man, judging by the breath of his shoulders. He was wearing a light-colored cowboy hat. In the dim light she couldn’t make out any of his features.

  She held her breath as the spotlig
ht flashed across the bushes she was hiding behind. When it moved on down the road, continuing its search, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  As she watched the two red taillights getting smaller and smaller in the distance, she had second thoughts. Could it be a friend out looking for her? But why hadn’t he called out her name? Wouldn’t that have been the logical thing to do, if you were searching for someone you knew? She continued watching the truck from her hiding place until it disappeared down the hill.

  Silence enfolded her, and she became aware of the evening sounds of the forest: cicadas, crickets, frogs and mosquitoes. Still, she waited, afraid to go back out on the highway until she was sure that the truck wasn’t going to double back. Besides, she needed to rest. The pounding in her head was so painful; it was hard to concentrate on anything.

  She sat with her back against a tree and waited, slapping at mosquitoes until the last traces of light faded from the sky. Hesitantly, at first, she crept out of the brush and stepped back through the tree line. Shaking off the leaves and twigs clinging to her hair and clothing, she searched the highway in both directions.

  Nothing.

  She crossed the shallow ditch and started walking downhill along the side of the road. She felt a slight breeze on her arms. The temperature had dropped a couple of degrees, but it still had to be close to seventy degrees, she judged. It was a good thing too, since she was only wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a white tank top, running shoes and ankle socks.

  She walked for close to an hour, and no cars passed her. Finally, she crested a rise and the forest opened up, revealing for the first time where the highway was leading her. It descended into a valley that was spread out before her. She could see, far off in the distance, the twinkling lights of a small town. The clouds parted to reveal a full moon hanging low in the sky, and the valley became illuminated.

  She started walking again, heading toward the nearest lights, which appeared to be about a mile down the road.

  It was some time later when she finally reached her destination. She stopped to rest and catch her breath before starting up the gravel drive that led to what appeared to be a farmhouse, barn and several large sheds.

  Taking a deep breath, she started up the long gravel drive. She was almost to the house when suddenly a large German Shepard came charging at her from out of the shadows, barking loud enough to wake the dead. Knowing she didn’t stand a chance of outrunning it, she froze, hoping it wouldn’t actually attack her.

  The dog stopped about ten feet from her.

  She didn’t dare move. She could only stare at the white fangs gleaming in the moonlight.

  It growled low and menacingly.

  The dog had her full attention now. She was afraid to take her eyes off it, so she failed to notice that someone had approached until she heard the deadly, unmistakable sound of the pump of a shotgun. Her eyes flew up to study this new threat standing in the shadows.

  She heard a male voice giving the command for the dog to stay, but not calling it off. She could only make out the silhouette of a man standing about twenty feet from her.

  “You move one inch, buddy, and I’ll turn him loose on you!” the man threatened. As if to reinforce the statement, the dog emitted another menacing growl.

  Trying to find her voice, she swallowed. It felt as if her heart was in her throat. Before she could form the words to explain, a floodlight high up on a utility pole flipped on, filling the driveway and yard with light.

  She could see the man clearly now. He was about six feet tall with dark hair and a goatee. He was young, mid-twenties, maybe, but the thing she noticed most was the shocked look that came over his face as he got a good look at her.

  Slowly, the shotgun lowered.

  “Jesus, lady. What happened to you?” he asked in a stunned whisper.

  She took a step forward intending to ask for help and was immediately brought up short by another low growl from the dog.

  She heard a harsh command for the dog to sit and she looked up to see another man approaching from the house. This one was about an inch or two taller than the man with the shotgun, and he had a scowl on his face.

  She could tell immediately that he was in charge. It was written all over him; from the way he walked to the way he took command of the situation.

  He was tall and well built. His shoulders were broad, and the sleeves of his denim shirt were rolled up to reveal arms, tanned and muscled. He had dark blonde hair, streaked with lighter gold in places, as if he spent hours in the sun. His eyes were a bright blue, and his face was lean and tanned, except for the squint lines around his eyes.

  She watched as his gaze swept over her from head to toe. She felt mute and paralyzed, unable to think of anything to say to these two men. Would she find help here or more danger? If the shotgun was any indication, her chances didn’t look good.

  “Ma’am, are you okay? You have an accident or something?” he asked.

  “I…I don’t know. I fell, I think …”

  “You think?” His eyes slid to his companion, and then back to her. “What’s your name?”

  She hesitated, looking down at the ground a moment, thinking. When she looked back up at him, there were tears in her eyes.

  He wasn’t sure whether it was that, or what she whispered, that knocked the breath out of him. “What did you say?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her correctly.

  In a small, trembling voice she repeated, “I said, I don’t know. I can’t remember my name. I can’t remember…anything.”

  The two men exchanged a look, not sure what to make of an answer like that.

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?” the blonde man asked.

  “I…I can’t remember.”

  “It’s a simple question. What’s your name?” he pressed.

  “I told you. I don’t know.”

  “You don’t know your own name?” he asked disbelieving.

  She shook her head, the movement barely perceptible. The gravity of the situation hit her. If they didn’t help her, what would she do? Maybe she could use their phone, but she didn’t even know whom to call. Was there anyone worrying about her, even now?

  A tear slowly slid down her cheek. “Please help me. I don’t know who I am. Or where I am. I…” She began to feel dizzy, and the last thing she saw was the stunned looks on their faces, as everything went black, and she crumpled to the gravel drive.

  “She’s breathing. She just passed out,” the blonde man said.

  The two men were squatted down next to the woman’s prone body, lying in the gravel drive.

  They leaned over her and noticed the lump on her forehead.

  “Well, the blow to the head would explain the memory loss, I guess,” the man with the shotgun said, setting the gun on the ground. He reached to lift the woman’s head up, and his hand came away with blood on it. “Damn, Steve. She’s bleeding.”

  He turned her head and brushed aside her hair. They saw the wound on her head and exchanged knowing looks. They both had hunted long enough to recognize a bullet graze when they saw one.

  “Jesus, Steve! Somebody shot at her. And came dame close to killing her. If that bullet had come a fraction of an inch closer…”

  “Where the hell did she come from, Cary?” Steve murmured, looking up the drive toward the road, searching for a vehicle.

  “Damned if I know. I was sitting on the front porch smoking a cigarette, and all of a sudden Rocky takes off down the driveway, growling. I grabbed the shotgun and followed. She was walking up the drive. I never heard a car pull up. I think she’s on foot,” Cary explained.

  Steve scooped her up in his arms and carried her toward the house, with the other man following. “Cary, grab the door.” Steve nodded toward the wooden screen door as he carried the unconscious woman in his arms, up the stairs and across the porch.

  Cary took the steps two at a time, pulling the screen door open, and stepping back out of the way to let Steve pass. Steve carried her through th
e house, toward the kitchen in the back. He crossed the faded linoleum kitchen floor and gently set the woman, who was coming around, on a wooden ladder-back chair.

  She raised her hand to her forehead, and her face grimaced with pain, as the pounding headache returned.

  Steve squatted down in front of her chair. “How’re you feelin’, ma’am? Are you still feelin’ dizzy?”

  She opened her eyes. The unaccustomed brightness of the fluorescent light made her squint and blink. She looked at the blonde man squatting down in front of her with concern etched on his face. “I…I think I’m alright, now.”

  He frowned, as if not quite sure he wanted to take her word for it, as if he half expected her to slide off the chair at any moment. Without taking his eyes off her, he half turned his head and spoke over his shoulder. “Cary, bring her a glass of water.”

  She watched as the dark haired man moved to a cabinet and pulled down a glass. She noticed the blonde haired man stayed in front of her, as if he felt he might need to catch her if she fainted again.

  A tall glass of water was set before her. As she raised the glass to her lips, she looked over the rim of the glass at the two men. She noticed the fact that her hand was shaking with tremors was not lost on them.

  “My name’s Steve Garrett. I own this place, and this is Cary McBride. He works for me.” The blonde man explained, nodding over his shoulder, indicating the second man.

  “Hello,” she replied, nodding shyly.

  “Ma’am, let me get a look at that gash on the back of your head,” Steve said, standing up to gently brush her long hair out of the way. “Cary, bring me a washcloth.”

  Cary brought him over a clean cloth and watched over Steve’s shoulder as they both examined the wound.

  Steve pressed the cloth to the wound, to staunch the flow of blood.

  She winced.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I’m trying to be gentle.”