The perfect southern belle. The woman her aunt had raised her to be. She wanted to vomit. No, there was nothing wrong with it for the right woman, but it wasn’t her anymore. It had never been. She wanted her callous-handed, gruff man—muddy boots and all.
She knew the moment her words registered. He blinked his eyes in disbelief then a smile lit his face. He looked every bit the proud, demented husband. Bile climbed her throat and bubbled.
But he turned to follow her as she both stepped closer to him and further from Harlan and Sandy. The gun shifted away as his focus trained on her. She acted as if she were slowly moving to leave with him.
“Did you have a nice visit, Katherine?”
She controlled her wince, reminding herself to play along.
“I did. I—” A shadow moved behind Bailey as his brow furrowed in confusion at her pause. “I found something I really think you’ll like, but it needs to be a surprise. You know, to keep with tradition. It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride’s dress before the wedding.” She drew his attention until he turned yet again, ensuring his side faced the shadow she’d seen move.
He beamed just as Trent silently stepped forward, pistol in hand. Stone hard, his face looked honed by thunder. Steady, solid, his stance never wavered and his gun appeared to be a part of him, one deadly weapon, made of man and steel.
Trent’s gun boomed and blood spattered from Phillip Bailey’s hand.
His gun hit the ground.
She flinched and Sandy cried out in shock.
“Harlan!” Trent called.
“I’m on it.” He was already moving.
Trent stood still, rock steady with his gun pointed at a confused Bailey. Sandy picked up her phone to call 911, and Kate sagged with relief as the woman’s shaky voice spoke to the dispatcher.
She watched, silent and still, as Harlan left and quickly returned with a length of rope. She wanted nothing more than to run to Trent’s arms, but that would have to wait until they’d cleared out the trash.
The moment Harlan restrained Bailey, Trent’s gaze met hers. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. She’d always be okay as long has she had him by her side.
“Faster Twent, faster!” Kylie rocked her body atop the old mare who plodded along as if completely unaware she carried a rambunctious child on her back.
“Not yet. You need to settle down so you don’t scare old Scarlet.” Kate watched with a smile. She loved the way he used the same patience he held for his horses on Kylie. Scarlet was older than dirt, and nothing short of a nuclear blast could nudge her into a run, but Trent was right. Kylie needed to learn to slow down around the horses. She was used to Joe’s lazy cattle and it was possible that her daddy might let her run a little wild.
What good was childhood if you couldn’t enjoy it to the fullest?
“I sowwy, Twent.” Immediately, she stopped rocking then Trent continued to lead them around the paddock.
“Daddy! Wait. Does that mean I have weave now?” She turned to Kate and asked the question with all the seriousness of a heart attack as Joe’s truck came up the driveway.
“I don’t know, honey. He’s a little bit early, but even if you have to leave, you can come back soon. Okay?” Although it might be Kylie’s first visit to Walker Farms, everyone doted on her. Harlan and Sandy happened by and fell in love with her on the spot.
“Okay.” With her enthusiasm dimmed, she greeted her father with a wave.
Joe met her at the fence and they watched the riding lesson in content silence. Trent and Scarlet finished their meandering lap and returned. He helped Kylie down.
“All right, Kylie. Why don’t you go up to the big house and wash your hands? Sandy’s waiting to drive you up. She’s been known to have cookies and milk for good girls.”
“Yay!” She threw her arms up in the air. Catching herself, she lowered her voice. “Tank you, Twent.” She’d slowed her pace and walked to a smiling Sandy who sat waiting in her SUV.
Trent smiled after her cousin and then turned to Joe. “If you’re in a hurry, I’ll follow in a few minutes and Kylie can take her cookies to go, if that’s okay.”
“No, it’s fine. I need to talk to you and Kate for a few minutes. It’s a conversation not fit for little ears. Trent climbed over the rail in an easy two-stepped swing that made her want to swoon.
What was it about men with long muscled thighs in snug faded jeans? She’d never tire of watching him work around the farm.
“They searched Bailey’s house and offices today. It took a little time to get the warrant in order. They wanted to make sure every T was crossed and every I dotted. Long story short, they found a pair of blood-spattered boots in his garage. Size fourteen. They’d had tissue paper crammed into the toes as if someone with smaller feet had worn them. It’ll take some time before the tests come back, but everyone is sure the DNA will match Preston’s. The good news is, there’s plenty of evidence to put Bailey away. The bad news? There is nothing anywhere that points to Boyd Campbell. He’s a ghost.”
“Fuck.”
“What are the chances that he’ll come after Kylie or me?” She hated to voice the thought, but it was there, a monster lurking in the dark.
“Slim.” Trent didn’t look happy about there being even the slightest chance.
“None.” Joe answered at the same time.
“Chances are he was a hired gun, so now that the money is gone, he’ll be gone too.” Trent tucked her into his side, her new favorite place to be. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.
“I agree, and so does Bowie. He thinks that by placing the boots in Bailey’s garage that was his way of tying up loose ends before he left town. He’ll want to be as far away from Bailey’s trouble as possible.”
“So Trent’s really in the clear?” She knew it in her heart, but she wanted the world to know it as well. She wouldn’t rest easy until it was official.
“Yeah, cuz, as soon as the DNA comes back, he’s golden.”
She smiled.
“Let’s go get Pickle before we have to roll her out of the house. Sandy has never met a skinny kid she could resist feeding.” Each time Trent used her little cousin’s silly nickname, her breath caught. Knowing that hitch would stay with her for the rest of her days settled something in deep inside her. She’d never been happier.
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The End
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Catching Cara!
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Amy J. Hawthorn
An Excerpt from Catching Cara
Dark Horse, Inc: Book Two
She flinched as a flash of white light split sky in two. Gripping the wheel tighter in one hand, she used the other to increase the speed of her windshield wipers before gripping the wheel again. Water roared down from the sky even faster, making the blades nearly worthless, even though they swiped back and forth at warp speed.
Thunder boomed, and she choked back a cry of terror. Her palms grew slick and her heart fluttered against her sternum. Dark spots swam in her vision.
She drew in a deep, stuttered breath and told herself it would be okay. There was nothing to be afraid of. Crazy intense summer storms boiled up in Kentucky all the time. As a perfect example of their fury, this one was wild, dramatic, and violent. She knew that, nine times out of ten, they blew themselves out just as quickly as they appeared.
But it wasn’t the storm itself that scared her so badly. The thunder that came with it turned her normally confident and in contro
l self into a whimpering mess. She hated that more than anything else. After all she’d been through, something as simple as a summer storm shouldn’t still contain the power to cripple her.
Her shoulders ached from the tension of holding the steering wheel in a white-knuckled death grip. She focused on slowing her breathing. In through her nose. Out through her mouth.
The cascade of water slamming against her car slowed to an almost manageable rainfall.
She drew in another deep breath. Exhaled. She was fine.
Until gunfire hit her car.
Bang! Bang! Bang bang bang!
No. She was fine. It was hail beating her car to death, not bullets. She was in Kentucky and headed home. She saw the blur of rolling green fields out the window to her left and a forest of madly waving trees out the right. This was not Afghanistan.
She slowed her already crawling car even more and prayed that no one came up too quickly behind her on the country road. I can do this. I’ll be okay. The winding road straightened out in about another mile and a half. She could make it that far then pull over in the little church parking lot.
A blinding flash of blue-white light arced above her. She closed her eyes and flinched. Less than a second later, the world around her exploded as thunder boomed, shaking her car. She opened her eyes just in time to see a tree crash on the road ahead of her.
“Shit!” Adrenaline rushed into her bloodstream, and Cara’s heart jumped into her throat. She jerked the steering wheel to the right as the wet gray and green scenery blurred. The road curved left, and she slammed on her brakes as the asphalt ended. The world around her shook as the frontend of her car dipped. She gritted her teeth, bracing for impact.
A loud thump shook her, and she winced at the sound of spinning tires. She looked up and turned her head to the left and right, trying to get her bearings.
Dropping her head to the steering wheel, she gave into her terror, releasing a whimper. She didn’t hear the violent storm throwing a tantrum around her, but a war that raged years ago. Gunfire and explosions. Shouts and screams.
One scream in particular stood out from the rest.
Justin.
Frozen in horror as the IED detonated between them—maybe fifty feet away—the distance had felt like miles when she couldn’t get to her friend.
She fought to break free of the flashback. That was a long time ago, and she couldn’t do a damn thing about it. She hadn’t been able to then, and she sure as hell couldn’t now. She focused on her breathing. She could do this. She’d survived a war. She could make it through a crazy summer storm.
She opened and closed her hands, easing the tension.
The rain softened to a drizzle. Thunder rumbled in the distance but in a low, subdued growl. She could handle that.
She took another deep breath and focused on the here and now. She needed to get out and see about her car. She looked in the backseat and found an old sweatshirt. It’d have to do. She cursed her clothing choices as she stepped out of the car on shaky legs.
What she wouldn’t give to be in a pair of ACU pants or even jeans. But no, she hadn’t wanted to listen to her mother’s harping. What had it gotten her? Stuck in the rain, wearing a flimsy skirt and strappy sandals.
She focused on the mess in front of herself and cursed.
After nearly completing the four-hour drive back, she wrecked her car less than thirty minutes from home. She was a mere fifteen miles from the Bourbon County line. She couldn’t say she was surprised. With her track record, she should probably be relieved no one was hurt.
Damn it all. How would she get home? Thanks to a fall and hip surgery, her mother couldn’t drive, and it had been so long since she’d been home that she was virtually a stranger. She had no one to call.
She brushed her damp hair from her face and steadied herself. She’d been in far worse situations. She drew from her past and took another steadying breath. Hell, it might have been ages ago, but she’d spent a year in Afghanistan. She could walk home if she needed to. Of course she was wearing the wrong shoes. She looked down to the lavender polish on her toes. Well, if she were wearing boots, she could have walked, but she couldn’t leave her car.
Knowing it was useless, she felt compelled to at least try to get her car out of the ditch. She got back inside and shifted into reverse and crossed her fingers. She eased her foot onto the gas pedal. The car did a little shimmy and made an ugly sound.
She’d come home to take care of her mother. Now she had a mess of her own.
She dropped her head to the steering wheel and groaned. Who could she call?
About the Author
As a teen, Amy read horror and fantasy as fast as she could get her hands on it. She'd never met a Dean Koontz book she didn't like.
Until one day at the bookstore she stumbled across a pretty blue cover complete with a bare-chested, sword-wielding Highlander. That Highlander and his heroine showed her the magic of a happily-ever-after and she's never looked back.
She's read and written her way from Kentucky to Arizona and California then back to Kentucky which she and her family now call home.
Who says characters with a dark side can't find love?
Stay connected to Amy
@AJHawthorn
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amyjhawthorn.com
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Other Works By Amy J. Hawthorn
Dark Horse, Inc
Catching Cara
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Dillon's Gift
Azrael's Light - Unearth 1
Sunlight's Kiss - Unearth 2
Lacey Temptations - Crave 1
A Craving for Two - Crave 2
Protecting Kate: Dark Horse, Inc: Book 1 Page 25