Jake (The Highland Clan Book 4) (23 page)
Read Jake (The Highland Clan Book 4) Online
Authors: Keira Montclair
The Clan Grant Series
#
1-
RESCUED BY A HIGHLANDER
-Alex and Maddie
#2-
HEALING A HIGHLANDER’S HEART
-Brenna and Quade
#3-
LOVE LETTERS FROM LARGS
-Brodie and Celestina
#4-
JOURNEY TO THE HIGHLANDS
-Robbie and Caralyn
#5-
HIGHLAND SPARKS
-Logan and Gwyneth
#6-
MY DESPERATE HIGHLANDER
-Micheil and Diana
#7-
THE BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE HIGHLANDS
-Jennie and Aedan
#8-
HIGHLAND HARMONY
-Avelina and Drew
The Highland Clan
LOKI
- Book One
TORRIAN
- Book Two
LILY
- Book Three
JAKE- Book Four
The Summerhill Series- Contemporary Romance
Regency
I hope you enjoyed my fourth novel in THE HIGHLAND CLAN series,
Jake
. If you haven’t guessed yet, Ashlyn’s story is next. I enjoyed telling Jake’s story because it brought me back to Alex and Maddie and their wonderful relationship that began in
Rescued by a Highlander
. I hope you enjoyed traveling back to Grant land where the next novel will also take place. Thank goodness for Logan, who we can always count on to keep us up to date on both the Grants and the Ramsays.
If you want to know more about my novels, here are some places for you to visit.
-
Visit my website at
www.keiramontclair.com
and sign up for my newsletter. I’ll keep you updated about my new releases without bothering you often. -
Go to my Facebook page and ‘like’ me:
You will get updates on any new novels, book signings, and giveaways.
https://www.facebook.com/KeiraMontclair -
Stop by my Pinterest page:
http://www.pinterest.com/KeiraMontclair/
You’ll see how I envision Jake and Aline. -
Leave a review on Amazon or Goodreads.
Reviews help self-published authors like me and help other readers as well.
Read on for an excerpt from
One Summerhill Day
, the first book in my Summerhill Series
Happy reading!
Keira Montclair
CHAPTER ONE
Caitlyn McCabe’s hands gripped the steering wheel of her car as she headed east on the New York State Thruway. Her hands should be shaking due to the icy road conditions, the frequent black ice, and the occasional sliding of her wheels. In truth, it was the scene she’d left behind that had her on edge, not to mention the big question mark that lay ahead of her.
After twenty-five years, she was alone. Her biggest fear had come true. The last conversation between her and her husband played out in her mind again.
“Caitlyn, I’m sorry. I made a mistake. She means nothing to me. Please stay so we can talk about this. Besides, where will you go? You don’t have any family.” Bruce had done his best to convince her not to leave him, but she was done. Their relationship had deteriorated over the last year. This was the final straw.
“Wrong. I have my Aunt Margie, and as soon as I pack, I’m heading out this door to go stay with her.” She stomped up the stairs to make her point, then proceeded to pack everything she couldn’t give up. For all she knew, anything she left behind would probably be sold or tossed into the garbage by her cheating husband.
“Fine, do what you need to do,” he shouted behind her. “I’ll be waiting when you come to your senses. I need you, Caitlyn. You know that, and you need me.”
Humph. He needed her. Hadn’t looked like it with her best friend from work in his arms. At least he seemed to feel a little remorse for having been caught in the act. Well, he could have Lynn, along with the house and all the bad memories it held. She had only moved to Philadelphia for him, so there was no reason for her to stay. After packing most of her belongings into her small car, she’d left the house without looking back. She’d spent the night in a hotel room, so she could make initial divorce arrangements with her lawyer, and phone in her resignation. Though she’d normally only leave a job after giving her two week’s notice, desperate times called for desperate measures.
There had been one slight hitch in her escape plan. When she finally reached her aunt’s house in the south of Buffalo, she’d been shocked to find out her aunt wasn’t there. A stranger had answered the door of the house Aunt Margie had owned for over forty years. They had bought the house from an estate sale.
Her only living relative was dead, and no one had thought to tell her.
Tears slid down her cheeks, blurring her vision, something she couldn’t afford right now, not in these driving conditions. Why hadn’t she spoken to Aunt Margie for so long? She had been so busy taking extra shifts to help out at the hospital that the months had flown by. Had it really been since Thanksgiving? She’d called and left a message at Christmas, but Aunt Margie had never called back. What a terrible niece she was.
She brought her focus back to the present. What the hell was she doing driving in this weather in western New York? Simple, she had been so upset by the disappearance of her dear aunt she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Now she realized what a foolish move it had been to leave Buffalo in this state. It didn’t help that she had no idea where she was going. She had to pay attention to the weather and stop thinking about the mess she’d made of her life.
The snow flurries had turned into a squall, and the road was now coated in a thin white blanket that hid the black ice she feared so much and covered the white lines on the edge of the highway. She had to make a decision soon, because she couldn’t stay out here in this mess. The wind whipped the snow in her headlights in blinding whorls.
She passed one car in the ditch, then another. Though her fleece gloves hid her knuckles, she was sure they were pale white from their grip on the wheel. As she passed over the next bridge, the wheels of her car lost their grip on the pavement, and the car went skating across the crystalline black surface. Just like that, the control of the vehicle was yanked out of her hands and left up to the mechanics of her vehicle and fate.
She held her breath, waiting and praying for the comfort of traction again. A sigh of relief escaped her lips when the tires grabbed the asphalt again on the other side of the bridge. Okay, she had made it through that one, but how many more close brushes could she handle? A car directly in front of her skidded, but managed to regain control.
She had to get off and find a place to spend the night.
Yes
,
she thought,
all you need to do is
find a hotel, get your most important belongings inside, and make a plan for the rest of your life.
The black of the night made the snowflakes hypnotizing in her headlights. A few minutes later, she sighed in relief when she caught sight of a distant green sign indicating an exit off the thruway. In the reduced visibility, the text was illegible. She squinted to bring it into focus, hoping it was a place with hotels, not just an exit to another highway. Without realizing it, she pumped the gas slightly and her back tires spun to the right. She squealed, praying the car would keep on the road and she wouldn’t miss the exit. There was no alternative in this weather; she had to get off the thruway as soon as possible. She took her foot off the gas pedal and managed to hold onto the spin before straightening her vehicle.
The sign finally came into view: Summerhill—two miles. She relaxed and said a quick prayer of thanks. She
remembered
Summerhill. It had been her father’s favorite place to vacation back when they lived in Buffalo. The city of Summerhill sat on the northern end of one of the Finger Lakes—Orenda Lake.
She hit her right turn signal and allowed her car to slow, only lightly touching the brake pedal, since she knew, as did any halfway decent driver in the northern states, that braking too hard or too fast could send her into a tailspin.
The sign at the end of the exit ramp was covered in snow, but it showed an arrow to the right. Though she had no idea what it was advertising, she was convinced it was the correct way to go since all of the Finger Lakes were south of the thruway. She vowed to pull into the first hotel she reached. A few more minutes and she would be safely ensconced in a warm hotel room with a TV and hopefully Wi-Fi so she could use her laptop.
The snow was heavier on the roadway here. The plows hadn’t been out yet, but she could follow the tracks of the car in front of her. Besides that car, there were two others coming toward her and one behind her. The crest indicating the City of Summerhill loomed not far in the distance, a beacon in the chilly, dark night.
One of the dark SUVs headed toward her was going way too fast for the road conditions. Foolish SUV drivers thought they were impervious to snow. Right before it came abreast of her, it skidded out of control.
Caitlyn braked her car harder than she should have in the hopes of avoiding the oncoming vehicle, which was now headed straight toward her. She stepped on her anti-lock brakes until they grabbed, but she still skidded. The sound of crunching metal and a small jolt from behind her indicated the car to her rear had collided with her bumper. Her instinctual reaction was to keep her brakes pushed into the floor as far as possible, which sent her careening sideways down the highway, directly into the path of the skidding SUV. The car from behind hit her again, guaranteeing her fate. The SUV crashed into the left side of her car, inflating her airbag on impact and destroying the front end of the vehicle. The ruined remains of her car skidded sideways off the road, and she screamed as cold metal met the skin of her left leg, followed by a rush of warmth.
The clamor of skidding tires and crunching metal drowned out the sound of her screams. As her car spun, she glanced across a field and noticed a young boy dressed in scruffy old clothes. A big Scottish Deerhound stood next to him, and both of them were staring directly at her.
Somehow she heard the urchin when he whispered, “Do no’ worry, missy angel.”
Blissful darkness took over as she passed out, still clutching the steering wheel.
Police Officer Ryan J. Ramsay III and his partner had been cruising town when they crested the hill at the entrance to Summerhill. Dave pointed just as the gruesome scene unfolded. Two monster SUVs skidded on the snow and crashed into a small sedan, shoving it sideways off the road. He hit his siren and called the accident into the station, requesting at least two ambulances from Summerville Memorial Hospital, though he expected to find a fatality in the little red car.
Another cruiser met him at the scene, this one driven by his brother Jake, who offered to manage traffic while Ryan and his partner, Dave Oglesbee, checked on the occupants of the vehicles. The black SUV that had caused the accident had stopped on the side of the road, and the driver was already stepping out of the vehicle.
“Anyone hurt in your vehicle, Sir?” Oglesbee yelled as he moved toward the SUV.
The driver shook his head, stunned, but apparently uninjured.
Ryan ran over to the small red sedan. The driver’s door was partially crushed, and the glass in the window had blown out, sending shards of glass everywhere. He tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Flinging open the back door, he found loads of boxes in disarray but no passengers, and only noticed one casualty in the driver’s seat. A young woman didn’t move, blonde curls covering her face, her head leaning to one side.
“Miss?” Nothing.
“Miss, can you hear me?” He reached his hand around the back of the seat to feel for a pulse in her neck. As soon as he felt it, he yelled to Oglesbee. “She’s alive.” He peered at her closely and noticed her shallow breaths were punctuated by slight visible puffs as her warm breath hit the cold air around her.
Then he glanced over the rest of her body, and what he saw was like a fist to the gut. Blood, too much blood, pooled in her lap, probably coming from the wound around the thin piece of metal protruding from her leg.
He yelled at his partner. “I need some help.”
She moaned and released the steering wheel, only to search for something else to grab onto.
Afraid to touch her because of the possibility of a neck or back injury, he hopped out of the other side of the back seat and opened the front passenger door so he could slide in beside the wounded woman. He grabbed a piece of clothing he saw on the back seat and shoved the now deflated airbag out of the way.
“Miss, I’m Officer Ramsay, and you’ve been in an accident. Can you tell me your name?” No response.
Oglesbee appeared outside the broken window. “She’s still alive? Wow. Lucky.”
“Yeah, but I have a bleeder. I need to tie a tourniquet above the spot on her leg.”
“What spot?” Dave Oglesbee peeked over the jagged edges of glass.
“That spot.” Ryan pointed to the protruding piece of metal dripping blood.
“Don’t pull it out.” He said with a whistle. “You could kill her.”
“No shit. Really?” Ryan glared at his partner. “Find out how long before the ambulance arrives.”
“She the only one?”
“I don’t see any evidence of passengers. Call the EMTs. Find out what’s going on. And send them straight over here when they arrive.”
Oglesbee pulled back and surveyed the area again before turning back to Ryan. “I already checked the car behind her. The guy’s fine. She’s the only injury. The other two were blessed.” Suddenly, the car behind him took off, spinning in the snow. “Asshole.”
“Get the plate?” Ryan yelled. Not that he needed to ask, any law officer would know enough to have taken the number.