Soft Target (29 page)

Read Soft Target Online

Authors: Mia Kay

She sounded like a moron. Or like one of those people in the hallway at the nursing home who talked as much as their oxygen supply would allow.

“I’ve spent the last few weeks in Tennessee with my family, but they kept me from writing and now I’m behind. Gray offered me this place as a retreat.”

Abby knew the questions she should ask.
What’s your family like? What are you writing? How was your trip?
Those questions had been surrendered when she’d allowed Toby his freedom. “You. Drove?”

He nodded. “It gave me a chance to see places I normally fly over. I made a few notes about spots to visit later.”

“Where?” she asked.

“There’s this great little lake in northern Arkansas for fishing, and the prettiest resort overlooks it. The Colorado foothills would be a great place to hike in the summer, and I’d love to spend more time in Utah.” He’d been talking to the horizon, but now he swiveled to face her with those sparkling eyes. “I never thought parks without grass and trees could be appealing. Have you been there?”

I’ve always wanted to photograph there and watch the angle of the sun change the colors. I have three books on the Arches National Park at home.
She shook her head. “What are you wr-writing?”

His smile made her glad she’d put her effort into the question. “I’m rewriting a training manual for the basic profiling class I taught last summer,” he explained, “and creating a new class on indicative behaviors and past trauma. And I’m looking at the material we use for teaching evidence techniques.” He toyed with the handle of his mug. “It’s what I do in Chicago. I lead a group of evidence techs, and I train agents on evidence discovery and recovery.”

Evidence. Questions she shouldn’t ask clamored in her brain. Fingerprints, DNA, luminol, excavation, tool marks...

Abby stood. “Have to go. Thanks for. Coffee.”

He set his empty cup next to her half-full one. “Do you need help?”

Yes, please. Can I tell you a story?
The words bubbled on her tongue, and Abby swallowed them back as she shook her head and backed toward the steps, grabbing the halter from the porch railing.

He caught up with her and held the gate. “I’ll walk with you. I’m still stiff from the drive yesterday.”

She walked in front of him and onto the well-worn path in the grass, forcing herself to walk rather than flee.

“The trail’s easy to follow. You visit with the Simons a lot?”

“No.” She lied. Hank and Deb had taught her almost everything about running a farm, and she’d repaid them with as much kindness as she could risk, but Jeff didn’t need to get used to seeing her all the time. “I don’t. Visit.”

The sun and breeze had evaporated the dew, and now the long stalks tickled her fingers. They caught up with Toby and Hemingway at the river. Now calm, Hem submitted to the harness and trailed behind Jeff across the river and up the bank to her paddock.

“Why don’t I help with your chores?”

Abby arched an eyebrow. Didn’t he have work to do?

“Don’t look at me like that. I used to help on my grandparents’ farm all the time.” He stood still, waiting.

He shouldn’t be here.
She slid her hand under Hemingway’s mane. “You have work. Of your own.”

“I’ll catch up later. I need the exercise, Abby.”

She looked down his lean, fit frame. He didn’t need the exercise.

“Fine,” he sighed. “I like to procrastinate.”

Send him away.

He grinned. “And maybe I’ll fall flat on my ass and you’ll get a laugh. Either way, one of us will have a great Saturday morning.”

“Feed or milk?” she asked.

“Feed.” He winked. “I hate cows.”

Don’t miss
HARD SILENCE by Mia Kay
Available April 2016 wherever
Carina Press ebooks are sold.
www.CarinaPress.com

Copyright © 2015 by Mia Kay

Acknowledgments

As a new author, my acknowledgements could be almost as long as the book, but I’ll do my best to keep it short.

I have a group of friends who have listened to me talk endlessly about fictional characters as though they were real people, read drafts and bought me cheese dip to help me through writer’s block. Thank you to Patti, Cheryl, Sherry, Deb, Melinda and Melissa.

Thank you to my fabulous critique partner, Carrie Nichols, and the other ladies in the Fabulous Five—Brynn, Kari and M.A. Also, to the members of the FFWG and the DSRA who cheered me on and held my hand. I don’t know what I would have done without you.

My editor, Kerri Buckley, is amazing. Every author hopes for an editor who
gets
their manuscript and is committed to making it the best story possible. Working with Kerri has made me a better storyteller and a better writer. I am incredibly lucky to have her in my corner.

Thanks to the team at Carina Press who have worked so hard on every aspect of this manuscript. I gave them a Word document and they gave me back a
book
. My book. Those two words still give me goose bumps.

Thank you to Lori Wilde, who cared enough to tell me the truth and show me what I needed to learn.

I have a family you wouldn’t believe. Parents who never told me I couldn’t do something, brothers who might think I’m weird but never say it out loud, and a slew of aunts, uncles and cousins. They might blush that I wrote
that
, but they’ll hug me just as hard when I see them next. I love you.

And to Greg, who showed me that happily-ever-after really does exist and who has been willing to spend months staring at my ear while I stared at my laptop. I couldn’t have done this without you. I love you more every day.

Also available from Mia Kay
and Carina Press

Hard Silence, coming April 2016

About the Author

My name is Mia, and I’m a writer. I still grin when I say that.
Soft Target
is my debut novel. I still grin when I say that, too.

I’m the imaginative kid who insisted my stuffed animals were thirsty before bed, and who was lucky enough to have a mother who gave them water.

I’m the girl who made up stories while she did chores and promised herself when she was older she’d own all the books she wanted. I loved spending Sunday afternoons with my grandmother and her stacks of Harlequin romances.

I’m the teenager who gave up on writing fiction because a favorite teacher told me I wasn’t creative. Some days I still believe her. Most days, I know she was completely wrong.

I’m the woman who had my heart broken and my hopes dashed so many times that I gave up on happily-ever-after and let a job filled with too many obligations overwhelm my love of a good story. Both issues have been thoroughly corrected.

I have an addiction to movies, an affinity for tall men and a predilection for sarcasm. And, like most writers, I have a to-be-read pile that is almost as tall as I am.

I live in the Southern United States, where I’m surrounded by people who love and encourage me and where snow rarely lasts for more than a day.

Oh, and I’m the woman who just spent a good hour trying to find the title of the first romance novel I remember reading. It was about a blind musician and the woman he left behind. Her name was Carissa. If you know it, please drop me an email.

Mia

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