Luckily, he had been fully compensated for his destroyed house, and they had decided to use the insurance money to purchase a beautiful three-bedroom home only a few miles away from their loft as a wedding present. In return, Kelsey had shocked Nick by presenting him with his beloved motorcycle, which had thankfully been far enough away from the blaze to avoid total destruction. It had been fully restored—after all, it meant almost as much to her as it did to him.
Nick had begun working for the Brookfield Police Department shortly after their move, and he loved it just as much as he’d always dreamt he would. He found that he was a natural and worked in conjunction with Tim in the FBI—they were hoping to take down several more big guns from Gianelli’s organisation after Vincent was finally put away.
The emergency clinic was a bigger success than anyone had ever expected, thanks to Kelsey’s hard work and determination, Nick thought proudly. She had not only attracted bigger donations from local philanthropists with her charm and dedication, but her outreach programmes had made amazing progress in healing the long-time rift the area had suffered from the gang violence and crime.
Because of the success of the clinic, medical school had been temporarily put on hold. She’d told Nick that she still hoped to attend one day, but she found so much pleasure in the work she was doing, she could see no reason to change—at least for now.
Despite Nick’s concerns, Kelsey had not got pregnant as a result of their reconciliation on the night of Anthony’s shooting. They’d been disappointed, but had eventually admitted their relief to each other. To add a baby to their new relationship, especially after the intense circumstances of their meeting, would probably be a bad idea. Yes, they’d wait on a baby for now, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t practise—and practise they did.
Often
.
He heard the clicking of her heels before his wife re-entered the room. When she finally did, he looked up with a smile.
Kelsey stopped and looked at him questioningly. “What’s that look for?”
“I was just thinking about you.”
She giggled and took the seat beside him, warming her hands around her paper coffee cup. “Well, I won’t ask what you were thinking. Knowing you, it’s something X-rated.”
He gave her a wink and a sly smile. “You know me well, Bright Eyes.”
“Keep looking at me like that and I’ll do something inappropriate.”
“That would certainly pass the time while waiting for them to call one of us,” he laughed.
The words were no sooner out of his mouth, than the Deputy Sheriff entered the room, immediately dampening the mood. “Nicholas Jensen?”
“That’s me,” he said and stood. “Wish me luck, baby.”
“Good luck.” She stood beside him and gave him a kiss. “You’ll do great.”
Nick nodded and followed the Sheriff towards the hall.
“Nick?” Kelsey called out.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too, Bright Eyes.”
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Running Scared
Billi Jean
Excerpt
Chapter One
There has to be some kind of mistake
.
The MapQuest directions sat on the truck seat next to Lacey, outlining that this was the right exit. She hadn’t accidentally decided to take a wrong turn. Besides, there weren’t any decisions in her life right now, only directions. She smiled at the thought. Yeah, her attempts at making colossal, life-changing decisions had landed her here, in the middle of nowhere, with no one and nothing around her.
Well, not exactly nothing. There were mountains everywhere. Huge, monstrous mountains, like the kind you could see on the travel channel seconds before some giant paw-waving, open-mouthed, roaring grizzly ate the cameraman.
Oh, yeah, this had to be some kind of mistake. Lacey needed the beach. And people. At this point, she’d settle for a pizza from her favourite beach shack. To hell with anyone else. She needed out of this truck, she realised, surprising herself with a broken mini-sob.
There wasn’t a car in sight when she pulled her truck off the turn lane and stopped a few hundred yards onto the cracked asphalt of the old highway.
Two fumbles at jerking the door handle open, and she jumped down, the map in her hand. Blue sky, a cold November breeze, clean air and mountains filled her senses immediately. One deep breath, two, and half the tension simmering along her skin disappeared. Not the unease, though. The breeze felt different from home. Smelt different. Was different.
This has to be a mistake
.
She rubbed her hand through her hair at the thought. Yeah, sure, this had to be a mistake, right? Wrong. Throughout this mess, she’d kept thinking that any time now she’d wake up, that this couldn’t be happening, that there had to be some kind of freaking mistake. Life couldn’t turn from normal to horrible in the blink of an eye. A decision to go outside a club trying to avoid a creepy guy couldn’t destroy everything she’d worked so hard to build.
But, yeah, one look at the rugged, wilderness reminded her that, yeah, one thoughtless decision
had
ripped her life to shreds.
If she could reverse time, she’d—what? If she’d known that by leaving the bar she’d witness a mob hit, would she have taken her chances with the creepy guy? Probably not.
So here she was, standing on the side of a road on what looked like some crazy Wild West movie set.
Reality sucked. Delusions worked so much better—at least for about ten seconds. Lacey hadn’t witnessed a murder. She hadn’t been beaten to within an inch of losing her life. She hadn’t spent months in a hospital trying to breathe on her own. She hadn’t been forced to testify against some of the nastiest criminals in the world. She hadn’t been left out to dry like this, forced to move, alone, to a place so remote and far from normal she might as well have been on another planet.
She was used to people, sunshine that smelt like the ocean…heck, music and noise, for God’s sake. She was used to delis filled with adorable little old Italian men, smiling at her and asking about her day. She was used to Jewish bakeries with bagels that she’d get up at seven for on a Sunday morning. She was used to coffee shops brewing wicked espresso by the cup. She was used to nice people. Beaches. Safety.
The landscape facing her she was
not
used to. Big open grasslands, lined with the brilliant colours of fall foliage. Yellow and burnt cinnamon, deep green pines next to the white bark of some other kind of tree—beech or aspen, she didn’t know—all created a wildly beautiful picture.
The view gave her the creeps. Maybe she was afraid of wide-open spaces. Agoraphobia was a possibility.
Humour bubbled up and she rubbed her face with both hands. The map crumpled a little, reminding her of the brutal reality of her new life. She was running scared. Nothing was going to change that. Not standing here, not staring off at the mountains, nothing.
So many regrets washed over her. Tears stung her eyes—she felt like they were clogging her throat. Lacey fought them and ignored the deep hollow pit in her stomach.
She needed a plan. Action washed all the turmoil aside—always had. She’d always filled her life with action. Being forced to sit in a truck for days on end had driven her slightly insane, no doubt.
The real estate office in Troy couldn’t be too far. She’d find that, then her home, and see her new address for the next… Ah, God, who knew how long she’d be here?
Forever?
And didn’t that thought put a huge dollop of pity into her pity-party sundae? Two blinks and the tears held off, so she focused on the mountains. The peaks looked white, possibly ten feet deep in snow by now. She could hike up to that snow; feel the cold on her face, maybe trail run along the ridges and ravines? They would be a challenge. Something to do. Later, maybe, after she’d settled in.
A truck slowed behind her, bringing the heartbeat she’d settled down to normal skyrocketing. What felt like ice water flooded her veins, while goosebumps beaded along her arms and a huge whoosh of adrenaline raced through her veins. The FBI agents had been clear:
do not act anything but normal.
What that meant, really, after all she’d endured, was a bit unclear. She didn’t feel normal in her own skin, let alone here in this wilderness. Besides, she doubted she would look normal to a small western town filled with redneck cowboys. She was a beach babe, had always been one, and didn’t think the changes of hair and scenery were going to make a difference.
Truck doors closed and she turned to face two guys—
two cowboys
, she corrected herself, taking in their jeans, rough looking tan jackets, scuffed boots and dusty black cowboy hats. Both walked over, and she panicked. What was she supposed to say?
They don’t look Russian
. The thought ran a frantic circle in her mind, followed by,
what does a Russian hitman actually look like?
God, did he have to be Russian? Or even a
he
? A humorous hysteria built up, but she took a deep breath and clenched her hand around the map. She steeled herself not to take a step backward as both men walked right up, almost breaking her bubble of personal space.
“Miss, can we help ya out?” The blond guy stopped a few feet from her. At least six feet two, broad shouldered, his face worn with sun and weather, he towered over her five feet three inches. His blue eyes crinkled in a smile that looked genuine enough, but it slowly faded when she didn’t respond.
She managed a shaky smile.
He glanced at the other guy and so did she.
The other guy wasn’t smiling. She caught a flash of his grey eyes in a lean, tough face set in a stern expression. Dark brows, dark shadow on a square jaw, he reminded her of the FBI agents. With broad shoulders packed with muscles, he was handsome in a rough and rugged sort of way. Her heart skipped around.
Lacey was normally a picky kind of girl. Not picky as in the guy had to be this way or that—she never knew what would attract her—but picky as in not many men drew a second glance. She couldn’t pinpoint her attraction to a certain look or background or genetic makeup she could name, but this guy had it, whatever
it
was. And he had
it
in a bad way. Her heart fluttered in her chest. Her skin tingled, and not because of the cold air. Suddenly very conscious of the scar along her temple, she forced herself not to brush her hair over her forehead to hide the damage.
She was on the run, starting a new life alone, and now her heart was tripping against her ribs for a guy she hadn’t even met. Life was strange.
Suddenly Lacey realised she’d not spoken. With heat hitting her cheeks, she broke eye contact and turned to the first guy, but the other man took a step closer and instantly drew her complete attention.
“Trouble?” the darker-haired guy asked.
Oh, yeah, he was a heartbreaker. He had a deep, kinda rough voice, but crisp and used to authority, which reminded her in an odd way of her father. And made her groan inside her head because, yeah, deep voices like that made her weak in the knees. And from a guy that looked like this? Bad, very bad.
“Trouble?” She backed up a step, stopping when her butt hit the side of the red Chevy. “No, no trouble; just stopped for a quick break.”
“Lost, are you?” The first guy shot her a grin again, no doubt trying to reassure her.
“Ah, well, I was on my way to Troy. Rob’s Realty?”
The guys exchanged a surprised look before they both stepped closer.
Lacey held her directions up like a shield, hitting Heartbreaker in the chest with them to keep him back. He barely noticed. One quick glance down, and he handed them to his partner. He wasn’t threatening, but focused solely on her, his attention packing a powerful punch to her already out of control system.
“Ah, yeah, this works…” The other guy took the map, checked it over and cleared his throat. “Yeah, this will get ya there.”
“Great.” When neither moved, she quickly added, “I go straight down this road and I’ll reach Libby, and, after that, Troy?”
“After about an hour, yeah.”
An hour.
She deflated. An
hour
? She was ready for this adventure to end now, not in an hour. Still, she was close, and that was good news. “Great. Thanks. That’s great.”
“You’re not from here,” Heartbreaker said, then seemed a bit uneasy he’d spoken. He raised one big arm and rubbed the back of his neck, reminding her of when she’d say something that embarrassed her and her neck would heat up. Suddenly, some of her anxiousness settled down a bit. Maybe he wasn’t so scary, after all. Heck, he seemed more nervous than she was.
“Yep, you could say that. I bought a place outside of Troy.”
The first guy gave a low whistle.
She wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Of the two, he was definitely the friendlier, though.
Especially compared to Heartbreaker, who was suddenly scowling. Before she could process the look, he said, “By yourself? From where?”
“Albany.” The lie simply flowed from her mouth, but, hey, this was her life now. Lying. Fun, fun. And she was so good at make believe, too, she thought miserably. Her inner sarcasm really sucked.
He didn’t blink, but she got the impression that she’d startled him.
Another whistle from the other guy. Elbow on the truck, he leant back, seeming to feel they were going to have a nice long chat. On the side of the road. Highway. Whatever.