Extraits

Chapter One

Garnet County

January 1, 2014

A Garth Brooks song played on the radio. The windshield wipers worked overtime pushing away the snow as Katie drove back home after the New Year's Eve party held at her brother's place. The roads were empty at two a.m. Not that they were ever too crowded in her small hometown of Garnet.

Katie had gone to her brother Chris's just in case her ex tried to stop by the house. After he sent her flowers for New Year's Eve, asking for a second chance, she had been on edge. Her divorce had been two years of hell, and Grayson still didn't want to let go.

Now she was stuck driving back home through the early stirrings of what looked to be a nasty winter storm. Damn Grayson. She would've been happier spending the night on her couch with a bottle of wine and Ryan Seacrest to keep her company.

Determined to enjoy the first vestiges of the New Year, she turned up the radio. She started thinking of her mother and deliberately sang along. Her mother used to love Garth Brooks.

Katie didn't notice the blue car behind her until it was practically on top of her. That little car just seemed to appear out of nowhere. It had to be doing ninety at least. On a snowy, two-lane road that was nothing but sharp turns. Were they crazy?

She expected them to pass her. Even if it was a two-lane road, people did it all the time. Katie certainly wasn't going to speed up in a snowstorm to make a lunatic driver happy. A chill ran down her spine when the driver continued to ride her tail rather than pass. For one moment she thought it could be Grayson, but this driver was noticeably swerving. Grayson didn't drink.

She slowed down, hoping the driver would pass, but they just remained plastered to Katie's bumper in a way that made her feel bullied. Her instincts were on high alert It was clear this person was trying to scare her.

And they were obviously drunk.

She turned on her blinker, intent on pulling off the road, but before she could, the driver sped up and finally made the move to go around her. Katie looked at the driver, but in the darkness all she could make out was the long hair and slim frame of a woman. She also couldn't help but notice being flipped off when the strange woman stuck her hand out of the open sunroof. Maybe if the driver had been paying attention to the road instead of giving Katie the middle finger, she would've seen the white pickup truck coming over the hill. As it was, the woman didn't even try to slow down.

As if caught in a nightmare, Katie watched the truck swerve violently to avoid the blue car suddenly in their lane. The last thing Katie heard before her world exploded was the blaring of a horn and the skid of tires against icy asphalt.

Glass was everywhere. The sting of it was in her face and neck. She could feel the warm trickle of blood running into her eye, but all that was nothing but sensory annoyance next to what was going on with her left arm. The agony was so extreme she wouldn't have been able to comprehend it before this moment. A scream burst out of her as the shock of getting hit cleared between one heartbeat and the next. She tried to tug her arm free from where it was pinned by the twisted metal that was once her driver's side door.

She nearly blacked out from the pain. She started hyperventilating as the smell of smoke filled her senses. She was claustrophobic in the best of circumstances. After five years in a mentally abusive relationship, Katie didn't like feeling trapped. She was in such a freak mode, she found herself trying to steel herself against the pain and willing the strength to attempt jerking her arm free again... even if it caused more damage.

She needed out of her car.

"l'm calling 911!"

Katie heard the voice from somewhere. Low and gruff, vibrating with panic. She blinked, focusing on it.

"Stop moving. I'm gelling help."

Katie hadn't realized she'd been fighting to get out until the passenger side door was abruptly opened, and the blast of cold air hit her. She blinked at a tan face. Light blue eyes swirled with concern, hidden partially by locks of dark hair. As insane as it was, this man was so handsome that for the pulse of one second she forgot the pain, but in the next breath, it slammed into her with such force it wouldn't have made a difference if it was Bradley Cooper sitting himself in the passenger seat of her car.

The handsome stranger was talking rapidly on his phone.

She started crying. Embarrassing. Ugly crying. Punctuated by really dignified statements about her predicament like, "Ow, ow ow."

He asked her questions. She thought she answered them correctly.

She couldn't believe this was how she was starting the New Year.

As she sat there, trapped, in pain and shivering in shock and cold, he took off his jacket and put it around her. "They're coming," he told her, sounding concerned as he held the phone. his ear. "Mrs. Wettings says they'll be here in three minutes or less."

Katie nodded, feeling a little better and a lot warmer. "That's Jules?" She struggled to sop the tears and speak clearly. "Can you tell her it's Katie Foster so she can call my brother?"

Katie actually heard Jules's screech through the phone. Jules Wellings had been Katie's attorney for the divorce and one of her only true advocates. A very busy woman and a mom of twins, Jules rarely worked 911 dispatch these days, even if her twin brother was sheriff. It was a small stroke of luck.

The world hazed out in relief then. Knowing it was Jules sending help eased some of her panic, and this handsome stranger sitting in Katie's mangled car had kind eyes. He had even given her his jacket, and it left his arms bare to the cold—really big arms. He had tribal tattoos on his biceps, and a large snake inked into the corded muscles on the inside of his right forearm. She'd never seen tattoos like that up dose. They made him look undeniably dangerous, but for some reason she wasn't nervous in his presence. She focused on him because there was nothing else but the pain to set her attention on.

He cursed when his phone died. "Hijo de de Ia gran puta!"

"A-aren't you cold?" she stuttered as she stared at those bunched, tattooed modes rather than think of the agony in her arm.

"I just slammed into your car two hours after New Years. You should want my ass to be cold." He let out a bitter laugh full of self-hatred as he turned to her in concern. "I'm sorry about this." He shook his head... "Coño. That sounded lame, huh? You can't just say sorry for something like this." He rubbed a hand over his face. "This is my worst nightmare. It was the last thing I fucking needed on my conscience."

"I know it wasn't your fault." More tears rolled down her cheeks. "T-there was nothing you could've done."

"I could've swerved the other way."

Well, there was that.

“I had a couple beers when the ball dropped. I don't even know why I hung around Chuito's when I should've left for Miami yesterday morning. I just hadn't seen him in so long. Hell, I thought I was sober. I waited a couple of hours before I headed back home, but obviously—" He paused and then picked up Katie's good hand, squeezing it tightly. "I really am sorry, Katie Foster. You seem like a sweet girl, and you didn't need my shit luck rubbing off on you."

"My luck isn't all that great either," she confessed as she squeezed his hand back rather than pull away. "Obviously."

"Feel better. I promise you a messed up arm's gonna end a lot better than what this accident is gonna do to me. You'll get your revenge, chica."

She heard the nervousness over the drinks he had. He was likely facing a DUI. He could've taken off like the other driver. Instead he was sitting there, jacketless, holding her hand.

"You should leave," she whispered. "Go, and I'll forget what your truck looked like. See if it's still drivable."

"I'm not leaving you." He snorted as if the thought were ridiculous.

"But the drinking?"

"Your friend, Jules Wellings, she knew it was me who called 911. I met with her a couple of days ago hoping to get sponsored by the Cellar. Hell, I was staying with Chuito Garcia. He lives above her offices. She knows where to find me. I promise." He gave her a sad smile, showing off white teeth. The bottom ones were a little crooked, making it obvious he hadn't suffered through four years of braces like Katie had, but somehow that just added to his charm. "So well just sit here together and face the bad luck head-on. That's what I usually do. This time I got company. It's all good."

She looked back to this stranger with no little amount of admiration for his courage. He was a fighter. Even if he hadn't just admitted to it, he had the look of a man who spent his days working out in the Cellar.

The Cuthouse Cellar, Garnet's one claim to fame, was a state-of-the-art MMA training center in town. Every day it seemed more up-and-coming fighters chose the Cellar as their training camp. It was dear he was one of those men who came here looking for fame and glory, but unfortunately for this one, his life collided with hers instead.

What a shame.