Texas Grit

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#u3f7271c6-60c1-5148-aa6b-7e97dc7d238b)

Carrie Palmer planted her shoulder against the back door of her cold-treats shop and, with a grunt, gave it a good shove. The latch could be tricky and required a certain touch. Humidity always caused the solid wood door to swell. It was August in south-central Texas, with the threat of rain hanging in the air. She twisted the key and listened for the snick of the lock.

The heat combined with a successful annual week-long festival had brought another day of fantastic sales to Carrie’s Cold Treats. Aside from an annoying festival worker who seemed bent on dating her, this year’s AquaPlay Festival and Cattle Run had gone off without a hitch. People were laughing again, and everyone in Cattle Barge needed the distraction. The town could use a sense of normalcy after being turned upside down for the past couple of weeks following the murder of a prominent family’s patriarch, Mike Butler, a.k.a. Maverick Mike.

The man who was notorious for living large and on his own terms had made national news after being found gunned down on his beloved ranch.

Every time she thought about his son, Dade, her heart squeezed. She’d heard that he’d been discharged from the military recently and had only been in town a few weeks. She could only imagine what her childhood friend was going through. Not only had his father been killed in a bizarre manner that had caused a media frenzy and an attempt had been made on his sister’s life, but an adult child no one had known about had been summoned to town, bringing with her a murderous ex-boyfriend. Carrie shuddered, because after her recent breakup with Brett Strawn had blown up, he’d made terrible threats—threats she knew in her heart he couldn’t mean. Before she would’ve chalked them up to him being emotional, a temporary reaction to the disappointment of a relationship ending. Now, she worried.

With Brett, it probably was just the heat of the moment that had him saying words she knew he’d regret when he had some time to think about them. And yet her problem was nothing in comparison to Dade’s. Her heart went out to him as she watched his worst nightmares play out in the news, wishing she had some way to contact him. Even at nine years old, he’d had the most serious blue eyes beneath thick, curly, sandy-blond hair.

Theirs had been an unlikely friendship. His family was one of the most prominent in Texas, while she had no parents, moving from group home to a distant relative’s house and then back into foster care through the early part of her life. Funny how little kids never noticed how much or how little money another kid’s family had. Interesting how much that changed later in life. By the time she’d returned to the same high school after being relocated and bounced in and out of another home, everything had changed. Dade had grown into his athletic frame. He’d become popular and, outside of a few glances in her direction, she was sure he didn’t even remember her name.

It was dark outside. She normally closed at dusk, but the AquaPlay Festival broke down at sunset and she’d agreed to stay open late to accommodate all the children not quite ready to wind down on a summer night. At least her business was working for her, even though it seemed like everything else in her life was standing on shaky ground. She’d hoped to find a home in returning to Cattle Barge to open her store. But she felt just as much an outsider here as she had everywhere else she’d lived since college.

The overwhelming feeling that someone was watching caught Carrie off guard. This feeling was a little too familiar since her relationship with Brett had ended a couple of weeks ago, and she often thought she could feel him watching her.

She tried to shake it off, figuring her heightened emotions had to do with the breakup, the words that had been spoken out of anger. And the dozens of apology texts that she had yet to read all the way through, let alone answer.

“Beautiful night,” a male voice boomed from behind, startling her. He was close, and she hadn’t heard him walk up.

“What are you doing back here, Nash?” A chill raced through her and her fingers tightened around her key ring as she pulled the key out of the lock. She whirled around and had to back up against the wooden door to put some space between her and the tall, thick-around-the-middle festival worker. He brought his hand up against the door, trapping her on one side. His long hair was soaked with sweat after breaking down and loading up the rides. He wore a stained tank top underneath a button-up denim shirt that had half the sleeves cut off. Threads frayed over thick forearms used to lifting heavy equipment.

“Festival’s over. Thought you might like to spend some time together before I leave town.” The smell of alcohol on his breath assaulted her as he leaned closer. She held her breath. He’d stopped by three times over the course of the weekend to ask her out. Each time she’d declined. She’d been crystal clear. There was no doubt in her mind that he hadn’t somehow misinterpreted her rejections, and standing there any longer would cause her to pass out. “Or, maybe I’ll find someone worth sticking around for and get a local job.”

“It’s late. I have to get home and let my dog out.” Carrie ducked under his arm and tried to sidestep him, blowing out a breath in the process. He moved with her, blocking her, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.

Nash was big. Too big. Fighting him off would be a challenge. She palmed the small can of pepper spray attached to her key ring and flicked the leather cover open using her thumb, hoping she wouldn’t need to use it. As long as she was wishing, she might as well go for it and wish she was already in her car.

The back parking lot was lit by a single light in the far corner. Out of habit, she’d parked in her usual spot behind the building. Regret stabbed her that she hadn’t realized how dark it would be after extending her hours. Or how vulnerable she’d be walking to her car alone after she sent her employees home early, reassuring them she could close up by herself with no problem. The festival had ended two hours ago and everything was quiet—everything but the sounds of her pounding heart rushing in her ears.

“What about a movie first?” The cinema was at the end of the strip shopping center, and as much as Carrie liked the idea of being around people right now—lots of people—she didn’t want to give false encouragement to a man who gave her the creeps.

She strained to hear voices, anything that might signal life was near, but was met with silence save for the sounds of Nash’s heavy alcohol-infused breaths. If she got lucky, a movie would end and people would exit the cinema. She really hoped so, because she might need the help. As it was she doubted anyone would hear if she screamed, and Nash seemed to realize it, too, as a show of yellow teeth stared back at her.

“I’ve been working extra hours and haven’t been home since lunch. Like I said, my dog needs to go out or I’m afraid she’ll have an accident.” Carrie looked up and didn’t like what she saw in Nash’s eyes. She flicked the safety off the pepper spray. Experience had taught her that she’d get some in her eyes, too, and hers started watering just thinking about the burn. Her lungs would seize and her chest would ache. But it would give her the edge she needed to get to her car, where she could lock herself inside.

Even at night, the August temperatures in Cattle Barge were in the high nineties. Sweat beaded on Carrie’s forehead, a mix of fear, adrenaline rush and sweltering heat. Experience had also taught her not to show her emotions when facing down a bully, no matter how shaky she was on the inside.

Carrie looked straight into the man’s eyes, and her heart skipped a beat at what she saw behind them. She resigned herself to a fight and fisted her free hand.

He slicked his tongue across his bottom lip and made a move to grab her.

She screamed as she brought the pepper spray toward his face.

“Everything okay here, Carrie?” The sound of Samuel’s voice was a welcome reprieve, like a soaking rain in the desert on a hot day.

Nash took a step back and turned his attention to her neighbor, sizing him up. “We’re just talking.”

Carrie used the distraction to dart toward her savior. He was a quiet guy in his late twenties, or maybe early thirties, who’d moved in with his elderly aunt in the same cul-de-sac as Carrie last fall. She presumed he’d moved to Cattle Barge to help his aging aunt, but she wasn’t sure because she’d been busy with the shop and only interacted with a few people in town on a personal level. Personal level? Carrie would laugh if anything about that or this situation was actually funny.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” She grabbed his arm, noticed he was shaking, and an icy chill raced down her spine. She withdrew her hand, chalking up the reaction to overwrought emotions. Nash seemed to realize immediately what she already knew. Samuel was no match. He was close to her height and had no muscle mass, but he’d distracted the worker and that was good enough for her to make an escape. Between the two of them, she had a chance of getting out of this unscathed. She wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Walk me to my car,” she said to Samuel, dodging Nash’s attempt to catch her arm.

Her neighbor shot the worker a look that was probably meant to scare him.

“Keep walking,” Carrie told Samuel in a low voice.

“The lady and me were trying to have a conversation,” Nash said. Based on the nearness of his voice, he wasn’t more than a step or two behind them.

Could they make it to her car without an altercation?

“It’s okay. Just keep our heads down and feet moving.” She didn’t want to provoke Nash any more.

Ten more feet and she’d be home free.

A callused hand gripped her shoulder, pinching hard, and she suppressed a yelp.

Samuel spun to his left to face off with Nash.

“She’s with me,” Samuel squeaked out, his voice shrill. He was trying to be a hero and was clearly not cut out for the job, because she could feel him trembling next to her. His skin had gone sheet white, and beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

Like a shark zeroing in on a vibration of fear, Nash took a threatening step toward Samuel.