Discovering You

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Epilogue

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

1 (#u078a007a-7f7f-5d5c-a636-6cbe4bf43d1f)

There was a bloody man walking down the middle of the road.

India Sommers’s heart leaped into her throat the moment her headlights fell on the tall, lean figure. Had she been more familiar with the area, she might’ve come racing around the bend in her quiet Prius and accidentally mowed him down, but he didn’t seem to give a damn about the danger. He looked too angry to care. And judging by his rumpled clothes, she thought she could guess why. This guy had been in a fight.

He seemed determined to flag her down. But she’d seen enough violence to recognize that he was no helpless victim, which made her far less sympathetic to whatever he needed than she might otherwise have been.

She started to slow; she didn’t want to hit him. But neither was she willing to leave herself vulnerable. She was alone on a winding road in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and she’d moved to Gold Country only this week. She hadn’t had a chance to meet more than a handful of people. For all she knew, this man could be some kind of crazed lunatic who’d just committed murder!

He looked menacing, with his hands curled into fists and his jaw set as if he’d like to take another swing at someone.

Who had he tangled with already?

She edged to the right so she could squeeze past him. Once it seemed safe, she planned to punch the gas pedal and get out of there. Whatever he’d been involved in, she wanted no part of it. Since she’d been using GPS to get home from the art show she’d attended in another town, she had her cell phone in the passenger seat. She’d call the police as soon as she was well away, so she wouldn’t leave him stranded, and be done with this.

But the minute she slowed and he started to approach, she recognized him. It was her neighbor! She’d seen him out with his brothers, throwing a football the day she moved in. The three of them—all equally tall, dark and muscular—had even hauled her potter’s wheel into the screened-in porch at the back of her house, where she’d decided to work through the summer.

Although still a little reluctant to stop, she couldn’t just drive off, not if her neighbor needed help. So she stepped on the brake, and Rod—she remembered his name because he was the type of man a woman wouldn’t easily forget—came to the side of the car.

A chill ran through her as he waited for her to lower the window. Was she a fool for trusting him? Just because he lived next door didn’t make him safe, especially if he was high on something. And even if she could normally outrun him, which wasn’t likely, she was wearing a long dress and heels.

Cursing her desire to be helpful and polite, which occasionally overrode her good sense, she pressed the button.

“It’s you,” he said as soon as they no longer had a barrier of glass between them.

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure he remembered her name, so she added it. “India Sommers.”

“Right. My new neighbor. Listen, India, I need you to call the cops.”

He seemed quite matter-of-fact. She didn’t get the impression that he intended to drag her out of the driver’s seat and into the woods—or steal her purse or her Prius. But she’d been correct when she guessed he’d been in a fight. His knuckles were scraped.

“What happened?” she asked.

He wiped the drop of blood that was running from his mouth. “Some bastard got out of line.”

And Rod had put him back in line? Where was that bastard?

Butterflies danced in India’s belly as she squinted to see down the road, as far into the darkness as she could. “Where is this person?”

“Back that way.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

The other guy hadn’t driven off? Why? “Is he seriously injured?”

Rod stretched his fingers, as if his hand hurt. “Probably not seriously, but he’s out cold.”