Chapter One
Sierra
I’ve been listening to a symphony of snores for the past hour. It sounds like the sleeping pill in my stepdad’s food finally took effect. The only problem is now I have to get away without rousing him.
My hands shake as I carefully pick the lock he installed on my door. He said there were motion detectors in the hallway, but I don’t think he was telling the truth. Because when he let me out last night for gym class, I listened carefully and didn’t hear anything clicking off. Please don’t let me be wrong.
I never expected my life to turn out like this, to become a prisoner in my own home at nineteen. If I don’t leave soon, a worse fate than being my stepdad’s live-in cook and maid is waiting for me. One that sends a shudder down my spine and fills my throat with bile.
I don’t have a lot of options or even any friends that I can reach out to for help. Albert has kept me too isolated to allow me much contact with the outside world. But there’s one man that I can count on. My dad’s best friend, Colt Winters.
Just thinking his name has me touching the black onyx necklace that I always wear. He gave it to me after my dad’s funeral. He said it would protect me from evil and bring healing.
Now, Colt sends my stepdad a check every month and even though the funds are meant to help with my living costs, I never see a dime of that money. But I have seen the checks which means I’ve had the chance to memorize Colt’s address. He lives in a little bitty town in North Carolina. An area called Courage County. I hope it’s the kind of place where I can get help and finally live free. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, terrified that my stepfather will show up at any moment.
But first, I have to find my way to him and that means, testing out my motion sensor theory. Taking a water bottle, I roll it across the carpeted hallway floor that’s stained from beer spills and littered with cigarette butts. No matter how many times I clean up the place, Albert always has his disgusting friends over.
I hold my breath as the water bottle moves. Albert has been keeping me on a steady diet of old carrot sticks and water. It’s another part of his plan to make Sierra skinny because apparently a skinny girl will be worth more to the right buyer. I almost threw up when he told me that.
I listen for a long moment and there are no sirens or alerts. Albert doesn’t stop snoring. He doesn’t so much as stir, and I send up a silent prayer of thanks that my mom left the sleeping pills behind when she ducked out of here eight years ago. I mean, she also left me so she’s not winning any awards for parenting.
Stealthily, I move down the thirteen steps, careful to avoid the one that squeaks. The entire time, the hair on the back of my neck is standing up and I’m fighting not to hyperventilate. Stay calm. You’re almost there.
If Albert catches me trying to leave, he might move up the timetable. He might sell me off to any bidder instead of waiting for a rich one. The thought has my skin crawling as I slip out the back door. I adjust my backpack on my shoulders before crouching down. Albert is too cheap to get a camera for the back door so at least that’s working in my favor tonight.
Creeping through the backyards in the shitty neighborhood where I live takes me almost an hour. I have to be careful not to bump into the guys that run these streets late at night. While they mainly deal in drugs and guns, I know that seeing the wrong thing will get me killed too.
My life used to make sense. I used to be one of those little girls who went to Sunday school and whose mom put her hair in braids. I used to sing hymns and believe that God cared about me.
Then my dad who was deployed overseas came back in a box. They draped a flag over his casket and said some nice things. They gave him a salute and told me he was a hero. Then they left and everything fell apart.
My mom remarried Albert within a few months. He’s a chronic gambler so my dad’s life insurance was gone within a matter of weeks. Mom decided it was all too much and left one day. I came home early from school to find her packing. I tried to pack my suitcase too but turns out, this was her little escape. Not mine.
She left me behind for Albert to do with as he pleased, and she disappeared. Things with him weren’t horrible. He expected me to cook and clean. He’s got a mouth on him. He says awful stuff to me sometimes, but he’s never once laid a hand on me.
As stepparents go, I always figured I could have it worse. Until the day I realized he was selling me through his loan shark. Seems good ole Curtis doesn’t just loan money to desperate gamblers. He also has a side business selling young women to wealthy bidders. That’s when I realized I had to get out.
After my neighborhood, I jog to the local bus stop that’s covered in graffiti. I’m breathing hard but I make it just as the lumbering vehicle slows to a halt.
Clutching the knife in my pocket tighter, I hurry onto it. Public transport in the middle of the night probably isn’t the smartest idea but it’s not like I have other options. Right now, I only have one plan: get to Colt Winters. After that, I’ll figure out what comes next.
***
Colt
The days start too damn early when you live on a ranch. Or maybe it just seems that way because I don’t get much sleep. I haven’t in over eight years, and I know from experience the nightmares are worse in spring. I could pray that they get better, but I doubt anyone up there is listening to me anyway.
If I didn’t have plans to meet with an old Ranger buddy of mine today, I’d throw myself into my work. That’s one of the things I love about the little rundown place I purchased a few months ago. There’s always something to do and keeping my hands busy is the only way I know to survive.
Stepping into Ernie’s Diner, I’m immediately greeted with the scent of bacon and syrup. An old Patsy Cline song drones from the aging jukebox. The record is skipping, so she just keeps repeating the same line.
I scan the place before I make a move. If there’s one thing my time on recon missions taught me, it was to observe my environment, even in the middle of my beloved hometown. I’ve already clocked the entrances and exits here more times than I can count so my eyes flick quickly over them.
The old timers are up and gathered at the counter where they’re sitting on vinyl stools. They’re trading gossip like it’s currency while they wait for the same food that the town doctor is surely telling them to avoid if they want to keep their cholesterol in check.
One thing doesn’t belong.
Instantly, I’m on alert. My breathing picks up as my heart races. I scan the group at the stools again and this time, I spot what’s out of place. A young woman with a long, blonde ponytail wearing a ballcap. Her shoulders are hunched and she’s looking over a menu. Her plump, pink lips move as she reads, and I have a nearly overwhelming urge to taste them.
My cock jerks to attention when she shifts slightly in her seat, adjusting her ample hips in an effort to get comfortable on the cracked vinyl. It’s been years since he’s gotten anything but my hand. It’s been years since I’ve felt anything at all when looking at a woman. I assumed that part of me died eight years ago.
The bell above the door rings, breaking me out of my trance. I shake my head to dislodge the possessive urge rolling through me. I can’t explain why but I want that woman. I want her writhing under me in my bed. I want her screaming my name and clawing at my back. Fuck, I want to wear her scratches like a badge of honor.
I take a seat at the corner booth, in a spot where I can keep my back to the wall. Years of training have drilled situational awareness into me and it’s not something that goes away when you retire from the Army.
Once I’ve taken my seat, I pretend to scan a sticky menu. But what I’m really doing is silently willing that blonde beauty to turn around. I want to know what shade her eyes are and if her cheeks are just as round as I imagine.
Brody arrives before she turns around and takes a seat across from me. Like me, he’s big and his bulky frame blocks my view. I start to tell him to move then decide against it. She’s probably just some tourist passing through. She’ll be gone within a day, and I’ll never see her again. The thought has me gripping the edge of the worn table and grinding my teeth together.
She can’t leave. She belongs here. The thoughts aren’t rational and for someone who spent years gathering intel before acting, it doesn’t make any sense.
“Rough night?” Brody nods to my hands. My knuckles are turning white. I have to take a deep breath before I can loosen my hold. It’s not like me to feel so possessive and protective over a woman.
“You could say that,” I answer as the waitress approaches the table. Fortunately, the diner is too busy for small talk, so she takes our orders and scurries to the kitchen.
Over breakfast, Brody and I briefly discuss the ranch. I purchased the land along with Brody and Ryker. The three of us will work the ranch together while maintaining separate residences. Brody has already started building a house on his parcel using a construction crew. He’s probably half done or better. I’m not sure as I haven’t been out there in a while.
Brody has just now left the service. It’s his first day as a retired soldier and I can already see the lostness in his eyes. Sure, it helps having something to come back to. But when you’ve done the same thing for over half your life, it’s hard to start over again.
By the time the meal is done, Brody and I have grunted at each other enough. He tries to pay. It’s his turn but I wave it away with some bullshit excuse about his retirement breakfast. He nods and tells me he’ll meet me back at the ranch then leaves.
I wait until he’s left the diner to see if she’s still here. To my surprise, she is. Her plate is nearly clean, the only remnants on it are a small bite of pancake. I wonder if I kissed her right now if she’d taste like the strawberry syrup pooled on her plate. Damn, the idea has my blood heading south again.
I hand my card to Lorna to swipe as I stand in front of the register. I’m pretending to pay attention to her, but I’m listening to her husband, Ernie. That’s because the woman is saying something to him. She says it so softly that he has to lean forward, his big belly bumping into the counter. “Say what, sweetheart?” He asks in a thick, Southern drawl.
She raises her voice, just slightly but I’m able to catch what she says above the din of the diner. “Do you know where I can find a man named Colt Winters?”