AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is currently available for purchase at Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Smashwords. It is an action-adventure romantic suspense novella of 30,000 words (approximately 106 pages). I am very excited to share the story with readers here on Wattpad!
CHAPTER ONE
Rebecca Cooper may have exchanged the outer packaging with new clothes and a pretty
new home, but inside she was still the same, broken, lost girl she’d been ever since the night
Colby Longenbow had cornered her in the school parking lot and taken what she hadn’t wanted
to give.
She pressed her palm to her forehead. No, you’re not. You’re better than that, remember?
But the water of her never used backyard pool mocked her as she stood on the deck, toes curling
over the edge, inches from the sparkling blue. If she was better than that, she’d stop tugging on
her swimsuit and jump in—deep end, shallow, it didn’t matter, as long as she finally got in the
pool.
What was it Dr. Rhodes always made her chant? I can, I will, I am. It sounded silly, lame
even, but in the last five years since deciding to seek therapy that mantra had given her the
illusion of a life. Yet there was something about the stupid pool that stopped her every time.
I can. I will. I—
An almost inaudible snick cut her off mid chant. If the breeze hadn’t chosen that exact
moment to die down, she’d have missed it. Whatever it was. She lifted her head. Footsteps
crunched on gravel. A prickle ran up her spine.
Go. Run to the house.
No. She would not humiliate herself by running, only to realize the meter reader from the
electric company had just needed to check the gauges. It was time to stand her ground. But the
man that rounded the house and came into view was certainly not from the utility company. Oh,
he had the uniform down pat—grubby coveralls and dusty work boots—but the rest of him...
His brown hair hung to his shoulders, a strand straggled against his jaw, drawing attention to
a face that looked as if it had been morphed in Photoshop. One half looked perfectly normal—
straight, firm jaw, dark brow over an equally dark eye—but the other half was a mottled mix of
red scars, the longest running from his drooping eye to the dent near his mouth. He was missing
a patch of hair high on his forehead, where the skin was pink and discolored.
She swallowed hard and diverted her gaze from his face. One long hand was pressed against
his side, and as he angled toward her, sunlight glinted off the object, giving her a clear view of
something that froze her breath.
A gun. Oh, God, he had a gun.
A scream ripped from her throat. She whirled for the house, smashing her toe against the
base of the stairs. The sharp pain didn’t slow her down. She stumbled onto the deck, tripped her
way over to the patio doors.
