A Stolen Chance
Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
A Stolen Chance
by
Linda LaRoque
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
A Stolen Chance
COPYRIGHT © 2013 by Linda LaRoque
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by
Diana Carlile
The Wild Rose Press, Inc.
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Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
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Publishing History
First Faery Rose Edition, 2013
Digital ISBN 978-1-61217-625-3
Published in the United States of America
Praise for
A STOLEN CHANCE
“From the first page,
A STOLEN CHANCE
drew me in with its suspense. Linda LaRoque painted a fatally flawed ex-husband who’d strike fear in any woman’s heart, so I cheered the heroine’s bravery and ingenuity in staking her claim to independence and freedom. Like Susan, I fell in love with Carson, the hero, and it was so satisfying when the warmth between them grew into a steady flame.
“The light mix of Zuni history, magic, ghosts, and legends lent mystique to the story. I loved that every character found the healing, or punishment, each needed. Even Carson’s dog Hans is an unforgettable character.
“After devouring
A STOLEN CHANCE
in one sitting, I highly recommend it. This is one trip down Route 66 you won’t soon forget!”
~Multi-published, award-winning author Cate Masters
~*~
“Miss LaRoque’s blending of modern day suspense with the historical aspects of Native American cultures makes for an interesting read.”
~P. L. Parker, Romantic Adventure at its Best
Chapter One
“I’m coming for you, darling.”
Susan Lawton gasped, terror choking off any possible sound.
How had he gotten her number?
“Cat got your tongue?” His evil snicker carried across the phone line. Then his voice sobered. “Don’t worry. You’ll find your voice when I arrive. And I will come for you, never fear. This time I’ll make sure you’re dead.”
His breath rasped, echoing memories of his hot, wet mouth against her ear, uttering ugly insults. She shuddered.
“I hear you’ve dropped my name. The name Holt not good enough for you, huh? Tsk, tsk. Another black mark against you, my dear.”
A maniacal laugh echoed through the receiver. Susan jumped and jerked the phone away from her ear.
Click
. A dial tone hummed. Her breathing rapid, she willed herself to calm down, to stop shaking. For eight years she’d plotted, preparing for this day. She couldn’t—no, she wouldn’t—let her fear of her ex-husband paralyze her. Calmly, she placed the handset on the charger. From across the room, her reflection in the hall mirror stared back at her. The new face, the one Doctor Scott had reconstructed from the mess Dewayne left her after his last vicious attack, became more familiar each day. Though the external scars had faded, the internal ones were still vivid, etched in her mind forever.
She mentally shook herself, grabbed the phone, and dialed her friend and co-conspirator, Lauren. Lauren picked up on the third ring. Susan didn’t let her speak but blurted out their agreed-upon code, “Pizza party Monday night. You bring my favorite, and I’ll provide the wine and dessert.”
There was a pause on the other end. They’d discussed this day for two years, made preparations, and developed this system in case Dewayne had somehow tapped her phone. With his connections, anything was possible. That the time had arrived seemed surreal and left Susan breathless as she waited for Lauren’s response.
“O...kay. Can I bring anything else?”
“No, I think that’ll do it.” Susan struggled to not cry. She glanced at the ceiling. A tiny spider dangled from a single strand of silk, apparently oblivious to its precarious position. Oh, to be so trusting and self-assured. “Thank you, girlfriend. You’re the best.”
****
Dewayne Holt huddled deeper into his coat and tucked his chin to his chest to ward off the cold. He’d driven past the isolated house, turned around, and pulled the truck he’d borrowed off the road so he could watch Susan’s comings and goings. She’d sure as hell screwed up, buying this secluded property. The small house sat in the middle of a large, grass-covered lot. A few trees dotted the front lawn. A multitude of pines covered the property line at the back. Anyone could sneak up on her unseen. No nearby neighbors and no street lights.
He smirked. The small Cape Cod was an insult. Susan had received their five-bedroom Tudor in the divorce settlement. She could’ve bought three houses nicer than this dump. He couldn’t wait to find out why she’d resorted to living in poverty.
Lights approached. Fog obscured the truck windows. He used his elbow to clear a spot and watched an old Ford Taurus pull into Susan’s drive. What a pile of junk. A woman got out of the car. The wind caught long dark hair and whipped strands around her face as she struggled to balance a box of pizza and an oversized shoulder strap purse. He snorted. Women and their baggage. Enough room in that thing to store a week’s change of clothes. Damn. Surely she didn’t intend to spend the night. He wanted to get this over with. He’d waited too long for this moment. While he rotted away in prison, the vision of Susan’s eyes bulging as he choked the life out of her had kept him from going crazy. Revenge would be sweet, and then maybe he could go on with his life, what was left of it.
The front door opened. He snatched a pair of binoculars from the seat beside him while lowering the window. He trained the glasses on the entranceway. His breath rushed from his chest. He’d dreamed of this day for eight long years. Ah, yes, there she was. She’d cut her hair to chin length. Susan laughed and held the door for her friend to squeeze past her. He gulped. She’d been beautiful before, but the plastic surgeon’s talented knife had made her more so. When he’d left, she’d been just a girl. Now she was a woman. Generous breasts pushed against a blue sweater. His groin tightened and raged to life at the thought of squeezing those soft mounds while pounding into her unwilling flesh. He groaned and adjusted his uncomfortable length. Bitch. Maybe he’d enjoy her one last time.
What a shame she had to die. He’d loved her once, but not any longer. No woman testified against him, sent him to the pen, and lived to tell about it.
****
Susan’s smile melted the minute she closed the door. Her voice trembled. “Did you see him?”
Lauren walked into the small kitchen and placed the square box on the dinette table. She dropped her purse into a chair, took off her coat, and folded the wool garment across the back. “Yes, parked down the road, facing this way, in an older model dark pickup truck.”
“He’s been there about an hour. I hope he’s freezing his balls off.” Susan tried to pour them a glass of wine, but she shook so badly the red liquid slopped onto the counter.
Lauren took the bottle from her. “I’ll do this. You get the plates and napkins.”
A giggle erupted from Susan’s mouth. It turned into a sob. “I’m sorry. I’m a nervous wreck. What if I can’t follow through with this?”
“Stop it. You have to, and you will.” Lauren had been her strength these past few years as they’d planned and plotted. “Come on. Let’s sit down and eat.”
The aroma of pepperoni and Italian spices filled the air. Susan’s stomach lurched from the heavy odors. “I’m not sure I can.” They both sat, occupying spots they’d designated as their own after months of eating together at Susan’s small table.
“You don’t have a choice. It may be hours before you have a chance to stop and get food.”
“You’re right.” She lifted her glass. “A toast. To the best friend a woman ever had.”
“Ditto,” said Lauren, smiling as she added, “and to a new beginning for you.”
They clinked glasses and drank. The strong red wine eased Susan’s nerves somewhat, and she forced down two slices of pizza. She chewed and swallowed each bite with care, fearing it might lodge in her throat.
Twenty minutes later Lauren removed the dark wig from her head to reveal bleached blonde hair styled the same way as Susan’s own. Susan took the wig and, before her bathroom mirror, adjusted the long dark strands until it appeared to be her own hair. In the kitchen, she slipped into Lauren’s heavy coat and fitted the gigantic purse over her shoulder. Her handbag with Susan Lawton’s identification inside hung from a chair back in the kitchen. Dressed in jeans and tennis shoes identical to those Lauren wore, she looked around her home one last time. The house had been a haven, a place she’d chosen because it held no tie to Dewayne. Though not fancy, it was comfortable and suited her style. She’d miss it.
She wasn’t ready to go, to leave her friend and all she knew. Fear, grief, and loneliness choked her. She wanted to scream and vent her frustration at being forced to run—but she didn’t have a choice. If Dewayne didn’t kill her, he’d never leave her alone and would make her life miserable. Restraining orders hadn’t kept him away before, nor would one now.
It was time. She took a deep breath and turned to Lauren. They walked into each other’s arms. “I’ll miss you.” Struggling to stem her tears, Susan squeezed her friend tightly and then stepped back. “You’ll text when you get home tonight, right? I’ll worry until I know you’re out of danger. When Dewayne discovers I’m gone, he’ll harass you to find out where I am. I couldn’t bear it if he hurt you.”
Lauren’s friendship had been a lifesaver for Susan. She’d been the support Susan needed during her recovery. Her parents were too close to look at the situation without letting their emotions get involved. She was their baby, and she didn’t want them to worry about details. They knew she planned to flee, but not exactly when and how. Her father would kill Dewayne if he hurt her again. Not that she’d mourn the man’s loss, but she didn’t want murder on her father’s conscience, nor did she want him to go to prison. And she wouldn’t put it past Dewayne to kill both her parents. The man was evil.
She’d tried to talk her folks into leaving the country, taking a trip to Europe. They wouldn’t even discuss it. They’d finally conceded to allowing her to hire a bodyguard to live in their home, posing as an out-of-work nephew. Knowing her father, the poor man would earn his keep while hanging around their house.
Though Lauren cared about Susan, she wasn’t wrapped up in Susan and Dewayne’s past the way her folks were. Lauren could view the situation with less emotion. She’d seen Dewayne’s handiwork, but not the numerous times her parents had, plus she’d never known him. Lauren was the best friend she’d ever had. Susan loved her like a sister.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be long gone before he discovers you’re not here.” They’d planted a car on the dirt road behind the pines that bordered her back yard. While Susan left by the front door, Lauren would leave through the back. Lights were on timers so it would appear Susan had gone to bed. They figured that’s when Dewayne would make his move. Hopefully she’d be miles down the highway by then.
“How can I ever thank you, repay you for helping me?”
Lauren sniffled and shoved Susan toward the door. “By staying out of that bastard’s clutches, that’s how. Now, get out of here. Enjoy this adventure, but don’t let your guard down.”
Susan nodded and took a deep, calming breath before opening the door. Her legs wobbled as she walked outside and got into the old car she’d picked out a year ago. The Taurus hummed to life when she turned the key. The vehicle might look like a heap, but it ran like a top. She backed out of the drive and shot a quick glance at Dewayne to make sure he remained put. She was alone on the street. Her headlights wove a path down the tree-lined darkened roadway. Branches resembled seeking arms waiting to nab any unsuspecting traveler. She shivered, turned up the heat, and focused on keeping the car on the road.