RedemptionRidge

Redemption Ridge

Denise
A. Agnew

Blush sensuality level: This is a sweet romance (kisses
only, no sexual content).

When Cecelia’s ex crashes into her life, intent on killing
her, she has no choice but to save herself. There are no heroes left in her
world. Battle-scarred soldier Jake sees her at the mercy of a brutal foe, and
has to be the hero she needs. With everything at stake, there’s no time for pretense
or lies. Unvarnished truth leaves them gasping for breath, and finding one last
hope to make everything all right.

Redemption Ridge

Denise A. Agnew

Chapter One

Redemption Ridge

Northern Arizona

Cecelia Finnegan knew she had few options left. Either she
found a way out of this car trunk or her ex-husband would kill her before
sundown.

The road hummed beneath the old red sedan and dust choked
her throat. She took another deep breath and caught the scent of rain. She
gasped and coughed. The ropes around her wrists and ankles cut cruelly into her
flesh. When Peter had thrown her into the trunk she’d twisted her right ankle
and it throbbed like hell.

Tears leaked down her cheeks as regret pierced her. She had
so little to show for her twenty-nine years of life. Despair threatened. She
could decide to give up when Peter opened that trunk. Or maybe he never
intended to open the trunk. Perhaps he’d park, leave the car, and she’d suffer
until she died alone in this metal box. Tremors coursed through her body, a
steady twitch that came from cold, shock and horrible fear. She wished with
everything inside her she’d left the mall by the front doors. She wished she’d
parked closer to lights, to people. Instead she’d avoided confrontation with
her cranky supervisor. She’d left through the back door of the Tastee Freez.
Big mistake.

A good chunk of her life had been spent with raw emotions
and impulse as her companions. Nothing wrong with that except for where it got
you in the end. This way. Stuck in her stinkin’ ex-husband’s piece of shit car.
Sure she’d taken a better road lately, but it was too little too late. Finding
jobs at the Tastee Freez and the lingerie shop at the mall had given her barely
enough money to live in the dumpy apartment on the east side of town. She’d
taken to thinking more positively, knowing that if she allowed herself to go
down the wrong path again she’d end up dead. Well maybe she’d end up dead
anyway.

God, what she wouldn’t do for another chance. Just one more
chance to prove she could pick her hide up off the floor and do right.

Cecelia stewed in her misery at first, allowing pent-up
anger and regrets to lash through her like a thunderstorm. She sobbed until her
tears transformed from sadness into anger. A deep, regret-filled sigh left her
throat. She could give up. She’d seen junkies do it when she’d lived on the
streets for that one disaster-filled week long ago. They’d curl up in their
cardboard box on the street and check out because it was all too much. Too damn
freakin’ much. It would be easier to take that route.

She would give anything to brave the lightning and rain
outside, to stand out in a field with her arms up, in danger of being lit up
like a Roman candle. Anything to be out of this trunk.

You gotta fight.

She heard her sponsor’s voice in her head as if Janey were
right there beside her. But she couldn’t be—Janey had died in a horrible car
accident a month ago. Grief tore at her. Another sob escaped Cecelia. She drew
in one breath and then another.

If she didn’t get out of here she’d never have the chance to
kiss Jake McNamara, and that would be a damn shame.

Jake. God, she wanted to see his face one more time too.
He’d visited Tastee Freez at least every other day for two weeks, and the women
Cecelia worked for explained he was a military man on leave. An officer and a
gentleman, from the way he was so polite even to the cranky supervisor. Cecelia
had wondered a hundred times where he’d come from, and none of the other women
knew any more of his story.

Maybe it was a good thing she hadn’t approached him and he
hadn’t approached her. She didn’t trust her taste in men all that much anyway.
But God, just one taste of that masculine mouth, just one chance to discover
his kiss would have made her day. Her decade perhaps.

You’re better than this. You’ve always been better than
this.

Remembering Janey’s voice gave her hope. Renewal surged
inside her. She couldn’t give up and let a crap interval become a crappier end.
Janey would roll over in her grave if she could see her like this.

“Cowboy up,” Cecelia whispered as a surge of determination
came from deep within.

The car came to a stop.

Chapter Two

Fear slashed like a knife across Cecelia’s throat, stealing
her breath. Her heart hammered in her chest, banging so hard Cecelia thought she’d
choke. A door slammed. Muffled footsteps. Tensed and waiting, she made a
decision. At one time, she’d allowed Peter to win, to put her down and keep her
there. No more.

The trunk opened and rain splashed across her body.
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled. Another flash illuminated her
ex-husband’s tall body. Peter looked down on her, his scarred face a reminder
of the night that had changed everything for her. The night she’d found her
freedom. Now he wanted to take that freedom away from her again. She glared at
his hollow-cheeked face, his short blond hair darkened by the rain trickling
down his face. Laser-bright blue eyes cut through her. Under his big trench
coat his skinny frame had the quality of a skeleton. He looked worse than the
last time she’d seen him two years ago. He reached into his coat pocket and
pulled out a knife. The metal glinted in the fading light. Thunder growled like
an angry monster from a horror movie.

He reached into the trunk and a protest ripped from her.
“No!”

He slashed. The ropes around her feet and wrists loosened
and fell away. Her wrists and feet tingled as feeling returned with a
vengeance. Trembling and disoriented, she didn’t move. He grabbed her wrist and
yanked, hauling her from the prison with brutal force. She grunted in protest
as the momentum sent her tumbling onto the wet ground.

Peter towered over her. “Get up, bitch. This is the end of
the line.”

Weak, she shoved to her feet. She considered her
self-defense training but knew it was minimal in comparison to his strength and
speed. Even when he was strung-out on drugs he’d always been strong and
ruthlessly mean.

Take advantage of what you know.
Janey’s advice came
to her again.

She settled in her mind, became calmer as she realized she
had two choices. She could fight. Or she could die.

Cecelia stood and faced Peter, arms at her sides her feet
wide apart. She kept her voice calm and shifted her face into neutral. She’d
always done a damn good job of hiding what she really thought and felt about
assholes.

“Why, Peter? What are we doing here?”

He sneered, and as rain ran down his face, Peter Underwood
became the devil on steroids. Evil seemed to pour off him. “I saw you with that
fuckwad.”

Confused, she asked automatically, “Who?”

“That man you were flirting with at your job in the mall.”

Her stomach dropped. Jake? Had Peter seen her talking to
Jake? Peter’s eyes showed none of the telltale signs indicating he was on drugs
and that surprised her. But then he’d been a bastard before he got on drugs,
and once she’d been hopped on illegal substances she didn’t care if she lived
or died. No, his expression said he didn’t have to be high to hate her.

“I’m not interested in flirting with anyone, Peter. Just let
me go.”

Wildness danced in his eyes. “You’re a stupid bitch,
Cecelia. Always were.”

Desperation pushed her to say, “I’ve got some money saved
up. Let’s go to the bank and I’ll withdraw it. All of it. Take it and leave me
be.”

“You think I’m nuts? That stupid Tastee Freez and that
lingerie shop for sluts who like to show their tits? You don’t make shit at
those jobs.” One corner of his thin-lipped mouth turned upward in an ugly
parody of a grin. “I don’t want your fuckin’ money. You’re cheating on me,
Cecelia. And I’m sick of it.”

The glitter in his eyes was cold and relentless. Making it
out of this situation could prove a long shot. She uttered a disgusted sound.
“I don’t belong to you. Now let me go.”

“You’re mine, Cecelia. You’ve always been mine. I told you
as soon as I got out of jail that I’d find you, didn’t I? That you and I would
be together again no matter what.”

Before she could reply he grabbed her right arm in a
bruising grip that shot pain through her. She gasped and jerked against his
hold.

He yanked back and she growled with frustration and pain. “God
damn it, Peter! Don’t do this!”

He dragged her, his grip punishing. “Your time is over.”

She stumbled and fell to her knees. Her teeth clacked
together painfully.

“Come on!” He pulled Cecelia to her feet and shoved her
ahead of him.

The forest seemed alive as the pines swayed in the wind. Her
shoulder-length hair blew across her face, the strands now soaked. The black
polo and khakis she wore wouldn’t keep her warm much longer. At least she wore
athletic shoes. A million thoughts threatened to clog her mind but she shook
them off. She needed clarity. Before she’d always allowed fear to rule her. No
more.

She couldn’t wait any longer and no one could save her but
herself. No one.

If he only had a knife she could run. She could outrun
him
.
She hoped.

And took a leap of faith.

She sprang loose, taking him by surprise as she leaped away
and let the wind take her feet. She raced toward the woods only a hundred or so
yards away. Her ankle threatened to give way under the pain but she ignored it.
With daylight still clinging to the stormy skies, rain poured onto her in a
drowning wave. Forks of electricity danced in the skies over and over as if the
storm searched for her. It was as if the heavens had it in for her.

“Bitch, come back here!”

A strangled laugh escaped her throat and she choked on it.
As if she would take his command to heart and stop right here to face her
horrible fate with a smile.

Her feet barely cooperated as she stumbled and righted
herself. The dark woods beckoned. All her past fears of the woods, of storms,
meant nothing under the terrible panic that drove her deeper into the tangled,
tall pines. Pine needles crunched under her feet, their carpet turning slick.
The refreshing scent of cleansing rain couldn’t wash away her fear. Soon it
would be dark, and the thought sent a bolt of fear straight through her. Still,
it would help. In the dark he couldn’t find her.

“Bitch!”

Peter’s scream of hate gave her momentum as she crashed into
the tall grasses and almost ran into a huge tree trunk. Hate filled her own
heart for the second between a flash of lightning and the crash of thunder. She
hated Peter Underwood with everything inside her. The ground vibrated as sparks
flew from a tree nearby. She didn’t have time to flinch as branches came loose
and landed in front of her. Momentum carried her as a strangled scream left her
throat. She tripped and landed on the branches with a forceful crash. Her
throat tightened and she couldn’t suck in another breath.

“I see you!”

She struggled in the branches and scrambled to her feet but
he was already there, his tall form standing over her in a heartbeat. The knife
came up.

No. No. It can’t end like this.

“Stop!” A gunshot pierced the air as a man’s voice echoed
through the woods. “Drop the fuckin’ knife or I’ll blow your head off.”

Peter whirled toward the voice, his arms going up in
surrender.

Her mouth popped open, a half scream ready, when she saw the
man come into view. Stunned, she couldn’t speak. Could barely breathe.

Even in the hard rain and gathering shadows Jake McNamara
looked like heaven wrapped in salvation. Jake walked toward them rapidly, his
handgun held up as he kept the weapon balanced straight at them.

“Well would you look who’s here? My wife’s fuck buddy. Mind
your own business, asshole,” Peter said, hands still in the air. “This is
between me and my wife.”

“Bullshit.” Jake’s voice was throaty and deep, a rasp as
cruel as sandpaper. “Drop the knife.”

“What, are you a cop?”

Jake moved closer, each step determined and without
hesitation. “Drop it.”

Her ex let the knife fall from his fingers and she froze to
the spot. As Jake got closer, impressions flew at her. Short-cropped dark hair
clung to his head and his eyes were menacing as they glared at Peter. Something
in the way he moved spelled lethal with a capital L. Above them the storm
raged, the lightning throwing light across them at intervals that reminded her
of fireworks.

“Move away from her,” Jake said.

Peter stayed put. Rain pelted his face, rivulets running
into the corner of his mouth and he licked his lips. “Make me.”

“I said move away from her.”

Peter started to comply. At least that’s what she thought. A
quick movement and somehow Peter had a gun in
his
hand. She didn’t have
time to warn Jake, the cry stuck in her throat, a mere croaking sound. Under
the storm’s fury two pops echoed in the forest.