West of Nowhere

• Other Bella Books by KG MacGregor
  
• About the Author
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• Chapter Twenty-Five
  
• Liberty Call
  

Copyright © 2013 by KG MacGregor

Bella Books, Inc.

P.O. 10543

Tallahassee, FL 32302

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.

First published 2013

eBook released 2013

Editor: Katherine V. Forrest

Cover Designer: Kiaro Creative

ISBN 13: 978-1-59493-345-5

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Malicious Pursuit

House on Sandstone

Mulligan

Just This Once

Sumter Point

Out of Love

Secrets So Deep

Worth Every Step

Sea Legs

Photographs of Claudia

Rhapsody

Playing with Fuego

Shaken Series:

Without Warning

Aftershock

Small Packages

Mother Load

For those who’ve been asking: no, the books don’t get easier to write. This page in particular always proves a challenge because the people who have a hand in making my work the best it can be deserve special recognition, and it grows harder and harder to come up with words of gratitude that don’t sound rote. Their jobs don’t get easier either. I still forget the visuals, stilt the dialogue and flat-line the tension when I’m supposed to be building to a climax. I also drop, add, confuse, misspell and repeat words. It is my great fortune to be surrounded by people who know better and save me from myself. Heartfelt thanks to my editor Katherine V. Forrest, my partner Jenny, my friend Karen Appleby, and all the professionals at Bella Books.

Thanks also to Commander Chris May, US Navy, Retired, for sharing her expertise on some of the technical aspects of Navy careers and advancement. And thank you also for your service. Though I was raised in a US Marine Corps household, I discovered in my research for this book a fascination for the navy. If I were thirty years younger…okay, forty.

Please know that, despite all the assistance I receive in my writing and research, the editorial decisions are mine alone, along with each and every error you might find.

A former teacher and market research consultant, KG MacGregor holds a PhD in journalism from UNC-Chapel Hill. Infatuation with
Xena: Warrior Princess
fan fiction prompted her to try her own hand at storytelling in 2002. In 2005, she signed with Bella Books, which published the Golden Crown finalist
Just This Once
. Her sixth Bella novel,
Out of Love
, won the Lambda Literary Award for Women’s Romance and the Golden Crown Award in Lesbian Romance. She picked up Goldies also for
Without Warning
,
Worth Every Step
and
Photographs of Claudia
(Contemporary Romance), and
Secrets So Deep
(Romantic Suspense).

Other honors include the Lifetime Achievement Award from the Royal Academy of Bards, the Alice B. Readers Appreciation Medal, and several Readers Choice Awards.

An avid supporter of queer literature, KG currently serves on the Board of Trustees for the Lambda Literary Foundation. She divides her time between Palm Springs and her native North Carolina mountains.

Contact KG through her website at
www.kgmacgregor.com
.

Amber Halliday scooted her chair back from the long, boisterous table as the harried waitress cleared their breakfast dishes. Holding her cell phone high above her head, she twisted back and forth. “This is so weird. I can’t get a signal at all. Is anybody else having trouble?”

She’d noticed the No Service message last night but didn’t have time to worry about it, since all anyone had cared about for the past three days was packing up and loading the bus for their five a.m. departure this morning. Gus Holley and his band were kicking off a thirty-four-city tour in the US and Canada, and for the first time ever, she was going along to help sell merchandise. Most of the band had slept the first three hours from Nashville to Louisville, but they were gearing up now to make some music tonight at the Ohio State Fair in Columbus.

Her boyfriend of the past three years, Corey Dobbins, played bass for Gus, and had used his influence to have her join the tour. He even talked Gus into letting her bring along Skippy, her one-year-old Chihuahua-spaniel mix, so she wouldn’t have to turn him in to the animal shelter. Since the tour was scheduled to last five months, they’d whittled down their possessions and given up their apartment lease, hoping to find a nicer place when they returned to Nashville.

Amber and Corey were part of the second bus, mostly musicians and instrument techs. The other roadies—the stage, sound and lighting crew—traveled a day ahead and were already setting up at the fair.

“Don’t worry about your phone,” Corey said. “Mine’s working. Who would you call anyway? Practically everybody you know is right here at this table.”

“That’s not true. I text with Harmony all the time,” she answered, looking over at the band’s drummer, Wayne. His wife ran the daycare where Amber had worked off and on for the past couple of years.

Wayne turned his phone toward her. “I just got a text from her a few minutes ago. She’s bitching about some woman that always drops her kid off with a loaded diaper.”

“I know exactly who she’s talking about. I told her to save it and put it back on him just before his mother came to pick him up, but Harmony’s like ‘I can’t do that,’ and I’m like, ‘Well, you’re going to get a shitty diaper every day.’ You can’t let people get away with that kind of shit.”

Corey snorted. “Pun intended. Hey, Amber, aren’t we pretty close to where you grew up?”

Amber made a face and shuddered. She’d seen the sign for Shelbyville when they pulled off the interstate to the truck stop. “I guess that explains why the hair’s standing up on the back of my neck. Gives me the creeps just to think about it.”

Several of the guys in their party suddenly stood, dropped a few dollars on the table for the waitress and made their way back out to the bus, but Corey held out his coffee cup for a refill, in no apparent hurry. “Don’t you ever wonder what your folks are up to these days? I get that you had it rough growing up but you don’t even know if they’re still alive.”

“I know all I want to know.”

He handed her his phone. “Seriously, you ought to call since you’re so close.”

She batted his hand away.

“You’re too stubborn for your own good sometimes, Amber.”

“What, you think I should just run over there all smiles with Skippy and say it’s all okay now? I’m sure Mama would just break down and cry, and Daddy would fall all over himself to say how sorry he was.”

“How do you know what they’ll do if you never give them a chance? You haven’t even called home a single time since you left. Not once, Amber. They could be worried sick for all you know.”

“Trust me, they aren’t.”

Corey sighed and pulled his wallet from his hip pocket, drawing a five-dollar bill out for the waitress. He then handed Amber five twenties. “Here, take some of this money. It’s not a good idea for me to carry all of it in one place.”

Her boyfriend had a lot of faults—drinking to excess and a wandering eye chief among them—but he was generous, paying all the rent and household bills, and even giving her a little spending money whenever she was out of work. His propensity to sleep with other women from time to time was something she’d learned to accept, because he always came home to her. Theirs wasn’t the greatest love story of all time—it was probably more habit than love for both of them—but it was dependable.

Through the restaurant’s broad window she saw Wayne tipping his head toward the bus to signal it was time to head out.

“Looks like everybody’s ready to go,” she said.

Corey held his cup as if warming his hands. “I’m going to finish this last cup of coffee. You should go to the bathroom here before we get back on the road because we probably won’t stop between here and Columbus. I’ll meet you back on the bus.”

A full-sized ladies’ room was definitely preferable to the tiny compartment that passed as a lavatory on the bus, especially since she couldn’t put her makeup on while the bus was jiggling down the road.

Amber leaned over the sink to the mirror, careful not to soak up the water she had splashed all over the counter when washing her hands. With a stiff brush, she untangled the wiry blond curls that cascaded almost to her shoulders and pulled them tight into a bushy ponytail. Her practiced hand then methodically lined her eyes with a slate-gray pencil, giving life to her face for the first time since she’d rolled out of bed at four a.m. Blue eye shadow, creamy blush and red lipstick finished the look and she stepped back to take in her overall appearance.

Her denim miniskirt, stretched out from three days since its last laundering, sagged from her hips. A pair of ribbed tank tops—one red, one black—hugged her slender frame snugly, not quite hiding the outline of her breasts and stiff nipples. Corey teased her about having a chest like a teenage boy, but she always thought a B-cup was plenty. She appreciated the trade-off of not usually having to wear a bra.

Corey made no secret of his preference for voluptuous women. Three or four times a month he slept with Rachelle, who was closer to his age at thirty-two and full-figured. Amber had never really been jealous, but she was relieved when Corey had chosen her and not Rachelle to join the tour.

A woman entered the restroom and, before going into the stall, stopped to pick up several stray paper towels off the floor and stuff them into the wastebasket. By her dress—dark green cargo shorts, a bright yellow T-shirt and sturdy hiking shoes—she wasn’t a truck stop employee straightening up, just a neat freak.

Feeling guilty over the fact that a couple of those errant towels had been hers, Amber took a moment to wipe the excess water off the counter and carefully dispose of the waste. Then she stashed her makeup in her purse and fished out a pack of Marlboro Lights, knowing she’d have time for only a couple of quick puffs before getting back on the bus. It was a nasty habit, one she could barely afford even when she was working, but she’d found it impossible to quit when surrounded by so many others in the band who smoked.