Held Hostage at Whiskey Gulch
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Elle James
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20
Chapter One
Tessa Bolton retied the shoestring on her running shoe and straightened. Though the sun had yet to rise completely, the day promised to be clear and beautiful.
She inhaled deeply, raised her hands above her head and released the air out of her lungs. After a few stretches, she was ready to follow the trail along the river’s edge, her usual morning jog that got her day off to a good start.
A figure appeared in the gray light of dawn, coming toward her as she started down the path.
She tensed for a second before she realized who it was. A smile curled the corners of her lips and she raised a hand in greeting.
“Good morning,” Tessa called out.
Joseph “Irish” Monahan slowed his jog to a walk as he approached. “We have to quit meeting like this,” he said with a wink. “You’ll start thinking I’m stalking you.”
She laughed. “If anything, you’ll think I’m stalking you. You’re always here well before me.”
“I like to run before the sun comes up. Always did in the army. That way I can beat the heat.”
Droplets of sweat dripped off his forehead and his naked chest and shoulders glistened in the soft haze of morning. He always ran without a shirt, the sweat enhancing his muscular physique. The man was one-hundred-percent eye candy.
Tessa swallowed hard to force back her desire to run her fingers across his chest to test the hardness of his muscles. “You’re not in the army now,” she pointed out,
“No, but I work for someone else, and I like to get there early.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “You know, lots of mouths to feed.”
She chuckled. “As in horses, cows and chickens?”
He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “I rarely hear a complaint about the chow served in the mess hall.”
“I would think the country life would be boring after all those years in the Special Forces.” She tilted her head. “You were Delta Force, right?”
He dipped his head. “I was. Best years of my life.”
Tessa’s brow furrowed. “If they were the best years, why did you leave the army?”
His gaze shifted from hers to somewhere over her shoulder. “I was ready to get on with my life. When you’re Delta, you tend to put the rest of your life on hold.”
She frowned. “I don’t understand.”
His gaze returned to hers. “It’s hard to have any kind of relationship outside your team when you’re never home. I didn’t risk getting married, only to be divorced within a year.” He shrugged. “I saw too many of my buddies go through that.”
“So, you gave up the military and came to Whiskey Gulch to get married?” Her lips twitched as she fought to hide her smile.
His forehead creased. “I wouldn’t say that. I left the military to discover what real life is all about. And I was getting too old to hold up under the physical demands of the job.”
Her gaze swept him from head to toe, finding him perfectly fit. “I doubt you had any trouble keeping up with the younger guys.”
“Yeah, but it was only a matter of time before my luck ran out. A stray bullet, flipped vehicle, or shrapnel from an IED or mortar round would have put me out of commission and the army. As it was, I left on my own terms.”
Tessa grabbed her ankle and pulled it up behind her, stretching her leg. “And working with the animals will keep you satisfied with life?”
His lips curved. “Among other things. The boss, Trace, has other activities in mind for us and he’s bringing on other men like me to handle them.”
“Really?” She dropped her ankle and reached for the other, pulling it up behind her. “What kind of activities?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Some kind of security service. We’re all trained soldiers, we have skills not usually found in the civilian world. He has an idea that we can use our training to help others.”
“Sounds admirable. Whiskey Gulch is a small town. Will you find enough of that kind of work here? I’d think you’d have to be in a more populated area to warrant starting a security service.”
“Trace thinks if we start it, word will get out. People will find us.” Irish shrugged. “In the meantime, I have animals to feed and care for. They’re therapeutic.”
“And after all you’ve been through as a Delta Force operative, you could use some downtime.” Tessa smiled. “Thank you for your service.”
His cheeks reddened. “I’d better get going.” He frowned, his gaze going to the river trail. “You all right to run alone?”
Tessa lifted her chin. “I’ve done it every morning for the past few months. I’ll be fine.”
“Same route every day?”
She nodded. “I’m trying to improve my time.”
“You should really alter your route. Never do the same one twice. Be a little more random.”
She laughed. “What could happen out here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
Irish’s eyes narrowed. “I make it a habit to never say what could happen. It’s like tempting fate to throw something in your path. Something bad.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Are you telling me this tough Delta Force soldier is superstitious?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “Damn right I am. Intuition saved my butt more times than I can remember.”
“I don’t believe in luck, fate or intuition. Knowledge is what you have to bank on.”
“You’re a nurse, right?”
Her brow dipped. “Yes. So?”
“Don’t you base some of your work on instinct?”
She shook her head. “I don’t call it instinct. I call it experience. I don’t leave my patients’ lives up to fate or hunches.”
Irish tipped his head. “Believe what you will. I still think luck and intuition play a major part in our lives and the paths we choose or are chosen for us.” He glanced toward the trail along the river’s edge. “Sure you don’t want me to run with you?”
Tessa shook her head. “No. You have hungry subjects to feed. I’ll be fine.” She turned to leave.
“Tessa?” Irish called out to her.
She glanced over her shoulder. “Yes?”
He opened his mouth, must have thought better of it, and closed it again. He gave her a crooked smile. “Nothing. Have a good run.” He turned, climbed into his truck and drove away.
For a long moment, she stared after him. If she wasn’t mistaken, he’d been about to...what? Ask her out? See if she wanted to get coffee? Tell her he was ready to start working toward that life after the army, and he wanted to test the waters with her?
Tessa shook her head. Sure, she found Irish attractive. If he asked her out, she probably would say yes. But that didn’t mean they were headed down the path of happily-ever-after. She had too much baggage of her own to waltz down that lane.
Once bitten, twice shy?
That was Tessa to a tee. Her ex-husband had ruined her for other men. His abuse had left her little more than a shell of herself. Over the past few months, she’d worked to regain her self-esteem and rebuild her confidence. She’d be damned if she let another man drag her down again.
Not that Irish would do that.
Tessa rolled her shoulders to ease the tension that always came with memories of Randy. He’d sucker punched her with his fists and words on more than one occasion.
She’d indulged in comfort food until she was fifty pounds overweight.
Randy Hudson, being the jerk he was, had ridiculed her over her weight, along with all her other perceived faults, which had only made her sink deeper into depression.
One day, she’d looked at herself in the mirror and found a stranger looking back. That day, she’d decided enough was enough. She’d thrown out the brand-new carton of Rocky Road ice cream, put on her sneakers and gone for a walk.
Walking became running and she only ate to fuel her body, not to feed her depression.
When Randy criticized her, she stood up to him, telling him that she wasn’t going to take it anymore. He either had to quit disrespecting her or she would leave.
Well, she’d ended up in Whiskey Gulch where she’d grown up, and Randy had remained in San Antonio.
Leaving him, getting the divorce, starting over, had been the best decision of Tessa’s life. She’d shed the fifty pounds plus an extra ten. Never in her life had she felt better physically and been more content with her life.
But she had to admit, she missed having someone in her life. Tessa hadn’t dated since her divorce. She wasn’t confident about her choice in men. When she’d met and married Randy, she’d been certain he was the perfect man for her.
Boy had she been wrong.
How could she be certain the next man she decided to date wouldn’t be another Randy?
For weeks, she and Irish had bumped into each other, crossing paths at the river trail. She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that she found him attractive.
Randy had been good-looking as well. Good looks weren’t everything. The next man in Tessa’s life had to be kind-hearted and nonjudgmental. Supportive, not destructive.
So far, Irish had been nothing but a gentleman. She’d been tempted.
Shrugging off her thoughts about the former Delta Force operative, Tessa slipped her earbuds in her ears, set her music to her running playlist and took off down the river path.
Her feet hit the ground in time to the songs, the playlist motivating. She’d had the same music now for a couple of months. The familiarity with the different songs let her know where she was in her workout. When she heard the strains of “Born to Run” by Bruce Springsteen, she knew she was halfway, and it was time to turn around for the jog back.
She’d been running for twenty minutes when she passed through a wooded area with weeping willow trees hanging low overhead. With Duran Duran in her ear, she didn’t hear the sound of footsteps or the rustle of leaves until a figure burst out of the willow branches, dressed in dark clothes with a black ski mask over his face, and blocked the path.
Tessa let out a sharp squeal and dodged to the left to avoid running into the man.
He moved faster, grabbing her arm with hands encased in the kind of gloves used for good grip in sports.
Tessa dug her feet into the dirt, twisted and pulled to free herself from his grasp, to no avail.
He punched her in the side of her face, yanked her around and caught her in a headlock, clamping his arm around her neck.
Her pulse raced and her vision blurred. Tessa fought for her life. When her struggles didn’t free her, she stilled, trying to remember the self-defense lessons she’d taken before she’d left San Antonio. It all came back to her.
Tessa went limp in the man’s arms.
He fumbled to hold her upright.
As the man bent over to steady her, Tessa bunched her legs beneath her and pushed against the earth, rising up so fast, he didn’t have time to move out of her way.
Tessa’s head hit the man beneath his jaw, whipping his head up and back. His arm loosened around her neck.
Tessa shoved his elbow upward and ducked beneath it, slipping behind him. Planting a foot on his backside, she kicked hard, sending him flying into the willow tree.
Before her attacker could regain his balance, Tessa ran as fast as she could to get back to where she’d parked her car by the road.
She’d only gotten halfway there when he slammed into her from behind.
Tessa hit the ground on her hands and knees, oblivious to the pain of gravel scraping against her skin. The man on her back grabbed her by her ponytail and pulled her head back.
“You’ll pay for that,” he said, his voice low and threatening, his breath hot against her ear.
On her belly, pinned to the ground, Tessa flailed her arms and legs. Nothing she did could shake him from her back.
He grabbed her arm, shifted to one side and attempted to roll her onto her back.
As she rolled onto her side, she cocked her arm and slammed her elbow into the man’s face.
He cried out, clutched his face with both hands and rocked on his haunches.
Tessa shoved him hard, sending him flying to land flat on his back.
With only seconds to spare, she scrambled to her feet and ran, refusing to look around. She could hear the sound of his footsteps on the gravel behind her as she reached her vehicle where she’d left it what seemed like hours ago.
Her heart pounding, she pulled the key fob from the tiny pocket in her shorts, hit the unlock button, yanked open the door and flung herself inside.
With her hand shaking, she fumbled to get the key into the ignition.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. He was almost to her.
Her heart leaped into her throat as she slammed her hand down on the button that locked the doors.
The man in the ski mask grabbed her door handle and yanked hard. When it didn’t open, he pounded his fists against the window.
Terrified, Tessa shoved her shift into drive.
Her attacker flung himself onto her hood and pounded the front windshield with his fists.
Tessa hit the accelerator, jerked the steering wheel right then left and spun in the gravel.
The guy on her hood slid from side to side, holding on, refusing to let go.
Tessa gunned the accelerator shooting the vehicle forward. Then she slammed on her brakes.
The man on the hood slid off onto the ground.
Tessa pushed the shift into Reverse and backed away as fast as the vehicle would go. She made it to the paved road and kept going in reverse, heading toward town. When she’d gotten far enough away from her attacker, she spun the steering wheel, shifted into Drive and raced toward Whiskey Gulch. Her cell phone would have been little use with reception spotty that far from town and the transmission tower.
Tessa didn’t slow until she saw the first houses on the outskirts of town. Even then, she flew down Main Street, coming to a skidding stop in front of the sheriff’s office.
The sheriff and another man were standing out front when she stumbled out of the SUV and ran up the steps.
The other man was Irish, now dressed in lightweight workout pants. He turned, a frown pressing his eyebrows together. “Tessa?”
“Help,” she cried and threw herself at the unsuspecting man.
