by Sharon Sala
For a few seconds, both Sonora and Garcia were out of commission. She struggled to get up, while Garcia dealt with more pain and the loss of his gun. When he saw that she was down, he pounced. Bleeding from his shoulder and his nose, he went belly down on top of her. The impact knocked the wind out of Sonora’s lungs and for a few frantic moments, she was paralyzed, unable to move.
In the fleeting breath between heartbeats, a gust of wind blew rain into Sonora’s face. She gasped, and in doing so, drew sweet, life-giving oxygen into her body. At the same time, the air was suddenly filled with the sound of drums—and of gourd rattles—and voices chanting over and over in a language she did not know.
Garcia’s hands slid around her throat.
She was fighting him and kicking and gouging at his eyes, pushing against his weight, but to no avail.
The drums grew louder as did the rattles. Sonora wondered if this was what the Kiowa heard when they were going to die.
And then suddenly, the weight was off of her body. She struggled to get up and felt hands beneath her arms, pulling her upright, but when she turned to look, there was no one there.
Garcia was standing a short distance away from her, holding his arms up across his face as if to ward off a blow, although there was nothing between them but the downpour of rain. He was screaming and praying as he’d never prayed before.
Sonora felt a great wind at her back and feared a tornado was about to drop down. She tried to move—to run for the cellar—but her feet wouldn’t move. All around her, the air was filled with the beat of a thousand drums and the ground shook from the shock waves of gourd rattles and she thought that they were going to die.
Then, through the wind and the rain and the war drums hammering against her brain, she saw a flashing, bouncing light. Someone was coming up the driveway at great speed. When she recognized the pickup and the man who jumped out on the run, she screamed out his name.
“Adam!”
He launched himself at Garcia as he spun and fired. The bullet went wild as Adam hit him waist high and sent them both flying into the rain. At the moment of their impact, it was as if Sonora was suddenly released from a spell. Frantically, she began feeling about in the mud to find her gun, and just as suddenly, it was in her hand.
She turned.
Lightning flashed.
Garcia was getting away from Adam.
She fired into the air.
Then time seemed to stop.
Garcia froze with Adam still holding on to his leg.
The rain stopped.
The quiet was even more frightening than the storm.
Garcia was looking at something above Adam’s head, and the look on his face was one of horror.
Sonora turned, following his line of vision, and that’s when she saw them.
“Adam.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, and yet he heard it. As he turned to look, Garcia rolled away from him and grabbed his gun from the mud. He turned, firing as he rolled, willing to die if he could take her with him.
The bullets didn’t find a target, but lightning did. It came out of nowhere and nailed Garcia to the ground. Fire came out of his ears and the bottoms of his feet. Within seconds he was gone.
Adam looked up.
There were four Native Americans above him, one naked and riding a pure white horse. One was wrapped in a bear skin, one wearing a war bonnet that trailed the ground, and one with a white handprint on either side of his face. They were mounted on horses with fiery red eyes and stamping feet.
The one on the white horse waved a war shield as the horse reared up, then disappeared. Another shouted something into the wind, until one by one, they were gone.
“The Old Ones,” Adam said.
Sonora stumbled, then sat flat.
Adam ran toward her, then picked her up in his arms.
“When I saw you two in the headlights, I thought I was going to be too late. He had his arms around your throat. I saw you fighting him, then suddenly he went flying. You must have landed quite a blow.”
The war drums were silent as were the gourd rattles. The fear that had been with her since the day she’d learned Buddy Allen was dead was no more. She felt empty and free and ready to be filled with Adam Two Eagles’s love.
“It wasn’t me,” she said. “It was them. They saved me.”
Adam shuddered, then held her closer. “Let’s get in the house. You need to get cleaned up and into dry clothes, and I’ve got to make some calls.”
Sonora suddenly remembered the boy who’d been burned. “What happened to the boy?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I was almost there when one of the Old Ones stopped me. When I saw him in my headlights, I knew you were in some kind of danger. That’s why I came back.”
Sonora laid her head against his shoulder as he carried her inside. She’d seen them for herself, it still seemed impossible to believe. Still, Garcia was dead, which was good, and since he wasn’t alive to be telling what he’d seen, then she had nothing to worry about.
Once they were inside the house, Adam lit candles for her again. She was standing in the laundry room taking off her wet, muddy, clothes when the power suddenly flickered, then returned.
Sonora breathed a sigh of relief, but not because she was no longer in the dark. She was pretty sure that the events of this night had cured what ailed her about darkness. Her greatest joy right now came from knowing she could get clean.
Adam came from the kitchen with a large bath towel. He wrapped it around her, then helped her to the bathroom.
“Need any help?” he asked.
“No. I can handle it,” she said, and dropped the towel. As she turned to step into the shower, the tattoo of the snake rode the movement of her muscles, making it appear as if it were about to strike.
“You sure can,” he said softly, and left her on her own.
A short while later, the front yard of Adam’s house was crawling with all manner of authorities. The local sheriff, the county division of the DEA, and someone from the Feds was supposed to be on the way.
Miguel Garcia had once been a big deal in this country, responsible for funneling billions of dollars worth of drugs up from Colombia, through Mexico, and then into the States.
As far as the law was concerned, he’d attacked a DEA agent in a plot of revenge. She wounded him twice, before he succumbed to a lightning strike during a storm.
It was a good story and Sonora Jordan was sticking to it.
EPILOGUE
Franklin Blue Cat was sitting in his favorite chair, watching the sunset from the screened-in back porch of his home. He could hear his daughter’s laughter and the deep, rumbling voice of her husband, Adam, as he responded to something she’d said.
He heard her footsteps moving across the kitchen floor and smiled to himself. She was coming to check on him, when it was she who should be sitting with her feet in the air.
“Dad, need something cold to drink?”
He shook his head, and then held out his hand. “Come to me for a moment,” he said, and pulled her down in his lap.
“I’ll squash you,” she argued, even as she was sitting.
“That tiny baby in your belly weighs nothing,” Franklin said.
“Maybe so, but tiny baby’s mother weighs plenty,” she argued, then flinched. “Oh! Man! That was some kick.” She splayed her hand across her belly and then rubbed, as if trying to soothe the infant within.
“Already he is impatient to be born,” Franklin said, and laid his hand ever so gently on the round swell of Sonora’s stomach.
Adam came out onto the porch with two cold, long-neck bottles of beer. “Here, Grandpa, something to cool your throat.”
Franklin took it with a smile and then lifted it to a toast to Adam. “To your son and my grandson,” he said.
Sonora frowned. “Hey, I’m in this party, too.”
“Yes, but you’re not drinking, little Mama,” Adam said, then he lifted the bottle
to her. “To Franklin Blue Cat’s daughter, who just happens to be the woman of my dreams … and to Sonora, the light of my life and the mother of my son.”
She beamed as both men lifted the bottles to their lips and took a long drink. She didn’t care. She’d never liked beer much anyway.
Then Adam set his beer aside and lifted her out of Franklin’s lap and into his arms. While Franklin watched and grinned, Adam waltzed her down the back porch and then up again.
Sonora had the world—and the men of her heart—at her feet. She’d never been happier, or more fulfilled. Her days with the DEA seemed like they’d happened to someone else. Only rarely did she ever think of the department or the people she’d known, and only then with a distant fondness. She didn’t miss anything or anyone, because here she was whole.
Franklin smiled, and then leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, letting the sounds of their joy and laughter wash over him in healing waves.
It was amazing how good he felt these days.
Remission, they called it.
He knew better.
Because of his daughter, he knew he was cured.
Only time and the Old Ones would prove him right.
* * * * *
“Skillfully balancing suspense and romance, Sala gives readers a nonstop breath-holding adventure.”
—Publishers Weekly on Going Once
Did you love Rider on Fire by New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala?
Don’t miss a heart-stopping moment in the action-packed Secrets and Lies trilogy:
Wild Hearts
Cold Hearts
Dark Hearts
Looking for more heart-pounding romantic suspense from Sharon Sala?
Then be sure to catch the adrenaline-fueled Forces of Nature series:
Going Once
Going Twice
Going Gone
Complete your collection!
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“Vivid, gripping…this thriller keeps the pages turning.”
—Library Journal on Torn Apart
A treacherous murder, the decades-long blood feud between two families and irresistible paramours are the setup for a perfect storm of passion and carnage in New York Times bestselling author Sharon Sala’s latest:
Family Sins
Temperatures and tensions will rise …
Order your copy today!
“Perfect entertainment for those looking for a suspense novel with emotional intensity.”
—Publishers Weekly on Out of the Dark
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[Intro:]
If you love the novels of Sharon Sala,
be sure to check out her upcoming release,
RACE AGAINST TIME.
Sometimes fate brings you together…only to tear you apart
Read on for a sneak peek from
RACE AGAINST TIME.
ONE
It was a hot Saturday evening in Nashville, Tennessee when seventeen-year old Starla Davis came running up the hall carrying an overnight bag in one hand and her car keys in the other.
She stopped by the recliner her dad, John, was sitting in to kiss his forehead.
“Bye, Daddy, I’m off to Lara’s house. We’re going to the movies. I’ll be home sometime in the morning.”
“Bye, sugar. Drive safely and have a good time.”
“I will. Mama! I’m leaving now!” she yelled.
Her mother, Connie, came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands.
“Supper is almost ready. Sure you don’t want to eat before you leave? It’s meat loaf and mashed potatoes. Your favorite.”
“Sounds wonderful, but we’ll eat popcorn and junk at the movie,” she said and kissed her mother goodbye. “See you in the morning.”
“Good. Leaves more for me,” her brother, Justin, said as he walked through the living room.
Starla made a face at him.
He was laughing when she opened the door.
“Have fun!” her mother said.
“I will. Love you!”
And then she was gone.
She had a slight twinge of conscience as she drove away because she’d lied to her parents about where she was going, and she’d never lied to them before. But that wasn’t the extent of the lie. She’d also lied to get a fake ID last week so she could get in at a club on the outskirts of Nashville to meet the boy she’d met online. They’d been talking for weeks, FaceTiming on a regular basis.
Then he told her he was falling in love with her, and that was his lie, but she didn’t know it. She believed him, just as her parents had believed her.
He was already twenty-one, and she didn’t want to come across as the high school kid she was when she finally met him in person, so she was going for her idea of sexy when she chose the red leather miniskirt, black knit top and black leather knee-high boots.
She passed the time before their meeting at her friend Lara’s house, but they didn’t go to a movie, even though Lara knew what was happening and was worried how this might turn out. But they had been friends their whole lives, and Lara wasn’t going to snitch.
They were in her bedroom, talking and laughing while Lara was doing Starla’s hair. When it was almost time to leave, she got dressed.
“How do I look?” Starla asked, twirling around and around in front of her friend.
Lara smiled.
“You look beautiful, no matter what you’re wearing.”
“Thanks for everything, Lara. You’re the best friend ever.”
Lara’s parents owned a supermarket and were always late coming home, so there were no other witnesses to Starla’s new look as she left the house and drove away.
The closer she got to the club, the more excited she became. The parking lot was filling up fast when she arrived, but she finally found a parking place toward the back of the lot. She locked the car, put the keys in a little shoulder bag, and started walking across the gravel toward the club.
The night air was sultry and still. A bead of sweat rolled out of her hairline and down the back of her neck. The mosquitoes were already out. One landed on her bare arm, but she swatted it before it could bite. The buzz of the neon sign was loud in her ears as she passed beneath it on the way toward the club.
Putting her hair up in the messy-on-purpose look was a good move on Lara’s part. It was a sexy style for her long blond hair and made her feel pretty and grown up. Her eyes were alight with the night’s possibilities as she neared the club.
And then she saw him leaning against the corner of the building, watching her come toward him. He smiled and waved.
She shivered.
Oh my God, he is so handsome.
His name was Darren, and when she waved back, he came running.
That first hug was a rush. The first kiss made her ache for so much more. He laughed when she suddenly turned shy, and then they walked into the club arm in arm.
>
One hour and one spiked drink later, Starla Davis was passed out in his arms. He made a joke about having too much fun, and carried her out of the club, and away from the city of her birth.
When she didn’t come home the next morning, John and Connie called Lara. Lara was already worried because Starla hadn’t come back after her date and quickly confessed to their ruse.
John and Connie went from concern to panic and called the police. The first thing the police did was confiscate Starla’s computer. They found the emails, then the location of a meeting place and found her car in the club parking lot, but no trace of Starla.
The bartender vaguely remembered the guy, and a waitress remembered Starla because of the red leather miniskirt. It wasn’t the kind of club that was high on security cameras, because most of the people who went there didn’t necessarily want to be found.
After the police found pictures of Darren on her computer, they ran them through facial recognition. Darren Edward Vail popped up in criminal records. He’d been in and out of juvenile detentions since he was twelve, but the files were sealed. He popped up again on police reports after he turned eighteen, but nothing that had put him in prison. Then a year ago last Christmas, he was implicated in the disappearance of four girls from neighboring states, two of whom turned up dead, which connected him to a human trafficking ring. He had bonded out on the charges and disappeared. After that, he stayed two steps ahead of the law. That’s when John and Connie Davis began to realize the possibility they may never see Starla again.
Lara heard the news and collapsed in hysterics. Her worst fear had come true, and she helped make it happen.
* * *
Starla woke up in the back of a moving vehicle, hands and feet bound, blindfolded, gagged and certain she was going to die. She tried sending a mental message to her daddy, as if he could read her mind in the miles between them.
Daddy, save me. Help me. Find me.
Then she began praying to God.
God, I’m sorry. Please save me. Please don’t let me die.
