Rediscover this scorching fan-favorite from USA TODAY bestselling author Victoria Dahl!
For Jenny Stone, driving is her escape-from her past, her problems, her quiet life in Jackson Hole. But after Deputy Nate Hendricks stops her—again—for speeding, she could lose more than just her license. She could lose her heart. Nate seems to think that Jenny should replace her love for fast driving with something even more…heart pumping. And despite her need for speed, Jenny’s never been one for defying the law.
Originally published in 2013.
TOO FAST TO FALL
Victoria Dahl
www.harlequinbooks.com.au
CONTENTS
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 ONE
THE COP GREW larger in Jenny’s side mirror as he approached, his sunglasses glinting ominous light as she considered whether or not to make a run for it.
She might be able to escape. The highway was a nice, straight run here, and a gorgeous 350 V-8 engine purred beneath the hood of her 1978 Camaro, just waiting for her to punch the accelerator. The deputy would have to get all the way back to his SUV before he could even consider chasing her down. By then, she’d be a speck of bright yellow a mile down the asphalt. And hell, with the snow still five feet deep on either side of the road, she could just pull off onto any old trail and he might pass right by her.
Jenny flexed her fingers against the thin circle of the steering wheel. She was tempted. She knew how to run. It had always been her first instinct, and she’d pulled it off many times. But as she watched the cop’s hard-hewn jaw begin to tic in anger, she sighed and slumped in her seat. Deputy Hendricks knew very well where she lived. He’d written her address down on three separate speeding tickets, not to mention two terse warnings.
“Good Morning, Deputy Hendricks!” she said brightly, as if she weren’t easing her foot from a tempted hover above the gas pedal.
He didn’t return her greeting. He didn’t say anything at all. He just…loomed, his sharp cheekbones and hard-edged jaw a warning of danger. His lean body a threat of strength. The mountains looked small behind him.
Jenny made a valiant attempt not to squirm. “I thought I had a few more days on my tags.”
His hands were loose by his sides in a pose she recognized from the other five times he’d pulled her over. One hand near his gun. One near his baton. He’d never reached for either, thank God, but this time, both his hands spasmed into brief fists before relaxing into readiness again.
“End of the month, right?” she squeaked. She’d found him pretty cute on previous stops. Now she only felt nervous.
His hands closed one more time, and then he eased them open with deliberate slowness. “Ms. Stone,” he said, grinding out her name.
She aimed a big smile up at him, though her lips felt stiff. “That’s me.”
“Unfortunately, I’m well aware of that.”
“I—”
“Just as I assume you’re well aware of why I’ve stopped you today.”
“Is it—?”
“And no,” he barked. “It has nothing to do with your damn tags.”
She flinched at the way his voice filled her car.
In response, he cleared his throat and rolled his neck. “Excuse me,” he said in a much quieter tone, though the ends of the words were clipped enough to sound razor-sharp. “While I run your information to see if you’ve acquired any warrants for your arrest since the last time I stopped you.”
His heel scraped against the asphalt. Jenny leaned out. “Don’t you need my license and—?”
He threw a hand up to stop her words and muttered something she didn’t quite catch. Apparently he had no trouble recalling her name and birth date.
“Shit,” she groaned as she ducked back into her seat. He’d been lenient in the past, but last time he’d clocked her going eighty in a fifty-five, he’d been clear that his tolerance had worn thin.
One more ticket, Ms. Stone, and you’ll be called before a judge. You’ll lose your license for thirty days, at best. At worst, you’ll be charged with reckless endangerment.
“Of what?” she muttered to her steering wheel. “Chipmunks?” It had been November. Too cold for Yellowstone tourists and not snowy enough for skiers. She rolled her eyes as she heard the door of his truck open, but immediately after he slammed it, his footsteps sounded again. She watched him approach in her mirror, just as he had a few minutes before, but this time, she sank down a little in defense.
“Do you know how dangerous this is?” he growled before he even reached her window. “It’s the middle of winter, damn it! You could hit a patch of ice! You could—”
“It hasn’t snowed in two weeks,” she argued. “The roads have been bone-dry for days!”
“Are you kidding me? There’s snowmelt streaming across the road everywhere! And what if you’d suddenly come up on an elk? Or some stupid tourist stopped in the road to take a picture of a stupid elk? Are you…just…are you…?”
“Stupid?” she volunteered, hunching farther down in her seat. If she lost her license, she’d go mad. She couldn’t live without her car. Or rather, she couldn’t live without driving. It felt like flying to her. It felt like freedom. And it had been, three times now.
“Yes!” Deputy Hendricks yelled. “Stupid!”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. He’d never, ever lost his temper before.
He was silent for a long moment. A gas tanker drove past them, sucking the air through her open window, then hurling it back in.
Jenny shook her head. “I’m really sorry.” She meant it. He’d been kind to her and she’d promised not to speed again. And now here she was.
He took a deep breath. His clenched teeth looked very white against his tan skin. “Jenny,” he said, the only time he’d used her first name since she’d invited him to three tickets ago. She glanced up but couldn’t puzzle out his expression behind his sunglasses. She’d never seen him with his glasses off. She worked at the saloon at night, so all her joyrides occurred during daylight hours. All she knew of him was his dark skin and sculpted jaw and wide mouth. Under his hat, his hair looked deep brown. The wide shoulders beneath his uniform jacket eased the insult of the tickets, and the cheekbones didn’t hurt, either, but for all she knew he had bug eyes that wandered in different directions and brows like a twitchy mad scientist.
But probably not.
He stared steadily down at her. Jenny’s heart fell. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Just write the ticket. It’s my own fault, and I know you’ve tried to help.”
He watched her for a long moment, then cleared his throat and shifted. “Ms. Stone, you’re not some eighteen-year-old punk with too much testosterone and too little intelligence. Why can’t you just go the speed limit and save us both some pain? Why is that so hard? Even five miles per hour over and I’d be able to shrug it off. Just…why?”
She couldn’t tell him, because she had no idea. Driving made her happy. The feel of the power at her fingertips. The rush of the wind past her open window when the weather cooperated. And the faster she drove, the freer she felt. Fifty-five miles per hour wasn’t happiness. It was just more constriction. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “But it makes me feel better that giving me tickets is painful for you. After all this time, we’re practically friends now, aren’t we?”
His flat mouth didn’t budge in the slightest. “I meant that writing another t
icket will be painful for me because I’ll lose a whole morning in court testifying against you.”
Her heart sank and bleated an ugly curse on its way down. She was mad at herself, and terrified about the consequences, and just a tiny bit hurt that Deputy Hendricks didn’t feel some small affection for her. She’d always been polite to him. Cheerful, even as he wrote her a ticket. She wasn’t a bad person.
“I warned you last time.”
“I know.” She felt tears prick her eyes, and blinked them furiously away. If he was going to be mean, she didn’t want him to see her cry. “It’s okay,” she said again.
He walked away, thank God, because a tear had managed to escape and slip down her cheek. She swiped at her jaw and sniffed hard. She wouldn’t cry. It was her own fault, and even if Deputy Hendricks was being particularly hard-nosed, she wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t. She deserved this, and he’d cut her enough slack. She sniffed again and scrubbed at her eyes.
The deputy cleared his throat from right beside her.
She froze in horror. He’d walked away to write her a ticket. What was he doing back so quickly?
When she snuck a glance out the window, she saw him holding out a business card instead of the thin paper of a ticket. “What’s that?” she asked, thinking it was a card for the attorney she was going to need.
“Take it,” he said gruffly.
She took it gingerly, barely touching the edges of the card.
“It’s information about a local driving class. I want you to promise to sign up. One, you need it. And two, it’ll help your case the next time I pull you over. Because I will give you a ticket next time, Ms. Stone. No questions. No leniency.”
“What?” she breathed.
“I’m serious. This is getting ridiculous. You’re too old for this crap, and you make a fool out of me every time I let you off.”
“I don’t mean to! I’m sorry! It’s not like I drive away thinking, ‘Yeah! I fooled the Man!’ I mean… Um…” She felt her face flame. His sunglasses stared down at her in unwavering judgment. Her attempt at a smile felt like a grimace as she held up the card. “I’ll take the class. I really appreciate this. I do every time.”
“Every time,” he muttered. “Right.”
“Each time,” she tried. “Both times. Well, this is maybe the third…”
“Yes,” he said. “It is the third. The third warning. The sixth stop.”
“I just get lost in thought. I don’t realize I’m going so fast. It’s kind of hard to keep her under sixty.”
His head turned slightly toward the hood of the car. “Maybe it’s time to buy a nice sedan.”
A tiny, horrified whimper escaped from her mouth.
“I bet you’d save a hell of a lot of money on gas. And it would have airbags.”
“I’ll slow down,” she croaked.
“You’d better. Or you’ll find out how easy it is to keep her under sixty when you’re not allowed out of the garage.”
“Yes, sir.”
His face tipped toward her again at her hoarse whisper. He stared for a moment. She could see her own tiny face looking pitiful and pale in the black lenses.
“Go on,” he finally said. “I’m not giving you an official warning because I don’t want any record of this. It’s an embarrassment. Drive safely, Ms. Stone. And slowly. Please? For the love of whatever it is you value?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered again.
He stepped back. She waited, but he finally shook his head. “Just go before I change my mind.”
Jenny started the car, wincing at the roar of the engine. Normally, she loved that sound, but right now it seemed a little much. “Thank you,” she said again. “Really. Come in for a free beer sometime, okay?”
Maybe not the right thing to say to a deputy who seemed obsessed with road safety. Shoot. Jenny released the brake and pulled away. In her nervousness, she hit the gas too hard and as she pulled off the shoulder, the tires squealed. Just a little. Just enough to make her wish she was dead.
“Oh, God,” she groaned, eyes flashing to the rearview mirror as she left Deputy Hendricks behind in an unfortunate cloud of dust. Well, not a cloud. More like a tiny, harmless puff.
Heart pounding hard, Jenny drove back to town safely. And very slowly, keeping her eye on the speedometer the whole way. It didn’t feel very much like flying, but it was better than being grounded.
It might be time to make a run for it, after all.
* * *
NATE PULLED INTO THE lot of the Crooked R Saloon, and his gaze was immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro parked in the far corner. He felt his left eye twitch at the sight. That woman and her damned menace of a car.
He should’ve given her the ticket. He’d sworn to himself that he would. After issuing that last warning, he’d ordered himself to have a steel will the next time she flew past him.
In fact, each time he stopped her, each time she drove away, he told himself that was it. He wouldn’t be lenient again. If she deserved jail time, the judge would give it to her. It wasn’t Nate’s responsibility to decide. She was a repeat offender. She deserved whatever she got, even if she was always cheerful and sweet and apologetic.
But yesterday he’d seen her flying by again, a bright flash of yellow that shot adrenaline straight into his heart, and despite his rage and frustration and impatience, his resolve had been as weak as paper. She’d flashed that slightly crooked smile and called him “Deputy Hendricks” as if it were a private joke they shared, and…
“Fuck,” he growled as he made himself turn away from her car and walk toward the front porch of the saloon.
What the hell was he doing here?
His brain had snuck up on him to issue a reminder that whatever excuse he had to be at the Crooked R, it was flimsy as hell. But he did have an excuse. His cousin had needed to meet with him, so why not here? It had been thirty-two hours since Nate had pulled Jenny Stone over, so it was time for a reminder about that driving class.
Sure, she’d promised. She’d even shed grateful tears. But he didn’t think for one minute that she’d called about the class yet. Why would she, when she had yet another chance to push him toward insanity? Instead of doing what he’d ordered, she’d probably attach floating neon lights to the under-carriage of her car and get her windows tinted before adding a sticker about pigs to taunt him the next time she flashed her bumper.
He was just another cop fooled by a pretty face. Hardly a rare breed. And now here he was, at her workplace like a hormone-addled fool.
Nate slid off his sunglasses and walked into the saloon, cursing himself every step of the way.
The place was packed. Five-dollar pitcher night, he realized belatedly. Not the ideal place to have a serious talk with his cousin. Then again, considering how worried Luis had sounded, maybe he’d appreciate the roar of background noise. Whatever it was, he’d made it clear that he couldn’t invite Nate over to his own house.
Nate glanced around, meaning to look for his cousin, but somehow searching out a blond ponytail at the same time. And there she was, out from behind the bar, delivering a tray of pitchers. He’d never seen her outside her car. He’d never made her walk the shoulder to check for any telltale signs of inebriation. Reckless as her speeds were, her car always followed every curve of the road perfectly. Even when she spotted his lights, she eased into the stop, edging just far enough over to be safe, and never far enough to veer too deeply into the soft slope next to the highway. Jenny Stone was dangerous, but not in that way.
No, her danger lay in an entirely different set of curves.
“Damn,” he cursed as his eyes roamed down her body. He’d gotten several nice glimpses of cleavage before, and had even wondered whether she’d purposefully set free a button or two as he approached. But he’d had no idea she’d been hiding a perfect ass the whole time. He almost cringed at the sight of it. Beautiful and plump and not at all good for his tenuous hold on sanity when it came to her.
And then she dealt another blow. His gaze traveled back up her body just as her eyes moved over the room. They paused on him for a moment, then moved on, no spark of recognition flashing. Not even a hint of it.
She had no idea who he was. He was just another cop when he was in his uniform, and nothing but a stranger in street clothes tonight.
“Perfect,” he murmured, vowing right then that he’d talk to his cousin and then get the hell out of this place before his pride was permanently damaged by his sex drive.
Looking away from Jenny Stone, he caught sight of Luis raising a hand from a back table and headed gratefully in that direction.
“Cousin,” he said as Luis flashed a tense smile and stood to give Nate a quick hug.
“Hey, Nate.”
Nate had hoped to start off on a positive note, but Luis didn’t look good. “You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”
Luis’s tense smile disappeared in a flash, replaced by a pained grimace that even his goatee couldn’t hide. “Shit, man. I don’t know what to do.”
“Is it James?” Nate asked, his thoughts immediately going to Luis’s fifteen-year-old son. A ripe age for trouble, even for good kids.
“Yes… No!” Luis said. Then his head dropped. “I don’t know. I’m really worried. I don’t think he’s gotten mixed up in it, but…he might have.”
“Mixed up in what? Please tell me you haven’t done anything stupid. I know the concrete business has been slow lately, but—”
“No, it’s not me. It’s… You know Teresa’s cousin Victor came to live with us last year?”
Nate frowned. He’d met the kid once, and had his suspicions, but he’d never said a word. Teresa was a wonderful woman, quiet and strong with a will of steel. If a family member needed help, she wasn’t going to ask more of him than clean language in the house and scrubbed hands when he came to dinner. “I remember,” he finally said carefully.
“Everything seemed fine at first. He wasn’t exactly a hard worker, but he’s nineteen, you know? He took the job I offered and showed up every day. Okay, almost every day. Maybe he was a little lazy, but I kept my mouth shut about it to Teresa, because…”
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