by Laura Marie
The Miss: Series
Miss: Never Gonna Love Again
After Julianna McKay is scarred by a killer, her own fiancé and the loss of their unborn child, she swears to never love again. She needs a better life, not one living in fear and being controlled. Heading back home to Claire County Texas and her last chance of survival, she snags the attention of Sheriff Johnny Black, an ex Marine with his own scars and one dominant personality.
Julianna is scared but just as intrigued by the Sheriff. The way he acts and the way people avoid him and fear his authoritative demeanor make her avoid him as well. The sheriff is immediately suspicious and intrigued by the new Claire County resident. She is quiet and stubborn but also fearful.
Can two strong-minded people with scar-driven paths, broken hearts and nightmares from their past somehow find each other and fall in love? Or will both their pasts come looking for them, trying to destroy any chance at happiness?
Note: This book contains some adult language.
Genre: Contemporary, Romantic Suspense
Length: 78,131 words
MISS: NEVER GONNA LOVE AGAIN
The Miss: Series
Laura Marie
ROMANCE
www.BookStrand.com
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A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
Miss: Never Gonna Love Again
Copyright © 2011 by Laura Marie Henion
E-book ISBN: 1-61034-204-6
First E-book Publication: February 2011
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2011 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
To my husband Tim. I love you darling.
Miss: Never Gonna Love Again
The Miss: Series
LAURA MARIE
Copyright © 2011
Chapter 1
“Are you shittin’ me, boy? A damn pedophile in our here Claire County? Whoosh!”
“I ain’t shittin’ you, no, sir, I ain’t. You shoulda seen Sheriff Black. Madder than a bull in heat, he was. Downright grabbed that there pet’ifile by his throat and shu’ved him into the wall,” Connor stated.
“Man, I woulda love ta seen that. Sheriff Black ain’t a man to reckon with, no he ain’t,” Travis replied, shaking his head side to side.
The others by the feed supply store gathered around to hear about what happened.
“I just can’t believe someone like that was here in Claire. My Lord, what is this world coming to?” Jenny Wilson asked, the concern apparent in her voice.
Deputy Connor Pearl attempted to calm the town folk down. Sheriff Black had made an official statement late that afternoon, but the town was still upset over the events.
It was damn upsetting that a grown man entered the local shopping mart and attempted to fondle a young, twelve-year-old boy. Things like that don’t happen in Claire County, Texas.
“Like I said, Mrs. Wilson, the Sheriff’s Department has everything under control. Maybe it would be nice if you made some that homemade apple jam and sent some over for the Murphy boy. It might dun cheer him right up. I know he loves it,” Connor stated with a wink and a smile. That seemed to do the trick.
“I will do just that. You all know my apple jam is the best in Texas, Deputy Pearl.” Jenny Wilson looked towards him confidently, but also as if she knew exactly what he was up to, before she walked out of the store. He watched the hem of her long beige skirt whipping against her stocking-covered calves and the door close behind her before he sighed in relief. Conner hid the smirk of success. Jenny Wilson was a busybody, always messing in everyone’s affairs and being so dramatic. Whenever there was a problem, she’d appoint herself representative of “all the citizens of Claire County.” With the increase of construction around the outskirts of town, Jenny Wilson was the first in line at the town board meetings to fight development.
“I hope that’s the last kind we see around these parts,” Travis added.
Connor eased their minds then headed back to the department. He wasn’t surprised to find that the sheriff had headed home for the night. He would never forget the look on the sheriff’s face when he heard what the man had attempted to do to poor Davie Murphy. He never saw the sheriff angrier in his life. It was a reminder, never mess with Sheriff Johnny Black…never.
* * * *
Johnny Black attempted to massage the tightness and kinks from his neck. Hanging his head down, staring at the maple hardwood floors of his bedroom, he focused on controlling his breathing. Forcing his mind to count, release the tension, and decipher that it was merely a nightmare. The nightmares were one of many less-frequent reminders of his time serving the government, his actions as a soldier, and his need to survive. Despite the fact that he only wore a pair of black boxer shorts, he was perspiring excessively, unable to calm his breathing. He didn’t want to panic. He hadn’t had a panic attack in more than two years. Thank god he came straight home after he released some of the tension at Susanne’s place. Casual sex should have done the trick.
The sex only calmed him momentarily. Lately he’d needed more, and those feelings, combined with capturing the pedophile in Claire County, had him really pissed off. He forced himself to stand, and Johnny slowly walked toward the window, released the shades from confinement, and shoved the window wide open.
Instantly, the cool night air caressed his chest, his breathing began to slow, his pulse returned to an even beat, and the threat of the panic attack disintegrated with each inhale of cool night air. The hint of manure should have brought him peace of mind that he was home in Texas and not in some damn jungle. The thoughts invaded his mind, coming out of nowhere like some wild mountain lion. It just seemed to wait and prey on him and, as Johnny became more comfortable in his new life, out of nowhere it would attack, leaving Johnny exhausted, sad, and spent.
Beads of sweat rolled over the permanent scars, and each line pulsated as
memory flashes threatened to invade again. He bowed his head and shook it side to side in an attempt to forbid those memories access.
“No!” he shouted, pushing himself away from the window frame and toward the bathroom. A cold shower would help. Had to help.
He moved quickly, fighting the urge to be drawn in by the pain, the pictures in his mind, and the events that took place.
The feel of the cool tile floor sent chilling waves up his muscled legs then came to a halt at his thighs. He felt as if he were standing too close to a fire pit and the orange and red sparks penetrated his skin, bringing on waves of nausea as he pulled the shower curtain wide open.
The pulsating water smacked against each muscle, bringing the scars to life and forcing the past to rear its face. He ran his hands through his ebony hair, and he felt the heat and sweat against his scalp despite the cold water. Tension froze facial veins in protruding positions against his neck and forehead. There didn’t appear to be an escape as the onset of his experience and that one particular mission evoked havoc on his mind and soul.
He braced himself the best he could. Johnny laid the palms of his hands flat against the tiled wall, bowing his head, drowning in the flow of water and pain.
* * * *
The vision, a memory scarring his brain, unleashed havoc immediately as he thought about the five men he personally had handpicked for the mission. Johnny was commanding officer, and he had the authority and the power to basically do as he pleased. The major drawback of such power was that their unit might as well have been nonexistent, at least as far as if any of them were captured during a mission. That rule was easy to accept until that day. The day he lost the lot of men…the day his career as a soldier ended.
Shaking his head, Johnny turned the knob to the right, forcing the liquid to increase to a frigid temperature. He hated these episodes and wondered what had brought this one on.
Davie Murphy and that damn pedophile who attempted to fondle him then lure him from the safety of the shopping mart.
Sick bastard nearly got away with it, preying on some innocent Southern boy taught to respect his elders and only see the good in people.
Things could have turned out a lot worse if Roy hadn’t observed the man’s actions and insisted that the store manager call a deputy.
Davie Murphy was so embarrassed. The poor kid actually felt guilty, as if he was to blame. Johnny nearly strangled the man when he got the call over the radio that the perpetrator was wanted for felony charges of statutory rape. He was on the run from Dallas.
Upon leaning his head back, Johnny opened up his mind for the torture and the circumstances that led to his nightmares, as well as the deaths of his closest buddies,
He saw their faces—Alex, Brandon, Clay, Shark, and Durango.
Recalling the sound of gunfire, AK-47s combined with hundreds of rounds set off from multiple Uzis filled his ears, surreal in his head. The pounding sensation seized its grip and squeezed tight. Leaning his forehead against the cold beige tile, he felt his eyes sting with tears. Leaning back into the stream of ice-cold water, he attempted to dissolve them. The water didn’t seem to help. The pounding increased, and the images came on full force.
Bloody, mangled bodies, corpses of the enemy and his friends combined and scattered throughout the ransacked village. They lost a full troop of thirty, perhaps even more. At the time, his eyes, his mind attempted to force his stares away from the horrific scene, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t look away or turn his back. Not only because the enemy sat hiding yards away, but because he was searching, scanning the bodies in hopes of finding his comrades then praying they never entered the village.
He wondered why they didn’t obey his command. What would make them enter and reveal themselves? It was supposed to be a simple mission, in and out, five separate targets, sniper shots ensured success. What went wrong?
Johnny clenched his hands into fists and banged the wall as the events replayed in his mind.
The shot whizzed by his head, just missing his temple as it grazed the skin. The new team, made up of five other good men he had used on previous missions, ran for cover just behind him. O’Riley, Lopez, and Levine volunteered immediately for the search and rescue operation.
“Take cover!” he yelled to them, practically feeling each bullet whiz by his body but miraculously missing.
A half a second later, the teams were ambushed by some enemy troops. Rounds of gunfire echoed through the air, and pieces of chewed up branches and leaves showered over their heads. Quickly, Johnny dove in the heavy brush along with Rosco Levine. Not new to the unit, his twentieth mission an irreplaceable asset to the Corp, Rosco stayed close.
“Commander! What do we do?” he yelled, lying in the brush beside Johnny.
Glancing around them, Johnny could see the other four soldiers in the unit with their backs towards him and Rosco.
It gave him an idea.
Getting their attention, Johnny had them form a large perimeter circle, ordering them to shoot anything that moved. There was enough distance between them to trick the invading enemy.
Suddenly a sequence of five shots rang out, penetrating the tree trunk behind Rosco’s head. Johnny pushed him down to the side just in time. The bullet hit Johnny’s shoulder.
The memory caused the sharp pain to pulsate from his shoulder as Johnny tried unsuccessfully to make his mind bring him back to the shower. Turning abruptly, his back wedged up against the beige tile, Johnny clenched his eyes and covered the shoulder wound with his hand as he failed to bring himself back to the present.
More shots, this time from a machine gun, showered the perimeter. They were sitting ducks if they stayed in the same position. Johnny knew that help was on the way, but it would take the Marine troop ten minutes or more to overtake the hill before the inverted village.
“Stay here!” he ordered after he checked his ammo. The Uzi had at least another few hundred rounds. He had another two clips on him. But something told him the enemy had more. He hoped reinforcements arrived soon.
Rosco had his back as Johnny crawled farther away from the unit. They were his men, his responsibility. Thoughts of the five other dead soldiers crossed his mind as the sweat trickled down into his eyes. He fought his body’s need to go into shock.
A short series of shots rang out, hitting the brush on either side of Johnny’s head before one hit him. Shots fired behind him as Rosco took out the culprit.
Johnny released a breath. The blood from the flesh wound oozed into his right eye. Wiping it away along with the nervous sweat, Johnny took in his surroundings. The silence was eerie but short as he heard the cracking of branches in the distance. They were moving in. The movements to the right cut his recuperating time. It was live or die. On reflex and instincts, he fired into the trees, and the sounds of screams and sight of men falling from tree limbs engulfed him.
Not too far from them sat two of his men, firing just as many rounds as a large group of enemy soldiers invaded the perimeter. There were so many of them and not enough time. Instantaneously to the left, another onset of enemy soldiers infiltrated the perimeter. They were all going to die.
Johnny felt the tightness in his chest. He was right there, in the jungle surrounded by enemy fire, about to meet his maker.
Rosco kneeled forward, practically standing up, giving his location away as he showered the group nearest to him with hundreds of rounds. Johnny took the other group nearest him and sprayed the enemy with rapid gunfire. They dropped like dominoes, and he picked them off by twos, by fours, the lot of them.
Slowing down the rapid fire to take inventory of the enemy and his unit, Johnny squinted through the thickness of gun smoke. Silence filled the air, and death assaulted his nostrils and then the numbness in his chest, his shoulder and arm. Shot four times, the blood oozed from four separate areas on his body, including the flesh wound.
“Commander!” he heard the voice, recognized it immediately. Ramos Lopez was approaching from b
ehind him. Blood covered the right side of his body as he held his firearm in assault position, ready to fire.
The sound of radio chatter echoed in his ears as Rosco came closer, radio in hand.
“They’re here. They’re over the hill.”
The realization that the gun battle was over was incomprehensible to Johnny. “The others? O’Riley, Monroe, Quartez…?”
Before Johnny could finish, Ramos and Roscoe were shaking their heads.
They were the only survivors.
Johnny felt weak, dizzy, and spent as he slid down the beige tile wall in the shower. He tried to slow his breathing down best he could as he hung his head between his knees and prayed he didn’t pass out.
Chapter 2
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
Julianna took Catherine’s hand into her own. She smiled at her friend before looking down the crowded city street, knowing that ten minutes away stood the entrance to the highway, her new life, and freedom.
“I have to do this, Cat. You know I have to leave.” Julianna gulped down the lump of emotion as the tears filled her eyes. She glanced at her friend just as Catherine pulled her into an embrace.
“I’m gonna miss you, Jules.”
“I’m gonna miss you, too.”
Julianna wiped the tears from her eyes. She silently prayed that she could handle this move, knowing it was an effort to rid herself of the pain, the betrayal, and the fear she would have for eternity.
She slowly pulled back from Catherine’s embrace. Her heart ached knowing that Catherine cared and that she more than likely would never see her again.
