Molly's Man (Haven, Texas Book 4)

by Laylah Roberts

  1

  “On the highway to hell!” Molly sang at the top of her lungs. Hmm, she hoped the song wasn’t a prelude to what was coming, but it seemed an appropriate road trip song considering the huge thunderstorm headed her way.

  Ominous, dark clouds gathered on the horizon, like depressed cotton candy. She grinned at the thought. She quickly switched the radio over to another station where Sir Mix-a-Lot sang about his like of big butts. She’d yet to actually meet a man who liked big butts in real life, though. Her curves were something she’d detested in her twenties, now that she was in her thirties she was coming to accept them—sort of. Maybe by her forties she might be able to embrace them.

  Not that I’ll live long enough to find out.

  She sobered at the thought. She sighed, the noise drowned out by a rolling clap of thunder. Probably should have checked the weather report this morning. She glanced at her GPS, only another twenty miles to go. She might even make it before the rain hit.

  Big splotches hit the windshield, triggering the car’s automatic wipers. Hmm, so much for that wish. No one was expecting her until tomorrow, but she’d been impatient to get to Haven, so she figured she’d stay tonight in a motel then head out to the Ferguson ranch tomorrow. When Savannah and her men had learned she was coming to Haven, they’d immediately invited her to stay with them. She hadn’t wanted to impose, but they’d told her she was family now, which, apparently, meant she couldn’t stay at a motel. She liked the idea of being part of their inner circle, it wasn’t like she had any blood relatives left.

  After handing in her resignation, she’d sat down and created her bucket list. Ten things to do before she died. And when she’d done them all, she intended to find some island where the sun always shone and live out the rest of her life lying on the beach and going through the huge list of cocktails she’d amassed. And if there were a few sexy, half-dressed men running around the beach, so much the better.

  “I think I’m becoming a pervert,” she muttered to herself. Then she grinned. Oh, well, it was her life. She’d live the rest of it how she liked.

  No regrets.

  She frowned as the rain grew harder, causing her to slow down at a sharp curve, the road slick from the heavy downpour. Damn it, figuring she didn’t have much choice unless she wanted to land in the ditch at the side of the road, she cautiously pulled over, leaving her headlights on and her car running to stave off the chill. She flicked the automatic locks to make herself feel secure. There was something very I Know What You Did Last Summer about being stuck out here in the middle of nowhere in a storm.

  “Jesus, Molly, stop it. Not like a serial killer is going to sit around waiting for a thunderstorm so you’ll be forced to pull over, then he can take you away to his cabin in the woods, where he’ll slice a piece of you off each day. . . and I’m gonna stop now.”

  She always did have an over-active imagination.

  Something flickered over to her right. She frowned. Was that a light? Who the hell would be out here in this storm? She waited, cursing the rain and the growing darkness. It wasn’t even 6 p.m., yet it might as well have been close to midnight. Another flicker. Definitely a light.

  She put her hand on the door handle then hesitated, visions of herself being murdered, her throat slashed, her eyeballs plucked by crows, her body bloated and smelly, and . . . There she went again. Maybe she should have followed her aunt’s advice and become a writer rather than going into psychiatry. It wasn’t like she didn’t have enough money to do whatever she liked. Her mom had come from a wealthy family and she’d left her a huge trust fund when she’d died.

  Damn that flickering light was annoying.

  “Aunty always did say my curiosity was going to get me into trouble.” She undid her seatbelt then reached back for the light rain jacket on the back seat. It was waterproof, not torrential rain proof but it was better than nothing. She pulled it on before getting out of the car and racing around to the trunk, thankful she was travelling light and didn’t have a lot of suitcases and boxes to move around before she could get to the emergency kit. She’d donated most of her stuff when she’d given up the lease on her apartment. All she’d taken were some clothes and a few key items that held memories, photo albums, jewelry, and the patchwork quilt her grandmother had made.

  She dragged the heavy kit towards her. Water, bandages, chocolate, knife, ice scraper, candy, batteries . . . uh-huh, there it was. She grabbed the flashlight, flicking it on. She briefly contemplated digging into some of that emergency candy—she’d prefer her last supper to be a Big Hunk than that awful Mexican she’d had for lunch. That swill shouldn’t even be called Mexican.

  But instead, she shut the trunk of her car and carefully crossed the road, heading towards the flickering light. She was soon saturated. Her sneakers squelched, and even though she’d drawn the hood on her jacket up over her head, the stinging rain still pelted her face.

  Nearly there, she stopped, her heart pounding so hard it hurt. Was she seeing things? She wiped at her face. Nope. Shit!

  She took off at a run, half-sliding down the ditch to reach the old pickup lying at the bottom of the gully. The flickering lights she’d seen were the headlights of the rusty, red truck, which had mostly been obscured by brush.

  “Hello! Hello, is anyone there?”

  Please let them be all right. Please let this be an old accident and everyone walked away from it safely and for some reason the car’s lights just decided to turn on.

  She crouched down next to the driver’s door, ignoring the way her sneakers were drenched right through to her socks as she stood knee deep in the swiftly running water in the bottom of the ditch.

  Crap.

  An older looking man lay slouched in the driver’s seat. She reached for the door handle and pulled, grunting with the effort as she tried to get it open. It had one hell of a dent in the side. She finally stopped, panting heavily with exertion and fear. Looked like she wasn’t getting in that way. She tried to get around to the passenger door, but there wasn’t enough room between the truck and side of the gully to get the door open. Instead, she climbed into the bed of the single-cab pickup. The back window was open. Hallelujah. Although she wouldn’t be able to get him out that way, at least she could tell if he was still alive. She reached in and felt for a pulse.

  She gave a sob of relief when she felt a faint beat under her fingers. He wasn’t out of trouble, though. His skin felt cold and clammy and his heart rate was slower than she would have liked. How long had he even been here? It could have been hours.

  “Sir! Sir, can you hear me?”

  No answer. Okay, what now? She couldn’t get him out and she wasn’t sure she should move him anyway.

  “Call for help. Right, use your cellphone, ditz!” Duh. Somehow, she didn’t think her brain was firing on all cylinders right now.

  “Don’t worry. I’m going to get help. Just stay there.” Letting out a hysterical sounding laugh, she stood and took a calming breath.

  “Settle down, acting like a crazy person isn’t getting this poor guy out of here.” She pulled out her phone and stared down at the screen, trying her best to shield it from the rain.

  “No, no, no,” she moaned to herself. No service. “Higher. Higher. Got to get higher. And stop talking to yourself. Pull it together, Molly.”

  So much for keeping cool under pressure. She tried to slide the window across to close it, but it wouldn’t budge. Tucking her phone back into her raincoat pocket then zipping it up, she jumped down off the back of the truck and slipped in the mud, twisting her ankle. Holy shit that hurt. She whimpered, grabbing her foot as sharp, hot pain worked its way up her leg.

  “Damn it. Damn it.”

  What was she thinking jumping off? She wasn’t athletic. Richard used to moan all the time about how clumsy she was. She wished she could sit there and feel sorry for herself, but she had to get help. Using the side of the truck, she pulled herself up and cautiously placed weight on her foot. It
didn’t feel great, but she could stand it. She started back up the embankment. It seemed like it took three times as long to claw her way to the top. When she finally reached the road, she was exhausted, her hands shaking, her breath sawing in and out of her lungs, and her ankle throbbing. Yeah, maybe she should have thought about taking the stairs once in a while, perhaps laying off the pork rinds and Big Hunks too. She just figured there wasn’t much point in worrying about what she ate at this point. She pulled her phone out, careful not to drop it.

  Yes! She had service.

  She quickly called 9-1-1 and explained the situation to the dispatcher on the other end. Molly had to fight the urge to yell at the woman that this was urgent and how could she just sit there and talk to her in that oh-so-calm voice as if finding a man unconscious in his truck was an everyday occurrence? Thankfully, she managed to hold back. Just.

  “Ma’am, are you still there?”

  “My name is Molly. And, yes, I’m here,” she added rather pointlessly.

  “Molly,” the dispatcher said in a gentler voice. “Can you turn the hazard lights on in your car then wait inside for the sheriff to get there. I’ll stay on the line with you.”

  “Yes, I can turn my hazard lights on.” She should have thought of that. “I’ve got some flares as well.”

  “The hazard lights are fine.”

  She reached her car and opened the door then climbed in, looking for the hazard light button. Where was the darn thing? She should know where that was, shouldn’t she? There it was. Yay for her. She rubbed at her head. Her skin felt frozen.

  “I’ve turned them on,” she told the dispatcher. Her teeth chattering, she blasted the heater on full, trying to warm herself.

  “Good. Now, just wait there. The sheriff is about ten minutes out.”

  Wait here? She couldn’t just wait in the car while that poor man sat there in the rain. What if he woke up? What if the water level started to rise?

  “I can’t sit here. I’ll go sit with the injured man.”

  “The sheriff would rather you waited in the car, ma’am.”

  So, they were back to ma’am now? There was no mistaking the firm note in the dispatcher’s voice.

  “Well, the sheriff isn’t here yet, and I’m not leaving that poor man alone. What if he wakes up?” Even if she couldn’t do much to help, she could at least hold his hand and tell him everything was going to be all right.

  She really hoped it was going to be all right.

  “Ma’am, you’d do well to do as the sheriff says.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. Obviously, the sheriff was one of those types who’d let the power of his position go to his head.

  Wonderful.

  Well, Molly didn’t figure he could do anything to her for disobeying him.

  “Ma’am? Ma’am, are you there?”

  “Sorry, I can’t do that. I’m going back to sit with him. There’s no service down there so I’ll have to say goodbye. If the sheriff isn’t here in ten minutes, I’ll call back.” She hung up quickly before the woman could say anything. Hell, she hoped she hadn’t just made a stupid decision. Putting the phone back in her pocket, she climbed out into the rain. Away from the warm air blasting her car. She sighed. Maybe disobeying the sheriff wasn’t her brightest move, but she knew she couldn’t just sit in the car and hope for the best.

  She’d promised herself no regrets and she’d meant it.

  After grabbing an emergency blanket from her kit, she limped her way down the bank once more. Groaning loudly as her ankle protested every step.

  Her stomach dropped as she reached the bottom and realized the water level had risen. Now instead of reaching her knees it was just below her hips.

  Shit! How could it have risen that quickly? She knew about flash floods, but surely there needed to be more rain than this?

  Carefully she climbed onto the back of the truck. She reached through the open window and tried her best to wrap the blanket around the man. Then she took off her jacket to cover the window so he wasn’t getting rained on. Shivering non-stop, she tried to ignore the way the icy rain easily infiltrated her cotton sweatshirt. She was soaked within seconds. She worriedly watched the swirling, dark water below. She hoped that sheriff floored it. They needed to get him out of here. Now.

  Jake drove through the downpour as fast as he dared. He knew these roads like the back of his hand, but that didn’t mean he could act recklessly. The roads were slick, and visibility was poor. He wouldn’t do anyone any good if he had an accident as well.

  He’d been at the end of his shift for the night when an emergency call had come in. Duncan was busy with another call out, and they were down one deputy since Linc had taken some leave for his father’s funeral in Dallas. So, he’d taken the call.

  Wasn’t like he had much else to do. Not for the first time, he thought about Saxon’s words from a few weeks ago. Was it time to move on? He couldn’t imagine finding anyone like Rebecca again. She’d been his world, and he didn’t want to disrespect her memory by getting involved with someone else.

  But would she want him to live this way for the rest of his life? Alone? He hated to admit it, but he was lonely. He knew everyone in this town, some he counted as his friends. But he kept himself apart from them. Even Gavin, who he’d been best friends with for years. He’d thought moving back here after Rebecca’s death would help him. Yet, he felt lonelier than ever.

  He’d forgotten how to be a friend. A boyfriend. The word didn’t sit right with him. He was too old and seen too much shit to start all over. Saxon was wrong. He didn’t need to move on. His life was fine.

  He spotted the flash of hazard lights up ahead and slowed down. The ambulance would be about ten minutes behind him. He’d briefly heard a bit of the emergency call. The woman had sounded scared, maybe even a little hysterical. It was the last thing he needed when attending an accident alone. But he’d told Megan to make sure she remained in her car. With this downpour, he was certain she’d be only too pleased to follow his order.

  Who’d be out in this unless they had to?

  He slammed his hat on his head and pulled his jacket over his uniform. Grabbing his emergency first aid kit and his radio, he quickly climbed out and made his way to the car, wanting to get the woman reassured as soon as possible so he could deal with the real emergency.

  When she didn’t immediately jump out of her car, he gave a sigh of relief. Good, she had the sense to obey him and stay in her vehicle. At least she wasn’t going to be a problem.

  He stilled as he drew closer to the high-end vehicle. Opening the door, he peered inside with disbelief.

  God damn it.

  2

  She’d long ago decided God didn’t exist.

  How could someone be so cruel as to take a thirteen-year-old kid’s mom? Or to cause her dad such grief that he turned away from his own daughter. Nope, there was no God.

  But right now, she was praying. Not to God, but to the universe in general for that damned sheriff to hurry the fuck up. The water was still rising. Quickly. She shivered as the rain and wind lashed at her. Damn, it was cold.

  She turned to look up as a flash of light caught her eye.

  He was here. Hallelujah. This life and death stuff was why she hadn’t become a surgeon. Well, that and she wasn’t real keen on cutting into people.

  “It’s okay,” she told the unconscious man, reaching through the open window to squeeze his shoulder. “Help is here. Better help than me anyway. Of course, the damn man took his time.”

  “Excuse me?”

  With a screech, she turned.

  “Ma’am? What are you doing up there?” There was a distinct note of disapproval in the deep voice. She turned her flashlight on him, taking in the wide-brimmed hat and heavy-duty jacket, spotting the sheriff’s emblem on the sleeve.

  Oh, thank God.

  “Jesus, man, you gave me a heart attack,” she told him, her heart still racing. “And I’m up here because the doors wouldn’t op
en. The window back here was open. I checked his pulse, it’s weak and he’s unconscious but at least he’s breathing.”

  He shone his light through the window of the truck. She heard him swear softly.

  “Do you know him?” she asked.

  “Name’s Russ Barrett. He’s lived in these parts all his life.”

  “I put a blanket a-around him and used my jacket to t-try and keep the rain off him. How will we get him out, t-though?”

  He turned to her. “I’ll get him out. You’re freezing cold. You shouldn’t be out here in this weather. Get down from there. Now.”

  She found herself obeying him before she even realized it. Must be in more shock than she thought. Or maybe it was just the authoritative tone of his voice. This wasn’t a man who was used to disobedience. As she got near the side of the truck, he shocked her by clasping her around the waist and swinging her off. He waded through the thigh-deep water to put her down further up the bank, well away from the water. She had to hide her wince as she landed on her sore ankle.

  “Uh, thank you, but I could have done that myself.”

  He just grunted.

  She shivered, drawing in on herself, feeling utterly miserable.

  Toughen up, Molly.

  No matter how bad her circumstances were, that poor guy in the truck had it worse. The sheriff climbed up on the back of the truck and removed her jacket from the window so he could check on Russ.

  “My name’s Jake,” he said unexpectedly. “You’re Molly, right?”

  “Y-yes.” She was shaking with cold by now.

  “Are you okay? You’re not hurt?”

  “I’m fine.” She waved her hand at the vehicle. “He’s t-the one who’s injured. I don’t k-know how long he’s been here, but it’s p-possible he’s hypothermic and the w-water level is rising, so I’m w-worried he’s going to drown before we can get him out of there. I s-stayed here and talked to him. Is the ambulance on its way? Is—”