Brides on the Run (Books 1-4): Small-Town Romance Series

by Jami Albright

  She fought the urge to jump and grab for it like a child. Instead, she held her hand out like the adult she was. “Yes. Give it back.”

  “I don’t think so.” He walked to the curb and dropped the key down the storm drain.

  Her brain couldn’t make sense of what was going on. Her father was coming to drag her back to the wedding. She had no way to get into her house. And Tank might truly be dangerous. Panic began to inch its way around her chest. “You’re insane. I’m calling the police.” She took off toward her neighbor’s house to borrow their phone.

  Two steps were as far as she got before a beefy pair of arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground.

  “I guess you didn’t hear me.”

  What the hell? “Put me down, you meathead.” She wriggled and kicked, but in Tank’s iron grip it had zero affect. This was a nightmare. She couldn’t see her father, she’d never been able to tell him no. If she went back she would end up Luanne Divan.

  Tank swung her around like she weighed nothing and deposited her into the back seat of his Range Rover. He buckled her in, slammed the door, and locked it with the fob. The interior of the vehicle was like a sauna and made getting a deep breath difficult. Her cold, numb fingers fumbled with the seat belt. One click, and she was free, or so it seemed. But the child safety lock was engaged on both back doors. They wouldn’t open. A frustrated scream ripped from her throat, and she banged impotently on the window. Her anxiety ratcheted up with every step Tank took toward the driver’s door.

  Just as he got to the front of the car a black streak knocked him to the ground.

  Jack.

  She fought to crawl into the front seat, but couldn’t get her dress out of the way. The smell of new car and stress sweat curdled her stomach. A cocktail of fear and adrenaline made her head swim, but determination not to be this meathead’s victim propelled her past those things.

  Miles of lace and crinoline hampered her crawl over the console, not to mention the fight ensuing between the two men on the lawn. Her muscles strained for every inch of progress. Finally, she tumbled into the front seat and jumped out of the car.

  Neither man seemed to notice. Jack sat on Tank’s chest, pummeling him with blows, but Tank deflected as many as Jack landed. The lawyer had him in height but the ex-linebacker was strong as an ox. Tank bucked, reared up, and threw Jack over his head.

  The minute Tank gained his feet, he pulled a stun gun on Jack. A mother-lovin’ stun gun.

  Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

  What was she going to do? She didn’t have her phone to call the police, and she wouldn’t leave Jack to run to the neighbors. Where were her damn nosey neighbors?

  The two men were circling each other. Tank was saying something to Jack, but she couldn’t hear anything over the blood hammering in her ears.

  She had to do something. Standing there like a helpless damsel and letting Jack get hurt wasn’t an option. There was no other choice. Time to put up or shut up. She yanked up her dress and made a running leap for Tank’s back, screaming like a wild woman. Her arms and legs went around him and she hung on for dear life.

  For a second Jack stood still with his head cocked like he couldn’t actually believe what he was seeing. Tank spun around, trying to throw her like a bucking bull.

  “Don’t just stand there. Do something!” Desperation was laced through her shriek. There was no way she would last for a full eight-second ride.

  Her would-be rescuer kicked out and knocked the stun gun from Tank’s hand while the bigger man thrashed around trying to dislodge her. He got tangled in the fabric of her enormous dress, and they both went crashing to the ground.

  Her moment of heroism had passed. A blur of grass and dirt came at her face, and fear froze her heart. Time to get away from her father’s goon. With the forward momentum of the fall, she rolled out of the combat zone.

  Jack coldcocked Tank with a right cross. Luanne was stunned as the ex-football player’s eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp.

  “Is he dead?”

  “No. I only knocked him out. Holy shit.” Jack flicked his hand up and down and flexed his fingers. “Let’s get out of here.” He reached down and grabbed Tank’s car keys.

  He tried to take her hand, but she shook him off. All she could do was stare at Tank’s motionless form.

  This loser tried to kidnap her.

  He’d put his hands on her.

  He’d threatened her, and now he would pay.

  She marched to where the stun gun lay on the ground. In one move she picked it up and flicked it on.

  “Luanne?”

  She ignored Jack. This was between her and Tank.

  “Luanne. You don’t—”

  “Shut up, Jack.” She marched over to Tank, placed the weapon to his crotch and pulled the trigger. Tank groaned and curled into the fetal position. “Don’t ever put your hands on me again, you scumbag.” She dropped the stun gun, stepped over him, and calmly walked past Jack toward his car. “Jack, I’m gonna need a ride out of town.”

  “Ooookay.”

  Once she’d crammed her body and dress in the car, she glanced at Jack. He stared at her from the driver’s seat with some emotion she didn’t have the energy to decipher. She pushed her hair from her sweaty forehead. “What?”

  He chuckled and shook his head, jammed the key in the ignition and slammed his foot on the accelerator. “Like I said, sometimes you scare me, Thumbelina.”

  Chapter 4

  Luanne dabbed at the cut near Jack’s hairline with a wet paper towel, while he griped and moaned. Her patient sat on the closed toilet lid of the gas station restroom they’d pulled into as soon as they were out of town. The smell was almost as bad as his complaining. Almost.

  “Ouch. That big son-of-a-bitch has a nasty left hook.”

  “I don’t think you need stitches. A Band-Aid should work.” She rifled through the plastic grocery bag from the convenience store and pulled out some antibacterial ointment and Band-Aids. “Hold still.”

  “Damn it, that stings. Are you sure you got the right thing?”

  She held the tube in front of his face. “It’s the right thing. Don’t be such a baby. Now, put that bag of frozen peas on your jaw and let me handle this.”

  “What the hell happened back there?”

  “I don’t know. Tank said he was supposed to keep me there until my dad arrived.” The bitter reality soured her gut. It clogged her throat and reduced her words to a whisper. “I knew my father wanted this wedding, but I never dreamed he’d try to force me to marry Doug.”

  “That’s seriously screwed up.”

  “I guess since he arranged the whole thing he’s bound and determined to see it happen.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She wasn’t talking to Jack about her screwed-up relationship with her father.

  Her hands shook as she opened the bandage box. He wrapped his warm fingers around hers. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re out of town and pretty soon you’ll be a whole state away.”

  She nodded. She couldn’t trust her voice. It was all so surreal, and the fact that Jack was the one who’d saved her was almost too much to deal with. She now owed him for two huge things. It made her itchy and irritable. Nothing good ever came from owing anyone anything. The bandage went on and she began cleaning up the supplies. “You pretty much got your ass kicked, Jackie Boy.”

  “You saw me take him down, right?”

  “Yeah, after I helped you.”

  “You looked like a rabid marshmallow.”

  They both laughed.

  She grabbed the sweetheart neckline of her dress and yanked it back into place. I’ve got to get out of this dress.”

  “I could help with that.” He tried to waggle his brow and winced.

  “Shut up, Jack.”

  “You’re no fun, Thumbelina.”

  His comment rolled off of her—a sure sign of how stressed she was. What was she going to do? She didn’t hav
e her ID or wallet. She had no car, no clothes and no way to get any of those things. “Can I borrow your phone?”

  “Sure.” He dug it from his pocket and handed it to her.

  She scrolled through his contacts. “You don’t have Scarlett’s number?”

  “No. If I need Gavin I call him, not his wife. Besides, Gavin would kick my ass if I called to chat with his wife.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll call Gavin.”

  She pulled up his contact info and dialed. It rang, then she heard his voice say, “Hey—”

  “Gavin, thank—”

  “You’ve reached my cell. Leave a message at the tone. If this is my wife, I’m thinking dirty thoughts about you.” Beeeeeep.

  “Oh, brother.”

  Jack peered into the mirror, inspecting Luanne’s handiwork. “You get his voice mail?”

  “Yes. They’re ridiculous.”

  “I know. That boy is whipped.” He gingerly poked at a bruise on his temple. “Good luck getting him to call you back. He never checks his messages. You should text him.”

  “Good idea.” While she typed out a text, she couldn’t help but notice that even after a fight Jack still looked like he could model for GQ. “They’re both whipped. The best thing about Gavlett,” the name the two of them had given Gavin and Scarlett, “is Aiden. That kid’s a hoot.”

  Jack smiled at her in the mirror. “He is. He called me a tooty head the other day.”

  She grinned. “Smart boy.”

  “Geez, let’s get out of here. It’s like a smelly sauna.” He grabbed his jacket from the hook on the door and opened it for her.

  After the fetid stench of the bathroom, the motor oil and gas saturated air of the convenience store parking lot smelled like heaven.

  She dialed Gavin’s number a second time and left a message for Scarlett to call her on Jack’s phone. There was no telling how long it would take her friend to call her back. She knew what she had to do, and it just about killed her to do it. “Jack?”

  He turned to her. “Yeah?”

  She chewed her lip. Her stomach rolled and flopped. “Can I borrow some money?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “I’ll pay you back. I mean, I’m good for it. It’s only that I couldn’t get my purse or anything and I don’t have any money on me.” She held her hands out to prove she wasn’t hiding a purse or money bag.

  He unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it into his mouth. “I know. How much do you need?”

  She was shocked. He wasn’t going to make her work for it? Had Tank hit him harder than she thought? “I don’t know. Not much. I only need some clothes. Nothing fancy, though.”

  “Hold on.” He jogged into the store.

  She could see him talking to the clerk and the clerk pointing this way and that. A minute later he jogged back up to the car. “Get in.”

  “What were you doing?”

  “Asking the guy if there was a shopping center in this Podunk town.”

  “I don’t need a shopping center, just a small shop where I can get something to cover my body other than this dress.”

  “Good. Because there isn’t a shopping center, but there is a Charity Mart.” He opened the car door. “Ever been there?”

  “No, have you?” No way Jack in his tailored suits and gazillion dollar sports cars had ever been to Charity Mart.

  “You haven’t lived until you’ve bought an entire secondhand outfit, a television, and a push lawnmower from a thrift store.”

  Jack perused the aisle of the Lido, Texas, Charity Mart. After he’d begun making money at sixteen, he vowed he’d never step foot into a thrift store again. Everything about this place screamed desperation to him. Maybe he was projecting, because that’s how he’d felt all those years ago when this was the only place his mother shopped.

  It had all been fine until the day Paul Sanders, an older boy in middle school, noticed Jack wearing one of his old shirts. It was one of Jack’s favorites, a Dallas Cowboys football jersey with Troy Aikman’s name and signature on it. Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed that Troy had autographed it to Paul.

  The whole experience had been horrible. For one thing, he never knew they were truly poor until that moment. It’d crushed something inside him. For another, he’d been talking to Laurie Teagan when Paul made his announcement. Twenty years later and he could still feel the hot pricks of mortification on his face.

  The only good thing to come from that nightmare was the discovery of his superpower. Even though he was dying of embarrassment inside, he’d grinned at Paul and said, “I’m sure it looked good on you, but it looks better on me.” There was a moment of stunned silence, then Paul laughed, ruffled Jack’s hair, and said, “You’re alright, kid.” After that he became the older kid’s official mascot, because he was funny, charming, and hid every negative emotion he’d ever had.

  He’d learned a valuable lesson that day. It doesn’t matter if you’re dying on the inside, it’s what people see on the outside that matters. Charm may be deceitful, but it’s the best weapon to have in your arsenal.

  Exhaustion grabbed at him and he rubbed an ache at the base of his skull. The remaining adrenaline from the fight pulsed through his veins and made his head hurt. He hadn’t acted that out of control since…well, never. Not even in high school when Chuck Waverly hit on his girlfriend right in front of his face. He’d wanted to beat the shit out of the rich mama’s boy, but he’d only plastered on a cocky grin, shrugged, and said, “Take her if you want her.” It almost killed him, but if everyone knew how he really felt about Staci Adair, then he’d appear weak, and weak and poor were a socially deadly combination.

  Plus, going after Chuck probably wouldn’t have done any good anyway. It was only a matter of time before Staci, the love of his young life, was lured away by Chuck’s convertible and fancy dinners. He’d only accelerated the inevitable. No way could he have competed with that back then. He brushed his finger over the fringe of a woman’s poncho and wished Chuck and Staci could see him now.

  He caught a glimpse of himself in a five-dollar gold-framed mirror that his mother would’ve snatched up in a heartbeat. Older, wiser, and more successful, he’d made something of himself, damn it. He’d constructed a life anyone would envy. Not a normal life, because who wanted normal, but an exceptional life. One that didn’t resemble his poverty-stricken childhood and was blessedly drama free. Sure, his clients had boatloads of drama, but that was their shit. He was in total control of his life.

  Well he had been until a few hours ago, when he’d let his…curiosity? lust? heart? get the best of him and gone after a sexy pixie. Now, he’d lost all control and had a starring role in a runaway bride drama.

  He examined the dressing room door that hid the source of his troubles. “You doin’ alright in there, Luanne?”

  “I’m fine. I can’t believe all the stuff you can get here. Some of these clothes have barely been worn.” She waved a blouse over the top of the door. “This is a Michael Kors blouse, it’s missing a button, but with some needle and thread it would be perfect, and it’s only five dollars.”

  He shook his head and grinned. She sounded just like his mother.

  Look at these shoes, Jack. They’ve barely been worn.

  This jacket is nice. Yes, it has a little rip in it, but I can sew that right up.

  There’s not a thing wrong with this bike, nothin’ a little air in the tires and spray paint won’t fix.

  “Yeah, it can be a real treasure trove of gently used things.” And a bottomless pit of self-loathing.

  “I know. I found this Ralph Lauren dress. I don’t even need a dress, but for $9.99, I can’t say no.”

  Why did hearing the glee in her voice make his heart speed up? “You enjoy spending my money. I feel like a sugar daddy.”

  She snorted. “A low-rent sugar daddy.”

  “You wound me, Luanne.”

  The lock clicked and the door cracked open, revealing her beautiful face. “Ha. Yeah
, right. I think your gigantic ego can handle it.”

  He caught a glimpse of the creamy skin across her shoulder and his mouth watered. “Having trouble with that zipper?”

  “Yes. Stupid thing got stuck.” She turned her back to him. “Can you help me?”

  It was time he shook off the sad-sack memories of the past and focused on the perfect distraction the universe had given him. “Sure.”

  “Thanks…what are you doing?”

  “I’m coming in.” He shoved into the dressing room and slid the lock into place. “Unless you want the whole store to see your naked backside.”

  “Jack.” There was a warning in her voice that he probably should listen to, but something about this woman made him reckless as hell.

  “Turn around, Luanne.” He almost lost it when her bare back came into view. It was a playground he wanted to explore. “No bra?” The words barely made it past dry vocal chords.

  “I only had a strapless for the dress and it cuts into me, so I took it off.” Did she sound a little breathy too?

  The zipper sank to a tantalizing depth. Twin indentations on either side of her spine appeared right above a tiny scrap of white lace. Lace that enveloped a perfect ass and hid delights he’d only ever been able to dream about. The recklessness raging through him traveled south. Great, now his other brain was fully onboard this ill-advised course. His thoughts scrambled until he stopped thinking altogether. “Good decision.”

  He took a hold of the rough metal zipper and grazed her soft, creamy flesh. Warmth pulsed through his body and he quickly abandoned the idea of covering her up. Lost in a blast of desire, he trailed a finger up her spine, the velvety path, the sexiest thing he’d explored in a long time.

  Gooseflesh broke out on her skin. “Jack?”

  This was madness. He should stop. But no amount of money in the world could’ve made him walk out of that dressing room. Luanne stood stock still. Their eyes met in the mirror. Hers were dilated and bright with desire, and he knew his were too.

  She licked her lips. “I—”

  “Shh.” He tunneled his fingers through her hair and bent to kiss between her shoulders. She smelled like the worst and best decision he’d ever made wrapped in a candy coating. Electricity shot to his groin. He had to taste her.