Feisty Heroines Romance Collection of Shorts

by D. F. Jones

  Which made him suddenly wonder. “What were you doing here so early in the morning?”

  “Just out for a ride. I couldn’t sleep.”

  He knew she was lying. “You weren’t leaving town? Without saying goodbye? Were you?”

  “Nope.” She stared him down, daring him to contradict her.

  “So, you’re staying, then? You and your motorcycle?”

  “Yes, I like it here. And you need someone to watch your back. I can’t leave you alone for even one second, it seems.”

  He’d never met anyone quite like Cat before. She was prickly and obstinate, wore her tattoos and piercings like some form of armor. But she was also pure of heart. And brave. Courageous. There weren’t many women who would rush into a burning building, ignore the danger to themselves to save a life. There was something about her that couldn’t be denied. Something that called to him. A door in his heart he’d thought had been locked up tight long ago, cracked open a little more every time she gave him that smile. The one you might wait days for, but when it came, it lit up the whole room. The whole world. When she smiled like that, his chest ignited, felt like it was on fire, flaming so hot, like his burning house.

  He liked her, he couldn’t deny it. He wanted to find out more about her. And she liked him, he could see it in the dark flash of her pupils as he leaned in to kiss her. Feel it in the way she responded to his lips.

  “I’m glad you’re staying.” He let his mouth brush the curve of her ear as he whispered the words. She shivered beneath the touch of his breath.

  “So am I,” she said, laying a hand on his chest, right above his pounding heart, giving him a slow, seductive smile. “So am I.”

  About Suzanne Cass

  Suzanne Cass is an Australian author who writes rural romance and romantic suspense abounding with passion and danger.

  Her debut novel, Island Redemption, won the Romance Writers of Australia (RWA) Emerald Award for the best unpublished romance manuscript in 2016. Glass Clouds, was also a finalist in the 2019 Romance Writers of Australia RUBY (Romantic Book of the Year) Awards in the romantic suspense category.

  When not writing about the characters that inhabit her head, Suzanne can be found roaming the Perth beaches with her border collie, or encouraging from the sidelines as her two sons play sport.

  Visit Suzanne’s website or subscribe to her newsletter.

  Also by Suzanne Cass

  Island Bound Series

  Books can be read as stand-alone

  Bound by Truth

  Bound by Silence

  Bound by the Stars

  * * *

  Colors of the Earth Series

  Books can be read as stand-alone

  Shadows in the Dust

  Shadows in Deep Blue

  Shadows of Red Earth

  * * *

  Romantic Suspense

  Single Title

  Island Redemption

  Glass Clouds

  Chasing Bullets

  Whiskey Love by Maria Vickers

  Chapter 1

  Mavis

  Mavis looked around her room and almost scoffed. Her room? Hardly. Her parents had basically sold her to the highest bidder, and her wedding loomed on the horizon. In less than twenty-four hours, she would be a married woman to the weak-willed, no backbone, rich wannabe mama’s boy, Jack Moore. She shuddered in disgust, sticking her tongue out as if she might throw up.

  How had this happened? How had she, the most eligible debutante in all of California, attracted such…filth? It wasn’t his station. She couldn’t care less about how much money his family had or where he lived. What she cared about was his attitude and the way he looked down upon anyone and everyone, as if he was better than them, and he was far from that. His family, he included, had clawed and scratched their way up from the dregs of society, each generation climbing a little higher than the one before, turning their backs on who they were, where they came from, and even their own family. They only cared about themselves, each and every one of them, and it sickened Mavis.

  Throwing another blouse into her bag with a whispered growl, she stomped her foot and froze, waiting for any signs of life to awaken and burst through her door. But they didn’t; the house remained blessedly silent, and she remained safe for now. She needed to hurry, though, because knowing her father, the peaceful stillness of the house would be broken within the next couple of hours, and she wanted to be long gone by then.

  Was she prepared to jilt her groom, to throw away her money and her family? Yes. A million times, yes.

  Her gaze searched the room for anything else that would be essential. She couldn’t take it all, but she could take things that would help her start her new life as Sierra Hooten, orphan and…well, she hadn’t come up with a job yet, but she was working on it. She had skills. From the age of fifteen, she could mix almost any drink, including those it was less than polite to mention, typed more than fifty words a minute, and could run a profitable company. Mavis’ grandparents always wanted her to have skills to survive, and they made sure she got her education, much to the chagrin of her mother.

  In fact, they hated Jack as much as Mavis, which further begged the question as to why her parents had chosen him for her. At best, he was a stuck-up prig with a stick shoved up his derriere, and at worst, he was a money-hungry charlatan who desired only one thing from her.

  Grabbing her robe, she scanned her dressing table to figure out what else to take when a knock at the door had her squealing. Her feet got tangled in the long silky material, twisting up around her ankles and toppling her to the ground. She groaned as her door swung open. Standing there, catching her in the act of running away, was none other than her beloved grandmother. Well, good news, Grandma Abbie was more likely to help her pack and give her train money than she was to scold her for her actions.

  Shutting the door quickly, Abbie shook her head and helped her granddaughter to her feet. “I thought you might try something. You okay, Chickpea?”

  Mavis smiled at the nickname her grandmother had given her the day she came screaming into the world, or so her grandfather said. Getting up slowly, she groaned when her right ankle protested, causing her to fall again with a grunt. “Da—”

  “Mavis Jolene Garnet!” her grandmother chastised.

  “I didn’t say it,” Mavis grumbled.

  “You were thinking it and almost did, that’s just as bad.”

  Narrowing her eyes, Mavis tilted her head to the side and licked her lips. “Oh, really?”

  Suddenly, the older woman laughed so hard, she sank to the floor beside her granddaughter. “Fine. I can’t keep up the pretense, but you need to keep that behind your teeth in this house. You know how your parents are. Although, I’m not sure how your mother ended up like that considering how she grew up.”

  Mavis leaned her head against Abbie’s shaking shoulder and sighed heavily. “Why the hell did they do this?”

  “Not sure, Chickpea, but they did. Jack isn’t so bad,” her grandmother said, and Mavis saw how she tried to hide her grimace.

  “He’s stubborn and just wants my money.”

  “Well, that’s where he is going to have some issues. Your father gets a salary from the company, but everything is going to you. You can choose what you want to do with it. As for the wedding…” Abbie’s words trailed off as she wrapped one arm around her favorite granddaughter. “Maybe you are a means to his end. Not everything is as it seems, Chickpea.”

  “You’re going to tell me I need to go through with it, aren’t you?” Mavis grumbled, her shoulders slumping.

  “I’m…Chickpea, let me tell you a story, and then you can make your own decision.”

  “Is this about growing up in the mountains and living in the shack?”

  Shaking her head, Abbie kissed the top of Mavis’s blonde head and pushed her away. “Not really.”

  “Is this about the time when you had to shoot the trespasser and protect Uncle Samuel?”

  A
bbie snickered. “No.”

  Rolling her eyes, Mavis carefully extracted herself from the robe and used one of the posters on her bed to pull herself off of the floor. She put a little bit of weight on her foot to test it, wincing as she did so. Instead of attempting to escape, she sat on her bed and pulled her hurt foot up to massage it. Maybe if she indulged her grandmother, the older woman would help her out the front door and into a taxi or something, or even drive her to the station.

  “I’m going to tell you a story about a woman who defied the odds and survived, and then you can decide for yourself what you will do with your life. If you still want to run away, I’ll help you and even give you enough money to keep you going.” Abbie winked and sat down next to Mavis on the bed.

  Mavis stuck her hand out and shook her grandmother’s hand. “Deal.”

  “A few years back—”

  “Only a few?” Mavis snickered.

  Abbie flicked her granddaughter’s arm. “Stop interrupting, and let me say what I need to say.”

  Sweeping her arm around in front of her in a grand flourish, Mavis said, “Please, continue.”

  “I will, Miss Smarty Pants.” Abbie paused and tapped her finger on her chin.

  Mavis had always loved this woman and spent as much time with her as possible when she was growing up. While she loved her parents, her grandparents understood her like no one else. Around them, she could be a free spirit and speak her mind, her manners left at the threshold of her grandmother’s home. Now, she looked at Abbie Chambers, really looked, and for the first time, noticed how old she had gotten through the years. Wrinkles she didn’t have when Mavis was a young girl lined her face, and her long hair that had once been as red as the sunrise was now pulled back into a graying braid. Her grandmother had aged, and Mavis didn’t know when it had happened. “Tell me everything, Grandma,” Mavis whispered, leaning into the older woman once again and lacing their fingers together.

  Chapter 2

  Abbie

  1916

  Life had changed. No longer were the saloons open, selling beer or other spirits, no longer were men staggering around town drunk in public, and no longer was Abbie’s family living a comfortable life. Their bar had been sold the year before, and her father had struggled to find work since. Prohibition. They said it was for the good of the territory, but they were wrong. Her family wasn’t better for prohibition, and it was only a matter of time before other territories followed.

  Abbie was only sixteen, but she’d been working to help the family since she was eleven and could carry a tray and deliver drinks to customers in her family’s bar. Prohibition changed all of that. Now, instead of delivering alcohol, she helped her mother launder clothes and linens for the residents of Denver.

  “Abbie, have you finished ironing the blouses for Mrs. Shavers?” Loretta, Abbie’s mother, called out from another room in their small four-room house. Living room, kitchen, two bedrooms…and sometimes it felt even tinier than that.

  Rolling her eyes, Abbie quietly groaned in the kitchen. She wasn’t sure why her mother yelled when merely a wall separated them.

  “Abbie?” her mother shouted.

  “Yes, Mama. The last blouse was just finished,” Abbie answered, placing the last item on the pile next to her and setting the iron on the hot plate.

  Loretta bustled into the room and inspected the pile before collecting the items and floating away as quickly as she had appeared. A moment later, Abbie heard the front door open and close, which meant she had a brief reprieve from laboring.

  Sitting in a chair at the dining table, she scanned the room. After her father sold the bar and the only home she had ever known since their apartment was above the establishment, he found them this small house on the outskirts of the city. Abbie had thought moving into a house meant it would be larger than their previous lodging. It wasn’t. It lacked warmth. Yes, she had her family, and they loved each other, but this house was not her home. One day, things would change, and she would have her home back.

  The front door slammed open, and Hamish, her father, yelled, “Abbie!”

  Here we go again, Abbie complained inwardly as she plastered on a smile. “Yes, Papa? I’m in the kitchen.” She pretended to be busy when her father appeared in the doorway. He’d been struggling, and she wished to do what she could to ease his burdens.

  When she looked up and saw him, her heart sank. His hands were strangling his hat, and sweat poured off of him like a waterfall. Had something happened? “Papa?”

  “Abbie Girl, I…” He stopped and swallowed hard.

  Abbie’s anxiety rose, and she pushed passed him, yelling, “Samuel?” Her brother was half her age and had been in the front yard the last she saw him a couple of hours ago.

  “He went with your mother to deliver the laundry,” Hamish Murphy said, a tremor in his voice.

  Slowly, Abbie spun around, her body tense and on guard. “What is going on, Papa?”

  “Abbie Girl…” He swallowed hard again, opened his mouth, and snapped it shut. Nothing, not even a sound escaped.

  “Say what you need to say, old man!” she snapped, her patience running out, and she didn’t feel guilty for her outburst. Her father, who stood over six feet, looked small and terrified with his black hair and beard drenched with sweat. Selling the bar had been a hard blow, and since then, he’d lost himself. Hamish Murphy no longer seemed the large, imposing giant. Now, he appeared as nothing more than an ordinary man.

  Jumping, Hamish teetered back one step and then another before righting himself. He cleared his throat, stood up straight, dropped his hands to his sides, and met his daughter’s gaze. “You are to marry Nathan Chambers,” he declared.

  Abbie felt as if she’d been punched in her gut. Married? While many of her friends from her school days were married already, she never expected her father to do something like this. Not when she still mourned the one man she would ever love. Elvin Sanderson had died only six months prior in a logging accident. They’d planned on marrying, her father approving the match only the week before. And then her world came crashing down. Somehow, she picked up the pieces and moved on; she had to since she needed to help her family. She fell apart when alone, and showed a brave face around others. Inside, she died the day Elvin went to be with the angels.

  And now this? How could her father do this to her? It was too soon. Too much. Too hard.

  Nathan Chambers? He and his family lived in the woods, surrounded by trees and no people. She hadn’t realized her father even knew him or his kin.

  “Papa,” Abbie croaked. Her throat felt tight, and she couldn’t breathe. Falling into the chair next to her, she wrapped her arms around her middle. In the distance, she heard someone scream, or was that her?

  “Forgive me, but one less mouth to feed means one less person to worry about…” His words drifted off.

  Abbie could barely hear over the pounding and thundering of her heart. “Why?”

  “We had to, and it might be the best for you as well,” Hamish told her, stepping close to her side and laying his hand on her shoulder. “I am truly sorry for this.”

  His steps moved away from her, disappearing up the stairs.

  Straightening her shoulders, she lifted her head and breathed in deeply, wiping her tears away. For the best? Not likely, but she would do what was expected of her like she always did.

  Chapter 3

  Abbie

  With no courtship, no wooing, no love, Abbie married Nathan Chambers at the age of sixteen and moved out of her family’s house and into another. A one-room cabin located less than a hundred feet from his parents’, deep in the woods toward the top of a mountain. It had taken two horses and a mule to help them to their destination; no wagon would have reached this remote place.

  She looked around the homestead and shivered. She was well and truly alone now. A cabin, an outhouse out back, and nothing else except the trees and dirt.

  “This way,” Nathan said, untying her bags from
the mule.

  He led the way inside, and Abbie had to hide her grimace. The three windows were dirty and brown, as was the floor. On the back wall was a wood-burning stove and shelves holding what appeared to be the essentials. To her left was a bed, and to her right, a rocking chair plus a table and two other chairs. It was simple, but they didn’t need much to survive.

  “It is…” Before she could force herself to say anything else, he walked out and left her standing in the middle of the room alone.

  Peering through the door, she noticed him unloading the remaining packages containing food and other items from the mule. This was now her house. She couldn’t bring herself to say home because hers sat above the saloon her father used to own. Her home would have been with Elvin, not with Nathan. Until three days ago, she’d only seen Nathan or his family in passing, never speaking anything beyond good morning or good day.

  A loud thump caused her to jump and spin around, her hand covering her chest. Nathan dropped the last bag on the floor by the door and shut it, throwing the whole cabin into darkness. The flicker of a tiny flame followed the scraping sound of a match rubbing against flint and the smell of sulfur. Nathan lit a lamp, and the glow bathed the room in light.

  “I have to help my pa with a few things tonight. Make yourself at home. You can put your things in the cabinet there.” He pointed to his left, and she looked, her gaze landing on a small wardrobe she had missed before. It was by no means the fine furniture she’d had before, but it appeared functional.

  “Thank you,” she squeaked, her voice strangled.

  Nodding, he turned to leave but stopped before he opened the door. “I realize this all must have been a surprise to you and rushed, and I reckon we don’t know each other much. I won’t touch you for now. You don’t have to worry. I know you were betrothed to Elvin Sanderson.”