by Rita Herron
SAFE IN HIS ARMS
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Other Books
About the Author
Safe in His Arms
Copyright © 2018 by Rita Herron
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, transmitted, or distributed in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without specific written permission from the publisher. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher are illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Beachside Reads
Norcross, GA 30092
Cover Design: Jeffery Olsen
Cover Photo: The Illustrated Romance, https://illustratedromance.com
Print Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency
eBook Interior Design: Dayna Linton, Day Agency
ISBN: 978-1-949178-00-5 (Paperbook)
ISBN: 978-1-949178-01-2 (eBook)
Third Edition: 2018
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
Printed in the USA
To Dayna Linton—friend, assistant—and lifesaver!
No one will ever love you like I do.
The first time Geoffrey Jones whispered those words to Mia Matthews she’d thought it was romantic. That she’d never grown tired of his doting affection.
Then it had become obsessive. Smothering.
Threatening.
Terrifying.
She had to get away from him. In fact, she’d been planning her escape for months. Ever since the last time he’d vented his temper on her and sent her to the ER.
He reached over in the bed and spooned her, sliding one hand over her breast to squeeze it. She drew a deep breath as if she was asleep, hoping he wouldn’t push for more this morning.
A second later, he whispered in her ear. “You know I love you, Mia. I wish we had time for another round, but I have a breakfast meeting.”
Thank God. She was still sore from his lovemaking the night before.
Pretending to be the dutiful wife, she rolled over and gave him a kiss. “Have a nice day.”
He framed her face in his hands, gentle, almost like the old Geoff, the charming man she’d dated and fallen for.
Before the beast had been unleashed.
His coppery, snake eyes bore into hers, assessing, probing. “You’ll be here when I get home tonight?”
She forced a smile, knowing any hint of defiance—or her plans—would set him off. “Of course. I was going to make that prime rib you like for dinner.”
“With the little new potatoes and asparagus?”
“Yes. And your favorite cheesecake for dessert.”
Relief filled his face. “Good. I’ll pick up a bottle of wine.”
“That sounds lovely.”
He stared at her for another minute, an odd expression flickering in his eyes, and she hoped she hadn’t gone overboard with the cheesecake.
Then he stroked her hair from her cheek. “You are such a wonderful wife.”
Meaning she was being obedient.
Hopefully for the last time in her life. If she escaped him, she’d never allow another man to order her around. Tell her what to wear. How to fix her hair. How to talk and smile.
How to raise her unborn child.
She watched as he climbed naked from bed and strode into the bathroom to shower. Sinewy muscles and impeccable abs, not an ounce of fat on his lean body, because like everything else, Geoff carried working out to an obsession.
Twenty minutes later, the designer suit he chose indicated the breakfast meeting was important. Probably with another multi-million-dollar client from the law firm.
He thought his wealth and lavish gifts would keep her satisfied.
But she could care less about the money.
She wanted out.
She refused to raise a baby with a father who ruled the house with his fists.
As soon as the door clicked shut and the sound of the alarm dinged that he’d reset it, she rose and showered, forcing herself not to rush in case he forgot his keys or wallet.
Thirty minutes later, adrenaline-spiked and a voice whispered in her head, urging her to hurry. She rushed to her hiding spot, retrieved the cash she’d saved along with the phony ID and the debit card under that name, and raced outside to her car. Once she got out of town, she’d ditch the Toyota and catch a bus out of Austin. From there, she’d take different buses in a zigzag pattern to thwart detection.
Maybe she’d settle in some small town out west. A ranch out in the country where it was quiet and peaceful.
Someplace Geoff would never find her.
She had just closed the trunk and walked back inside to grab the .22 she’d purchased for protection when the kitchen door swung open and Geoff stepped inside. Pistol in hand, she quickly tried to store it in the kitchen drawer, but his disapproving gaze raked over her, and his lips thinned into a straight line.
“Going somewhere, Mia?”
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Just to the market to pick up fresh vegetables for dinner. I thought you had an early breakfast meeting.”
A muscle jumped in his cheek as the familiar look of fury darkened his face. “I do. With you.”
He suddenly lunged for her, and she knew what was coming.
Panicking, she swung the pistol up. “No, Geoff. Not this time. You’re going to let me leave.”
A cynical laugh rumbled from his throat. “I will never let you go, Mia.”
She pulled the trigger, but it made a clicking sound and no bullet fired. Panic hit her as he dropped the bullets onto the counter.
His eyes narrowed. “You didn’t really think you could hide anything from me, did you?” He reached up and twirled a strand of her hair around his fingers. “I’m your husband. You promised to love me forever.”
“Geoff, please . . .”
But she never finished the sentence. He drew his fist back and slammed it into her jaw. She staggered backward, the gun flipped from her hand onto the floor, and he grabbed her throat.
Fighting him always made it worse, so she normally cowered and tried to protect her face. But not this time.
Determination kicked in and she struggled, kicking and pulling at his hands. He flung her against the counter, and she managed to open a drawer and grab a knife. She jabbed it at him, but he was stronger, and they wrestled for it.
A blow to her stomach knocked the breath out of her, and she buckled, giving him just enough time to yank the knife from her hand.
One slice to her arm and blood trickled down her wrist. Then he raised the knife and pressed it to her throat.
> Fear mingled with rage. God help her.
He was going to kill her before she had a chance to escape.
Six months later
Texas Ranger Sergeant Alex Townsend scrubbed a hand over his face as he studied the police report on his computer.
Three inmates escaped the Huntsville State Penitentiary when a fire broke out in the prison a few hours ago.
All three prisoners are considered armed and extremely dangerous.
Mugshots appeared on the screen with the inmates’ names listed below the photos.
Forty-year-old Larry Buckham was serving a life sentence for murder. Twenty-seven-year-old Robert Simpleton was on death row for the brutal slaying of three girls outside of Austin. And thirty-year-old Geoffrey Jones was serving a fifteen-year sentence for the vicious assault and attempted murder of his wife Mia.
A statewide manhunt is underway.
Alex’s throat tightened. The last man, Geoffrey Jones—that had been Alex’s case. The images of Mia’s delicate face, bruised and battered from the beating she’d taken from her husband, flashed in his head.
Truth was, the image had haunted him ever since he’d met Mia.
She was petite, barely five-three, with ebony hair that flowed down her back and the biggest chocolate brown eyes he’d ever seen. Eyes that had felt too much pain at the hands of a man who proclaimed to love her.
Fragile as she’d appeared the first time he’d seen her lying in that hospital bed with barely an inch on her that wasn’t black and blue, and knife wounds that covered her arms and stomach, she’d turned out to be a courageous little bundle in court.
For once, the justice system had worked. When her lawyer had flashed the photos the police had snapped when she’d been brought into the ER, the jury’s reaction had been audible shock.
Thankfully Jones’s money, fancy law degree, and charming smile hadn’t swayed the jury.
Even the bastard’s show of undying love for his wife hadn’t fooled them. They’d recognized his declaration of devoted love for what it was—a sick man’s obsession and need for control.
They’d found Jones guilty within a half hour after going into deliberation.
Which had pissed off Jones royally. He was accustomed to always having his way. Living in style. And having others bow to his commands,
Alex stood, swiping his hand down his chin. Dammit. Now the man was loose, he knew exactly where he would go.
To find Mia.
Alex muttered a curse and strode through the bullpen, his hand gripping his phone and checking for Mia’s current address as he rushed down the stairs and outside to his car.
The prisoners had escaped the night before around midnight. It was six a.m. now.
Meaning Jones had hours on him. Hours to track down Mia.
He had to hurry.
Mia rode the chestnut across the Crossties Ranch, Crossties because of the two families who’d joined in marriage after a long family feud. Henry McCauley and his wife Joy were getting up in age and needed help with exercising and training their horses, and she’d jumped at the chance.
She’d never felt freer in her entire life.
No cell phone in her hands at all times in case Geoff needed to know where she was. No one watching over her shoulder like a hawk to make sure she kept the house spic and span. No one forcing her to smile for his friends and then punishing her later because he’d misread a smile as flirtation. No one telling her what she could and couldn’t do as if she was a child.
No one reprimanding her for not being the perfect wife.
In fact, horseback riding was one of the things Geoff had hated. And if he hated it, they hadn’t done it.
She hadn’t been allowed.
If only she’d seen that side of him before the nuptials. But no, he’d been a charismatic gentlemen who’d wooed her with gifts, flowers, fancy dinners and compliments.
Naïve her. Having grown up with a father who’d skipped out when she was two and a mother who’d faded into a booze bottle, she’d been completely snowed by Geoff’s attention.
He’d held his deep, dark secret close to the vest until after the honeymoon. Twelve months, twenty-two days and sixteen hours. That’s how long their marriage had lasted.
Twelve months, twenty-two days and sixteen hours too long.
Unlike the McCauleys who were going on fifty years now. Such a sweet couple. Joy liked to cook and Henry oversaw the cattle side of the business. At one time, between the ranch hands, cook, and vet they kept on retainer, they’d had nearly a hundred employees. But slowly, Henry had sold off the herd and parcels of land, and now he was down to a dozen ranch hands the cook, and her. She was responsible for exercising and grooming the horses.
A cool spring breeze rustled the trees and sent wildflowers swaying by the pond as she passed. Several Longhorns stood chewing their cud and lazing around the water as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
Sunshine glinted off the stones and boulders in the distance, the scent of fresh hay and grass wafting around her as she neared the stables.
The sight of the official-looking Texas Ranger vehicle parked in front of the main house made her breath catch.
Had something happened to make Henry and Joy call the police?
Or . . . no . . . Geoff was locked away in the state penitentiary. He wasn’t eligible for parole for seven years.
But just as she steered the chestnut toward the house, Sergeant Alex Townsend stepped from the vehicle. He tilted his hat and looked at her with those deep, dark assessing eyes, and her heart began to pound.
Her worst fear was that Geoff would somehow get out and come for her. That he would be free again.
His freedom meant hers had come to an end.
And his release was the only reason she could think of for Sgt. Townsend to come here himself.
Alex sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of Mia riding up on that horse. With the wind blowing her long dark hair around her face, and the sun glinting off her skin, she looked so peaceful.
Happy.
A far cry from the frightened battered woman he’d met in the hospital.
Guilt made his stomach knot.
He was about to rob that peace from her and hoist her back into the world of fear she’d lived with for months.
A frown replaced the contentment he’d seen earlier as she drew the horse to a halt, slid from the animal’s back, tied the horse to a hitching post, then walked toward him. He couldn’t help but soak in her features and the changes in her. Her once pale skin glowed a golden bronze now from the Texas sun.
And those eyes—before they’d been filled with sadness, anger, the kind of terror no woman should ever experience at the hands of the man who’d vowed to cherish and love her.
For a moment before she’d dismounted and realized he’d been driving that police vehicle, happiness had shimmered in the depths.
Guilt sliced through him because he was about to destroy that happiness.
Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Where she’d been way too thin before, she’d actually gained weight and in all the right places, giving her curves that would make a man’s mouth water.
He froze, irritated at his reaction. Mia Matthews had been part of a case he’d worked. A victim for God’s sake.
Off limits.
She still was.
Alex had a hard and fast rule about staying single. Kept his emotions intact and his social life, sex, separate from the job.
It was safer for everyone that way.
“Sgt. Townsend,” Mia said, her voice crisp as if bracing herself for bad news.
He tipped his Stetson, his body humming with anxiety. She didn’t deserve to have to live in fear again. “Mia.”
The wind tossed strands of her hair around her cheek, and she tucked it behind her e
ar. His gaze caught on one of the scars on her fingers.
Awareness fluttered through her, and she instantly dropped her hand. “I don’t suppose you’re here to buy a horse.”
He shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”
A heartbeat passed, fraught with tension, then she sighed wearily. “What happened?”
Two ranch hands were riding up. He didn’t want to spill the news to her in front of them. “Can we go inside and talk?”
She studied him for a long moment, “Sure. But let’s go to my cabin. I think I need to sit down.”
He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way. She turned, and he found his gaze glued to her backside. Tight worn jeans hugged her butt, her ponytail swaying as she led him past the stable and down a path by the creek where a small log cabin sat nestled in the woods.
It looked like a postcard picture for a vacation home. A homemade wreath hung on the front door, and colorful flowers swayed in the flowerbeds flanking the rocking chair front porch.
“You’re happy here, aren’t you?” he asked.
Mia angled her head toward him from the top of the steps. “I love it. It’s small but homey and . . . it’s mine.”
He gave a clipped nod, hating again that he was going to destroy her sense of peace.
She opened the door and ushered him in, then offered coffee. He accepted, stalling the inevitable. She handed him a ceramic hand painted mug that looked as if it had come from one of the reservations nearby.
“If I remember, you take it black,” she said softly.
“You have a good memory.”
“Some things are hard to forget,” she said, a wave of sadness washing over her face. Other emotions flickered there, too, ones he didn’t recognize and didn’t want to explore.
