Rocky Mountain Revenge

  To survive her deadly homecoming

  she’ll need to trust a man from her past...

  Temporarily home to help at her family’s vet clinic, Grace Porter has no intentions of staying—but someone’s determined she won’t live long enough to leave. With both Grace and her sister in the crosshairs, her ex-boyfriend, Police Chief Evan Bradshaw, must protect them. But can the single dad lawman uncover the truth about why a killer’s out for vengeance before time runs out?

  “He’s trying to make us crash.” Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, Evan spared a brief glance at Grace. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. But how are we going to stop him?” She looked over her shoulder and then back to him again. “Can I hold the steering wheel, and you shoot his tires or something?”

  “Don’t do anything reckless,” Ingalls yelled across the speakers. “We’ve notified the sheriff’s office, and I’m on my way.” The call went silent.

  Evan sped up, putting a little distance between him and the truck, but the other driver soon closed the gap, ramming into them again. This time the impact shattered the back window, but Evan had been able to hold the Jeep steady without skidding.

  Evan raced away again, driving dangerously fast on the wet road. His headlights flashed on a bright yellow diamond-shaped road sign, and an eerie, sinking feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed the truck was still barreling down on them—and they were fast approaching the Hangman’s Noose curve.

  Rhonda Starnes is a middle school language arts teacher who has dreamed of being a published author since she was in seventh grade. She lives in North Alabama with her husband, whom she lovingly refers to as Mountain Man. They enjoy traveling and spending time with their children and grandchildren. Rhonda writes romantic suspense with rugged heroes and feisty heroines.

  Books by Rhonda Starnes

  Love Inspired Suspense

  Rocky Mountain Revenge

  Rocky Mountain Revenge

  Rhonda Starnes

  And be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, even as God for Christ’s sake hath forgiven you.

  —Ephesians 4:32

  For my husband, Coy, who told me to stop talking about “one day” and either write a book or shut up. You have always been my biggest cheerleader, and I would not have achieved this dream without you. Thank you for being my happily-ever-after.

  For my children and grandchildren. You are my greatest blessings. I love you forever!

  For my dad, I’m so thankful you and Mom raised me to work hard and never give up. My biggest regret is not chasing this dream sooner, so Mom would have been here to celebrate.

  Also, special thanks to:

  My editor, Tina James, for making my dream of being a Love Inspired Suspense author come true and for helping me teach my students that hard work pays off.

  Connie Queen, for asking me if I wanted to be critique partners six years ago. What a journey it has been. We made it!

  Tina Radcliffe, for your guidance and wisdom and for encouraging me when I grew weary.

  My writing sisters and critique partners, for your encouragement, support and prayers.

  My family, friends and students for cheering me on.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt from Explosive Situation by Terri Reed

  ONE

  Grace Porter regretted she hadn’t stopped for fuel before leaving Denver two hours ago, when it was still daylight. If she had, she wouldn’t be at a run-down gas station that looked like it belonged in a low-budget horror movie. A dim yellow light flickered overhead and made a strange buzzing sound. The attendant, a tall, gaunt man with oily brown hair, stood behind the counter and stared at her through the window, reminding her of Norman Bates.

  At least the two pumps had been updated to the pay-at-the-pump variety, so she wouldn’t have to go inside.

  She pulled the nozzle out of the car’s gas tank, settled it back on its cradle and drummed her fingers on the side of her red Honda CRV as she waited for the receipt to print. Though she wasn’t typically scared of shadows in the dark, the overcast night sky obscured the moon and stars, providing little visibility outside the immediate rim of the artificial light from the gas station awning. A light breeze made the already cool late-May night air even colder, sending a shiver up her arms.

  Why was she feeling uneasy? She’d filled up her car at this very station numerous times when she was younger, often late at night when heading home from a friend’s house. Had living in Denver the past eight years made her dependent on streetlights on every corner for a sense of security?

  Hopefully, she would only be in Blackberry Falls for a couple of months then she could return to her life in Denver. In the meantime, she would provide emotional support to her sister, Chloe, as she finalized her divorce. She would also have to focus on hiring someone to replace James, her soon-to-be ex-brother-in-law, as the veterinarian at the animal clinic she and Chloe had inherited two years ago.

  Grace had never wanted to be a small-town veterinarian, but here she was about to temporarily take over the reins of the clinic her father had built. Something he’d always wanted but she’d always tried to avoid.

  Chloe couldn’t be expected to continue working with James until a replacement could be found. It had been difficult enough for her sister to continue going to work as the clinic’s office manager the past few months while Grace worked out the details of her leave of absence from the animal hospital in Denver where she worked as a veterinary cardiologist.

  Grace didn’t understand her sister’s emotional attachment to their hometown and would have suggested Chloe walk away and start fresh in a new city if she thought her words would have been welcomed.

  She startled at the sudden blare of music emanating from her vehicle. Chloe’s ringtone. Grace tore off the receipt, shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans and slid behind the steering wheel. Grabbing her phone off the dashboard, she slid a finger across the screen, silencing Sister Sledge in the middle of “We Are Family.” Her sister’s face filled the screen.

  “Chloe. Why are you FaceTiming? What if I were driving?”

  Chloe’s blue eyes sparkled. “I checked the app and saw that you had stopped for gas.”

  “Then you also saw I’m only ten minutes away.” Grace smiled.

  “I know, but I got held up at the clinic and just arrived home.”

  Chloe had always hated going into an empty house by herself after dark. When she couldn’t avoid doing that, she would call Grace to video chat as she entered the house, claiming it made her feel less alone. Her theory was that Grace could call 9-1-1 if there was an intruder.

  This was getting out of hand. Maybe, while Grace was back in Blackberry Falls, she could finally get Chloe to install an alarm system and sign up for self-defense classes.

  Grace sighed. “Okay. But be fast.”

  Chloe exited her vehicle. “Man, it’s dark out here tonight. Good thing you gave me this flashlight key chain
for Christmas last year. It’s the only reason I haven’t tripped and busted my face.”

  Her sister never would have stayed out late on such a dark night if she could have helped it. “What kept you at the clinic so late?”

  “We can discuss that after you get here. Oh, but I do need to tell you, I received another letter from Benjamin Hamilton wanting to purchase the farm.”

  The farm was eighty acres of prime pastureland and the two-story farmhouse they had lived in growing up. It had sat empty since their father died, until Chloe moved back in several months ago. Grace had no need of the property and planned to sign over her share to Chloe once her divorce was finalized.

  “Didn’t you tell him you plan to live there permanently?”

  “I did. His recent letter lists all the reasons I shouldn’t live out here alone.” Keys jingled. “Hang on a second while I open the door.”

  The screen went black. “Chloe, I can’t see you. The screen says ‘Poor Connection.’”

  A thud boomed across the line, and her sister’s scream split the air. “No! No-o-o!”

  Grace’s heart pounded. The video reconnected, but the ceiling had replaced her sister’s image.

  “Chloe. Are you okay? What’s happening?” Grace yelled into the phone.

  Had Chloe’s Great Dane, Barkley, knocked her down?

  “Chloe! Answer me. Right now.”

  The sound of a struggle and furniture being knocked over echoed in the background. “Okay, I’m calling nine-one-one.”

  A person wearing a full-face novelty ski mask that resembled a black bear stared into the phone. Brown eyes glared at her, assessing.

  An involuntary gasp escaped Grace’s lips as she covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

  “Go ahead. It’ll be too late by the time they get here.” He laughed and the screen went blank.

  Pressing the call button on the steering wheel, she put the vehicle into gear and sped out of the parking lot.

  “Nine-one-one. What’s your emergency?”

  “My sister.” Grace took the curve at Newfound Gap fast. Too fast. Except right now there was no such thing as too fast. “Chloe Osborne, 1362 Monteagle Lane. Someone broke in. I heard a struggle and a scream. There’s a masked man, and the phone went blank.”

  “There’s an intruder?”

  Wasn’t that what she’d said? Grace bit back angry words and fought to stay calm. “Yes—1362 Monteagle Lane.”

  The dispatcher repeated the address. Then, “What is your name?”

  What did that matter? Why weren’t they sending a troop of police cars, lights flashing and sirens screaming, to Chloe’s house?

  The nearest neighbors are a half mile away. There’s no one to hear my sister’s cries for help.

  “Ma’am, your name?”

  “Grace. Dr. Grace Porter. Chloe’s my sister. Why aren’t you sending help?”

  “Help is on the way.”

  The dispatcher’s calm voice infuriated Grace. Chloe’s life was in danger! How could she be so absolutely nonchalant?

  She’s supposed to be calm. That’s why she’s got this job. Breathe. Think. Pray.

  But she couldn’t breathe. Not normally. Or think. The only thing she could envision was Chloe’s worst nightmare coming true. Being on the phone with Grace hadn’t stopped it from happening.

  Disconnecting the call, she pressed harder on the accelerator.

  Please, Lord, let help arrive in time.

  She turned onto the road that led to her childhood home and pulled up to the edge of the property, cutting the engine. Even from this distance, she could see the front door was open. Lights spilled out from the downstairs windows.

  Now what? There was no sign of the police yet.

  She couldn’t sit there. Her sister might be injured. Or worse—dead.

  What could she use as a weapon?

  Digging through the glove compartment, she found a flashlight, an ice scraper and the vehicle owner’s manual.

  Ugh, what else do I have?

  She felt under the passenger seat. An umbrella. Success!

  Thankful for the cover of darkness, she sprinted across the lawn. Reaching the corner of the two-story farmhouse, she inched along the side, stopping at every window to peek and listen.

  A whimpering growl sounded. She pressed her face against the cool glass of the window. Barkley, locked in a bedroom, clawed at the door. Desperate to save his owner. Grace’s veterinarian heart bled for him, but she couldn’t offer comforting words for fear he’d reveal her presence.

  She reached the porch and climbed. One. Step. At. A. Time.

  Muffled voices reached her. Chloe’s and a man’s. Deep and guttural.

  Umbrella at the ready, she entered the house and stopped short. Chloe, her back to the stairs, was struggling with her attacker on the second-floor landing.

  The faint sound of a siren pierced the night.

  Thank you, Lord.

  The masked man met her eyes above Chloe’s head, and for a split second, she wondered if she’d spoken the words out loud.

  Inching closer to the stairs, Grace battled the desire to race up to them. If she distracted her sister from her mission of survival, it could be catastrophic. Chloe must have sensed her presence because she glanced over her shoulder. That was all the edge the attacker needed.

  He pushed Chloe, and her body bent backward over the railing. She had one hand gripping the wood rail, the other grasping his mask.

  Grace charged. Before she made it even midway up the curved staircase, her sister flew through the air.

  “Chloe!”

  She landed on the foyer floor in a heap, a ski mask in her outstretched hand.

  Grace rushed down. Footsteps pounded on the stairs right behind her. She looked over her shoulder. A man in his midforties, with collar-length brown hair and a scruffy beard sprinkled with gray, smirked at her.

  She raised the umbrella to ward off an attack. The man ducked and head-butted her in the side, sending her tumbling down the last four steps.

  Pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, she pressed a hand against the wall, struggling to stand.

  The man snickered as he planted his booted foot on her back and pushed her flat to the floor. “You’re next, Amazing Grace.”

  She froze. Amazing Grace. She hadn’t heard that name in two years, not since her father died. How did he know Dad’s nickname for her?

  Sirens grew louder as red-and-blue strobe lights bounced across the walls. The man sprinted out of sight. Seconds later, she heard the kitchen door, leading into the backyard, bang closed.

  Grasping the newel post, she pulled herself to her feet and raced to Chloe, who lay crumpled on her side like a discarded rag doll. A pool of blood seeped out from under her head.

  Chloe’s breathing was shallow. Grace bent and checked for a pulse. Weak. Placing her hands on either side of Chloe’s neck, she pressed in gently with her fingers and ran them up the length of the neck to the base of the head. It did not appear to be broken. Carefully, tilting her sister’s head, Grace examined the wound. A bump had already appeared, in the center of which was a gash about two inches long. It didn’t seem very deep, but would require stitches.

  Grabbing a chunky, knit cardigan off the hook near the door, she knelt beside her sister and applied pressure to the wound. “Hang in there, sis. Help is on the way.”

  Childhood memories swarmed her as Dad’s constant reminder echoed in her mind. Amazing Grace, as the big sister, it’s your job to take care of Chloe.

  Footsteps sounded on the porch. An officer entered the house, gun at the ready. “Are there more intruders?”

  Her head snapped in his direction. Hazel eyes pierced hers. Grace’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected him to respond.

  * * *

  “Grace. H
ow many intruders?” Chief Evan Bradshaw’s question came out harsher than he intended, but he needed to assess the situation and was barely holding himself back from rushing to her side.

  She shook her head. “Only one. He went out the back.”

  “We saw him. Johnson took off after him.” Evan holstered his weapon. “How badly is she hurt?”

  “Head wound. Her pulse is weak. Possible internal injuries. Won’t know for sure until she has some scans.” Grace’s voice cracked, and he knew she was struggling to keep her composure.

  “Where’s the ambulance?” Desperation echoed in her voice. Blue eyes pleaded with him, tears pooling.

  Evan clenched his hands at his sides, fighting the urge to pull her into a hug, the way he would have when they were younger.

  Instead, he knelt beside her, taking a quick assessment. Grace held a cloth of some sort against Chloe’s head. There was a lot of blood, but he knew that wasn’t uncommon for head wounds. “She’ll be okay, Gracie. I promise.”

  Now, why had he said that? Who was he to make promises? He’d learned a long time ago he couldn’t stop death. Losing his unborn daughter and his wife three months apart had taught him that.

  Chloe’s pale face stood out in stark contrast against the bloodstained rug. He watched for the rise and fall of her chest, as he had his now six-year-old son, Camden, when he was an infant. Chloe’s breathing was almost imperceptible, but it was steady.

  “What’s taking the ambulance so long?” Grace wiped her face, silent tears flowing freely now. “I can’t lose her.”

  From the moment they’d met in sixth grade until high school graduation, Evan and Grace had been inseparable. During that time, he had only seen her cry twice. The first time in seventh grade when her cat, Mitzi, died. The second, the summer before their sophomore year of high school when her mom died from cancer. Her crying now meant she’d started to lose hope that Chloe would survive.

  He needed to keep Grace busy so her mind didn’t wander down the what-if trail. “Go find a blanket. We need to keep her warm until the ambulance arrives.”