B.J. Daniels - Shotgun Bride

Maddie shivered, realising they were trapped.

“He’s after me. He knows I went into the woods. He knows I saw.”

Shane nodded and pulled her into his arms again.

“The sheriff will find him.”

Her limbs trembled. She couldn’t remember ever feeling this weak and exhausted or this relieved to see anyone. She leaned into him, feeling his warmth and his strength.

Shane was here to rescue her. That’s what a true lawman did .

All he’d ever wanted was to protect her. But she’d been so certain she could take care of herself – that she had no other choice. Now her eyes burned with tears and it took all of her strength not to cry.

But before she could take another breath, she heard the roar of an engine and a bullet whizzed through the air next to them…

By

www.millsandboon.co.uk

BJ DANIELSwrote her first book after a career as an award-winning newspaper journalist and author of thirtyseven published short stories. That first book, Odd Man Out, received a 4 1/2 star review from Romantic Times BOOKreviews magazine and went on to be nominated for Best Intrigue for that year. Since then she has won numerous awards, including a career achievement award for romantic suspense and many nominations and awards for best book.

Daniels lives in Montana with her husband, Parker, and two springer spaniels, Spot and Jem. When she isn’t writing, she snowboards, camps, boats and plays tennis. Daniels is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Sisters in Crime, Thriller Writers, Kiss of Death and Romance Writers of America.

To contact her, write to BJ Daniels, PO Box 1173, Malta, MT 59538, USA or e-mail her at bjdaniels@mtintouch. net. Check out her website, www.bjdaniels.com.

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Available in July 2010 from Mills & Boon® Intrigue

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Shotgun Bride

by BJ Daniels

This book is dedicated to the readers who love the

fictional town of Whitehorse, Montana, and its residents

as much as I do. Say hello to the Corbett family.

Jerilyn Larch froze, one foot on the floor.

From the sagging motel bed, Earl Ray Pitts mumbled something, let out a snort and resumed snoring loudly.

Jerilyn released the breath she’d been holding and slipped out of the bed, knowing she’d called this one a little too close.

Gingerly she picked up each piece of her clothing from the grimy carpet and tiptoed into the bathroom to get dressed.

Jerilyn Larch hadn’t just fallen on hard times. She’d hit rock bottom. While the Larch name had once meant something in this part of Arizona, it wasn’t worth squat anymore.

The land was gone and so was the money. Worse, as her mother would have said, Jerilyn had hooked up with the wrong sort. She needed to get out of this ratty motel—out of this town—as quickly as possible and put some miles between her and the man still in the lumpy double bed.

Dressed, she peered out of the bathroom. Only a little of the gray dawn leaked through the cheap drapes. Earl Ray was still sleeping or at least pretending to. She could never tell for sure with him. The man had a mean streak that she knew all too well. He’d told her often enough that he’d kill her if she ever left him—or at least make her wish she was dead.

For days she’d been looking for a chance to escape.

She glanced around for his keys and caught sight of herself in the filmed-over mirror by the door, shocked by what she saw: a woman who looked much older than forty-two, a woman with nothing to lose. Jerilyn silently made a promise to herself. Her life was going to get better, starting today.

Spying the keys on the bureau, she carefully picked them up and hesitated for a moment before she scooped up Earl Ray’s wallet.

Slipping out, she hustled to his Buick parked in front of the room. The car was old, the rear panels rusted, a real embarrassment. She wished that if she had to borrow a car, she could at least get one that was worth a damn. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and she had the keys to this one.

Jerilyn climbed behind the wheel and made a quick check of the wallet. Earl Ray didn’t have enough money to get her far. She tossed the wallet on the seat and felt herself panic as she considered what her options were with little money, a car that probably wouldn’t get her past town and nowhere to run.

Earl Ray would be furious. He was mean enough, but taking his money and his car and then leaving him high and dry in some tiny sand-blown desert town would push him over the edge. As if he needed a nudge.

As she sat there, a realization began to set in. Once she started this car and made a run for it, she’d have to look out for herself. And that frightened her almost more than Earl Ray did.

Jerilyn had always latched on to a man and let him make all the decisions for her. Earl Ray was a bastard, but maybe being on her own was worse. She glanced toward the motel room, wondering if she could slip back inside without him noticing she’d ever left.

As if in answer, the door banged open, and Earl Ray staggered out looking like this side of hell. The look on his face when he spotted her sitting behind the wheel of his car told her there would be no turning back.

Jerilyn stabbed the key into the ignition and cranked up the engine. The radio blasted on, drowning out whatever he was yelling.

Throwing the car into Reverse, she hit the gas as he lunged for the Buick. He fell face-first onto the gravel as she sped backward, nearly taking out a palm tree.

Slamming the car into Drive, she barely missed Earl Ray as she took off, tires spitting gravel as the vehicle fishtailed.

At the street, she stopped, opened the window and, after snatching out the cash, tossed his wallet in the dirt.

She might have hit bottom, but Jerilyn Larch was no thief. The three hundred and seventy-eight dollars she’d taken was money earned from putting up with him.

As for the car, well, she’d call him once this was over and let him know where to find it—no doubt abandoned beside some road where the engine had quit for good.

In her rearview mirror, she could see that Earl Ray was up on his feet and stumbling after her. Jerilyn hit the gas and didn’t look back again. She knew he couldn’t call the police to report the car stolen, not in his line of work as a thug between illegal crime jobs.

Maybe he wouldn’t even come after her. Maybe all those threats had been nothing but bluster. Either way, she’d have to move quickly, staying one step ahead of him until she could escape the country.

She would ditch the car once she reached Mon-tana—if the car made it that far. Otherwise, she’d hitchhike. It wouldn’t be the first time. She just hoped it would be the last.