Linda Miller - Forever A Hero

The recollection made her want to curl into a fetal ball, but the medication and the IV needle lodged in her arm rendered any such movement impossible. Too much effort.

Another memory flooded her mind, soothed her. Mace had been with her that other time, too. He’d accompanied her to the hospital, holding her hand. He’d told her everything would be all right, that she was safe now, that nobody was going to hurt her. He’d promised to be there when the police came to question her, and he was as good as his word when she was discharged the following morning. He’d driven her to the police station, sat with her while two SVU detectives questioned her about the events of the night before, when, walking to her dorm, she’d been assaulted and nearly raped.

Mace, a student at the same California college, had heard the scuffle, hauled the man off Kelly and restrained him until the police arrived.

How could Mace have forgotten all that? Perhaps he made a habit of saving people. Did it happen so often that one incident blended into the next until it was all a blur?

She giggled at the thought.

Tomorrow, or maybe the next day, she would see Mace again. If he still didn’t recall their first meeting, she’d just have to refresh his memory, though that wasn’t her first priority.

She’d come to Mustang Creek to do business with the man, after all, not to renew their old—and brief—acquaintance. Great Grapes International, the company she worked for, wanted to establish a partnership with Mountain Winery, something they’d done successfully with other vintners.

Big of them, Kelly thought. As far as she could tell, the board members had zero doubt that everything would go their way; their confidence bordered on outright arrogance, in her opinion. She didn’t know much about Mace Carson as a person, after one dramatic encounter and a few brief meetings during her attacker’s trial, but recent online research had filled in a lot of gaps.

Carson wasn’t likely to be swayed by the money GGI was prepared to offer, as the Carsons were among the wealthiest families in Wyoming. Mace’s company appeared to be a labor of love, rather than a source of income; the winery was debt-free, and the net profits went to various charities.

Kelly had explained these things to upper management, of course, or tried to, anyway. And she had gotten exactly nowhere.

Failure wasn’t an option, her boss, Dina, had informed her cheerfully. If GGI had a motto, it would be Rah-rah-rah.

Thinking about it, Kelly sighed. She knew the power of a positive mind-set, especially after years of company-sponsored “you can do this!” seminars, ranging from standard motivational talks and “trust exercises,” like depending on someone to catch her when she fell backward, to trekking barefoot over beds of red-hot coals.

She’d done all those things and, yes, it was true—the experience of walking on burning embers did cast a new light on what was possible.

It was also true, however, that no amount of positivity or fearlessness or persistence was going to sway someone who didn’t want to be swayed. Mace Carson, she was all but certain, fell into this category. He liked his independence far too much...

Kelly was in over her head this time, and she knew it, but she had too much riding on this deal to give up without even trying. She was up for a promotion of life-changing proportions, with some heavy-duty perks, such as profit sharing and stock options, access to company jets, opportunities to work overseas, six-figure bonuses and more than double her present salary.

The equation was a simple one: no deal, no promotion.

Lasso the moon, or crash and burn.

Bruised and scraped, dazed by pain meds and good old-fashioned exhaustion now that the adrenaline rush had subsided, Kelly closed her eyes. Sighed again.

She could worry, or she could sleep.

She chose the latter.

CHAPTER TWO

WHEN KELLY OPENED her eyes again, morning was in full swing, and bright sunshine had replaced yesterday’s rain. She took a few minutes to orient herself—she was in a hospital room in Mustang Creek, Wyoming. There were three other beds, all empty.

She performed a brief mental scan of her body.

A mild headache.

A few aches and pains.

In other words, nothing major.

A nurse’s aide appeared, carrying a breakfast tray and sporting a cheery smile. Her name tag read Millie.

“If I were you,” Millie began, deftly maneuvering the bed table into place and setting down the tray, “I’d go out and buy myself a lottery ticket. Considering what could have happened, you’re a lucky woman.”

Kelly smiled. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

“How do you feel?” Millie asked, lifting a metal lid to reveal a plate of runny scrambled eggs, limp toast and two strips of transparent bacon.

“Much better,” Kelly answered, eyeing her breakfast with a wariness she hoped wasn’t too obvious. Until about five seconds ago, she’d been hungry.

Millie chuckled, evidently the perceptive type. “First we patch people up,” she joked, “and then we confront them with hospital food. Ironic, isn’t it?”

Kelly grinned, picked up a slice of toast and nibbled at the edge. Her headache was already beginning to subside; this woman’s mere presence was a tonic. “I don’t suppose you know when I’ll be discharged?” she ventured.

Millie sighed, though her smile didn’t waver. She removed the plastic lid covering a cup of coffee. “Can’t say,” she replied. “The doctors are making their morning rounds, though, and I’m sure one of them will have an answer.”

With that, she headed for the door, nearly colliding with a tall, dark-haired man in jeans, a long-sleeve white shirt, boots—and a badge. He smiled down at Millie, took off his hat and stepped aside to let her pass before entering the room.

“Ms. Wright?” he asked.

Kelly nodded, set down her coffee cup.

“My name’s Spence Hogan,” the man said, “and I’m the chief of police. Mind if I come in?”

Kelly was only half kidding when she answered. “Not at all. Unless you’re here to arrest me for leaving the scene of an accident, that is.”

His smile was the kind that probably caused a seismic shift every time it flashed across that tanned, rugged face. “You’re in the clear, Ms. Wright,” he said, crossing the room to stand a few feet from her bedside. “I’m here to take a statement, that’s all. And, unfortunately, to tell you that your rental car is a total loss.”

“I figured it would be,” Kelly said, wondering why he’d come to the hospital personally rather than sending a deputy or someone from the office.

Clearly, he’d guessed what she was thinking, because there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. “I came by to look in on a friend who’s recovering from an emergency appendectomy. It made sense to kill two birds with one stone, so to speak, and pay you a visit, too.”

“Oh,” Kelly said.

He took a smartphone from his shirt pocket and tapped an icon. “I just need a few details about what happened,” he told her. His voice, deep and laconic, reminded her of Mace’s, a fact that both jangled and soothed her nerves. His eyes were clear and direct as he met her gaze. “First, though, I have some news. The rental car people have been notified, and they’re sending a replacement from Jackson. Should be here by the end of the day.”

“That’s good.” Kelly hesitated, almost afraid to ask. “My things—my handbag and laptop and suitcases—were any of them recovered?”

“The purse and the laptop came through all right—evidently, they were thrown from the car while it was rolling down the hill, because my deputy found them on the bank.” Spence Hogan paused, winced humorously. “I’m afraid everything else went up in smoke when the rig exploded.”