Chapter 1

VOLUME ONE: RUSTLERS AND ROMANCE

Lauren McCray's nose exploded with a walloping pain that radiated upward. The room faded away in slow, loopy waves as she spun around. She yelped as her swollen, bloody cheeks met the hard, cold tile floor. Fear manifested itself in the form of violent shaking and rolled over every inch of her body. She lay unmoving in a fetal position to protect herself from further blows to her already beaten body.

Her throat burned with agony and her neck throbbed where Clint had tried to strangle her. Her vision blurred, and her stomach churned. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she gasped for air. Her bruised ribs assaulted her with every attempted breath.

Lauren reached one trembling hand to her face, touching the place where his meaty fists turned into lethal weapons and hit her as if she were his personal punching bag. She drew her hand away and stared at the blood.

She swore this would be the last time, if she lived through it. No, this won't be like the last time on my twenty-eighth birthday. This was it, she vowed.

His heavy breathing thundered close by. He wasn't finished with her. Bracing for more pummeling, she tried opening her eyes to see him, but they were already swollen into mere slits.

"Get up, you bitch!" Clint Jackson bellowed as he moved closer and kicked her in her aching ribs. "Get up, I said. I swear I'll kill you."

"Please don't hit me again, Clint. I'll do anything you want. Just please don't hit me again," Lauren whispered through shaky lips while cringing away from him. Salty tears and metallic blood ran down her bruised cheeks, meeting the red drool trickling from her torn lips.

He slammed his cruel, angry fist on the table, knocking over their glasses of wine. The last thing she heard before darkness came to save her from that horrible night was the wine dripping from the table edge, splattering onto the floor.

****

Ten days later

Lauren pulled into Rosie's Diner. It seemed like a fifties-esque truck stop sort of place in the middle of nowhere, but at least she was far away from Michigan. She'd stopped for a bite to eat, then realized she didn't have any money. She sat in her car and searched for a new credit card. She'd maxed out the other cards on motels and gas, and now her growling stomach demanded sustenance.

While she rifled through her purse one more time, looking for anything of monetary value, she didn't see her cell phone. She closed her eyes to remember where she saw it last. In her hurry to pack up and get out when she ran, she'd left her cell phone on its charger. She'd been in a delirious rush of escape and healing. She hadn't thought of it till now. She needed to find a phone to call her parentsno easy task in a world nearly devoid of the ancient payphone. Shaking her head at her stupidity, she supposed she might have to depend on the kindness of strangers.

Her face and neck still carried the bruises, bitter reminders of Clint, but at least her body no longer ached with every move. Thank God he hadn't broken her arm. Her wrist was just sprained, as were her ribs. Her jaw would heal and didn't need surgery or to be wired shutthis time.

She got out of the car and walked toward the door. As she neared the entrance, she noticed a "Help Wanted" sign in the window. Perfect! Exactly what she needed.

Squaring her shoulders, she walked a few steps to the entrance door and pulled it open with confidence. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the scent of French fries assailed her nostrils as her ears rang with a cacophony of sounds. Layered voices, laughter, and silverware tinkled and echoed in the background. She watched waitresses take orders as well as deliver food while she looked around for someone to ask about the job. A young woman, carrying a tray full of items and wearing an apron with Rosie's Diner printed on it, stopped in front of her.

"Go ahead and sit where'd you like, hun, and I'll be right with you."

Lauren touched the waitress's arm as she popped her gum and started to turn away. "I'd like to speak with the manager, if I could." Lauren rushed on when she didn't respond. "It's about the 'Help Wanted' sign."

The waitress looked around and then nodded toward the cash register. "That's her right over there. Susan Willard." Lauren turned in that direction and saw a woman who sported a nametag like a medal.

"Thank you," Lauren said and moved to stand in line with the patrons waiting to pay.

When her turn in line came around, she stepped forward. "Hello, I'm here about the job you have available."

"Hey, sweetie, you from around here?" The middle-aged woman wore her graying blonde hair pulled back in some kind of bun, and her navy-blue apron had Rosie's Diner printed in bright-pink letters on the front.

"No, I'm, uhwell, I'm just passing through, but I need to make some money. II really need this job." Lauren looked into the woman's soft, blue eyesthe kind that bore into a person's souland hoped she'd hidden the desperation and tiredness in her voice.

"You have any experience?" The manager tilted her head sideways and studied her face while she waited for an answer.

A flush crept up Lauren's neck and over the bruises she'd covered the best she could with liquid foundation. "I waited tables in college a few years back." Without any cash, she didn't know what she'd do if the woman didn't hire her.

"You on your own?" Susan looked around if someone was with her, then turned her attention back to Lauren. "You have a place to stay?"

"No, but I'll find somewhere as soon as I have a job and some money," she answered, her voice still a little hoarse from Clint's abusive strangle hold days ago.

"Okay, girl. Well, the hours are long and the pay's short, but if you're willin', I'll give you a try."

"Thank you so much!" Lauren felt as if she'd just won the lottery. She exhaled, her heart jumping in her chest. "I'll make sure you're not sorry. I'm a real hard worker. You won't be sorry and"

Susan held her hands up. "You'll do fine. I'm not worried a bit. Now, about a place to stay, there's an extra room upstairs. It's not fancy, mind you, but it has a comfortable bed and a shower. You're welcome to use it as long as you need. I've been trusting my instincts about people for a long time and you seem like a good person at heart."

"You're so kind. Thank you. I'll be happy to pay some room and board out of my wages." Dumbfounded by the stranger's kindness and generosity, she wanted to hug the woman for her offer.

"Don't you worry about it. When can you start?"

"How soon do you need me?"

"How 'bout right now? We're gettin' ready for the evening rush and could really use an extra pair of hands," the manager said, gathering up extra menus and stacking them beside the cash register.

"Now would be just fine. Where can I freshen up?" she asked.

"We try to keep it simple here." She handed her a navy-blue apron while accepting a serving check and credit card from a customer on the way out the door.

Susan ran the credit card through the machine and, when the cash register opened, wiped her hands on her apron and took out a key. "Why don't you go on upstairs and wash up. Here's the key." She waved at a couple coming in the door as they found seats in a booth. She nodded and said, "I'll be right here when you get back."

Lauren glanced at the busy restaurant and turned to go. She trembled inside at the prospect of a new job, getting to know the location of everything and getting to it quickly. She had to make this job work. She had no other choice.