On the Corner of Heartache and Hopeful--MIC (11 page)

And here’s an excerpt from my sexy contemporary romance,
BATTLE-BORN LOVE; available now through Amazon.com.
http://amzn.com/B007GGKK1U
 

BATTLE-BORN LOVE

by
Lynda Bailey

Chapter One

Rory Dawson
charged through the door ready for a fight.

Too bad the only
person in the tiny office was Eldon James, the fifty-year-old Paiute Indian who
was as much a part of Dawson Repo as the battered tow truck parked outside.

Eldon looked up
from his scarred desk, concern on his face. “I take it things didn’t go well in
court.”

Rory stomped to
the other desk as best she could in the low heeled sandals that pinched her
feet to a smaller size. She plopped into the swivel chair with the torn vinyl
and pulled off the torturous foot garb. Shedding her panty hose and denim skirt
also held great appeal, but she figured waltzing around in her skivvies at
eleven in the morning, even with the late March temperature nearing an
unseasonable ninety degrees, probably wasn’t a good idea. She leaned her head
against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.

God, she hated her
life.

Seconds later, Eldon’s
chair creaked then her desk moaned as he perched on the edge. “Wanna talk?”

No, she didn’t
want to talk. Tears burned her eyes, but she battled them away. Breaking down
wouldn’t help anything. The silence stretched out long and thin.

“How much to bail
him out this time?”

God bless Eldon
and his ability to cut to the meat of a matter. She forced herself to meet his
gaze. “Ten grand.”

He shook his head
with a heavy sigh. “Guess that Reno judge isn’t gonna give him any leeway this
time, huh?”

“Not in the
least.” She rubbed at the ache spanning her forehead. “With all his priors, we
should be grateful his case didn’t get booted up to Federal Court.”

“How’d he look?”

“Pale. Scared.
Old.”

“Where you gonna
get that kind of money?”

Biting her lower
lip to stop any trembling, Rory lifted her shoulders in a short, helpless
shrug.

“I’ve got a couple
thousand you can borrow.”

She snapped
upright in her chair. “I’m not borrowing money from you. You and Ellie just
bought that house. Your money needs to go to curtains or landscaping or
whatever else Ellie thinks of. Besides, I sign your paycheck. If you’ve got
that much money, I must be paying you too much.”

Eldon grinned, his
teeth a brilliant white against his dark skin. “We both know that ain’t the
case.”

She forced her
mouth into a pitiful semblance of a grin. “Then no more talk about borrowing
money. He’s my old man. I’ll take care of business. Somehow.” She straightened
her shoulders, shoving her helplessness aside. “Is the ‘Vette outside the one
we got the repo order on yesterday?”

“Yep. Parked
pretty as you please at the mall.”

“Keys?”

Eldon shook his
head and headed for the back door. “Maybe I can jimmy the lock.”

“No doubt it’s an
electronic system.”

“I’ll try anyway.”
He paused in the doorway to look at her. “You should go home, boss. You look
beat.”

Left alone, Rory
lost the battle to keep her head up. Fatigue crumbled her forward until her
desk became a pillow.

She looked beat
because she
was
beat. She wished she’d been smart enough to remember a
change of clothes before going to court. A worn pair of jeans, an old T-shirt
and ratty tennis shoes would make her feel better, physically at least.

In a burst of
determination, she sat up and reached for her Rolodex. Maybe she could borrow
Pop’s bail money. Her heart wailed at each blank card she turned.  

Ten thousand
dollars!

Where in the world
would she get that kind of money?

Jail time might do
him good, she thought bitterly. Prove to him that his actions had consequences.
She barked a laugh. The hollow sound echoed off the bare walls. Right.
Consequences.
For her.

Rory pressed the
heels of her hands to her temples. The headache she’d picked up after her
father had gotten arrested three days ago threatened to leak out her ears.

She couldn’t leave
Pop in jail. She’d taken care of him ever since turning thirteen, when her mom
split. She couldn’t stop now. No matter what, he was family.

The only family
she had left.

She stood, hoping
Eldon had aspirin in his desk, when the door burst open.

And into her office
strode a commanding masculine presence.

He wore authority
better than his charcoal gray, tailored suit. Tattered jeans and a tank top
would be a better fit with his bronze complexion and sun-streaked brown hair
which brushes the top of his suit collar.

Recognizing the
controlled look of indignation, the tight-fisted stance, she pulled back her
shoulders. No longer a distraught daughter, she was now a businesswoman.

She dealt daily
with people enraged that their property had been repossessed, through no fault
of their own, of course. Pricey suit or not, she knew exactly who she was
dealing with. Still, when his acorn brown eyes honed in on her, she was glad
she wore her best, if only, skirt.

“Who’s in charge
here?”

His demanding tone
failed to intimidate her. But a hot shiver of anticipation did skate down her
spine at his silky baritone voice. She curved her lips into a smile. “How can I
help you?”

“You can help,” he
enunciated each syllable as though she were a child, “by telling me where your
boss is.”

Her smile
vanished. What a patronizing, chauvinistic jerk. Before she could set this guy
straight, Eldon came through the back door and the stranger shifted his
attention to him.

“Are you in charge
here?”

When Eldon shook
his head, Mr. Personality drew a hand down his face with a long-suffering sigh.
“Could one of you please tell me who is in charge here?”

Eldon hiked his
thumb in her direction. “She is.”