Lassoed. B.J. Daniels
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Lassoed
BJ Daniels
MILLS & BOON
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The one thing no one told me was how many good
writer friends I would make on this journey.
This one is for Amanda Stevens, who is always there
when I need her. I should add, she is also the scariest
person I know and if you don’t believe it, wait until
you read her new Graveyard series.
Chapter One
The lights came out of the darkness like an oasis in the desert. Billie Rae glanced at the gas gauge on the old pickup, then in her rearview mirror.
She hadn’t seen a vehicle behind her for miles now, but she didn’t slow down, didn’t dare. The pickup engine roared loudly, the speedometer clocked at over a hundred, but it was the gas gauge that had her worried.
She was almost out of fuel. Which meant she was also out of luck.
At the speed she was traveling, the lights ahead were coming up fast. At first she thought it was a small town. She hadn’t seen one for more than fifty miles. But as she sped toward the glittering lights, she realized it wasn’t a town. It appeared to be a fairgrounds aglow with lights.
Suddenly fireworks shot up from the horizon, bursting in the huge ebony sky stretched over this vast Montana prairie. She stared in surprise, realizing with a start what day it was. July 2. Two days away from the Fourth. She let the pickup slow to eighty as the booming fireworks burst around her, momentarily blinding her. The engine coughed. She glanced at the gas gauge. The pickup was running on fumes.
In her headlights she caught sight of the sign to the Whitehorse fairgrounds and another sign that announced Rodeo July 2–4. As the pickup engine coughed again, Billie Rae knew she’d just run out of options as well as gas.
She turned onto the dirt road that had a handmade sign that read Rodeo Parking and let the pickup coast in past dozens of trucks and horse trailers parked in the field around the rodeo arena. Just as the engine died, she pulled the truck into a spot between two pickups and turned off the headlights.
The highway she’d just come down had been nothing but blackness in her rearview mirror. Now, though, she wasn’t surprised to see a set of headlights in the far distance. She’d known she didn’t have much of a head start. Just as she’d known nothing short of dying would keep him from coming after her.
Billie Rae sat for a moment fighting tears. Her chest ached from the sudden loss of hope. Without gas she wasn’t going any farther—as if she really believed she could ever go far enough to get away from Duane. She slumped over the steering wheel.
She’d left the house with only the clothes on her back, and now it was just a matter of minutes before he found her. Duane was no fool. He’d know the pickup would be running low on gas by now and that she hadn’t stopped to fill it up since she had no money. She’d had to leave her purse behind—not that there was any money in it, thanks to Duane. He had kept her a virtual prisoner since their wedding six months ago.
None of that mattered now, though. She should never have run. Duane was right. There was no getting away from him. He’d get a good laugh out of her thinking she could. Hadn’t he said he would follow her to the ends of the earth?
But it was what else he’d said when she’d told him she wanted out of the marriage that made her now begin to tremble in the dark cab of the pickup.
He had grabbed her by the throat and thrown her down on the bed. “You ever leave me and I will hunt you down like a mad dog and hurt you in ways you can’t even imagine.”
Her heart began to pound now with both fear and outrage. Duane had been so sweet, so loving, so caring before the wedding. Her mother had just died and she’d needed someone strong to lean on. Duane had provided the broad shoulder. He’d helped her through a tough time.
And then she’d made the mistake of marrying him. It wasn’t that he’d suddenly changed. It was that once he put that ring on her finger, he’d finally revealed who he really was—a bully, a bastard, a batterer.
Her hands were shaking as she let go of the steering wheel. Her fingers ached from gripping it so tightly. Was she just going to sit here and wait for him to find her? He’d done his best to beat her down, but there was still a little fight left in her. She’d left him, hadn’t she? That proved she had more courage than she’d thought and certainly more than Duane had thought.
She wasn’t going back. Nor was she going to let Duane kill her. She had been a young, foolish, enamored woman when she’d married him, but once she’d seen behind the mask to the monster, there was no going back after that. She wasn’t one of those women who thought their husbands would change. Or that it was her fault when her husband took out his bad moods on her.
But there was no denying she was in trouble.
Opening the door, Billie Rae climbed out of the pickup, surprised how weak her knees felt. Between booms of fireworks she heard a vehicle slowing on the highway before the small community fairgrounds. She didn’t dare look and what was the point? She knew who it was.
She quickly worked her way through the pickups and horse trailers, following the sound of the oohs and ahs of the audience in the stands as the fireworks continued to explode over her head. The fireworks were going off closer together. One huge boom rattled in her chest after another. Soon the crowd would be dispersing and leaving.
She felt all her bravado leave as well. Soon everyone would be gone. Maybe she could find a place to hide where Duane wouldn’t … Who was she kidding? Duane was going to find her, and when he did …
Glancing back through the parked vehicles, she caught a glimpse of a large black car driving slowly into the lot. Duane. He’d find the old classic Chevy pickup that had been his father’s pride and joy. He’d find her.
She raced behind the grandstand in blind panic, knowing what he would do when he found her. She shouldn’t have tried to leave him. She should have waited until she had a plan. But when Duane had come home earlier and she’d seen the rage building in him, she’d known how the evening would end and she couldn’t let him hurt her again.
Billie Rae ran, blinded by tears and terror. If she could reach the stands, maybe she could disappear into the crowd—at least temporarily. Eventually, though, the stands would clear out and all that would be left would be her—and Duane.
As she came around the end of the grandstand, she collided with a tall cowboy. She’d been running for her life, glancing back over her shoulder and not looking where she was going, so she was hit hard, with her breath knocked out of her and her feet out from under her. If he hadn’t caught her, she would have fallen to the ground.
“Easy,”