Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1)
Read Bound to the Past (Starville Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Lauryn Michaels
BOUND
TO THE PAST
LAURYN MICHAELS
BOUND TO THE PAST
Copyright© 2014 Lauryn Michaels
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical or other means, not known of hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the authorʼs imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Edited by Amy Knupp
Cover by Specially Designed
Excerpt from “Through the Rise & the Fall” - Copyright© 2014 Lauryn Michaels
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademarked owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Harley-Davidson.
Dedication
To my mom, who's taught me to chase my dreams,
and my husband, who's showed me how to do it.
I love you.
Table of Contents
Excerpt from “Through the Rise & the Fall” (Book #2 of the Starville Series)
Chapter 1
Dalton pulled his gun out and held it up with both hands as he crept along the wall. He didn’t stop until he reached a massive wooden door and knew he had found it―heʼd found the place where Charlotte was being kept. Drawing a deep breath, he shoved the door open with a powerful kick…
Sara Milano groaned, quickly deleting everything she had just typed. There was a hint of wicked satisfaction on her face once she finished and raised her eyes back to the clean page, as though to admire her work. Not that there was much to admire, she thought grimly, rolling her head around to loosen her stiff neck before leaning back in the chair. Then she waited.
And waited.
An exasperated sigh blew out of her mouth, but she shot a challenging look at the screen. She could do this. She
had
to do this. She would not fail again. All she needed was to stay focused. Straightening, Sara blew back a long strand of black hair that had escaped from her ponytail and started typing again.
Dalton pulled his gun out and held it up with both hands as he crept along the wall, until he reached a massive wooden door. He inhaled sharply, trying to keep calm. This had to be the place where Charlotte was being kept. Drawing another deep breath, he shoved the door open with a powerful kick…
“Ugh, this is awful!” Sara frenetically hit the Delete button again, until all that was left on the screen was a blank page and the cursor blinking at her. Laughing at her as the minutes dragged on, marked by the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall behind her and the impatient tapping of her fingers against the wooden desk.
“Why did you let me send this horror to my agent without making me revise it first, Lance? You should know better than that!”
The small white dog lying on the colorful rug at her feet raised his head to shoot her a brief, indignant look. Yawning, he stretched his front legs and trotted out of the room, his quick footsteps pattering on the hardwood floor in the hallway.
“Traitor.” Sara shook her head with a chuckle, but her smile died the instant her eyes set on the empty bowl sitting beside the computer. Man, she really needed to find time to go grocery shopping. Or she should at least train Lance to buy ice cream for her, she thought absently, her fingers already back on the keyboard.
But then, there it was again: the darn accusing cursor. Sara glowered at it for a couple of minutes, biting her thumbnail. It was at times like this that she wished she could call one of her friends and just chitchat for a while. Unfortunately, Brent and Nicky were still at work, Angie was currently living in England, and Carson had probably gone to sleep hours ago, being a rancher and all. Which was a problem, considering that they were the only ones who knew about her secret job as a novelist.
Fresh air
. She needed fresh air.
Digging her cell phone out from under a gigantic pile of papers on her desk, Sara shut down the computer and stepped out of the den, her mind set on taking Lance for a long walk.
Unfortunately, her perfectly constructed plan had two major flaws: one, she lived in Starville, Texas; two, it was June. The dark realization came to her the instant she opened the front door and a wall of hot, muggy air hit her face, stealing her breath as if sheʼd just opened the door of a three-hundred-degree oven.
If she wanted fresh air in Texas, sheʼd have to wait patiently until the winter. Or she could drive around in her air-conditioned car for a bit.
Hmm
. Actually, that might not be a bad idea—better than sitting at her desk staring at a blank page, anyway. Maybe she would even stop by Mrs. Primsʼs shop and get some chocolate ice cream.
With renewed enthusiasm, Sara grabbed her car keys from the coffee table in the living room and dashed out of the house.
***
After driving for a couple of miles, Sara took a right turn to enter a tree-lined country road. It was narrow, poorly paved, and a little bumpy, but it was a familiar shortcut she used often to get quickly into town. In fact, after living in big cities for so many years, sheʼd grown to appreciate its quiet isolation…until she heard a loud pop and felt a jerking from the steering wheel.
“Oh, no. No, no, no!” …Not a flat tire! Not this late at night, and not on such a remote road! Before she finished that thought, the car started to swerve and thump.
Great
. Just great. Sara had no choice but to pull off on the side of the road and get out of the car to assess the situation. Yep, it was definitely a flat tire.
A grunt slipped from her lips. For a moment, she debated calling her friend Brent for help but pushed that thought away. He had better things to do than rushing to her help every time she was in trouble. Besides, it was time she learned to do things by herself. Changing a tire couldnʼt be too hard, right? If other people did it, so could she. She only hoped the dull light from the few working street lamps would be enough for her to see, because the last thing she needed was to have to hold a flashlight while attempting to change her first tire.
Sara had just opened the trunk and grabbed the jack when she heard the loud rumble of an engine. She turned around with a relieved smile―but it faded as soon as she saw the huge, dark motorcycle approaching. She didnʼt know anyone who owned one like that in Starville.
“Awesome,” she mumbled. The only person coming by had to be a complete stranger. Her heart immediately sped at the implications of that thought. It was late at night, the road was dark, and she was about to be all alone with a stranger.
Whatever, silly.
This was Starville. People here knew and helped each other. Yet she couldnʼt help sucking in a harsh breath as the motorcycle slowed down. If anything, she was still holding the jack. Probably not the most perfect weapon, but itʼd sure come in handy if this guy was coming with the wrong idea in mind.
“Need help?” the strangerʼs deep voice asked curtly as he killed the engine.
Squinting her eyes to focus them in the dim light, Sara swallowed hard. Screw the help; she could change the darn tire herself. “No, thank you. Iʼm sure I can”—the man slid off the bike and walked toward her—“manage,” she finished in a gasp as he stepped into the light.
He was a stranger, all right. Probably the most dangerous-looking one sheʼd ever seen. He was tall.
Very
tall. So much so that she had to tilt her head all the way back to look at his face, seeing as he towered over her five four by nearly a foot. Everything about him was dark, from the jeans he was wearing to the charcoal T-shirt and black leather jacket. Even his short hair and the faint stubble on his jaw were dark―not to mention his expression. But his eyes…
Holy crap!
They had to be the only bright thing about him. In fact, sheʼd never seen such a startling, intense shade of green before. And never had she thought that so much pain could be contained in a single pair of eyes. They looked…lost. Tormented.
Sara took a deep breath. She could have sworn this man had leaped straight out of one of her novels. Which wasnʼt necessarily a good thing.
Without a word, her dark knight walked to the car and crouched in front of the tire. Sara forced herself out of her stunned stupor. “I, uh, have a flat.”
Duh.
He turned his head and gave her a long, piercing stare that made her squirm with unease. Then he stood, took off his leather jacket, and tossed it carelessly at the bike. “Got a spare?”
“I think itʼs in the trunk. But, look, you donʼt have to help…” Too late. He was already removing the spare tire and tools from the trunk.
Oookay
. Sara stepped closer and passed him the jack, her nerves so tense that she almost dropped it in the process. “Thank you so much. I was going to change it myself, but I’ve never done it before, and thereʼs no telling how long it would have taken,” she said, trying to make conversation. For no reason, apparently, since he flat-out ignored her.
She watched him as he jacked up the car, fascinated by the play of muscles rippling in his arms and down his back.
Oh, boy
. She cleared her throat. “Iʼve never seen you ʼround here before. Are you new in town?”
His eyes darted to hers as he removed the flat tire and set it aside. “Kinda.”
Kinda?
Sara frowned. While he did speak with a slight drawl, it wasnʼt pronounced enough to determine whether it might be from Texas. Not to mention he spoke too little. “Are you going to stay in Starville for a while?”
“Not sure yet.”
Hmm. Maybe he was on a business trip? Sara glanced at his motorcycle, then back at him. He definitely didnʼt strike her as a businessman. Perhaps he was here to visit a friend? Or a girlfriend? Her frown deepened as she tried to picture him with someone she knew in town. “My name is Sara, by the way. Sara Milano. I live a couple of miles from here.”
He shot her another brief look, then stood all of a sudden. Sara stared at him but didnʼt realize heʼd finished changing the tire until he placed the tools and the flat back into the trunk. He closed it with a slam and turned around, wiping his hands on the legs of his jeans. Her gaze followed the action in a daze. “I, um, have wipes in my purse, if you want.”
