Connecting Strangers (Discovering Emily) Read online

  Other Independently Published Books

  by Rachel Carrington

  Paranormal Romance

  Vampire Cursed

  Vampire Forgotten

  Vampire Betrayed

  Vampire’s Fury

  Vampires Destined (a box set)

  Souls Divided

  Spirit Series Prequel

  Share Our Souls

  The Spirit Series Book 1

  Fantasy Romance

  The First Spell

  Hot Magic Series Prequel

  Romantic Suspense

  Extreme Measures

  Sweet Poison

  Mixed Genre

  Waking Up Immortal (sci-fi/fantasy)

  Connecting Strangers

  Discovering Emily Series

  Book 1

  Copyright ©2014 Rachel Carrington

  Cover illustration copyright © 2014 Elaina Lee/For the Muse Designs

  Printed and bound in the United States of America. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher. For information, please contact Rachel Carrington (www.rachelcarrington.com

  ).

  All characters in this work are purely fictional and have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  ISBN: 978-0-9903042-9-6

  PUBLISHED BY RACHEL CARRINGTON

  Dedication

  To my friend, fellow author, and mentor, Lisa Renee Jones. You started me on this independent journey two years ago, and I’m so glad you didn’t give up on me until I listened.

  Your friendship is my saving grace. Your guidance and encouragement is a light that shows me the way to numerous possibilities in this publishing world. And your career achievements bring joy to my heart while your belief in me is a never-ending comfort.

  I love you, and I will always treasure you as a friend.

  Chapter One

  I close my eyes and slowly squeeze the trigger. The shot sounds so loud I jump backwards. But the bullet hits its mark, tearing a hole through Mark's shoulder. With a curse, he falls to the ground. I know I haven't killed him because he's making so much noise and trying to scramble to his feet. So I snag the keys from the hook by the back door and run.

  He'll come after me which means I don’t have much time to get a head start. The mud tries to suck my shoes off, but I clench my toes while Mark’s promise bounces around inside my head.

  You’ll always be mine.

  At the time, I thought it was romantic, but I was only eighteen. What the hell did I know? It didn’t take me long to learn it meant Mark doesn't take no for an answer. In high school, his determination was a compliment. Nowadays, it would get him arrested...if we didn't live in a town that worshipped him.

  Shaking so hard, I have a hard time jabbing the key in the ignition. Relief floods through me when I can finally start the 2000 Volvo my grandmother got me when I graduated from high school seven years ago.

  As I gun the engine, I see Mark's reflection in my rearview mirror. He's made it to his feet, and though blood is dripping down the front of his shirt, he’s running after me.

  The Volvo kicks up plenty of dust and gravel when I stomp on the accelerator, showering Mark with enough pebbles to bring him to a halt. His loud curses follow me down the old, dirt road where our clapboard home sits. It’s the one his daddy built us once he knew Mark wouldn’t be leaving town anytime soon.

  Staying in rural Broomtown, Kentucky definitely hadn't been my choice. That had been all Mark. After my parents died, I wanted to get as far away as possible to start our lives fresh, but Mark, well, he figured since he was going to be trapped in a dead end job once his dreams of playing football were over, he might as well do it around family.

  I keep looking in my mirror to make sure he isn't following me, and I don't dare relax until I make it to the highway. Even then, the trembling continues.

  Ten miles down the road, I realize I left my purse on the kitchen counter, and I have no money and less than a half a tank of gas. In a car that chugs gas like this one, that isn’t going to get me very far. But anywhere is better than Broomtown with Mark.

  A tear trickles down my cheek, and I swipe it away. No more tears. I have cried enough for him. When I was still young and foolish, I thought Mark and I would be together forever. I know now that forever can be a hell of a long time when the love of your life morphs into a raving lunatic.

  My heart aches when I think about what we had once. We were the love story everyone dreams about. Me, the head cheerleader, and Mark, the captain of the football team. I still remember the night the Broomtown Broncs won the state championship. No one thought a team from the sticks could win such an important title. Mark had carried me on his shoulder through the cheers and the drums. Then he had to go and do something stupid for a senior prank that changed everything.

  I switch on the radio to drown out the memories, but they've always been louder. The thump of the wheels hitting pavement releases some of the pressure in my chest, and my shoulders begin to relax. I might not be free of Mark forever, but tonight I wouldn't have to listen to his drunken complaints.

  The Volvo's lone headlight illuminates the long, winding road ahead then bounces off the side of a white car heading in the opposite direction. I wish I could stop the person, warn them where there going. That road dead-ends in Broomtown. Hopefully, the driver doesn’t have plans to stay long. It’s the kind of place that sucks you in and while you’re there, it drains your soul a little piece at a time until you’re moving in slow motion. Just putting one foot in front of the other.

  My hands smell like gun powder, and though I wipe them one at a time on my jeans, the smell won’t go away. I still see the blood, too, even though none of it got on me. There’d been a lot of it. If I hadn’t seen Mark get up and walk with my own two eyes, I would be worried I’d killed him.

  As much as I want to get away from him, I couldn’t kill him. It’s certainly not that I love him anymore, but taking a human life just isn’t in me. Hell, taking any life. Mark and his best friend always made fun of me when I wanted to set the mice free from the traps rather than kill them. Mark had better be glad that’s the type of person I am.

  Static replaces the low, monotonous voice of the town’s only radio broadcaster. I switch off the sound, and a flash of blue catches my eye in the rearview. I lift my gaze, and my stomach sinks. A cop is behind me, and the blue lights insist I pull over.

  Dammit. With one hand, I direct the car over to the side of the road while I reach for my purse that isn't on the passenger seat where I always drop it. Then I remember I left the house without anything but my clothes and keys. Double damn.

  I hear the squawk of the cop's radio as he approaches the side of my car. His long, black flashlight taps against the driver's window, and I sigh, knowing the only way out of this is to tell the truth...well, some of it anyway.

  Blinking rapidly against the glare of the light, I press the button to lower my window. My gaze tilts upwards and connects with hazel eyes. A sinfully handsome face causes my breath to stall in my chest. The man standing outside the window of my Volvo is a cop, and I should give him the proper respect, but finding my voice proves impossible.

  The darkn
ess doesn't allow me much of a view, but it's enough to make my nerves dance. I glance at his full lips and realize they're moving. He's talking to me, and I blink several times in an attempt to regroup. My hand fumbles on the seat next to me.

  "I-I'm sorry, Officer. I left my purse at home. I do have a driver's license and insurance, but I was in a hurry. I didn't even think about it, honestly." I babble on for a few more seconds until the cop interrupts in deep, throaty bass.

  "Have you been drinking?" He shines the flashlight into the interior, and the beam slides over my denim-clad legs before sliding up my thin t-shirt. I hadn’t had the time to grab a coat, and as cold as it is outside, it’s no wonder my outfit looks suspicious. His gaze pierces mine again while he waits for my answer.

  I attempt to swallow, but the lump in my throat is the victor. "No, I haven't." But I don't blame him for asking.

  "Would you step out of the car, please?" He opens the door and takes a step back to give me room.

  Trembling, I follow his command, closing the door behind me so I can lean against the coldness of the steel. A gust of frigid wind lifts the hair off the nape of my neck, and the trembles segue to shivers.

  The officer drags his gaze back to the interior of my car before fixing it on me again. He’s staring at me, and I don’t like it. I’ve had just about enough of men treating me like I’m a piece of meat. Of course, now isn’t the time to get defensive. Instead, I return his stare, but I have to look up, way up, to face him. "Do you mind telling me why you stopped me?" I silently congratulate myself on the composed question.

  He juts his chin toward the front of the Volvo. "You have a headlight out."

  If only he could see how relieved I am…Something as simple as a headlight, I can deal with. "Oh, that. Yes, I know. I've been meaning to fix it, but it just keeps slipping my mind. I'm sorry." I lift my shoulders in an apologetic manner, but the stern look on the cop's face remains.

  "What's your name?" The look on his face dares me to lie.

  "Emily. Emily Murdoch." I accept the challenge by using my mother’s maiden name which is also my middle name.

  "Where do you live, Miss Murdoch?"

  Shit. I don’t want him to know any more about me than he already does. Living in Broomtown has taught me that cops cannot be trusted. As gorgeous as this one is, I still won’t let my guard down. I paste an easygoing smile on my face and lie again. "Juniper Springs."

  His eyebrows lift, and my heart pounds. Did I say something wrong? Can he tell I'm lying now? "Really?"

  I stick to my story, replying with only a stiff nod.

  "You mind if I take a look inside your car?"

  “Not at all.” I move away from the door and wave my hand as though granting entrance to my minions. What else am I supposed to do? If I said no, he’d have come up with a reason to arrest me. That’s what all cops do.

  His concludes his search quickly and straightens to face me. "It's too dangerous to be driving these dark roads with only one headlight, Miss Murdoch. I suggest you get it fixed first thing tomorrow morning and stop driving without your license." He switches off the flashlight. "Drive safely."

  I watch him walk away while my legs threaten to collapse. Once back inside my car, I take in great gulps of air and lean my head back against the rest. But something tells me I shouldn't be relieved. The cop bought my story too easily. Which probably means he didn't just find me by accident.

  A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Mark is already on the hunt.

  Several miles ahead, I see the small sign welcoming me to Juniper Springs, Kentucky. Easily four times the size of Broomtown, if not a bit bigger, it would provide me a place to lay low for a few days even if I have to stay in my car. My gaze drifts to the gas gauge as a reminder. Unfortunately, this was the only town I could venture to with the needle edging so close to empty.

  I see the lights illuminating a sign for Baby's Diner and take the exit. I think I have enough change in the console for a cup of coffee. My system needs the bright lights and the caffeine. If nothing else, it would give me a chance to clear my head.

  The bell over the door tinkles when I walk in, but no one takes notice of me. That makes my shoulders relax. In Broomtown, everyone would have looked. I slide into a cracked booth and pull the menu up in front of my face.

  “Hi, honey, what can I get you?”

  The throaty voice startles me, and I shrink back in the booth before looking up. The waitress, a curvy woman with bright red curls, freckles, and chocolate brown eyes, stares back at me.

  “Easy, gal. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She removes a pen from the front pocket of her stained apron and hovers it over a thin pad. “What can I get for you?”

  “C-coffee.” I find my voice, but I’m unable to hide the tremor.

  “Cream and sugar?” The waitress looks sympathetic, like she suspects I’d rather be anywhere but here.

  I nod and return my attention to the menu. I don’t have the money to order anything, but she doesn’t know that.

  “I’m taking my break, Art!”

  The shout accompanies the thunk of a mug on the table in front of me. I lower the menu to see the waitress sliding into the booth seat across from me, her face one big smile.

  “Can I help you?” My voice is a little more normal this time.

  “Sure. You can pretend we know each other so Art won’t think I’m harassing one of our customers.” She beams back at me and fills the coffee mug from the carafe in her hand. “Name’s Francine. Art’s my brother, but since Daddy gave him the diner, that technically makes him my boss. I just don’t let him think I believe that for a second.” She props her elbows on the table, and the dimples on either side of her mouth crease.

  I don’t know what to say to her. The last thing I need is company. Or attention. But I don’t know how to make her go away without sounding rude. “I’m Emily.” I could give her that much. After all, there isn’t a lot she can do with just my first name.

  “Well, Emily, what brings you to Juniper Springs?” Francine waves a hand in front of her face. “I know you don’t belong here because I know our regulars. Very few new people pop in here nowadays, what with the economy and all. I think it might have something to do with Art’s cooking, too.” She smirks. “And this town ain’t exactly the tourist capital of the world.”

  “I’m just passing through.” My neck starts to prickle like a heat rash. “I won’t be here long.”

  Francine places her hand atop the menu so I can’t raise it again. “I don’t mean to be getting into your business and all, but you look completely worn out. And hungry. Can I get you some pancakes or something?”

  My stomach rumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since lunch. I’d been in too much of a hurry, trying to get gone before Mark got home. If only I’d left an hour earlier, I’d be much more prepared, but I had no way of knowing he’d come home early from work. Regardless, I can’t tell this stranger anything other than the basics. With no money, I’m out of options.

  She slides out of the booth, and just when I think she’s going to leave me in peace, she returns with a plate of pancakes, eggs, and hashbrowns which she sets in from of me. “I’m entitled to a meal here, but I never eat it. So this one’s on the house.”

  My gaze goes from the plate to her face. Why was she being so nice to me? She didn’t know me. I don’t know her. So what is her end game? My eyes narrow, but my hunger gets the best of me. My stomach protests its lack of food, loud enough for Francine to hear. Heat rushes up my neck, and I pick up the fork. “Thanks.”

  The bench creaks a little when she slides in this time. “So where you heading next?”

  My mouth full of eggs, I lift my shoulders in a careless shrug.

  “You in any hurry to get anywhere?”

  I take a sip of the freshly-brewed coffee and wait for the needed rush of caffeine. “I haven’t really thought much about it.” A shadow moves by the door, and I straighten, keeping watch. Just like i
t did when I came in, the bell over the glass door jingles, and for a moment, the full moon is eclipsed by familiar, tall, male beauty.

  The room shrinks, and my head isn't the only one that turns in his direction. Broad-shouldered and muscled, the man fills out the brown uniform. Some women behind me sigh. A couple giggle behind their menus. I can't take my eyes off of him. We’ve seen each other once before, but the night sky didn’t do him justice. I've never seen someone so...perfect.

  Out of all the women in the room, he zeroes in on me. I know it’s because he realizes I lied to him. But he's not looking at me like he cares that I didn’t tell the truth. He saunters toward me, long legs and hips made for a woman's hands. I could picture linking my fingers into his belt loops and pulling him closer.

  A trickle of sweat winds its way between my breasts, and though my temperature has risen at least five degrees, I take another swig of my coffee. I need to give my hands something to do besides shake.

  Francine snickers. “Yeah, he’s a looker, isn’t he?” She lowers her voice. “That’s our sheriff. Ain’t a woman in this county that isn’t interested in him.”

  Except for me. I wasn’t interested. I couldn’t be. I tilt my head upwards just as he reaches my table. Our eyes connect, and the heat in the small diner intensifies.

  “Well, howdy, Adam. You’re in late.”

  “I took the late shift. Mind if I join you?”

  “Don’t mind at all. I gotta get back to work anyway.” Francine slides out of the booth, winks in my direction, and sidles away but not before looking back over her shoulder several times.

  “Miss Murdoch, is it?” He takes a seat opposite me and waves two fingers toward the counter. “I believe you were saying something about living here.”

  Oh, hell. My throat closes up a little, but I’ve been backed into corners before. He’s not the first animal to put me there. Probably won’t be the last. I come back at him with a bright smile and just the right amount of acid in my voice. “I didn’t think it was really any of your business where I lived.”