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  COWBOY TOUGH

  She turned in her seat to face him. “If it hadn’t been for you I don’t know what I would’ve done. I probably would’ve gone crazy.”

  “Nah, you’re a fighter and Corbin, he’s a coward.” A dead coward if Jace ever got his hands on him. Okay, Jace wouldn’t really kill him but he’d like to make him suffer.

  He leaned across the cab and kissed her. Just a sweet peck on the cheek, but Charlie turned and took his lips, cupping the back of his head with her hands to kiss him deeper.

  Jace reacted and kissed her back. Long, slow, and thoroughly. When she didn’t resist, he kept going.

  She tipped her head back against the seat and he went in for more, drunk on the taste of her. Her hands came around his neck and he pressed her deeper into the seat, bruising her lips with his, winding his hands through her hair. Kissing her into tomorrow.

  He shouldn’t have. It was wrong on about a thousand levels.

  Yet, he couldn’t seem to stop himself. She felt so good—curvy and warm and feminine—and responsive, returning his kisses with equal passion. He could make her feel good too. Take the hurt away if she’d let him...

  Books by Stacy Finz

  The Nugget Series

  GOING HOME

  FINDING HOPE

  SECOND CHANCES

  STARTING OVER

  GETTING LUCKY

  BORROWING TROUBLE

  HEATING UP

  RIDING HIGH

  FALLING HARD

  HOPE FOR CHRISTMAS

  TEMPTING FATE

  The Garner Brothers

  NEED YOU

  WANT YOU

  LOVE YOU

  Dry Creek Ranch

  COWBOY UP

  COWBOY TOUGH

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Table of Contents

  COWBOY TOUGH

  Books by Stacy Finz

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue

  Cowboy Tough

  Stacy Finz

  LYRICAL SHINE

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  LYRICAL SHINE BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2020 by Stacy Finz

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, educational, or institutional use.

  Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Sales Manager: Kensington Publishing Corp., 119 West 40th Street, New York, NY 10018. Attn. Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.

  Lyrical Shine and Lyrical Shine logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  First Electronic Edition: February 2020

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0926-5 (ebook)

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0926-0 (ebook)

  First Print Edition: February 2020

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0927-2

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0927-9

  Printed in the United States of America

  Chapter 1

  Jace Dalton pulled to the side of the road, rubbed the bristle on his chin and tried to remember whether he’d shaved that morning.

  It had been that kind of day.

  He checked the clock on his console. Five. Not so late. Then again he’d been up since dawn.

  He let out a loud yawn, exited his vehicle and crossed the two-lane road, one hand lazily resting on the butt of his service weapon. He stuffed the other in the pocket of his down jacket.

  There was a CR-V parked on the wooded shoulder, perilously close to the road. In less than an hour it would be dark and a motorist coming around the bend might not see the SUV in time. From a distance, the vehicle appeared vacant, though it was hard to tell.

  The nearest services were a good five miles away and Highway 49 was three in the other direction. He hadn’t seen anyone hiking along the roadside, at least not in the direction he’d come from.

  As he got closer, he walked around the hood of the car to get out of the line of traffic and peered through the fogged windshield. The driver seat was in a reclining position. Something resembling a bundle of clothes lay on it. He blew out a breath that turned white in the cold and tapped on the passenger window.

  The bundle moved, and his hand reflexively gripped his gun tighter.

  “Unroll the window, please. And put your hands on the steering wheel where I can see them.”

  The window came down and a pair of brown eyes stared back at him. That was all Jace could see because the person was covered in a hooded coat and wrapped in a blanket.

  He leaned in the window and scanned the back seat and the trunk area, which was packed with suitcases, clothes, cartons, and overstuffed garbage bags. It looked like someone’s entire apartment.

  How long the vehicle had been on the shoulder like that was anybody’s guess.

  “You can’t park here,” he said. “There’s a campground six miles down the road, a motel off the highway, or a shelter in Nevada City.”

  California’s homeless problem had spread from the big cities to the state’s rural areas. While Dry Creek hadn’t attracted too many vagrants, its neighboring towns had seen an influx. Jace didn’t know why they came here. In late January, the Sierra Foothills weren’t a particularly hospitable place for someone living out of a car or on the streets. Temperatures dipped into the twenties. And just up the road, where the elevation reached 2,500 feet, they got snow.

  “Okay, I’ll go.” The voice was barely audible but distinctly female.

  He took a few steps back and when the woman made no move to leave, he leveled his gaze at her. He’d meant what he’d said. She couldn’t stay here. He was about to give her directions to the shelter but noticed she was clutching her stomach.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  She nodded.

  “Ma’am?”

  “I’ll leave now.” Her eyes welled as she reached for the ignition.

  Jace couldn’t let her get on the road if there was something truly wrong. He hadn’t smelled alcohol on her breath or seen any signs of drug use. But clearly there was a pro
blem.

  “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the car.”

  She doubled over. “I…don’t…think…I…can.”

  He reached in the window, opened the door, and tried to lean across the passenger seat. A pile of clutter was in the way. “What can I do to help you?”

  She didn’t answer, just continued to grip her midsection. He spotted an open box of saltine crackers on the floor and a bottle of carbonated water. Maybe she had a stomach flu.

  “Is there someone I can call?” he asked, hoping there was someone local.

  “No.” She wrapped the blanket tighter around her and tried to sit up straight and adjust herself in the seat. “I’ll be okay…just need a few seconds.”

  That’s when he saw the blood. A small pool had settled in the seam of her seat. He’d missed it before when the folds of her wool coat had draped over the chair.

  “Ma’am, you’re bleeding.”

  She whimpered. “I think I’m having a miscarriage.”

  He dragged his palms down his legs and observed her for a few seconds, trying to assess what to do next.

  As a patrol cop he’d helped deliver a baby in the back of a pickup once. He’d also seen his fair share of gunshot and knife wounds. Auto wreck injuries were his bread and butter. But never a miscarriage. Not ever.

  He crouched down. “When did the bleeding start?”

  “I’m not sure.” She grimaced. “The cramping about thirty minutes ago, that’s when I pulled over.”

  The closest hospital was twenty minutes away in Auburn, only a little bit farther than the nearest firehouse. He could get her to the emergency room faster than waiting for an ambulance and didn’t think moving her himself was any more dangerous than leaving her by the side of the road until the paramedics could come.

  “I’ll take you to urgent care, okay?”

  “No,” she protested. “There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  Her reaction seemed odd to him. Shouldn’t she want help? He couldn’t force her to go, but he couldn’t leave her here like this, either.

  “Maybe there is,” he said. “Maybe they can save the baby.”

  She darted a glance at him, her eyes shining, and he saw it. Hope.

  “Okay.” She started to open her door but he stopped her.

  “Let me come around in case of cars.” Even while he’d been focused on her, a few trucks had whizzed by. Besides the campground, there were more than a dozen homes off the windy road.

  “My SUV,” she said suddenly. “I can’t leave it here. Everything I own is in it.”

  “I’ll get one of my deputies to park it at the station.”

  She shook her head. “No! I’ll drive myself.”

  There was no way she could drive in her current condition.

  He walked around the front of the CR-V, took her key from the console, locked the door, and hid the fob in the dirt. “It’ll be safe, I promise.” He scooped her out of the vehicle before she could object and found her purse next to the box of saltines.

  She started to struggle, gasped, and clutched her stomach again.

  “Put your hands around my neck,” he said. She wasn’t much heavier than his fourteen-year-old, but he wanted to give her something to hold on to.

  Her hands were ice-cold, and he made sure to secure the blanket around her as he settled her into his front seat. “I’ll get the heater going.”

  Her eyes were closed but she wasn’t asleep, just checked out.

  “You with me?”

  She nodded but he was starting to worry. He got on the road, called the hospital to let them know he was coming, and flicked on his light bar. He left the siren off because he didn’t want to scare her.

  The second call was to dispatch a deputy to fetch her car. Then to Mrs. Jamison. He briefly explained the situation and asked her to drop the boys at Cash and Aubrey’s house. His cousin and his cousin’s fiancée lived on the ranch, just a short walk from Jace’s. If they weren’t home, his other cousin, Sawyer, would be.

  “You have children?” she asked when he got off the phone.

  “Two boys. Travis is fourteen and Grady’s nine.” He glanced over at her. Her eyes were still closed and her arms were wrapped around her middle like she was literally trying to hold herself together.

  “That’s nice,” she said, slowly rocking back and forth.

  “We’ll be there soon. Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?” Her husband? A relative?

  She jerked and her hand clenched the edge of the blanket. “I’m sure.”

  “All right.” If she was homeless, Jace suspected she had no one to call. The world was filled with tragedy. In his line of work, he saw it every day. Still, to be alone like that… “What’s your name? I’m Jace. Jace Dalton.”

  She didn’t answer, and to Jace it seemed like she was somewhere else entirely. Lost in the physical pain and the emotional anguish of knowing she was likely losing her child.

  Jace drove in silence, leaving the woman alone with her thoughts. He was out of his depth on what to say anyway and hoped that his quiet presence gave her at least a small measure of comfort.

  By the time he pulled up to the emergency room, the sky had turned dark and moody. When he opened his door a gust of wind hit him and the air smelled pungent. The forecast predicted showers, but it felt more like a storm.

  An orderly met them at the ramp with a wheelchair and Cash lifted her out of the passenger seat. A rust stain now covered the part of the blanket that had been tucked under her bottom. She was still bleeding.

  “My purse!” She snapped out of her trance and held her hand to her chest. “Oh God, I left it in my car.”

  Jace registered that she was wearing a diamond wedding ring and filed the information away for later.

  “I got it. It’s right here.” He dug the handbag off the floor of his back seat and placed it in her lap, noting that, like the ring, the purse looked expensive.

  They went inside, where she was quickly whisked away.

  “Evening, Sheriff.” The desk clerk waved.

  “Evening, Kay.” Other than a woman with a small child, the waiting room was nearly empty. The hospital served three counties and there were times when the emergency room’s small lobby was standing room only. “Slow night, huh?”

  “It’s still early.” She motioned behind her where the exam rooms were separated by a wall. “You waiting, or do you want us to call someone?”

  “Nah, I’ll hang out for a while.” Jace didn’t know if they’d keep her overnight. He supposed if they released her he could always have a deputy shuttle her to her car. But he didn’t feel right about leaving her alone.

  There was a hat rack by the double glass doors and he hung his Stetson, then took a chair near the television, where he scrolled through his phone. Cash had texted that he and Aubrey had the boys. His family was good that way. As the Mill County sheriff, his schedule was often unpredictable.

  About fifty minutes later a pregnant couple came through the door. Jace overheard the man tell Kay that his wife was cramping, which turned his thoughts back to the woman. He still didn’t know her name.

  He wasn’t so sure anymore that she was homeless. The handbag and the plaid pattern of the blanket reminded him of a designer brand that Mary Ann used to go nuts about and cost roughly a month of his sheriff’s salary. Then there was the wedding ring. He didn’t know how he’d missed that the first time.

  No, not homeless.

  A more likely scenario was that she was moving, which would explain the cartons and clothing. The Honda had California plates, but he didn’t recognize her being from around here. Then again, her face had been mostly obscured by her hood.

  Jace found the TV remote and flicked on the news. The pregnant couple had been escorted to one of the exam rooms, leaving only hi
m and the lady with the child in the waiting room. He glanced over at her to make sure she wasn’t bothered by the sound of the television. She smiled, fluffed her hair, and tried to strike up a conversation, when one of the emergency room docs came through a pair of swinging doors.

  “Sheriff.” He nodded at Jace and motioned for him to follow him back to where the exam rooms were.

  They went inside a small office with white walls and generic pictures of Gold Country. The doctor shut the door. Jace took a seat and the doctor wheeled a stool to the countertop desk.

  “You know anything about the patient you brought in?”

  Jace had seen the doctor a few times before. Unfortunately, as a cop and a father of two young, rambunctious boys, he was more familiar with the ER than he wanted to be. Still, he didn’t remember the doc’s name and had to look at the tag on his white lab coat.

  “Nope. I found her in her vehicle on Lakewood Road. She okay?”

  “She suffered a second-trimester miscarriage, which isn’t all that common. But not unheard of. There’s no indication of an infection. We’re running tests for chromosomal abnormalities, but my suspicion is trauma. A beating, to be precise.” He paused and locked eyes with Jace to see if he understood.

  “She was assaulted?” Jace didn’t know why it surprised him. He’d been in law enforcement more than a decade. Still, there hadn’t been any bruises Jace could see, just the blood from the miscarriage.

  The doctor shifted in his chair. “There are physical signs of injuries consistent with abuse. Her back is black and blue with contusions and she has a hematoma on her left leg, as if someone pummeled or kicked her repeatedly. And her demeanor…She doesn’t want us to call anyone, refuses to give us access to her medical history, and won’t supply us with a home address.”

  “What about medical insurance?”

  “She claims she doesn’t have any.”

  That, in and of itself, wasn’t hard evidence. A lot of people didn’t have medical insurance.

  “Her name?” Jace asked. “Did she give you that?”

  “Charlie Rogers.” The doctor lifted a brow. “I suspect it’s not real since she won’t give us an address. She does, however, have a driver’s license with that name.”