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The melodic sound of a steel guitar grew louder as she neared the front steps, and when she opened the door, a bell tinkled, alerting a short, stocky bartender and a gray-haired waitress of her arrival. Both eyed her briefly before returning their attention to a couple in the corner booth. Lauren couldn’t help but follow their gaze to an angry man clad in a white T-shirt and jeans and his sad-eyed female companion, but another grumble in her stomach quelled her curiosity as well as her awareness of the dingy room and the scent of stale tobacco.
Instead of a table, she chose a seat at the bar, next to a television with the volume turned down. The music from an old red-and-chrome jukebox filled the room.
“What’ll ya have?” the balding bartender asked, his hooded eyes still glued to the corner booth.
“Ice tea,” she answered. “And a menu, please.”
“Sure.” The bartender furrowed his brow, all the while staring at the couple. He reached beneath the counter and slapped a worn, food-stained menu in front of Lauren.
“Damn it, Kerri-Leigh,” a gruff male voice bellowed, loud and belligerent. “Don’t go tellin’ me what to do. I’m not ready to leave.” Then he hollered at the bartender. “Ben, bring me another beer.”
Unable to help herself, Lauren stole another look at the couple. She studied the woman with the stringy blond hair. Young, was her first observation. Nervous, her second.
“I’m not trying to rush you, Brady,” the woman named Kerri-Leigh said. “I’m just tired. I worked the night shift and I need some sleep.”
When Lauren gazed back at the menu, her sunglasses slipped down the bridge of her nose. Well, no wonder it was so dark in here. But even after she removed the tinted glasses, the Long Shot remained unlit and dingy.
“I’ll have a tuna salad,” she told the bartender, not wanting to take the time to read the menu. He nodded, his attention on neither her nor her order.
She sensed danger. Trouble, like the storm that threatened outside. Maybe she should order a sandwich to go, but before she could speak, the bartender turned to a phone against the wall.
He dialed, then paused. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “Cole, it’s me. Brady’s in here with your sister again. He’s plenty drunk and gettin’ himself worked up. You told me to call you next time.”
Ben nodded his balding head. “Okay, but you’d better hurry. Last time he jerked her into his truck and drove off before I got the chance to call you.” He nodded again. “No problem. I don’t cotton to men gettin’ rough with women.”
Great, Lauren thought. There was going to be a fight of some kind. Well, she wasn’t about to let herself get involved in a public brawl in a honky-tonk that was more of a bar than a diner. She didn’t need the excitement or the danger. “Excuse me,” she told the bartender. “I’ve changed my mind. Make my order a tuna sandwich—to go.”
Ben glanced at the corner booth, then back to her. “Sure thing. That’s probably a good idea.”
When he gazed behind Lauren, she looked over her shoulder and spotted the teary-eyed woman following an arrow that pointed toward the rest room. Not much of a reprieve, Lauren thought. She didn’t want to think about the hard life of the woman who’d made only a temporary escape. Or her own short-term bout of avoidance.
She returned her attention to the television. National news, the caption read. When the camera zoomed in on the parklike yard of the home she and Daniel had intended to share, her mouth dropped. The words were hard to hear over the beat of a country love song blaring in the background, but she strained her ears just the same.
“Lauren Taylor…fiancée…State Senate candidate, Daniel Walker…disappeared…FBI called in…. kidnapping…wealthy socialite.”
Lauren gripped the countertop, knuckles white and aching. Kidnapped? She’d run away, for goodness sake. Hadn’t Daniel realized the shattered Waterford vase and upended table were evidence of her hasty but temperamental goodbye? And surely he’d seen the engagement ring she’d thrown across the room. The rock-sized diamond had bounced along the Spanish-tiled floor and rested in a pool of water, glistening amidst shards of crystal and scattered red roses.
She had the urge to call, to straighten things out but, deep inside, something bruised and vulnerable put her first inclination to rest.
Choices. It was all about having choices, a luxury Lauren never allowed herself. But things were going to change. Lauren Taylor didn’t want to go back. Not now, maybe not ever.
She slipped on her sunglasses, fumbled for her bags, then glanced around the diner. Who else had seen the news broadcast? Maybe no one, but she wouldn’t take the chance. The rest room. She’d slip in there for a while, maybe until her lunch was ready. Then she’d take off—although she had no idea where.
Lauren walked with long, quick strides, then entered the ladies’ room and paused as the door swung closed behind her. The woman named Kerri-Leigh was trying to wiggle through a narrow window. “I don’t think you’re going to fit.”
Kerri-Leigh stopped struggling and slid to the tiled floor. She faced Lauren, her eyes wide and filled with tears. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Lauren’s heart went out to the young woman whose life appeared to be in worse turmoil than her own. “I don’t blame you. Can I help?”
“Not without getting your teeth jarred. Brady gets downright ornery when he’s mad.” The young woman leaned against the baby-blue-painted cubicle. “My brother warned me. He said those court-ordered anger management classes wouldn’t help a hardheaded man like Brady, but I disagreed.”
“They didn’t help?”
“Things were better for a while, especially after he quit drinking and went back to AA.” Kerri-Leigh nodded toward the door. “But you heard him yelling at me. And you probably saw him drinking.” She ran her hands along the tops of her arms as though chilled. “You know, it’s gotten to where I can feel a beating coming.”
“So you were going to run away.”
Kerri-Leigh eyed her with a pained intensity. “He won’t let me walk out the front door. I can’t think of a better way, can you?”
“I overheard the bartender call a man named Cole. I think he’s on his way.”
Kerri-Leigh slumped against the wall and rolled her eyes. “Oh, no.”
“You don’t look too happy about that.”
“I’m not.” Kerri-Leigh sighed heavily. “Don’t get me wrong. My brother is the greatest guy who ever lived. He has a rock-hard sense of right and wrong, especially when it comes to the way people treat each other.”
“What’s so bad about that?” Lauren asked. She could think of a few people she wished were so honorable.
“The last time Brady laid a hand on me, Cole swore he’d kill him if he touched me again.” Kerri-Leigh glanced up, worry etched on her face. “Believe me, Cole will tear into Brady if he thinks I’m in trouble. And then, all heck will break out.” She looked back at Lauren, as though beseeching her to understand. “My brother can’t get involved. And if the police come…” She shook her head and reexamined the small overhead window. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
Lauren couldn’t comprehend the brutal life this woman had lived, but God knew she understood the desire to run away, to escape. They both needed to slip out undetected. But how? She bit her bottom lip, then a wild idea came to mind. “How badly do you want to leave?”
“You have no idea.” Kerri-Leigh blew out a heavy sigh, then glanced at the small window. “But it’s impossible.”
Lauren placed an arm around Kerri-Leigh, and drew the stringy-haired blonde to the smudged, bathroom mirror. They stood side by side and stared into the cloudy glass. “What do you see?”
Kerri-Leigh shrugged. “Two women.”
“Two women who could never pass as twins, granted. But with a little work, a bit of makeup and imagination, we just might be able to pass long enough for you to reach the front door.”
Kerri-Leigh shook her head. “Brady might be drunk, but he’s not blind.”
“We won’t let him see your face.” Lauren placed her gym bag on the countertop, then dug inside for her brush, disregarding the yellow envelope she hadn’t taken time to open. “With your hair pulled up and my sunglasses on…”
“It’ll never work.”
“I’m taller, but…” Lauren continued to comb Kerri-Leigh’s yellow-blond hair, noting the shorter woman didn’t pull away.
“And much thinner,” Kerri-Leigh said. “Heck, you look like a New York fashion model and I’m—”
“In trouble,” Lauren reminded her. “Just listen to my plan.” Unclipping her own hair, Lauren shook out the strands. “I’ll wear your clothes, slip out of the bathroom and slide along the wall to the jukebox, my back to everyone in the diner. As I play around with the buttons, you walk out the door, head high.”
“And then run like hell?” Kerri-Leigh arched a brow, then shook her head. “I might want to leave Brady, but I’m not crazy. He’d chase me down in that big old Plymouth of his.”
For a moment, Lauren worried about the wisdom of getting involved, but she couldn’t stand by and let Kerri-Leigh be brutalized by that man. And as for loaning her car to a stranger, she should probably dump the vehicle anyway, especially if her kidnapping had made national news. She dug through her purse and withdrew her car keys and a pen. “I have a Ford Expedition outside.”
“Oh, I couldn’t take your car. How will you get home?”
Home? Lauren didn’t know where home was anymore. And she’d like to ditch the car for a few days, just until she was ready to surface. “Don’t worry about me,” she said with a sense of false bravado. She handed Kerri-Leigh the keys. “Leave my car at the nearest bus depot or train station. I’ll find it there. Do you have any money?”
“Only enough to get about ten miles down the road.” Kerri-Leigh’s shoulders slumped. “Not far enough to keep Brady away.”
Lauren reached into her wallet and withdrew a hundred-dollar bill. “Take this.” She watched a moral dilemma cross Kerri-Leigh’s face, but took the worried woman’s hand and pressed the bill in her palm. “I have plenty.”
“I’ll pay back every dime.”
“I know you will,” Lauren said, not caring whether she saw a penny of it. “But listen carefully. Stay off the interstate and don’t drive any farther than you have to.”
If Kerri-Leigh had any suspicions about Lauren’s reason for the instructions, she didn’t let on. “But what about you? How will you get out of here?”
“I’ll call a cab and get a hotel room in the nearest town.”
“You might have a heck of a time finding a cab that will come all the way out to Tannen.”
“Then I’ll hitch a ride,” Lauren lied, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. “Don’t worry about me.”
“My brother, Cole, will be here soon. He’ll take you anywhere you need to go, especially since you’ve helped me. He’s honorable about that sort of thing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Laurie said.
“All right,” Kerri-Leigh said as she began to unbutton her blouse. “Brady had just ordered another drink when I excused myself. Maybe he won’t notice at that.”
Within minutes, they exchanged clothing. Lauren did the best she could to pull Kerri-Leigh’s hair into a twist and clip the ends. A quick but thick application of red lipstick, followed by dark sunglasses made Kerri-Leigh appear older, wiser and certainly different.
While the smaller woman admired the makeover, Lauren ran her fingers through her own strands, knowing they’d never look as stringy as her new friend’s had. But then, she just needed to appear similar, at least from the backside, and only for a few minutes. She studied her reflection in the mirror, and a stranger wearing hot pink leggings and an oversized white shirt stared back at her. She garnered a smile. “Okay, let’s give it a try.”
As they stood before the door, Kerri-Leigh paused, then reached for Lauren’s hand. “You’ve been a real friend. And taken on more than most women would. I really appreciate this. What’s your name?”
Lauren opened her mouth to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. What was her name? Lauren? Not originally.
Her mother had called her Laurie. The nickname evoked vague memories of love and warmth. Lauren wondered if she might, at some level, try to tap into the person she should have been, instead of the polished, manipulated aristocrat who had tried to please everyone but herself. A woman who had the means to purchase anything her heart desired—except happiness. “Laurie,” she answered, hearing the sweet, simple sound for the first time in years.
Kerri-Leigh smiled. “I won’t forget you, Laurie. You’re a saint.”
A saint? Hardly, she thought. God knew she had tried, but it was never enough. She could still hear the crisp, nasal sound of Aunt Caroline’s voice. Laurie Smith is simply too plain, too common. You’re a Taylor now. You need a name that reflects money, culture and class. Lauren Taylor suits you much better.
And, according to Aunt Caroline, so had a liberal arts degree instead of pre-med.
And blond hair instead of brown.
As Kerri-Leigh reached for the doorknob, Lauren tapped her shoulder. “Wait. Before we go, where’s the nearest hair salon?”
“You mean beauty shop?”
Lauren nodded. “I’d like to have my hair dyed.”
Kerri-Leigh furrowed her brow. “Why? The color is perfect.”
A perfect color? It should be, at the rate she’d paid Jonathan to lighten it. “Thank you, but I want to darken it.”
“It’s cheaper to do it yourself.”
Cost had never been an issue. Jonathan was the best in Beverly Hills, where a simple shampoo and style cost well over a hundred dollars. “I feel more comfortable having a professional do it.”
Kerri-Leigh sighed. “In that case, I’d recommend Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. It’s about five miles down the road on Main Street. Sandy just moved back to town and is trying to establish her clientele. But she’s the best hairstylist around.”
“Is she a friend of yours?”
Kerri-Leigh paused for a moment. “Yes, she’s a good friend.”
“Thanks for the advice. Sandy at Carla’s Crazy Curl. I’ll find it.”
As Kerri-Leigh held open the door, Lauren, or rather Laurie, slipped into the darkened interior of the Long Shot. Wiping her hands on the long white shirt she wore, she took a deep breath, then bellied up to the jukebox, dropped some coins into the slot, and randomly picked number B-16. As the sounds of a somebody-done-somebody-wrong song filled the room, Laurie was faced with a disconcerting, heart-pounding awareness. The first choice she’d made by listening to the whispers of her own heart might have been a big mistake.
The idea to switch places with a stranger had been utter foolishness.
Laurie crossed her fingers and glanced at the front door. She hoped Kerri-Leigh’s brother arrived soon.
And that he was as noble as the woman had implied.
Chapter Two
Cole McAdams slammed his hand on the dashboard of the vintage truck. If Brady Cooper so much as laid a finger on his sister, he’d beat him senseless.
It was a good thing Cole had given Ben and Evie down at the Long Shot his cell phone number. It’s the only way they would have been able to track him down. He hadn’t been home since he took his daughter to the Petersons’ house to spend the day and night.
Thank God. He would have been in a real quandary if Beth had been home. A five-year-old child had no business at a bar fight.
Cole barreled down the long driveway and turned onto the county road that would take him to the Long Shot. He wasn’t about to let Brady Cooper continue to push his sister around.
What made a woman stay with a man who mistreated her? Or leave one who treated her well, for that matter?
Cole’s ex-wife had bailed out on him, and he’d been damn good to her. He would have done anything to make her and their daughter happy. But she’d hightailed it out of town and left little Beth teary-eyed and him feeling betrayed.
And drowning in debt.
Cole gripped the steering wheel tightly, as he thought about the bills that began coming in after she’d gone. Apparently, she’d applied for credit cards he hadn’t known about then run each one to the hilt before taking off. And because Cole had taken a large mortgage on the ranch several years ago to pay off a couple of foolhardy investments his father had made prior to passing away, things looked bleak.
His accountant, a conservative family friend, had suggested bankruptcy as a solution, but Cole wasn’t a quitter. He refused the well-intentioned advice. Instead, he worked out a plan using some creative financial juggling, then sold off most of the stock and some of the finest cutting horses in the state. It nearly killed him to see it all go to auction, but he’d managed to hold the creditors at bay and decrease the mortgage by half.
He had just enough cash left to keep him and Beth afloat until the next yearling auction in the spring. Cutting horses held only a certain value in Texas, where they were considered a useful commodity. But in California, wealthy professionals would pay a dear price to own a high-quality horse, and Cole had quickly cashed in on that trend.
He’d lost nearly everything except ten of his finest brood-mares he’d kept to slowly replenish his stock, including what he believed was his ace in the hole—Sugar Foot, the best little mare ever to run cattle. She was due to foal any day, and his hopes of a comeback rested upon that colt or filly.
It had been a long, hard road back from financial ruin. But Cole was determined to make it, and he wasn’t about to lose anything else. Not his ranch, and not his daughter. He had gathered most of his spare cash to pay a high-priced city lawyer a small fortune to ensure Beth remained with him.
He’d never forgive his ex-wife for leaving. Or for coming back to Tannen, thinking she deserved a relationship with the child she’d abandoned. Kerri-Leigh said the woman had changed, but Cole didn’t believe it. And even if she had, he’d never be able to trust her again. Honesty, like family loyalty, was sacred to him.
