***NOTE*** - This story is part of my Trouble Texas Style series that began with Night Walker's Woman (complete) and includes Tight Fittin' Jeans, One Night Stand, and Ready to Run. It is best read in that context. While the stories have different titles and the storylines revolve around different main characters, they are best thought of as one story - like a tv series or George R R Martin Fire & Ice. I am doing my best to keep them in chronological order.
***TRIGGER WARNING*** - This story, in particular, deals with the sensitive issue of the rape trauma. Both the heroine and hero are rape survivors. There will be brief flashbacks but I am NOT including any graphic depictions of something that is a crime of violence and power, not a sex act.
Estimates are that 20% of women experience sexual assault. That is one in five. But the forgotten or ignored is the 4% of men or one in twenty-five. Sadly, for men, dealing with rape's aftermath is complicated by societal prejudices and lack of services.
Please do not read this story if such things trigger you - or seek support.
***
What the hell was she even doing here? Stacey had asked herself that question with every mile she took out of Sebida. This was not the plan. They had all agreed on a bug out location months ago. They would gather there together -- if the shit hit the fan.
But the shit had more than hit the fan. And none of it was going to plan. They were scattering to the four winds — her babies and grandbabies. And Stacey felt the panic rising along with the bile in her throat.
Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for just one thing -- her baby girl. But she saw no sign of Mercy.
She should leave. Get out of here. Head to the old abandoned cabin that had been the original plan. Maybe Mercy had gotten confused. These changes were last minute, and she had not fully answered the girl's questions. She had been in too much of a rush to get Elena and her family on the road and out of danger.
This was not a good idea. Too many people. Too visible. The cabin would be much better to hide out -- until they could figure out a plan. Or until Ryan and Laura came up with whatever the feds were looking for, and made a deal with the people. But Stacey knew it was not that simple. She had read that in the man's eyes.
But Laura was right, no matter what, she trusted the man with her daughter's and granddaughter's lives. Jack, too. It might have been years since they had much to do with the boy, though he was no longer that, her gut told her she could trust him. The problem was that Jack was not even here. He was with Ryan and Laura wherever they were heading. That bothered her too. Not even knowing where her family was.
But what bothered her most was that she had waited at Laura's for almost two hours for the Sherriff to show up. She had rehearsed her whole performance over and over, but the man never came. She had even run by her trailer on the way here, but no sign of the man there either.
Had Kerr managed to intercept Brad before they made it out of Sebida County? That wasn't likely. They had met almost at the county line. No, Elena and her family should be okay. Of course, Kerr might have found Laura before they made it to meet Lupe in Navasota? But surely she would have heard something from Jack or Ryan by now.
She wrung her hands as she scanned the darkened room one more time. No, what worried her most was Mercy? The county library was just blocks from the jail. The Sherriff could have, likely did, go straight there, first. Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? Why had she allowed Mercy to go into work at all? She knew that answer too. They were all trying to appear as close to 'normal' as they could. To give Ryan the best chance of getting Chloe and Laura someplace safer. But dammit, not at her baby's expense.
She shook her head when she saw no sign of her youngest daughter. Jack had said that his chief of security would meet her there, but she could not even remember the man's damned name. And going to the bar to ask for him would only draw attention to herself.
No, it was better to head towards the cabin. It was fully stocked, and she still had her bug out bag with a couple of grand, the gun, and, most importantly, the burner phone. The only real numbers in it were the ones of the other burners that her girls carried with them. Hopefully, she would hear from Mercy or at least Laura soon. Her mind made up she headed back towards the door.
"Keep heading that direction but turn right just before the door," the voice lacked that distinctive Texas drawl. It had virtually no accent at all. And the hand on her elbow that guided her towards the door was firm but not so tight as to be painful. She shivered as she always did at any man's touch. But for now, she allowed it, in this case, it was not worth creating a scene.
Stacey turned her head to look at the man. Chiseled, until that moment, she had never understood what that word even meant when she read it in her trashy romances. But it was the only word she could think of to describe the firm planes and deep valleys of this man's face. He was older than Jack, by at least a decade. Perhaps somewhere in his mid-forties. The deep creases and lines around his mouth, eyes, and forehead told her that.
She had not seen the man around Sebida before. He was definitely not one of Kerr's crooked deputies. Unless the man had hired someone new. But she had no idea who was looking for Laura. Could this be the Stephens guy that Ryan spoke to? Another thought occurred to her, "Who are you?"
"Reb, Reb Smith, I work for Jack," the man did not smile. His eyes seemed to be scanning the room, especially the door as he turned them down an even darker hallway.
His words should have reassured her, but something about his demeanor, the urgency and caution that he exuded, actually made her even more nervous. "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere that we can talk without being seen," he replied as he opened the door to a black room.
She shook her head, "I don't know you from Adam. I sure as hell ain't going in a dark room with a man I don't know. Even if you do say, you know Jack."
He ran his free hand through his thinning but longish brown hair. Stacey took a moment to study the man closer. He had a mustache and closely termed goatee that covered his strong chin. But even his firm jawline wore a five o'clock shadow. She could tell the man was thinking, perhaps considering what to say next. But she was not prepared for the words that came from those, sort of, sexy lips.
"There is an APB out for your daughter. She shot the Sherriff."
Stacey collapsed against the wall. If not for the man's firm hand on her arm, she would have slid to the floor, "How did he find Laura?"
He shook his head, "Not Laura. I just heard from Jack. They are fine. Or they were." His eyes met hers directly for the first time. Amber like good Scotch, and just as heated.
"Mercy. It was Mercy who shot Kerr."
"No," she shook her head in denial. "If it were Mercy, the man would be dead."
His grip on her arm tightened just the slightest bit, "How many men has your daughter shot? How many have you shot, sweetheart? Cause let me fucking tell you, looking a man in the eye and pulling the trigger is a helluva lot harder than some fucking black and white outline on a piece of paper."
Stacey wanted to deny his words, argue about all the hours she had spent drilling her girls in gun safety, and shooting those targets. But he was right. As much as she hated Kerr, even she had wondered if she would have the courage to carry through with her plan...one day.
But this was today. And her baby girl had shot the man. She took a deep cleansing breath, "So if there is an APB, that means he does not have her under arrest, right? Not yet, anyway."
