Her Lifeline: (A Romantic Suspense) Read online

  “I’m so sorry, Amelia. I thought we could turn things around with that money.”

  “Unless you suddenly become able bodied or your son comes home from living big city life, we’re gonna be stuck in the same boat we’ve been in for the past year. I’m trying my best, but it’s obviously not good enough for what this damn ranch demands. I guess we better just accept the inevitable and sell out. I can’t do this much longer.”

  Turning on her heel, she went up the stairs and slammed the door to her room, finally breaking down. Tears flowed down her face and she curled up into the fetal position, allowing it all to come out. The thought of selling the ranch killed her. She couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t do it. She had to think of something else. They needed a man around here to pick up the slack from where her husband had left off when he abandoned them. But how?

  Moving to the bed, she picked up the newspaper off of the nightstand and skimmed through it. Same old bad news about bad economy and budget cuts. The back page was the classifieds and the Help Wanted section caught her eye. Hired help was her last resort. She couldn’t afford to pay someone competitive wages, but she could at least provide room and board, which was something that many people didn’t have at the moment.

  It was worth a shot. What did they have to lose?

  Chapter Two

  “A help wanted ad? Amelia, have you lost your mind?” Her father tried following her through the living room and into the kitchen. For a man with a cane, he could move fast and was only a few steps behind her. “You realize that we have no money to pay someone, right? And with the work we’re gonna need done, we’ll be the laughing stock of the town when they see it!”

  Amelia grabbed a notepad and a pen and sat at the table as she jot down some ideas of what the ad could say. “Dad, I realize this. Maybe there’s someone out there who just wants some food and a roof over their head. We can provide that, right?”

  Her dad let out a laugh and leaned against the counter top as he looked out of the window. “Hon, this isn’t the twenties. Men need paychecks now.”

  “We can pay whoever it is some wages, but I’m hoping the selling point will be a rent free place. They can stay in the bunkhouse in the backyard. You know how rent has gone up like crazy because of Austin.” She tapped the pen against the table and shook her head. Who was she kidding? Her dad was right. It was all about money nowadays, even with the recession going on. It was like she was living back during the depression. Things weren’t like that now.

  Her father sat beside her at the table, resting his hands on his cane as he looked over her notes. “You can try, Amelia. There’s no harm in trying, I guess. You never know.”

  “I wouldn’t be so frantic if an angry loan shark wasn’t after us. Daddy, I still can’t believe that you went to someone without talking to me about it.”

  “I was desperate. It was a solution at the time.”

  Amelia buried her face in her hands. “I’d still be frantic, but that letter is so threatening. You think we might go to the police with it? Can’t be too careful, right?”

  Her dad’s eyes widened. “No, we better not. I’m sure it just means the interest rate will go up or something. The cops won’t do a damn thing but say we’re in the wrong and not them.”

  There was more to it. Amelia had a hunch that her father wasn’t telling her the whole story. It would be her priority to get right down to the bottom of it, but she had to take everything a step at a time. The most important thing was seeing if anyone would be dumb enough to answer an ad offering hardly any pay to work a good sized ranch alone, putting in long hours. She had to phrase it where it didn’t sound so bad, but she didn’t want someone walking in blindside on a situation and bailing five minutes into the gig.

  Poising the pen on the paper, she began to write what came to mind. They could proofread it later.

  Medium sized ranch in small town near Austin seeking a ranch hand to take care of animals, harvesting crops, and upkeep of ranch equipment. Experience preferred but not necessary. Competitive salary along with room and board offered. Call 512-555-3278 and ask for Amelia for more details.

  Amelia read it over. It had to be short and to the point. The newspaper charged too much as it was. Sliding the notepad to her dad, his eyes scanned it. A small smile parted his lips. “Competitive salary?”

  “I know, Dad. It’s a lie, but I gotta get some interest if we’re gonna have a chance. I don’t think anyone will call if I put laughable salary or next to nothing salary, right?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and read it again. “I’m not even sure a ranch hand will solve our problems, but maybe whoever comes in can help generate some sort of crop to give us a little income.”

  “I think it could do some good. Everything is just sitting right now. You do what you can, but it’s enough work for five men. If someone does take the job, he’s got his work cut out for him, that’s for sure.” He patted her hand. “How about we cross those bridges when we get to them? Take that ad to the paper, get it in print, and we’ll see what pops.”

  Nodding, she ripped the top page from the pad and folded it up. “We’re running out of time.”

  “I think this will turn out better than you think.”

  “Yeah?” She was certain her dad was just being optimistic to keep her from having an anxiety attack. Sometimes it was helpful and sometimes she hated that he wasn’t realistic.

  “I’ve got a good feeling, hon.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  ****

  Nick made it to Austin later that evening and dropped the car off at the address listed. He was somewhat familiar with the city, but it had been years since he had been there and lots of things had changed. As a kid he spent a lot of time in south Austin, getting into trouble and avoiding going home at all costs. Now he found himself back and a nostalgic feeling crept in. His old stomping ground was within walking distance of the rental place, and he debated on going by.

  Hoisting his duffel bag, he walked out onto the sidewalk, feeling the humid air against his skin. It was a different heat than what he experienced in Afghanistan and Iraq. The moisture was thick and he was sweating after just a few steps. He loved the feel on his skin. Anything to get his mind off of the Middle East and all of the horrible things he experienced there.

  Some residual pain built up in his leg and he tried to mask the limp he had picked up – one of the many souvenirs from his tours that he couldn’t return. He still felt he was fit physically, and his injuries hadn’t been enough to discharge him, at least not when he had first gotten them. Now the army was using them as one of the reasons he was let go due to budget cuts. Gritting his teeth, Nick tried to push the thought aside. He still couldn’t believe that it had served as his job and lifestyle for so long, and they just tossed him out like trash after so many hard years put in.

  He had to get it out of his head. The papers had been signed. He was a civilian. He had to force himself to push past it. It wasn’t going to be easy.

  After about ten minutes of walking, he came across the cul-de-sac where he had spent one of his summers with a foster family. His parents had been non-existent in his life, and the family in Austin was one of the few he could think about and find comfort in. A simple pat on the back, a nod of encouragement, and most of all, the warm hugs from the foster mom. He wished he could have spent all of his time there, but it didn’t work out the way he wanted.

  The houses on the block hadn’t changed much. Trees lined the sidewalk and tons of kids were still out playing. It warmed Nick’s heat for a second, but when he finally made his way to the dead end, a cold feeling settled in, replacing any nostalgia he was experiencing just a few minutes before. Residual thoughts of his mother and father flashed before his eyes and he closed them, trying hard to brush it aside. If he thought about that negativity, it would just drudge up other bad memories he didn’t want to ever think about again.

  “Mister, what are you doing here?” A little boy tugged on his shir
t, pulling him from his thoughts. Nick instantly wanted to thank him for the rescue from his own mid. He was young, about seven, and sweaty from playing a hard game of stick baseball in the street.

  “Hey kid. Just taking a walk.”

  “You live around here? We’ve never seen you before.”

  “I used to.”

  A woman stepped out onto her porch and folded her arms over her chest as she watched. The last thing Nick wanted was the cops called on him, and she didn’t look amused at the fact that he was speaking with her child.

  “Randy, hon, how about you come wash up?”

  Yeah, Mom, that’s code for get your ass away from the stranger. Nick took a few steps back and nodded. “You better go do what your mom says.”

  The boy shook his head. “She ain’t my Mom, mister. That’s my aunt.”

  It reminded Nick of his past and he couldn’t help but smile. “Then go do what your aunt says.”

  Turning to walk away, he heard the boy yell back at him. “If you’re lost I can help you.”

  The kid had no idea. Lost was such a loaded word and Nick wished it was something as simple as having a kid help him with it. Pulling his bag over his back, he felt his body ache. He couldn’t walk as far as he used to thanks to the army. He needed to find a place to rest, but the neon lights of a bar pulled him in. The place wasn’t too packed and Nick was able to go up to the bar and order a glass of whiskey.

  Staring at it, it reminded him of the night before in whatever small town he was in. Different town, same situation. He couldn’t help the notice the bartender. Her long black hair flowed down to the middle of her back. Her shirt fit her perfectly, accentuating every curve she had. Her look was mesmerizing and Nick tried hard to ignore her. Even without trying, she was captivating, or maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t really been with a woman in so long. The army had lots of women, but Nick never felt a connection with anyone.

  “What are you so upset about?” She filled his glass back up, her eyebrow arching. Her perfume was strong, but was refreshing over the stale alcohol stench.

  Nick shrugged and lifted the drink to his lips, taking a glance at her cleavage. His imagination ran wild. “Who says I’m upset?”

  “Honey, I am a bartender. Part of my job is noticing things like that.”

  Nick leaned back on the stool. “You can tell just from my drink order?”

  “Your drink order, your body language, you know. It’s general psychology.”

  Funny and hot. Though he wasn’t feeling sociable, she at least was easing the tension. “And here I was thinking I was hiding it so well.” He drained the booze and tapped the glass, asking for more. His money situation was getting worse and if he had much more to drink, he wouldn’t have enough to have a place to stay. The very thought of sleeping on the street made his skin crawl, despite the fact that he had been in filthy places when deployed. It was America. It shouldn’t happen, but it did.

  “So what gives? What’s going on with you?”

  “I’m not gonna share my personal stuff with someone I just met.”

  She nodded and wiped up a wet spot with a towel. Draping it over her shoulder, she seemed to be studying him. “You’re a good looking guy. Don’t seem so sad.” Patting him on the cheek, she continued. “With those eyes and that hair, you could have any woman right in the palm of your hand. You have those do me dimples and that troubled, angry, bad boy look to you. Chicks dig that.”

  “Only because I haven’t shaved.” Nick felt his face heat up and he had a hard time looking her in the eye. He considered himself shy with women, though he never had a problem picking up a date when he was actually interested in it.

  “Seriously, is there anything I can help you with?” Her flirtatious grin changed to concern.

  “Know of any jobs around here? I’m running out of money. Don’t have a place to stay.”

  “You fresh out of prison?”

  The question made Nick laugh. He was finally feeling a buzz from the liquor and his shyness was wearing off. “Why? Do I look like I came from the penitentiary? You did say I had a bad boy look to me.”

  Her smile was wide at his quick comeback. “Are you? You’d be surprised at how many ex cons come around here”

  Nick shook his head. “No, I’m not out of prison, though some might think it was. Just got discharged from the army. Kinda just threw me out on my ass. Getting pretty desperate for anything that’ll give me a paycheck.”

  “Anything, huh?” She arched her eyebrow. “With a face and body like yours, I’m sure we could make some money putting you as an escort. Be one of the few female pimps to a man prostitute. What do you say?”

  Nick laughed again, feeling very relaxed. “I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Jolene. And you?”

  “Nick. Nice to meet you.”

  Jolene reached under the bar and slapped a newspaper on the surface. “I guess you can start with the want ads. I’m not real sure of any openings around here right now. You know, with the shitty economy, it’s iffy. They list tons of jobs daily, so if you can get your hands on it every morning, it might get you a good jumpstart.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “Want me to top off your drink?” Jolene held the bottle up, ready to pour.

  “No, better cut me off now. Need to be awake and ready to go in the morning to job hunt.” He put some money on the bar, making sure there was a good tip for her. “Appreciate the help.”

  “Forget about it. I didn’t do a damn thing.”

  Stepping toward the door, he grabbed his bag and nodded. “Have a good night.” Walking back out onto the street, his next course of action was to find a decent hotel and a hot shower. No one would give him a second glance until he shaved his facial hair and cleaned up. Job hunting. It terrified him more than being on the frontlines.

  After wandering the streets for about thirty minutes, he came across what would probably be considered a bad motel to most, but with his dwindling pile of cash, it would serve as the Hilton for him. He only booked one night and would just play it by ear. He was certain he’d be there longer, but he didn’t want to overpay and be out of money.

  Walking into his room, he threw his stuff on the floor and went straight to the bathroom. His reflection haunted him. He thought he looked horrible just hours before, but now he looked like he belonged in the alley. No wonder the aunt at his old neighborhood wanted her nephew to come inside. His beard was almost full now and the bags under his eyes were dark. He had to get a handle on it all. Who in their right mind would hire him looking like this?

  The shower felt good against his aching bones, and he ran his fingers over several scars, the main ones being on his shoulder and leg. A chill shot through him at the feel of the old wounds and he closed his eyes, allowing the warm water to drench him. Just the feel of the battle scars were enough to send his memory into overdrive, and having residual thoughts were the last thing he needed to happen.

  He didn’t have any shaving cream, so he lathered up the hotel soap as best as he could and shaved. His skin was smooth underneath and he felt like he had lost ten pounds almost instantly.

  He tried to avoid staring at himself in the mirror again, but took a quick glance. He looked somewhat better. Maybe a good night’s sleep would also help. Falling back into the bed, he didn’t even bother to put a shirt or boxers on. The sheets were cool against his naked body, and he burrowed his face under the pillows, allowing his muscles to relax into the mattress. Within seconds, he was asleep.

  “Help me, Miller! Help me!”

  Nick looked back over his shoulder, his friend and fellow soldier running toward a young child. It was so dusty and he had to squint to see through it. He seemed to be so far away, yet his friend’s screams were loud enough for him to hear over the gunfire and bombs erupting around them.

  “Miller! He’s tied to a bomb! We gotta get him loose!”

  Nick tried to run, but the desert wind was strong and his legs felt li
ke they were one hundred pounds each. “Wait, Johnson, it’s a trap!”

  They had been warned before the mission of the area being concentrated with IED’s and how the terrorists would stop at nothing to sidetrack them. Using a child was just another evil way to get a rise out of them and Nick had a feeling this was one of those situations.

  “Wait!” He yelled out, but his voice wouldn’t work. What in the hell was so loud? What was rumbling?

  Johnson ignored his warning and continued on, sprinting toward the child. A loud explosion was so close that it sent Nick backwards, landing about fifty yards from where he had just been standing. He landed on his back and the impact was so hard that it knocked the wind out of him. It took him a few seconds, but he gained enough composure to sit up, only to see a massive crater where Johnson had been running. There were no signs of the child or his battle buddy, and anger coursed through him. Standing up, he gripped his weapon and fought the urge to run in the same direction.

  “Johnson!” Again, his voice cracked, unable to make a dent against the war sounds around him. “Damn it, Johnson!”

  An arm grabbed him, pulling him from out in the open. He tried his hardest to fight it off, but his energy was gone and he was confused.

  “He’s gone, Miller! Come with me, now! They’re about to raid this area!”

  Loud jets soared above and Nick’s pulse raced at the sight over their heads.

  Nick jolted awake, swiping the sweat from his forehead. Where the hell was he? The room was dark and there was a small glow of a streetlight gleaming in from outside. Rolling over, he felt the headache behind his eyes heighten from his sudden movement. What in the hell? There was an alarm clock on the nightstand by his bed. It said it was a little after midnight. His memory slowly came back and he realized he wasn’t deployed in the Middle East. He was in his motel room in Austin.