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NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
EPILOGUE
Dear Reader
If he caught her, he’d kill her. Tonya Waters hunched lower in the bullfighter barrel and held her breath.
Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t even breathe. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer. Would he look in the barrel? It seemed like such an obvious hiding place. Then again, it was one of many barrels in the equipment room. It would take him a while to search each one. Hopefully, she would be able to get out before he reached her.
But the footsteps moved closer to her. That sickening sweet cologne she remembered from four years ago tickled her gag reflex. She swallowed and curled into herself as tight as she dared. Her fingers, gripping the straps that had been mounted on the inside of the sphere, went numb.
“Tonya?”
His low singsong voice sent shivers of fear coursing through her. Stars danced before her eyes and she drew in another shallow breath. If she passed out, it was over. The stars faded. She lifted her head a fraction, just enough to see out of the top of the barrel.
Screams from the rodeo crowd just over her head reached her. Tonya had thought she’d be safe here, be a part of the rodeo, blend in with the crew. She’d been almost positive that the clown makeup and baggy clothes would be enough of a disguise should any pictures appear in a newspaper or on the news. Being a rodeo clown—or a bullfighter, as some were called—was hard work, exhilarating work.
Dangerous work.
But not as dangerous as having an obsessed ex-boyfriend finally track you down.
Now she’d have to run again. Change her name again. Find a new line of work.
Hank Newman had stalked her in college, threatened her family and nearly killed her. And now he’d come after her one more time. God, help me!
His good-looking exterior hid a heart of evil. Of violence and the potential to kill. Her throat tightened at the memory. He’d wrapped his fingers around her throat and pressed. Tight, tighter. Until she’d passed out. He’d dropped her to the floor and walked out, leaving her for dead.
She’d pressed charges and sent him to jail. And not even his powerful law-enforcement family could stop it. The fingerprints he’d left on her throat had matched his and a jury had put him away. But he hadn’t stayed locked up for long. He’d shown up a few months later at her office, where she’d been working only a few weeks. Fortunately, she’d seen him before he’d seen her and she’d slipped out of the office without a backward glance, knowing she would never be safe as long as he was free.
And now he was here. Looking for revenge.
Her eyes closed, not wanting to remember the hate on his face in the courtroom. “I’ll come after you, Tonya. You’re mine. If I can’t have you, no one will.”
The whispered cliché often made her awaken drenched in a fear-induced sweat.
How had Hank found her? The question tumbled through her mind as her muscles began to cramp. She listened. He hadn’t spoken a word except her name. She hadn’t heard footsteps except the ones that had brought him next to her hiding place.
What was he doing?
Listening for her just as intently as she was listening for him.
Tears leaked down her cheeks.
A scraping sound against the floor brought her head up. Another scrape. More footsteps. A barrel rocking. Terror thundered through her. No, no, no.
He was searching the barrels.
She could feel him getting closer, heard him mutter something under his breath.
“Hey, what are you doing in here? This room is for approved personnel only.”
Tonya jerked, then nearly cried in relief. She recognized Seth Starke’s voice. A buckaroo. A tall, good-looking bull rider whose blue eyes she’d spent way too much time noticing lately. But one who had impeccable timing. Thank You, Lord.
“Uh, sorry. I took a wrong turn. I was, uh...looking for something,” a voice said. Hank’s voice, that deep bass that she’d just started to push from her memory. She’d know it anywhere.
“Well, come on out of there. What can I help you find?”
“The restroom?”
Seth snorted. “Try up the hall and on the right.”
“Of course. Thanks.”
Tonya listened to the fading footsteps and finally the door shut with a soft click. She let her muscles relax and winced at the pain as the blood began to flow once again. When she could, she stood and climbed out of the barrel on still-shaky legs, then shot a glance at the clock on the wall. She was going to be late.
Hank Newman was here. Frustration and terror clawed at her. She didn’t want to run. She liked her life and what she’d built with the rodeo. But what other choice did she have?
But not until after Seth’s ride. It was the last one of the day and then she’d be finished. Then she could plan her next move. But what would that be? Stay and fight back? Or head for the hills? She drew in a deep breath and headed for the door.
Then paused, her hand on the knob.
Was he there? Just outside? Waiting for her to step through so he could grab her and wrap his strong, menacing hands around her throat again?
Tremors shook through her. She leaned her head against the door and tried to calm herself. He wouldn’t be there. Seth would have made sure of that. She turned the knob and shoved the door open.
The figure loomed in front of her. She let out a gasp and swallowed a scream.
“Hey, are you all right?” Seth grasped Tonya by the arm. She swayed and her stark white face troubled him. He’d admired her from afar for so long it felt strange to actually touch her.
She drew in a deep breath. “It’s you.”
“Yeah. Where did you come from? I didn’t see you in there.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “I was hiding.” The little laugh she let escape didn’t suggest she thought it was funny.
“Hiding? From...?”
“The guy
