you’ll have help.”
She’d bitten her lip and nodded. Then fought the tears he’d seen gathering in her pretty blue eyes. “All right. I’m not going to be stupid. Thank you.”
The process had taken a grand total of thirty minutes. One thing about living on the road: buckaroos and bullfighters had the art of moving down to a science.
Now Tonya was tucked in her motor home next to his.
And he still couldn’t sleep.
He walked into the kitchen to grab a cup of water. Standing at the window, he studied Tonya’s motor home. She had one she drove—a Class C. Seth looked around his fifth wheel. Space-wise, his was larger, roomier than Tonya’s, but he had to haul his behind his truck. But he didn’t mind. When he wasn’t on the circuit, he was home in Wrangler’s Corner, his fifth wheel parked in a space on the property where he could hook up and have his own privacy. One day he’d build a house there.
A house for his wife, his family.
He couldn’t help glancing at Tonya’s motor home one more time. The light was still on, the brightness peeking around the edges of her pulled curtains.
He’d heard the rumors, of course. That after Daniel’s death, she’d closed herself off from any romantic entanglements with those in the business. He sighed. He understood it. He felt the same way. After Glory’s betrayal, he’d vowed that he’d make sure a woman loved him for himself, not his name or the money in his savings account. He grimaced and massaged the muscles above the bruise on his sore leg. Why was he even pondering these things? He was being silly.
No. He was lonely. He wanted a wife, a marriage. One like his parents’. They’d been married thirty-seven years. They’d had good times and bad, but they’d stuck it out and stayed together. Which was exactly what he was looking for.
Too bad the women he seemed to be attracted to didn’t feel the same way. Except maybe Tonya.
“Enough.” He swallowed the last of the water in his glass and headed back to bed. If he was going to ride tomorrow, he needed to sleep.
* * *
Tonya jerked awake, heart pounding, blood rushing. She shoved into a sitting position on the couch where she’d dozed off and rubbed a hand down her face. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. She couldn’t sleep until she was in a safe place. Right now Hank knew where she was. He might have to hunt a little to find her motor home, but she had no doubt he’d find her. She’d just bought herself a little time with the move. But how much time?
Tonya got up and grabbed her laptop. She opened the lid and powered her phone on to use as a hot spot for the internet.
Once she had her search engine up, she typed in Hank Newman. Several options came up. The newspaper article detailing his arrest record, the police report, the restraining order. Nothing she didn’t already know.
Next she typed in Tonya Lewis. Her birth name. The name she hadn’t used in over four years. She’d thought she’d be safe. Her major in college had been agriculture. Once she’d finished school, she’d gone to work for a business and had an office job.
And Hank had found her. Through the cracked blinds of her office, she’d happened to look up and see him walk in to speak to the receptionist. Tonya’s heart had dropped to her toes when the woman had pointed straight at her office. Tonya’d grabbed her purse and her personal laptop and escaped through the back door. She’d never gone back.
And during the course of their three dates, she’d never shared her passion for bullfighting with Hank. Which was why she’d thought she could hide out on the circuit.
And it had worked till now.
A creak at the back of the motor home swung her attention to the bedroom. She could see straight back, so she knew someone wasn’t inside. It was just the wind blowing. Clouds had darkened the sky before the sun had set and a storm was predicted for early morning. But she couldn’t help that her nerves jumped at every sound. She knew they would until she got out of Nashville.
But where would she go? What would she do now that her very livelihood had been threatened? This was her job, her life now. She couldn’t go back to an office.
Another scraping noise set her heart pounding. Again the sound came from the back. But that wasn’t the wind. She’d pulled the coverings over the windows at the front and the back. No one could see in, but she couldn’t see out either.
Tonya moved, her legs shaking. She tested the lock on the door. Secure. The door opened outward. No one could kick it in, so no one was coming in that way. Her breathing quickened.
A sound at the window over the couch made her spin around. In a flash, she knew what was going on. Someone was going window to window trying them. Seeing if he could find one unlocked. The windows slid left to right and had a flimsy screen over them. Easily removed.
And the windows were large. Someone could climb right in if he got one open. She waited, listening, trying to discern where he was. A thump overhead? A footstep?
Should she get out of the motor home? Cause a ruckus so people would come investigate? She crept toward the door. The handle rattled, sending every nerve in her body skittering with fear. She jerked her hand away and grabbed her cell phone. Shaky fingers punched in 911. Her breath came in low pants. The knob rattled again. Then footsteps leaving. She bit her lip.
“What’s your emergency?”
“Someone’s trying to break in my motor home. I’m at the rodeo fairgrounds arena.” She gave the address and prayed the woman could hear her. “He rattled my doorknob and tried my windows. I heard his footsteps leaving, but I don’t know if he’s gone or just trying to figure out another way to get in.”
The loud crash at the back of the motor home startled her into fumbling the phone. She dropped to her knees next to the device, her clumsy fingers grasping for it.
She looked up to see a man step out of her bathroom. He rushed toward her and for a moment she froze, paralyzed with fear. Then she spun for the door. Dropped the phone but got her fingers around the knob.
The sickeningly sweet odor of his familiar cologne took her back to the day she almost died. She twisted the lock.
Felt a hand in her hair and he yanked her back.
Tonya screamed.
Seth slammed the door of his fifth wheel shut behind him. He started to sit on the top step when the scream that came from Tonya’s motor home froze him for a split second. Then he snapped into action. He ignored the arching pain in his leg and raced across the short strip of red dirt to pound on her door. He tried the knob and found it locked. “Tonya! Open the door!”
A loud crash came from within. Seth stood on the second step, gripped the railing on either side for balance, leaned back and gave the door a swift kick with his good leg. It shuddered but didn’t even come close to opening. “Tonya!”
Lights in nearby motor homes flipped on. “What’s going on out there?” someone called.
“Call the police!”
