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When Rick joined the Marines, he thought up a hundred different ways he could be injured or even meet his death. Hell, he thought it was hilarious at the time to come up with new ideas with his fellow recruits. But being rendered completely powerless, unable to fight, was not how Rick wanted to die.
Chapter 2
ANNETTE QUINN HARDY hid under the bed in the guestroom, terrified of what would happen if she were found. Trembling, she covered her nose and mouth so she wouldn’t sneeze from the dust bunnies that had collected under the old mattress.
I’m twenty-three years old, and I’m cowering under a bed.
A loud crash from the kitchen made Quinn flinch, causing her to hit her head on the metal bedframe. She bit the inside of her cheek, stifling her cry of pain, terrified to give away her hiding place.
The thunderous noise moved from the kitchen to the family room, every thump and bang resonating throughout the modest ranch house. Heavy boots stomped through each room, echoing in Quinn’s ears. Her pale skin was covered in goose bumps from the terror and adrenaline racing through her veins.
“Annie! Where the fuck are you, bitch!”
She shuddered at the sound of his voice, a voice that had tortured her every day for the last two plus years. Her heart was beating so fast it actually hurt in her chest.
“Woman, you better get your ass out here!”
Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, escaping the fright by pretending she was back at her father’s house in rural Georgia. In her mind, she could see it as plain as day, her running around barefoot, catching lightning bugs in the big backyard while her dad laughed, snapping pictures of her as she finally caught one and put it in a jar.
Another loud crash reverberated throughout the single story house, shaking her from her fantasy. Quinn could hear Travis’ heavy boots crunching over broken glass in the family room.
My daddy’s flag! He wouldn’t.
“When I find you Annie, you’re gonna regret the day you were born.”
Quinn curled up into a ball, tucking herself as far back under the bed as she could. She cringed at the sound of her old name. She hadn’t thought of herself as Annie since the day she decided she was going to leave her husband, building a new life in her mind. How had she ever thought that Travis was special? That he was a good man?
You saw what you wanted to see, Quinn.
She had wanted a reason to not go back to that tiny town in Georgia like all of her friends, stuck in the middle of nowhere. Travis was a way out and Quinn was stupid. She truly believed he would be her savior, a stand up man she could be proud of.
Instead, he’s most likely going to kill me someday.
The footsteps grew louder, her panic increasing with each step. Quinn could hear Travis in the nearby master bedroom, angrily tearing everything out of the closet in his mission to find her.
“Annie!”
The hot tears ran down her cheeks. Quinn wiped them away angrily, biting on her hand to muffle the sobs. She hated that Travis made her feel weak, made her feel afraid. The fact that he had this power over her made her sick. Travis controlled everything.
They lived in rural Texas, halfway between San Antonio and nothing. She didn’t have a car, a phone, or access to money. When her daddy died, she was left alone. She had no other family that would try to find her or worry about her. So much for leaving a small town, Quinn went from the middle of nowhere to the middle of “no one’s ever going to find your body because the nearest house is ten miles away”.
Alone. Always alone.
Right now, after living in hell for two years, Quinn would take alone any day of the week. If being with someone meant being with Travis? Alone sounded really really great.
“You bitch!”
The door to the guest bedroom slammed open, bouncing off the wall with a loud bang. Quinn trembled with fear, her teeth chattering together so loud she knew Travis had to be able to hear them.
His scuffed boots appeared in the doorway. Those goddamn boots. How many times had she been kicked by Travis’ beloved cowboy boots? Too many to count. The pointed toes were especially effective at breaking her ribs, not that she’d ever had them x-rayed to know for sure. Travis would never take her to the hospital, because then he’d be found out for the abusive piece of shit he was. Sometimes, Quinn fantasized about putting on those boots and kicking Travis repeatedly in the nuts.
The boots stopped right next to the bed. God, what she wouldn’t give for a knife right now. To sink it into his leg, hear him howl in pain. She could steal his keys and drive away, leaving his sorry ass behind. As stupid as Quinn thought he was, Travis was too smart to leave anything to chance. He kept every last sharp object locked up so she couldn’t plan anything devious.
Travis had to know she hated him. He could certainly see it in her eyes every time he looked at her. She couldn’t hide her disgust anymore. She didn’t want to hide it.
Quinn watched in horror as Travis bent down, his handsome face coming into view from her hiding place. Her pulse drummed wildly, beating so fast she was sure she’d have a heart attack right then and there.
“There you are. Y’all had me worried, darlin’,” he said in a sugary sweet voice.
