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Imperfect Bonds (Book 3 of the Imperfect Series)

By Elizabeth Noyes

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IMPERFECT BONDS

CHAPTER ONE

Thunderheads, dark as indigo, roiled over the western ridge, bruises against the tarnished silver sky. Cassie stared out the kitchen window at the churning cloud formations.
Sadeé sat on the floor at Cassie’s feet, shivering.
"It's okay, girl." A quick pat of reassurance did nothing to soothe the dog's uneasiness. Whoever heard of a fraidy-cat German shepherd?
Hefting her equipment bag over one shoulder, Cassie grabbed the small cooler by its handle and set off at a trot for the barn where the family kept their personal vehicles.
Sadeé kept reluctant pace, but her ears drooped and she kept her tail tucked firmly between her legs. Big baby. The slightest rumble of thunder usually sent her running to hide under the bed where she'd cower for hours. But here she was, braving the storm so she wouldn’t get left behind.
An earthy smell filled Cassie’s nostrils, the kind that heralded rain. Well, with a little bit of luck and a whole lot of hurry they might miss the worst of the weather since their path lay in the opposite direction from the storm’s track.
Lightning arced across the sky in a ragged zigzag that seemed to go on forever. After a brief count of four, thunder rumbled. Cassie stowed the cooler and equipment bag on the back seat of the Honda and opened the driver’s door.
The dog voiced her unease with a pathetic mewl, but jumped in and settled on the passenger seat, head lowered to her paws.
“Shhh,” Cassie admonished. A firm scratch behind Sadeé’s ears earned her a lick.
The wind whipped through the window as they turned south on Route 93. Long tendrils of hair swirled around her face. She should have taken time to put it up in a ponytail.
A few miles into the drive, KSRA, the local radio station, began to fade. She grabbed her purse from the floor, intending to get an update from the weather app on her cell.

No service.
“Are you kidding?” The phone made a clunking sound when she dropped it in the cup holder. “How is it NASA can take pictures of galaxies billions of light years away in space but the eggheads can’t figure out how to get cell reception in the mountains right here on Earth?”
People round these parts kept both feet firmly entrenched in the past, and liked it that way. How had she forgotten? Nothing had changed. Probably never would. “Next time, I’m bringing my iPod.”
Gentle doggy snores filled the silence.
Fifty or so miles to go, most of it through a series of long desert-like basins sandwiched between the rugged peaks of the Lost River Valley Mountain Range.
With nothing to distract her, Cassie’s thoughts turned to the eight weeks of summer ahead. Two months of self-imposed vacation to get through. She didn’t regret, not for a moment, coming back for her brother, Garrett’s, wedding, or agreeing to help her friend, Lucy, with her shoulder rehab. A respite after seven straight years of school before she started a new job had sounded beneficial. The reality was something else. Too many long, empty hours filled her days. All because of the strained relationship with her twin sister and a family that tiptoed around them.
And then there was the too-sexy-for-his-own-good deputy who seemed to think she should fall at his feet whenever he beckoned. Ha, in his dreams.
No wonder she’d jumped at this opportunity to work with one of Doc Burdette’s patients. “Who said physical therapy jobs don’t exist in rural America. I can see it now—Have Medicine Ball Will Travel. Just like the circuit-riding preachers of the past.”
Sadeé opened her eyes and rolled them sideways to stare at Cassie.
She could survive anything for one summer, but September couldn’t get here soon enough. Doctor Wilkes, the orthopedist who’d performed Lucy’s shoulder surgery, had offered her an interview with his group. The thought of working for such a prestigious practice set her heart racing. She’d finally have a real job with a paycheck she earned. No more living off the dividends from the ranch’s profits. Of course, it meant moving to someplace like Idaho Falls. Maybe even Pocatello or Boise. Or even out of state. Far away from the ranch and her family, but that was her dream. Right?
Beside her, Sadeé shifted on the seat.
She smiled at the snoozing animal. Her summer stay had brought her Sadeé.
The rain fell harder now, and pelted her arm through the open window. She pressed the button to raise the glass. The locals called this stretch of road through the canyons No Man’s Land, and for good reason—no radio, no cell phone service, no stores, no houses, no gas stations, and no people. Nothing but milkwort, sagebrush, greasewood, shadscale, dirt, and rocks.
Lots of rocks.
The only signs of civilization out here were the rough pavement, a parade of telephone poles, a few road signs, and an occasional billboard.
Midway through the first valley, the rain stopped as though someone had pressed the off button. The sky began to clear. A lone eagle soared on the air currents. Three coyotes skulked through the brush.
This place was nothing like Hotlanta.
She snorted at the comparison. The Beaumont Orthopedic Group where she’d interned in Atlanta before coming home for the wedding had given Cassie a wealth of practical experience, but also some much needed savoir-faire. But at what cost? Life in the southern megalopolis had changed her, taught her caution and suspicion. Had it also made her less tolerant of rural life?
It took only a second of pondering to reject the idea. She’d had a blast in Atlanta, even after her despicable brothers had sicced an over-protective deputy on her. But Idaho was home. Would always be home.
Okay, maybe Jonas and Wade weren’t despicable, but they definitely had control issues. As did Deputy Derek Naughton, hot stuff extraordinaire.
As happened all too often of late, the former Navy SEAL from Texas turned small-town Idaho police officer commandeered her thoughts. Derek had followed her to Atlanta, presumably at the behest of her brothers because she’d crossed paths with the madman who’d hurt Lucy. It didn’t matter that Cassie wasn’t his target. Derek took his self-appointed guardian angel role to heart.
Ha. The man had mastered the fine art of arrogance, bossiness, and seduction. There was absolutely nothing remotely angelic about Derek. He’d even had the audacity to hang out in the Beaumont Clinic’s waiting room while she worked, for Pete’s sake. How embarrassing. And then he'd insisted on moving into her apartment.
“Somebody’s got to watch over you,” he’d claimed.
And like a fool, she'd let him stay.
They’d watched television, done laundry, cooked meals, cleaned, and even grocery shopped together, just like an old married couple. She couldn’t go anywhere without his size fourteen boots stepping on her shadow.
But a man who cooked and cleaned couldn't be all bad, could he?
A smile hovered on her lips. An old married couple, but without any of the side benefits. Not that Derek didn’t try. He’d indicated his attraction to her over and over. She just wasn’t interested.
Okay, that was a lie. Perhaps unwilling might be a better word since Mr. No Commitment made it clear after the one scorching kiss they’d shared last summer that any relationship with him had a limited shelf life.
Nope, an expiration date with Derek wasn’t enough. She wanted more than a fling. For a short time she’d thought—hoped—he might want more, too, but then they’d come home and he’d disappeared for a month without a word.
“Got something to take care back home in Texas,” was his excuse. Now he’d returned without explanation and a ton of secrets in those naughty green eyes. And tons of criticism for her.
She shrugged. His loss. Dead-end Derek didn’t fit her long term plans anyway.
Up ahead the canyon narrowed. She slowed to negotiate the pass, delighted to see the sunlight glitter on exposed threads of dolomite, quartz, and amethyst on the slopes of the mountains. How could she have forgotten the rugged beauty of this land?
Ahead in the distance, she spotted a vehicle on the northbound side of the road. A little farther and she could make out a forest green GMC pickup. A big one. Jacked high. Shiny, too, like it came straight off the showroom floor. A man knelt near the rear wheel while a second man stood off to the side. Tough place to break down.
Should she stop and offer help? The idea of a woman alone, stopping for two men out in the middle of nowhere made her balk. No doubt her new wariness came courtesy of big city life. But the unwritten law of the land out here required a person to stop. Leaving someone stranded in a desolate area often meant life or death in the old days. Maybe if she slowed, kept the doors locked, and offered to send help. Yeah, a much better idea.
Cassie hit the lock button and lowered the driver’s window no more than two inches. A second thought had her reaching under the driver’s seat for the assurance of the small wooden box hidden there.
When the speed dropped, Sadeé scrambled to a sitting position. Panting, ears perked, she zeroed in on the two men.
The guy changing the tire didn’t bother to look up when Cassie stopped alongside. The sleeveless undershirt he wore revealed a sinewy physique with a serpent tattoo coiled around the length of his left arm.
The other guy strutted over to her car with a smirk. His gray t-shirt strained over a beer gut, and needed a good scrubbing. Splotches of what might have been breakfast or remnants from last night’s dinner stained the front.
Cassie raised her chin and spoke through the narrow window opening. “Need help?”
A ham-like forearm leaned against her window. “Well, hello, pretty lady. Thanks for stopping.” Dirty Shirt had a surprisingly high voice for such a large man.
The low, menacing grumble from Sadeé accentuated the alarms already clanging in Cassie’s head. She might not be a genius like her sister, Mallory, but she knew trouble when it stared her in the face. “No problem. I’ll call roadside assistance for you when I get to where I’m going.”
“Nah. If you could help us out, we won’t need them. Maybe you could hold the lug nuts while we get the spare on. Whaddya say?” He reached for her door handle.
Was he kidding? A flat tire did not require three people to fix. Did he really think she’d fall for a line like that?
Sadeé went from sitting on the seat to lunging across Cassie’s lap when Dirty Shirt yanked on the door handle. Front paws braced on the window. Teeth bared. Perfect manners gone.
Dirty Shirt jumped back and let loose a string of foul words.
“Billy, leave the girl alone,” the other man shouted. He hefted the spare out of the truck bed and let it drop to the ground to bounce a few times. “We don’t have time for your games.”
Dirty Shirt—Billy—glared at his friend.
“Sit.” Cassie tugged on the shepherd’s collar and tried hard not to grin. Thunder might make Sadeé whimper, but she’d eat this guy for lunch.
Her humor fled at the sight of Billy’s clenched fists and furious face.
“Cut the crap and get over here,” the man with the snake tat yelled again. “You forget we got a deadline?”
“Looks like your friend has everything under control.” Cassie waggled her fingers. “Good luck.”
“Hold on a sec.” Billy removed a ball cap that had seen better days, wiped his forehead on a sleeve, and reseated the hat in a visible effort to control his anger. Sadeé had scared him. Men viewed fear as a weakness. And Billy didn’t like looking the fool. “I see you got a cooler in the back. Maybe you got something cold you could share? A man can work up a sweat out in this heat.”
She’d brought several bottles of Rocks Natural Spring Water, but wasn’t stupid enough to lower her window to pass one through. These guys could tough it out until they reached a store where they could buy their own. “It’s empty. Sorry.”
“Why are you in such a hurry to leave? What’s your name, sweetheart?” His fingers clamped onto the top of the window.
“Got to go. Good luck with the tire.”
Billy slammed a fist against her glass.
Sadeé snarled again.
“I got your tag number, just so you know.” Billy yelled after her, adding a nasty, derogatory name. “I can find you.”
Fury lit her up. Bullies used their size to intimidate and inflict fear, but Billy-boy had chosen the wrong victim today.
Several yards past their truck she stopped the car on a slight rise and grabbed her cell phone. Opening the camera app, she lowered her window and leaned out. Click. A quick picture captured the profiles of the two men.
They looked up in surprise.
Click. Click. She added a frontal view and a clear picture of the truck and its license plate.
“Hey,” the guy working the flat tire shouted. He shook his fist.
“You can’t do that.” Billy sprinted toward her.
She didn’t wait for him. With head shots and their license number safely stored, Billy’s veiled threat held no power.
Once Sadeé settled down again, Cassie pushed the encounter with the two goons from her mind. She refused to let those two lowlifes spoil the rest of her day. Her thoughts turned instead to her new patient, Coot Harbins. An older man with a farm to run, Doc said he might not be inclined to pursue physical therapy, even if it came to him.
The miles passed in a daze until sometime later, a flash in the rearview mirror—sunlight on chrome—caught her eye. Another traveler at last. Other than Billy and his bud, this was the only vehicle she’d seen.
Another glance in the mirror a few minutes later showed the blip had drawn a lot closer. She checked her speedometer. Nobody paid attention to the speed limits, especially out here where the road never curved, but this guy seemed bent on breaking the sound barrier.
Squinting, she could just make out the dark shape of a truck. Not one of those miniature toy-sized pickups like her sister drove, either.
With an eye on rearview mirror, she almost missed the road sign that flashed by on the right. Trail Creek Road. The turnoff to the Harbins Farm. Two more miles.
The vehicle behind her drew closer and closer.
She could make out the details now. A jacked up GMC. Dark green. Why would Billy and his friend chase after her? They’d been heading north. And the tattooed guy had mentioned a deadline.
Her imagination took flight, envisioning every heinous crime ever printed in the newspapers. She pressed harder on the accelerator and ignored the rattles her car made. The little town of Mackay lay only a few miles beyond the turnoff. Should she head there instead? They had a police department. If she could find it.
The gap between the vehicles closed even more until she could make out the features of the driver and passenger. Billy and his friend.
Fear left her mouth dry. “C’mon.” She had the gas pedal pressed to the floor, knowing her Honda V-6 couldn’t outrun the Sierra 2500 hemi. Her heart pounded like a million-man march. At this rate, they’d catch her before she even made it to Trail Creek Road, much less to town.
A mile screamed by. The truck gained until it was almost kissing her bumper.
“Not good. Not good.” The two words spilled from her lips in a chant.
Movement in the side-view mirror drew her eye. The green truck had moved into the oncoming lane and was inching up alongside her. Less than a foot separated the two vehicles.
On instinct, she jerked the wheel left.
The driver braked and swerved, but not in time to avoid the scrape of metal on metal.
Cassie never let up on the accelerator.
Sadeé stumbled against the door before righting her stance.
“Down, Sadeé. Stay,” Cassie yelled. She made a mental promise to look into some kind of safety restraint for the dog when they got out of this mess. If they got out of it.
The dog obeyed.
Trail Creek Road came into sight. They’d be on her in a blink when she slowed for the turn. Better than making a run for town. She couldn’t keep this up all the way into Mackay.
The green truck surged forward.
Oh Lord, here they come again. What if they have a gun?
A hard yank on the wheel moved the Honda to straddle the center line. She weaved back and forth a few feet each way to keep them at bay.
The guy in the undershirt didn’t back off this time. He zipped over onto the shoulder and gunned it.
Her turn drew closer … closer …. “Please let this work.”
Waiting until the last possible moment, Cassie slammed on the brakes and prayed Sadeé wouldn’t be hurt.
The green truck flew past like a stone from a slingshot.
The Honda slewed sideways. Tires screamed. The smell of burning rubber filled the air, but she made the turn.
The momentum threw Sadeé onto the floorboard. She yelped, but scrambled back onto the seat.
Amazing, her cell phone didn’t fly out of in the cup holder. She grabbed it. Still no service. “Agh.”
Was it the pictures? Is that why they came after her like this?
Reaching down, she retrieved the wooden box from under the seat and set it on the center console. A quick one-handed snick opened the case. Her brother, Garrett, had chosen the Smith & Wesson .38 special for her smaller hand. Locked and loaded, all she had to do was thumb off the safety, point, and squeeze.
Her sweaty palms lost their grip on the steering wheel for a second when she turned at the Welcome to Harbins Farm, Quality Seed Potatoes sign.
The long dirt road ran between lush potato fields for perhaps a quarter-mile. A white clapboard farmhouse sat at the far end like a shining beacon. She glanced in the rearview mirror again and inhaled a harsh breath.
The green truck had turned onto the lane behind her.

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