Texas True (The Tylers of Texas 1)

Natalie gave the dispatcher a description of the truck and the license plate number. Ending the call, she sank back against an overturned couch. Her head felt like a smashed melon. She needed to warn Beau, but the only number she had on speed dial was for the landline in the ranch office. The phone rang and rang without clicking over to voice mail. Something must be out of order. But even if she could leave a message, how likely was Beau to get it in time?

Using the couch for balance, she dragged herself to her feet and pulled up her jeans. She felt nauseous. If she could make it to the bathroom in the house, she could at least wash up. But what she really needed was to get out of here, to someplace safe.

Maybe she should have asked for an ambulance. But if she had, the whole town would know what had happened by tomorrow. Straining to focus, she speed-dialed the one friend who’d always been there for her.

Tori showed up fifteen minutes later to find Natalie still slumped on the floor. The first words out of her mouth were, “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Righting the couch, she helped Natalie sit. Then she raced into the house and came back with a bag of ice and a towel. “Hold this on your face,” she said. “We can talk on the way. I can’t believe that bastard raped you.”

“What about Erin?” Natalie managed to ask. “You mustn’t leave her alone. If Slade shows up there, looking for me—”

“I took Erin to the neighbors’. She’ll be fine, and the house is locked up tight.”

Just having her friend here made Natalie feel stronger. She walked to Tori’s station wagon on her own and buckled herself into the front seat. “Can you call Beau and warn him?” she asked.

“I don’t have his cell number. But there’s no need. I called the sheriff ’s office on my way here. Slade was picked up on a DUI charge. He was weaving all over the road. By the time you called nine-one-one, he was already on his way to jail. We can file domestic assault charges in the morning. You still want to, don’t you?”

“It’s not that I want to. It’s that I have to.” Natalie fought back waves of nausea. Her head felt like somebody had taken a jackhammer to her skull. She probably had a concussion. And she didn’t even want to think about the damage to her face. She could feel the swelling beneath the ice bag Tori had given her.

“This won’t be pleasant, so be prepared.” Tori had pulled into the street and was headed for the highway. “I’ll take some pictures of you in the hospital, as well as some photos of your clinic. The police will need to interview you and collect DNA for the rape kit—”

Natalie groaned. “Is that absolutely necessary?”

“You were unconscious. Slade’s lawyer could claim that somebody else happened along—or that you’d been with Beau earlier.”

Natalie lay back in the seat as the words sank in. Was spousal rape even a crime in Texas? If it was, and if it could be proven, Slade could go to prison, maybe for a long time. All she’d really wanted was her freedom.

This was a nightmare. But it was her nightmare, and she had to keep it that way.

“Beau had nothing to do with any of this,” she said. “Now that he’s not in danger, I don’t even want him to know what happened. He mustn’t be involved.”

“You can’t keep him in the dark forever,” Tori said. “Sooner or later, he’s going to find out.”

“But not yet. It’s for his own good. Promise you won’t tell him, Tori.”

“Not unless I have to.” Tori swung onto the highway and gunned the engine. The needle crept upward to seventy. “Slade’s likely to get out on bail. First thing tomorrow, I’ll get a restraining order to protect you. Do you want me to file for divorce while I’m at it? We have plenty of grounds for a good settlement now.”

“Yes, go ahead.” Natalie thought about the destruction of her clinic. The property and equipment were insured. But would the insurance company pay when the co-owner was responsible for the damage?

“Maybe you should stay with me for a few weeks,” Tori was saying, “or at least until you’re healed. I’ve got plenty of room and Erin would love having you there. Think about it, at least. You shouldn’t be alone at a time like this.”

“I’ll think about it. Thanks.” Natalie closed her eyes and pressed the ice bag against her face. The ice was starting to thaw, leaking down the side of her neck like a trail of melting tears. So many decisions. The list, if she made one, would be as long as her arm. Right now she was too exhausted to deal with the present, let alone the future. And she was in pain—so much pain that only one thing stood out with the clarity of a lightning bolt.

Tonight her life had changed forever.

Slade had returned to work the next afternoon. Bailed out of the county jail by Stella, he was sore, hungover, and in such a foul temper that Lute couldn’t go near him without cringing.

Lute had overheard enough to know that Slade had been charged with DUI and domestic assault and that he’d been served with a restraining order to keep him away from his wife, who was still in the hospital. His trial date was three weeks away.

Slade had come home to find the locks changed on the house and his clothes and other essentials boxed on the front porch. His pickup had been confiscated along with his driver’s license. He was sleeping on a cot in his office and dependent on his employees to drive him where he needed to go.

Until this week, Lute had admired Slade to the point of hero worship. But that view had changed. Now what Lute felt was a heady sense of power. It was his simple phone message that had triggered Slade’s drunken rampage and brought him down. And it had all been so easy.

Once Lute had aspired to be Slade’s right-hand man. Now he had bigger ambitions. Slade would be going to jail, maybe for a long time. Somebody else would be needed to manage the trucking company and do business with Stella’s so-called connections. Somebody Stella could trust. Why not him?

The three truckers Slade employed were family men who did local hauling—things like feed, machinery, and livestock. It was Slade, and only Slade, who did the Mexican runs. Whatever was going back and forth on those runs had to involve a lot of money—guns, drugs, maybe illegal immigrants. Lute was no fool. Having grown up in a family of lawbreakers, he knew what kind of things went on across the border. Given the chance, he could handle them just fine.

Plans were spinning in his head. He would shadow Slade for the next three weeks to learn everything he could about the business. Meanwhile, he’d be getting his trucker’s license so he could be ready to drive when the time came. And he would curry favor with Stella, letting her know she could trust him to step into Slade’s job.