Rich Love Read online

  Rich Love

  By Zoe Adams

  Rich Love

  Copyright © 2014 by Zoe Adams. All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: October 2014

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1502498557

  ISBN-10: 1502498553

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to the special

  love of my life Mike F.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 1

  Oh, Deer!

  It was a dark night to be driving. There were no streetlights along the road, and no lights of a city anywhere ahead. This part of the prairie was home to more wildlife than people, and its traffic adjusted accordingly.

  Every couple of miles a house could be seen in the distance, or beside the road. These were significant properties that maintained farms or ranches. The prairie had a minimal amount of men to do a maximum amount of work. Every few minutes a great square of light lit up the house, the yard, and the cars, before passing by.

  In a few miles, one of those properties would be Susanna’s, and she relaxed at the prospect. She knew exactly how far she still had to go. She had been carried along this road so many times that the stamp of familiarity made her slow down.

  Susanna liked to feel close to nature. The solitude that came with the prairie had been a welcome reprieve after moving here a few years ago from the city.

  Although she liked this place, she knew it was not for everyone. It seemed like even the builders of the road had been in a hurry to get out of this place of nothingness. The road went straight for as long as possible before giving into a turn on another low hilltop.

  The highway was a good road. The stripes along the edge and middle had just been re-painted, and light reflectors had been hammered into the ground. The beacons and mile markers were placed to keep a driver’s eye pinned to the road.

  If only animals knew of these rules.

  Susanna could remember driving down this road when the stars and moon had been so bright she could see herds of antelope, deer, and bison walking across the fields. During the day the grass feeding grounds were golden straw, but under a full moon at night the prairie would turn pale white. On a clear night the livestock and trees would make navy blue shadows.

  Tonight was an unusually dark night. Everything was tinged bluish black that made no difference between land and sky. Susanna felt otherworldly in such darkness.

  She looked for a break in the blackness. There had to be something to signify the landscape from the horizon. The road beyond the boundaries was cut off from light. It was like a whole other planet, being completely in darkness.

  Susanna knew it was just like every other place, where the livestock were in search of water. A deer could dart out in front of her headlights at any moment.

  It was a good thing she knew the prairie like the lightly freckled hand holding the steering wheel. Susanna’s foot let off the gas and coasted a little. Tonight, she could not see the creek bed she knew was only a hundred feet to her right. She visualized the muddy water that was a little haven of prairie on the land. Even without the usual brightness of the day or of the Milky Way, she was still close to the prairie.

  Susanna’s eyes were trained to the highway and looking for animals. She drove her old work truck carefully, and lowered the speedometer to splattering just fifty bugs per hour. She cracked open the window beside her, and a little more air was permitted to enter the rumbling coach.

  Traffic barely existed. Only occasionally headlights would appear, before passing a few short minutes later. Another low hill was crested, and a glance in the rearview mirror met the lights of a vehicle behind her. It was speeding, and moments later Susanna realized it was a motorcycle. The biker was completely oblivious of the wildlife crossings that were so common along this stretch of country.

  The bike was built to race the devil. Its rider was crouched low over the tank and moving fast when it passed Susanna. The biker gave a twist of the throttle, and the pass was complete without a courtesy blink.

  Pairs of beady, inhuman eyes appeared alongside the road. The trio of deer was a reluctant silhouette against headlights. Susanna reacted instinctively by jerking off her headlights and slamming her brakes to the floor.

  Loss of the bright headlights from her truck broke the deers’ trance. The first set of hooves jumped up and over the motorcycle in amazing grace. That doe escaped into the night, but where one deer successfully leads, another unfortunately follows. A freckled fawn tried to clear the open, churning wheel of the motorcycle. A singe, a low hiss, and groaning filled the once quiet road.

  The biker responded quickly. He let go of the motorcycle and pushed off with his feet. It was a graceful jump, and his body sailed through the air and away from the accident.

  The motorcycle and deer were both in for a bad ending, but for a fraction of a second the rider looked safe. He avoided the involvement of his motorcycle and nature by using his full body. He threw back his head and yelled. His inner core jerked him into a loose limbed and full body suspension.

  He had avoided burns from the motorcycle and blood from the deer, but he still had to endure meeting the asphalt road. His legs pumped back and forth in an effort to delay the landing. His feet couldn’t land him, and his body kept moving forward. He took two very large steps before rolling into the oncoming lane.

  The motorcycle, and the chosen deer, skidded to a tangled stop. The other few deer disappeared to some form of safety, and the night was handed back to the quiet sounds of nature.

  The bright lights from Susanna’s truck were back on the scene. Hastily jumping from the truck, she ran to the man lying face up in the road.

  “Are you all right?” She was on her knees, reaching for a wrist. The pulse was strong. In relief, she gently laid his hand back on the road. All of his limbs seemed to be intact, and there were no broken or haphazard angles.

  Susanna stared at her reflection which was visible in the dark helmet’s visor. She knew better than to remove his scratched headgear, or even move him at all. She loosened the straps under his chin, but left his helmet in place. The oxygen seemed to do him some good, because he groaned.

  Her voice raised an octave. “Hey! Are you all right?”

  A deep, baritone humpf was released in response. Susanna caught the smell of his breath. A leafy edge of booze laced around him. Her eyes roamed over his body again. His black leather coat looked brand new. The stiffness of it made him look smooth and tailored. He wore it well, like being fitted for was his style.

  She searched for damage and found some
. Along his leg the protective barrier of leather had lost one major portion to road rash. Hairy skin dripped berries of red, and a puddle was gathering on his leg.

  After careful consideration, she realized she had overreacted to the sight of his blood. It wasn’t a deep cut. It was just a large sized slice off the cheese grater.

  This was just another exciting day. Unusual or not, it was nothing a little work couldn’t cure. Susanna had the blood of pioneers running through her veins, and she was always prepared. Living in the middle of a no man’s land prairie was hard. As a member of the apparent weaker sex, all she could do was adapt to situations, and try to make them better.

  She stood up thoughtfully. The man would probably be fine. And what he couldn’t cure on his own, a doctor probably could. On the other hand, the deer would have to be put out of its misery.

  In a few long strides, she was back at her iron packhorse. The dome light and monotone beeps reassured her faith in reliability. Her truck was three years old, but for her, it was just getting broken in.

  Everything had a place in her truck. Usually, she didn’t need a lot of light to find what her hands and brain knew were there. She thought about the different firearms she kept in her truck. Rifle, shotgun, or pistol; sometimes that decision was the longest part of the process.

  She knew there were .44 caliber bullets already in the pistol, and that would be good enough. She reached for the cold metal handle of the gun. Thinking carefully about its raw power, she weighed it safely. Not all of her memories of her gun held happy thoughts, but they had been life-saving all the same.

  It was a sad demise to be the little deer that had crossed paths with the motorcycle rider. The driver had been going quite fast and could be defined as reckless. But the deer had been doing the same thing, and it could have jumped out in front of any car or motorcycle.

  There was nowhere to blame the accident, but just like any problem, it had to be dealt with. Problems on the prairie changed with the seasons, and Susanna didn’t believe in things being problematic for very long.

  The miserable fawn was still trying to straighten its twisted limbs. She could see its dark, glittery eyes pleading with the prairie. Just past the yellow lines of the road, thriving in the darkness, were the pond and his family. The deer just wanted to return to its home.

  Susanna walked past the deer that still tried to deny its unfortunate circumstances. Another close contact with a human being made its legs kick harder. A new fear was dawning in the deer’s eyes. It was a murky look, that didn’t know if it should fear her or its useless legs, as it pleaded for redemption.

  Susanna wasn’t going to give it that much time to wonder in confusion. She raised her arm slowly and took aim. The gunshot echoed across the plains. One shot and the deer’s pitiful eyes closed. Susanna didn’t flinch or recoil as she pulled the trigger. The deer’s crying stopped, and she felt a little better.

  She sighed and lowered the gun simultaneously. The black pistol was placed into its holster. Having the bump on her hip added a nice weight of protection.

  Susanna glanced at the biker. Seeing a man in the middle of the road was definitely out of place. He had moved his head at the sound of the gunshot. His body started to make little movements as he began to get his bearings.

  Susanna’s job was not over. She took the few steps toward the carcass. She picked up a warm hoof and began to pull it from the road. Her eyes were on the sky at the sound of fur and blood scraping the quiet morning. The gruesome task could not be achieved quickly enough, and she retched into the darkness. Another set of headlights showed way off in the distance.

  She rubbed her hands together and tried to erase the feel of death as she walked to her truck. She grabbed a jug of water and rinsed off her hands, then dried them on a paper towel. A little bottle of sanitizer was produced, and she rubbed her hands together carefully.

  She was back at the biker’s side. He was still shaken up.

  She looked at him cautiously. “Hey. Are you all right?”

  “What happened?” the man croaked.

  “You got hit by a deer.” Susanna softened her voice. “How do you feel?”

  The man took the question seriously, and a grim line set his lips in place. He was still wearing his helmet, and she wondered at his state of health, when she could only see half of his face.

  “Can you feel your legs?” she asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine.” He started to bend his knees.

  “How many fingers am I holding up?” The wind whispered hot sage breath across the prairie, and moved long strands of blonde hair in a billow around her face.

  “Two of the bluest eyes I have ever seen,” he drawled.

  “I know.” She waved her hand. “There are two, and they are blue.”

  She didn’t mean to rhyme or sound cute. Susanna knew she was beautiful, and it showed when she looked at him expectantly.

  “What are you doing out here?” He waved around at the prairie.

  “I live,” Susanna didn’t want to give him too many details, “around here.”

  “In a house?” His dark eyes blinked rapidly.

  He could have been telling her she looked like a bum, or an angel. There was something about him that filled every inch of his physique and placed him in another class.

  Susanna knew her jeans were worn around the pockets and hem, but there were no holes, and they still protected her long legs from the grasslands. The long sleeves of her cowboy shirt had worn thin, but it was still one of her favorite ones. Threadbare as it was, the shirt was more comfortable because of it.

  She looked at him with assurance. “Everything has a home.”

  The biker looked at her and ripped the helmet from his head. Even with him sitting in the middle of the road, Susanna had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes. She could not tell the difference between the pupil and iris. She stared into the saucers and wondered at the mystery of such big eyes that hid their depth.

  Distant headlights were coming upon them. The commuter had been slowing down as it neared the wreck.

  Susanna looked over her shoulder. The truck was slowly pulling past them to park in front of her vehicle. It wasn’t every day that she stood in the middle of the road and watched traffic go by. She looked down at the man in the road. It wasn’t every day that a good looking man fell down in front of her either. She took in his handsome features. He looked like a man who was used to having women swoon over him.

  She had been happily married then sadly widowed. She had found healing on the prairie, and it had honed her strengths. She knew she was attractive to men, but she kept a cool head.

  She had developed into a good combination of brains and brawn. If she couldn’t talk herself out of a confrontation, then she could walk her way out of one.

  Susanna hadn’t felt anything but sorrow for a man in a long time. She lived a sheltered existence, and because of that reason, it didn’t matter how desirable she was.

  It just hadn’t felt right, and she reasoned that she didn’t have time for a man. Right now, she was married to her ranch.

  The man stood up slowly and shook out his legs. When he finally straightened to his full height, Susanna caught her breath. Their eyes locked, and they stood there oblivious to the sounds of car doors slamming shut and footsteps approaching.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “I’m Susanna.” Her answer was short out of habit. She was not accustomed to losing her breath, and her throat closed.

  “You’re a farm girl.” A smile appeared on his face.

  Susanna shook her head in a big, fat negative. She noticed him lean in for a sniff of her scent. “No,” She didn’t move a muscle as she was compelled to defend herself. “I call it a farm, but it’s actually a ranch.”

  Susanna could see him mentally tabulating her score. He was forming his next question carefully. His wreck didn’t seem to slow down his mental or sexual status at all. She smiled at an inside joke and wondered if
he was always this contemplative, or if the accident had slowed him down.

  Susanna smiled, and the man seemed taken aback. She laughed at him and shook her head.

  “What’s your name?” she asked.

  “Royce Blackwater.” The name was out like a shot, like he was relieved to have a simple answer.

  “Those guys are looking at your motorcycle.” Susanna pointed over his shoulder.

  “That’s all right. They’re my friends,” Royce said, as if he couldn’t have cared less who was behind him.

  Susanna watched them curiously as they circled the bike and surveyed the damage. Royce appeared to want to regain her attention, and brought the conversation back around to himself.

  “They were following me across the state. I lost them a while ago.” He grinned at admitting his need for speed.

  “Well,” Susanna said in her slow Midwestern drawl, “it looks like the motorcycle won’t be leading the way anymore.”

  Royce stood beside her and watched the men push his toy. The tires were no longer spinning, and the men had to drag the motorcycle from the road.

  “That motorcycle can go to hell. I don’t want to go anywhere.” Royce looked around as if trying to gauge everything.

  Susanna watched the men work with a range of emotions flickering through her mind. Ramps were connected to the truck’s gate. The large truck’s bed was readied for the stretched metal frame of the motorcycle. The three men worked in unison, apparently oblivious of Royce.

  She turned to face Royce, and was surprised at how closely he was standing to her.

  Royce pulled out a smooth hip flask and raised it in a timeless salute. He handed the silver to her, and Susanna accepted with unflinching eye contact. She sniffed a quick puff of air that labeled the ingredients as whiskey. No other indulgence was needed at this time of day, and she handed the aromatic liquor back to its owner. He drank appreciatively, but never seemed to break contact with her.