Page 1 of Wanted by the Lawman

CHAPTER 1

WYNN MAKELTI PLATED the filet mignon, garlic encrusted potatoes, and roasted brussels sprouts onto the delicate bone china plates and took a step back to examine the presentation. Not bad. Not bad at all. Smoothing her hands down her red dress and checking her hair in the reflection of the oven door to make sure it was perfect as she sighed. At least she appeared fine. Reaching for the inhaler from her purse, she took two puffs, then grabbed the tray with the plates and made her way into the dining room. She never really liked the formal table that seated twelve, nor the large crystal chandelier, but there were some things a woman had to do to keep the peace…

“Something smells delicious, baby,” Rory slurred from the head of the table, setting his phone to the side, but not too far.

Wynn placed a plate in front of him and jumped when his hand snaked up under her dress. “Rory,” she shrieked. “You’re going to make me drop the plates.”

He laughed and swatted her bottom. Taking her place at the other end of the polished table, she remembered she’d forgotten to light the candles. Scurrying out of the chair and grabbing the lighter from the drawer of the antique buffet, she lit the wicks and returned to her seat as Rory poured himself another glass of wine. The hair on the back of her neck lifted and her stomach twisted. Wynn couldn’t tolerate another drunken meltdown, not today. He caught her gaze and a roll of his eyes warned her that he’d already had one too many.

“What is that look for?” he asked over the rim of his glass.

“I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” She did, but again, keeping the peace had become a job, and so had walking on eggshells when he’d had too much to drink.

Rory’s chuckle sounded like fingernails down a chalkboard. “That look of revulsion. Can’t we have one dinner without you judging me?” He emptied his glass in one gulp.

“Let’s eat before it gets cold.” Wynn picked up her knife and fork, cutting into the juicy steak. The meat was a little too raw for her taste, but Rory liked it still bleeding.

His ragged groan made her pause her fork in midair. “Not until you tell me what the problem is. I can feel your disappointment and it’s giving me indigestion.”

“Are you sure it’s not the alcohol?” she wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut. After having a rough day with her asthma, she didn’t feel like an argument that would end with nothing solved or gained except a headache.

One thing she’d learned over the last three years, Rory would make sure she was miserable until she finally gave in to whatever his fixation was at the moment. Last week it was her resistance to platinum blonde hair and Wynn didn’t hear the end of his complaining until she gave in and wore the wig. Laying the fork and knife to the side of her plate, she then clasped her hands together in her lap. Any response she gave him could send the night exploding into several different directions. “I just thought we had an agreement that you wouldn’t drink tonight.”

“I’m only having a couple of glasses, Wynn. A man who works hard wants to come home and relax. I should be allowed to without adjudication.”

“Fine. Then at least eat something.”

She jumped when his fists came down hard on the table, upsetting the dishes and sending his empty glass to the floor, shattering.

Although she’d come home from the doctor and slaved for two hours preparing the meal, she suddenly had a loss of appetite. Pushing her chair back and standing, she grabbed her untouched plate, not meeting his disparaging gaze and stepped through the swinging door into the kitchen. Dumping her meal into the sink, she switched on the garbage disposal and watched the food disappear into the drain to be ground into bits. This process seemed a lot like her life. For the last six months, she’d found herself helplessly descending into an invisible disposal to be ripped apart, little by little, until she was ground and sent into an abyss, never to surface again.

Turning off the switch to the disposal, his arm snaked around her waist and she squealed in surprise.

“Relax, baby. You’re a little uptight.” He nuzzled his nose in her hair.

“I guess I am.” And tired. Very tired.

“Let me see if I can help.” Rory seized her wrist, swung her around and pulled her hard against his chest. Physically hurting her wasn’t his way of doing things, but he often used scare tactics or manipulation to get his way when he was drunk, probably the same way he ran his company where he spent most of his time making money. He never could quite make enough.

Lately, she’d lost trust in him as he drank more.

“Come back to the table and sit down,” he urged.

“I’m no longer into this evening.”

“Maybe you just need a little persuasion.” He pulled back the curtain of her thick, synthetic curls and kissed her neck. She shivered and he stiffened.

Why didn’t she feel anything but revulsion? “Let me go.”

Several tense seconds passed until he finally released his hold while giving her a grin that made her skin crawl, but he didn’t step aside. He pressed her against the edge of the granite counter, caging her with his weight and his thick arms on each side of her. “Dinner wasn’t done.”

“I was though.”

“Not another one of these nights I hope.”

“Pardon?”

“Don’t play Miss Priss, sweetheart. You know I don’t like the attitude,” he snorted.

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