Page 1 of Lone Star Country Protector
Chapter One
“Good game tonight, buddy,” Blakely Adamson said with a smile. Her seven-year-old nephew beamed back at her from the back seat, his excitement barely contained.
“I never did that before,” he said of his first goal. He’d been kicking the back of her seat for ten minutes, reenacting the game-winning score. Out of nowhere, his mood shifted, the moment of jubilee darkened and his shoulders rounded as he exhaled.
“What’s wrong?” Blakely asked, checking on him through the rearview mirror.
“It didn’t feel so good when it made the goalie cry,” Chase explained, shaking his head with the most somber expression. He had a sensitive side that restored her hope in humanity. The world needed more Chases.
“Remember how you gave him a hug?” she gently reminded. “And asked him over for a playdate after telling him it’s just a game?”
Chase’s smile came back. Kids’ emotions were a roller coaster, but they were also pure. “That made him happy again.”
“Yes, it did,” she agreed. To be seven years old again and so innocent, unlike the grownups she sentenced to prison terms because they didn’t know how to play nice anymore.
“Games are s’posed to be fun,” Chase pointed out as shepulled into her neighborhood. It was dark outside; the season was over now that the final playoff game had been decided.
“I know, buddy,” Blakely said. He wasn’t wrong.
“I don’t want to play soccer again,” Chase decided.
“Your mom and dad said it’s your decision now that you finished the season,” she said as she pulled onto her quiet street in the sleepy suburb just outside of the hustle and bustle of Houston. The peace was one of the things she loved most about this neighborhood. That, and the large shrub-lined front yards.
This was a quiet area. Dog walkers were out in the early mornings, always quick with a wave and a smile as she passed by on her drive to work. She didn’t know her neighbors well, but someone always hosted a gathering around the holidays. The moms usually hung together, discussing the local school and teachers while arranging carpools and playdates. The few singles in attendance normally kept close to the food spread or bar setup. Blakely’s fraternal twin sister, who also happened to be Chase’s mom, would fit right in with the former.
Blakely, on the other hand, would rather nurse a drink while trying to blend in with the wallpaper. She wasn’t the social twin. After a long, busy workweek, she much preferred a warm bath, a good book and an even better glass of wine. Unless Chase was sleeping over, like tonight. Then, it was tent forts, Nerf wars and a bone-tired level of exhaustion by the time he finally passed out. As much as she loved having her nephew sleep over, she didn’t once dream of becoming a mother. If that made her broken, it was too bad. She had a four-inch scar at her hairline on her forehead to remind her that she didn’t do long-term relationships either.
Chase sighed like he’d just been asked to solve theclimate crisis. “I know.” He sat up even straighter. He’d clearly been contemplating her last statement. “My team needs me.”
“I’m sure your friends will understand if you decide not to return,” she noted. Her experience with first graders might be limited, but most had the attention span of a gnat, off to the next shiny object in a second without looking back. If they were sad, you knew it. If they were happy, you knew it. She highly doubted any one of them lay awake at night, churning over whether they gave the right answer on a test or the right advice to a buddy, let alone whether their friend stayed on the soccer team.
What would it be like to live in the moment again like kids did so effortlessly?
Blakely couldn’t imagine.
A bag of leaves that the landscaper had set out for bulky trash pickup blocked her driveway entrance. Another had been knocked over by the wind, its contents spilled onto the drive. Blakely kept her lights trained on the driveway as she put the gearshift in Park, leaving the engine idling. She’d only be ducking out for a second, so she wasn’t worried. Force of habit had her surveying the area anyway.
No movement caught her eye, so she hopped out of the driver’s seat, leaving the door wide open in the event she needed to reclaim her seat in a hurry. “Stay here, buddy. I’ll be back in a second.”
Chase nodded before picking up his Switch and turning his attention to the screen and the Super Mario game whose music she could hum from memory. Needless to say, it was his favorite.
Leaves were strewn in a thick blanket in front of her, but she could deal with that later. Tall trees were one of many things she loved about living here. The HOA rules stated leaves had to be picked up in a timely manner, thoughher neighbors had never complained about hers to her knowledge.
Blakely bent over to set the bag upright when she glanced back to check on Chase and, once again, scan the area. Her Krav Maga training had taught her to always be observant of her surroundings. But then, so had the reason behind the scar on her forehead.
A split second was all it took for Blakely to pick up the bag to use as a landing for the sharp blade coming at her. A ski-mask-wearing male flew through the air, causing her to scramble backward.
Blakely pushed the bag toward Ski Mask as he slammed into it, thrusting the knife deep into the brown paper. Her headlights practically blinded her as she attempted to twist the heavy bag in order to flip Ski Mask sideways.
The move knocked her off-balance instead as he turned with momentum, pulling her with him. Panic ripped through her. Screaming would only alert Chase, who’d been glued to the screen in the back seat. She could hear the music from his Switch as she landed on her side, her head bouncing on the pavement.
Would Ski Mask run toward Chase if he realized the kid was in the car? Take him?
“What do you want?” Blakely managed to grind out. She couldn’t get a good visual on his facial features. With him wearing all black along with a hoodie, she couldn’t get a decent physical description either. Could she rip the mask off?
“You!” The voice wasn’t familiar, but then it was practically a feral growl. Nothing about it sounded human. That one word spoken directly into her ear sent ripples of fear through her. All hope this was going to be a random mugging vanished. As strange as that may sound, it was better than the alternatives.
Fear that she was about to be killed in front of her nephew—and then what would happen to him?—was a punch to the solar plexus. Like prey in the jaws of an alligator, Blakely drew on all her strength to spin out of Ski Mask’s grip.
