Trust Me by Ella Sheridan Southern Nights #2
Publication Date: 1 February 2015
Genres: Romance, Suspense
A woman on a mission…
Maddie Baker spent four years seeking vengeance against the man whose abuse destroyed her life. That search has led her to a small town outside Atlanta and a missing teenage girl. Nothing will stand in the way of her mission, including a jackass of an ex-soldier who reawakens emotions best left to die.
A man on the hunt…
Jack Quinn learned to recognize trouble in the marines, and he sees it in Maddie the minute he lays eyes on her tending bar. Her secrets are hidden deep, but secrets are his specialty, and peeling away her barriers only makes him want her more. He’ll do whatever it takes to get her to trust him with her body and her heart.
An old threat whose time has come…
Staying hidden kept Maddie safe, but the search for justice will bring her into the open and face-to-face with her treacherous past. Risking her life is one thing, but risking her heart is another. In love and in danger, she must trust Jack to lead her—and pray they both come out alive.
“Wow, Maddie.
Heard you broke a nose tonight.” Taylor was laughing so hard the last word
ended in a snort. Several moments passed as she fought to get herself under
control. “Three days. You know the record is two weeks, right?”
There’s a
record? Maddie glanced at the waitress as she leaned on the bar, elbows planted
on either side of her serving tray, abundant chest still shaking with continued
giggles. Taylor’s friendly grin begged Maddie to share it, to come out of the
emotionless cocoon she’d lived in for so long, but she didn’t dare, not really.
She’d already taken too many risks tonight.
Instead she
pulled on the mask that earned her tips and hid her real self. The happy
bartender, she called it. An easy smile, sympathetic eyes. Only with the mask
firmly in place could she finally breathe, knowing she was safe from prying
eyes, that her emotions were hidden away where no one else could see them, use
them against her.
She shrugged one
shoulder, a plastic smile glued to her lips. “I’m trying to get a jump on
fitting in,” she said. No one could know how true that was.
But Taylor
wasn’t buying it. Her brow creased, something soft and almost caring suffusing
her expression. “You okay?”
“Of course.”
“Of course,” the
other woman repeated, her words gently mocking. “I’m serious. You weren’t hurt,
were you?”
Jesus, these
people saw too much. Maddie blinked, the second it took to slide her eyelids
down and up just enough to force reassurance into her voice. “No, I’m fine.
Seriously.”
It was true,
after all. She hadn’t been hurt; she’d been the one hurting someone else. That
fact should horrify her, but it wasn’t horror churning in her gut, and
certainly not over Bernie. No trace of remorse, either; just a deep, dark sense
of satisfaction every time that moment played through her memory: crunching
cartilage, spraying blood, Bernie’s loud bellow of pain.
A sadistic
bitch, that’s what you are, Maddie.
This time her
shrug was mental.
Taylor,
oblivious to Maddie’s internal gestures, glanced over her shoulder. Maddie
followed the look, and, unwanted, her gaze settled on Jack, his brooding eyes
staring straight back at her, laser focus tightening every last nerve ending in
her body as he walked past. He didn’t pause. His eyes held hers as long as they
could, and then he was striding through the table area, the view of his broad
back and shoulders filling the void he left behind.
Above his shirt
collar, his short, military-style black hair ended in a crisp horizontal line.
No stubble, no nonsense. Kind of like his attitude. He had to be a cop, or
maybe a soldier. She didn’t care what he did, exactly; her instincts told her
all she needed to know: he was trouble. Even his easy posture was a warning
sign. The man didn’t strut, didn’t hesitate. He knew he was a badass, and
everyone else knew it too. He didn’t have to prove his badassness by forcing it
down anyone’s throat—except hers, apparently.
Jackass. The man
infuriated her.
It wasn’t until
the front doors banged shut behind him that she was able to pull her attention
back to work. Taylor’s amused expression was waiting.
“Why, whatever
did you say to make him look at you like that?” the waitress asked, her long
eyelashes batting coyly in a perfect Scarlett O’Hara impression.
“Like what?”
“Like he doesn’t
know whether to tie you up and spank you or kiss you senseless.”
“I think that’s
suspicion, not lust.” She flicked her fingers toward the front door. “What is
he, the bar police?”
Taylor shook her
head. “Nah, he owns some company in Atlanta, something to do with finances,
maybe? Ex-military.” Her expression turned dreamy. “That’s where all the
muscles came from. God bless the armed forces is all I can say.”
Maddie wondered
if the poor woman would start to drool next. “Yeah, well, muscles or not, I
still beat him to the punch. Literally.”
About Ella Sheridan
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