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  Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,

  Hartwood Publishing, Phoenix, Arizona

  www.hartwoodpublishing.com

  Barbara’s Redemption

  Copyright © 2016 by Diane Saxon

  Digital Release: June 2016

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Barbara’s Redemption by Diane Saxon

  Black Hawk pilot Captain Barbara Lynn Perry is running scared. Witness to an event too horrible to think about and too dangerous to talk of, she finds herself alienated from a world she has always had faith in.

  With her Special Forces brother missing, she has only one other person to turn to. When her friend Flynn Swann isn’t available, Barbara is left with no choice but to trust the man Flynn sends to save her.

  Psychiatrist Dominic Salter’s information from her superior officer’s file is that Barbara has gone rogue. Despite the damning evidence, every instinct tells him he’s dealing with an honorable woman, one who single-handedly saved Flynn from torture and a sure death. Dominic’s challenge is to delve his way beneath her tough, defensive attitude and coax the truth from a woman who’s too frightened to reveal her dark secret.

  In his brand new facility containing a state of the art Dreampsych Transcender he’s experimenting with, a machine far beyond a simulator, Dominic has to gain the trust and confidence of Barbara while he resists the hard pull of attraction to this kick-ass woman.

  Betrayed by a member of his staff, events take a sinister turn, and the pressure is on in a fight against time for Dominic to persuade Barbara to put her trust in him and reveal the truth before matters are taken out of his hands.

  Dedication

  To Barbara Lynn Perry who wanted to be a kick-ass female and never wanted to be called Barbie.

  For her unwavering faith in me, thank you, Margaret.

  As always to Andy, Laura, and Meghan. Thank you for your support.

  Chapter One

  She raised a shaky hand to rub her fingertips over taut lips and tried to swallow, but her tongue was too thick to allow it, her mouth too dry to comply. She held the same hand horizontally in front of her face and watched the vague tremble. The tremor that threatened her sharp shot. The shake that no longer allowed her to pick up a glass of whiskey without being a dead giveaway.

  She needed help.

  Flynn.

  Flynn could help.

  She’d saved his life, goddammit. Of course he would help.

  So she waited in the silent twilight for Flynn to come.

  Pitch black descended and still no sign of the man. So dark she could no longer see the trembling hand in front of her face, but the sweat still formed in the creases along her palm, making her hand slip as she tightened her grip on the gun. She swapped it over from right to left while she rubbed the damp onto the leg of her black yoga pants. It made no difference, she could shoot as well with one hand as the other. Not that she could see to shoot, but she hadn’t imagined for one moment Flynn would have kept her waiting this long, and dark would close in before he arrived.

  She’d hunkered down in the comfort of the straw, her mind filled with visions of blood and gunshots while night descended faster than she’d realized.

  She’d kept Flynn waiting three nights previously. God only knew how long he’d waited for her, but she’d listened to her sixth sense, believed someone else was there at the meeting point, and she’d hightailed it out of there, leaving Flynn to his own devices. He was still a tough cookie. No point in her hanging around to save him. She’d already saved his sorry ass once before.

  The dim light of the stables flickered on and filled the place with a dull buzzing sound. Cautious, she straightened and moved toward her target. The cowboy seemed to be the right height, but it looked like Flynn had gone to seed since leaving the Special Forces three years earlier. She’d heard rumors he hadn’t coped well with civilian life. Probably more to do with having half his face carved up. She twitched her nose in distaste. The voices of the men who had tortured him filled her head, the vicious sound of their hyena cackles as they cut Flynn with glee. It hadn’t been the prettiest of sights, but she’d seen worse. She’d even killed men herself, but never for fun. Only out of necessity, duty, and a desperate desire to live.

  It was the pleasure they’d taken out of torturing a man that had turned her stomach. Not that anyone knew. She’d die before she allowed anyone to see her weakness. It looked like she may have to, after recent events. She’d thought she’d never witness anything worse than Flynn’s torture. But she had.

  She closed her eyes and took a moment to control her pulse rate before she stepped forward.

  The cowboy turned, staggered slightly in the dead giveaway of a drunken sidestep, and smiled broad and sloppy as his unfocused gaze met hers. Drawing in a deep, slow breath, she realized her mistake. It wasn’t Flynn.

  With no other option, Barbara tucked her gun into the back of her pants. It was a mistake she would never have made a month ago. One that under any other circumstances would have cost her life. Lucky for her, it was only some piss head in her way.

  “Hey.” Loose-limbed, she stepped forward, a deliberate wide smile in place. “I’m looking for Flynn. Is he here?”

  Confusion flitted across the man’s face, his brows pulled down in an exaggerated drunken frown.

  “He’s a dipshit.”

  Surprise at his viciousness stopped her advance as the man swayed, took two clumsy steps to his left before he gained his balance, and stood swaying before her. His thin lips twisted, bitter and angry.

  “You’re not his girl. His girl’s a fuckin’ little bitch. Lost me my job and had me arrested.”

  With barely a twitch of her eyebrow, Barbara skimmed her gaze over him. Nasty little fucker. Reminded her of her mother’s boyfriend. Several of her mother’s boyfriends. But one in particular had been a mean son of a bitch. He’d slapped her around plenty, until her mother had caught him and almost pulled his hair out by the roots. Her mother may have had scores of men come and go after Barbara’s father’s death, but she never let a single one mess with her daughter.

  Barbara narrowed her eyes at him, never flinched as the horse behind her snorted and stamped impatiently in its stall. All her concentration centered on the drunk. She’d learned long ago with hard lessons not to take her gaze off the threat. This guy was definitely a threat.

  “No, I’m not his girl. Have you seen him?”

  He rubbed his hand over his lips, sly gaze darting sideways. “I heard he left with the slut.”

  Muscles tense, Barbara felt the sick slide of dread. “Where’d he go?”

  “New Zealand. They were talking about it in the jailhouse.”

  “Who?”

  “The fucking sheriff and his fucking deputies.”

  “What were you doing there?” She wasn’t interested, but she could see him lowe
ring his guard as they chatted. She never lowered hers. That’s what got you killed.

  The guy turned his head and spat into the hay and then sneered at her. “Mistaken identity.” He held up a hand with fingers swathed in bandages.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Flynn’s bitch said I went after her. It was her who attacked me and broke my fucking little finger.”

  She repressed the desire to smile. She hadn’t much to smile about, but it seemed as though Flynn could have met his match after all.

  “Stupid fuckers let my wife bail me out.”

  Barbara couldn’t stop the blink of surprise. He had a wife? Poor woman.

  “She’s my ex-wife.” His mean eyes flickered down. “She just wants rid of me.”

  She could imagine why.

  Barbara watched as he skimmed his bloodshot gaze over her, recognized the lascivious leer, and knew instinctively she wasn’t simply going to walk away from their encounter. “So, what are your plans?”

  “Fuckers took my gun, but I had another one they didn’t know about at my stupid fucking wife’s house. She didn’t even know it was there. I’m going to take me a horse and ride out of here, and no one is going to stop me.”

  She stepped back and spread her arms wide for him to carry on. “I wouldn’t want to try.”

  He took a small, stumbling step forward and then lurched at her. Little shit, she never quite saw him coming. She’d somehow thought he would have a little more finesse. His body slammed into hers, and she realized what she’d thought was fat was one hell of a lot of solid muscle bound tightly in that fat.

  As he took her down, she allowed her body to go loose. She anticipated the fast whoosh of air that expelled from her lungs, but his weight was a little harder and heavier than she had expected. Winded, she lay still for a long moment. By the time she recovered, he had her breast in his hand, squeezing it tightly. Pain and indignation radiated through her, but as she tried to move, he slung his leg over both of hers to pin her to the ground. The metal buckle on his belt dug hard into the flesh of her belly, and as she wriggled in the straw, the slide of it cut in deeper. The solid press of her own gun into her spine had her stilling.

  The guy was an idiot; sometimes they just made it too easy by underestimating her. She may only be five feet four inches, but she was a trained soldier, goddammit.

  With a weary sigh, she gave her head a disgusted shake and tightened her lips as she slipped his gun from his hip holster and held it against his temple before he could take another drunken grunt. She pulled back the hammer and met the surprise in his rheumy eyes. There was barely a tremor in her grip as her finger softened against the trigger. No need to terminate him, provided he was reasonable.

  Bastard.

  The quiet snick of metal stopped her mid thought.

  “Take the gun away from Buddy’s head.” Mellow Irish tones reasoned with her from behind her head.

  She held it firm, never so much as twitched.

  The silver glint of a gun slid into her peripheral vision and kicked up her pulse.

  “I’ve got him covered, Barbara, you can remove your gun.” Her name from the unfamiliar Irish voice had her hesitating.

  The sour smell of whiskey puffed over her skin, and the bloated face of the drunk still lying on top of her gave her a moment’s pause. She could have simply immobilized him and left him writhing in agony on the floor by twisting his already broken finger, or she could blow his brains out, the stupid fuck.

  It wouldn’t have bothered her.

  Sweat slicked on the handle of the gun to make a liar of her. Who was she trying to kid? It was never a choice she’d make to deliberately take a life. He may be stupid, but he was no longer a threat.

  “Barbara. Are you listening to me?” She had no option. The soft voice had a lovely lilt, even as the owner of it nudged the muzzle of his gun once more into her vision as if she were a child who needed to be reminded of his presence.

  She relaxed her finger, released the hammer with a click, and drew in a purifying breath.

  A hot gush of wet spread across her lower regions and soaked through her pants at the same time as the acrid scent of urine filled her nostrils. She curled her lip with revulsion and stared into the puffy eyes of the man above her as terror paralyzed his bladder and he pissed all over her.

  “You cowardly bastard.”

  In a lightning move, she dropped her weapon and flipped the man over onto his back in the hay. His bulging eyes widened, fear flashing through them. The Irishman’s gun never wavered from its target, but Buddy’s muscles bunched, as though he was about to make a move, and she was having none of it.

  “I have you covered, Barbara. You can let him go. Flynn sent me. You’re safe now.”

  With one vicious twist of Buddy’s little finger, she pushed herself free of the drunken cowboy and left him screaming like the pathetic coward she recognized him to be.

  Chapter Two

  “Where are we going?”

  Dominic glanced at the woman in the passenger seat next to him, head laid back on the headrest, eyes closed, face a ghostly white, and wondered how she’d had the strength to defend herself against Buddy’s huge frame. “I have a facility I’m taking you to.”

  Her head gave a weary roll against the seat back. The bright white of her hair poked out in spikes from beneath the black woolen cap she wore. Her eyes were darkened pits in the flickering shadows of the car interior.

  “Facility?” Her lips barely moved. Her hands lay listless in her lap. “I told Flynn there’s nothing wrong with me.”

  “I know.” He kept his voice deliberately quiet to reassure her she was safe. “We discussed it, but it’s the best place to take you under the circumstances. It’s not officially commissioned yet. It’s a test center at the moment. There are only a few of us there.” He pulled off the ranch track to join the main highway. “We were told you had some trouble, went AWOL.”

  She let out a small puff of breath. “I’m on leave, not AWOL. Flynn said he managed to straighten that out.”

  “He did. He managed to pull some strings higher up the chain of command. Officially, you’re on leave, but there seems to be some kind of dispute about it.” Concentrating on the wide swath of light as the car’s headlights cut through the blackness of the night, he took a chance she might answer him. “You want to tell me about that?”

  Her quiet snort reassured him she wasn’t ready. “Not now.” The fatigue in her voice warned him not to press. There would be plenty of time. What he knew about her came only from her service record and the conversations he’d had with Flynn. What she knew about him was nothing. First he had to make her comfortable, and then he needed to win her trust.

  A petite woman, she looked so frail she might break if he pushed, and break was what they were trying to avoid.

  “Where’s Flynn?”

  “New Zealand.”

  She shot up in her seat, and the slash of moonlight lit the laser beam of her eyes as they bored in to him. Flynn had warned him she might not be happy about the situation. He’d felt he was deserting her despite Dominic’s reassurances that he needed to get on with his own life and Barbara would be safe in his care. “Buddy told me, but I thought he was shitting me.” She gave her thighs a brisk rub as though she could still feel the guy’s urine on her, but they’d let her have a quick shower at the ranch, and she’d changed clothes while Sheriff Swann had dealt with Buddy.

  She turned to face him. “What the hell’s Flynn doing there?”

  Dominic tried not to smile. The guy deserved his happiness, but Barbara wasn’t necessarily in the right place in her own life to agree with that. “If he wanted to keep the woman he’d fallen in love with, he needed to go.” He gave a careless shrug while he overtook a sluggish lorry. “He expected you three days ago, and you didn’t show. He didn’t hear from you until today, and he was just about to board his flight. He couldn’t risk you not being at the rendezvous again.”

  She slumpe
d back in her seat, crossed her arms over her chest, and drew her legs in closer. Interesting defensive stance. “If it helps, he felt really bad, but I promised him I’d look after you.”

  Dominic gave her the time she needed to think about it and kept his hands soft on the steering wheel while he resisted the temptation to tap his fingers on it.

  This woman was bright. Flynn had made no bones about that. Extremely intelligent, dedicated, and intuitive. Dominic also had to go with his own instincts. Flynn had said she was tough, and what she’d done to Buddy proved it, but the woman next to him seemed too delicate, too fragile, certainly a contradiction.

  He risked a sideways glance at her. She shuffled her small, black-clad body in the leather seat and sighed. “There was someone else there.”

  Puzzled, he flashed her a quick glance. “Where?”

  “At the rendezvous. The first one, three nights ago. There was someone else there when I arrived. Waiting in the dark, watching. So I left before Flynn arrived.”

  “I was with Flynn. You would have been safe. We would have looked after you.” How far did her paranoia stretch? It may be she was suffering from hypervigilance, a symptom of PTSD, but she’d convinced Flynn otherwise. Perhaps she wasn’t yet ready to admit it herself. Or maybe she was right and there’d been someone waiting in the dark. After all, she was only paranoid if she was mistaken. Certainly when they’d arrived, there’d been no evidence of anyone. Not even Barbara. Then again, Emilio had made enough noise to wake the dead. Perhaps it had been him she’d heard.

  She stretched her legs back out in front of her, turned in the seat, and the intensity of her stare burned. “If I’d stayed, you may have been too late to save me, and I’ve learned in this life you have to save yourself, because no other fucker’s going to do it for you.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way. Is there no one you trust?”

  “Trust.” She gave a soft snort in the dark, pulled her legs up onto the seat, and tucked into a tight ball, her chin resting on her knees. “I trusted Flynn to be there, but he wasn’t.”