SAMPLE READ:   CHAPTERS 1 &  2

Chased by Memories

 by

Claudia Shelton

CHAPTER ONE

This had been a really long day. In fact, this had been a really long week. Month. Year…years. A lot of people Betsy Peyton had loved were no longer walking the earth, and she was having one of those missing-them periods in her life. Of course, it could have been worse. At least she still had plenty of family and friends to fill her off hours.

Peyton’s Automotives, her branded dealership, filled her days with single-car clients and company fleet contracts. The service center handled cars, trucks, SUVs, vans and the occasional emergency RV repair. Motorcycles she referred to the bike shop a couple blocks over.

Sighing, she set the burglar alarm for the night and stepped out the back door of the main dealership structure housing the offices and automotive display area. It was Friday night, and she was headed to Joanie’s Pizza, Pub and Pool, one of the places in town she could count on for friendship, laughter and good food.

Sliding into her SUV, parked in her spot next to the door, a couple of trucks parked behind the detached multiuse service center shop, at the far end of the lot, caught her eye as Papa Carrington walked into the service center. Her work ethic wouldn’t allow her to leave before her workers were able to go home, especially heading into a weekend. She might be the boss, but others always came first in her way of thinking.

She started the car and coasted down to the service center. Not recognizing the customer’s truck or SUV, she shifted into park, then headed inside. She heard indistinct voices from the other side of the closed door, but the moment she opened the back door the instantaneous silence was deafening.

“Hello. Anyone here?” Silly question seeing that she’d just seen at least one person enter less than two minutes ago.

“Betsy. Betsy, is that you?” Papa C stepped out from behind one of the floor posts. “Thought I saw you heading out of the office for the day when I turned into the lot.”

“You’re right, it’s that time. I saw some customer cars sitting down here. Just checking to see if I could help with anything.”

Off to the left, a grunt-groan caught her attention. Slowly, Earl Millerton, the service manager, pushed himself up from behind a car, holding his palm to his forehead. A trickle of blood oozed from the side of his mouth.

“Oh my gosh, Earl! What happened to you?” She stepped in his direction, but Papa C waved her off.

“Nothing to worry about, Betsy. He just got startled when I slammed one of the cabinet doors. First, he dropped a power tool. Then he tripped over it. I’m always telling him that you gotta be careful when you’re around equipment.” Papa C steered her toward the door. “Don’t you move, Millerton. As soon as I get Betsy on her way, I’ll find the first aid kit and get you all fixed up.”

She’d never understood why Papa C insisted on calling employees by their last names. Guess he thought it sounded more professional. More likely, he felt it gave him an edge of control over them. As for her, she wanted her workers to understand she considered them friends. They already knew their jobs, otherwise she’d have spoken to them. Worst case let them go. Either way she’d still call them by their first name.

Movement and a man’s mumbled voice caught her attention from the front of the building.

“Customer? I figured the service department was closed for the day.” She glanced to the corner where all she could see was the back of a mid-length bomber-style camouflage jacket and red cap on a tall muscular man. He appeared to be talking on his phone.

Papa C cleared his throat. “An emergency repair drove in at the last minute. Some guy heading out to hunt had an oil leak. That’s why Millerton called me. I told him I’d come over and help.”

“You sure? I don’t want you to get all tied up working late tonight.”

“We’ll be fine. Ain’t that right, Millerton?” He raised his voice as he called across the room.

The service manager glanced at the man near the front, then over to her. “Sure thing. You head on out, Betsy. We’ll be done and gone in no time flat.”

“Hey, can you get a move on back there? I’ve been waiting a long time for my repairs,” the man from the front hollered. “Got places I need to be. Things I need to check on. Or did you forget that part?”

Halfway out the door, she turned to confront the unappreciative customer, but one quick moment of eye-to-eye contact told her the man wasn’t one to squabble with. In fact, he sneered right into a threatening laugh as he shoved the red hat in his pocket then unzipped the jacket. She didn’t turn away, but a flash of cold raced up her spine as the clean-shaven man raised his sweatshirt’s hood and tugged it forward on both sides. He didn’t turn away either but did take a couple steps toward Earl.

“Be right there,” Papa C answered in return.

“You sure you and Earl will be okay with this guy?” she quietly asked.

He nodded, slowly pulling the door closed between her and him. “Don’t worry. We’re fine.”

“You seen him around before?” Something about the customer seemed vaguely familiar to Betsy.

“Met him a few times. He’s just got a chip on his shoulder. Now get on out of here and enjoy your evening.”

“Okay, I’m just concerned. Text me once the customer leaves.”

Papa C nodded and finished pulling the door closed. She heard the click of the security lock being set from inside.

As she got in the car, she realized just how lucky she was to have Papa C’s continued interest in the dealership. Of course, without him she’d have never owned Peyton’s in the first place. She used to refer to him as her father-in-law, or Phillip’s father. Nowadays she simply called him the previous owner out of respect for all he’d done, and still did, for her and the business.

Her own dad would probably have enjoyed helping around the dealership if he hadn’t been killed on the steps of the FBI building in Jefferson City. She’d only been ten, almost eleven years old. He’d been a special agent with the FBI, a man who loved the danger of following clues and solving cases. He also loved to tinker with cars. She must have inherited his penchant for automotives.

The lot’s halogen lights kicked up another notch, and she spied one of her perpetual lookie-loo customers strolling through the car lot. Any time she’d talked to him, he always seemed to have an appreciation for cars and trucks running through him, too. She gave a small wave. The man nodded in return as she pulled out of the dealership.

Five minutes later, she turned into Joanie’s Pizza, Pub and Pool parking lot. Evidently, she’d beat the Friday night rush and luckily found a spot under a parking light on the second row. Time for food, friends and hopefully a game of pool.

Doubtful any of her family would be there tonight. Her sister Marcy had texted a couple hours ago that she didn’t feel like their usual Friday get-together. And her mama, Sadie, and stepdad, Truman Dawson, were spending the weekend in Kansas City. They’d decided to celebrate their anniversary at one of those swanky downtown hotels. How many years had they been married? Enough to make them both happy, and that’s all that mattered.

Stepping into Joanie’s was like someone had suddenly lifted all the problems weighing on her shoulders. She felt the smile on her face increase with each person that shouted hello as she made her way to the small counter near the kitchen.

She snapped her fingers and made a detour to the chalkboard by the pool tables area, then printed her name at the bottom of the list of names already ahead of her. Worked for her. Gave her time to sit and chat with her best friend, Joanie Reynolds, as she came and went from the kitchen to the small counter.

“You’re just in time to taste my new recipe,” Joanie said as she slid a plate of fried ravioli appetizers in front of her. As the owner, her jobs ranged from paying the bills to coming up with new ideas for Friday night specials.

Betsy slipped onto one of the stools at the small counter. “So what’s new about this? I’ve had your fried ravioli lots of times.”

Her friend leaned forward and whispered as if this was a world-changing secret. “The ravioli are chicken instead of pork and beef. And you’ll notice there are two sauces. The regular marinara one and…”—she set a second small bowl next to the first—“… a special sauteed minced garlic with Italian seasoning in a delightful pool of melted butter.”

“Looks good to me.” Betsy took a chance on the chicken ravioli and smiled. Not all of Joanie’s concoctions turned out well, but this one had potential. “Hey, I need a light beer, wedge salad and a plate of fries to go with this.”

For the next hour, Joanie and she carried on a running conversation, in between customers and sharing the fries. Friday nights were always busy. Not much time for chitchat, but that didn’t matter. Joanie’s was making money, and Betsy was enjoying the noise of the customers. Sure beat sitting at home in front of a television. And once Papa C had texted that Earl and he had locked up and left Peyton’s, she felt a lot better.

Cheers from guys shooting a game at one of the pool tables greeted whoever had just walked in the front door. Betsy turned to say hello and made unintentional eye contact with the new arrival—Cain. Cain Connery. His blue-eyed nonchalance belied the intensity of his six feet of muscle and masculinity.

Breaking their visual connection, he glanced at the pool table chalkboard. “Could one of you guys put my name on the bottom of that list? I’ll be right over after I order a pizza.”

“Sure thing,” one of the guys said.

“Appreciate it.”

Seemingly always at ease in himself, he headed toward the small counter. Stopped to chat with people along the way, shook hands and laughed. Took extra time with some of the townsfolk, moved quick past others.

Knowing her body’s heated, heart-thumping reaction every time Cain got within speaking distance, she evaluated her options for avoidance. The sound of his voice, a cross between Sam Elliott and a finely crafted, ultra-smooth bourbon, depending on her mood, became more distinct as he neared the counter.

Quickly, she swallowed the French fry taking up space in her mouth and motioned to Joanie. “Hey, I’ve decided to head on home. Can I get a box for the rest of this?”

Joanie glanced at her, then Cain, then the counter. “Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Betsy leaned forward and rounded her eyes, then quickly gave a side-eye between Cain and Joanie. “I’m tired and I’d like to head home.”

Her friend smiled, arching her right eyebrow in a “gotcha” moment. “It’s about time one of us moves on with their life.”

“That goes for you, too,” Betsy whispered.

Joanie stared for a long moment at the tri-folded United States flag in the case above the entrance. Batting her eyes, she grabbed the bar towel and started cleaning the counter. “I’m not ready. That means it’s your turn tonight.”

Cain slid up on the stool at the end of the short counter. “You two look deep in conversation.”

“Just talking about life and weather and long past Friday nights,” Joanie said. “What can I get you?”

“One of your special Friday night pizzas and a beer. How about you, Betsy? You need another beer?”

“No. I’m…I’m just fine. I…uh, that is…” She shook her head and placed her hand on top of her drink.

And there it was—the quirk of his smile, his questioning glance, the furrow of his brow at her answer, and that smooth-as-metal voice. Add in the scent of his leather jacket and she was done for. She’d felt the blush on her neck as she stumbled over her words. But her emotions would never get the best of her. Any unfulfilled feeling she’d had for Cain in high school had long since been doused with years of life and distance.

Across the room, a groan split the air a second before cheers and hurrahs erupted. Evidently, someone had unexpectedly won. Or lost.

“That’s a wrap, guys,” one of the players shouted. “Hey, Betsy, your name is next on the chalkboard.”

Thank goodness she had a reason to leave the counter. “Okay, who’s up for a game?”

No one answered. And the one person who started to stand was pulled back down. What was going on?

She snagged her favorite cue stick from the rack. “Okay then. Is this a joke or something? No one wants to shoot a game of pool with me?”

The guy who had called out her name, glanced at the chalkboard. “Hey, there’s only you and Cain’s names left on the board. Why don’t you two play a game?”

People around the room quieted as if her answer was worth a million dollars.

Cain turned around on his stool. “That’s okay. I don’t think Betsy has ever shot a game of pool against me. Guess she’s afraid I’ll beat her.”

That did it! Betsy straightened. He’d just stepped over her line.

She picked up the blue chalk from the siderail. Tossed it in the air a couple of times. Took a few steps in his direction. And stared into his eyes. “So, you don’t remember the day I wiped you off the table in high school?” She cocked her hip out to the side and tapped her pool cue twice against the floor. “Right over there, at table number four.”

“Nope. Can’t say that I do.” He bit the side of his lower lip and crunched his brow as if deep in thought. Snapped his fingers. “Ooooooh, you mean that day after school when you lucked out and beat me? The day you were wearing those denim blue earrings with tiny gold stars holding them on your ears.”

Some of the other customers nodded in agreement. She turned to the crowd and opened her arms in an exaggerated bow. Good to know she wasn’t the only one from their high school group that still remembered the fun days of being young and crazy.

She turned back to him and smiled. He’d noticed. Noticed her earrings back then. “You remembered.”

“I remember a lot of things from back then.” Quick and easy, he shucked out of his jacket, tossed it over the closest chair and grabbed a cue stick from the rack. “We gonna play or not, Betsy?”

 CHAPTER TWO

Cain figured a man never knew when his life might hinge on expertise in hand-to-hand combat, weapon usage, or evasive driving. And even though he’d been on leave of absence from the Drug Enforcement Agency for well over six weeks, that didn’t mean his skill set would ever change. Even something simple like running a pool table might be enough distraction to throw the opposition off their game.

Or not.

“Well, will you look at that? I’ve only got one solid left to drop before the eight.” Betsy Peyton spun the end of her pool cue on the floor. “Looks like a tricky angle though. Maybe you’ll get a chance after all.”

“Yeah, I doubt you’ll be able to make that shot.” Cain cocked his head, pretending to evaluate the placement, then raised his eyebrows as he shrugged. “Of course, I could. Easy as anything. I’d just glide…”

With exaggerated emphasis, she tapped the cue on the floor, flashed him one of her sassy squinty-eyed looks, and bent into her stance. Now that was distracting. Hellfire distracting.

He might lose, but nothing compared to watching the way her jeans moved across her bottom and tightened. Or the way her knee-high boots, on three-inch heels, made her legs look like they’d go on forever. Yet, the thing he liked most was the way her long red hair gathered around her face as she leaned in for each shot.

They’d been friends from fifth grade all the way through high school. Of course, something had changed midway through his senior year when their laugh-filled friendship had become awkward. Looking back, he figured that’s when he turned into a jock just trying to hold on to his peer status for another day. Whereas Betsy had buckled down even harder on her studies and got accepted to three colleges.

After graduation, he’d left town and never looked back. But she’d always been his best friend in his memories. He’d only been back in Crayton, Missouri, for a couple of months, but every Friday night he’d invite her to a game of pool or dinner. Every Friday night, she turned him down. Except tonight.

She’d won the lag. Dropped a ball on the break. Methodically sunk every one of her solids since. Now, all that stood between her and a win was the black ball.

“Where do you plan to drop that eight?” He knew where, but he wanted to make her call the shot. He knew Betsy’s skill at billiards. She was a pool ace. Fifteen years ago in high school, she’d crushed him, and just about everyone else, at eight ball. Since then, though, he’d learned a thing or two about pool. And women.

“Eight ball…” She pointed to the pocket closest to herself. Aimed the cue across her fingers. Pulled the stick back, then firmly tapped it forward.

Standing up after she made the shot, she moved her finger in line with the roll of ball. Across the table. Off the rail. Back across, till it finally dropped into the pocket next to her. She smiled for a speck of a second, then glanced in his direction.

“You didn’t even watch.” For a moment, her bottom lip almost pouted, but that wasn’t something Betsy would ever allow. “That was a darn good shot, and you didn’t even—”

“Didn’t need to.” He hadn’t planned on not getting even one shot.

“And that…is how…you run…the table.” Betsy’s hazel green eyes, along with the tiny upturn at the corner of her lips, spoke volumes.

“I’ve got to say, you played one heck of a game. How about you give me a chance this time?” He laid the triangle on the felt and reached for the balls to rerack.

She pulled back her shoulders as all signs of fun left her expression. “Uh…maybe another time.”

“When?”

“When what?”

Edging slightly into her space, he leaned against the table. “You said another time. How’s tomorrow night?”

“No, I’m busy.”
Maybe all she needed was a little time. A little space. He could give her that. There were times that’s all he needed, too. Most people didn’t realize that was just part of life.

“Forget I asked. I don’t need to get hit over the head to know you don’t want me around,” Cain said.

“It’s not you. It’s just…” Betsy stared off into space for a moment before she looked back at him with an inkling of a smile on her lips. “You’re right. You deserve a rematch.”

At this point, he figured that was as good as a yes. “How about next Friday night then?”

She nodded. “I’ll be here.”

“What say we make a little bet on that?” Cain felt the corner of his mouth quirk. “If I win, you have dinner with me next Saturday night.”

The pinch of lines across her forehead revealed just how much she was thinking about the offer. “What if I win?”

He’d lived his life based on risking everything if the result was worth a loss. Maybe that’s what he needed to do in this situation. Put the risk out there. See what happened. “If you win, I’ll never ask you out again, Betsy.”

She walked over and held out her hand. “You got a bet, Cain Connery.”

He shook, trying to figure out why a night out with Betsy seemed so important to him. He’d never lacked for female company. During the two months since he’d been back in Crayton, he’d had three women hit on him. One wanted to buy him a drink. One wanted to give him a home-cooked meal. And one was just on vacation, looking for fun. He’d turned all three down.

“Hi, Ms. Peyton. You did good.” Steven Millerton, the local high school football star, walked up, holding his girlfriend Lisa’s hand. Another couple followed them. “Too bad, Mr. Connery. Maybe next time.”

Cain couldn’t help but like the kid. He’d heard nothing but good things about him and his family. Around Crayton, Missouri, the Millertons were known to be a hardworking, do-anything-for-you kind of people. “I heard you got a full-ride scholarship to college. That’s great.”

Steven looked at the floor as if he were embarrassed. “Yeah. University of Missouri was my top pick, and I got it. I’ll be playing football with the Mizzou Tigers next fall.”

“Your dad’s mighty proud of you.” Betsy patted him on the back.

“Really?” The boy looked up. “He said that?”

“That’s all he’s talked about the last few days around the service center. He even asked if he’d be able to leave work early some days next fall.” She leaned her pool cue in the wall rack. “Wants to make sure he’ll have time to get to your games up in Columbia.”

Cain saw from the expression on Steven’s face that he hadn’t heard the words of pride from his father. Too bad. Sometimes that’s all that mattered to a kid. At least Steven had heard his dad’s words through Betsy. All Cain had heard from his own dad had been something to the effect of don’t let the chains of life hold you back from having fun.

“Alright then.” Steven grinned and nodded to himself. “Hey, if you all are finished playing, can me and my friends grab the table?”

“Sure. We’re headed for a bite to eat.” Spying an empty booth, Cain took a few steps in that direction, then turned to let Betsy walk past. Instead, she hadn’t moved. “It’s just a beer and pizza, Betsy.”

When he’d left Crayton years ago, Betsy hadn’t been skittish. Shy maybe, but never afraid of anything, in fact, just the opposite. She’d also been one fiery redheaded hellcat when anyone dared to make a joke at the expense of her sisters or Sadie, her mama. Of course, Sadie never needed anyone to stand up for her. She was also a redhead.

He eased his stance along with his expectation. “Or would you rather sit at the counter?”

She turned in that direction. “I might have time for a soda, but that’s all. I have to be up early to open the dealership.”

Maybe they could catch up on everything that had happened since high school graduation. He’d joined the Army right after. And left town on the first bus headed for Fort Leonard Wood and basic training.

From off to the side, he saw Steven’s girlfriend, Lisa, leave by the front door carrying a take-out bag of food. Then Steven glanced their way. “Hey, Ms. Peyton. Can you do us a favor?”

Betsy walked back to the pool table. “If I can.”

“Lisa had to run some sandwiches down to her dad at his office. We’ll have to give up the table if we don’t keep playing.” The young man never made eye contact with Cain, only Betsy. “Could you be my partner till she gets back?”

“Sure. Sounds like fun.” Betsy smiled as she grabbed the cue she’d used previously, then glanced at Cain. “Go ahead and eat without me. I’m not really all that hungry.”

If Cain didn’t know better, he’d think she had paid the kid to get her out of having to spend time alone with him. He walked toward the counter. Grinning, he paused just a moment by Steven. “It’s a good thing I like you, kid.”

Steven shrugged and played the what-did-I-do look. “Sorry, Mr. Connery. I needed a partner.”

Cain opened his mouth to make a smart comeback, but the man coming in the front door caught his attention. Tall, muscular, a slight off-set of his shoulders, the slow, measured swagger of his gait all seemed familiar. A Stetson shielded the man’s face as he walked, head down, toward the counter.

As the man passed, Cain eased his hand to the holster of his hideaway gun, then cleared his throat. The man tilted his head just enough to make quick eye contact, then looked back down and continued to the counter.

Shadow! Why the hell was Shadow in Crayton, Missouri? Assignment? Dark ops? Coincidence? Agents never acknowledged each other on a chance meeting until they knew the lay of the land for the other one.

Cain blew out a sigh. Some days it felt like the DEA would be part of his life till the day he died.

Risk Of A Lifetime

A Small Town Romantic Suspense Novel

Three years ago, Marcy Bradley let the man she loved go so he could follow his career dream of being an FBI agent. She sent divorce papers. He signed. She never filed them.

Injured during his last assignment, FBI Special Agent Jean Bernard—JB—Bradley questions the integrity of his fellow agents. A few days recuperation back in his hometown will give him the perspective he needs. The added bonus is it’ll give him time to convince his ex-wife to come back to him, despite his life of risk. But when Marcy experiences a slew of unexplained accidents, JB realizes he brought the danger to her doorstep.

With a killer after them, Marcy and JB run for their lives, escaping to a lakeside cabin. Their love is rekindled, and JB realizes they’re still married, but will there be time for their passion amidst the explosions and gunshots?

1st book in the Risk series

Risk Of A Lifetime

A Small Town Romantic Suspense Novel

Three years ago, Marcy Bradley let the man she loved go so he could follow his career dream of being an FBI agent. She sent divorce papers. He signed. She never filed them.

Injured during his last assignment, FBI Special Agent Jean Bernard—JB—Bradley questions the integrity of his fellow agents. A few days recuperation back in his hometown will give him the perspective he needs. The added bonus is it’ll give him time to convince his ex-wife to come back to him, despite his life of risk. But when Marcy experiences a slew of unexplained accidents, JB realizes he brought the danger to her doorstep.

With a killer after them, Marcy and JB run for their lives, escaping to a lakeside cabin. Their love is rekindled, and JB realizes they’re still married, but will there be time for their passion amidst the explosions and gunshots?

1st book in the Risk series