Ride With Me (A Quaking Heart Novel - Book One)
*Now available*
When Johnnie Williams returns from Montana to orderly city life, he finds his job as a Pinkerton detective no longer sparks his passion like it used to . . . until Rose Marie crosses his path, knee deep in criminal activity. As Johnnie investigates her, a different kind of passion ignites—along with a slew of threats he never saw coming.
Rose Marie Swanson goes home to San Francisco with a renewed commitment to the life she has chosen. She has work to do, and must make sure no one interferes. When Johnnie gets in the way, she devises a plan to destroy his intolerable curiosity and dangerous desire to help.
Get started with the prologue and first four chapters!
PROLOGUE
Mary's cabin,
east of Harper Ranch, Montana
August, 1959, 11:36 pm
A vibration. A sharp jolt. A muffled roll beneath the floorboards and Johnnie's attention was snared. He shoved away from the counter, set his coffee mug in the sink, and tuned in to the sensations. Instinct told him what he'd detected, though he couldn't quite believe it.
He glanced at the three women hovering at the kitchen table. Here the earth's early warning system had sounded, and not one of them had noticed. What could women drone on about for three solid hours anyway?
When they'd arrived at Mary's mountain cabin, just after dark, Johnnie, Mary, and Rose Marie's only goal had been accomplished: finding the missing Jessica, safe and sound. What the women could find to debate for the entire evening after that, had him baffled. What was lost had finally been found. Bed should have been the next logical step, so they'd be rested enough to head back down the mountain at first light.
The rumbles heightened a bit. Johnnie looked down, as if the floorboards would give him answers. Sliding a hand to the back of his neck, he squeezed the knot of tension and waited. It wouldn't be long before he knew. And, if he was right, this timeworn cabin—and their lives—could be in serious danger.
Johnnie's divided attention drew back to Jessica now. Her voice had grown loud enough to drown out the sounds from below. He hadn't listened to the lengthy conversation the women were having, and now wished he had, to know what she was so upset about.
Another roll—bolder, more distinct. Johnnie's insides were tumbling, the same way they did when he was only moments away from an arrest. His work as a Pinkerton detective had fine-tuned his hunches. He relied on them, in his work, in his personal life . . . at times like this.
Another quick glance at the women told him they were still oblivious.
Jessica rose to her feet and dashed off in the direction of the bedroom.
"Wait!" Johnnie stretched out a hand, but missed her by inches.
He started after her, but it was too late. Through the soles of his boots, he detected the movement. The next was a spine-jarring jerk that jolted the entire cabin off its foundation. Earthquake!
He swung back to the two in the kitchen who were on opposite sides of the table. "Mary, Rose Marie, get under the table!"
Mary stood transfixed. Rose Marie and Johnnie dashed toward her at the same time. Johnnie got there first. He grasped her arm and squatted, pulling her down with him, a little harder than he'd intended. "Sorry, Mary," he hollered over the din as he shoved her under the table.
Rose Marie crawled after her, taking over her care. Johnnie nodded his agreement.
Another rumble billowed out from the depths of the earth, bringing with it a tide of pulsations. Cups spilled from their open shelves and splintered against the sink; dishes broke against one another inside the cabinets; two windows exploded; the table and chairs scraped along the wooden floor—it was chaos.
"Stay there!" Johnnie yelled at the women over the swell of noise, then turned to find Jessica.
"Jess!" Crossing his arms over his head he staggered like a drunk over the shifting floor.
The quake had gained momentum and shook viciously now. Johnnie was familiar with earthquakes, having lived in San Francisco for a good part of his life. This one had to be a good seven or eight on the Richter scale. Being in a remote cabin away from Harper ranch only worsened their situation.
"Jessica!" he bellowed. His voice was swallowed up in the roar of the quake. She was in there. Had to be. He just couldn't see her through the swirling dust and fragmenting ceiling.
A sudden whip of the floor sent him careening against the door jamb. His shoulder took the brunt and throbbed in earnest as he inched through the doorway, shoving fallen debris out of his way with the sides of his boots.
At last, he found her, crumpled near the bed. "Jessica!"
As he drove toward her, an end table overturned and slammed into his shin. He grimaced, but didn't stop until he reached her side. Dropping down next to her, he turned her over. The sight stopped his breath. He pressed two fingers into her neck. Thank God. Alive, but out cold.
He lifted her unconscious body into his arms and shuffled on his knees across the floor. Reaching the doorframe between the two rooms, he pressed his back into the jamb, pulled Jessica between his legs, and bent over her.
One last peek at the women under the table showed a surprisingly calm Rose Marie with Mary tucked safely under one arm. Their heads were bent over tucked up bodies, posed to ride out the quake.
It seemed to go on and on, escalating in intensity until Johnnie heard a ripping above them. The roof. He launched an arrow prayer: Help us Lord! If the cabin imploded, they'd be doomed.
Outside, cyclone wind hammered the small cabin. It tore through cracks in the ceiling and blown out windows. It was eerie, the sounds it made, like a living thing squeezing through too small a space.
What kind of earthquake is this thing?
Just then the wind battered the west wall. Another crash brought Johnnie's attention to Mary's kerosene lamp, once bolted to the wall near the kitchen table. It hit and smashed, scattering tiny shards of glass across the tabletop. Not lit. Thank goodness.
A colossal rip swallowed the other punishing sounds. He crooked his neck and squinted as the ceiling cleaved. Rafters disappeared, leaving a gaping hole. The dark night and devastating winds were exposed, causing him to witness the gale taking the home by force. Johnnie watched as it seemed to beckon him to enter its dark domain.
A feeling of doom came over him, roiling his gut. His protective impulses surged into overdrive, but he was powerless to act on them.
This was dire and something he couldn't control.
All he could do was sit tight and pray. "Please God, let us live!"