The Sheriff's Amnesiac Bride. Linda Conrad

       Chapter 1

      Uh-oh. Big trouble.

      “Shut up, lady.” One of the two men in the front seat swung his arm over the seat back and smacked her across the cheek. “You’re in no spot to argue. You say you can’t remember? Well, that ain’t my problem.”

      The driver didn’t turn around, but muttered, “When we get back, the boss’ll make you talk. And he won’t be as nice as we are. You took something that didn’t belong to you, and that’s a no-no.”

      “But…but I really can’t remember.” She rubbed at her stinging cheek. “I don’t even know who I am.” Tears welled up and she fought the panic that was quickly crawling up her spine. She didn’t dare cry. Hardly dared to breathe.

      Caught in an internal struggle for clarity, she’d been trying to bring up memories from her past. She was desperate to remember anything at all. Even her own name escaped her, and it had been this way for what seemed like hours.

      Where there should’ve been something, there was a huge void. Darkness. A little pain. But nothing even vaguely familiar.

      She didn’t have a clue as to why these men had forced her into the backseat of this speeding car. Or where on earth they were heading. Everything out the window seemed as alien as everything in her mind. She didn’t know what she was doing here. Or who these horrible men were who kept insisting she tell them where “it” was.

      The only thing she did know was that these two goons were carrying guns. Big ones. They’d waved them at her when she tried to tell them she couldn’t remember.

      Oh, God, help her. She was going to die if something didn’t give soon.

      Putting her hands together, she silently prayed for a break. Some way of escaping this car and these two men.

      As if God had answered her prayer directly, a church spire appeared out the front windshield. The car slowed.

      “What the hell is all this traffic about?” The driver sounded irritated as he slammed his foot on the brake. “It ain’t Sunday, damn it. Get out of our way, you idiots!”

      Oh please, let me find a way out, she silently begged. Let this be the time. Let this be a place where I can find sanctuary and someone who will save a desperate woman with no memory.

      Then, quietly, an answer came to her from out of the emptiness in her mind. The Lord helps those who help themselves.

      Sheriff Jericho Yates glanced up toward the Esperanza Community Church steps looming directly ahead and slowed his pace. He wasn’t chickening out of his own wedding, but there was truly no sense in getting there before the bride-to-be would be ready to start.

      “You’re sure you want to go through with this, bro?” Fisher, his older brother and the best man, slowed his steps too.

      With a serious face but eyes that always seemed to be laughing behind his sunglasses, Fisher Yates, U.S. Army captain home on leave, rarely showed any emotion. But at the moment, it was Fisher who looked panic-stricken by the thought of this wedding.

      “Hell, yes, I’m going through with it,” Jericho muttered as an answer. “I gave Macy my word. But I don’t want to piss her off by showing up too soon. We’ve been best friends ever since I can remember, and I couldn’t hurt her feelings by embarrassing her like that.”

      “Well, I remember when there were three of you best friends—back in the day. You and Macy and Tim Ward. I thought the whole idea of two guys and a gal hanging out and being so close was a little weird at the time. And sure enough, it was Macy and Tim that eventually got hitched. So what were you all those years? The dorky third wheel?”

      Jericho straightened his shoulders under the weight of his rented tux and rammed his hands into his pockets. He would not let Fisher get to him today. His slightly shorter big brother, who was only just now back from his third tour of duty in the Middle East, could be a pain in the ass. But Jericho felt he needed to make allowances for Fisher—for possible psychological problems. Or whatever.

      He opened his mouth to remind Fisher that the three of them, he and Tim and Fisher, too, had all been half in love with Macy in high school. But then, Jericho thought better of jamming the truth in his brother’s face right now. Tim had been the one to win the prize. Jericho also remembered that Fisher had taken off in a hurry to join the army after Macy picked Tim to marry—and his brother had never looked back once.

      “No,”