Indigo

THE SMOKY BLUES

Mountains, music, love.

AFTER THE FALL

Widow Timberlynn Barstow is pregnant—not by her beloved husband, but by the man she holds responsible for his death. Big, blond, infuriating Sawyer Ellison has returned, demanding to be part of the baby’s life and hers. But he is still consumed by his war on drugs, ruthlessly disregarding anything that gets in the path of his quest, including those around him. Timberlynn’s uncharacteristic surrender to that beautiful stone-carved face and rock-hard body means much less than her child’s safety.

Sawyer Ellison harbors a deep hatred of drugs…and an even deeper secret. He wants to make Timberlynn his, yet his personal crusade is everything. It drove him to decisions he regrets, mistakes that haunt him unto this day. Yet he cannot grieve over being with Timberlynn. The banjo-playing beauty—and now their child—is everything he never dreamed he could have. Now it’s just a matter of paying the piper.

INDIGO

A Smoky Blues Romance

Emily Mims

www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.

INDIGO

Copyright © 2017 Emily Wright Mims

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.

ISBN 978-1-944262-74-7

E-book formatting by Maureen Cutajar

www.gopublished.com

This book is dedicated to banjo pickers everywhere.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I’d like to thank the staff at Boroughs Publishing—in particular Chris Keeslar and JoAnne Soper-Cook—for their valuable input. I’d also like to thank Nancy Sartor for being my beta reader. All of you make me look so good!

CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Emily Mims

INDIGO

Prologue

July

It was the sound of singing out in the hallway that woke her. Someone was singing loudly, off-key, and in Spanish.

Not a language often heard in Kingsport, Tennessee.

Timberlynn Murphy Barstow groaned as sledgehammers pounded in her head. Damn it, did all of Ren’s relatives sing as badly as whomever was in the hallway? Were they as drunk as she’d been several hours ago when she’d quietly exited the wedding reception downstairs? It had been rude of her to leave. But she was no longer able to abide the festivities when all she wanted to do was crawl in a hole and cry. She hoped there would be no hard feelings over her early exit. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Ren and Kylie, but the joyous occasion reminded her too much of her own wedding day three years ago, the day she took Jake Barstow as her husband and vowed to love him as long as they both should live. Which had been exactly two years, three months, and four days, until death had indeed parted them.

A door across the hall opened and shut, and thankfully the singing stopped. Timberlynn raised her hand to her throbbing forehead. How much had she consumed, anyway? Jake had always teased her about not being able to hold her liquor. More than a couple of drinks and she was tipsy and very much in need of a bathroom. She’d had considerably more than a couple at the reception.

She tossed the covers back and managed to get one foot on the floor before a long, bare arm snaked out and pulled her close to the hard body of a naked man snoring softly in her ear. She wasn’t dreaming of Jake. This man was bigger and harder than Jake had ever been. Timberlynn’s eyes snapped open in the dark as booze-fogged memories assailed her, memories of kissing and touching and holding on for dear life as the man next to her pounded into her, time and time again, while she cried out with pleasure.

What had she done?

Had she really slept with a man she despised? Had she really slept with the man she blamed for the death of her beloved husband?

Gently, so as not to wake him, Timberlynn lifted his arm and cautiously slid out from underneath it. She eased her way across the wide bed, not looking at his face until she stood up, her naked body shivering a bit in the air-conditioning. Only then did she dare to sneak a peek. It was all she could do not to cry out. Yes, she had done it; she’d had wild, hot, monkey sex with Sawyer Ellison, the man she hated most.

Gasping in horror, Timberlynn stared down at Sawyer, too frozen with guilt and shame to do anything else. His stone-carved face looked younger and even more handsome in sleep. His normally carefully combed blond hair was tousled, with a lock falling across his forehead. Blond bristles covered the lower half of his face. Powerful arms and shoulders spread above the covers, and even in the darkened room she could see the rough blond hair that covered his chest. She knew the rest by heart. How that hair arrowed down his stomach to flare around his impressive manhood. How his legs were long and strong, and his abdomen was as hard as a washboard. Bile rose in her throat as she stared down at her nemesis, even as she felt her nipples harden at the memory of all they had shared just hours ago in this bed. How could she be so attracted to a man she despised so bitterly?

She shook herself loose from her sensual perusal. As quietly as she could, she located and donned her bra and her dress. Never mind the shredded panty hose. She looked for her sexy thong and then she remembered Sawyer tearing it from her body as his fingers found her most intimate secrets. She found her shoes and her evening purse on the floor by the door. As she slipped into her shoes, she cast a nervous glance at the door. Not that she’d never made a walk of shame before. She’d made more than a few as a young wild child. But she hadn’t made one in years, not since she’d married Jake and settled into a happy life as the young minister’s wife. But last night loneliness and grief had driven her into risky behavior that would exact its price. She made her way back to her own room just down the hall. She hoped no one saw her. It would break hearts if any of Jake’s old congregation saw her leaving another man’s hotel room.

Thankfully the corridor was clear. She got to her room unseen where she made a beeline to the bathroom, and promptly threw up, booze and reception canapes mingling with shame and regret. She had given into the alcohol and the loneliness and the unexplainable attraction she’d always felt for Sawyer, an attraction she’d felt even when Jake was alive. Despite her antagonism toward him, despite the belief that he’d robbed her of her husband, her unborn child, and most of her worldly assets, she’d let him make love to her.

She had betrayed Jake in the most heinous of ways.

She had slept with the man who cost Jake his life.

Timberlynn didn’t even try to stem the onslaught of tears. She picked up the lumpy hotel pillow and sobbed, her mascara staining the white pillowcase as she poured out her grief for Jake and for the baby she’d lost the same night she’d lost him. She grieved for herself, too. The Timberlynn who’d been married to Jake wouldn’t have done such a thing. Even the wild child of her youth wouldn’t have slept with a man she hated. She’d changed since Jake’s death. She wasn’t sure she liked the new Timberlynn.

But what was done, was done. Timberlynn finally dried her eyes and made her way to the bathroom for a long, cleansing shower, purposely avoiding looking at herself in the large bathroom mirror until she’d had a chance to wash off the congealed makeup and the shame and the smell of Sawyer’s aftershave and musk on her skin. As she blotted the water from her face and breasts, horrified by the satisfied twinges coming from her completely sated body, she realized that neither she nor Sawyer had done anything about birth control. Her mind raced for a moment. What were the chances? She did a count in her head and relaxed. Completely safe. There was no way she could get pregnant this late in her cycle.

So where did she go from here? Timberlynn pulled her plain cotton gown over her head and brushed her teeth, hoping to get the taste of Sawyer’s kisses out of her mouth. She couldn’t undo what had happened tonight. But there would be no repeats. Not with Sawyer, certainly. She hated him for what he’d done to her and Jake. It would behoove her to remember that.

She had no business sleeping with anyone else, either. At least not until she could give herself to a man with love and not long for Jake with every breath she took. But as she lay down and shut her eyes, she admitted to herself that Jake had not been in that bed tonight with them.

It had been just her and Sawyer.

***

Sawyer rolled over and opened his eyes a slit as the hotel room door closed. So she’d slipped out without facing him. He felt himself grimace in the dark. He couldn’t blame her. Must have been quite a shock, waking up beside the man she professed to hate with all her heart. Probably did hate him, if the truth were known. God knew she had enough reason. All he’d done last night was to give her another reason to hate him.

Geez, what a clusterfuck. Sawyer pushed himself up in the bed and leaned against the headboard, clutching his head in his hands. He could use another drink. He could use several more drinks. But he’d already had his quota and then some, or he wouldn’t have slept with her at all. Now she was sneaking down the hall and he was sitting here eating a guilt sandwich with a large serving of remorse on the side. She’d met him more than halfway, as eager as a water nymph and twice as beautiful. Even so, it had been his job to keep things in hand, not hers. His job to walk away. His job not to take advantage of her grief and loneliness, not to mention the booze she’d swilled.

The bottom line was, he’d taken advantage of a lonely, vulnerable woman, a woman still grieving her dead husband. How she could grieve him, Sawyer could never understand. But then, she’d had no idea he was a drug-dealing lowlife.

Shit. Sawyer stumbled his way to the bathroom. So, what did that say about him, the Sawyer Ellison who’d spent his life fighting drugs and drug dealers? Not his finest hour. But truthfully, a part of Sawyer was glad it had happened. It would be a long time before he forgot the way her body had tightened around him or the sexy little whimpers in her throat as she came and came and came.

But it would never happen again. He would steer clear of one Mrs. Jake Barstow, even when visiting Ren at Acoustics. Avoiding her most likely wouldn’t be a problem. No way was she going to want to face him, either. Besides, he needed to concentrate on his job, taking drugs and drug dealers off the street. He didn’t need to spend his time lusting after a woman who wouldn’t want him unless she was blind, staggering drunk.

Chapter One

January

Seventeen-year-old Sawyer Ellison leaned forward from the back seat of the police car. Can’t you go any faster, sir? he begged the driver of the car. They’re alone in there, and Dad doesn’t have so much as a BB gun to protect them.

"I’m going as fast as I can." Officer Jenkins was one of Charlotte, North Carolina’s, finest, even if the man didn’t look much older than his brother Asher.

"But can’t you put on the lights and sirens? Can’t you do anything to get us there faster?" Sawyer cringed at the pleading tone of his voice.

"Son, if we alert the drug dealers we’re coming in, we won’t catch them tonight. They’ll get away and your family will be in just as much danger tomorrow night and the night after that. They will just come back and do their dirty work another time. Detective Greely, the older vice squad detective riding shotgun, looked at him patiently. Your family’s best bet is if we catch the dealers tonight. Then we can put a stop to it."

Sawyer had to admit that made sense. Damn Asher, anyway. How the hell could he let himself get mixed up with that bunch of lowlifes?

"It’s beyond me, son. I guess it was the drugs talking. Or has your brother always had problems?"

Sawyer turned anguished eyes on the detective. No. He used to be all right. It was only after he got hooked on the damned stuff.

"What has him so convinced your family’s in danger? Jenkins asked Greely. Why would he know anything?"

"He overheard Asher talking to one of them. Sawyer and his brother work at the Burger Bar down on Billy Graham Parkway out close to the airport," Greely said.

"I was taking a load to the dumpster when I heard Asher and another dude out in the alley behind the place, Sawyer added. The other dude was telling Asher that if he didn’t come up with either the money or the unsold drugs by tonight, there would be hell to pay. And then he quoted our address."

"Did you say anything to your mom and dad?" Jenkins asked.

Sawyer felt his face tighten. They flat-out wouldn’t believe me. They said Asher was a good boy and wouldn’t get involved with something like that. Mom said I couldn’t have possibly heard them right. Dad told me to stay out of it, that whatever was going on was Asher’s business.

Greely sighed. Sounds like your parents are in a serious state of denial.

"They are. They take naïve to a whole new level. Sawyer didn’t try to hide his exasperation. I guess they think if one of us was going to get involved with that kind of thing, it would be me."

The older cop raised his eyebrow. Given them a few sleepless nights?

Sawyer cracked a smile. A few, maybe.

"So you came downtown and talked to the police yourself. Ballsy, Jenkins said thoughtfully. A lot of kids wouldn’t have had the nerve to squeal on their own brother."

"What other choice did I have? They wouldn’t believe me, and Asher—all he’s interested in is his next high. The car rounded the last corner and raced up the street to the Ellison home. Sawyer leaned forward in the seat. The house is dark. It’s never dark this time of night. Mom always has the front porch light on. Damn it, something’s happened."

They were halfway up the street when shots rang out in the quiet of the night. Shit, that’s a semiautomatic. Somebody’s serious about doing some damage to whoever’s in there. Greely ran his hand down his face.

"Oh, nooo," Sawyer moaned. Even from halfway down the block, he could tell the gunfire was coming from the Ellison home.

The squad car pulled up in the driveway. Sawyer leapt out, ignoring the warnings of the two policemen, and raced for the front door. As he ran up the porch steps, Asher staggered out the front, door clutching his bleeding shoulder. Get back! he screamed, pushing Sawyer back down the steps. It’s gonna blow.

"No, Sawyer said, as he tried to push his way around Asher. I’ve got to save them. I’ve got to get them out of there."

With almost superhuman strength, Asher used his good arm to shove Sawyer down the steps. It’s too late. They’re already dead. Asher’s voice was harsh and his breathing ragged. "Come on, Sawyer. I don’t want to lose you, too." Asher’s eyes were wild as he half dragged Sawyer away from the house.

Sawyer fought, but even in his injured state Asher had him halfway down the sidewalk before he broke loose and raced back toward the house. He was almost to the porch when he was blinded by a flash of light, and a powerful blast lifted him up off his feet and into the air—

Sawyer jackknifed into a sitting position and breathed in huge gulps of air. He could feel his heart racing as he stared across the darkened bedroom. The only light in the room was the fluorescent glare of the streetlight outside his apartment window filtering through the mini blinds, but it was bright enough that when he looked down he could see his hands shaking. Shit, he murmured as he willed his fingers to stop their trembling. He glanced at the clock and groaned. He hadn’t gotten to bed until nearly midnight and it was only four, but going back to sleep would be impossible, as it always was when he dreamed of the night that had changed his life so dramatically.

Sawyer sank back against the padded headboard. He hadn’t had the dream in quite a while and had hoped that maybe it had become a thing of the past. But apparently not. Tonight it had been particularly vivid, the gunshots strikingly loud, and Asher’s voice especially harsh as he dragged his younger brother down the sidewalk toward safety. He could still taste the ashes on his tongue, even though it had been twenty years since he’d picked himself up off the ground and watched in horror as his childhood home burned to the ground with the bodies of his father, his mother, and his little sister still inside. He could still feel himself shaking as he watched the paramedics load his injured brother, under police guard, into the ambulance as an officer read Asher his rights. He could still feel the trembling hand of his shell-shocked grandmother on his shoulder as she gently steered him to her car and drove him across town to her home. As much as he would like to forget the gory details, they were burned into his memories, forever to return and haunt him. And shape him into the man he’d become today.

Sawyer pushed himself out of bed and into the kitchen for a cup of coffee and a look at his appointments for today, which included a drive to Bristol to check out the nightclub belonging to his old friend, Ren Navarro. Drug activity had resurfaced in the tiny town sitting on the Tennessee-Virginia border. Ren wanted Sawyer to check things out at Acoustics, to do a look-see and determine if anything was amiss in the popular Bluegrass club. Even if Sawyer was no longer with the DEA, his career with the agency derailed by a clusterfuck at that very same club and the long arm of a certain Tennessee senator, he was still an expert in all things drug related. A good bit of his surprisingly lucrative security job was working as a consultant on drug-related issues for companies and establishments taking proactive measures to