A Hero's Redemption
He was living on borrowed time… Caught in a supernatural time shift, Dane Maguire was transported back to the week of Calla Jones's death. He'd be falsely convicted of murder again if he couldn't stop the past from repeating itself. Dane didn't count on his attraction for Calla.The owner of a Christmas tree farm, she'd sheltered him from a raging blizzard, but even the cold couldn't stop the heat between them. Was this a second chance or a cruel joke played by their enemies? Calla and Dane had two days to discover the truth–and each other–or history would repeat itself, and Calla would die.
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With love to 52.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Prologue
Haven, West Virginia
Lightning cracked, flaring into the dark vehicle, the heavy June night outside suddenly pressing down on the prison transport van, reaching inside, tightening the air. Still dressed in the suit heâd worn to the sentencing, Dane McGuire forgot that his wrists were bound by handcuffs linked to a metal restraining belt at his waist and tried to reach up, touch his face, feel the strange humming pressure filling his head.
In the matter of the State vs. Dane McGuire in the murder of Calla Jones, the jury finds the defendant, Dane McGuire, guilty.
The prison transport van took a sharp mountain turn in the night, bouncing Daneâthe sole occupant in the backâagainst the side of the vehicle. The chain connecting the shackles at his ankles rattled in the dark of the rear holding cage.
Guilty, guilty, guilty.
If only he hadnât gone to Calla Jonesâs farm. If only heâd arrived a few hours earlier, or later, orâ
Lightning shot down again, and the humming turned into a stinging in his skin, all over. The van jerked from side to side and he hit the hard wall of the vehicle as he was thrown, first to one side, then the other. For a split second, he thought he was okay, he was in one piece, maybe just a pothole, then the back end of the van came up, tossing him like a ball, and the vehicle plowed end over end. Time suspended in some awful slow motion, turning, just turning, his body flying out of the seat belt. The last thing he knew was impact and his head striking something hard.
He opened his eyes to darkness, blinking in agonized waves of nausea. Cold. He was so cold. Freezing cold. He battled to move by instinct, to lift himself up, every motion dazed, painful.
The mountain road stretched out before him, empty but for a shimmering wave of some thick vapor that disappeared before his eyes, rushing away in an eerie whoosh that left nothing but silence. Daneâs heartbeat filled the void, heavy, stumbling.
The van, the guardsâ
There was nothing but eerie stillness. Stillness andâ¦something soft and frozen falling on his face. He looked down, confused, seeing the snowy ditch where heâd fallen, seeing the shackles on his wrists and anklesâ¦gone.
He felt himself fall back, hit the ditch again, and he wondered if he was already dead.
Chapter 1
Sheâd never touched a dead body before and she didnât want to start now.
Chuck was practically beside himself, the yellow Lab dancing back and forth, barking madly. Do something, he was telling her. Look what I found for you. She jerked into action, half ran, half slid into the ditch, instinct overcoming shock. Ice blew sideways, stinging her cheeks.
She dropped to her knees where the stranger lay, still, utterly still. He wore dark slacks and a white button-down shirt and tie, no suit jacket or overcoat, ridiculous for this weather, and she forced herself to reach out, turn him over. Oh God. That was blood at the dark hairline of his temple. Frozen blood.
His lips were almost white in the scant light of the early storm-dark. The West Virginia mountains were in for the blizzard of all blizzards if forecasters were right, and she didnât doubt it, not after the way temps had dropped sharply from noon on. She hoped she wouldnât have to cancel the âchoose-and-cutâ for this weekend, the last for this yearâs Haven Christmas Tree Farm season. She needed a good season, and the weather wasnât helping. It hadnât been a good year altogether, starting with an earthquake last spring that had damaged her house and barn, costing her some serious money in repairs. Now sheâd lost both her employees in the peak of her season and if that wasnât enough, her past was rearing its ugly head again. Now this.
A sick lump filled her throat. She tore off a glove, pushed back her hood, reached for the manâs neck to find an artery, laid her cheek over his faceâwas he breathing? She couldnât feel a pulse, but her fingers were almost instantly numb. Wind blew. God, she couldnât tell.
Chuck barked again, running circles around the manâs body. She lifted her head. Icy pellets pecked her face. No, that was snow now. And it was thickening quickly, a world of white suddenly spinning around her. She shivered even inside her thick parka, turning her gaze back to the man. There was ice on his lips, on his eyebrows, his hair. And that blood, frozen on his brow. What had happened to him? Had he fallen, or been attacked? And how the hell had he ended up here? It was miles down the mountain to town.
The manâs eyes opened and she screamed. Screamed and fell back, on her ass, hard. Chuck went nuts, barking and jumping.
