—Beth Pugh, Selah Awards nalist and author of the Pine Valley Holiday series
“In Dakota Courage, Megan Kinney takes you on a heart-twisting ride that keeps you turning page a er page. e romance is compelling, and the jeopardy is palpable. e backdrop of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally adds a unique element that carries the story from a fast-paced start to a picture-perfect ending. Loved every minute.”
“Megan Kinney’s Dakota Courage catapults the reader on an emotional ride as a woman struggles with coming to terms with who she once was to who she is. Gripping and poignant, this book is a must-read for anyone wanting hope that a traumatic past doesn’t have to stop one’s hopes for —Parkertomorrow.”J.Cole,speaker, radio host, and author of e Daughters of Black Gotham series and e Once and Future Queen
—Janis Jakes, author of e Bounty Hunter’s Bride and A Rose in Winter
Publishers Weekly best-selling and award-winning author of Love Inspired Suspense
“Megan Kinney delivers a compelling story of second chances, forgiveness, and redemption with likable characters who endure tough challenges. Strong action and a great plot twist make Dakota Courage a must-read.”—ShareeStover,
“Weaving redemption from beginning to end, Dakota Courage is a roller-coaster ride lled with suspense, romance, and family. Megan Kinney’s strong voice shines as she reminds us that past mistakes do not have the power to dictate the future and that our faults, experiences, and history do not determine our worth. Tackling such sensitive topics as manipulation, sex tra cking, and kidnapping, Dakota Courage tugs at heart strings. Readers will be le with renewed hope and encouragement that will stay with them long a er they close the book.”
Dakota
Courage gG
MeganbyKinney
Birmingham, Alabama
Dakota Courage Iron Stream Fiction An imprint of Iron Stream Media 100 Missionary Ridge Birmingham, AL IronStreamMedia.com35242 Copyright © 2022 by Megan Kinney No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the prior written permission of the publisher. Iron Stream Media serves its authors as they express their views, which may not express the views of the publisher. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only. Library of Congress Control Number: 2022940952 Cover design by Hannah Linder Designs ISBN: 978-1-64526-358-6 (paperback) ISBN: 978-1-64526-359-3 (e-book) 1 2 3 4 5—26 25 24 23 22
Emma, Angel, Alicia, and Kylee God has blessed me by letting me be your mom. May you each find the courage to be the hero of your own adventure.
Acknowledgments
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First, I want to thank my husband, Kevin. I’m not kidding when I tell you that Iron Stream Media should hire him for their marketing team. He takes my books wherever he travels, selling them on airplanes, at conferences, even on the cruise we took last spring. His love and support have been a lifeline in fulfilling my dreams. I want to thank my four daughters too. They are such a blessing to me, putting up with a stressful mom when deadlines loom. They love to listen to me talk about my stories and write stories of their own. I’m thankful for my parents and all my family and friends who encourage me every day. I’m thankful for the people in my life who have joined me in this writing adventure. My amazing editor, Karin Beery, who invested just as much blood and sweat, but probably not tears, as me. She’s a superstar who pushes me to be the best writer I can be. I want to thank Hollie Strand, Jeanne Mann, Laurie Parkins, Jake and Angela Mordhorst, Dr. Pam Schmagel, and Beth Picket Pin for answering all my questions and providing great feedback from their professional knowledge so that I don’t have to be a forensic examiner, victim’s advocate, probation officer, dispatcher, jailer, doctor, vet tech . . . and a writer. A huge thank-you to the Adabooktomy Book Club for reading through earlier manuscripts and giving me great feedback.
I want to thank the Iron Stream Media editorial board and staff, Tina Atchenson, Kim McCulla, and many more, who use their gifts and talents to make me look good. I especially want to thank the cover designer, Hannah Linder, as I’m blown away by her I’dtalent.love to thank all you amazing readers too. You have been such a blessing to me as I read your comments, reviews, and emails.
g viii G Dakota Courage Thank you for being amazing! But mostly I’d like to thank Jesus and give Him glory for giving me the desire, the creativity, and the joy of writing. He’s the true reason that lives change for the better. Go to megankinney.net to sign up for my newsletter and hear about upcoming projects and promotions. Thank you and God bless.
g 1 G CHAPTER 1
As she walked through the former dining room and parlor of the Victorian house—both packed with antique toys, books, and figurines—the Black Forest cuckoo clock tweeted. Three thirty already? Her mail would be there soon. With nothing else to do in the still-empty store, she walked past the locked cabinets full of valuable antiques back to the foyer. Pushing up onto her tippy-toes, she peered through the door’s stained glass to wait for her mail.
He stepped up to the waist-high sales counter and set down a bag and her mail. “Looks like you’ve got jury duty.”
She grabbed a towel from under the counter and handed it to him. A white envelope sat on top of the stack. Seventh Circuit Court Services. Mary Russell. Her chest tightened. She slid the stack of letters off the counter and under the desk before he saw the name.
Elaine Kent stared at the computer screen so long the numbers blurred. With a deep breath, she closed her laptop. Her sales were depressing. Extra foot traffic from the motorcycle rally would help, but there had to be a way to increase her income on a consistent basis. What could she add to her crowded antique shop to boost business?
A man stood in the rain at the end of the sidewalk talking with her mail carrier. He took something from her, then sprinted toward the shop, his head down and something cradled in his arm like a football. Elaine opened the door as the man looked up. “Mitch!” She smiled at the familiar face, swinging the door wide for him to run through. “Let me get you a towel.”
his face. “You keep it. It’ll give me an excuse to come back.” He leaned on the counter. “You got a boyfriend who’ll blacken my eye if I ask you out?” Her cheeks warmed as she shook her head. “No boyfriend.” “Good to know.” He winked. “I’ll be back in a couple of days.” Her face blazed. All she could manage was a weak smile as he turned and strode to the door. When it closed behind him, she took the stack of mail from under her desk and fanned her face. The thought of putting herself out there again nearly made her ill,
His lips pushed together. “I was hoping you’d be able to pay me for it now.”
He glanced around the shop. “Slow day?” “You’re the first one to come in all afternoon.” “That’ll change. The rally starts in a few days. Then you’ll be able to retire to Florida for the winter.” Elaine laughed. “I sure hope so. What do you have for me?” She tipped her head at the white bag. “Wait until you see. This is the best find yet.” The bag crinkled as he opened it. He pulled out a tall metal teapot with a long spout and painted glass panels. Elaine inwardly cringed. “That’s sure unique.” And ugly. She gently picked it up to inspect it. “I’ll have to look up the value of this one. Can you give me a couple of days?”
For the past few months, ever since Mitch first came into her shop, she’d been able to pay him when he dropped off his treasures, but the odd-looking pot had her stumped. “I’ve never seen anything like this, so I don’t know what a fair price would be.” And she couldn’t afford to give him more than it might be worth. “You can take it with you if you don’t feel comfortable leaving it. I’ll understand.”Asmileslidacross
g 2 G DakotaMitchCouragewiped the water from his face and hands. The rain hadn’t disturbed his blond, textured highlights. His eyes were the purest of blue, and his rugged stubble darkened his jaw. She’d love to grab her sketch pad and spend the next few hours sketching his lovely face.
g 3 G Megan Kinney but she missed the security, safety, and companionship she’d had with her husband . . . at the beginning. Mitch had flirted before, but she’d figured it was his way of sweet talking her into giving him a better deal. Could he seriously be interested in her?
Not wanting to overthink it, she put the letters down and picked up the teapot. It resembled an elongated, narrow genie lamp. The glass panels looked to be hand painted. She exchanged the pot for her phone and searched through her favorite antique websites for clues. After coming up empty, she took a picture and posted it online, asking for information about it. Unable to avoid it any longer, she picked up the mail. She traced the writing on the first letter. Mary Russell. If only she could change her past as easily as she had changed her name. Her hands trembled as she opened the envelope. A meeting with her probation officer. Right in the middle of the Sturgis Motorcycle Rally—her busiest week of the year. She couldn’t close the store. She’d lose thousands of dollars in business. But she couldn’t skip the meeting either. Her probation officer had been understanding so far, but Elaine didn’t want that to change. She still had over four years to work with him. That left only one option, and it wasn’t a good one. Elaine grabbed her phone and called her grandma. “Hi, sweetie.” Grandma’s soft voice sounded cheerful. “Hi, Grandma. I have a favor to ask. I have a meeting in Rapid City on August eighth. Do you think you can watch the store for “Can’tme?”you close for just a bit?” Her voice quieted. “I’d hate to lose business during the rally. That week could give me enough revenue to keep me afloat the rest of the year.”
“I can’t drive that far.” “I know. I could come get you the night before and we’ll spend the night together. I’ll have time in the morning to show you how to do things before I have to leave.” “I don’t know . . . I don’t like staying in strange places. I like to sleep at home.”
strange place. You used to live here, remember? Aunt Susan turned it into an antique shop.” “Oh, that’s right.” Grandma giggled. “I forgot she did that.
Did you ask Susie to help you?”
“Bye, Elainesweetie.”endedthe
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call and walked around the sales counter to greet the man. She stepped into the show room, but he’d disappeared. “Hello?” He appeared beside the shelf of pottery, scowling. A scar ran from the corner of his eye to his chin. “Where is she?” “Who?” His intense gaze brought goosebumps to her skin as she backed up behind the counter.
A bird squawked and her grandma giggled. “Sally Ann, do you want to talk to your sister?”
It had always amused Grandma to pretend the bird was Elaine’s sister, but now she wasn’t sure if Grandma realized she and the cockatiel weren’t actually related. “Hi, Sally Ann. Are you being a goodThegirl?”bird squeaked. Grandma laughed again. Relief and regret poured over Elaine. The bell above the door jingled and a large, bald man marched in. Without a glance or a hello, he walked past her and headed toward the old dining room. “I’ve got a customer. Talk to you later.”
Elaine’s breath caught. What was going on? “Aunt Susan was killed in a motorcycle crash last spring, Grandma.” Loud breathing followed, then a sigh. “I know. I don’t know where my mind goes sometimes.” Elaine didn’t know either, and the slip worried her. “Don’t worry about next week. I’ll find someone else to help or I can close up for a few hours. It’ll be OK.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. You have always helped me. I’ll figure this out.”
The man rounded the corner and charged toward Elaine. “Where is she?”
“We have officers on their way. Stay on the line with me. Is the other person armed?” A door slammed. “Where is she?” Elaine jumped. “I don’t know.” A hand grabbed the phone from behind and threw it to the floor. Elaine screamed.
“Do you realize that you called emergency dispatch?” “Yes, I do.” “Are you in danger?” “Yes. That’s correct.” Her voice shook so she took a deep breath. The man marched down another aisle, knocking over more antiques.“What’s your address?”
“It’s 1409 Junction Ave. I need the items as soon as possible.”
Elaine held up a finger, surprised at her own courage. “Ma’am, I’m calling about an antique order that I placed weeks ago. It should have been here already. I own The Mother Lode Antique Shop in Sturgis, South Dakota.”
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He stomped toward her and ripped open the closet door beside her.Elaine’s pulse raced. “Please stop. There’s no one here.” She tightened her grip on her cell phone. “I know she’s here!” He slammed the door and stormed into the other show room. Vases fell off the shelves as he raged through her Whenstore. he turned from her, Elaine backed into the corner and dialed“9-1-1.9-1-1.What’s your emergency?” “I . . . “What’sum.”your emergency?”
In the kitchen, he pushed Elaine to the ground. Her head smacked against the cabinet. Pain exploded against her skull. She had to get away from him!
When he opened the broom closet, Elaine scooted across the floor. If she could just reach the back door. He cursed then took a step closer and grinned. “Maybe I don’t need her.” He grabbed Elaine’s arm and yanked her to her feet. She pulled against him until her shoulder throbbed. “You can take her place.” She whimpered, nausea rolling through her. “Who? Please, let me “Stop!go.”
g 6 G DakotaBeforeCourageshe could move, he leaned close, his body odor making her gag, and gripped her arm, dragging her through the old house. Her feet slipped over broken glass.
Sturgis Police! Get your hands up!”
A police officer rushed in from the dining room at the same time two burst through the back door. Three guns pointed at the man. The bald man let go, and Elaine crumpled to the cool tile floor. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold. Instead, she sat back and closed her eyes. Something crashed then scuffled. She pulled her legs up to her chest and covered her head. “Ma’am? Are you OK? Do you need an ambulance?” She took a deep breath and glanced up. Two officers held the bald man against the far wall. They had his arms behind him and his face pushed against the glass of her daisy painting. Relief replaced the fear that had shot through her. The police had saved her this time. “Do you need me to send for medical?” An officer with brown wavy hair knelt beside her. His dark brows squeezed together. “Are youElainehurt?”rubbed her shoulder. “No, I’m fine.” He smiled. “Do you need help standing?” She shook her head. Her legs quaked, so she gripped the counter behind her. Despite their recent heroics, law enforcement still made
She sucked in a breath. “Well, that’s not my real name. It’s Mary Russell. My married name is Russell. My husband died and I’ve reverted back to my maiden name, but legally it’s still Russell.” She clamped her mouth shut. She needed to calm down so she didn’t appear suspicious. He finished writing then looked up at her. “So your legal name is Mary Russell, but you go by Elaine Kent?” She the assailant?” She shook her head. A dull ache formed in the back of her head. She reached up and found a large, tender bump. “Maybe you should start from the beginning,” Officer McGuire said.“The beginning?” “Yes. Why did the assailant attack you?” “I don’t know. He kept asking me where she was, but no woman has been in here all day. Then he grabbed me and said I could take her place. That’s when you came in.” “What did he mean you could take her place?” “I have no idea.” He snapped his notebook shut. “Can we search the house? Maybe someone slipped in while you weren’t looking.” She hadn’t considered that. Elaine nodded. McGuire motioned to two other officers. “You check upstairs. Hewitt and I’ll check downstairs.”
“Elainename?”Kent.”
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“Donodded.youknow
Megan Kinney her nervous. When two officers escorted their handcuffed prisoner out the back door, Elaine took a deep breath. “I’m Officer McGuire,” said the brown-haired man. “Let’s sit while I ask you some questions.” He picked up the two chairs that had been knocked over and set them on either side of her light blue Formica-and-chrome table. She sank onto the vinyl seat while he sat across from her. He pulled out a notebook and pen. “What’s your
All she wanted was to curl up in bed and try to forget the day, but when she walked into the display room from the foyer, her feet crunched on the broken glass. Broken vases covered the floor. She should clean up, but her hands shook when she reached for the broom. The glass would have to wait until morning. Her phone lay somewhere in the mess, though. She meandered through the room to the foyer searching for it, finally spotting it next to the counter. As she bent to pick it up, Mitch’s teapot caught her eye. The ugly thing sat against the wall. She examined it, surprised that it had survived without a scratch. Maybe researching it’s worth
When the police finally left, she locked the doors after them and flipped the Open sign to Closed. It was only five o’clock, but she couldn’t stay in the shop any longer. Her head throbbed and her nerves were a burnt mess.
A shiver coursed through her. She had always felt safe in the converted Victorian house, but it suddenly seemed too quiet, and there were too many places to hide. She should have searched the house with the police.
g 8 G DakotaTheyCouragedisappeared, and Elaine squeezed her shaking fingers together. What if someone was lurking around? She raced to the back door and locked it. Hugging herself, she turned around. Her porcelain napkin holder lay broken on the floor. Her fingers shook as she picked up the pieces and threw them away. The daisy painting hung at an unusual angle. When she straightened it, she noticed the oil smudge from the bald man’s face. She shuttered as she sat. Who had he been looking for? She hoped he never found her. Feet stomped throughout the house. With the sound of policemen all around, her adrenaline faded. She laid her head on her hands. Her body slowly relaxed, finally feeling safe. Minutes later, Officer McGuire returned with a gentle smile. “There’s no one in the house. The detectives will question the assailant and hopefully get some answers. In the meantime, I’ll leave my business card if you think of any other information.”
Megan Kinney would distract her. She picked up her phone and relaxed—the screen protector had cracked but it worked.
She’d grown a lot since the sobbing mess she’d been only three months ago. She wasn’t going to let the day’s events pull her back into the hole of depression she’d clawed her way out of. If one antique could start her healing, maybe another could keep her on thatShepath.slipped into bed and unlocked her phone, anxious to research the teapot. Ugly antiques tended to surprise her with their worth. She opened a forum where she’d posted the picture earlier, scrolling down the page until . . . that horrible man’s face popped into her head. He had been so strong and could have carried her away without much effort. How could she keep herself safe? Better locks, for sure, but that wouldn’t help during business hours.
After turning off the lamp, she curled on her side and closed her eyes, but with his evil smirk and bruising treatment so fresh,
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Forgetting the teapot, she searched security systems. There were so many options. Too many price points. Her headache pounded. Once the rally was over, she’d look closer at installing a security system. Until then, she was safe as long as that man was locked up.
Elaine headed upstairs to her bedroom and twisted the skeleton key in the lock the behind her. It wouldn’t stop an intruder for long, but it made her feel a little safer. She switched on the small bedside lamp, filling the room with soft light and a sense of comfort. She ran her fingers along the beveled bumps and etched flowers on the crystal lamp shade and down the crystal base. She’d picked up the lamp at a garage sale. A dirty and stained lamp, with a sticky-note that said Broken. Back then, that note could have been glued to her forehead, as broken as she’d felt. That was why she decided that she’d find a way to not only fix the lamp, but hopefully find a way to fix her own brokenness.
g 10 G Dakota Courage she couldn’t settle her mind. Despite her pounding head, she threw the covers off and scurried to the adjacent room.
Within seconds, light filled the space and classical music blasted from her CD player. She squirted oil paint onto her pallet and smeared bright red onto a pure white canvas. Switching brushes, she painted broad strokes of purple then yellow. She didn’t care about technique or creating anything beautiful—she just wanted to paint away the anxiety that clawed at her.
By ten thirty, bursts of color that looked like fireworks filled the canvas, her stress and fear had fled, and she stood exhausted in front of her painting. After throwing her brushes into a jar of turpentine, she stumbled back to bed and fell asleep.