Tempestuous Taurus Read online

  Table of Contents

  TEMPESTUOUS TAURUS

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  TEMPESTUOUS TAURUS

  Zodiac Series

  TRISH JACKSON

  SOUL MATE PUBLISHING

  New York

  TEMPESTUOUS TAURUS

  Copyright©2020

  TRISH JACKSON

  Cover Design by Fiona Jayde

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, business establishments, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. 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 both the copyright owner and the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

  Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Published in the United States of America by

  Soul Mate Publishing

  P.O. Box 24

  Macedon, New York, 14502

  ISBN: 978-1-64716-059-3

  www.SoulMatePublishing.com

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  For all equine therapists,

  who bring hope to those with special needs.

  Chapter 1

  Tara-Grace bit her lower lip and blew out a hard breath. She looked at the clock on the dashboard. Three forty-seven. She’d been driving nonstop for almost eight hours.

  Her heartbeat sped up, her chest tight as she pulled the SUV over and stopped on the side of the road.

  She rolled her stiff shoulders and stared at the overhead ranch gate in front of her. Taurus Center for Equine Therapy, with a charging bull at one end and a galloping horse at the other. She didn’t need to be reminded that the equine center was now hers and her brother Cory’s, along with the house. That was the reason she had made the journey from Arizona.

  Her mother and Aunt Lacey had started the Center years ago when Tara‘s little sister, Cassie, was diagnosed with autism. Tara couldn’t remember much about it because she had been five at the time, but her mom told her later that Cassie, at three years old, hardly spoke, and had never shown affection to anyone. She seemed to dwell in her own little world, fixated on a toy zebra she carried around wherever she went and screamed if it was taken away.

  Tara knew a fair amount about how horses could help with anxiety, cerebral palsy, dementia, depression, PTSD, and autism. She didn’t fully understand how it worked, but it was partially something to do with the rhythmic movement of the horse. Autism cannot be cured, but the horses had worked their magic on Cassie, who had learned to speak and interact with people, and even to respond to affection.

  If only she knew where Cassie was now. She took off after their parents died and no one had seen her since.

  She wound down a window and the familiar scent of pines and grass warmed by the sun brought a fleeting picture of her happy, carefree childhood days with her brother and sister.

  This was her family home. The only home Tara had ever known when she was growing up, where the memories should have been wonderful. But her life had been turned upside down and everything was screwed up in one night of unspeakable horror—the brutal murders of her parents.

  She sucked in long breaths of air and blew them out slowly as she eased the SUV up the driveway. It didn’t seem so hard three years ago, the last time she visited the ranch. She parked under the giant oak tree, turned off the engine, and stared up at the imposing old house with its steeply pitched shingle roof and tall, ivy-clad pillars. It used to be Wedgewood blue, but now the siding was buckled in places, the paint peeling. It looked a little sad and neglected. Her brow creased. Why had it not been maintained? Aunt Lacey had loved the place, and she surely had the money to afford the upkeep.

  A red pickup truck appeared from behind the house and flew past her. As it came level, her eyes met those of the driver, and her heart—her whole body, lurched. “What the . . . ?” How could that be possible? She must be seeing things. It couldn’t be him. Jared, her high school sweetheart, was locked up on death row in Huntsville, Texas’s most notorious prison—the prison that put more people to death each year than any other in the entire USA. She shuddered at the thought.

  She stared after the truck as it reached the paved road, swung left, and moved out of sight behind the row of cypress trees. Her heart pounded out of control as she wiped her sweaty hands on her jeans, fighting to compose herself. What in hell’s name had gotten into her? The first person she saw and she immediately thought it was Jared. Dumb.

  The sadness of Aunt Lacey’s death rushed back and she blinked back tears.

  The property had been her aunt and mother’s family home. When Tara’s parents had married, they had moved into the main house, and Aunt Lacey, who was single, was content to make the guest cottage her home.

  When Tara’s parents were so cruelly taken, they had left no will. Aunt Lacey was a one-third owner of the home and land, and
according to state law, as a joint tenant, the real property became one hundred percent hers. She was also a fifty percent partner in the business, and the legalities of the partnership made her the sole owner. She had moved out of the cottage and into the main home.

  Tara, Cory, and Cassie inherited their parents’ other assets, but they had to wait four years for probate. Tara was eighteen at the time of their deaths, and about to leave for college. Cory had already graduated and was working in Florida. Aunt Lacey said she would adopt Cassie, who was sixteen, and take care of her, but that never happened.

  She slipped her flip-flops on, climbed out of the vehicle, and stared at the empty road where she had last seen the pickup. The same questions that had no answers swirled in her head. She had always believed Jared had loved her parents, so what would make him turn on them like that and slaughter them? But DNA didn’t lie. She had loved Jared so fiercely, so deeply. Too deeply. They had made so many plans for the future—marriage, children, and a life filled with laughter and happiness.

  She sighed and headed up the brick-paved pathway to the solid oak front door. The garden had always been wild, with tangled vines and bright multi-colored flowers blooming around the edge of the lawn. She inhaled the sweet scent of the spring honeysuckle and jasmine. Cardinals and wrens chirped and sang, and a lone tree frog piped. Someone had trimmed the weeds and mowed the lawn. They probably had a landscape service company.

  Even though it looked a little worse for wear, the house had an imposing entrance, and the red and orange geraniums in the window boxes made a bright display.

  The red pickup truck had some writing on the door, but she hadn’t read it. Her focus had been on the occupant. Whoever was in the truck had the same piercing blue eyes as Jared. She edged the flower pot sideways to reveal the dull bronze key. She picked it up with shaking hands. It took three tries before she could get it into the keyhole and turn it. She took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

  Chapter 2

  Jared White looked down at his pale knuckles and forced himself to relax his grip on the steering wheel. It was her, and he had just blown by without even a wave. She had recognized him, he was sure, in those few seconds when their eyes met. Did she know he was free?

  She looked the same. Her honey-colored hair curled around her heart-shaped face, and her amber eyes were still too big for her face.

  Jules, who worked at the Therapy Center and was a trusted friend of Tara’s, had promised Jared she would keep the news of his freedom to herself, but he had no way of knowing who else Tara was in contact with in town.

  He wanted to be there physically to see her reaction when she found out he’d been cleared of all wrongdoing.

  He would never forget the shock when they told him his DNA had been found on the murder weapon. His blood smeared all over her parents’ kitchen knife, together with theirs. He’d been in the house many times visiting Tara. Maybe he had handled that knife while helping out in the kitchen or making a sandwich for his never-ending hunger. The evidence showed what was supposedly his fresh blood. He knew that wasn’t possible, but the lead detective, Evinrude, had homed in on him. It seemed like he wanted a perp and he’d decided it was Jared. He said Jared’s motive was to be able to marry Tara. He made up a whole lot of bullshit about her parents opposing the relationship because they were well-off and he was a poor kid who’d been in foster care most of his life until his brother was old enough to take care of him.

  He made out that Jared wanted a share of their money, but it was all bull. He loved Tara. He didn’t choose her because she came from a family with more money than him—love didn’t work that way. And anyhow, he’d never thought about their money before Evinrude brought it up at the trial.

  The night Tara’s parents had been murdered, Jared was in his room at his brother Dan’s apartment where he lived, all night, but Dan was working the night shift and couldn’t vouch for his brother’s whereabouts.

  He understood why the detectives interviewed him—they always looked at the people closest to the victims, but Jared had been so sure they would find the killer and eliminate him as a suspect.

  And then the surreal events that followed; his arrest, and ten years of hell, first in jail awaiting trial and then getting the death sentence. No one could know what that was like—to hear those words Guilty as charged, unless it happened to them. The inconsolable, gut-clenching terror of that moment had stuck with him all these years. And then the sentencing. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die for someone else’s crime. This is so wrong.

  His court-appointed attorney had done his best, but the DNA evidence had to be what swayed the jury. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to frame him and if he ever found out who, he was going to beat the crap out of him. And how in the hell did they do it? Jared didn’t bleed on that knife—the murder weapon. Never.

  Huntsville was brutal—everything about it. The hardened criminals he was forced to live with, being watched and told what to do every minute of every day, and the soul-destroying isolation. He worked out as best he could to keep his body strong, and finished his computer science degree, but there was way too much time for thinking. Almost all of his thoughts revolved around the woman he loved—had loved, for as long as he could remember. The look of disgust in Tara’s eyes the last time he saw her totally crushed him. It was like she’d grabbed his heart and ripped it out of his body.

  He’d tried not to think about execution. Would it hurt? Would he be able to keep his composure? He didn’t want to die for a crime he didn’t commit, and he most certainly didn’t want a bunch of strangers watching him do it.

  Then Jack Trapper from the Innocence Project contacted him and that tiny glimmer of hope that brought tears to his eyes and made him tremble all over was like nothing he’d ever experienced before or after. Hope was a small word, but its implications were enormous. Tara’s aunt, Lacey Johnson, had contacted Jack and made him consider that Jared could be innocent.

  One thing he learned was that anything to do with the law and legal stuff was going to take time. From the time Jack and his partners had first met with him and interviewed him, to the day Jared was released, had taken four years, five months, and six days. Mostly, they were investigating and digging deeper for something—anything that would prove he wasn’t guilty of such a horrific crime. They managed to prove the DNA on the knife wasn’t a match. Jack and his amazing team were able to have the DNA on the murder weapon re-tested. It didn’t match Jared’s DNA, and a big investigation into the laboratory and its practices had been launched, which took forever, and then the DNA was tested once more.

  The lab technician who had originally tested the blood on the knife and provided the results had since passed away in a motorcycle wreck. No one could answer for the mistake or explain how he could have reported that the blood belonged to Jared. The supervisor who had signed off on the DNA test said he―the lab tech―was a conscientious employee and she’d had no reason to believe he hadn’t done his job correctly.

  The welling of emotions the day of his release made Jared’s chest feel like it was going to burst. The elation, the triumphant whoops that wanted to escape his lips, the fear—terror that someone might change their mind at the last minute.

  Jack had arranged for him to leave through a back way to avoid the pressing throng of reporters, and he held on to Jared’s arm during the long walk down the echoing corridor to the outside and freedom. The only sound was the slapping of their shoes on the tiles. Jared was thankful Jack didn’t try to make conversation, but he appreciated the physical support. His legs were weak and shaky.

  They shook hands and then hugged. How did you thank someone who had saved your life?

  A corrections officer opened the door. “Good luck,” Jack had said and patted Jared on the shoulder before turning around and leaving.

  Jared almost collapsed when he found Miss Lace
y waiting there with open arms. They hugged, both sobbing uncontrollably.

  Remembering his release still made Jared choke up even now after ten years, and he would never be able to thank Jack enough for what he and his team had done.

  Re-entering society in the small dusty town of Hardship, Texas, hadn’t been a walk in the park, but he’d no other place to go. Hardship was the only home he had ever known. His parents had died when he was only three, and he’d been in and out of foster homes until his brother, Dan, was old enough to take custody of him. He wiped the tears that sprang into his eyes. Dan had died while he was in prison. A hit and run. A vehicle ran into him while he was walking the three blocks to church. It was ruled an accident, but the vehicle was never found and there were no witnesses. Very few businesses had CCTV in a small town like Hardship, and the case had gone cold. Jared guessed the driver was either drunk or texting, but there wasn’t a lot he could do at the time, from prison. Since then, he’d done everything in his power to motivate the detectives to find the driver, but no leads had been found and the case had gone cold again.

  If it wasn’t for Lacey Johnson allowing him to sleep in the guest cottage of her home—which was now Tara-Grace and her brother, Cory’s, home, he would’ve had to sleep in his truck. The reporters hadn’t found out where he was for a while, until one of them followed him home and then they made his life hell for a few weeks. He’d since moved out and taken a room at Mrs. Pocket’s Boarding House—the closest thing to a hotel in Hardship.

  Miss Lacey had never believed he was guilty and on top of that, she had managed to convince some of Hardship’s residents. The angry stares and mothers hustling their children away had been tough, but in time, they’d stopped. He had learned to avert his eyes and only speak to people who approached him.

  Tara was always in his thoughts, but he was afraid of what her reaction would be if he contacted her. She had said some pretty harsh things to him after the sentencing.