As the daughter of a Native American chief, Remi soon has to rely on ancestral instinct to save herself.
In the public eye, her marriage to Dr. Marshall Wagner is one to be envied, but their intimate life is a farce –
her husband is enjoying forbidden sexual adventures elsewhere.
Turnabout is foul play. With Marshall’s dark secret about to be exposed, Remi’s life is endangered.
When she’s abducted by one of his enemies, watch out for Remi as she digs deep to assure her survival – she’s about to become a real a badass.
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Marshall Wagner studied Remi coffee it up on the porch with bemusement.
She smiled at the charm of turquoise and ruby throated hummingbirds buzzing around some Crepe Myrtle and the feeders she refreshed daily. The creepy little suckers looked more like dragonflies than birds to him, but Remy doted on them.
Her gardening gloves and tools lay next to the cartons of spring annuals she’d purchased at the nursery the day before, and he shook his head.
Why she liked fooling around in the dirt or feeding the wild life was beyond him. As the wife of an important physician, she could be doing anything else her heart desired.
“Darling, I enjoy being one with the Earth,” Remi reminded him whenever he criticized her outdoor hobbies. “All living things God has created come from the land, one way or another.”
Marshall left the window, checked his appearance in the mirror, and then smiled at his reflection. He was a great provider, a well off and educated man who’d rather pay a gardener to handle such filthy chores.
Still, Remi’s faults were few. Her passion for him in bed had been gratifying, once upon a time, and she cooked decent meals the rare evenings they dined at home. Her long raven hair glistened with health and rusty highlights when she wore it loose; her dark brown eyes always sparkled with cheer.
That her maiden name was Roundwater, signifying her Native American heritage, bothered him not a whit, since she was by far the most exotic woman out of many attending the same social gatherings they did – and a compliment to his good taste.
Remi smiled a welcome to her handsome husband as he joined her. All six foot of him shouted masculinity – a feast for the eyes and a blessing she cherished to heart.
She rose from the ground where she’d begun digging new homes for the plants, trowel in hand. “Leaving so soon?” she asked. “I thought your hours didn’t start until ten this morning.”
Her husband waved to Harry their landscaper edging the lawn. “They don’t, but I have a ton of reports to review and didn’t feel like bringing them home Friday.” He gave her knees a critical glance. “Why don’t you kneel on a cushion or something? Not even nine yet and you’re grimy.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Marshall, that’s what the Lord made showers for,” she teased. “Am I cooking dinner tonight, or do we have somewhere to be?”
“No, dinner at home would be fine. Why don’t you make that honey braised salmon I like? It’s delish.”
Remi stood on her toes and planted a wet kiss on his mouth. “Not a problem,” she replied. “See you tonight when I’m all clean and sweet.” She pulled off one of the gloves, wrapped an arm around his waist, and tried to pull him closer. “Maybe I can conjure up something extra special for dessert. How about some champagne and strawberries in bed?”
Marshall nodded, but his wife couldn’t help but notice how inched away to avoid soiling his designer suit. “We’ll see. Gotta run, my love,” he said. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and headed to his Porsche.
Remi watched him drive away and sighed.
God knew she did her best to make her husband happy. “How is it I always seem to fail, when I try so hard to be a good wife?” she muttered, returning to her tasks in the garden.
Tongue between her teeth, she carefully situated begonias between the perennials she’d planted two years prior, but her mind remained on Marshall’s sour attitude.
Remi’s peripheral vision had noted his stares from the window while she drank her coffee, along with the scowl marring his attractive features. She’d also seen him preen in front of the foyer mirror like a conceited cat.
“Perhaps he’s worried about growing older,” she told the Daylilies about to bloom. “Though I can’t imagine why. He may be approaching forty, but there’s not a speck of gray in his thick, brown hair.” Her heart beat a tad faster. “Oh, I could drown in the green valley of his eyes,” she whispered to the Coral Bells, as she planted them in the soft earth.
“He’s a beautiful man.”
A car horn distracted Remi from her girlish reverie and she got to her feet, shading her eyes from the sun.
“Hey, can you please tell me where the Butler’s live?” a woman shouted from the car. “I’m afraid I’m lost.”
“No, sorry,” she said, walking down the driveway towards the older sedan idling in the street. “I’m not familiar with the neighbors.”
“That’s a shame,” the woman replied, giving Remi the fish-eye. “You Marshall’s wife?”
An eerie feeling cramped her gut. The woman wearing over sized sunglasses and frowzy blonde wig clearly didn’t want to be recognized. “How do you know my husband?” she asked. “Who are you?”
“Nobody you need to worry about. Good day,” the odd woman answered before the car screeched away.
Remi’s teeth chattered as her instinct for danger kicked in. She raced backed to the safety of the house and locked the door behind her.
“It’s times like this I wish we had a dog,” she thought. “A great big one.”