Excerpt of I Gave You My Heart, but You Sold It Online by Dixie Cash

Chapter 1

On a sunny October afternoon, Quint Matthews’ red Ford
truck roared along the endless gray highway that stretched
through the wide open spaces of far West Texas. As he sped
past tumbleweed forests, sparse mesquite trees stunted
from lack of moisture and scattered pumpjacks laboring
against the horizon, Quint returned his cell phone to its
cradle on his dash and cussed again.

This was getting old, damned old. The VISA customer
service representative had been polite, even sympathetic,
just as she had been every time he had called and reported
unauthorized charges on his credit card. His credit limit
was “no limit” and the girls in his office always paid his
bills on time. Canceling his card altogether was something
the bank had already proved it was not eager to do. “Don’t
worry, sir,” the customer service rep said. “We’ll cancel
this card and issue another.”

When he asked for help in identifying the unauthorized
user, she suggested he speak to the bank’s fraud and abuse
department. Quint had talked to the fraud and abuse
department a dozen times and gotten nothing but absurd
excuses about how the charges hadn’t been large enough to
set off alarms and cause automatic action.

The credit card abuse was aggravating enough, but the real
blow was that deep down in his heart and ego, Quint
believed he knew the abuser. Monica Hunter. It had to be
her. The pieces he already knew about fit the borders of
the jigsaw. What was missing was the rest of the puzzle.

Monica had entered his life like a Tsunami engulfing a
sleeping sunbather. Just when he had been playing it safe,
too.

And just when he had been vulnerable and recovering from
an experience so horrible he couldn’t bear to speak of it.
He might not talk about it, he might try not think about
it, but he would never forget how a good-looking redhead
had perpetrated an outrageous deception, fooled him
completely and publicly humiliated him. For months,
tabloid newspapers and magazines blaring about the scandal
had appeared beside the cash registers of every grocery
store in Texas. And who knew where else?

Since that nightmare, he had limited his social life to
hooking up with women through an exclusive--and expensive--
Internet dating site that thoroughly screened all of its
members. H is relationships with the women he met on the
Internet had amounted to nothing more than casual dinners
and one night stands. Then one evening as he surfed the
Net, Monica had come online and hit him harder than a
rodeo arena floor. Up to then, h e had been seeking
nothing serious with the fairer sex. Monica had turned his
world upside down . For ninety blissful days and nine
ideal evenings he had entertained the notion that he had
found The One.

Then she disappeared.

What had appeared, on the other hand, and in a matter of
hours, really, were myriad baffling charges on his VISA.

Well, he had no intention of shrugging it off and moving
on. No intention whatsoever. He was no ordinary lovesick
fool. What Monica didn’t know, couldn’t possibly know, was
just how royally she had screwed up. In the world Quint
Matthews had carefully carved for himself in years of
living the rough-and-tumble world of ProRodeo, he was The
King. And everybody knew, you don’t shit on The King.
Nosiree, baby. You don’t squat wearing spurs and you don’t
shit on Quint Matthews.

He picked up the phone again and keyed in another number
that had been programmed into his phone for several years.
On the third ring, he got an answer. He recognized the
hello and a sense of relief flowed through him. The voice
on the phone was the one he shouldn’t have let get
away. “Debbie Sue?” he said with a grin. “Hey, darlin’
this is Quint. How you doin’, sweetheart?”

“Why, Quint. What a surprise.”

Debbie Sue Pratt was the only human alive he trusted to
help him solve his current problem. “I’ve been thinking
about you, darlin’. When I need somebody good-looking and
clever, I always think of Debbie Sue Pratt.”

“Why, thank you, Quint, but you know my name isn’t Pratt
anymore.”

Shit . He did know that. He just didn’t like to think of
her being married to Buddy Overstreet. Buddy, who used to
be the sheriff in Cabell County, had always looked at him
with a jaundiced eye. These days the guy was a Texas state
trooper, working toward becoming a Texas Ranger. Big deal.

“Sure, darlin’,” he told the one who made him feel more
alive than any woman he had ever known. “I heard you and
Buddy got together again. But just because you got
married, you wouldn’t high-hat an old friend, would you?”

“Nope. Not for a minute.”

“You and your pal up for taking on a new customer?”

She laughed. “You need a detective?”

Quint laughed, too. He loved the way nothing got past her.

When Debbie Sue and her partner Edwina had solved the
mystery of Pearl Ann Carruthers’ murder, the reputation
for being experts at crime solving descended upon them.
Quint had even read about them in Texas Monthly. Debbie
Sue had taken advantage of the publicity. Dragging her
partner along, probably kicking and screaming, she had
opened sort of a private investigation agency in one end
of her beauty shop. The Domestic Equalizers, she had
bragged in the article, specialized in spoiling the fun of
philandering spouses and significant others.

Quint had neither, but when it came to his love life, he
might be better off if he did.

“I do need a detective, darlin’, and I need one now. Look,
I’m gonna be in Salt Lick on Saturday. You think Buddy
would care if I stopped by your shop for a little visit?”

To Buddy Overstreet, Quint suspected, a visit to his wife
by Quint Matthews would be about as welcome as a drunk
driver traveling the wrong direction on I-20. Buddy didn’t
have to worry, though. Under the present circumstances,
Quint’s interest in Debbie Sue had to be more professional
than carnal. He listened again as she told him to come on
by the shop any time.

“Hey, thanks, Debbie Sue. I’ll call when I get into Salt
Lick. You’re the only one I can trust.”

Why did he trust only her? Because she was honest and
loyal to her old friends. She would keep what he told her
in the strictest confidence. Despite their rocky history,
he had no doubt she would take his best interest to heart.

Disconnecting, he felt better. There was just something
about that woman’s attitude that made him believe his
problem was near an end.

Debbie Sue turned from the Styling Station’s payout desk
and looked at Edwina Perkins-Martin, her longtime friend
and now her business partner.

A frown creased Edwina’s brow. “Good Lord, who died?”

“You’re not gonna believe who that was,” Debbie Sue said.

“From the look on your face I’d say it was the Angel of
Death and you’re next on his list.”

“Quint. That was Quint Matthews. He’s coming to see me.”

“Bingo!” Edwina said. “I’m right again.”

The driver of a plain, dark blue sedan slowed and switched
to the right lane behind an eighteen-wheeler. Keeping
sight of Quint Matthews’ bright-red one-ton truck was
easy. It didn’t blend in with the rest of the traffic and
if it should, the vanity license plate, “RODOMAN,” was
easy to spot. Rodeo Man. The driver chuckled. It was hard
to tell which was bigger, the rig that was in Quint’s
control or the ego that wasn’t.

Following Quint stealth-like wasn’t the ideal means to an
end, but what choice was there? Being recognized could
cause a confrontation and ruin everything. A clash with
him could be ugly, even dangerous. Behind his public
successful businessman façade he was still an ex-
professional athlete, strong as the bulls he used to ride.
He was capable of physical harm. His quick temper had
erupted over smaller things than his public image.

The most important thing was to avoid
identification. “Just keep a low profile,” the driver
mumbled to no one, “and have a little patience”