Bodyguard Lockdown Read online

  Her free time she’d spent on the boulders, sometimes talking with Aaron or one of the camp women, but mostly alone—listening to the wind, the quiet hum of her thoughts.

  Yet nothing eased her doubts, the nagging ache in her heart.

  Nothing blocked the image of Booker, pale and half-dead, from her mind.

  It had been close. His kidneys had shut down, his spleen hemorrhaged. The first she saved, the second she couldn’t.

  But he’d pulled through and healed quickly.

  She leaned back on her hands, closed her eyes, lost herself in the heat of the sun.

  The whistle, a low rendition of “You Are My Sunshine,” drifted over the boulder.

  Her eyes blinked open. “Go away, Booker.”

  Instead, he moved closer. “Now, Doc,” Booker drawled with his best Texan accent. “You know if I were that easy, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. You would have stuck it out at the hospital until I woke up.”

  “We’ve said everything that needed saying in the plane,” Sandra shot back, her gaze locking on his.

  His features had darkened, the lines on his face deepened, with fatigue or worry, she couldn’t be sure. He’d lost weight, grown whiskers, but neither dulled the sharp blue irises that drifted over her.

  “You said all you needed to say,” Booker corrected softly. “And all I needed to hear.”

  “And you said nothing.”

  “I was a little busy at the time, sweetheart,” Booker reasoned, his mouth twisting with amusement.

  “You lost your chance,” she managed, her voice calm. But her fingers trembled, her heart stumbled. “Shouldn’t you be at the palace?”

  “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  “Aaron told me that Jarek wants you back as his security consultant.”

  “I turned him down,” Booker replied. “I’m heading back to the States.”

  “Oh.” Something sharp hit Sandra in the chest. So she was a loose end. And he was leaving. So be it.

  She drew her knees back up, tightened her arms around her legs. “I guess we both got what we wanted.” She rocked, just a bit. To make the hurt go away.

  “Not even close.” Booker settled next her. “Have you talked with your parents?”

  Sandra stared off into the distance. “No. They’re on a long-needed vacation. The inquest was fast and efficient. President Mercer made sure of it.”

  “He was found innocent on all counts of treason,” Booker remembered. “I heard it on the news.”

  “Once my father’s involvement became public, he seemed relieved. My mother has been supportive. My brother, too.”

  “And you?”

  Sandra shrugged. “I realize he had no choice. But when he recruited me to work for Trygg—”

  “He didn’t give you a choice,” Booker finished, understanding. “You would have made the same decision, Doc. You would have helped Jonathon Mercer.”

  “I would have,” Sandra admitted. “But if my father had told me what Trygg was from the beginning...”

  She gave in to the urge and settled her chin on her knees. “So many died, Booker. I can’t help thinking that if my father had only trusted me, your men, Emily and your baby...”

  “Time to move on, Doc,” he said, studying the horizon. “Time to live our life for ourselves.”

  “I don’t know if I can, Booker. Not yet.”

  “I flew out to meet with them, you know. Your parents.”

  “You flew all the way out to Amsterdam?”

  “Your father and I had some things to settle. About Trygg. My men. You.”

  “My father never discusses his family.”

  “He loves you, Doc. He didn’t tell you about Trygg because he was trying to protect you. Kate was supposed to be the point person on Trygg but it never materialized. If they hadn’t pulled her from the project, Trygg would’ve killed Kate just like he killed Jim Rayo’s wife and all the others.”

  Sandra frowned, but said nothing.

  “By the time Kate left, it was obvious to your father you worshipped the ground Trygg walked on. And at that time you and your father were barely on speaking terms. If he had told you that Trygg was a traitor, would you have believed him?”

  Her head shot up. “Yes,” she defended.

  Booker’s eyebrow rose.

  Sandra sighed, then let her chin drop to her knees again. “Probably not.”

  “You need to talk with him, Doc. You need to forgive him. Life is too short to carry that kind of anguish inside.”

  Tears pricked at her eyes; her breath lumped in her chest. She would, too. She loved her father too much to do anything else. Still, she would need time to trust, but hopefully, that too would come.

  “Doc, you didn’t spend your whole life living up to Andon’s memory. You spent your whole life living through your father’s guilt,” Booker pointed out softly. He draped his arm over her shoulders, pulled her close. “Guilt that he is finally coming to terms with. Don’t you think it’s time you come to terms with your own and not take the twenty-five years it took your father?”

  The lump thickened until it rose to the back of her throat. “And you? Your guilt is gone?”

  He took her chin, tilted it until they were nose to nose. “I’m working on it.”

  “How?” Her breath caught, and love jolted through his chest, squeezed his heart.

  Instinctively, he drew her closer until they were chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. “I contacted my grandfather.”

  “You did?” One hand went to his chest, stopping him from drawing her in, from making her believe.

  The other went to her stomach, to protect, or maybe to wish...

  “Why did you see your grandfather?”

  “I don’t know,” Booker admitted. His hand slid up her spine, absently massaging the tension from her shoulders. “After I talked with your father, I found myself on my grandfather’s doorstep.”

  “Was he happy to see you?”

  “Shocked would be a better word,” Booker replied. His grandfather had not changed much over the years. Thin and frail, with very little hair, but the same sharp blue eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “He wants me to run his company. He’s been saving it for me in case I came around.”

  “Are you?” she demanded, her eyes wide, unbelieving again. “Coming around, I mean.”

  “Who knows?” He paused, then pulled back until their eyes met. A grin spread slowly across his mouth.

  Her heart bumped.

  “Yes, actually. I am.”

  “You lost me, Booker.” Sandra shook her head, confused. “You’re going to run his company?”

  “My grandfather offered to make his overseas headquarters here in Taer. Fifteen hundred people will be given jobs, and more than twice that number will relocate from the States,” Booker acknowledged. “It will mean a lot of traveling, since the main headquarters will remain in Texas. Six months here. Six months there.”

  “That’s quite a bargaining chip.”

  “Both will have a research department.”

  Sandra quirked an eyebrow. The sadness drowned in a thick haze of sudden anger. “I have a job. I don’t need you to find me one, Booker.”

  “You’re going to continue to work for Jarek as his royal physician?”

  “Most likely. He needs someone to replace my father, at least temporarily.” But she wasn’t sure. There was more than just herself to consider now. “I certainly don’t want to work for you. Or be anywhere near you for that matter. I don’t think we can go back, Booker. Too much has happened. There’s still too many secrets. And even more regrets.”

  Fear clamped in his gut, twisting his insides. “I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you in the desert,” he admitted quietly.

  Sandra stiffened, not sure she’d heard his words correctly.

  “We were at the oil drill site in Taer. You were standing there, across the sand. In a hat, sunglasses—” he glanced at
her shirt and pants “—the same khakis.”

  “They’re comfortable,” Sandra quipped, then frowned. “I remember that day, though. One of your men had been injured. He caught his leg in one of the winch chains.”

  “I hadn’t been that nervous since—” He swore silently. “Hell, I’ve never been that nervous. Except for now.”

  “Booker, this...” She waved her hand between them. “It will go away. It has to.”

  “It hasn’t for four years, Doc.”

  “Why now?” Sandra demanded. “Why couldn’t you have said all of this a year ago? Or even two months ago in the cave when we made love.”

  When we conceived our baby, she added silently.

  “When I married Emily, I thought I loved her. I thought she was all I wanted. Stability, comfort, family.”

  “It was there. You just didn’t have enough time with her,” Sandra insisted. “We stole that away from you.”

  “No,” Booker denied. “You can’t steal something that never existed in the first place.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Booker took Sandra’s hand. The calluses, the heated grip, invaded the dark part of her heart. She couldn’t bring up the strength to tug free.

  “Emily was the only child of an overindulgent father. She was too selfish, too vain to care about anything other than herself,” Booker told her. “Sandra, Em wasn’t coming to tell me she was overjoyed at being pregnant. She was coming to tell me she didn’t want my baby. She never wanted to get pregnant. The pregnancy wasn’t planned.”

  He paused for a moment. “She was leaving me. Her bags were packed and in the trunk of her car. She hated me enough to tell me in person that she was filing for a divorce and getting rid of my baby.”

  His voice rasped out the last word. Tears pricked at Sandra’s eyes. She blinked them away.

  “It took me all these years to sort it out in my mind,” Booker explained. “I think somehow, when I first met Emily, I compared her to my mother. An heiress of sorts, who would defy her father for an undying love.”

  “But Emily wasn’t like your mom.”

  “No, she married me on a whim. To get back at her father, I’m sure,” Booker admitted. “Their relationship was extreme in all emotions. Anger, love.”

  “She still didn’t deserve to die, Booker.”

  “No, she didn’t.” He brought Sandra’s hand to his cheek, pressed a soft kiss on her wrist.

  Her pulse quickened, her fingers caressed the whiskers, the slant of his jaw. It was then she understood she’d never be able to stop loving this man.

  But she could still walk away.

  “The revenge I took on Trygg wasn’t out of love for Emily or for my men, Sandra,” Booker admitted. “It was born from anger, guilt...pride. Loyalty maybe. But never love.”

  When she looked away, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her face back to his. “But when he took you? The rage, the fear I felt, rocked me to the core. I would have avenged you. And it would have been out of love.”

  “I don’t want you to avenge me.” This time Sandra did tug free. She rose to her feet, dusted off the back of her skirt. “It wouldn’t work, Booker. Every time we looked at each other, we’d remember what brought us together.”

  “Damn right it will,” Booker replied, grabbing her hand to keep her from leaving. “And I don’t ever want to forget.”

  Surprised, she looked at him. “What?”

  “I hope I never forget.” He tugged her hand, catching her in his arms and across his lap. Before she could move away, he hugged her to his chest. “You almost died on me, Doc. So many times, I’ve lost count.”

  “Five,” she admitted, somewhat reluctantly. “Six, if you include the moment on the plane when you couldn’t say you loved me.”

  “I was fighting my fear of losing you,” Booker admitted. He linked his fingers with hers, left them resting across her belly. “If I’d said the words out loud, I wouldn’t have been able to let you go.”

  “You didn’t let me go—you threw me out of the plane,” Sandra murmured. “Can’t get more decisive than that.”

  “You kicked me out of a helicopter first,” he reminded her with a smile. “I love you, Doc. And if it takes me our lifetime together to convince you, so be it.”

  “It just might.” Her voice hitched; her heart fluttered. “Just because I want you around for a lifetime, Booker.”

  He let out a long sigh. The vibration rumbled against her ear, making her want to sink farther into his chest.

  “Fine with me.” He tipped her chin up, kissed her softly on the lips. “I want to raise a family with you and grow old together.”

  “The family part is taken care of,” she whispered, the words bursting from her heart, shining through the sheen of tears in her eyes. “I would say in about seven months.”

  Booker slid his hand over her stomach with gentle fingers. “And the growing old together?”

  She laughed and hugged him close. “I guess that will happen if we stay away from high places.”

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt of Ultimate Cowboy by Rita Herron!

  We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Intrigue story.

  You crave excitement! Harlequin Intrigue stories deal in serious suspense, keeping you on the edge of your seat as resourceful, true-to-life women and strong, fearless men fight for survival.

  Enjoy six new stories from Harlequin Intrigue every month!

  Visit Harlequin.com to find your next great read.

  We like you—why not like us on Facebook: Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Follow us on Twitter: Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Read our blog for all the latest news on our authors and books: HarlequinBlog.com

  Subscribe to our newsletter for special offers, new releases, and more!

  Harlequin.com/newsletters

  Chapter One

  “This special news report just in—an amber alert has been issued for six-year-old Hank Forte. Hank was last seen at the county fair in Amarillo.”

  Brody Bloodworth’s heart clenched as a photo of the boy appeared on screen. The little boy had blond hair, was wearing a black T-shirt, jeans and cowboy boots. He could be one of the kids on the BBL, the Bucking Bronc Lodge he had started for needy children.

  But he reminded him more of his own little brother, Will, and launched him back seven years ago to the day Will had gone missing.

  Not from a county fair but from the rodeo where he was supposed to be watching him.

  Self-loathing and guilt suffused him, once again robbing his lungs of air. He understood what the family of that little boy was going through now. The panic. The fear.

  The guilt.

  If only they’d kept a better eye on him. If only they hadn’t turned their head for a minute.

  What was happening to him? Had he just wandered off? Would they find him hiding out or playing somewhere at the fair? Maybe he had fallen asleep in a stall housing one of the animals...

  Or had someone taken him? Maybe a desperate woman who’d lost a child and was out of her mind? A child predator who’d do God knows what?

  A killer?

  The reporter turned the microphone to Hank’s parents, a couple who were huddled together, teary-eyed and frightened. A second later, they began to plead for their son’s return, and the mother broke down into sobs.

  Brody hit the remote, silencing the heart-wrenching scene, but it played over and over in his head. But it wasn’t the Forte family’s cries he heard; it was his own family’s.

  His father who’d blamed him from the get-go.

  Because it was his fault.

  He glanced through the window at the sprawling acres and acres of land he’d bought, to the horse stables and pens and the boys that he’d taken in. All kids who had troubles, boys who needed homes and love and guidance.

  But no matter how much he did for them, it wouldn’t make up for losing his little brother.


  The clock in the hall struck 6:00 p.m., and he stood, pulled on his duster jacket and headed outside. One of his best men, Mason Blackpaw, and his fiancée, Cara Winchester, were getting married on the ranch in a few minutes. He’d promised he’d be there, and he was happy for his friend, but weddings always made him uncomfortable.

  And he’d attended a hell of a lot of them lately. In fact, all of his original investors had tied the knot. First Johnny Long, then Brandon Woodstock, Carter Flagstone, then Miles McGregor, and now Mason.

  Yanking at his tie to loosen the choking knot, he glanced at the field to the right where Mason had built a gazebo. Cara had rented tables and chairs and had decorated them with white linens, bows and fresh day lilies.

  Half wishing he could skip the ceremony, he started to turn and go back inside, but Mason strode up to the steps of the gazebo then glanced his way with a smile.

  Brody forced one in return. He couldn’t let his foul mood ruin his friend’s day.

  Still, it was all he could do to put on a congenial face as he took a seat in the back row. Weddings made him think of Julie Whitehead, the only girl he’d ever loved.

  The girl he’d snuck off to make out with at the rodeo, leaving his brother alone and unprotected.

  In the panicked and horrible days after Will had disappeared, he’d lashed out at Julie. He’d blamed her.

  But it was really himself he hated.

  Dammit, that news report had stirred it all up again, all the haunting memories. He needed to check the database for missing and exploited children, make sure Will’s information was still there.

  Over the years, he’d focused on making sure local law enforcement agencies as well as statewide ones didn’t give up looking. Even all these years later, he still had hope he’d find his brother.

  Although that hope was harder to hold on to every day.

  Worse, worry over what his brother had suffered ate at him constantly.

  Still, he had to know if he was dead or alive.

  * * *

  SPECIAL AGENT JULIE WHITEHEAD ran her finger over the embossed wedding invitation from Cara Winchester and Mason Blackpaw, then tossed it into the trash. She had worked with Mason on the Slasher case along with Detective Miles McGregor, tracking down a notorious serial killer who’d committed horrific crimes against women. During the case, they’d made friends, but she couldn’t bear to attend the couple’s wedding—not when it was taking place on the Bucking Bronc Lodge.