by B. J Daniels
Hud could hear the joy in Dana’s voice. “I told you that it would just take time, didn’t I? This is great news.”
“I never thought he’d get over Naomi,” she said, but quickly brightened again. “I can’t wait to meet this woman and see our son. It’s been too long.”
He couldn’t have agreed more. “How’s Mary?”
“She’s picking up Chase at the hospital. Given the big smile on her face when she left the ranch, I’d say she’s going to be just fine. How do you feel about a wedding or two in our future?”
He chuckled. “You just read my mind, but don’t go counting your chickens before they hatch. Let’s take it one at a time.” But he found himself smiling as he hung up. Hank was coming home. He’d missed his son more than he could even tell Dana. He just hoped Hank really was moving on.
* * *
CHASE COULDN’T WAIT to see Mary. He was champing at the bit to get out of the hospital. He’d called a local jewelry store and had someone bring up a tray of engagement rings for him to choose one. He refused to put it off until he was released. The velvet box was in his pocket. Now he was only waiting for the nurse to wheel him down to the first floor—and Mary—since it was hospital policy, he’d been told.
Earlier, his father had stopped by. Chase had been glad to see him. Like his father, he’d made mistakes. They were both human. He’d been angry with a man who hadn’t even known he existed. But he could understand why his mother had kept the truth from not only him, but also Jim Harris.
He didn’t know what kind of relationship they could have, but he no longer felt as if there was a hole in his heart where a father should have been. Everyone said Jim was a good man who’d had some bad luck in his life. Chase couldn’t hold that against him.
When his hospital room door opened, he heard the creak of the wheelchair and practically leaped off the bed in his excitement. He and Mary had been apart for far too long. He didn’t want to spend another minute away from her. What they had was too special to let it go. He would never take their love for each for granted again.
To his surprise, it wasn’t the nurse who brought in the wheelchair. “Mary?”
She looked different today. He was trying to put his finger on what it was when she grinned and shoved the wheelchair to one side as she approached.
* * *
MARY COULDN’T EXPLAIN the way she felt. But she was emboldened by everything that had happened. When Chase had first come back, she’d told herself that she couldn’t trust him after he’d left Montana. But in her heart, she’d known better. Still, she’d pushed him away, letting her pride keep her from the man she loved.
Instead, she’d trusted Lucy. The red flags had been there, but she’d ignored them because she’d wanted to like her. She’d missed her friends who had moved away. She’d been vulnerable, and she’d let a psychopath into her life.
But now she was tired of being a victim, of not going after what she wanted. What she wanted was Chase.
She stepped to him, grabbed the collar of his Western shirt and pulled him into a searing kiss. She heard his intake of breath. The kiss had taken him by surprise. But also his shoulder was still healing.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing back, her face heating with embarrassment.
“I’m not,” he said as he pulled her to him with his good arm and kissed her. When she drew back he started to say something, but she hushed him with a finger across his lips. “I have to know, Chase Steele. Are you going to be mine or not?”
He let out a bark of a laugh. “I’ve always been yours, Mary Savage.”
She sighed and said, “Right answer.”
His grin went straight to her heart. He pulled her close again and this time his kiss was fireworks. She melted into his arms. “Welcome home, Chase.”
* * *
The Cardwell Ranch: Montana Legacy series
by New York Times bestselling author
B.J. Daniels continues with Hank’s Story.
Read on for a sneak peek.
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Iron Will
by B.J. Daniels
Hank Savage squinted into the sun glaring off the dirty windshield of his pickup as Cardwell Ranch came into view. He slowed the truck to a stop, resting one sun-browned arm over the top of the steering wheel as he took it all in.
The ranch, with its log and stone structures, didn’t appear to have changed in the least. Nor had the two-story house where he’d grown up. Memories flooded him of hours spent on the back of a horse, of building forts in the woods around the creek, of the family sitting around the large table in the kitchen in the mornings, the sun pouring in, the sound of laughter. He saw and felt everything he’d given up, everything he’d run from, everything he’d lost.
“Been a while?” asked the sultry dark-haired woman in the passenger seat.
He nodded around the lump in his throat, shoved back his Stetson and wondered what the hell he was doing back here. This was a bad idea, probably his worst ever.
“Having second thoughts?” He’d warned Frankie about his big family, but she’d said she could handle it. He wasn’t all that sure he could handle this. He prided himself on being fearless about most things. Give him a bull that hadn’t been ridden, and he wouldn’t hesitate to climb right on. Same with his job as a lineman. He’d faced gale winds hanging from a pole to get the power back on, braved getting fried more times than he liked to remember.
But coming back here, facing the past? He’d never been more afraid. He knew it was just a matter of time before he saw Naomi—just as he had in his dreams, in his nightmares. She was here, right where he’d left her, waiting for him as she had been for eight long years. Waiting for him to come back and make things right.
He looked over at Frankie. “You sure about this?”
She sat up straighter to take in the ranch and him, took a breath and let it out. “I am if you are. After all, this was your idea.”
Like she had to remind him. “Then I suggest you slide over here.” He patted the seat between them and she moved over, cuddling against him as he put his free arm around her. She felt small and fragile, certainly not strong enough for what was to come. For a moment, he almost changed his mind. It wasn’t too late. He didn’t have the right to involve her in his past.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said, and nuzzled his neck where his dark hair curled at his collar. “Trust me.”
He pulled her closer and let his foot
up off the brake. The pickup began to roll toward the ranch. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Frankie. He just knew that it was only a matter of time before Naomi came to him, pleading with him to do what he should have done eight years ago. He felt a shiver even though the summer day was unseasonably warm.
I’m here.
Available August 2019 wherever
Harlequin books are sold.
Copyright © 2019 by Barbara Heinlein
Keep reading for an excerpt from Calculated Risk by Janie Crouch.
Calculated Risk
by Janie Crouch
Chapter One
Bree Daniels froze, fork halfway to her mouth, at the sound of the knock at her apartment door. She forced herself to put the fork down slowly and remain calm.
A knock on the door wasn’t a cause for panic for most people. But from the time Bree was twelve, she’d been taught that danger of the most deadly kind could wait on the other side of any door.
She took a deep breath and let it out.
It wasn’t that no one ever knocked on her door. She regularly ordered things that had to be delivered. As a matter of fact, most of her shopping was done online. Everything from clothing to groceries. Buying what she needed on the internet meant less interaction with people and no need to leave her downtown Kansas City apartment.
But Bree always knew exactly—usually to the hour—when the items would arrive. When a knock would come on her door.
This was not one of those times.
She waited, hoping it was just some kid or lost person who would go away, tensing when a second knock came. She stood, moving toward the emergency bug-out bag she kept packed in the coat closet. It contained everything she needed for a quick getaway: clothing, a wad of cash, a few items that could be used to change her appearance and a fake ID she’d never used.
She hadn’t needed the bag since arriving here three years ago on her twenty-first birthday. She didn’t want to use it now unless she absolutely had to. Despite the wisdom of it, she loved this little apartment. It had become home. She didn’t want to leave.
A woman’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Bethany?”
Now Bree ran for the closet. It was definitely time for the bug-out bag.
Nobody knew her by the name Bethany. At least, no one who wanted her alive.
Another soft knock. Another whisper at the door. “Please, Bethany. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Bree didn’t stop, just grabbed the bag and ran toward the window in the living room. The fire escape outside her second-floor apartment was the reason she had chosen this unit in the first place.
Always have multiple exits. Always have a plan.
And she did. To get the hell out. She was climbing through the window when she heard the words from the door.
“Crisscross, applesauce.”
Bree froze. No, it couldn’t be. She hadn’t heard those words, the code she’d shared with her cousin when they were younger, in more than a decade.
Melissa had been the only person Bree had ever truly opened up to, the only person who’d taken the time to try to understand the socially awkward Bethany. Their upbringing had been isolated and cold—before Bree’s had turned into a total nightmare—but together it had been bearable.
Crisscross, applesauce.
That phrase had been their agreed-upon code, hidden from the Organization, to let each other know if they were truly in need.
They were quite possibly the only words in the world that could’ve stopped Bree from crawling out that window and leaving here forever.
Was it a trap?
If Bree’s mother was still alive, she would’ve definitely said yes. They would’ve already been out the window and moving to separate locations to meet up later if it was safe. That had always been their agreed-upon plan, even when it meant Bree had to spend a week living by herself when she was fourteen. Whatever kept them alive.
Knowing she might be making the worst mistake of her life, that her mother was probably rolling over in her grave, Bree stopped and turned back toward her front door.
Saying a quick prayer and calling herself all sorts of stupid, she cracked open the door.
She knew immediately it was Melissa. She was more than a decade older than when Bree had last seen her at thirteen, but her features and long blond hair were still the same. Bree had been so jealous of Mel’s beautiful curls when they were kids. Her own straight brown hair had seemed so boring in comparison.
She’d made a mistake by opening the door. Even if Melissa wasn’t here because she meant to kill her—and Bree still wasn’t sure of that—Melissa was part of a life Bree wanted nothing to do with.
“I’m sorry, you’ve got the wrong place. There’s nobody by that name here.” Bree quickly shut the door.
“Bethany, I know it’s you. Please, it’s Melissa. I’m not going to hurt you, and I haven’t told anybody in the Organization where you are. But I need your help.”
Bree rested her forehead against the door. It had been so long since...everything. Since seeing Melissa. Since hearing anyone call her by her real name.
Since talking to anyone person to person at all.
“Crisscross, applesauce. Crisscross, applesauce.” Melissa kept softly saying it over and over against the door.
Shaking her head, Bree opened it again.
“Oh, God, thank you,” Melissa said before Bree yanked her inside. Immediately Bree started patting down her cousin, looking for a weapon. Not finding one didn’t make her feel any better. If the other woman was here to betray Bree, she wouldn’t be here alone.
“I don’t have any guns,” Melissa said as Bree finished the pat down. “And I don’t have very much time.”
“Why are you here, Mel?”
Bree stood stiff as her cousin threw her arms around Bree’s torso. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had hugged her. Her mom had stopped long before she died.
“Why are you here?” she asked again. “How did you find me?”
Melissa stepped back. “I discovered you were in Kansas City a few months ago. But only recently did I find this place.”
Bree tried to focus on what Melissa was saying and not on the fear coursing through her system. If Melissa could find her, so could the rest of the Organization.
Melissa grabbed her hands. “Nobody knows but me. I promise. I need your help, Bethany.”
“Bree,” she said automatically. “I go by Bree now.”
“Bree. It suits you.” Melissa gave her a small smile, her hands wringing. “I don’t have much time. It won’t take them long to figure out I’m gone. They’re suspicious already.”
Bree watched her closely, still ready to run if needed. “What do you need?”
“I found out the truth about the Organization. I want to get out. I’ve wanted to for a long time, but now I think I have the means.”
Bree shut her eyes and shook her head. “I—”
“Things are so much worse now than when you were there. The things they can do now...”
Bree didn’t want to get drawn back into this. She was already going to have to run again. The thought of leaving this place hurt. “I can’t help you. Honestly, I’m not in any position to help anyone. And if you know I’m here, the Organization does, too.”
Melissa grabbed Bree’s hand, and she fought not to flinch away. “No, they don’t know. They may know I’m here, but they don’t know it’s you. And I have a couple of allies on the inside now. People who can be trusted.”
The only person Bree trusted was herself. When it came to the Organization, the price on her head was too high to trust anybody.
The phone in Melissa’s hand pinged, and she let out a curse.
“I’m out of time.” Her features became more pinched. “There�
�s so much I need to tell you. Please, Bethany—Bree—please meet me tonight so I can explain everything. There’s so much more at stake than you could ever dream, than I could’ve ever dreamed. I have to make my move now or I’ll lose everything.” Desperation dripped from every word.
“Mel, I just don’t think—”
“Just meet me tonight,” Melissa cut her off. “At the downtown train station at midnight. I’ll bring the hard drive. It has everything we need to truly get our freedom. I’ll show you why it’s critical I make my move now.”
When the phone in her hand beeped again, Melissa bolted to the door. She turned, eyes entreating. “Crisscross, applesauce, Bethany. Please.”
All Bree could do was watch her go.
* * *
TWELVE HOURS LATER, at almost midnight, Bree sat in her car in a location giving her good visual access to the train station.
She was making a mistake. She knew she was making a mistake, that this was all going to end badly...yet here she was.
She’d been watching the station for the past two hours, looking for any sign that Melissa had set her up, that this was a trap and the Organization would be moving in to capture Bree.
She’d found no indication at all that that was the case.
Just like she’d found no indication of betrayal after she’d immediately vacated her apartment this afternoon when Melissa left. As far as Bree could tell—and she’d become very proficient at the tactical skill of observation—no one had been watching or following her all day.
It disturbed her slightly how much she wanted to believe her cousin’s intentions were good. Even if it went against the idea her mother had spent so many years instilling: no one could be trusted.
In the end, her mother hadn’t even trusted Bree. She rubbed the raised flesh of the knife scar on her shoulder under her shirt. Her mother’s parting gift, before taking her own life, thinking Bree was about to do it.