by Harper Allen
“Don’t start what you can’t finish, honey.”
He lifted his mouth from hers to mutter the warning against her lips. “If we go through with this, it’s on the understanding that tomorrow no one gets to pretend it didn’t happen. If you can’t handle that, tell me now.”
A shiver ran all the way from her heels to the top of her head, and back down again. Arching against him, Caro let her fingertips curl against the muscled wall of his chest, and pressed her nails lightly into his skin. “Don’t worry about me, Gabe, worry about yourself.”
She didn’t know where the reckless words had come from. She knew he’d walk out of her life again. But he was never going to forget her completely. She was going to make sure of that tonight.
“Worry about myself?” There was startled humor in his eyes. “Princess, I can handle anything you dish out, and then some. I’ll admit you rocked my world the last time we—”
“I didn’t just rock your world, Riggs, I sent a 9.5 on the Richter scale through it,” Caro retorted. “This time, I intend to bring you to your knees.”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Those April showers go hand in hand with a welcome downpour of gripping romantic suspense in the Harlequin Intrigue line this month!
Reader-favorite Rebecca York returns to the legendary 43 LIGHT STREET with Out of Nowhere—an entrancing tale about a beautiful blond amnesiac who proves downright lethal to a hard-edged detective’s heart. Then take a detour to New Mexico for Shotgun Daddy by Harper Allen—the conclusion in the MEN OF THE DOUBLE B RANCH trilogy. In this story a Navajo protector must safeguard the woman from his past who is nurturing a ticking time bomb of a secret.
The momentum keeps building as Sylvie Kurtz launches her brand-new miniseries—THE SEEKERS—about men dedicated to truth, justice…and protecting the women they love. But at what cost? Don’t miss the debut book, Heart of a Hunter, where the search for a killer just might culminate in rekindled love. Passion and peril go hand in hand in Agent Cowboy by Debra Webb, when COLBY AGENCY investigator Trent Tucker races against time to crack a case of triple murder!
Rounding off a month of addictive romantic thrillers, watch for the continuation of two new thematic promotions. A handsome sheriff saves the day in Restless Spirit by Cassie Miles, which is part of COWBOY COPS. Sudden Recall by Jean Barrett is the latest in our DEAD BOLT series about silent memories that unlock simmering passions.
Enjoy all of our great offerings.
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
SHOTGUN DADDY
HARPER ALLEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Harper Allen lives in the country in the middle of a hundred acres of maple trees with her husband, Wayne, six cats, four dogs—and a very nervous cockatiel at the bottom of the food chain. For excitement she and Wayne drive to the nearest village and buy jumbo bags of pet food. She believes in love at first sight because it happened to her.
Books by Harper Allen
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
468—THE MAN THAT GOT AWAY
547—TWICE TEMPTED
599—WOMAN MOST WANTED
628—GUARDING JANE DOE*
632—SULLIVAN’S LAST STAND*
663—THE BRIDE AND THE MERCENARY*
680—THE NIGHT IN QUESTION
695—MCQUEEN’S HEAT
735—COVERT COWBOY
754—LONE RIDER BODYGUARD†
760—DESPERADO LAWMAN†
766—SHOTGUN DADDY†
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Caro Moore—She’s gone from spoiled socialite to desperate single mother on the run. To save her baby from a killer, she needs the protection of the man she turned away….
Gabe Riggs—The Navajo hostage negotiator can’t forget the one night he shared with Caro Moore. Now he’s the only one who can keep her—and the baby he doesn’t know is his—safe.
Del Hawkins—The tough ex-marine runs a boot camp ranch for bad boys—like Gabe once was. But his own past holds a dark secret that could put Gabe, Caro and their child in danger.
Jess Crawford—Once a Double B “bad boy,” the multimillionaire has been kidnapped. Can Gabe find him before it’s too late…?
Steve Dixon—Jess’s friend and business associate. He has reasons to want Caro and her baby out of the picture for good.
Larry Kanin—Caro’s ex-fiancé has a score to settle with Gabe. He doesn’t care whom he destroys in the attempt.
“Leo”—The shadowy lead kidnapper has a very personal motive.
Alice Tahe—The Navajo matriarch knows Gabe’s heritage can give him the strength to save the woman and the baby he loves. But will she convince him of that in time?
To the Simcoe Street Irregulars
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Epilogue
Chapter One
Gabriel Riggs got out of his rented four-wheel drive and stood beside it for a moment, going over his to-do list one final time in his mind. Fly back from Nicaragua. Check. Drive to Aspen. Check. Smash through the gate cordoning off the drive leading up the mountain to Larry Kanin’s ski chalet. Check. There was only one item left on the list.
Find that bastard Larry and make him sorry he was ever—
“Your keys, sir? I’ll park your car with the others.”
Gabe frowned at the muscular young man confronting him. In the light from the Olympic-style torches lining the drive, the security guard’s fresh face contrasted with the commando-like gear he was wearing. The guard’s eyes narrowed.
“Wait a minute. Are you on the guest list?”
“No.”
Gabe headed past him toward the redwood steps ascending to the veranda. Kanin’s man grabbed his arm. “If you’re not on the list, you’re going to have to be escorted off the—”
Get past Security. Check.
Gabe crossed the veranda, not bothering to look back at the sprawled figure in the snow behind him. That was Larry all over, he thought savagely. All style and no substance, even down to the beefcake he had guarding his own property. But hell, when all someone cared about was the bottom line, maybe style was all it took. Recoveries International’s corporate clientele roster grew every time Kanin attended a function flanked by his six-and-a-half-foot blond robots.
Probably even Tech-Oil Consolidated would stay with the firm. After all, the death of one of their employees at the hands of kidnappers had saved them a bundle.
The noise hit him as he entered the chalet—a raucous mix of laughter, too-loud music and brittle voices. He’d heard about the beautiful people, Gabe thought, scanning the room and taking in the cluster of après-skiers by the fireplace, the group near a buffet table. He guessed that was who these people were, but Kanin wasn’t among them. He switched his attention to a redhead who was favoring him with an appraising glance.
“Where’s Larry?”
“Who cares?” Her hair looked as if she’d just gotten out of bed, but maybe it was supposed to look that way. “I love the silver cuff you’re wearing, handsome. It’s Apache, isn’t it?”
At the far side of the room an open set of polished wood stairs swept in a large curve to a second floor. Kanin had to be upstairs.
Gabe shook his head. “Navajo.”
It was an effort to make even that much conversation. He tried
to tell himself that what he was feeling was jet lag, or exhaustion from going the past three days without sleep, but he knew it wasn’t either of those. These people and their world meant nothing to him. He was here only to settle an account.
He put his foot on the bottommost stair. He looked up and saw the woman, and for half a heartbeat all else fell away.
She was like ice and snow and crystals, he thought, his chest feeling suddenly too tight. Her eyes were the color of an alpine lake, her hair a silvery blond pulled back from the creamy oval of her face and coiled at the nape of her neck. She was wearing a white sweater, white slim-fitting ski pants, small white boots with heels. A full-length coat of some kind of white fur hung from her shoulders.
Even as she swept down the staircase toward him, Larry Kanin appeared at the top of the stairs behind her.
Oxygen slammed back into Gabe’s lungs.
“For God’s sake, Caro, you’re overreacting.” Kanin’s well-cut lips tightened. “So Jinx and I were having a little fun. It didn’t mean anything.”
The woman stopped halfway down the stairs. “This is what doesn’t mean anything anymore, Larry.”
Swiftly she removed a blazing diamond from one finger and flung it over the heads of the guests below. The ring sparkled over the buffet table and landed in a bowl of salmon mousse.
But the woman Kanin had called Caro didn’t wait to see it fall. Gabe just had time to step aside before she moved by him, her head held high and those starry eyes not registering his existence. The fur of her coat brushed coldly against his arm, the faint scent that enveloped her—it smelled like small white flowers, he thought disjointedly—touched him briefly, and then she was past. He heard the front door open and close.
Kanin had followed Caro part of the way down the stairs, and for a moment Gabe thought he meant to go after her. Then Larry shrugged, the anger in his eyes quickly concealed.
“I promised entertainment, didn’t I?” he drawled to his assembled guests. “Whichever one of you ladies finds that ring first gets to keep it.”
There was a chorus of surprised laughter from the females in his party and a general rumble of amusement from the men. The buffet table was instantly surrounded.
“Hi, Larry.”
Kanin had been watching the stampede that his announcement had started. At Gabe’s greeting, his gaze swung away from his guests.
“God—Riggs! What the hell are you doing here?”
“The same thing your woman just did.” Gabe mounted the steps that divided them. “I’m breaking up with you, Larry.”
Kanin frowned. “This isn’t the time or the place, Riggs. We’ll talk at the office on—”
“They weren’t asking much in the first place. When I reported in by phone I told you I was pretty sure we’d be able to get it down to a quarter-mill, tops.” Gabe looked over at the buffet table. “I don’t get it. You just turned close to that amount into a party favor.”
“For Christ—” Kanin’s jaw tightened. “I recommended Tech-Oil draw a line in the sand, all right? They do a lot of business in volatile regions, and if they got the reputation of being patsies for every guerrilla leader looking to fund his war chest, they’d be out of business in a month.”
“So instead of advising Tech-Oil to increase security for its people, you told them to stall on delivering the good-faith payment to the kidnappers.” Gabe nodded. “I just needed to hear you confirm it. Like I said, we’re through. And since I don’t have a diamond to throw over this banister—”
The buffet table broke Kanin’s fall before tipping completely over, and the last sight Gabe had of him was of a chafing dish of tiny meatballs upending itself over Kanin as he lay among the debris.
Outside, the baby Nazi he’d decked was nowhere to be seen. He opened the door of his rental vehicle and smelled small white flowers.
“I need a ride into Aspen.” She was sitting in the passenger seat, her hands clasped tightly in her lap and her gaze fixed straight ahead. “I want to leave now.”
The baby Nazi might be out of the picture, Gabe thought, but any minute now, reinforcements would arrive. He didn’t have time to argue with her. He slid into the driver’s seat.
“No problem, lady,” he said tersely. “I don’t want to hang around here any longer, either.”
The spell he’d fallen under when he’d first laid eyes on her had been broken, he noted in relief. She was still beautiful, still a snow princess, and he didn’t mind helping her out by giving her a ride. But breaking off her engagement to Larry couldn’t change the fact that she belonged in his world of wealth and arrogance. The coolness behind her demand just now was proof of that.
Being able to breathe around her made things easier, he told himself as he negotiated the litter of broken wood that had once been the gate at the bottom of the slope. He turned to her when he was safely past it.
“I’ve got to turn on the heat. You might want to take off that fur.”
All he could see of her was the back of her head as she stared out of the side window at the gathering darkness. “I’m not cold.”
“I am.” He reached forward and switched on the heater, jacking the fan to full speed. “I haven’t acclimatized yet.”
She turned to frown at him before opening the coat and slipping her arms from its sleeves. “When I saw your vehicle parked and running in the drive, I assumed one of Larry’s guests was leaving early—but you weren’t at the party, were you.”
Her question sounded faintly accusatory. He kept his face expressionless.
“The name’s Gabriel Riggs. You’re right, I wasn’t invited, but I showed up anyway. You walked past me after you tossed your engagement ring into the salmon mousse. Larry landed in the same general vicinity a couple of minutes later.”
The four-wheel drive corrected itself on a curve. Gabe exchanged the high-beams for the regular headlights to cut down on the hypnotizing dazzle of the now-swirling snow.
“You threw him off the stairs? Why?”
“Because of a man named Leo Roswell. Your ex-lover let him get his throat cut, honey.” He glanced at her. “It was a Recoveries International situation that went real bad, real fast, but I was the negotiator on the spot. I should have guessed Larry might think it was a good idea to pull the plug.”
“A man got his throat—” She didn’t finish the sentence. He heard her indrawn breath. “That’s horrible.”
Gabe didn’t know why he’d put it so bluntly. He didn’t even know why he was talking to her about it. “Yeah, it was horrible. So did you walk in on Larry with Jink, or whatever her name was?”
“Jinx. I don’t want to discuss it.” The frosty tone was back in full force. Gabe took the hint, and for the better part of the next hour there was nothing but silence between them—a silence that was finally broken by Caro herself when his arm accidentally brushed against hers as he reached for the stick shift. She stiffened. “How long before we get to Aspen?”
The lady might as well have posted No Trespassing signs, Gabe thought. It was obvious not only that she wasn’t interested in having a conversation, but that she was having second thoughts about being in his company at all. To be fair, he couldn’t really blame her for her show of nerves just now. He had a pretty good idea of what she saw when she looked at him—a big man with straight black hair that should have been cut two weeks ago and an outdoor-worker’s tan deepening his natural copper, wearing faded jeans and a thin cotton shirt. Not at all what she’d been expecting when she’d made the snap decision to hop into his waiting vehicle outside the chalet.
And if she wasn’t enthralled with having him as a travelling companion, he thought wryly, she was going to be real thrilled about bunking in with him tonight.
“Change of plans,” he said, narrowing his gaze against the heavy snow and wondering if he’d already passed the place he was looking for. “We’re not making Aspen—not till morning, at least. This blizzard’s getting worse. We’re going to have to find somewhere to hol
e up for the night.”
Her gaze was arctic. “Stay the night with a man I met an hour ago? If that’s supposed to be a joke, I don’t see the humor—and if it isn’t, you’ve made a big mistake, Mr. Riggs. The driving can’t be that bad. We’ll keep going.”
Ignoring her peremptory order, Gabe saw the lane-way he’d noticed earlier in the day when he’d been heading the other way. He eased his foot onto the brake, thought for a tense moment that the vehicle was going to lose it on the patch of glare ice that appeared suddenly in his headlights, and then made the turn. Gravel crunched under the tires as they took a slight incline to the darkened building ahead.
“A weekend lodge like this, they’ve probably got an alarm system.” He brought the four-wheel drive to a stop, looked at her stiff figure and took the keys from the ignition. “Trust me, we wouldn’t have made it, and if it’s your reputation you’re worrying about, don’t. I’m going to disable the security, so even if the cops could get here in these conditions, they won’t have a need to.”
Her eyes lasered through him. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to spend the night with you. My father’s William Moore, and if that name doesn’t mean anything to you, it should. Turn this car around right now.”
It had been a long day—hell, a long week, Gabe reflected tightly. Even when he’d been busy throwing Larry over the banister he hadn’t allowed himself to lose the numbness that had surrounded him since he’d seen Leo Roswell’s dead body. He’d known that a single spark of emotion would be enough to blaze down the flimsy barriers holding back his emotions.
Caro Moore had just lit that spark. He tried to count to ten, gave up at seven, and got out of the car. He went around to her door and opened it.
“Drop the lady-of-the-manor act, honey, and pronto. I’m not your chauffeur. I’m getting real tired of you treating me like one. Get out of the car.”