Montana Heat: Escape to You

by Jennifer Ryan

  “With this ring, I promise to be the leading man who makes you happy for the rest of our love story.” He gave her back the promise she’d made to him. “I will love you wholly and unconditionally, now and forever.”

  She took his hand again and squeezed it. “We will be the stars of us.”

  And so they were from that day forward, living their lives the way they wanted, out of the spotlight in Montana, only venturing into the limelight when Ashley had a new blockbuster movie come out or received yet another award for her outstanding work. Otherwise, they were happy to live in peace, surrounded by the love they shared with Adam, their daughter, Juliette, who arrived just over nine months after their wedding when Ashley was up for yet another Oscar for the movie she did with Danny Radford, and their son Tucker, who arrived two years after his sister.

  Together, they lived and loved on the ranch where he and Ashley made a home for themselves and their children and the life they both wanted, filled with laughter and more love than either of them ever thought possible.

  An Excerpt from Montana Heat: True to You

  Continue reading for a sneak peek at Jennifer Ryan’s next Montana Heat novel

  MONTANA HEAT:

  TRUE TO YOU

  On sale February 27, 2018!

  Prologue

  15 months ago . . .

  Two men faced off in the middle of the warehouse. Rivals with a deep hatred that boiled over from time to time and ended in bloodshed between the opposing drug cartels. Guzman’s man held his ground. Iceman, by far the deadliest lieutenant in Guzman’s crew, didn’t know how to do anything else. Cool, calm, unfeeling, the perfect embodiment of his nickname.

  Which is why Guzman sent his number one enforcer to meet Manuel “Manny” Castillo to broker a truce between the two outfits. The last time things got this hot between the two rivals, twenty-three men lost their lives in five days. Judging by the hostility filling the massive room today, they wouldn’t settle anything any time soon.

  “You crossed the line, Castillo. I’m surprised a cowardly piece of shit like you showed.”

  DEA Special Agent Dawson King—just King to everyone who knew him—held both men in the crosshairs of his sniper rifle scope. He’d been lying in wait for more than ten hours. He’d watched both cartels’ men come in and search the building—missing King, thanks to his stealth—and give the all-clear to their respective leaders. Neither side trusted the other.

  Iceman had a man covering his back two rows over on the east side of the building. Manny had a man on the west. None of the men in the building knew King hid in the shadows, perfectly still, concealed, and ready to strike when he gave the order for the raid.

  Meetings like this were usually held out in the open in some remote place, making an ambush impossible. Why take the risk of meeting in an enclosed warehouse? He tried to stay focused on them and not their stupidity.

  Castillo’s smile didn’t inspire one to believe he wanted peace. His words backed that up. “You come after me and mine, you can bet your ass I’ll go after the one and only person you love.”

  King had no idea what the two evil bastards were bitching about, especially since neither had a conscience or a soul. Not when they both went after what they wanted and didn’t care who they took out or hurt in the process.

  King wondered if Iceman knew Castillo was packing. Iceman’s guy patted Castillo down, but King would bet his left nut Castillo had a small gun tucked in his heavy jacket that the guy missed in his cursory search. King couldn’t believe Iceman let his guy get away with such an inept job. Why hadn’t Iceman ordered Castillo to discard his jacket at the door like Iceman had done, showing good faith that he’d come to this meeting unarmed?

  It didn’t add up. King didn’t like it when things didn’t make sense. It sent an icy chill up his spine.

  “Ready, one?” Special Agent Griffin’s voice filled his ear through his com. He’d requested King for this op when his team intercepted a coded message. He wanted the best sniper the DEA had in Montana. Since his counterpart, Trigger, was out of commission after taking out Guzman’s cousin Marco and getting shot in the process, that put King in his perch and these men in his sight.

  He and Trigger had a friendly rivalry on the shooting range. Trigger bested him most of the time, but he made King work that much harder to kick Trigger’s ass.

  King listened as the three teams checked in, everyone ready to end this on King’s call.

  Any time now.

  He tensed his thighs and calves, trying to get his blood flowing after lying in one position so long. He kept his aim and his eye on the two men facing off, talking about some personal beef instead of the business they were here to work out to stop the bloodshed between the two groups.

  Neither thing mattered because they weren’t going back to deliver the terms of the ceasefire to their bosses. They were headed straight to jail on a list of charges that would keep them behind bars the rest of their lives.

  “You won’t have time to regret what you did,” Iceman warned. “Payback is a bitch.”

  An egomaniac like Manny overreacted to taunts like that. King didn’t know why Iceman, a guy as cold and calculating as his name implied, goaded the other man rather than sticking to business. He had to know Manny would push back.

  And in a split second, he did, pulling the small pistol from his jacket.

  Iceman stood with his back to King. He couldn’t see Iceman’s face, but the man went stock still and spread his hands wide and held them out at his sides.

  “I’ll fucking kill you right here, right now, asshole.” Manny practically spit out the words, pointing the gun right in Iceman’s face.

  “Go,” King ordered into his mic. They needed to use this distraction to their advantage and get these two in cuffs before Manny killed Iceman and the DEA lost its chance to get the goods on Guzman’s crew.

  “No, you won’t.” Iceman’s words boasted confidence. Too much.

  A chill danced up King’s spine.

  Manny’s eyes narrowed.

  King knew exactly what was coming and made the split-second choice. He fired to Iceman’s right, hitting the cement floor, kicking up chunks, and predictably making Iceman step to his left. Manny froze, surprised by the shot. King pinned Manny in his sight and fired, killing the man before Manny shot Iceman.

  Iceman spun around. Even though he couldn’t possibly see King, he smiled and gave King a two-finger salute.

  DEA agents poured into the building on both sides.

  Manny’s man started firing, drawing agents in his direction. It gave Iceman’s man the few seconds he needed to toss out two smoke bombs.

  Visibility obscured, King didn’t have a shot at Iceman. He couldn’t take out the unarmed man anyway.

  He swore, shifted focus, and took out Manny’s man as he fired at and held back the other agents.

  What should have been an easy takedown turned into a fucking mess.

  And Iceman got away.

  King swore when he spotted the open window that had originally been blocked by a heavily laden rack of boxes. A window King didn’t see behind the obstacle that he now realized was on wheels and shoved aside to provide the perfect escape. King hoped one of the agents left to cover the building outside intercepted Iceman, but the sound of two motorcycles indicated the men had found an easy escape. Too easy.

  The DEA had been played.

  The intercepted message nothing but a ruse to get the DEA here.

  On a much more disturbing note, Iceman set King up to make the kill. He’d wanted Manny dead and used King to do it for him, knowing Manny would come armed. That inept search by his man had been on purpose. Iceman had led Manny to believe he had the advantage, all the while Iceman coldly planned and executed his death without firing a shot himself.

  Iceman set King and the DEA up as the scapegoat so the Castillo family didn’t go after Guzman for Manny’s death.

  King let loose a string of curses, laid down his rifle a
nd his forehead on his hands and vowed he’d get that bastard if it was the last thing he ever did.

  Chapter One

  15 months later . . .

  King limped down the path, chain-link fence topped with razor wire on both sides of him and an armed guard at his back. He wanted to run from this place and never look back. He’d hated every second he’d spent behind bars. Although he hadn’t broken the law to get here, a part of him believed he deserved the last one hundred and fifty-three days in jail for what happened to Erin long before he ended up locked in a cell.

  He shook off those dark thoughts, buried his guilt once again, and concentrated on the man standing outside the gate ahead. He stopped in front of it and gave his DEA counterpart, Trigger, an irreverent grin.

  “You have no idea how much I want to tell them to keep your ass locked up.” Trigger stood with his arms folded over his chest.

  “How will you win back the title if you don’t let me out of here?” A mocking smile tugged at King’s lips. He’d won the last shooting contest, stealing the title of best shot from Trigger. His last many months undercover in the state prison had him out of practice. He’d be no match for Trigger right now.

  Trigger signaled for the officer at King’s side to go ahead and let him out. Before he stepped past, the officer held out his hand. King took it and held firm while the guy found the words so obvious in his gratitude-filled gaze.

  “Thank you for saving my life, Flash.”

  His cellmate Scott gave him the nickname because of the lightning bolt scar on his arm. He’d used it instead of the fake name he’d been booked under—Chris Hickman. As far as the guards and everyone but Scott in the prison knew, he was Chris, aka Flash. No one, not even the warden or the guard shaking his hand, knew he was undercover DEA.

  King nodded to the guard, not saying anything. He’d done what he had to do during the fight that broke out in the prison yard three days ago. It became the perfect excuse to get King out of there on good behavior without serving the rest of his six-month sentence for drug possession with intent to sell. He’d gotten in good with Scott Lewis’s crew and put himself in a direct line to Iceman, though he planned to take an indirect route to Iceman’s demise.

  The officer released his hand and waved him out the gate. Guards in the tower watched King leave and gave him a salute. He’d saved several people’s lives in addition to the guard who locked the gate behind him. If he hadn’t stopped that fight, it might have turned into an all-out riot.

  He appreciated their gratitude, but he didn’t want to see them or the inside of this place ever again.

  The clink of the gate behind him echoed through his ears. He raised his head and looked up at the dark sky and stars and breathed in his first real taste of freedom.

  “You okay?” Trigger asked, concerned by King’s unnatural quiet. Normally he’d be the guy cracking jokes and flirting with the gorgeous woman leaning against the Camaro behind Trigger. He didn’t have it in him at the moment. Not because it was just after three in the morning and he hadn’t slept. Hell, he’d barely slept at all in the noisy jail. But as the days went by and he’d put his life on the line more than once in that hostile environment, he’d started to wonder if it was worth it. Was what he was doing going to make a difference? Would it lead to Iceman spending the rest of his life behind bars where a man like him belonged?

  King wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Worn down and out, he wanted to step back and take a breath. Not going to happen. The next step in his assignment started now.

  “King, if you’re not ready . . .”

  “I’m ready,” he lied, though not convincingly if Trigger’s narrowed gaze was any indication. “What do you have for me?”

  Trigger motioned him to walk over to the car.

  King stepped up to the woman who walked toward him with her arms out. She embraced him in a hug that he returned with a soft squeeze because damn it felt good to feel a beautiful woman pressed up against him again, even if she did belong to another man. She smelled like flowers. He inhaled, hoping to erase the acrid stench of too many men crammed together in a tight space mixed with the awful food they served and inmates who liked to throw their urine and feces at the guards to fuck with them.

  Ashley Swan, movie star and Trigger’s fiancée, pulled back and looked up at him. “You don’t look so hot.”

  “You’re gorgeous as ever. Ditch the dirtbag and run away with me. I haven’t had sex in months. The first time will be fast, you probably won’t even notice, but after that, I swear I’ll treat you right.” Flash found his smile when Ashley giggled.

  “With your tiny pecker, no woman would notice, no matter how long it took you to get your rocks off. Now unhand her or I’ll shoot you.” Trigger might be joking about his “tiny pecker,” but not about shooting him if he didn’t hand his fiancée back. After all they’d been through together after Ashley escaped her year-long captivity from a psycho serial killer, King understood Trigger’s protective streak. Trigger had almost lost Ashley when Guzman struck a deal with that psycho to not only kill Trigger, but sell Ashley back to him for the price of the drugs Trigger cost Guzman during another raid.

  Now Trigger and Ashley were happily living on their ranch with the little boy they saved from the same man who tried to kill Ashley. A boy who was actually King’s ex-cellmate’s son, and King’s way in with Iceman’s crew.

  Trigger gave up the undercover work, but was here to give him any new intel on Iceman and his crew who had taken up where Guzman left off after Trigger killed him.

  Ashley ignored Trigger and held King at arm’s length. “How bad are you hurt?”

  “A few nicks and scratches, nothing serious,” he lied again.

  Trigger eyed him, then pointedly dropped his gaze to King’s thigh where he’d been shivved by an inmate hell bent on taking out one of Scott’s crew but only ended up shot dead after he stabbed King. Luckily, King saved that other guard and put his hands up before the crack-shot guard took him out, too.

  Ashley touched the bruise on his jaw where he’d been sucker-punched during the fight. “I probably don’t want to see what the rest of you looks like, right?”

  “You want to see it, honey, I’m happy to show it to you.” King liked to razz Trigger by flirting with his girl. It actually made him feel a bit more like himself to let his guard down and fall back on old habits.

  “Enough.” Trigger pulled a stack of folders out of the car through the open window and set them on the hood. “Here’s what we know about Cara Potter.”

  “I still don’t get why I had to serve time to get close to her.”

  “You’re the one who set up the plan to get in Iceman’s crew,” Trigger pointed out.

  “Yeah, but the second we found out we could use her, why didn’t we go after her?” After months in jail, King could no longer see the reasons for it if they weren’t going directly after Iceman.

  Trigger sighed. “You know why. She takes one look at you, she won’t believe a guy like you would want to work in a coffee shop.”

  “What’s wrong with the way I look?”

  “You’re a little banged up now, but you’ve got military stamped all over you with the way you carry yourself. You open your mouth without all the joking and sarcasm and she’ll hear your intelligence. What we don’t want her to guess is that the military led you to law enforcement and straight to her father. She’s got a weakness for ex-cons trying to better themselves. We’re exploiting that to our advantage. What you look like and where you come from won’t matter as much to her as the story you’re building that you’ve hit rock bottom in life and want a fresh start.”

  Trigger laid it out for him without any animosity. Undercover for long periods of time, even Trigger had needed reminding sometimes about why they did what they did and the ultimate objective that sometimes got obscured by all the bullshit along the way.

  Refocused, King hobbled over to the car and stared down at the five-by-seven photo o
f his target. Taken off guard by Cara’s delicate beauty, he stared at her porcelain face, pale blonde hair, and haunting blue eyes. He saw her father’s strong features in the stubborn set of her chin and her direct gaze. Something in her eyes spoke to a hard life that didn’t match her fairy-like features.

  Trigger ran down the info. “We’ve had eyes on her for the better part of a month leading up to sending you in. Iceman dropped in to see her a couple times at the place she runs. It’s outside town at an intersection where gas and food are the last place to get them for about fifty miles outside heading back into town. Locals love her place. Long haulers are regulars. According to our guys, the homemade doughnuts and fresh-brewed coffee are worth the drive. Every man that goes into that place is in love with her.”

  “Living with her will be a hell of a lot easier on the eyes than living with Scott, that’s for damn sure.”

  Trigger gave him a look that said, Hands off.

  King got it. She was a job. Nothing more. But give a guy a break. He’d been locked up in a sausage factory for one hundred and fifty-three days. Too long for a man who liked companionship with the fairer sex, even if it only consisted of sharing a few beers at the bar. Work consumed his life. He didn’t have time—or make the time—for relationships.

  “On the surface, she appears to be a do-gooder. Takes in strays on probation or with a record that keeps them from getting gainful employment, so long as they swear they’ve left that life and want to remain on the straight and narrow. She doesn’t give second chances if they break the law.”

  “She is their second chance,” King guessed. “I’ll bet she’s loyal to them so long as they are to her.”