She’s his only chance at redemption...
And he’s her only chance at survival!
After her sister’s murder, Lilly Shaw has stopped giving anyone—including Helen’s ex-boyfriend, Dave Giblan—second chances. But she and Dave are suddenly shoved together when a deadly criminal takes them both hostage at gunpoint. As they race against the clock to outwit their enemy, Lilly and Dave must put aside their differences and save one another once and for all.
“Are you okay?”
“The change in position made my head throb and the room spin, but I’ll live.”
As he positioned himself, Dave’s body heat and his soap and leather scent enveloped her, and the occasional brush of his thigh against hers or his chest at her back sent a tingling sensation to her belly. With her wrists taped together, her range of motion was seriously restricted as she felt blindly for his pocket. Her fingers found the soft cotton of his T-shirt over the taut plain of his belly, and he hissed.
Lilly jerked her hand back. “What? Did I hurt you?”
“No. I’m...ticklish.” Was that embarrassment she detected in his tone?
He grunted. “Ignore me. Just...try again. Lower.” His body skimmed along hers as he moved to better align her hands with their target.
An awkward awareness shot through her, along with a ripple of something she refused to call pleasure. She was not, not, not attracted to her late sister’s boyfriend...
* * *
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Dear Reader,
As I write, a book’s characters become very real to me. They are my friends, my family, my children. It’s truly rewarding for me to give my heroes and heroines happily-ever-afters. But my empathy is not only for the main characters. Every now and then, a secondary character will stand out to me, whether because of their bold personality or because they were innocents, left without their own happy ending. The hero of this book, Dave Giblan, was one of those characters. I knew he needed closure, a happy ending...and maybe a bit of redemption along the way.
Who better to match him with than the one person who shared his grief over a certain loved one’s death? I hope you will enjoy Rancher’s Hostage Rescue, and Dave and Lilly’s second chance for a brighter future.
By the way, as in all my books, Rancher’s Hostage Rescue includes a cat. But this is no ordinary cat. I’m pleased to introduce you to Maddie, my grandcat! My son, who grew up surrounded by my felines, learned to love cats and all their eccentricities almost as much as I do. I was thrilled for him when he adopted a skittish long-haired cat during his first year of graduate school. Maddie has overcome her scary pre-adoption beginnings (mostly) and is now an attention-hungry, lovable fluff ball. Thanks, Jeffery, for sharing Maddiecakes for this story! You can find pictures of our family’s cats on my website, bethcornelison.com.
Happy reading,
Beth
Rancher’s Hostage Rescue
Beth Cornelison
Beth Cornelison began working in public relations before pursuing her love of writing romance. She has won numerous honors for her work, including a nomination for the RWA RITA® Award for The Christmas Stranger. She enjoys featuring her cats (or friends’ pets) in her stories and always has another book in the pipeline! She currently lives in Louisiana with her husband, one son and three spoiled cats. Contact her via her website, bethcornelison.com.
Books by Beth Cornelison
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
The McCall Adventure Ranch
Rancher’s Deadly Reunion
Rancher’s High-Stakes Rescue
Rancher’s Covert Christmas
Rancher’s Hostage Rescue
Cowboy Christmas Rescue
“Rescuing the Witness”
Rock-a-Bye Rescue
“Guarding Eve”
The Mansfield Brothers
The Return of Connor Mansfield
Protecting Her Royal Baby
The Mansfield Rescue
Black Ops Rescues
Soldier’s Pregnancy Protocol
The Reunion Mission
Cowboy’s Texas Rescue
Visit the Author Profile page at
Harlequin.com for more titles.
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To Paul and Jeffery—all my love
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Excerpt from Colton’s Mistaken Identity by Geri Krotow
Prologue
The plan was ready. His weapon cleaned, primed, loaded. His target identified and surveilled. His escape mapped out. Contingencies decided. The time had come.
He stashed his gun in an accessible place on his person, then covered it with his long shirt, his jacket. By this time tomorrow, he’d be out of state, on his way to his next small-town target as he made his way to the Mexican border. To freedom.
Wayne Moore strapped on his grandfather’s watch, the only thing he had left of his grampa’s. His father had given it to him just days before he’d died. Wayne acknowledged the familiar tangle of regret, longing and disgust he experienced when remembering his father. A complicated legacy. A love-hate relationship. Jacob Moore had taught him well. Some lessons were learned on their homemade backyard shooting range and some at his father’s side as they held up gas stations, diners and liquor stores. Others were taught with fists and belts. His dad’s last lesson had been taught through his failure.
Wayne shook his head, remembering. His father had gotten careless, cocky. Had taken on a large city bank without adequate backup, without considering all the ramifications and obstacles. Had seen only his past successes and the promise of a bigger payday. He’d paid for his hubris with his life, shot by the security officer as soon as he fired his own weapon.
Lesson learned. Stick to small jobs. Keep it simple.
Small-town banks had smaller payouts, but also a smaller risk of capture. And the number-one goal, above the take, was not to be captured. Stay out of jail and be free to do another job on another day. Wayne wasn’t sure how many days he had left, but if he didn’t get some money for all his medical bills, they were sure to end sooner rather than later.
After a last check of his supplies, his weapons, his escape plan, Wayne climbed in his old beater sedan and headed for his target.
Chapter 1
Five excruciating months had passed since Helen had been murdered. Five months of grief, loneliness and, most of all, guilt. He hadn’t taken her life, but that didn’t exonerate him from his other wrongs. He’d taken her for granted, not given her what she deserved, acted the fool when he’d had a good woman who loved him.
Dave Giblan sat at Helen’s graveside, his bad leg stretched i
n front of him and the moisture from the latest spring rain soaking through his jeans. He made biweekly visits to her grave, often bringing flowers to brighten the still-raw earth from her burial. Flowers he should have given her more often while she was alive. Instead, he’d laughed at his boss’s advice to show Helen his feelings, his appreciation of her. Now it was too late.
Grunting as he shoved to his feet, he swiped at the damp seat of his jeans and whispered, “Bye, Helen.” Turning, he headed back to his pickup. He still had a slight limp, minor pain and stiffness following the surgery to repair his broken leg last December. The accident, a fall from a ladder, had been so random, so senseless...and just a few days before Helen was murdered. He lost both his girlfriend and his job within days of each other.
The McCalls swore that he’d have a job again when his leg was fully healed, and he could do the work of a ranch hand again. But since making that promise, they’d hired two new hands. Although he’d heard the Double M was climbing out of the financial quicksand it had been sinking in, he was skeptical they had the means to pay a third hand. Especially one who had a limp that may or may not ever go away.
He moved slowly down the grassy cemetery hill, using the cane he’d borrowed from the McCalls for use on uneven terrain. The handcrafted wooden cane with a simple scalloped design near the hand grip had belonged to the late father of the senior McCall, Michael.
Once back to his truck, he checked the list he’d left on the passenger seat. He’d been by the hardware store, taken his rent check to the post office, refilled his prescription for his anticlotting medicine and visited Helen. Only thing left on his list was a stop at the bank to cash his unemployment check.
He drove back into the business district of Boyd Valley, a small town nestled at the intersection of the Rocky Mountains and the plains of eastern Colorado. The country station on his radio played a sad song about loss and regret, and he reached over to turn it off. He didn’t need a song to tell him that story. He lived it.
Five minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of First Bank of Boyd Valley. The lot was largely empty. Only a couple of cars in the customer section. The convenience of online banking was rapidly shrinking the need for brick-and-mortar banks, human tellers, personal service. Just one more way the town, and the sense of community, was shrinking, dying in this age of technology.
Call him old-fashioned, but Dave preferred to do his banking in person, preferred to see the face of the teller who cashed his checks. His mother had been a teller in this very bank when he was growing up, and although she was gone now, buried in the cemetery just a few rows over from Helen, Dave felt her presence in the bank. Rose Charmand was the only teller there who still remembered working with his mother, and she always had a smile for him. Most days she’d also share a story about her memories of him as a kid, afternoons he’d spent behind the counter doing his homework, eating the lollipops that were supposed to be for the customers and waiting for his mother to drive them both home.
Today as he approached the window where Rose worked, her smile flashed brightly, as usual, before an odd shadow crossed her face. When her gaze darted toward the vault, Dave glanced in the same direction, curious what had distracted Rose. A woman with glossy gold hair and a knockout figure stood just inside the vault at the wall of safe-deposit boxes. A sense of déjà vu skittered down Dave’s spine as he watched the woman. Brow furrowed in confusion, he faced Rose.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said with a half grin for the older woman. He slid his check across the counter. “How’s life treating you?”
“As well as a woman my age can expect,” Rose quipped. “The usual? Deposit half, half in cash to you?”
He nodded, then glanced back at the golden-haired woman in the vault. “Who’s that?”
Rose glanced up briefly from counting out bills. “You don’t recognize her?”
“Her back’s to me. Maybe if I saw her face...”
The teller kept shuffling money, her eyes down, as she mumbled, “Honey, that’s Lilly Shaw.”
Even as the name registered, the woman turned. Helen’s sister.
His breath stuck in his throat. Though they didn’t resemble each other in more than hair color, the sight of her brought a flood of memories that drowned him with fresh waves of guilt and grief.
Why was she in town? Why had he picked this moment to deposit his check? He really couldn’t bear a confrontation with Helen’s last living relative. The one person who loved Helen as much as he had. Maybe more so. Lilly hadn’t taken Helen for granted. Hadn’t needed to be badgered for demonstrations of affection. Would never forget an important anniversary. Could never be accused of half-assing their relationship.
His gut rolled. The last time he’d talked to Lilly, at Helen’s twenty-fifth birthday celebration, she’d looked him straight in the eye and called him a first-class jerk. She threatened him with bodily injury if he hurt Helen, a vow he’d laughed off. He’d told Lilly she had nothing to worry about, that the complaints Helen had about him were just her sister blowing off steam. Things between him and Helen were fine.
He knew the instant Lilly spotted him. Her gaze, which had passed casually over him at first, darted back to him in surprise, her steps faltering. The very next second, the soft, feminine curves of her face hardened. Her lips pinched, and flinty disdain filled her eyes.
He’d avoided Lilly at Helen’s funeral. He’d been too swallowed up in his own shock and heartache to face Lilly’s accusations and criticism. But he deserved anything Lilly could dish out. She’d been right about his lackluster attitude toward his relationship with Helen, and now he lived every day with regrets he could never correct.
At the very least, he owed Lilly an apology. Well, he owed Helen an apology, but with Helen gone, Lilly was as close as he’d get to earning forgiveness for his blithe attitude while Helen was alive. He wiped his damp palms on the seat of his jeans and headed toward her. Her brow furrowed, and her gaze dropped briefly to his bad leg as he limped toward her. Had Helen told her about his accident, his surgery, his temporary unemployment?
Lilly’s shoulders squared as he approached. Blinking hard, as if battling back tears, she glanced toward the door and took a few quick steps in that direction.
He blocked her path, wrapping his hand around her arm when she tried to brush past him.
“Lilly, wait. Please.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” Her green eyes glinted at him, and she tugged at her arm. “Let me go.”
“Give me just five minutes. Please.” He heard the rusty sound of his voice and paused to clear it. “I want to apologize.”
His request stilled her attempt to get free. She narrowed a suspicious glare on him. “An apology. For what?”
“For...lots of things. The way things went down between me and Helen.”
She scoffed. “Isn’t Helen the one who deserves that apology?” She tipped her head in mock enlightenment and added, “Oh, wait. She’s dead. It’s too late to apologize for the way you treated her.”
Guilt pooled like acid in his gut. “I know that, but—”
“But nothing, Dave!” she said, her voice rising.
The other customers in the bank glanced their way. The security guard, a retired sheriff’s deputy who’d once busted a sixteen-year-old Dave for trespassing on school grounds after hours, put his hand on his utility belt and strolled over. “Is there a problem here?”
“No, Deputy Hanover,” Dave said, flashing a tight smile. “I just need a moment’s privacy with Ms. Shaw.”
Hanover glanced to Lilly for her response. After a few seconds to consider, she frowned and gave the security officer a nod. Deputy Hanover stepped away, and Dave guided Lilly out of the main lobby toward a corner near the loan offices.
“Look...” he said and sighed. Now that he had her ear, what did he say? He hadn’t prepared anything in the last few w
eeks on the off chance he might run into Lilly. He’d honestly thought he’d never see her again.
“I—I had a ring. Have a ring. An engagement ring,” he began awkwardly.
Clearly his opening caught her off guard. She blinked rapidly and gave her head a small shake. “Excuse me?”
“I was going to give it to her on New Year’s Eve. I had this whole thing planned with dinner and driving out to this lookout spot and—”
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked in a low growl.
“Because... I want you to know I did have feelings for Helen.” He scrubbed a hand on his face, deciding what needed to be said next.
She arched a delicate eyebrow, her expression cool. “You had feelings for her?”
“Yes! I was serious about her, not just playing at a relationship.”
“Evidence would say otherwise.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she held up a hand to cut him off. “You can’t even say you loved her. You have to use phrases like you had feelings for her.” She gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, that’s a sentiment that will make a girl want to marry you. ‘I have feelings for you, Helen. Let’s spend our lives together.’”
He took a deep breath and exhaled. Even as irritation with her sarcasm scraped through him, he reminded himself he’d earned Lilly’s scorn. He flexed and balled his hands at his sides, trying to recalculate. To find the right words. He might not get another chance to set things right with Helen’s only family. Maybe earning her forgiveness shouldn’t matter to him, but...it did.
“I screwed up with her. I know. She was a great, kind, terrific person, and I blew it. Okay? I know that!” He took a cleansing breath, his stomach knotting as he added, “And I did love her. I only... It’s just hard to say the words now because she’s... It makes it harder now that she’s...”
“Dead,” Lilly said, her stare penetrating and unnerving. “My God, you can’t even say that word? Helen is dead. Say it.”
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