by Elle Kennedy
When he felt moisture soaking his neck, he realized Chloe was crying. “It’s over, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Neither of them can hurt you ever again.”
She sniffled, then lifted her head and gazed up at him. “Thanks to you.”
A short silence settled between them, during which Derek took a deep breath and collected his composure. “I have to tell you something,” he said roughly.
She nodded, and from the disillusioned expression on her face, he realized she was expecting the worst. Expecting him to tell her he didn’t want to be with her.
Not wanting to put her through even another second of pain and uncertainty, he said, “I love you, Chloe.”
Her jaw fell open. “What?”
“I couldn’t say it before,” he mumbled, wincing in shame. “I was too much of a coward. But I mean it, sweetheart. From the moment you walked into my life, something changed. I was closed off for so long, blaming myself for Tess’s death, but today I realized that it wasn’t entirely my fault.”
She searched his face. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe I did fail Tess, but you know what? She failed me, too. She refused to heal herself, choosing to play the part of the victim rather than try to fix anything. And her death wasn’t my fault. Tess was mentally ill—nothing I could have done would have saved her.” Residual fear trickled through him. “When I saw Bianca pointing that gun at you, I almost died, Chloe. The thought of losing you…”
“You saved my life, Derek.” She looked achingly beautiful and unbelievably timid as she gazed into his eyes. “But I need to know that’s not the only reason you’re saying any of this. I don’t want to be rescued. I just want to be loved.”
As emotion clogged his throat, Derek leaned in and brushed his lips over hers. “Can’t I do both?”
She smiled through her tears. “Yes, I suppose you can.”
* * *
Derek couldn’t keep his hands off Chloe on the drive back to the ranch. He held her hand. Leaned over to stroke her cheek. Sneaked a kiss when they stopped at a stop sign. His heart had damn near stopped when he’d seen Felix Moreno’s crazy mother wielding a gun at Chloe. In that moment, he’d known without a doubt that he didn’t want Chloe to leave. Eden Falls, or him.
Now, with Chloe cuddled up next to him in the passenger seat, Derek had never felt more content.
“I can’t believe both Bianca and Felix are facing jail time,” Chloe murmured.
He squeezed her hand. “Like mother, like son?” he said in a feeble attempt at humor.
But that earned him a genuine laugh. “I guess so. Apparently I married into a crazy family.”
Derek stopped at the entrance of the Double C, then hopped out to open the gate. A second later, he slid back in the car and steered in the direction of his house. Shooting Chloe a sidelong look, he noted the smile curving her lips. “What are you thinking about now?” he teased.
“I was thinking how happy I was to be home.” She sounded slightly awed. “Which made me wonder when I started to consider this ranch home.”
That’s because it is your home, he nearly said, but bit back the words at the last second. They’d yet to discuss where their relationship was heading now, and he didn’t want to pressure her into moving in with him on a permanent basis. As much as he wanted her to.
And it looked like any decisions about their future would have to wait. Derek suppressed a groan as he spotted Emma, Sawyer and Piper waiting on his porch, but when he registered the genuine worry creasing their faces, he realized he’d neglected to call Emma and tell her what happened at the waterfall.
No wonder his siblings looked ready to kill him when he and Chloe stepped out of the car.
“What happened?” Emma demanded, bounding toward them with Sawyer and Piper on her heels. She turned to Chloe with a look of concern. “Chloe, are you okay?”
“Chloe?” Piper wrinkled her brow. “Who’s Chloe? I thought Amelia was missing.”
Clutching Chloe’s hand, Derek shot his younger sister a rueful smile. “I think we’ve got some explaining to do.” He turned to Emma. “Moreno’s mother was the one sending Chloe all those presents.” His throat went tight. “She tried to kill her.”
“But Derek got there just in time,” Chloe said softly.
Sawyer glanced from one to the other. “I am seriously confused,” the boy announced.
Sighing, Chloe approached Sawyer. “I’ve been lying to you, Squirt. To everyone, in fact.”
He frowned. “Go on…”
Derek hid a smile.
“My name isn’t Amelia. It’s Chloe.” She hastily gave him the short version of the story, omitting the more personal details involving the abuse and miscarriages.
When she finished, both Sawyer and Piper gaped at her. “You’re married?” Piper gasped.
“You crashed a plane into the ocean?” Sawyer breathed.
The contrasting tidbits each kid had taken from the story made Derek laugh.
“Soon to be divorced,” Chloe told Piper in a firm voice. “And yes,” she said to Sawyer.
This time, Sawyer seemed more intrigued by her first comment. “Wait—if you’re getting divorced, does that mean you’re going to marry Derek?”
She faltered. “Um…”
Sawyer frowned again, then turned to his brother. “Dude. You didn’t ask her?”
Derek grinned. “I was too busy saving her life, Squirt. Cut me some slack.”
Sawyer raised his eyebrows. “Well, you don’t look busy now.”
Derek glanced at Chloe, who didn’t look the least bit put off by where this discussion had gone. In fact, she just grinned and said, “He’s got a point, Doc.”
His lips twitched. “Well, I guess you’ve twisted my arm.”
Her eyes widened as he sank to his knees in front of her. “Derek! I was kidding! You don’t have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything,” he agreed, reaching for both her hands.
His three siblings gawked at him as if he’d sprouted horns and a tail. Of course they’d be surprised, he realized. He was Derek Colton, after all, the least spontaneous man on the planet.
But Chloe had brought out a side he never knew he had. Making love to her in front of a waterfall in the dead of winter. Having sex in his office. Going caveman on her and carting her off to his bedroom. She brought out his playful side, and not only that, she made him happier than he’d felt in years.
“I love you,” he said huskily, tilting his head to meet her beautiful hazel eyes. “I love your big heart. I love your strength. I love your intelligence. I love every last thing about you. And I will never hurt you, Chloe. I promise you that.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“What I will do is love and honor you,” he said through the lump in his throat. “And I’ll save you whenever you need saving, sweetheart. Not because I’m a natural-born protector, but because I owe you.”
She shot him a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”
“You saved me,” he said simply. “You brought me back to life, Chloe. I raised a shield around my heart, and you knocked it right down. You showed me that it is possible to love again.” He stroked the centers of her palms. “Let’s start fresh together, sweetheart. Marry me.”
“Yes.”
There was no delay on her part. In fact, she spoke so fast he felt inclined to search her face. “Are you sure?”
Smiling, she slid down to her own knees and cupped his jaw in her hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I love you, Derek, and I want nothing more than to be your wife.”
Joy soared through him, spurring him to yank her into his arms and kiss her. So long and deep that he totally forgot they had an audience until he heard Emma clearing her throat.
He and Chloe pulled back sheepishly to find his siblings watching them. Piper in wonder. Emma with approval. And Sawyer in total disgust.
“Dude,” his little brother grumbled, “that was embarrassing. The lovey-dovey speech and the smooching? Ugh. I’m never gonna get all moony over a girl.” He glanced at Chloe, then his sisters. “No offense.”
“None taken,” they said in unison.
Derek helped Chloe to her feet and wrapped an arm around her, then glanced at Sawyer with knowing eyes. “Talk to me in a few years,” he said wisely. “When it comes to girls, I bet you’ll be the biggest sucker of us all.”
“Never!”
Rolling her eyes, Emma clapped a hand over Sawyer’s shoulder. “Come on, guys, let’s go back to the main house. The lovebirds need some alone time.” A smile tugged on her lips. “Congrats, Doc. I knew you were smarter than you look.”
As the three Coltons drifted off, Derek turned to Chloe. “You sure you want to marry into this family?” he teased.
“Positive,” she said. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him again. “In fact, when it comes to you, Derek Colton, I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”
EPILOGUE
The motel was located on the outskirts of the city, an L-shaped building with a ramshackle exterior. Tate parked the Escalade on the gravel space in front of room eight. The top-of-the-line SUV was just one of the many toys at Ted Conrad’s disposal—Tate’s new persona definitely had some perks, though he did feel completely out of sorts in the tailored Armani suit, Gucci loafers and Hermes tie he was wearing. Definitely designer overload, but he was supposed to be a wealthy businessman, so he had to dress the part.
He also felt unbelievably naked without his gun. Walking into this op without a weapon made him uneasy, but again, he had a part to play. These people were doing Ted Conrad a favor, allowing him to inspect the wares before he committed to a purchase. He doubted they’d appreciate their customer showing up armed and potentially killing them.
Taking a breath, Tate got out of the car and approached the motel room door. It was bloodred, the paint chipped and the wood splintered.
The door swung open before he could knock. Tate found himself staring into the hard, suspicious eyes of a tall African-American man with a shaved head.
“Conrad?” the man barked.
Tate nodded.
“Got ID?”
With another nod Tate reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and removed an expensive leather wallet. He extracted his brand-new driver’s license and handed it over.
The bulky man studied the license for several long minutes before handing it back. He opened the door an inch wider, then peered beyond Tate’s shoulders and studied the parking lot. “You alone?”
“Yes, just like you ordered.”
The door opened another inch. “Come in.”
Tate was surprised by how easy that was, but he suspected the players in the ring had already vetted the hell out of his recently acquired identity. Besides, the entire time he’d stood on that stoop, he’d felt eyes burning into his back, which told him the entire motel was being watched and every arrival was being observed.
As he followed the beefy man into the room, the scent of mildew, pine cleaner and urine filled his nostrils. Tate wrinkled his nose, about to make some haughty, rich-person complaint, when his gaze landed on the bed.
And his breath caught in his lungs.
It took every iota of willpower not to react to the sight before him.
Three young women were huddled on the bed, donning blank, glassy expressions that hinted of the drugs coursing through their systems. All three wore slinky white nightgowns, the kind you saw in those tawdry boudoir portraits or really cheesy pornos. Two of the girls had dark hair and brown eyes.
The third was a redhead.
Agony burned a path up Tate’s spine.
He tried not to show too much interest in any one girl, but his gaze kept returning to the redhead. Focusing on those big, blue-gray eyes. The angelic features. The perfect alabaster skin.
Hannah Troyer.
God, she was here. She was alive.
“You can touch if you’d like.”
Tate swiveled his head in time to see a second man step out of the bathroom to the right. Also boasting a shaved head, this man had olive-toned skin, a bushy goatee and a leer on his face.
“Give those asses a squeeze,” Goatee Man offered, wiggling his eyebrows. “Fondle a breast or two.”
Tate almost gagged. Choking down his revulsion, he pasted on a cool, indifferent look. “I’ve seen all I need to see.”
Tearing his gaze off the woman who’d been haunting his dreams for weeks now, he moved back toward the door. “Tell your employer I’ll be in touch,” he said brusquely.
Without a backward glance, he left the motel room and got back into the Escalade. His hands were steady as he drove out of the lot, his breathing regular as he made his way down the dark one-lane road, his heartbeat steady as he put distance between himself and the motel.
It wasn’t until he reached a stop sign that he unraveled like an old sweater. Hands shaking, breaths ragged, pulse off-kilter.
Gasping for breath, Tate rested his head on the steering wheel, resisting the urge to turn around, drive back to that room, carry those sweet, victimized girls away and then return to murder the bastards who’d dared to touch them.
Not yet.
He let out a shaky breath. Right, not yet. If he tipped his hand now, he’d wouldn’t be able to touch the ringleader. He’d save three innocent girls. Three. Leaving the bastard at the head of this sex ring to hurt dozens of innocent girls.
I’m sorry, Hannah.
Choking down the acid coating his throat, he kept driving, trying to erase the image of Hannah’s big, empty eyes from his head.
But he couldn’t erase the rage burning a hole in his gut.
Or the all-consuming need to bring down every last bastard who’d dared to hurt Hannah Troyer and all the others like her.
* * * * *
When Emilia Ecklund thinks she’s being threatened, she gets Dane Sutton—who works at the Payne Protection Agency—to pretend to be her boyfriend in order to avoid attention being drawn to the stalker.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at
SINGLE MOM’S BODYGUARD,
Lisa Child’s newest BACHELOR BODYGUARD story,
available September 2017
from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!
CHAPTER 1
The crying awoke Emilia—as it always did. But it sounded as if it were coming from a great distance instead of just down the hall. Why did it seem so muffled?
She knew better than to put anything in the crib with the infant. She wouldn’t take any risk with him ever again. “Blue…” she murmured as she jerked fully awake.
Throwing back the blankets, she jumped from the bed and ran from her room, hitting her shoulder against the jamb as she exited. Pain radiated down her arm.
This was real. This wasn’t a dream like all the times before she’d heard that faint cry, when she had reached for her stomach, for her child—only to find her womb empty, her baby gone….
Except that hadn’t been a dream, either. That had been the horror she’d lived for weeks until she and her son had been rescued.
Her feet slipped on the hardwood floor as she hurried down the hall toward the bedroom on the other side of the bath. She banged into that jamb, too, while rushing into the nursery. A breeze rustled the wispy blue-and-white striped curtains and rattled the blind pulled over the window.
The open window.
She hadn’t left that window open. She was always so careful to make sure that it was shut and locked. She wouldn’t have…
She could barely hear the crying now. It was far in the distance. “Blue
…”
Was he gone, too?
Her legs trembled, nearly folding beneath her, as she walked toward the crib. Dread gripped her. She was afraid to look, afraid that it was happening all over again.
She had lost her little boy once. She couldn’t lose him again. Her hands shook and she wrapped her fingers around the top rail of the white-painted crib. And finally, she forced herself to look.
Her heart lurched, swelling with love, as it did every time she gazed upon her child. He lay on his side, his eyes closed, his little fist clenched as if he was ready to start fighting bad guys—just like his uncle.
Relief slipped from her lips in a long, shuddery breath. He was fine. Blue was fine, sleeping peacefully. There were no tears on his cheeks, which had finally begun to fill out. He looked happy and healthy.
And she’d thought she was, too, now that she had him back. But she could still hear the crying. Maybe it was coming from another house. But it hadn’t sounded that way when she’d first heard it. It had seemed to come from down the hall.
And it sounded that way again but now the direction had changed, as if it were coming from her room. She had cried herself to sleep a few nights, thinking of the mistakes she’d made, the mistakes that had nearly cost her Blue and her brother and the woman he loved and Emilia’s own life as well.
She had almost lost everything. But thanks to her brother Lars and Nikki Payne and Lars’s friends, Blue was safe. Emilia was safe. She had lost nothing.
The sound of crying persisted. It sounded like Blue’s cry. But he was still asleep. She reached down for him, tempted to hold him and assure herself he was all right. As her fingers brushed across his back, he murmured and a soft sigh slipped through his rosebud-shaped lips.
He was too peaceful. Disturbing him would be selfish. She had promised herself she wouldn’t be that kind of parent, the one her father had been when he’d deserted his sick wife and kids.
No. She had to leave him alone, had to let him sleep. Most new parents would have been envious of how much her son slept. But she knew he did that because he hadn’t had anyone there for him those first few weeks of his life. He hadn’t had anyone that cared enough to come when he’d cried. And her heart broke over that, over knowing that she had already let down her son. She wouldn’t do it again.
