by Sylvie Kurtz
“It’s late. Past midnight. Why don’t you come to bed?” Taryn said. Let me take care of you.
Chance didn’t say anything, but kept staring out the window at the river. Red Thunder looked innocent enough tonight. Romantic even, with the moonlight dancing on its surface.
“The river has stolen a lot from you, hasn’t it? Twice now, it’s taken your memory.”
He started to turn from her, but she hung on to him. “I won’t let it take anything more from you.”
Tentatively she pressed a kiss against his neck, felt the answering leap of his pulse against her lips.
Chance growled, “No.” But there was no strength to his denial.
She could reach him on this primal level. She knew she could. “Let me love you, Chance.”
“No,” he said, then leaned forward and kissed her….
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
Harlequin Intrigue has four new stories to blast you out of the winter doldrums. Look what we’ve got heating up for you this month.
Sylvie Kurtz brings you the first in her two-book miniseries FLESH AND BLOOD. Fifteen years ago, a burst of anger by the banks of the raging Red Thunder River changed the lives of two brothers forever. In Remembering Red Thunder, Sheriff Chance Conover struggles to regain the memory of his life, his wife and their unborn baby before a man out for revenge silences him permanently.
You can also look for the second book in the four-book continuity series MORIAH’S LANDING—Howling in the Darkness by B.J. Daniels. Jonah Ries has always sensed something was wrong in Moriah’s Landing, but when he accidentally crashes Kat Ridgemont’s online blind date, he realizes the tough yet fragile beauty has more to fear than even the town’s superstitions.
In Operation: Reunited by Linda O. Johnston, Alexa Kenner is on the verge of marriage when she meets John O’Rourke, a man who eerily resembles her dead lover, Cole Rappaport, who died in a terrible explosion. Could they be one and the same?
And finally this month, one by one government witnesses who put away a mob associate have been killed, with only Tara Ford remaining. U.S. Deputy Marshal Brad Harrison vows to protect Tara by placing her In His Safekeeping—by Shawna Delacorte.
We hope you enjoy these books, and remember to come back next month for more selections from MORIAH’S LANDING and FLESH AND BLOOD!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
REMEMBERING RED THUNDER
SYLVIE KURTZ
For Chuck—For your enduring love
A Special Thanks to:
Sandy Emerson for answering my bail questions.
Jerry Fletcher—Chris’s Class A mechanic dad—
for scenario #2. It fit the bill perfectly!
Any errors in procedure are the author’s.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&M’s for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight itself. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.
Since then, she has traded in her wings for a computer keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense. When not writing, she enjoys the outdoors with her husband and two children, in addition to quilt making, photography and reading whatever catches her interest.
You can write to Sylvie at P.O. Box 702, Milford, NH 03055. And visit her Web site at www.sylviekurtz.com.
Books by Sylvie Kurtz
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
527—ONE TEXAS NIGHT
575—BLACKMAILED BRIDE
600—ALYSSA AGAIN
653—REMEMBERING RED THUNDER*
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Chance Conover—His memory is wiped clean of everything except a nightmare.
Taryn Conover—Her husband is turning into a stranger before her eyes.
Angus Conover—Does Chance’s adoptive father know more than he’s willing to say?
Nola Barnes—Taryn’s grandmother is dead set against her granddaughter chasing after any man, even her husband.
Tad Pruitt—The deputy wants to discover if Chance is fit to serve.
Dr. Benton—Does the staff psychiatrist have reasons of his own to want Chance to stay put?
Carter Paxton—He’s the law in Ashbrook. Revenge has been eating at him for fifteen years.
Ellen Paxton—Is the shell of a woman in the nursing home the girl in Chance’s nightmare?
Garth Ramsey—The boy from the wrong side of the tracks has done well for himself. How far will he go to protect his own interests?
Joely Brahms—The town librarian has answers, but fear keeps her quiet.
Doug Talberg—The retired high school principal would just as soon not remember the past.
TARYN’S BUTTERMILK ANGEL BISCUITS
2 cups unbleached white flour
1 tbsp sugar
1 tbsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ tsp baking soda
¼ cup vegetable shortening
1 package quick-rising yeast
1 ¼ cups 2% buttermilk, warmed melted butter (optional)
In a large bowl sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt and baking soda. Cut in the shortening until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add yeast. Set aside.
Add the warm milk to the dry ingredients and stir with a fork until moistened. The dough will be sticky.
Turn out the dough onto a heavily floured breadboard and knead gently until smooth, about 30 seconds.
Gently roll out the dough to a half-inch thickness. Cut with a floured round or fluted cutter. Arrange the biscuits 2 inches apart on an ungreased baking sheet.
Preheat the oven to 400°F while the biscuits rise on the baking sheet, about 15 minutes. Place the biscuits in the oven and bake for 12-15 minutes. If desired, brush the tops of the hot biscuits with melted butter. Makes 12 biscuits.
Contents
Prologue
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
Chapter Fifteen
Epilogue
Prologue
Ashbrook, Texas. Fifteen years ago.
She was late.
He’d known she’d be too chicken to show. Playing games wasn’t Ellen Paxton’s style. Still, he’d hoped she’d help spice up what was shaping up to be an otherwise dull evening.
Trespassing was the only thing that made this outing any fun. But even that bit of adventure was growing old in the buggy humidity of these backwoods.
All these trees made him claustrophobic. Heat suffused his every pore, glistened his skin with sweat and rendered his mind slug slow. Any second now, all this nature was going to drive him plumb crazy.
What they needed was a bit of excitement. And on this hot and sticky late-May evening, excitement wasn’t likely to find them unless they met it halfway.
Garth Ramsey glanced at his companions. The Makepeace twins looked as contented as dogs who’d found a cool spot under a porch. Kent, he knew, could stay here all night and be happy. Kyle would be easier to prod along.
“Turkey tracks,” Kent said, pointing at the t
hree-fingered prints where the wild birds had followed the sandy riverbank then veered into the brush.
Who cares? Garth thought and swiped Kyle’s Coke from the cardboard tray between them on the ground.
“And here we are nowhere near Thanksgiving,” Kyle mocked.
Kent shot Kyle a narrowed gaze, then turned his attention to his burger. The jitter of his knee said he wanted to add something, but realized it wasn’t wise when Kyle was in one of his moods.
And Kyle was in the mother of all moods. He’d had some burr under his saddle for the past three days. For once he hadn’t bothered Garth with all the details—which only made him more curious and more determined to view the outcome. Too bad Ellen hadn’t shown. Garth slurped the last of the Coke and batted away at the mosquitoes determined to eat him alive.
In a week, high school would be over and reality would kick in, but for now, he, Kent and Kyle were still free. Garth wanted to make the most of his time and not waste a precious evening vegetating along the river.
“I hear there’s goin’ to be a drag race out by the reservoir tonight,” Garth said, feeling out his chances of seeing action any time soon. He hated depending on Kent for transportation.
“Who’s gonna be there?” Kyle asked as he squeezed a second packet of ketchup onto his burger.
“Mac Renfro and his souped up Chevy for one.”
Kyle snorted. With an overhand hook, he tossed the empty ketchup packet toward the fast-food bag and missed. “If he drives that thing like he rides, I’ll put my money on whoever he’s racing.”
Undeterred, Garth tried another tack. “Shannon Blake’s havin’ a party. Her parents are out of town for the weekend and I hear she’s goin’ to have a keg.”
“Yeah?” Kyle flattened the top bun over the other half of his burger. Ketchup oozed out one side and plopped onto the ground. “Might be worth checking out.”
“Sounds like trouble,” Kent said. He tipped his cap to shade his eyes, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned deeper into the oak behind him.
Garth silently groaned. He wanted to cruise around town and find some sort of life. The curse of having two of his four older sisters still living at home was that one of them always had dibs on the family car before he did. Even his mother sided with them. Work came before pleasure. Like slaving at the local supermarket was worth the hassle.
“You don’t have to stay.” Garth poked the straw of his drink through the lid. “You can just drop Kyle and me off. We can get a ride back.”
“Kyle can’t go. He can’t afford another run-in with Sheriff Paxton.”
“I can decide for myself.”
“It’s a party—” Garth started.
“A party that sounds like it’ll get out of hand.”
Garth shrugged. “So we leave when it does.”
“John Henry—”
“Won’t care,” Garth said.
When it came down to the doing, John Henry Makepeace couldn’t always be counted on. Garth figured that was why Kent was such a pain in the butt at times. Someone had to be responsible. Since his grandfather and his brother weren’t, Kent had appointed himself conscience to both.
“He’ll care if he’s called down to the sheriff’s office one more time to explain why he can’t keep Kyle in line,” Kent said.
“And he’ll get over it just as quick.”
Bull’s-eye, Garth thought when Kent’s eyes opened and his glare was cold enough to cool the stuffy air around them.
“We’ll all go, then,” Kent said after a while. “First hint of trouble and we leave.”
Garth and Kyle shared a conspiratorial look over Kent’s head.
“Fine.”
“Sure.” Garth picked up his carton of fries and started munching on them. Promises were made to be revised. He glanced at his watch. Half an hour to kill before he had to prod old Kent along.
The only thing around with any energy was Red Thunder. As its name implied, the river was never quiet. Unlike its meandering sisters, the Neches to the west and the Sabine to the east, Red Thunder ran straight and fast. And today, swollen by a week of rain, it seemed in a mighty hurry. Like him, Garth thought. He was in a hurry to get out of this one-stoplight town.
He had plans, big plans, and he’d set goals to reach them. Like a road on a map, he knew exactly where he was going and couldn’t wait to get started on his trip to the top. And his drive was as powerful as the river’s. Nothing was going to stop him.
Footsteps muffled by the thick padding of leaf litter drew nearer. A branch cracked. A pine bough swished. None of them stirred. The arrival was much too hesitant to belong to the forest ranger assigned to patrol the Woodhaven Preserve.
When the footsteps reached the clearing, Garth smiled. Well, well, look who’s here. He might have drawn a pat hand from a stacked deck after all. He plucked another fry from the carton he was holding and glanced over at Kyle, wondering how his friend would react.
Kyle tossed his burger to one side and shot up, then busied himself with picking up rocks along the riverbank.
Pine bough in hand, Ellen Paxton hesitated before walking into the clearing. Her blond hair hung in a long braid down her back. Garth had told her to let it hang loose. He liked the way the gold glinted in the light, and often fantasized about running his hands through the silken strands.
She hadn’t listened to his other advice, either. Her denim cutoffs were too short and her red T-shirt too tight. Not that the outfit looked bad on her. Watching her move, he was getting hotter by the second. She didn’t have much to fill the top, but those firm, long legs of hers could give any man a hard-on. Thing was that neither the short shorts nor the tight shirt were her nature, and she didn’t look comfortable playing the role of temptress she was striving for. Fresh innocence and loose, gauzy fabrics suited her more. He’d told her so.
Her gaze, with its anxious gray-green eyes, sought out Kyle, then swept quickly away to fixate on Kent. So that’s how she was going to play it. He’d told her to use him to win Kyle over again. She was doing this all wrong.
The empty fry container collapsed in his fist. One day, he’d get to her, if only to prove to himself he could.
She sank next to Kent, swiveled the straw from his drink in her direction and sipped. A kiss of red lipstick branded the white straw. She looked better in pink. He’d told her so.
Kyle’s jaw worked overtime as he pretended not to care.
“I saw your truck by the road and thought I’d stop and say hi.”
Garth smiled and leaned back against the hickory tree. Saw, my foot. He’d called her from the burger joint, and knowing there’d be fireworks, he’d told her their plans. He’d laid out a perfect step-by-step course of action for her. But had she listened? No. She was playing a game she couldn’t handle.
She should have listened to him.
But what the heck, this could still prove more entertaining than an evening drinking beer at Shannon Blake’s party. And he might still get what he wanted in the end.
“So what are y’all’s plans for the summer?” Ellen asked with a brightness that sounded exaggerated and an ease her tight muscles against Kent’s side denied.
Ellen was crazy in love with Kyle. That was plain to see on her face even though she was trying hard to ignore him. Kyle was gaga over Ellen, too, even though he was pretending she was nothing more than a weed at the moment. Garth had had to suffer through enough of Kyle’s fawning to know.
Kent started to get up, but she hung on to his arm. The straitlaced Makepeace didn’t want to let Ellen use him to get to Kyle, but he was also too accommodating to hurt a lady’s feelings, whether she deserved it or not.
“Kent’ll be a gatekeeper at the state park,” Kyle sneered. He hurled a pebble into the river. It splashed and was swallowed without even a ripple. “Safe. Solid. Dependable. Sound familiar?”
Yeah, that sounded like Kent all right. How he could find such dull work interesting was beyond Garth’s comprehension. “
Better you than me. Sounds boring.”
“You got it wrong, Garth. He’ll be right in his element. Smokey the Bear will get to lecture everyone who makes the mistake of wanting a camping vacation.” Kyle tipped back his head and howled at his own joke.
“What’s wrong with wanting people to be safe?” Ellen asked with much more intensity than the comment deserved.
“They don’t want to be safe. They want to have fun.”
Ellen’s hold on Kent’s arm tightened. Her face was an indignant scrunch.
“Let it go,” Kent said between gritted teeth.
“I can’t.”
“That’s right, Kent. She can’t let go. She’ll cage even someone as stodgy as you in the end.” Without looking at Ellen, Kyle launched another missile into Red Thunder. The body English behind the motion told a story a mile long.
Garth licked the fry salt from his fingers. A mule facing a wall. He’d been right. Kyle wasn’t ready to kiss and make up yet.
“It’s not the job, Kyle,” she said.
“Then what is it?”
She blushed a deep shade of red. Her gaze darted from Kent to him. “Can’t we talk in private?”
“Hey, you’re the one who came barging in uninvited.”
Ah, there it was. Body language never lied. Why hadn’t he seen it sooner? So they’d done it and innocent little Ellen was a virgin no longer. Funny how Kyle hadn’t mentioned that bit of news. He was usually more than eager to brag about his conquests. What would the sheriff say if he knew his precious daughter was no longer pure? Garth filed away the tidbit.
So Ellen had finally given herself to Kyle and was having a hard time accepting her lover’s imminent departure to a ranch out in West Texas. Not that he blamed her. Kyle had a way of attracting trouble. If she weren’t around, she probably figured some of that trouble would be of the female persuasion. She’d more than likely be right. Kyle lived the cowboy image to the hilt—from hat to boots to horse—and the girls did swoon over his dark good looks when he was all dudded up and riding his flashy black horse. Those high cheekbones, those blacker than black eyes, that singular stamp of pride made a Makepeace stand out from a crowd and attracted women like flies to honey.
