“Dianna! You’re bleeding!”
She didn’t recall falling to her knees, but that was where she was, gasping, when Travis found her. Only then did she notice the blood on her hand.
“I’m all right,” she managed, her throat aching. “I got free. I scratched Farley’s face.”
“Farley? He was here?”
Before she could respond, she was lifted to her feet, but the wobbliness of her legs didn’t matter, for Travis pulled her firmly against his chest. This time she didn’t mind being held tightly by a man.
This time it was Travis.
“You’re okay?” he murmured softly into her hair.
“He tried to choke me. Why now? He could have killed me before, if he’d wanted to.”
She gave a small cry of protest as Travis pulled back to inspect her. Very gently, his fingers touched her throat.
“Damn him,” he said. “I swear, you’re not leaving my sight. Ever again.” The steely look on Travis’s face made it clear he meant it. She had the sudden feeling Travis would risk his very soul to make sure Farley got what he deserved.
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
We’ve got an intoxicating lineup crackling with passion and peril that’s guaranteed to lure you to Harlequin Intrigue this month!
Danger and desire abound in As Darkness Fell—the first of two installments in Joanna Wayne’s HIDDEN PASSIONS: Full Moon Madness companion series. In this stark, seductive tale, a rugged detective will go to extreme lengths to safeguard a feisty reporter who is the object of a killer’s obsession. Then temptation and terror go hand in hand in Lone Rider Bodyguard when Harper Allen launches her brand-new miniseries, MEN OF THE DOUBLE B RANCH.
Will revenge give way to sweet salvation in Undercover Avenger by Rita Herron? Find out in the ongoing NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. If you’re searching high and low for a thrilling romantic suspense tale that will also satisfy your craving for adventure—you’ll be positively riveted by Bounty Hunter Ransom from Kara Lennox’s CODE OF THE COBRA.
Just when you thought it was safe to sleep with the lights off…Guardian of her Heart by Linda O. Johnston—the latest offering in our BACHELORS AT LARGE promotion—will send shivers down your spine. And don’t let down your guard quite yet. Lisa Childs caps off a month of spine-tingling suspense with a gripping thriller about a madman bent on revenge in Bridal Reconnaissance. You won’t want to miss this unforgettable debut of our new DEAD BOLT promotion.
Here’s hoping these smoldering Harlequin Intrigue novels will inspire some romantic dreams of your own this Valentine’s Day!
Enjoy,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
GUARDIAN OF HER HEART
LINDA O. JOHNSTON
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda O. Johnston’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for “Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year.” Now, several published short stories and novels later, Linda is recognized for her outstanding work in the romance genre.
A practicing attorney, Linda juggles her busy schedule between mornings of writing briefs, contracts and other legalese, and afternoons of creating memorable tales of the paranormal, time travel, mystery, contemporary and romantic suspense. Armed with an undergraduate degree in journalism with an advertising emphasis from Pennsylvania State University, Linda began her versatile writing career running a small newspaper, then working in advertising and public relations, later obtaining her J.D. degree from Duquesne University School of Law in Pittsburgh.
Linda belongs to Sisters in Crime and is actively involved with Romance Writers of America, participating in the Los Angeles, Orange County and Western Pennsylvania chapters. She lives near Universal Studios, Hollywood, with her husband, two sons and two cavalier King Charles spaniels.
Books by Linda O. Johnston
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
592—ALIAS MOMMY
624—MARRIAGE: CLASSIFIED
655—OPERATION: REUNITED
688—TOMMY’S MOM
725—SPECIAL AGENT NANNY
757—GUARDIAN OF HER HEART
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Dianna Englander—She misses her murdered husband, but will never again allow so domineering a man into her life.
Travis Bronson—The undercover cop got distracted on his last case by caring too much, and the civilian he was protecting got killed. He has vowed that won’t happen again.
Glen Farley—He learned the sweetness of revenge by murdering Dianna’s powerful politician husband—the first of many. But why is he tormenting Dianna again?
Julie Alberts—The adolescent’s mother died in an accident last year, and she has grown close to her “aunt” Dianna.
Jeremy Alberts—Julie’s father and one of Dianna’s bosses, he wants more from Dianna than her excellent work managing the dispute resolution center named for her deceased husband.
Wally Sellers—Jeremy’s partner is eager to obtain publicity for the Englander Dispute Resolution Center. Too eager?
Bill Hultman—The restauranteur would do nearly anything to increase business.
My thanks to the wonderful men and women
of the Los Angeles Police Department,
especially those who were so kind in answering my
questions and giving me a tour of the Van Nuys station
for this book. I admit to modifications and exaggerations
in the interests of my story.
My thanks also to my wonderful man, Fred.
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
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Prologue
Dianna Englander drew in her breath so sharply that it sounded like a muffled scream.
There. Behind the green minivan, several rows away in the parking garage, stood a familiar figure. Again.
He was too far off for her to see him clearly, but she felt him grinning at her.
She stood, trembling, beside her red sports car in its assigned parking space. She gripped the handle of the driver’s door. Moisture flooded her eyes and spilled over—tears of fury. Of frustration.
Of anguish.
She’d known she hadn’t been hallucinating the first time she’d seen him, a week earlier.
After all this time, he had come after her. Here.
Oh, she hadn’t been hard to find after all the hype about the opening of the Englander Dispute Resolution Center almost exactly a year ago.
The Center had been named after her husband Brad—dead, thanks to the man who stood just a few yards away. Murdered by that monster.
And so was the precious baby created by Brad and her, who had died before ever being born…
“Damn you, Glen Farley.” Dianna’s voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in her mind. Damn you…damn you.
But she was the one who had been damned.
Knowing how foolish it was, she took a step toward the evil creature who had ruined her family. He raised his hand as if waving to her and walked beyond the minivan and into the next row of parked vehicles.
“Stop!” She hadn’t intended to cry out, but the shout filled the air.
She heard soft voices behind he
r and turned. A woman with a couple of kids approached a sedan a few cars away, looking nervous as she hastily shepherded the children inside.
Dianna pasted a small smile on her face that she intended to be reassuring. But judging by the way the woman slammed her car door shut and quickly started the engine, Dianna knew she looked as distraught as she felt.
As the car pulled away, she returned her attention to where she had seen Farley.
He wasn’t there.
She realized then how fast she was breathing. Inhaling the ugly odor of exhaust fumes, here in the indoor parking garage.
She yanked at her purse until its strap jerked off her shoulder. She fumbled with the zipper till it opened and dug for her cell phone. Call 9-1-1, the rational part of her mind instructed.
“Hey, Dianna,” said a soft female voice behind her. Dianna pivoted. Eleven-year-old Julie Alberts stood near her father Jeremy’s black luxury sedan in its space two over from Dianna’s. Julie’s brown eyes, luminous even in the dim parking garage light, widened. Tendrils of brown hair that had escaped from the barrette at the back of her neck framed her gamine face in coiled wisps. “Are you okay?” she asked.
No! Dianna wanted to scream. But she didn’t want to frighten Julie. “I’m fine, honey. I was just leaving. Get in my car and come with me, okay?” She slipped her phone back into her purse. What good would the police do now?
“But my dad’s supposed to meet me here to drive me home.”
But Farley was here. Farley killed people.
They had to leave, all of them.
“We’ll pick him up at the elevator,” Dianna said. “Let’s go. Now.”
Julie didn’t move. She looked scared. “Dianna, what’s wrong?”
Before she could answer, Jeremy Alberts appeared near the doorway from the elevator. “There he is.” Dianna motioned to him to come quickly, then hesitated. Was it better to flee through the garage or drive out? Before she made up her mind, Jeremy joined them. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, parroting his daughter’s words. He gave Dianna an odd look.
Her emotions were clearly showing.
“Did you see—?” He didn’t finish, but the question remained written in the furrow of his shaggy salt-and-pepper brows.
He didn’t have to say more.
Dianna had filled him in the first time. Fortunately, he had believed her. Had acted appropriately.
But all his security measures hadn’t stopped Farley from returning.
“We’ll fix it, Dianna,” he said in a gruffly reassuring voice. “Don’t worry.”
“We need to get out of here,” Dianna told him. “Now.”
“Yes,” he agreed, hurrying Julie to his car.
Dianna tried to watch everywhere at once. There were no other cars driving around, no further sign of Farley. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still here. Or that he hadn’t rigged up something harmful.
“What’s going on?” Dianna heard Julie insist before the car door closed behind her.
Dianna got into her own vehicle. Her hands trembled as she clutched the steering wheel, and she watched all around as she let Jeremy’s car lead the way down the ramp, get out first.
If Glen Farley hurt someone else, it shouldn’t be the Alberts.
Or her. Or anyone.
It had been more than a year since he’d stopped stalking her…before.
Why was he here? Oh, Lord, why was he here?
Chapter One
“Why is it that you’re always hungry after school?” Dianna gave Julie’s shoulders a hug as the elevator door opened onto the vast, architecturally dynamic lobby of the Englander Dispute Resolution Center. The building was modern, yet, with its arched windows, high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers, its feel was old-world grand.
The heels of Dianna’s navy pumps clicked on the marble floors. The shoes matched her linen suit—short-skirted, professional but comfortable in the Los Angeles winter. Dianna, from the east, still couldn’t get used to how warm it was this time of year. She had even cut her blond hair into a soft, slick pageboy parted in the middle, rather than keeping it long as she had once worn it.
Or maybe she’d needed to change everything about her life….
“Being bored at school starves me,” the child replied to Dianna’s question, looking up with a huge, adult-charming grin that displayed slightly crooked front teeth.
She kept grinning even as, on their way to the door outside, Dianna and she passed by the security guards screening people who entered.
Dianna kept grinning, too—but hers was forced.
She had Jeremy, Julie’s father, to thank for the extra security in the building. Of course, since this was part of the Van Nuys, California, civic center, security screening was a way of life. The area housed all sorts of government office buildings: federal, state and municipal. And courthouses. And post offices. And other structures that could attract unsavory people with mayhem on their minds.
Like Glen Farley.
But these dark-uniformed, brusque security guys were new. Efficient, thorough and even unnerving, they had come highly recommended, Jeremy had said, by some law enforcement hotshots he trusted. He had hired them as a result of Dianna’s spotting Farley the first time. He hadn’t seen the horrible man. Neither had Julie. But thank heavens Jeremy had taken her word for it. She had nearly given up hoping for people to believe her.
She certainly hadn’t bothered notifying the feds hunting for Farley since Brad’s murder, either about the first time she saw Farley here or the second. During those initial horrendous months after her husband’s death, she had seen Farley several times, hanging around. Taunting her. She’d reported it then. But the agents on the case had evidence that Farley had fled the area —evidence they apparently found more credible than her fearful and emotional phone calls. Though they claimed to have checked, they’d found no sign of him.
The last times she called, she doubted they’d looked at all.
That was one of many reasons she had left Washington.
“Hey, look,” Julie said, drawing Dianna out of her disturbing thoughts. She pointed her index finger, its nail chewed to an irregular edge, toward a pushcart on the paved plaza outside the Center.
One day, Dianna would have to introduce the girl she thought of as her surrogate niece to the pleasures of nail polish—clear or light pink, for a preteen. Maybe then she wouldn’t gnaw on her nails.
Julie didn’t have a mother to teach her such things.
“What’s that guy doing?” Julie grabbed Dianna’s elbow and pulled her toward the elaborately decorated cart. A sign on its surface proclaimed that it sold “Fare to keep you awake and alive.” Below was a list of food, drinks and prices: mochas, lattes and all imaginable coffee creations, sweet rolls, and cold gourmet sandwiches.
Dianna hadn’t thought she was hungry, but her stomach grumbled.
What was that guy doing?
A man in a white T-shirt with a red Cart à la Carte logo in the middle stood right beside the pushcart. His hands were in motion—a good thing, too, for he was juggling knives. And not wimpy butter knives, but steak knives with wicked-looking serrations. He wasn’t tossing them high, but they flew end-over-end as he flawlessly caught and tossed them in his obviously skilled, large hands. The motion of his arms emphasized the breadth of substantial biceps and tautened his shirt against his equally broad and muscular chest.
“Wow,” said Julie in an awed voice beside Dianna. I’ll second that, Dianna thought, though for different reasons than Julie. The guy was definitely sexy.
Not that she was into guys these days, let alone sex. It was okay to admire a good-looking man from afar, but that was definitely all.
This guy’s hair was sandy brown, cut short, almost military style. He was barely even looking at the dangerous utensils that twisted and soared under his control. His cobalt-blue eyes appeared to be fixed on Dianna.
And when she caught his glance, one corner of his wide, straight mouth curved s
lightly upward in acknowledgment.
She had seen him before.
Where?
He stopped juggling, catching the knives and setting them down on the cart. “Can I help you?” he said. “How about an albacore tuna sandwich for the young lady, and an espresso for her lovely companion?”
The guy’s tongue was as flawless as his juggling. As he’d stressed the word young, Dianna had been certain he would refer to her as the “older lady,” but instead he had complimented her.
She recalled suddenly where she had seen him before: in the reception area of the A-S Development offices, where Dianna managed the dispute resolution center named for her husband.
The Englander Center was an experiment that held great promise, and A-S Development, which had constructed it, also was responsible to ensure its use.
In this area abounding with courts and litigants, the idea was to encourage people to save time and money by paying mediators to help them resolve disputes amicably. Or, if they couldn’t, they could hire “rent-a-judges”—real, retired judges who held realistic trials in the Center’s own model courtrooms.
So far, the experiment was a success. The law offices within the Center were completely rented, and Dianna had no problem filling the conference and courtrooms nearly constantly.
So many people were undoubtedly a good market for food vendors. And that was where Dianna had seen the gorgeous hunk of a juggler before: that morning, in her office, peddling food.
“Would you like a sandwich here, Julie?” she asked the girl. “Or would you like to go to one of the other carts along the promenade?”
“Oh, but you have to stay here,” the man told them. “It’s in the cards.” Dianna couldn’t figure out where he could have fit a deck of cards in the side pocket of his snug jeans, but he whipped one out with a flourish. “Pick a card, lovely companion,” he said, stepping toward Dianna.
She felt her cheeks redden. “No, thanks,” she said. “Julie, let’s—”
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