Harlequin Heartwarming December 2020 Box Set
Page 25
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“Go home, Bo, and leave my kid alone.”
“Sorry, I can’t do that.”
She was halfway through the door and she quickly swung back. “What?”
“I promised Luci I would play with her.”
“No!” Becky walked out onto the porch, and her blue eyes were doing their usual thing, sending daggers his way. “Stay away from my daughter.”
“Why does it make you so nervous that I’m talking to Luci?”
“It doesn’t.” She brushed a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, belying that statement.
“Who’s Luci’s father?”
He thought the question would spike her blood pressure, but she was very calm, staring at him with cool eyes. “And that concerns you how?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Good, we’re clear on that. Now please stay away from my daughter.”
He strolled across the street and knew he wasn’t going to do as she’d asked. His interest was piqued. What was Becky hiding?
Dear Reader,
How many times have you said I’m sorry? A lot, right? How many times have you meant it? Probably not so many. I grew up with three brothers and we fought all the time. My mom would make us say I’m sorry, but we never meant it.
Bo Goodnight and Becky Tullous fell in love in high school and Bo promised her forever, but he bailed on her and joined the army. When he comes home, he repeatedly tells her how sorry he is and he can’t understand why she can’t forgive him. It was simple: she doesn’t feel his I’m sorry in her heart, and until that happens, she can’t forgive him. As kids we’re taught to say the words, but as adults the words have no meaning unless the other person feels them in his or her heart.
Bo and Becky are now older and back home at the same time reliving old memories. But will that be enough to guarantee a happy ending for them?
With love and thanks,
Linda
PS: You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com, send me a message on Facebook.com/authorlindawarren, find me on Twitter, @texauthor, write me at PO Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my website at lindawarren.net. Your mail and thoughts are deeply appreciated.
A Christmas Proposal
Linda Warren
Two-time RITA® Award–nominated author Linda Warren has written over forty books for Harlequin. A native Texan, she’s a member of Romance Writers of America and the RWA West Houston chapter. Drawing upon her years of growing up on a ranch, she writes about some of her favorite things: Western-style romance, cowboys and country life. She married her high school sweetheart and they live on a lake in central Texas. He fishes and she writes. Works perfect.
Books by Linda Warren
Harlequin Heartwarming
Texas Rebels
A Child’s Gift
To Save a Child
Harlequin Western Romance
Texas Rebels
Texas Rebels: Egan
Texas Rebels: Falcon
Texas Rebels: Quincy
Texas Rebels: Jude
Texas Rebels: Phoenix
Texas Rebels: Paxton
Texas Rebels: Elias
Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.
To Christi Hendricks—for all the book signings through the years.
CONTENTS
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
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Epilogue
CHAPTER ONE
“LOAD UP. WE have a situation.” Lieutenant Nancy Haskins’s voice boomed through the intercom system.
SWAT officer Beauregard Goodnight grabbed his ballistic helmet, goggles and scoped sniper rifle, and crawled into the SWAT Hummer with his teammates. The lieutenant slid into the passenger seat and Theodore Kopenski, better known as Speed because he had a thing for racing cars, took the driver’s seat. Six officers sat in the back ready to face the dark underbelly of Austin’s society.
“Listen up.” His boss’s strong voice echoed in the Hummer. This was the first time Bo had reported directly to a woman, and the lieutenant was strong, confident and didn’t take crap from anyone. She could bust a man’s chops just as hard as their male commander. “We have a fifteen-year-old pregnant girl and a sixteen-year-old boy holed up in a house in East Austin. A neighbor called and said she heard screaming and went to check to see if anything was wrong. The boy said they were just horsing around. She continued to hear screaming and went back over. He told her to mind her own business. She called the cops and the boy told them that nothing was wrong. They called us for a better assessment since the girl is pregnant. The girl’s name is Melissa Tate and the boy is Bradley Taylor. Need information, Patel.”
Kyle Patel was the geek on the squad, in charge of all technology and robotics. There wasn’t anything he couldn’t find on a computer. He always sat behind the lieutenant to give her the information she needed.
His hands flew across the keyboard. Isaiah Williams, otherwise known as Preacher, asked everyone to bow their heads. Preacher was about six foot four and weighed 260 pounds, and no one ever objected when he asked them to pray. He did the same thing every time they left the station and also when they returned. He was the negotiator on the squad and was known for his ability to con a con.
Caden James sat next to Preacher. His family owned a large ranch outside of Austin and in his younger days he’d been a bronc rider. Almost every day there was one woman or another waiting for him. He was the ladies’ man of the group and was often teased about it. Because he was a diehard cowboy, when the combat boots came off, the cowboy boots went on. He was a bomb and explosives expert.
Across from him was Cordero Cruz. He was the shortest man on the team and what he missed in height he made up for in speed. If they needed someone to get in and out quickly, they always called on Cruz. He could scale a building faster than anyone. He had an unflappable personality and was always smiling, except when they were on a scene. He was the team’s medical tech.
Bo sat on the end across from Malachi Hutchinson, known as Hutch. He was a firearms expert and a sniper, as was Bo. They worked in tandem and some days it was hard for Bo to fit into that mode, but he’d slowly learned to trust and to work as part of a group. His life depended on it, as did that of every member of the team.
“Cruz, James, give me a hand.” Patel was speaking and Bo listened closely. “Information on Taylor was easy to find on Facebook. He’s a junior in high school and is scheduled to graduate early. He’s an honor student and has a Harvard scholarship waiting. He lives with his mother, Tina, who rents the house from Frost Realty. The lease is up June 1. At that time Taylor is supposed to join his mother in Dallas. She moved there to be with a guy she met on the internet.
“Melissa Tate’s life is written all over media accounts and lived with her grandmother due to the fact that her parents moved to California six months ago for her father’s job. She’s also an honor student and as soon as the school year ends, which is a week away, she’s supposed to join her parents in California. There is no information that Melissa is pregnant.
“Got quick responses from the school and the grandmother and neither is aware of a pregnancy. The g
randmother said Melissa left two days ago to stay with her boyfriend to study. The mother is supposed to be there, according to the grandma. I’ve messaged Taylor’s mother on Facebook and she’s finally answered. She’s unaware of any pregnancy with the girlfriend. She says the neighbor is just nosy. I’ve asked her to call her son and get him to open the door.”
“Hold on,” the lieutenant said. “We’re almost there and hopefully the young man has complied.”
Bo stared down at his combat boots, perfectly shined without a speck of dust on them, mentally preparing himself for the scene ahead.
In Afghanistan, dealing with the enemy had become routine. He’d been a soldier fighting in a war and it was his duty. Back home in the States, it wasn’t so easy. Thank God he hadn’t had to kill anyone. He’d shot a man in the arm and another in the leg to avoid taking a life. He had honed his skills overseas and today he could place a bullet just about anywhere he wanted to. That wasn’t bragging. It was a skill he’d learned to stay alive. And to save lives.
If the boy was holding the girl against her will, they would have to go in. He would do his job to save the girl. When on a job, by sheer force of willpower, he didn’t sweat, nor did his hands get clammy and neither did they shake. He went into his own zone in his head, one he could control.
He sat on the end in the Hummer. That was his thing, and everyone knew it. He had to be the first one out to assess the situation. Of course, that was probably news to the lieutenant, but the guys knew.
“Taylor’s mother said he’s not answering his phone,” Patel announced.
The Hummer swerved in behind two cop cars. Speed had lived up to his name. They were in a mostly rental area in a run-down neighborhood. Brightly colored houses dotted the street and people gathered around, wanting to know what was going on.
“Stand ready for orders!” the lieutenant shouted. She stopped a minute to speak to the cops. The bright May sunshine sparkled with light and freshness in the early morning as a dog barked and murmurs echoed. The team stood ready. “Secure the perimeter!” the lieutenant shouted again. “Goodnight, stay with me.”
He hated it when she singled him out like a rank rookie, but he stood by her side as she fired questions at the cops.
“How long has the couple been in there?”
“We’ve been here about thirty minutes and Mrs. Gonzales—” he pointed to the woman standing behind him “—heard the girl scream about an hour and a half ago. The girl came to the window to show she was okay and told an officer they were just fooling around. We called SWAT before we broke down the door for no reason. We didn’t want to look like idiots.”
“All clear in back,” James said into his shoulder mic. “There’s a back door, but all the blinds are drawn and there’s no way to see inside without breaking a window.”
“Stand ready,” the lieutenant replied, walking to the front door. They all wore Kevlar protective vests and panels, and she stood slightly to the side in case someone started shooting. With her right hand she banged on the door. “This is Lieutenant Haskins with SWAT. Could you please come to the door?”
“We haven’t done anything wrong!” the boy shouted back.
“There’s a pregnant girl in there and we have to know that she’s okay.”
“She is. She just wants everyone to leave us alone.”
The lieutenant walked back to where Bo and the cops were standing. “There’s a small glass window in the front door. Has anyone looked inside?”
“We don’t have anyone tall enough,” a cop replied. “It’s, like, two inches by two inches and about six inches from the top of the door. It’s weird. We can’t understand why someone would put a piece of glass there. There’s about a ten-inch step up into the house, which puts the little pane out of our reach. Mrs. Gonzales was going to get a chair we could stand on when you arrived.”
“You’re tall, Goodnight. See if you can get a look through that small pane.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He bounded toward the door. Grass scraped against his combat boots and the wind blew a disposable cup into his path. His boot crushed it; his focus never wavered. In a sweeping glance he took in the perimeter. Grass and weeds grew onto the sidewalk and into the flower beds. Someone hadn’t tended to the yard in a long time. It looked as if no one lived there. As opposed to the yellow house next door, which had blooming flowers reaching for the sunshine in a yard that was neatly maintained.
He went up the steps and stood on his tiptoes to get a glance through the little window. At six foot two he still had to strain to see. Once he did, tension gripped his body and without a second thought he jammed his shoulder against the door to pop it open.
He leaped over the coffee table to get to the girl on the couch giving birth. Blood had soaked into the cushions and dripped onto the carpet. Her knees were drawn up and the baby was almost out. That’s what Bo had seen—a blue baby with the umbilical cord around its neck. Time was crucial for the baby. He fell down beside the couch and reached for the pocket knife on his duty belt to cut the cord. The baby slid into his waiting hands.
“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?” the boy asked. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this. What’s wrong?”
Bo didn’t have time to deal with the boy. The baby wasn’t breathing. He jerked off his gloves, stuck his finger into her mouth and cleaned out the mucus. The baby still wasn’t breathing. He had to do CPR. He placed two fingers near the center of her breastbone and did compressions and then tilted her tiny head and covered her nose and mouth and blew. He had to be careful because her bones were very delicate. He repeated the procedure.
“Come on, little angel. Come on.” Her eyes were closed and her blood-covered blue body was limp. “Come on, little angel. Give me a breath. One little breath.” He heard a whimper and stopped compressions. He waited. “Breathe, little angel.”
The baby turned her head toward the sound and Bo placed his hand over her tiny chest. Her heart began to thud against his palm. “Yes!” He grabbed a blanket that was on the end table and wrapped it around the baby and his hand, making sure to keep her warm. If he removed his hand, he was afraid she would stop breathing.
“The ambulance is here,” the lieutenant said, and Bo hadn’t even realized the whole team stood in the room, watching. Cruz and Preacher were attending to the girl.
Cruz stood and nodded, meaning the girl was gone.
“What?” the boy asked, and then the meaning became clear to him, too. He shook his head. “No. She’s just tired. She’s been in labor all night. She’s just tired. No!”
Preacher put his arm around the boy and Bo walked out of the room with the baby cradled in his right arm.
“Goodnight,” the lieutenant called. “The paramedics will take care of the baby.”
“No, ma’am. I’m not taking my hand off the baby’s chest. I’m going to the hospital with her.”
“Goodnight—”
He walked out the door even though he knew he would catch flak for it, but he wasn’t letting go of the baby, even if it cost him his job. The paramedic tried to take her and Bo said again, “I’m afraid if I remove my hand, her heart will stop.”
In the back of the ambulance, the paramedic placed a warming blanket around the baby then used a warm wipe to remove blood from the baby’s face and clean the gook from her eyes. He was on the phone to the hospital, giving a status report.
“Her heart rate is low. An officer has a hand on her chest and doesn’t want to remove it in case her heart stops. Okay. Got it.” He turned to Bo and Bo prayed they had time to make it to the hospital. “The doctor says okay. Push it,” he said to the driver, and they zoomed through traffic and red lights, the siren blaring all the way.
The ambulance came to a screeching halt at the ER entrance. Bo got out, ran into the emergency room and carefully laid the baby on a gurney with his hand still on her ches
t. He blinked at the bright lights and realized he still had his helmet on.
Three nurses and a doctor were in the room. The doctor came around to where Bo stood. “Officer, you can remove your hand now.”
“Her heart started beating again when I placed my hand on her chest and I’m afraid to remove it.”
The doctor reached under the blanket and placed his hand over Bo’s. “I got it.”
Bo slowly removed his hand and stepped back. “I’ll be outside. Would you please let me know how she’s doing?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied. “We’ll be taking her to pediatric ICU, but someone will let you know. Thank you, officer.”
Bo walked out of the room, gave a long sigh, removed his helmet and came face-to-face with the woman he’d loved most of his life. Rebecca Tullous. Her blue eyes opened wide as she saw his blood-soaked grayish-green SWAT uniform.
She rushed forward. “Bo, are you okay?” At the worry in her eyes he knew she still loved him, but getting her to admit that would be like pulling out his own teeth with his fingers. Becky was never going to love him again. And it was his fault.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just brought in a newly delivered baby and I’m waiting to see if she’s going to be okay.”
Becky was as beautiful as the first day he’d met her. Blue eyes and long blond hair were always a trigger for him, but there was also something different about Becky. She was sweet, kind and loving, and touched a part of his heart that had just been waiting for someone to love. At seventeen years of age, he’d fallen in love for the first and only time in his life.
When they met, her father had just moved them from Dallas to Horseshoe and she wasn’t happy. She missed her friends and wanted to go back. Bo had offered to show her around the school and introduce her to people. From that moment forward they’d been an item, boyfriend-girlfriend and later much more. He’d never wanted to be away from her. But then the devil had heaped a whole lot of misery on him and he’d done what every teenager would do in that situation. He ran.