Lone Rider Bodyguard

“I think the devil looks just like you, Tye,” Susannah said unevenly. “That’s why he’s so dangerous.”

Just for a moment she would have sworn she saw something flash behind those eyes—something that could have been pain.

“What’s that expression about giving a dog a bad name?”

Without seeming to move at all, suddenly Tye had lessened the distance between them to no more than a few inches. Behind her, Susannah felt the hard edge of the counter pressing into her back.

“Give a dog a bad name and he’ll bite?” she ventured.

“That’s it.” He bent his head, obliterating the last of her precious buffer zone. “You can call me off anytime, Suze,” he said, his tone velvety. “But maybe you don’t want to. Maybe after a lifetime of putting the devil behind you, just this once you’d like to be tempted….”

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

Lone Rider Bodyguard

Harper Allen

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Harper Allen lives in the country in the middle of a hundred acres of maple trees with her husband, Wayne, six cats, four dogs—and a very nervous cockatiel at the bottom of the food chain. For excitement she and Wayne drive to the nearest village and buy jumbo bags of pet food. She believes in love at first sight because it happened to her.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Susannah Bird—On the run from her husband’s killers, can she trust the brooding stranger who helps deliver her son and find refuge at the Double B Ranch?

Tyler Adams—The bodyguard with a past will take on any risk to protect Susannah and her newborn son—but has he put his own heart in danger?

Del Hawkins—The Vietnam vet runs the Double B Ranch, a reform camp for teens in trouble—as Tye Adams had once been. But is the ranch still a refuge for those in danger…or a deadly trap?

Alice Tahe—The Navajo matriarch claims she sees an evil she calls Skinwalker threatening the Double B…and Susannah’s baby.

Vincent Rosario—The two-bit crook has a grudge against Del. He doesn’t care if he has to destroy a young mother and her child to carry out his plan.

Michael Saranno—The mobster may have had a reason for having Susannah’s ex-husband eliminated, but what about her and her child?

Paul Johnson and Kevin Bradley—Can Tye trust the Double B hired hands to keep danger away from Susannah?

Daniel Bird, John MacLeish, Zeke Harmond— Along with Del Hawkins, they were the members of the original Double B—Beta Beta Force, a covert ops organization in Vietnam that was disbanded in tragedy.

To Saint Martha and the menagerie

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 One

Whoever she was, she was in trouble.

A woman’s breathing, harsh and edged, sliced the sudden silence as Tyler Adams cut the engine of the big Harley and brought it to a halt ahead of the sedan by the side of the highway. He still couldn’t see her, but as he strode back to the car the pain-filled gasps came faster. Guilt flickered through him.

He almost hadn’t stopped. Hell, he’d kept going for another mile or so before his conscience had gotten the better of him and he’d turned back to investigate. It hadn’t been much—just a blinding sparkle coming from the far side of the sedan as he’d passed it—but the only reason he could think of for the sparkle he’d glimpsed was that the car’s back door had been open a little. Muttering under his breath, he’d turned the Harley around.

He’d been right, the back door was open. Protruding from it were two slim legs. Two bare feet dug into the hard-packed New Mexico dirt, their heels lifted and the tendons of their high arches standing out against the fine white road dust covering them. Swiftly he began to walk around the open door to get a look at the rest of her, and as he did the gasps turned into a grunt.

“Stay right there, mister.” The words sounded forced. “I—I’ve got a gun.”

Dammit, she’s been attacked. Even as he froze, the sickened thought tore through his mind. She’d been assaulted and she thought he was the bastard who’d done this to her, come back for a second sadistic round.

Tye suddenly wished he was a couple of inches shorter than six feet, instead of a few over, and a little less bulky, less broad-shouldered. Intimidating worked in his job—he’d built up the bodyguard and protection firm he headed into the agency of choice for nervous celebrities, partially on the strength of the don’t-screw-with-me impression he apparently projected—but she didn’t need big and intimidating right now.

“I’m not here to hurt you, lady.” The ground between her raised heels was darkly wet. Blood, he thought with icy anger. “Let me help you back onto the seat so I can drive you to a hospital.”

The gun thing had probably been a bluff. He stepped past the open door and got his first clear look at her.

The gun thing hadn’t been a bluff. She was holding a massive revolver in both hands, and at this distance if she pulled the trigger he’d be a goner even before he hit the ground. But the damn gun wasn’t important.

She was wearing a summery dress, white with a pattern of red cherries. There were three red buttons on the opened bodice, one of them hanging by a thread, and the ripe swell of her breasts was almost fully exposed. In the hollow between them her skin was slick with sweat.

Her hair was the pale brown of buckwheat honey, deeper by a shade than his own dark blond. It hung in damp strands to her shoulders. The hands holding the revolver were propped up on the enormous curve of her belly.

She was pregnant. Make that very pregnant, Tye told himself hollowly. She was so pregnant that any time now she wouldn’t be pregnant anymore. Any time now the baby inside her was going to start coming out.

He saw her slitted eyes lose focus for a moment, heard her breath whistle between her gritted teeth. Slowly she exhaled.

“I suspect for the next little while I’m goin’ to be too busy to be able to worry about you, mister,” she said softly. “This isn’t anything I ever thought I’d find myself doing, but you people left me no choice.”

He’d told himself the damn gun wasn’t important, but he’d been wrong about that, too. The explosion split the dusty silence like a thunderclap.

He couldn’t remember actually making the decision to hit the ground, Tyler thought a second later. But apparently he had and apparently he almost hadn’t been fast enough. The slashed shoulder of his leather jacket was evidence of that. Losing your edge, buddy, he told himself tightly. Better start getting out in the field again, sharpen up those reflexes.

“You shouldn’t have done that, mister.” The soft voice shook. “I was going for a wing shot, but if you’d jumped the other way this whole thing would have turned out bad for the both of us. I’ve got no desire to bring my baby into the world with blood on my—oh!”

The abrupt exclamation ended in a small gasp, and something about the vulnerability of that noise drove all caution from his mind. Quickly he got to his feet.

Her eyes were squeezed shut and the gun was beside her on the floor of the car. Tye seized his chance.

“Whoever you think I am, you’re wrong, lady,” he said tersely. “You need to get to a delivery room, and fast. Where are the car keys?”

“I guess the part Granny Lacey used to call the rest-and-be-thankful stage is over.” Her voice was thready. “The car broke down, mister. Did I make a mistake about you?”

“I made a couple about you, so I guess we’re even,” he answered briefly. “Just tell me if I’ve got it right. Someone’s after you, this junker isn’t going anywhere and you’re about to have a baby. That about it?” At her nod he went on, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt. “How long have you been in labor?”

“My water broke about half an hour after the car died,” she murmured. Which explained the dampness of the ground between her heels, he thought in relief. “I’m pretty sure I’m fully dilated now. My body’s telling me it’s time to start pushing.”

Tye could still remember the first foal he’d watched being born. Del Hawkins had rousted him, Connor, Riggs and Jess from their beds, only waiting long enough for them to pull on jeans and boots. The four of them had exchanged furious glances, but after a week at the Double B they’d known better than to flat-out confront the wheelchair-bound ex-Marine.

He’d been a tough and surly sixteen-year-old at the time, Tye reflected. He’d thought nothing could get to him. But at the sight of that wobbly foal scrambling up on ridiculously long legs he’d realized there was a lump in his throat. In the glow of the lantern he’d seen the others averting their faces, too.

That night had been a turning point, but he wasn’t sure it qualified him for this.

“There’s a plaid carpetbag on the front seat. I need the newspaper that’s in it.”

Her top lip was dewed with moisture and she’d closed her eyes again. The pain had to be bad, Tye thought. It had her talking crazy—although stress and fear might have something to do with that, too. Who was after her? An abusive husband, despite the fact she wore no wedding band? That seemed unlikely, since from her few cryptic remarks he’d received the impression there was more than one person looking for her, but his questions would have to go unanswered for now. Unzipping his jacket and slinging it onto the roof of the car, he bent down beside her.

“You don’t want to read the paper. If there’s something in that carpetbag I could use to boil water in I could get a fire going.”

“Newspapers are the most sterile thing you can use in an emergency like this, mister. I need it to cover the car seat for when my little one comes out.” She opened her eyes, and for the first time he saw they were almost the same color as her hair—a clear honey-gold, but with a flash of unexpected humor in them. “My Granny Lacey was a midwife, and I started attending birthings with her when I was just a teeny girl myself. I’d be beholden to you for any help you could give me, though.”

She bit her lip, the smile in her eyes disappearing. “But no matter how far along I am, if a car with out-of-state plates slows down you grab ahold of that gun. I can’t explain now, but it appears someone’s looking to bring harm to me and my baby. I—I figured you were working with them,” she added. “I’m real sorry for shooting at you, mister.”

“The name’s Adams. Tyler Adams.”

He reached over the seat for the carpetbag, oddly glad for any excuse to take his gaze from that steady golden one and surprised to find himself feeling so off balance. It was the situation, not the woman, he thought. It couldn’t be the woman, because women never made him feel off balance.

“Susannah Bird. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Ad—”

Her heels were no longer dug into the earth, but braced on the edge of the seat. As he laid another section of newsprint beneath her upraised knees, her words broke off and the next moment he felt his wrist being held in an unexpectedly strong grip.

“This is it.”

The soft tones had been replaced by an effort-filled mutter. Her bent legs opened, the cherry-patterned skirt that till now had provided a tent-like decorum slipping up her thighs. Automatically he moved his gaze to her face, feeling unexpected heat mount in his own, and found himself meeting a fierce honey-gold glare.

“This isn’t no time to stand on ceremony, Tye. And if you’re the squeamish kind, I’ll thank you to leave me to handle this myself,” she ground out between cracked lips.

She was right, he thought, angry with himself. Even though he’d only met Susannah Bird moments ago, even though what she was about to go through would leave no room for modesty, it was the most basic, natural act in the world. And although there’d been a more immediate reason for his returning to New Mexico after all these years, there was no denying that in the back of his mind he’d also had the vague thought that in the place where his life had been turned around once, he might again find some kind of renewal, some kind of grounding.

Before he’d even reached his destination he’d stumbled onto the opportunity to help bring new life into the world. How much more grounded could he get?

“You don’t get rid of me as easily as that,” he said, the curtness in his voice not directed at her. “I’m no Granny Lacey, but I’m all you’ve got. I’m staying.”

Incredibly, the parched lips curved into a smile even as the harsh panting continued and her brows knitted together. For a second her grip on him slackened and he reached into the carpetbag by his feet.

Despite the climbing morning heat, the bottle of water he’d noticed was still cool. Rummaging a little deeper, he came up with a neatly-folded washcloth. Gently he ran the dampened cloth over her moisture-beaded forehead, her dry lips. Through her lashes she shot him a grateful glance.

“Feels…good,” she managed. “Baby…crowning yet, Tye?”

Crowning? What the hell was crowning? he thought in confusion, replacing the bottle’s cap with fingers that felt suddenly thick and clumsy.

Whatever it is, there’s only one place you’re going to be able to see if it’s happening, a caustic voice inside his head said. Stop warming the bench and get into the game here.

Tye hunkered down at the side of the vehicle, and not a moment too soon, he immediately realized. Crowning meant he was the first human being to lay eyes on this new little person who was emerging into the world.

“Aahh!!”

The guttural cry sounded as if it was being wrenched from Susannah’s throat. She’d propped herself up on her elbows, her head thrown back and every tendon in her neck standing out in rigid relief. She cried again, and he could see the agony etched on her contorted features.

“You’re doing fine, Suze,” he rasped, knowing as he spoke how inadequate his words were. “You’re doing great. Keep pushing, honey.”

About to check on the baby’s progress again, out of the corner of his eye he saw a large, cream-colored blur speed by. Where did that come from? he thought in sharp alarm, flicking an automatic glance at the revolver on the floor. The Cadillac receded into the distance without slowing, and he frowned.

She’d been a woman alone on the road, in an unreliable vehicle and with a baby due any time. She might have glimpsed the same car at different gas stations along the way, and out of that concocted a fearful scenario that had grown bigger in her mind with each passing mile. When she’d been at her most vulnerable he’d come along—a jeans-and-leather-clad—

His heart stopped. It started up again, crashing so hard against his ribs it felt as if it was trying to escape.

“His head’s out, Suze,” he said hoarsely. Without conscious thought, he put a swift hand beneath the small skull to support it, just as he heard another incoherent cry issue from her throat.

When he’d been fifteen he’d broken his leg wiping out in a curve on a borrowed motorcycle without a license. During his year at the Double B Ranch he’d been thrown from Chorizo, a hammer-headed Appaloosa gelding Hawkins had expressly forbidden them to ride. Last year he’d taken a bullet in the ribs.

He’d figured he knew what endurance was. But he was a male. He had no idea what toughing it out meant, Tye realized now.

The baby was coming out on its side. Instinctively he lowered the fragile head a fraction, and an incredibly tiny shoulder popped into view. Again acting on instinct and hoping desperately that his instincts were right, he raised his supporting hands slightly.

The bottom shoulder emerged, so suddenly that for one frantic moment his cautious hold almost slipped.

“Turn—turn him on his back,” Susannah gasped. “Bag. Swabs. His nose—”

The little sucker was slippery, Tye thought disjointedly. This was like trying to hang on to a wet football in the rain, and one-handed it was even harder. Groping around in the bag by his feet, his fingers came into contact with a package.

“Cotton swabs,” he muttered. “Touchdown.”

There was some kind of gunk in the little guy’s nose and in the tiny mouth. Presumably the gunk had to come out.

“Of course, you could be a girl,” he said under his breath. He willed his hand to stop shaking, and swabbed at the minute, perfectly-formed nostrils, the goldfish lips. “If you are, no offense, okay? But until we know for sure I’m going to think of you as a—”

“Granny Lacey, help me!”

Even as he heard Susannah’s high-pitched plea to a woman who wasn’t there, Tye felt the small body slide completely into his hands, and frantically he adjusted his hold on—on him, he thought, feeling a grin spreading across his features. It was a boy. They’d had a boy!

“He looks just like me,” he said stupidly. “Just like me, Suze.” He met her pain-sheened gaze, unable to stop smiling despite the moisture he could feel prickling at the back of his eyes. “I mean he’s a boy,” he amended. “We—you’ve got a brand-new baby boy.”

“Is he breathing okay, Tye?” Concern overrode the fatigue in her tone. “Rub his back.”

Apparently it wasn’t like the movies. You didn’t introduce them to the world with a hearty slap on the rump. With infinite care he rubbed the little back and the crumpled lips pursed out, as if they were trying to blow a bubble. The miniscule eyelids squeezed even more tightly shut. A weak cry, more like the mew of a kitten than anything else, came from those crumpled lips.

In the space of a heartbeat—a skipped heartbeat, Tye thought shakily—the kitten-cry became an outraged squall that seemed far too big to have come from such a tiny body.

“Oh, Tye, let me hold him.”

Susannah was propped against the back of the car seat, her arms outstretched. Carefully he leaned forward and placed the small squirming body against her opened bodice before standing back and looking down at them.

Her hair hung in strands, her face was still red from her exertions and her bottom lip had either split slightly or she’d sunk her teeth in too deeply and bitten it at some time during the past hour. The cherry-strewn dress would never be presentable again.

She was so beautiful she took his breath away.

Those hazel-gold eyes were luminous with joy as she looked upon her new son for the first time. With no self-consciousness at all, tenderly she shifted the baby in her arms to her breast. As if a switch had been turned off, the crying stopped…and suddenly everything fell into place.

This was what it all came down to, Tye thought—a mother, a baby and a man watching over them. Why hadn’t he ever figured it out before?

“I got sterile thread to tie off the cord when the afterbirth comes out,” Susannah murmured, not taking her gaze from her son. “But Granny Lacey always said it was best to wait. Isn’t he perfect, Tye? Isn’t he just the most perfect baby you ever saw?”

“He’s better than perfect, Suze.”

When had he started calling her that and when had she started calling him Tye? he wondered, before dismissing the question. It didn’t matter. All he knew was that it seemed right. Despite the fact that they’d barely touched, he’d never felt closer to any woman in his life.

No ring on her finger doesn’t mean she’s not married.

A second ago he’d felt as if he’d just drunk a whole bottle of champagne. His euphoria came crashing down to earth.

He was a stranger who’d happened to be passing by, and the bond he’d thought he sensed between them was all in his imagination. This baby was some other man’s son.

“I’m going to name him Daniel, after my daddy.” Her voice was ragged with exhaustion. “I’d like his middle name to be Tyler, if that’s all right with you. I figure you’re a big part of why he’s here in my arms, safe and sound.”

For a moment Tye couldn’t say a word. Then he pulled himself together.

“His father had a bigger part, Susannah. I’m sure he wouldn’t want his son bearing a stranger’s name instead of his own.”

“His father’s dead. And since everything else he told me was a lie, I can’t even be sure the name I knew him by was real.”

She looked away, but not before he saw a shadow cross her features. “I didn’t shame myself with Frank Barrett,” she said softly. “We were married. But even if he’d lived, I know now he wasn’t the type to raise a child—maybe because inside he’d never really grown up himself. I want my son to be proud of the name he bears.”

She raised her eyes to his. “My daddy was a man,” she said simply. “He stood up for what he believed in, he would have given his life for the ones he loved and whenever he had to make a choice between taking the easy way out or doing what he thought was right, he went with his conscience. I think you’re the same kind. I’d take it as a honor if you let me name this little one Daniel Tyler Bird.”

Less than an hour ago that steady gaze holding his had made him feel off balance, Tye thought. But it had been everything else in his life that had been spinning out of control.

Most people would say the baby in her arms had come into this world with the cards stacked against him. He didn’t have a father. His mother couldn’t be much older than twenty—far too young to take on the responsibility of raising a child alone. He’d been born in the back seat of a broken-down car at the side of a dusty road.