The Protectors of Riker County

This sexy tycoon has everything... So why is he searching for a baby?

To Chief Deputy Suzy Simmons, James Callahan is the dark-haired, sexy-as-hell millionaire with abs from her past. But despite his megacharm and killer body, Suzy deeply distrusts him when he draws her into his investigation of a criminal’s murder. The courageous beauty is determined to get answers, not come-ons. As they race against time, James and Suzy face unseen danger with their case—and hearts—heating up.

The Protectors of Riker County

TYLER ANNE SNELL genuinely loves all genres of the written word. However, she’s realized that she loves books filled with sexual tension and mysteries a little more than the rest. Her stories have a good dose of both. Tyler lives in Alabama with her same-named husband and their mini “lions.” When she isn’t reading or writing, she’s playing video games and working on her blog, Almost There. To follow her shenanigans, visit www.tylerannesnell.com.

Also available by Tyler Anne Snell

Small-Town Face-Off

The Deputy’s Witness

Forgotten Pieces

Private Bodyguard

Full Force Fatherhood

Be on the Lookout: Bodyguard

Suspicious Activities

Manhunt

Visit millsandboon.co.uk for more information

Loving Baby

Tyler Anne Snell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07859-7

LOVING BABY

© 2018 Tyler Anne Snell

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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This book is for Holli Anne. I’ve been waiting for a heroine that I thought you’d be proud of, and I think Suzy is it! She’s an awesome mom, an amazing person and is stronger than even she knows. Basically a rock-star human, like you! Thank you for being my beautiful, rule-breaking moth and also the best Anne out there. Love you to the moon and back, Perkins/Knope!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Author Bio

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Extract

Prologue

“Well, this isn’t good.”

Suzanne Simmons looked down at the body with a growing sense of dread. It wasn’t strong enough to scatter her thoughts or turn her stomach cold, but it did warrant a worried glance at Detective Matt Walker, standing next to her. His face was hard, his eyes sharp as they scanned the dead man at their feet. He crouched down.

“No, this isn’t good at all,” he agreed. “Not if that’s Gardner Todd.”

They lapsed into thoughtful silence as each did their own private inspection of the man without touching him. He was in his midthirties, white and dressed in work coveralls. His boots were new but dirty, with maybe a few weeks’ use. He had a tattoo peeking out at his wrist, a silver ring on his right index finger and three bullets in his belly.

But if it was Gardner Todd, then his death was the least of their worries.

“I guess that, for once, our department of front porch justice got it right,” Matt said after a moment. “Our caller did hear gunshots and not a car backfiring.”

The detective was referring to the older woman named June who had called in to the Riker County Sheriff’s Department, swearing up and down she’d heard a gunfight at the abandoned warehouse two blocks over from her house. Both buildings were on the outskirts of Carpenter, Alabama, and that put the issue square in the sheriff’s department’s jurisdiction.

Though Suzy wouldn’t normally be the one to answer the call, and neither would Matt, they’d been only a street over when it had come in. She might be the chief deputy now, but her sense of obligation to her county hadn’t changed with her promotion. Her soul was forever that of the young deputy she’d been the first day on the job. She took pride in every aspect of her work, even when it was something small.

“Thank goodness for cordless phones, sweet tea and an abundance of free time,” Suzy said. “If she hadn’t been snooping on the neighborhood from her porch, we might not have ever found him.” She did another cursory look around the old saw manufacturing warehouse. The power had been off for years. Shadows dodged rays of light that filtered in from the hole past the rafters, and the few windows not broken or boarded up were coated in dust, pollen and mildew. Like the rest of the large, open room they were in. Suzy’s sinuses pricked something awful. She’d have to take an allergy pill when they got back to her Tahoe. “I don’t think this place gets visitors on a regular basis.”

“That may be true, but I don’t think he was dumped here after he was killed,” Matt said, rising. He pointed to the trail of blood that had first grabbed her attention when they started searching the building. “For whatever reason, he was here, and so was his killer.”

Suzy eyed the two doors at the end of the main room. The offices, most likely. They’d already passed the break room and bathroom up front.

“Let’s finish going through the rest of this place before we dig any deeper into him,” she said, pulling her gun back up. “If that is Gardner, then if all hell hasn’t already broken loose, it will soon. We need to get out in front of this as fast as we can.”

Matt agreed, and together they cleared the last two rooms before coming up to the back door. The lot the warehouse was on stretched wide but was empty. No people, no cars, just dirt, sun and a woman named June two blocks over, probably already gabbing to the whole town about what she’d heard. Which meant that whoever had killed the man inside had already left and had probably taken his car, too.

“I don’t like this,” Matt said at her side. “There’s only two kinds of people who would kill Gardner.”

“The brave and the idiots,” she supplied.

He nodded.

“Either choice doesn’t bode well for us. If you can kill the infamous Alabama Boogeyman, taking out a cop or two trying to solve his murder is easy pickings.”

Suzy sighed. The beginnings of a headache started to throb, pressure wrapping around her right eye. It was going to be a long afternoon and night, she knew. Which meant that allergy pill needed to come sooner rather than later.

“I’m going to go pop some sinus meds and call Billy directly,” she said after a moment of deliberation. “Go ahead and take some pictures of the body with your phone. While everyone knows I’m a fan of our wonderful Crime Scene Unit, we all know they can have lead in their feet. I’d rather have something we can refer to while we wait on them to process everything.”

“You got it, boss.”

Matt went back into the warehouse while Suzy went around it. Her head might have been focused and calm, but her gut muttered a warning. One she didn’t listen to as she moved along the small strip of dead grass between the building and the side parking lot. Something felt off, but she wasn’t sure what that something was.

Until she saw him.

A man wearing a jacket, despite the heat, hurried around the corner of the warehouse.

Between breaths, Suzy barely had time to register two things. She didn’t recognize him.

And he had a gun.

Suzy reacted on instinct, pulling her service weapon up and yelling all at once.

“Drop it right now!”

The man was just as fast. His gun rose up in tandem, like they had planned the routine. It was the only reason Suzy didn’t shoot right away.

She wasn’t sure who had the upper hand.

“Whoa there, buddy,” she said, hurrying over. “Sheriff’s Department.”

The man—thirties, dark hair, and thin-framed glasses—hesitated. Again, just like her, he didn’t put down his gun. However, unlike her, he wasn’t able to justify why he had one aimed at her in the first place. She was law enforcement. Who was he?

“Put your gun down!” Suzy yelled, voice a mix between grit and calm. She didn’t want to agitate the man if she could help it. She’d prefer to talk him down if possible. The fact that she wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest was also a fact she was all too aware of. If she’d had the time, she would have cursed herself for leaving Matt before backup arrived.

But she didn’t have the time. All thoughts were focused on the detective only a building away from her.

The man pulled his trigger before Suzy’s brain could send the instruction to her finger to do the same.

The bang filled the afternoon air like it was a Fourth of July firecracker.

Suzy felt the weight of the world slam into her chest.

Then she was staring up at the sky.

Blue and white, and a little gray.

It was going to storm later. She hoped Justin didn’t miss the bus. His mimi wouldn’t be able to pick him up. Their car was still in the shop.

Another firecracker went off. Suzy tried to move to find the sound, but her body wasn’t listening.

“Officer down!”

A face swam into view. It didn’t belong to Matt. It didn’t belong to the man who’d shot her, either.

“You’re going to be fine,” he said. His voice was so smooth Suzy closed her eyes to savor it. “Hey, you stay with me, okay?”

But even though Suzy wanted to, she couldn’t follow the command.

Her last thoughts before diving into the unknown were about her son, the rain and the stranger with a voice like warm velvet.

Chapter One

James Callahan thrust his hands deep into his pockets and braced against the cold. It was ninety-two degrees outside but only thirty-eight in the freezer. When he’d set up a time to meet a man named Sully the Butcher, James hadn’t thought the place would be in a meat locker at the back of a restaurant downtown. It was a little too clichéd for his tastes. But he was nothing if not flexible.

“You wait here, old man. Or should I say, Padre. I’ll go get ’em.”

The young man—and that was being generous—was standing so close that the heavy scent of cheap aftershave invaded James’s senses. Not in a good way. Whoever this kid was, James bet his dad would be coming home that night to a nearly empty bottle of the stuff. Assuming he had a dad who was around. Usually people who nicknamed themselves Queso and worked for a man called Butcher didn’t have a normal home situation.

“I can see now why you have to make a reservation for this place,” James quipped. He tilted his head to the hunk of meat hanging off a hook right behind them. “It’s pretty crowded in here.”

James busted out a wide grin at his own joke, but Queso wasn’t amused. His exit was accompanied by an eye roll. The man guarding the door—with no nicknames that James knew of—kept his post without moving a muscle. Not that he needed to. Those muscles were thick and tattooed until there was more ink than bare skin. He didn’t need a nickname. His purpose was to intimidate without saying a word.

James bet he was great at that. Sully might not be world famous, but he did a good job of keeping his name in the minds of the criminal underworld throughout the state. His network wasn’t as big as that of the locals running the city of Kipsy a half hour away, but he didn’t let that stop him from dipping his toes into the rest of the county’s affairs. Still, regardless of Sully’s lack of infamy, if anybody found themselves in his freezer with muscle guarding the door, they had every right to worry.

But while James wasn’t a criminal, he wasn’t exactly a nobody, either.

“Well, well, if it isn’t the golden savior himself.” On cue, a small-statured man walked in and spread his arms wide. James was surprised for several reasons. One, the man was wearing a pink-collared shirt, khaki shorts and golf shoes. Two, he looked closer to James’s age of thirty-two than the old, weathered man he had been expecting. “Can’t say I ever thought we’d meet like this, but who am I to question fate?”

He extended his hand, and James shook it.

“I have to admit, I thought you’d make me wait a lot longer in here,” he said by way of greeting. “Make me sweat it, so to speak.”

Sully laughed the thought off.

“I’m not trying to get information out of you, Mr. Callahan. In fact, I hear it’s the other way around. And that is what interests me. As for the freezer?” He shrugged. “You know how the gossip wheel turns in this place? That doesn’t stop just because we’re not your average residents. If I don’t keep up appearances, then that might send the wrong message to some of my associates. They might start questioning me. And I don’t like questions.”

“But you agreed to meet me.”

Sully nodded. His hair, golden, thick and curly, was just another piece that didn’t seem to fit the man or his reputation. Then again, James knew that images didn’t always go hand in hand with reality.

“I don’t like questions, but I do like mysteries,” Sully informed him. “And it seems you walked into a big one.”

“Gardner Todd’s death.”

Sully nodded, and his humor dropped a few pegs.

“What happened to him is...troubling,” Sully admitted.

“That’s a nice way to put it.” James pulled a picture out of his pocket. “As is the man who presumably shot him.”

Sully took the picture and was polite enough to examine it like he’d never seen the image of the dead man before. James bet there wasn’t a cop or criminal who hadn’t already seen it. It wasn’t every day someone got the jump on the Alabama Boogeyman.

“You don’t think he was the one who shot Gardner?” That surprised the man. “I thought the sheriff’s department linked a gun he owned to the one that took out Todd.”

“They did, and I do think he shot him,” James conceded. “But what I don’t get is why.” He tapped the picture with his index finger twice. “This man’s name is Lester McGibbon—”

“An unfortunate name,” Sully interrupted to add.

“He lived in Atlanta and was suspected of corporate espionage but later cleared,” he continued. “The man drove a Prius, had a soft spot for rescue dogs and took his son on fishing trips almost every weekend during the summer. He was white-collar crime through and through. So why did he come all the way to southern Alabama to kill the infamous Gardner Todd?”

James could feel his adrenaline spiking with every new thought. Even if he’d asked himself these same questions during many sleepless nights.

“So that’s why you went looking for me,” Sully said, a grin pulling up his lips. If they had been anywhere other than inside a freezer, James would have mistaken the man for some rich tourist, getting ready for a trip down to the beach a few hours away, perpetually retired and two seconds away from pulling out a margarita and donning a visor. “Because ole Lester was white-collar crime.”

“It seems while everyone around here is still getting their hands dirty with armed robberies and drug deals, you’ve upgraded.”

Sully’s grin widened. Surprise mingled with pride lit his features, and his stomach rumbled with a laugh.

“Seems like the Bates Hill Savior is more well connected than I thought,” he said. “And here I thought you only spent that fortune of yours on good deeds and photo shoots, not collecting rumors.”

“They’re not rumors if they’re true,” James pointed out.

Sully conceded to that with a shrug.

“I suppose not.” The humor once again began to fizzle out. “Though I’d love to meet the people who provided my name and contact information to you. But I suppose you’ll keep that to yourself.”

James nodded. “You suppose correctly.”

For a moment, James thought Sully would make it a point to find out the sources James had used to track the criminal. Sully might have taken his people off the streets and put them into offices, but that didn’t undercut his abilities. Especially when he was trying to get something he wanted. You didn’t get the nickname Butcher for no reason. However, he returned the picture to James and went back to the original topic.

“After the media released Lester’s name, everyone in my line of work researched him. Not to mention, after he shot that woman cop, the entire county full of law enforcement tore through who he used to be. What makes you think I can answer questions all of those people couldn’t? And why, for that matter, do you even care about what happened to Gardner Todd?”

James lowered his voice. Not to speak more quietly, but to convey what he said next was fact.

“Because I’d owe you one, and having a favor from James Callahan is gold in your particular line of work. The rest is none of your business.”

A pregnant silence followed. It was just for show. James knew the moment the word “favor” had left his mouth that Sully was hooked. He was, at heart, a businessman first and foremost. He traded in deals and favors.

“That’s quite the offer,” he said after a moment. “No strings attached?”

James held up two fingers. “More like conditions,” he said. “No one gets hurt or killed for this information.”

Sully snorted. “You apparently haven’t heard of my persuasive charm. Who needs brutality when you can just smile and get what you want?”

James fought the urge to roll his eyes and continued. “And you call this number when you get anything.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. “That’s a private number. Only I should answer it. Which means you and/or any of your associates shouldn’t feel the need to stop by the house. Sound good?”

He could tell Sully wasn’t a man who was used to adhering to conditions he didn’t set, but again, he was staring at the golden goose.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Callahan.” The conversation was finished. They both knew neither one had any more to say. It was just theater when Sully motioned to the door. “I’ll see what I can find.”

Together they walked through the kitchen—past the staff and workers who didn’t bat an eye—and to the back door that led into the employee parking lot. Queso stood next to the door, wearing slacks and a buttoned-up shirt that hung awkwardly off his thin frame. He zipped to attention as Sully neared, and James was reminded of being in boot camp back in the day. Respect and a little fear. The driving need to prove oneself.

James knew that need well.

“Take Mr. Callahan back to his car,” Sully greeted him, then narrowed his eyes at the young man. “And make sure you go the speed limit this time. We’re in small-town Alabama. Not street racing through the city trying to win a big score. The cops here won’t have a hard time getting to you if you’re blowing through the streets.”

A look of quick shame followed by embarrassment crossed Queso’s face. Sully cracked a grin. “Then again, I’m sure James here could sweet-talk his way out of it. Last I heard, he was on particularly good terms with law enforcement in these parts. Especially the sheriff’s department.”

This time James didn’t fight the urge. He rolled his eyes.

“I’d stick to the speed limit if I were you.”

Because even though he’d killed Lester McGibbon before he’d had the chance to send another bullet into Riker County’s chief deputy, James had spent the last four months learning the hard truth about Suzanne Simmons.

She didn’t like him.

Not one bit.

* * *

“NO, SIR.” SUZY looked the sheriff dead in the eye and shook her head again. “There’s no way I’m doing it.”

Billy Reed chuckled. Just like he often did when he thought Suzy was being unreasonable. He’d made the same sound when he’d suggested she liked Jonathan Flynn in the seventh grade and even had the same look when he’d tried to set her up with Rick Carmichael right out of college. There were many more examples throughout their nearly lifelong friendship, but those two came to mind. Or rather, how she’d felt about those two specifically. It was a feeling she associated with the name Billy was trying to attach her to now. She may have loved the sheriff like a brother, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think he’d lost his mind from time to time.

“I’m not asking you to date him,” Billy pointed out, most likely knowing where her thoughts had gone. “I’m asking you to represent the Riker County Sheriff’s Department at the town-hall social tonight.”

“The social being held at the James Callahan estate,” she interjected.