A Texas Hero
Falling for her protector
For single mother Abby Bauman, a failed marriage and a troublesome ex are proof of love gone wrong. But once she’s caught up in danger and saved—twice—by take-charge detective Ethan James, she considers whether falling for a true-blue hero is worth the risk. Even now, after the rescue, he seems bent on continuing to protect her and her daughter. Why?
There’s more to Ethan’s determination to stay close than he’s telling her. But when she confronts him, he proves she’s more than a means to solve a case. That tempts Abby to take a second chance on trust—and love. Which might be the best choice she’s ever made.
“We’ve hit water,” Ethan said.
Abby sank to the ground. Even though she wanted to guzzle it, she sipped and sipped. Handing it to him, she sighed. “Heaven. Pure heaven.”
He eased down by her and sipped until the water was gone. “This is better than sex.”
“You think so?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “At this exact moment, yes.”
He filled the pitcher three times. The third time they didn’t drink much. Ethan poured the last bit over his head and water ran down his face and onto his chest. Droplets clung to swirls of dark chest hairs. Without thinking, without judging herself, she leaned over and licked the drops from his warm skin.
He stiffened. She didn’t stop.
“Abby.”
Her lips touched his. He groaned, cupped her face and kissed her like she’d never been kissed before.
Dear Reader,
I’m excited to start a new trilogy for Harlequin Superromance: Willow Creek, Texas. The stories are about three friends, Ethan, Carson and Levi, who grew up in the small town and one way or another find their way back to their roots.
Like most authors I’m often asked where I get my ideas. Everywhere is usually my answer, from TV to movies to the news and everyday life. In 2011, Texas suffered through the worst drought in its history. Lakes, stock tanks and creeks dried up. Ranchers had no grass so they either sold their cattle for next to nothing or had hay trucked in from other states.
It was a scary time as wildfires were rampant. One was not far from our house. We could see smoke billowing to the sky and I thought about the people who had to evacuate their homes, and how traumatic that must be for them. I prayed no one was trapped in the fire. Every day there seemed to be news of another fire, another evacuation. In the summer of 2011, the germ of an idea began. I would write about a wildfire, and the story for A Texas Hero was born.
Ethan and Abby are two complete strangers thrown together by extraordinary circumstances. The story is about surviving in tragedy and in love. I hope once you start reading you’ll be entertained to the very end.
With love and thanks,
Linda Warren
P.S. You can email me at Lw1508@aol.com or send me a message on Facebook (authorlindawarren) or Twitter (@texauthor). You can also write me at P.O. Box 5182, Bryan, TX 77805 or visit my website at www.lindawarren.net.
A Texas Hero
Linda Warren
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Warren is addicted to happy endings, and to get her fix she spends her days weaving happy-ever-after love stories for Harlequin. She’s a bestselling, two-time Rita®-nominated author and winner of the RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Award, the National Readers’ Choice Award, the Holt Medallion, the Booksellers’ Best Award, the Book Buyers Best Award and the Golden Quill, but her readers and their support are her greatest reward. You can reach her at www.lindawarren.net.
Books by Linda Warren
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1167—A BABY BY CHRISTMAS
1221—THE RIGHT WOMAN
1250—FORGOTTEN SON
1314—ALL ROADS LEAD TO TEXAS
1354—SON OF TEXAS
1375—THE BAD SON
1440—ADOPTED SON
1470—TEXAS BLUFF
1499—ALWAYS A MOTHER
1574—CAITLYN’S PRIZE *
1592—MADISON’S CHILDREN *
1610—SKYLAR’S OUTLAW *
1723—THE TEXAN’S SECRET**
1735—THE TEXAN’S BRIDE**
1747—THE TEXAN’S CHRISTMAS**
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
1042—THE CHRISTMAS CRADLE
1089—CHRISTMAS, TEXAS STYLE
“Merry Texmas”
1102—THE COWBOY’S RETURN
1151—ONCE A COWBOY
1226—TEXAS HEIR
1249—THE SHERIFF OF HORSESHOE, TEXAS
1333—HER CHRISTMAS HERO
1429—TOMAS: COWBOY HOMECOMING
*The Belles Of Texas
**The Hardin Boys
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank the many long-suffering people who answered my pesky questions about banks, robbery, wildfires, child custody, parental rights and police procedure. And especially to Melody for sharing her beautician skills. I learned something important while doing research: never ask a banker how to unlock the front door or open the vault. Not a good question to ask. All errors are strictly mine.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to the people of Texas who endured the drought of 2011. And to everyone who has dealt with the wrath of Mother Nature. God Bless.
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
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Epilogue
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
ABBY BAUMAN BELIEVED in real forever love.
Until she got married.
That’s when fantasy and reality collided like a chemistry experiment gone awry, stinking up the room and blowing out windows. That described her two-year marriage. It stunk. And blew all her dreams to hell.
Douglas Bauman, her ex-husband, did not know the meaning of the words forever and monogamy. Nor did he grasp the concept of the word divorce. After a year, he was still trying to weasel his way back into her life by manipulation, using their three-year-old daughter as leverage.
She swerved in and out of traffic like a Formula One driver, which she wasn’t. If she got one more ticket she wouldn’t be able to afford insurance. But thanks to her conniving ex, she was late.
Doug had Chloe every other weekend, and this was his weekend. As per his pattern, something had come up and he couldn’t pick up their daughter until noon. She told him to forget it and that she would be talking to her lawyer on Monday to change the custody agreement. Hanging up before he could respond gave her little satisfaction. Once again, she had to call her father to ask him to babysit, which took a strip off her pride because she did not get along with her stepmom, who was a Sue Sylvester of Glee double. Gayle shouldn’t be allowed around children.
Since Abby had to be at work at 8:15 a.m. and Doug had called at 7:15, she had few options. And it was
a Saturday. Her friends had other plans or liked to sleep in on the weekends. As did Gayle.
Her dad lived twenty-five minutes away in Barton Springs, while she lived near downtown Austin, Texas. She had to ask him to pick up Chloe because there was no other way if she was to make it to work on time. As usual, he agreed. He was a sweetheart. She just hated to cause friction in his marriage. But frantically looking for a babysitter would change once she spoke to her lawyer on Monday. She wasn’t putting up with any more of Doug’s crap.
The light ahead was yellow. She pressed on the gas, zooming through, hoping no cops were in sight. This wasn’t the first time Doug had bailed on keeping Chloe. It would be his last, though.
Her cell on the console buzzed and she pushed speaker phone. “Hi, Hol.”
“Hey, girl. You ready for tonight? Wear something low-cut and short.”
“I can’t go.” Since Doug had Chloe for the weekend, she and her friend had planned a girl’s night out. She’d known Holly all her life. They’d met in kindergarten.
“Don’t tell me he did it to you again?”
“Yes. I wish I had known you were up this early. I’d have dropped Chloe at your apartment. I had to call Dad again and you know how that goes.”
“Sorry. You need a better lawyer, that’s all. Someone who is not intimidated by the wealthy Baumans.”
“I was thinking the same thing. Since you’re a cop, maybe you can get me the name of a good lawyer just in case the one I have gives me any flak.”
“You bet.”
“Come over this afternoon and we’ll take Chloe swimming in the apartment complex pool. Bring your rubber duckie.”
“Oh, gee, I can hardly contain my excitement.”
“Damn!”
“What?”
“I missed my turn.” Without thinking, she slammed on the brakes. A loud thump followed that jarred her car.
“Damn!”
“What’s going on?”
“Someone just rear-ended me. I’ll call you later.” She jumped out into traffic to see a man inspecting the damage to the front of his truck. He turned to glare at her.
“Why the hell did you stop?”
The early-morning August sun beamed down on them, but more heat seemed to be emanating from the stranger, rolling off his tall, lean body in waves of controlled anger. And it was directed at her.
“I missed my turn and...”
“So you just stopped on a busy highway?” She could almost read stupid woman in his narrowed dark eyes. He flung a hand toward his truck. “You’re going to pay for this. This thing is new and you’ve scratched my bumper with your insane driving.”
“Your bumper? Look at my trunk!” She lost her cool for a second but she quickly corralled her rising temper. Glancing at her watch, she realized she had eight minutes to get to work. That put everything into perspective. She needed her job. “Follow me to that bank.” She pointed across the freeway. “I work there, and we can exchange information.” Turning on her heel, she marched to her car.
In her rearview mirror she saw the what-the-hell look on his etched-in-granite face. His dark hair was slicked back and wet as if he’d just gotten out of the shower or had an early-morning swim. He was dressed for the heat in cargo shorts, Crocs and a white T-shirt that had Don’t Mess With Me emblazoned on it. Yeah, she got the message. Jerk.
A slight clang echoed as she pulled away. She probably wouldn’t be able to open her trunk now and she’d have to ask her dad for help. She really needed to find a handy boyfriend, but these days she viewed most guys as jerks. Good guys were out there and she wasn’t giving up on finding one. But lately, that feeling of hope needed a resurrection. Maybe she could talk Holly into taking a mechanics class. Then she could fix her own vehicle. No man required.
She pulled into the parking lot of one of the branch convenient banks scattered across Austin. Mr. Harmon, the manager, pulled in beside her in his Buick. No sign of the big silver truck or the furious stranger. Had she lost him? That would be a stroke of luck, but luck was more inclined to slap her in the face.
“It’s going to be another scorcher today, Abby,” Mr. Harmon said as they walked to a side door. The man was in his sixties and after over thirty years in banking, he planned to retire in October and move to Florida to be near his daughter. He was easy to work for, and she would miss him.
“The weatherman said one hundred and two for the high today,” she replied.
“Oh, heavens. It’s a good thing we have air-conditioning.”
The silver truck pulled into the parking area and the stranger strolled toward them with long, sure strides. He exuded strength, power and control. From his sun-kissed skin to his amazing biceps, he was obviously a man of action and loved the outdoors. Or maybe he spent a lot of time in a gym and a tanning salon. Either way, the arrogant Neanderthal was not her type.
As the stranger approached, Mr. Harmon said, “I’m sorry, sir. Only the drive-through is available on Saturdays. It will be opened shortly and you...”
“Oh, sorry.” Abby hurried to explain. “I had a minor accident on the way here and I just needed to give him my insurance information.” She dug in her purse for her business card, found a pen and scribbled the info on the back. Handing him the card, she said, “Call me Monday and we’ll get everything straight.” And fix your itty-bitty scratch, she added as an afterthought in her head. She didn’t even want to think about her insurance rate going up.
He nodded and turned to walk away. The screech of tires drew their attention. A battered white van swerved into the lot and backed to the curb. The double doors flew open and two guys in Halloween masks holding handguns jumped out and ran to them.
“Open the door. Open the door!” they shouted.
A robbery!
Abby’s heart jackknifed into her throat. Mr. Harmon’s hand shook as he punched in the code and used his key to open the door. The robbers pushed them all inside.
The one wearing a gorilla mask pointed a gun at Mr. Harmon. “Open the vault. Now!”
Mr. Harmon’s fair skin turned even paler, but he managed to open the vault. The bank didn’t carry large amounts. Just enough to cash payroll checks, but it was probably more than the two would see in a lifetime.
The robber shoved Walmart bags at her. “Fill these up. Fast. And don’t push any alarms and no color bombs. You got it?”
Abby nodded, entered the vault and threw wrapped twenties into the bag. Her hands shook and she kept repeating what she’d learned in classes for just this type of situation. Stay calm. Do as asked. Do not risk your life.
The last one stuck in her mind as she pushed the silent alarm. It was hard to detect and she flicked her hand across it as she pulled out stacks of twenties. She handed the guy two bags and just then a siren wailed in the distance.
The gorilla-masked guy shoved a gun in her face. She trembled. “Did you push an alarm?”
“N-o, no. You watched me the whole time.”
He pressed the end of the barrel against her temple. The cold steel on her skin propelled rolls of shivers through her.
“If you did, bitch, it’ll be the last thing you do.” The odor of sweat mixed with marijuana clogged her nostrils.
“O-oh. Oh.” Mr. Harmon clutched his chest and crumpled to the floor.
“Mr. Harmon!” She fell down by him to see if he was okay. He was so still. She wasn’t sure he was breathing.
“Man, we gotta go,” the one with the clown mask shouted. “The cops are coming.”
The other robber grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. “We’ll take her as a hostage. If she set off the alarm, she’s gonna pay for it.”
“Let’s go! Let’s go!”
The guy dragged her out of the vault. She couldn’t think. Her mind was wrapped around a cold ball of fe
ar.
“Come on, man,” the stranger spoke up, cool as ice water. “She’s a woman. She’ll only slow you down. Take me.”
“C’mon,” the clown guy at the door yelled. “We’re losing time. The cops will be here any second.”
“We’re taking both of them,” the other robber decided, pushing them toward the door and to the van.
Never get into a van. Never get into a van. The warning ran through her mind and she dug in her heels. “I’m not getting in.”
The gorilla guy slapped her hard across the face and knocked her halfway into the van. The stranger jumped him but was stopped when the man shoved a gun into his ribs.
“Get her into the van,” the guy growled. “I’ll deal with you later.”
The stranger lifted her inside. He was gentle. That was the only thing that registered besides the sense of doom clogging her lungs. The doors slammed shut and they roared away onto the freeway.
The clown guy drove and the other one sat in the back with them. The van was dark. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust. A piece of dirty, stained carpet was on the floor and heat rose up from the hot highway, warming her backside. That was the least of her worries. Her jaw ached and she couldn’t think clearly. Chloe. Her precious baby. Would she ever see her again?
Suddenly, the siren was closer and the wail was deafening. “Lookie there, Rudy, it’s an ambulance. She didn’t alert the cops.”
“Shut up, you idiot. Now they know my name.”
“So? Dead people don’t talk.”
The stranger moved beside her. “Stay calm,” he whispered.
“What did you say to her?” Rudy demanded.
“It’s damn hot in here,” the stranger retorted. “Doesn’t this thing have air-conditioning?”
Rudy waved the gun. “Shut your trap.” He reached behind him and pulled out a roll of duct tape. “Tape his wrists together,” he said to her.
She didn’t move. The heat and gas fumes hampered her breathing.
“Now!” he screamed.
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