Czytaj książkę: «The Montana Hamiltons»
Protecting her life will mean betraying her trust
Ainsley Hamilton has always been the responsible one of the family. As the oldest daughter of presidential candidate Buckmaster Hamilton, she’s also a potential target. For months she’s sensed someone following her. When an expedition to scout locations for a commercial takes a terrifying turn, she’s rescued by a natural-born cowboy who tempts the good girl to finally let loose.
Sawyer Nash knows just how reckless it is to fall for someone he’s gone undercover to protect. Yet masquerading as an extra on set, he starts to see beneath Ainsley’s controlled facade. And with the election—and a killer—drawing closer, Sawyer stands to lose not just his job and his life but the woman for whom he’d gladly risk both.
Praise for New York Times bestselling author B.J. Daniels
“Crossing multiple genres, Daniels successfully combines Western romance, suspense and political intrigue with ease.”
—RT Book Reviews on Hard Rain
“The heartwarming romance gets wrapped up here, but the book ends with a cliff-hanger that is sure to have fans anxious for the next title in the series.”
—Library Journal on Lucky Shot
“Forget slow-simmering romance: the multiple story lines weaving in and out of Big Timber, Montana, mean the second Montana Hamiltons contemporary...is always at a rolling boil.”
—Publishers Weekly on Lone Rider
“[The Montana Hamiltons] should definitely be on the must read list... A great introduction for new readers to this amazing author.”
—Fresh Fiction on Wild Horses
“Truly amazing crime story for every amateur sleuth.”
—Fresh Fiction on Mercy
“Daniels is truly an expert at Western romantic suspense.”
—RT Book Reviews on Atonement
“Will keep readers on the edge of their chairs from beginning to end.”
—Booklist on Forsaken
“Action-packed and chock-full of suspense.”
—Under the Covers on Redemption
“Fans of Western romantic suspense will relish Daniels’ tale of clandestine love played out in a small town on the Great Plains.”
—Booklist on Unforgiven
Honor Bound
B.J. Daniels
MILLS & BOON
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With utmost appreciation I dedicate this last book in the series to my agent, Lisa Erbach Vance. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Praise
Title Page
Dedication
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
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Extract
Copyright
CHAPTER ONE
Election night
IT WAS THE old priest’s limp that caught Ainsley Hamilton’s attention as the presidential election results were announced over the loudspeaker. A deafening roar rose from the bundled-up crowd gathered at the fairgrounds outside Beartooth, Montana, that cold November night.
Her father, Buckmaster Hamilton, had just been announced the new president. Music began to play loudly as the throng cheered. She watched the priest, hunched over his cane, edging ever closer to the platform where her father would be giving his acceptance speech. Ice crystals danced in the night air against the backdrop of the Crazy Mountains. Millions of stars twinkled in the velvet blue of Montana’s big sky overhead. There was an excitement in the air as well, an electricity that had her feeling warm inside.
Ainsley’s heart surged. She was so proud of her father, so happy for him. This was his night. He’d worked hard to get here. She told herself that nothing could spoil it for him, especially her sister Kat’s concerns about security. The fairgrounds were crawling with Secret Service agents, sheriff’s department deputies and National Guard; even the sheriff himself was here.
Her gaze went again to the priest as he limped forward. The crowd parted for him, seeing his physical disabilities as well as his determination to get closer. When he finally reached the elevated platform where she was standing with her family, he leaned heavily on the cane as if trying to catch his breath. Like her, he must have wanted to be part of this history-making night.
Another roar erupted from those gathered as her father strode out onto the stage. He smiled and nodded, then turned to motion to his wife and six daughters. They had been waiting in the wings out of the cold for this moment. Ainsley looked at her sisters.
Bo smiled at her, so pregnant with her twins that she appeared to be wearing a small tent. The grown twins, Harper and Cassidy, were holding hands, both crying. Olivia was dabbing at her eyes, as well. It was clear that they had all been moved to tears, all except sister Kat, who looked nervous as their mother led the way across the stretch of red carpet to her waiting husband.
Out of the corner of her eye, Ainsley noticed that the old priest was straining to see. His limp looked painful, she thought as she saw him clutch his cane with both hands. She knew her interest in him was because of his limp. It reminded her of another man, a man she’d trusted her heart to recently only to have it broken.
As if she needed a limp to remind her of Sawyer Nash and what a fool she’d been. Thoughts of him were never more than a heartbeat away. Unconsciously, she ran a fingertip over the burn scar on her wrist, another reminder of Sawyer.
The crowd was roaring again as Sarah joined her husband, followed by one daughter after another. Ainsley fell back, letting her sisters go ahead of her. Too many emotions had her feeling vulnerable. She wasn’t ready to face all of these people right now.
As Kat started down the carpet to join their father, Ainsley had no choice but to join them. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this night was for her father, the first Montanan to be elected president. The excitement of the crowd filled her heart to bursting.
Standing on the platform next to her family, she smiled at her father through her tears. Her pride in him closed her throat as she tried not to cry with this many people watching.
Fortunately, the cameras—just like the Secret Service agents—were trained on the future president as he hugged each of them and then stepped to the microphone to make his acceptance speech. She and her five sisters and mother moved back toward the warm room again as he took his place to the applause of the massive crowd.
Buckmaster Hamilton had won by a landslide, and no one within four hundred miles wanted to miss this, even on such a cold night.
Ainsley had been making her way back, willing herself not to cry, when the priest looked up and their eyes met. Recognition made her stumble. She would have fallen if her mother hadn’t caught her arm.
But Ainsley hardly noticed. She was staring down into the priest’s face. He wasn’t as old as he had seemed when she’d first spotted him moving through the crowd, leaning so heavily on his cane. Even more shocking was that she knew him. A childhood memory surfaced in a wave of guilt because of the promise she’d been forced to keep all those years ago.
The man had been younger back then, but so had her mother. From her bedroom window, she’d watched the two of them out by the stables.
Ainsley, barely twelve, had seen at once that there was something wrong as the man had approached her mother. Her mother had taken a step back. Suddenly the man had grabbed her mother’s arm. Her mother had been struggling to get free of him. Ainsley hadn’t been able to hear them, but she could tell that they were arguing.
She’d rushed down the stairs and ran out to the cool shadows of the stables where they were standing. The man had seen her and quickly let go of her mother’s arm. She’d been close enough that she heard what he said to her mother.
“This isn’t over, Sarah.” Then he’d disappeared around the back of the building, but not before his gaze had bored into Ainsley. She’d known she would never forget those eyes. An electric blue that felt as if they had branded her.
“Who was that?” she’d demanded of her mother, recalling how he’d said her mother’s first name.
“No one.” Her mother had quickly wiped her eyes. “A stable hand. I had to fire him.”
“He hurt you!” Ainsley had cried, seeing where the man’s fingers had bit into her mother’s arm.
“I’m fine,” she’d said, pulling down her sleeve to hide it before she’d taken Ainsley’s shoulders in her trembling hands. “You can’t tell anyone about this, your sisters, especially your father. It will only upset him. I’ve taken care of it. The man won’t be back. Do you hear me? Promise you won’t ever tell.”
“But he said—”
“Please.”
It was the word please coming out almost as a sob that had made Ainsley make a promise she’d guiltily kept all these years. Weeks later her mother would drive her SUV into the Yellowstone River and be presumed dead when her body wasn’t recovered from the iced-over river. For twenty-two years her mother would be dead—until recently when she’d returned from the grave with no memory of where she’d been.
Now those electric-blue eyes from her childhood burned into hers for one startling instant before they shifted to where her mother was standing next to her after steadying Ainsley when she’d stumbled.
It happened in a split second. But felt like slow motion. The man’s hands twisted the top off the cane. Even when he raised what looked like a toy plastic pistol, she knew it was as real as her memory. Even as her mind argued that he would have had to go through security to get in here tonight, she knew he’d somehow avoided detection. Just as she knew he’d come here not to kill the new president—but the woman he’d argued with all those years ago.
As he raised the weapon, pointing it at her mother, Ainsley cried out. But her voice was lost in the roar of the crowd. All eyes, including those of the Secret Service agents, were on the president, not the old priest.
Ainsley didn’t remember pushing her mother aside to launch herself at the man holding the gun. She didn’t hear the weapon discharge. She hadn’t even been sure he’d fired until she felt the burning heat an instant before she crashed into him, taking them both down. She hit hard, heard screams around her and a struggle.
The cold November night and the canopy of stars seemed to move in and out. Her chest burned while the rest of her felt as if she were freezing. Sounds were indistinguishable. Above her she caught glimpses of faces. They seemed to sway in the breeze.
Arms came around her, and a male voice was saying, “She’s hit. Get an ambulance! Hurry! Ainsley, can you hear me? Stay with me, sweetheart.”
“Sawyer?” She blinked, thinking she must be hallucinating or dying, because then she heard Kitzie’s voice. “Sawyer! You’d better see this!”
Fading in and out, Ainsley heard the commotion around her as she was lifted into strong arms. She fought to bring the man’s face into focus, but the darkness closed in, and she dropped into it.
CHAPTER TWO
Days before
“HEY, COWBOY, I heard about that stunt you pulled. Chasing a killer on the top of a moving train? Who do you think you are? A modern-day John Wayne?”
Sawyer Nash chuckled into the phone, unconsciously rubbing his injured leg. “The chasing part wasn’t bad. It was the getting shot and falling off the train that bruised my ego.”
“Sounds like it bruised a lot more than that.” Sheriff Frank Curry grew solemn on the other end of the telephone line. “Seriously, how are you?”
“Bored. The doc says I can’t go back to work for a few months. They tried to saddle me with an office job, but you know me.”
“I do. You like to be where the action is.”
“Same could be said about you, Frank. How are you doing?”
A long silence filled the line, making Sawyer sit up straighter.
“I’m thinking about retiring after the election,” the sheriff said.
“Really? Have anything to do with who gets elected?”
“Not exactly. But that’s why I wanted to talk to you. As you know, our local rancher and senator, Buckmaster Hamilton, is the Republican candidate for president.”
“If this is about canvassing for his vote, he’s got it.”
Frank laughed. “No, it’s about his daughters. Well, one daughter in particular.”
“Oh?”
“I hear she’s in your part of the state. Her name is Ainsley Hamilton. She’s the oldest of the senator’s daughters. The other five are living around here now. Bottom line—I’m worried about her. Apparently there’s been some man following her off and on for months now.”
“A reporter?”
“I don’t think so. She was home for a visit recently and happened to mention it. She thought maybe her father had hired him to keep an eye on her. Buckmaster swears he didn’t, and I believe him. It just seems...odd.”
“You think it has something to do with her father’s run for president?”
“Seems likely.”
“She get a good look at this guy?”
“Apparently not. He wears a cowboy hat, keeps his distance, but according to her, he’s followed her from town to town.”
“What does this Hamilton daughter do that takes her from town to town?” Sawyer asked.
“She’s working as a scout for movie and television commercial locations in the state. I realize you’re not a hundred percent—”
“More like seventy-five to eighty.”
“So you wouldn’t be up to seeing if you could find out what’s going on?” Frank asked.
“As bored as I am? Are you kidding? Anyway, it sounds pretty cut-and-dried. I can check it out. If he’s tailing her, he shouldn’t be hard to spot. I could have a little talk with him.”
“I’ll email you everything you need to know to get started. Just send me the bill,” the sheriff said.
“Not a chance. I owe you. You’re the one who got me into law enforcement to begin with.”
“And look how that turned out.”
* * *
AINSLEY HAMILTON REINED in her horse to look back toward the mouth of the narrow canyon. Shielding her eyes from the glaring sun, she glanced past the walls of rock to the dark pine trees at the entrance.
The Montana sky was a cloudless blue overhead, the sun hot on her back, but there was a bite in the air reminding her it was almost November. Winter wouldn’t be far behind. But fortunately, this was her last contract finding locations for productions. She hadn’t even wanted to take this one, but Devon “Gun” Gunderson had made her an offer she’d felt she couldn’t refuse. It had been fun for a while, but dealing with directors was getting her down.
Gunderson turned out to be worse than most because he was a perfectionist. He kept changing locations so it was no surprise that the commercial had run over schedule. She’d never imagined it would take this long to shoot. She’d already been here for two days, and as far as she could tell, she would be here another two or three days, maybe longer.
The canyon ahead of her would make a beautiful spot to shoot one of the last scenes before the commercial for a pharmaceutical drug company wrapped. But she wasn’t sure she could convince Gunderson of it. While the others on his crew called him Gun, she couldn’t bring herself to because he seemed to like his nickname too much.
At a noise nearby, Ainsley turned. A few moments ago she’d heard what sounded like someone behind her. Listening, she heard only the wind high above the canyon walls. Turning back, she studied the opening in the walls of rock. Nothing moved.
Had she been followed from the old mountain resort? Gunderson had gotten accommodations for them, even though the place had already closed for the season.
But that didn’t mean that whoever had been following her for months wasn’t behind one of the trees or rocks in this very Western-looking part of the state watching her. She’d sensed someone watching her for so long, that this time she could be only imagining it.
But her instincts told her it wasn’t her imagination. Over the months, she’d often sensed the man’s presence. As she did now. It gave her an eerie vulnerable feeling she didn’t like. If only the man would show himself. She’d gladly confront him. But he was careful never to let her get a good look at him. All she’d gotten were glimpses of a shadowy figure wearing a dark-colored Western hat.
He also was careful never to appear when there were other people around. It was one reason she had mentioned it to only a few people. It made her sound unbalanced, since one moment he was there and the next he was gone as...as if he’d never existed.
It was enough to make a woman think she was losing her mind. Not Ainsley, though. She had too much common sense for that, she told herself and spurred her horse forward.
As she rode deeper in the canyon, she luxuriated in cool shadows that fell across her path. The day was getting warmer. But she knew from being born and raised in Montana that the weather could change in a heartbeat. That was one reason this commercial needed to be completed this week—before a storm blew in and snow began to fall and they all got stranded back in here.
The canyon was as lovely as she’d heard it was. One of the local girls hired to work in the kitchen had suggested it. With the sheer rock walls, a few scrub pines and the spring at the end of the canyon, it looked as Western as any part of Montana. Now all she had to do was talk Gunderson into taking a look.
Ainsley rolled her eyes thinking of the conversation she would have with him when she returned. Ahead, she could see where the box canyon ended in a wall of rock. Only one way out of here. Back the way she’d come.
She led her horse over to the rocks where a warm spring bubbled up. It was beautiful here, perfect. Gunderson would be a fool not to consider it. She groaned at even the thought of having to deal with him today. Just a few more days, she told herself. Then what?
The original company that hired her had another film crew wanting someone to scout locations for some winter scenes, but she’d declined the offer. She had to be home for election night. Her father wanted his family with him. She couldn’t help being excited for him. Of course he would win.
Then maybe whoever had been following her from town to town would quit shadowing her every move. At first she’d thought the man had to be a reporter. And yet he’d never tried to talk to her. If only she’d gotten a good look at his face. With a shiver, she reminded herself that he could be anyone, and she wouldn’t know it.
“Can you give me any kind of description?” the sheriff had asked after her father had insisted she talk to him.
“That’s just it. I can’t. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I was imagining him. I’ll be somewhere, and I sense him watching me. I turn and catch movement as he drops back out of sight in a group of people or hidden in the darkness. One time I ran after him—”
“That’s a bad idea,” Frank had said.
Ainsley had laughed. “Tell me about it. I hadn’t gotten very far, when I came to my senses. I don’t think he’s dangerous, though. I almost feel like he thinks he needs to keep an eye on me. I know that sounds crazy.”
“No, it doesn’t. Have you seen him recently?” the sheriff had asked.
“A few days ago when I was in town, but now I’m staying out in the mountains at this closed resort.”
“At least there you should be safe.”
But she didn’t feel safe, she thought. Especially today when, unless she really was losing her mind, she sensed he had followed her into the canyon.
Her horse’s ears went up at the sound of the clatter of rocks underfoot was carried on the wind. She rubbed her horse’s neck as she looked back down the canyon. There were too many twists and turns for her to see very far.
“You heard it, too, didn’t you?” she whispered to the horse. “I wasn’t wrong. We aren’t alone, are we?”
Another clatter of rocks echoed through the canyon. Her horse’s head came up as the mare let out a whinny.
She’d definitely been followed. But this time, she was ready for him.
* * *
NEAR THE END of the mountain road, Sawyer rounded a curve, and the resort came into view. The huge old stone hotel looked abandoned, but behind it, he spotted a scattering of small equally old log cabins set against the mountainside. There were vehicles parked in front of all but one.
He’d stopped in town to get directions to the isolated resort. A woman at the general store had told him that the resort was closed, but some movie types were staying up there shooting commercials.
“At least that’s what they said they were doing,” she told him suspiciously. “I doubt any of theirs will be airing during the Super Bowl, from what I heard from the locals who got hired.” She’d eyed him openly. “You looking for work?”
“I heard the place is for sale,” he said noncommittally.
“It is. You thinking about buying it?”
He’d only smiled and thanked her for the directions.
Now, to the right of the hotel he saw a wide meadow where it appeared a carnival had been erected. None of the rides were moving, though, and he didn’t see anyone around. The rides had taken on an almost ghostly look out in the meadow so far from civilization. Strange, he thought as he drove on in.
There was only one car parked in front of the hotel. As he pulled up, he saw the license plate read: MURPH. As he got out of his pickup, a nondescript dark-haired man came out of the hotel. He had on a tan uniform shirt that read Security. He eyed Sawyer but said nothing.
Sawyer tipped his Stetson and limped up the stairs to the wide porch. The view of the mountain peaks surrounding the place was incredible. He couldn’t help taking in the breathtaking beauty of the area as he opened the huge, weathered wooden front door and stepped inside.
It was cool and dim in the old lobby. At one time, no expense had been spared to maintain this landmark hotel. But that was years ago. Times and tastes had changed. The carpet was as worn as the marble floors. He called out a tentative, “Hello?”
“In here,” came a female voice from a room off the lobby.
As he headed in that direction, he debated how to handle this. The door was slightly ajar. He tapped on it.
“It’s open,” called the female voice from inside. “Don’t be shy.”
He stuck his head in the doorway to see a woman sitting at a desk, her head down as she scribbled something on a scratch pad. “I’m looking for—”
“You’ve found her,” the woman said without glancing up. “Come on in.”
As he stepped in, she looked up and gave him an appraising once-over. “Not bad. Not bad at all.” She motioned in a circle with her hand. When he didn’t move, she said, “Turn. Let’s see your backside.”
“Pardon me?”
“Don’t pretend to be shy with me. I’ve seen more than my share. Turn around.”
Sawyer did as ordered, chuckling to himself as he heard her let out a low whistle. What kind of commercials were they making up here anyway?
“Yep, you’ll do,” she said, getting to her feet. “Wait a minute. Are you limping?” Before he could speak, she said, “You can ride, though, right?”
“I assume you’re referring to a horse?”
She smiled and jammed her hands down on her abundant hips. “Cowboys,” she muttered under her breath as she sat back down. “You’re the best I’ve seen today. Just tell me if you can ride for long shots.” She was eyeing him as she talked. “You could also stand in for a carnie once they get the rides going. Yep, I’m betting they’ll want you for a couple of days.” She turned toward a board with keys on it. “You’re in luck. We have one cabin left since the hotel is closed. So I’m assuming you wouldn’t have driven all the way up here unless you could stick around for a few days?”
He started to correct her, to tell her that he hadn’t come here looking for a part in whatever she was shooting. But instead, he heard himself say, “I can ride, and I can stay for a while.”
“Great. Fill out this form and be back here by seven in the morning.” When he didn’t interrupt, she continued. “Here.” She slid a cabin key across the desk at him. It was connected to a piece of wood with the number eleven burned into it. “There’s food in the hotel kitchen 24/7 when we’re shooting. You can dress just like you are. But if you feel you need wardrobe—”
“No.” He’d play along but would draw the line at being duded out. “I didn’t see any horses on the way in. Where do I—”
“Just go back out the front door and follow the smell. Ted will assign you a horse and saddle.” With that she waved him out as her phone rang, and she quickly picked it up with a—
“Hey, that better be you calling to tell me you have what I need for tomorrow.”
As he left, he hoped Ted would know where he could find Ainsley Hamilton.
* * *
AINSLEY TIED HER horse’s reins to a tree limb and pulled the pistol from her saddlebag. She’d taken it from her father’s gun safe before she’d left home the last time. She hadn’t told him, not wanting to worry him. He wouldn’t miss it, and she’d been afraid she might need it. He’d taught her and her five sisters to shoot at an early age, so a gun felt just fine in her hands.
“I don’t want you to be afraid of guns, but also I want you to have respect for them,” Buckmaster had said. She and her sisters had become quite adept at target practice since they were all fairly competitive.
The problem was the difference between a paper target—and a person. It was a person who’d followed her. Someone on horseback? If so, that would mean he’d gotten one of the horses being used for the commercial shoot.
And if she was right, he’d followed her, knowing that she was trapped in the box canyon with no way out if he decided to take this opportunity to finally confront her.
Show your face. The way he kept hidden added to her growing anxiety about the man. What did he want? Maybe she was about to find out.
She snapped off the safety, telling herself she wouldn’t kill him—just wound him. Unless he was armed. That thought sent her heart pumping. He finally had her entirely alone. Was that what he’d been waiting for?
The sound of rock on rock. Gun raised, Ainsley moved through the narrowest part of the canyon and stopped to listen. She could almost hear him breathing; he felt that close.
* * *
TED WAS A young cowboy, skinny and tall with a shock of red hair and ever-present sunburn. He gave Sawyer a nice-looking roan and a saddle and told him he lived on a ranch not far away. It was clear that he was excited to be providing horses for a TV commercial.
“A friend of mine works up here. Ainsley Hamilton? Do you know where I might find her?” Sawyer asked.
Ted nodded and smiled, before pointing off to a wide open meadow and a stone cliff behind it. “She took off toward Box Canyon about twenty minutes ago. You could probably catch up to her. Wouldn’t hurt to get some saddle time in before you have to go before the camera, I would imagine,” he said.
“I’d appreciate that,” Sawyer said and saddled up. Riding past the still and silent carnival, he headed for the canyon. The day was quite warm now for the end of October. The leaves on the aspen trees in the meadow hadn’t fallen yet. Sun-dappled, they shimmered red, orange and gold in the breeze. Past them, the pines were a dark cool green at the mouth of the canyon.
The moment he rode into the ponderosa pines, the temperature dropped. The sheer rock walls cast the canyon in shadow. Sawyer noticed what appeared to be an old creek bed winding its way out of the canyon. He could see Ainsley’s horse’s tracks in the dirt.
Reining in, he swung out of the saddle. He’d decided to walk into the canyon, rather than ride, to give him time to consider how he would handle this. Normally he preferred the truth.
But he’d gotten the feeling from Frank that he was dealing with an independent woman who might resent him butting into her business. Also, she didn’t know him from Adam. He figured it might make her less self-conscious if she thought he was just an extra hired on for the commercial. He might be able to find out who was following her, take care of the matter, and Ainsley would never have to be the wiser.
The commercial was supposed to wrap in a few days, according to Ted. Sawyer figured he’d be able to find the man tailing Ainsley long before that.
Tying up the horse at the opening of the canyon, he ventured in. As he came around the corner between the two rock cliffs, he heard something and drew up short. Standing just yards ahead was a young blonde woman dressed in jeans, boots and a blue-checked Western shirt, holding a gun on him.
