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Death stalks a cowboy’s growing family
Book two in the Midnight Pass, Texas miniseries
It’s a typical Texas night when Reese Grantham intends to drown her sorrows in a local bar. Her evening soon turns around, thanks to military operative turned rancher Hoyt Reynolds. Before she knows it, Reese is expecting a bundle of joy, but when she enters a killer’s crosshairs, there’s nothing Hoyt won’t do to save her and his child.
ADDISON FOX is a lifelong romance reader, addicted to happy-ever-afters. After discovering she found as much joy writing about romance as she did reading it, she’s never looked back. Addison lives in New York with an apartment full of books, a laptop that’s rarely out of sight and a wily beagle who keeps her running. You can find her at her home on the web at www.addisonfox.com or on Facebook (Facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).
Also By Addison Fox
Midnight Pass, Texas
The Cowboy’s Deadly Mission
Special Ops Cowboy
The Coltons of Red Ridge
Colton’s Deadly Engagement
The Coltons of Shadow Creek
Cold Case Colton
The Coltons of Texas
Colton’s Surprise Heir
Dangerous in Dallas
Silken Threats
Tempting Target
The Professional
The Royal Spy’s Redemption
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk
Special Ops Cowboy
Addison Fox
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09375-0
SPECIAL OPS COWBOY
© 2019 Frances Karkosak
Published in Great Britain 2019
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.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
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“Is the spider dangerous?”
“I know our biology teacher pretty well. Fred would know if the spider is dangerous or not, but I don’t think that it is.”
“I’m not sure waiting to be bitten is the way to find that out,” Hoyt said, his imagination already racing toward harm to Reese and the baby.
“Well, I wasn’t bitten. And we have a few at the high school. I’d hardly think the school board would appreciate having poisonous animals around the kids.”
The thought that the danger was likely minimal went some way toward calming his racing heart but he couldn’t quite banish the sense of menace that came with whatever had brought a spider to her front door. Texas was known for its wild creatures, and his cowboy boots were way more practical than they were for show, but it was the mysterious doorbell that kept gnawing at him.
Did someone deliberately do this to scare Reese?
And why?
* * *
We hope you enjoy the Midnight Pass, Texas miniseries
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to Midnight Pass, Texas. For those of you who visited this past August, you know that this small town, nestled along the banks of the Rio Grande, is home to one of the biggest cattle ranches in Texas—Reynolds Station.
Youngest brother and former special ops soldier Hoyt Reynolds is known for his stoic (read: grumpy) attitude. That doesn’t stop the whole town from swooning when he swaggers down Main Street in his jeans and boots. Nor has it stopped Reese Grantham from noticing Hoyt, well, pretty much her entire life.
She’s still struggling to get past her father’s suicide the prior spring, after his murderous ways were discovered, and Reese finds herself alone one night at the Border Line bar. That’s where Hoyt finds her, and he’s determined to take care of her and cheer her up if at all possible. Their evening turns into something more and, much to their mutual surprise, goes from a delicious memory to something even bigger—a baby.
When nameless, faceless threats endanger Reese, Hoyt knows he must protect the mother of his child at all costs. But will protecting her put him in the line of fire, as well?
I hope you enjoy Special Ops Cowboy and I look forward to sharing the stories of Hoyt’s other two siblings, Ace and Arden, in future books. In the meantime, if you want to begin with the first in the series, The Cowboy’s Deadly Mission is available now.
Best,
Addison Fox
In loving memory of Annette Deoria
1921–2018
I believe angels walk among us because of you.
Author’s Note
For those of you familiar with cattle ranching, you will note I’ve played with the time of year cattle are branded. As calves are typically branded around two to three months of age, branding season is normally wrapped up by May, not early August. I hope you’ll forgive the license I took in shifting the timeline to suit the story.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Dedication
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
About the Publisher
Chapter 1
Her mother had always said gossip was the devil’s work. That the idle prattle of small towns had no place in their lives. Of course, Reese Grantham thought reflectively, her mother had offered up those pearls of wisdom before her father had turned into the devil incarnate, doing far worse than some dismissive chatter over produce bins at the market.
Whatever disaster Serena Grantham had hoped to avert by diligently avoiding discussion of the misfortunes of others throughout her life had all been for naught.
That fact became abundantly clear to Reese two months earlier, when Russ Grantham was transported to the morgue due to a self-inflicted gunshot to the head. Officers from the precinct he’d served for thirty years had solemnly carried out the transfer. And it was only that self-inflicted gunshot that had kept those same officers from hauling him into the police station on murder charges stemming from Russ’s serial rampage killing drug dealers.
Some said Russ had snapped over the loss of his own son to drugs years before. Others whispered that it was bad blood, finally letting loose, hidden away all these years behind the noble facade of police captain. Still others—the ones who whispered in solemn tones—said it was a public service. Their small Texas border town, Midnight Pass, had been overrun by the drug trade and it was high time someone did something about it. So really, Reese acknowledged to herself as Tabasco Burns set down a beer and a whiskey chaser in front of her, what was a little gossip compared to all that?
“You sure you want this? I can still fix you a white wine spritzer like you usually order. Won’t charge you for this.” Tabasco waved a hand over the beer and whiskey, like a magician who could make it all go away.
Reese thought longingly of chardonnay but shook her head. She needed to forget and a watered-down glass of wine wasn’t going to get her where she needed to go. It was the very reason she’d come to The Border Line for the evening. “I’m good, but thanks.”
Tabasco looked about to argue but only nodded instead, his grizzled features going soft as he stared at her across the scarred bar. “I am glad to see you. It’s been too long.”
She nodded and reached for the beer, unable to acknowledge him with anything more for fear the lump in her throat would turn too swiftly to tears.
Tabasco took a few more beats to look at her before he moved on. He knew his customers well and had a keen sense for when they needed an open ear or a blind eye.
With the same determination that had her calling a car and heading to The Border Line bar on a hot summer Tuesday, Reese took a sip of her beer. No time like the present. She’d numb the pain while facing the gossip and maybe give half the damn town something to talk about other than her father’s crimes and subsequent suicide.
She was done with being the perfect daughter in a family that seemed functionally unable to be halfway normal. Or what she had left of one.
Even if that meant she now had a life she’d worked hard for, a job that she loved teaching high school English and a small house on the opposite end of town from her parents, decorated to her exact specifications and bearing the stamps of her own self-sufficiency. A lawn mown each week by her own hand. Address stamps that had no one’s name on them but hers. And a Christmas tree in her garage she’d put up the past two seasons all on her own.
Who knew it could feel so damn good to pay a mortgage each month?
And it did feel good. She wasn’t a woman who drowned her sorrows—she’d always found the mental fortitude to deal with what life tossed her way, reading, thinking of her students and their future, or finding new interests to explore—but for some reason the little whisper that tantalized her earlier that day, suggesting a night away from her cares was in order, had taken root.
With that thought in mind, she reached for her drinks. Although she preferred wine, the beer went down smooth enough, a cool respite from the heat outside and the perpetually ashy, bitter taste that had coated her tongue for the better part of two months. She’d nearly convinced herself the whiskey would be as good, only to shoot the glass and nearly fall off her barstool in a choking fit.
“Hey there.” A large hand covered her back while another steadied her arm. She jumped at the contact, even as a line of fire coated her throat, burning away anything that had been there.
Wide warm circles smoothed over her back and Reese accepted the gentle touch as one last racking cough shook her shoulders. The worst behind her, she lifted her gaze off the scarred wood and straight into the deep green eyes of Hoyt Reynolds.
Compelling, mysterious eyes, she thought, as their edges crinkled with a gentle smile. “You okay?”
“Sure.” Her voice was still strained from the coughing. “Wrong pipe.”
Hoyt’s gaze shifted to the empty shot glass. “Wrong drink, I’d say.”
Right drink, wrong drinker, her conscious taunted, but she kept it to herself, pushing bravado into her tone as her voice grew stronger. “It’s what I wanted. And I think I’ll have another.”
The smile faded, replaced with something she didn’t want to think about.
Pity.
She’d seen the same expression on the town’s faces more than once in her life and she refused to get comfortable with it. This was her battle to fight and her long walk to take. She would get through this.
And still, something inside of her persisted. If she could only understand the reasons for her father’s choices maybe she could push aside the awful well of sadness and anger and fury that came from the fact that Russ Grantham had thought it was acceptable to torture and kill others. Maybe she could push past the frustration that once again, her life had been thrown into chaos by the choices of her family and somehow, see her way past the wreckage.
Only she hadn’t seen past anything. Not for one single minute in all the minutes that had come since the day her father kidnapped Annabelle Granger, a fellow police officer, for getting too close to the truth. The fact that he’d ultimately done the right thing and let Belle go hadn’t mattered.
Nor had the gun he’d placed to his head.
In the blink of an eye, Reese was right back to those days in high school when all the effort in the world to do the right thing and get good grades and act perfect still couldn’t make up for her older brother’s drug addiction. When the sound of her mother’s crying could be heard late at night, muffled softly from the living room in their small ranch house at the edge of town. When her father’s stiff back and broad shoulders set beneath a uniform that bore captain’s bars still couldn’t keep Jamie Grantham out of trouble.
“You sure about that?” Hoyt asked, effectively cutting into her memories far better than her first shot.
“I am.”
Hoyt let out a long sigh before taking the empty seat next to her. “Then I can’t let you do it alone.”
“I don’t—” She broke off as Hoyt waved down Tabasco, circling his fingers in the signal for another round.
Undeterred by her protest and big enough that she knew he’d be immovable once he sat down, Reese took the opportunity to look at him instead. She knew Hoyt Reynolds—they’d grown up in the same town—but she’d never spent much time with him beyond an occasional night out with mutual friends or enough to say hi at town functions. He was a loner by nature and had a grumpy, affectionately surly personality that had become somewhat legendary in the Pass.
Even without her personal connection—her father’s last potential victim, Belle Granger, was engaged to Hoyt’s brother, Tate—she’d have known Hoyt anywhere.
Everyone knew the Reynolds boys. The trio—along with their sister, Arden—ran Reynolds Station, one of the largest working beef ranches in the state. They’d run free as young men, but all had quickly settled down after their father’s poor business practices had come to light about a decade before. Hoyt had been away in the service—marines, she thought—but had eventually come back, joining his family in the work of restoring the Reynolds name.
In the time since, the four of them had worked diligently to reclaim their role in the beef industry, all while carving a new path into the twenty-first century. They used sustainable practices, methods that were as humane as possible and focused on quality over quantity. She’d even taken a few of her high school classes to the ranch on field trips, pleased with the opportunity to both show off hardworking members of their town and help her students understand there were many paths available to them for their life’s work.
She’d heard more than one teenage girl sigh on those tours over the cowboys who worked the land, but few had garnered as many sighs as the stoic, grim-faced man who blended the best of bad boy with cowboy.
Which made the gentle eyes and insistence on keeping her company that much more surprising.
Hoyt didn’t do gentle. Or kind. Or congenial. He wasn’t nasty, per se. He was just aloof. Separate.
Alone.
Hoyt Reynolds kept to himself. He wasn’t a gossip and he wasn’t prone to nosing into anyone’s business.
Which, Reese figured, probably made him the perfect companion for her evening’s adventure.
* * *
Hoyt Reynolds ignored the small licks of attraction that sizzled through his nerve endings, willing himself to focus on the bigger picture. Reese Grantham might be a gorgeous companion over a few drinks, but she was clearly in pain and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that the way she was managing it wasn’t the brightest idea.
Russ Grantham had surprised them all when his sins came to light this past spring. Hoyt’s future sister-in-law had almost paid the biggest price, but something of the good man they’d all believed Russ to be must have finally shown through. Russ had let Belle go, taking his own life, and the secrets he’d buried deep along with him.
Hoyt didn’t spent much time in town, but he’d seen Reese a few times, once at the gas station filling up her car and another over produce at the market. She’d been too many bays over at the gas station for him to say anything, but he hadn’t missed the vacant look in her eyes or the emptiness that seemed to hover around her. A fact that was reinforced when he’d attempted conversation over the oranges.
She’d been polite and pleasant, but the wariness in her eyes was hard to miss. Whether it was from personal grief or their connection over Belle, he wasn’t sure, but she’d hightailed it out of there with her cart as soon as she could politely flee.
Which brought them here. The drink she’d already had seemed to suppress the flight instinct, but there was a determination in her hazel gaze that was unmistakable.
Which meant he’d keep an eye on her, prevent her from drinking too much and see that she got home safe and sound.
Tabasco caught his eye as he set down two more beers along with two more whiskey chasers. Hoyt didn’t miss the clear warning in the man’s gaze, or the equally clear directive to watch out for her, and he simply nodded as Tabasco cleared Reese’s empties.
He wasn’t a hound dog. He might find her attractive but he hadn’t done anything about it up to now; he sure as hell wasn’t going to take advantage of her at a weak moment. He wasn’t particularly successful at relationships—he preferred his own company and no one prying into his most personal thoughts—so he kept his dating out of the Pass and far away from local acquaintances.
But damn, she looked good.
Her hair fell in long dark waves down her back, the color a rich sable. She’d lost weight and was edging toward too skinny, but it didn’t diminish the round swells of her breasts beneath a sleeveless tank or the lush curve of her hips beneath her jeans. Although she was seated, he knew the long, long legs that currently ended in sexy flip-flops that bared purple-painted toenails were a spectacular sight, whether she wore one of her conservative dresses for teaching or a pair of shorts for a town picnic.
Purple polish?
He had no idea why he found that cute since he could care less about nail polish or the varied colors it came in. Yet, on Reese Grantham it looked good. Everything looked good on her, from the outfit tonight to the more severe choices she wore while teaching. She was pretty and sexy, in a way that wasn’t garish or overdone and...
And he’d do well to cut off that train before it got a head of steam.
No matter how good she looked, it couldn’t erase the sadness that lingered in her eyes or the light smudges that filled in the hollows below them.
Nor could it erase the fact that one of her father’s crimes had been committed on Reynolds land the prior spring. In the crime that had begun his descent into capture, Russ Grantham had killed his quarry at the edge of Reynolds property, seeking to make it look like a drug deal gone bad.
“What are you doing out on a Tuesday night?” Reese asked, reaching for her beer. The question was enough to jar him from the bleak direction of his thoughts and he reached out and hung on to it with both hands.
“I could ask you the same.”
“I asked first.”
She had a spine, something that had always intrigued him, and with a small nod, he answered her. “Figured I’d get a beer or two. Snag a few games of pool off anyone who was interested.”
“Please don’t let me stop you.”
Although he heard no hint of the bum’s rush, he couldn’t resist teasing her a bit. “You trying to get rid of me?”
“No!” Those pretty hazel eyes widened as if she realized what she’d said. “I didn’t mean you had to go away. I just meant you don’t have to babysit me.”
“Why’s it babysitting?”
“Because I can already see the good cowboy routine. The nod to Tabasco that you’ll take care of me. The whole you-can’t-drink-alone stance. You feel sorry for me.”
Although he knew she didn’t have kids, it struck him in that moment that she spent her professional life around children and had clearly developed that legendary second set of eyes in the back of her head.
“You saw that?”
“What?” She inclined her head toward the opposite end of the bar. “The manly eye contact with Tabasco, ensuring you’d get me home?”
“Yeah. That one.”
“Yes, I saw it.”
He nearly laughed at the prim tone and the way her hands folded on the bar in front of her second round of beer and whiskey chasers, but held back. She was amusing, but he wasn’t trying to make fun of her and for reasons he couldn’t quite define, he wasn’t sure she would understand the difference tonight.
Hell, he didn’t even understand it. He’d headed in because he was restless and tired of his own company. A state that had become increasingly consistent over the past year. He hadn’t felt this way in a while. The last time he could remember was his final year in special ops, when even three major wins, removing several terrorists in power hadn’t settled his thoughts of home and the help he knew his family needed on the ranch. Before that, it had been the decision to enlist, escaping the confines of that same family and the sense that the world was bigger—and needed more of him—than simply raising cattle.
Oh, how things had changed.
Which had all brought him here.
A mindless night out had seemed like a good idea. He wasn’t big on having his business spread around Midnight Pass like manure, so he hadn’t put seducing a woman on the list of activities for the evening, but he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge—only to himself—that he was enjoying her company.