Deadly Fall

New York Times bestselling author Elle James’s chilling romance brings together a billionaire and his beautiful bodyguard!

In a Gothic mansion on a windy coast, former soldier Dixie Reeves and her client, billionaire Andrew Stratford, are in grave danger. The single dad has hired her to help him protect his daughter from a mysterious threat. As their enemy closes in, even tough-as-nails Dixie has to hold her nerve...and keep her guard up to stop herself from falling for Andrew and his adorable little girl. The long nights pass, and Dixie and her handsome boss can’t deny they’re barreling toward the kind of love that changes lives. That is, if they can somehow keep their instant family safe from the danger at the door!

The deep, resonant tone of Mr. Stratford’s voice filled the room, making it seem smaller, more intimate.

The soft glow of the lamp on the nightstand brought them closer together. They probably looked like a family.

Dix jerked upright. She hadn’t come to Stratford’s mansion to become part of his family. She’d come to protect this family.

She glanced around, wondering where Leigha’s mother was and why she wasn’t there, taking care of her child.

Fontaine had told her she would be the bodyguard for the Stratford family. From what she could tell, that family consisted of two people. Father and daughter. And the daughter called her father Mr. Stratford.

Why?

As her father read, Leigha’s eyes closed. Dix backed away from the bed, her hand clenching around the damp cloth. Her goal was to leave the room and perform the search of the giant house for any weaknesses in entry and exit points.

She’d almost made it to the door when a little voice said, “Please don’t go.”

* * *

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Dear Reader,

With a heavy heart I wrote this book, knowing it was the last in the Devil’s Shroud series. I’ve grown to love Cape Churn and all the members of the Stealth Operations Specialists team who’ve made this little town their home. I’ll miss Sheriff Taggert and his wife, Nora, and sheriff’s deputy Gabe McGregor and his talented artist wife, Kayla. We won’t be going back to McGregor B and B to sample Mollie’s best clam chowder or sit on the porch with Creed and Emma, Nova, Jillian or any of the other characters we love as we stare out over the beautiful Pacific Ocean at sunset.

I hope you enjoy this last installment as we bring back Andrew Stratford, the eccentric billionaire, his daughter, Leigha, and the newest addition to the Stealth Operations Specialists: former army ranger and MMA fighter Dix Evans, as she finally finds a place to call home, a little girl to love and a man who has the patience and ability to help her through her own issues.

Enjoy discovering the secrets of Stratford House and the beautiful Oregon coast, and thank you for coming along for the ride!

Elle James

Deadly Fall

Elle James

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELLE JAMES, a New York Times bestselling author, started writing when her sister challenged her to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas). Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! Elle loves to hear from fans at ellejames@earthlink.net or ellejames.com.

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This book is dedicated to my readers, who buy my books and let me live the dream of writing full-time. Without you, I’d still be commuting to work wearing business clothes and tight shoes instead of working at my desk in my yoga pants, barefoot.

Also to my family, who puts up with my late-night writing, taking my laptop on vacations and letting the cooking and cleaning go when I’m on deadline. They know I’m working and try to get along without me.

I also dedicate this book to my little dogs who remind me to get out of my chair and take them outside. They keep me company during the day when I’m writing and are just happy to be with me. Okay! Okay! I’m getting up. Sheesh! You could at least have let me finish my dedication...

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

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

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Extract

Copyright

Chapter 1

“Leigha?” Andrew Stratford called out.

The old mansion had been quiet for too long.

“Leigha?” he said a little louder.

He glanced up from the computer terminal, having spent the last three hours day-trading, buying as the prices on several of the stocks he had his eye on dipped to an all-time low.

He’d made his fortune on Wall Street. Since the accident, he’d left it all behind and moved to Cape Churn, Oregon. Giving up the high-stress job of managing the fortunes of other people to only managing his own portfolio had been a decision he’d never regret.

Not that he’d had much of a choice. With the scars he’d acquired, his high-powered, beautiful clients would be less likely to come to entrust their money to him. So intent on being the wealthiest, most beautiful people money could buy, they wouldn’t have the courage to face a man with a wicked scar running from the base of his jaw up to his eye. The burn scars on his right hand would be a deal breaker in a society where a good handshake was a measure of a man’s character.

But the main reason he’d come back to Oregon was the reason he rose from his desk.

“Leigha,” he called out.

Now that he had a daughter to look after, he couldn’t live the fast-paced, late-night lifestyle he’d been living for the past ten years as one of the most eligible bachelors in New York City. And, frankly, he didn’t want to. He’d burned the candle at both ends with a high-powered job and a jet-setter lifestyle. Sure, he’d amassed a fortune, but what else did he have to show for it?

Andrew stretched. He needed to get up and move. His housekeeper, Mrs. Dottie Purdy, had ducked in an hour ago saying she needed to stock the pantry and Leigha preferred to stay and play.

Normally, Leigha played in the big mansion with Brewer, her black Labrador retriever. Andrew could count on the reassuring sound of little feet and canine toenails clicking across wooden floors. For the past fifteen minutes there had been nothing. No sounds, no squeals of delight or soft-spoken tea parties in the salon two doors down from Andrew’s office.

Silence used to be calming when he was a bachelor without a care in the world. Now that he had Leigha, silence was disconcerting.

The little girl was always into something. Though she was abnormally solemn, she was a natural-born explorer and adventurer. She reminded Andrew of himself at that age. His nanny had despaired of keeping up with him. Unfortunately, Stratford House perched on the edge of a three-hundred-foot cliff. If she wandered too far from the house, Leigha could fall to a very grisly death on the jagged rocks below.

On that thought, Andrew hurried from his office and out into the mansion’s huge entry hall. “Leigha!”

He listened, hoping to hear an answering call in the little girl’s high-pitched voice.

More silence greeted him.

The mansion had three living areas: a massive formal dining room, fifteen bedrooms and a full basement complete with a wine cellar. The child could be anywhere inside.

Andrew went room to room on the main floor and then stood at the base of the sweeping staircase. “Leigha!”

Again, no answering call.

Had she gone outside without telling him? Andrew’s pulse quickened. A glance through the window made his chest tighten. While he’d been busy working at his desk in the study, a cold, gray fog had crept in from the Pacific cloaking Cape Churn in what the locals called the Devil’s Shroud.

“Damn,” Andrew muttered and hurried for the door. If Leigha had gone out when it was clear, she might now be lost in the fog.

Andrew burst through the massive front door and ran out onto the marble portico. “Leigha! Brewer!”

A dog barked in the distance, the sound coming from the back of the house, farther along the coastline, sounding too near to the edge of the cliffs for Andrew’s comfort.

Andrew broke into a sprint, trying to remember just how many steps past the garden led to the cliff’s edge. He’d contracted a local handyman to erect a decorative wrought-iron fence, but he had to wait for the man to finish renovations on another home before he had time to start the work on the fence and other repairs around Stratford House. In the meantime, Andrew worried Leigha or guests might walk off the cliff in a dense fog, such as the one now hiding the treacherous shoreline.

“Leigha? Brewer?”

Again the dog barked.

Andrew slowed, knowing he was close to the edge of the cliff. He would be of no use to Leigha if he fell off. But the thought of the child being out there in the damp fog, her foot slipping on a wet rock, made him hurry as quickly as he could.

Andrew nearly walked into a tree trunk clinging to the ledge.

As he stepped around it, something moved. A shadowy figure detached from the tree and slammed into him.

Andrew’s forward momentum shifted sideways, sending him over the edge of the cliff. He dropped ten feet, hit a jutting boulder, his arms wind-milling the air, grasping at the fog for purchase to keep him from falling three hundred feet to the rocky shoreline. His hand tangled in a tree root. Closing his fingers around it, he held on. Damp with the mist, the root slid through his hand. He grabbed with his other hand and held on tightly. When his body fell below his hands, his arms felt as though they were being ripped out of their sockets. But he managed to arrest his downward plunge.

Andrew clung to the root, his breath caught in his throat as he held on, his hands wrapped around the root, his feet dangling in the air.

For a long moment he hung in midair, thankful for the stalwart tree and its tenacious hold on the rocky cliff. Then he raised his legs, kicking out his feet, searching for ground to dig his toes into. Using the tree roots, he inched his way up the side of the cliff until he was back where he’d started before he’d fallen over the edge.

Or rather, before he was pushed. No tree in the span of Andrew’s lifetime had ever managed to shove him over a cliff.

As he dragged himself up onto the path, he braced himself, prepared to fight for the ground he could stand on. Fog swirled around him but nothing jumped out.

Staggering to his feet, Andrew pressed on, more afraid than ever for Leigha.

Brewer barked again, closer to him and far too close to the cliff’s edge for Andrew’s liking.

“Mr. Stratford?” a tiny voice called out.

“Leigha?” Andrew’s heart pounded against his ribs and he strained to see through the thick fog.

“I’m here. I got lost,” she said, her voice wobbling.

“Stop,” Andrew ordered. “Stay right where you are. But keep talking to me so that I can find you.” Andrew moved forward, careful not to get too close to the ledge.

“I’m scared,” Leigha said, her voice thin and shaky.

The Labrador materialized out of the fog and walked toward him.

Holding on to the dog’s tail was the little girl Andrew obviously had no clue how to care for. He swept her up into his arms and hugged her tightly. “Thank God.”

Leigha wrapped her arms around his neck. “Brewer and I were playing with my friend. Then the clouds came in and I couldn’t see my way back home.”

“You have me now. I’ll make sure you get back,” he assured her.

“I held on to Brewer’s tail,” Leigha said. “He knows the way. He was leading me home when we found you.”

The big Lab leaned into his leg. His tongue lolled and his tail thumped against the hard ground.

Andrew glanced down at the dog. He’d never had a pet. As a child growing up in New York City, his parents refused to have an animal in their apartment. When he was old enough to make his own decisions, he got caught up in making a living, and then powered on to make a fortune. A pet didn’t have a place in his intensely busy life.

Now he stared down at the dog that seemed to be smiling up at him, daring him to smile back.

“Brewer is happy to see you,” Leigha said. She placed both of her small palms against Andrew’s cheeks and turned his face toward hers, undaunted by his scars. “Mr. Stratford, why are you bleeding?”

“I tripped and fell.” Andrew swept a damp strand of blond hair out of Leigha’s eyes, leaving a streak of blood across her forehead.

Leigha captured his hand. “You have a boo-boo on your hand, too. You need to go to the doctor.”

For the first time since his fall over the cliff, Andrew felt the pain of a cut on his hand. The way it was bleeding couldn’t be good.

“I’ll take care of it when we get back to the house,” he assured her.

Leigha leaned her head against his shoulder, her pretty little brow puckering. “Mr. Stratford, are you going to die?”

He snorted. “Not today, Leigha. Not today.”

“Tomorrow?” Her fingers curled into his shirt and held on as he walked in what he hoped was the direction of the mansion, his attention focused on sounds and any movement. Holding Leigha in his arms, he was doubly aware of his responsibilities toward the child.

Someone had pushed him over the cliff. But who? And why?

When Stratford House finally appeared in front of him, he sighed and hurried through the back entrance, into the large kitchen.

“There you are.” Mrs. Purdy stopped in the middle of unloading a bag of groceries and set the can in her hand on the counter. “What happened to you?” she cried. Grabbing a kitchen towel, she rushed over to him.

Andrew lowered Leigha to the ground in time for Mrs. Purdy to grab his hand.

“Good Lord, you look like you got into a fight,” the older woman said.

“It’s nothing,” he said, trying to calm his housekeeper.

“Nothing?” She frowned and led him by the hand to the kitchen sink. “That cut is deep enough it might require stitches. And I don’t know how they go about stitching over burn scars.”

“A bandage will do.” He let her drag his hand under running water and winced as pain shot up his arm. He jerked his hand back, but the woman stubbornly held on.

“You need to have a doctor look at this. I’ll wrap it up, but you’ll continue to bleed if you don’t have it stitched.”

“Please, Mr. Stratford. Please go to the doctor.” Leigha touched his arm and stared up at him. “I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m not going to die,” he insisted. “And I’m not going to bleed to death.”

Mrs. Purdy crossed her arms over her chest and stared him down. Then she tipped her head toward Leigha. “If not for yourself, do it for Leigha.”

Outnumbered, Andrew sighed. “Okay. I’ll let a doctor look at it. I’ll make an appointment for tomorrow.”

“Today,” Leigha said.

“We’ll go to the ER in Cape Churn.” Mrs. Purdy wrapped a clean kitchen towel around his hand. “I’ll drive.”

“I’m perfectly capable of driving myself to Cape Churn.”

“You’re bleeding like a stuck pig. You might get dizzy.” She held up her hand. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“I’m going with you.” Leigha clutched his sleeve.

“And I’m driving,” Mrs. Purdy insisted.

“Do I have a choice in this matter?” Andrew asked.

“No!” Mrs. Purdy and Leigha answered as one.

Thus outmaneuvered, Andrew found himself loaded into the passenger seat of Mrs. Purdy’s minivan and driven all the way to the Cape Churn Hospital emergency room.

Once inside, he was whisked back to an examination room. Mrs. Purdy and Leigha waited in the ER lobby. As the door closed between them, Andrew noted Leigha burying her face into Mrs. Purdy’s sleeve, her eyes clouding with tears. The child appeared terrified for him.

He had to admit, he was terrified for her. After nearly falling to his own death, he realized how easily it could have been Leigha. The thought of finding her body smashed against the boulders made him sick to his stomach. He sat on the edge of the hospital examination bed, pain throbbing through his hand with each beat of his heart.

A nurse carrying a clipboard stepped into the room. “Hi, Mr. Stratford. I’m Emma Jenkins. I’ll be your nurse. What brings you here today?” She set the clipboard on the bed beside him and took his injured hand in hers, unwrapping the dish towel. “How’d you get this cut?”

Andrew’s first instinct was to retract his scarred hand. Instead he stared at the gash. “I was pushed over a cliff.”

Emma blinked. “Say again? Someone pushed you over a cliff?”

He nodded, more certain than ever it hadn’t been a ghost or a blast of wind in the fog. “Someone pushed me over the cliff behind my house.”

“Do you want me to notify the sheriff? He can send a deputy out to take your statement while we stitch the wound.”

Though he didn’t like anyone invading his privacy, Andrew nodded. If someone had pushed him, he couldn’t ignore it. What if that someone tried to push Leigha? “I think that would be best.”

Emma waited until the doctor appeared before she slipped out to make that call. Within minutes, a sheriff’s deputy appeared.

“Hi, I’m Gabe McGregor. I believe we’ve met once before.”

Andrew nodded, his lips thinning. “You came to my house when you were looking for a murderer, several months ago.” They’d questioned him as a suspect. “I’m glad you caught him.”

“You and me both,” Gabe said. “I’m sorry I had to question you on that case.”

“Don’t be. I understand. I was the new guy in town.” Andrew gritted his teeth as the doctor stuck a needle in his hand to deaden the area around the cut.

“So tell me what happened.” Gabe pulled a notepad and pen out of his front pocket.

While the doctor and Emma cleaned and stitched the wound, Andrew recounted what had happened.

“And you didn’t see a face?” Deputy McGregor asked.

Andrew shook his head. “It happened so fast. I stepped around the tree, and the next thing I knew, I was clinging to a tree root, thankful for that tree and the root, or I wouldn’t be here to tell you the story.”

The deputy’s brows drew together. “I’m sorry it happened to you. I’ll follow you home and have a look around the area. Maybe there will be some footprints.”

“It’s not safe in the fog. Besides, the cliff edge is primarily rock and moss. That tree on the edge is the only one there. How it found enough soil to grow as big as it is still astounds me.”

“Any idea who might want to hurt you?” McGregor asked.

“No. And it’s got me concerned. I found a loose board on the outside step yesterday. At first I didn’t think anything of it. I just got out a hammer and fixed it. But when I did, I noticed the board wasn’t old or weatherworn. It looked like someone loosened it. I brushed it off as an overactive imagination. But after being shoved off a cliff, I’m rethinking it.”

“I knew your grandfather.” Emma used a wad of sterile gauze to sop up the excess blood from around the wound as the doctor sewed another stitch. “Though the ME ruled his death as accidental, I thought it pretty strange the old man who’d walked two or three miles a day, and had a healthy heart the last time I could get him in for a checkup, should fall over dead on one of his walks. The ME said his heart was fine. He’d died from the fall. Hit his head on a rock.”

Andrew leaned forward. “Are you saying someone murdered him?”

Emma raised both of her hands, wad of bloody cotton and all. “I’m not saying anything. Just the facts.”

“Look, all I know is I came to Cape Churn because I thought it would be a safer, quieter place to raise Leigha. I didn’t want her to grow up in the concrete jungle where I grew up. She deserves a place where she can run and play.” Not a park with a nanny and polluted air.

Andrew knew he was far from the father Leigha deserved, but he wanted her to have a normal childhood, where she could play outdoors, have a pet and be happy.

“Cape Churn can be all of that,” Emma said. “I’ve lived here all my life and love all the cape has to offer. The community is supportive and the summer activities are what most kids dream of. I’d love to teach Leigha how to scuba dive, when she’s a little older.”

Andrew’s heart warmed at the offer. “I want all of that for her, too.”

“I feel a ‘but’ coming,” Deputy McGregor said.

“But, after what happened today, I’m rethinking my decision to bring her here. After I nearly fell to my death, Leigha told me she and the dog were playing with her friend. A man. When I asked her about him, she said he’s been visiting her every day.”

Emma, the deputy and the doctor all frowned.

“Have you had a talk with Leigha about stranger danger?” the doctor asked.

“I have.” Andrew snorted. “She said he’s not a stranger. He’s her friend.”

The doctor completed the last stitch and held the strand out straight.

Emma used a pair of scissors to snip it close to the knot.

The doctor set his tools on the tray. “I’ll leave you in Emma’s capable hands. I have other patients I need to attend.” He peeled off his gloves and gave Andrew a stern glance. “Try not to fall off any more cliffs.”

After the doctor left, Emma cleaned the area around the wound. “Have you considered hiring protection?”

Andrew frowned. “I’ve never hired a bodyguard. Where would I start?”

Emma shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“What about the people Creed, Nicole and Nova work with?” Deputy McGregor asked. “Could they help?”

“Normally they work bigger issues,” Emma said. “You know, save-the-world kind of problems.” She glanced across Andrew’s head at the deputy. “But maybe they have someone who could help while Mr. Stratford goes through the interviewing and hiring process.” She turned her attention back to Andrew. “Do you want me to ask?”