Guardian of Her Heart

She didn’t recall falling to her knees, but that was where she was, gasping, when Travis found her. Only then did she notice the blood on her hand.

“I’m all right,” she managed, her throat aching. “I got free. I scratched Farley’s face.”

“Farley? He was here?”

Before she could respond, she was lifted to her feet, but the wobbliness of her legs didn’t matter, for Travis pulled her firmly against his chest. This time she didn’t mind being held tightly by a man.

This time it was Travis.

“You’re okay?” he murmured softly into her hair.

“He tried to choke me. Why now? He could have killed me before, if he’d wanted to.”

She gave a small cry of protest as Travis pulled back to inspect her. Very gently, his fingers touched her throat.

“Damn him,” he said. “I swear, you’re not leaving my sight. Ever again.” The steely look on Travis’s face made it clear he meant it. She had the sudden feeling Travis would risk his very soul to make sure Farley got what he deserved.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

We’ve got an intoxicating lineup crackling with passion and peril that’s guaranteed to lure you to Harlequin Intrigue this month!

Danger and desire abound in As Darkness Fell—the first of two installments in Joanna Wayne’s HIDDEN PASSIONS: Full Moon Madness companion series. In this stark, seductive tale, a rugged detective will go to extreme lengths to safeguard a feisty reporter who is the object of a killer’s obsession. Then temptation and terror go hand in hand in Lone Rider Bodyguard when Harper Allen launches her brand-new miniseries, MEN OF THE DOUBLE B RANCH.

Will revenge give way to sweet salvation in Undercover Avenger by Rita Herron? Find out in the ongoing NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. If you’re searching high and low for a thrilling romantic suspense tale that will also satisfy your craving for adventure—you’ll be positively riveted by Bounty Hunter Ransom from Kara Lennox’s CODE OF THE COBRA.

Just when you thought it was safe to sleep with the lights off…Guardian of her Heart by Linda O. Johnston—the latest offering in our BACHELORS AT LARGE promotion—will send shivers down your spine. And don’t let down your guard quite yet. Lisa Childs caps off a month of spine-tingling suspense with a gripping thriller about a madman bent on revenge in Bridal Reconnaissance. You won’t want to miss this unforgettable debut of our new DEAD BOLT promotion.

Here’s hoping these smoldering Harlequin Intrigue novels will inspire some romantic dreams of your own this Valentine’s Day!

Enjoy,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Guardian of Her Heart

Linda O. Johnston

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda O. Johnston’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for “Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year.” Now, several published short stories and novels later, Linda is recognized for her outstanding work in the romance genre.

A practicing attorney, Linda juggles her busy schedule between mornings of writing briefs, contracts and other legalese, and afternoons of creating memorable tales of the paranormal, time travel, mystery, contemporary and romantic suspense. Armed with an undergraduate degree in journalism with an advertising emphasis from Pennsylvania State University, Linda began her versatile writing career running a small newspaper, then working in advertising and public relations, later obtaining her J.D. degree from Duquesne University School of Law in Pittsburgh.

Linda belongs to Sisters in Crime and is actively involved with Romance Writers of America, participating in the Los Angeles, Orange County and Western Pennsylvania chapters. She lives near Universal Studios, Hollywood, with her husband, two sons and two cavalier King Charles spaniels.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Dianna Englander—She misses her murdered husband, but will never again allow so domineering a man into her life.

Travis Bronson—The undercover cop got distracted on his last case by caring too much, and the civilian he was protecting got killed. He has vowed that won’t happen again.

Glen Farley—He learned the sweetness of revenge by murdering Dianna’s powerful politician husband—the first of many. But why is he tormenting Dianna again?

Julie Alberts—The adolescent’s mother died in an accident last year, and she has grown close to her “aunt” Dianna.

Jeremy Alberts—Julie’s father and one of Dianna’s bosses, he wants more from Dianna than her excellent work managing the dispute resolution center named for her deceased husband.

Wally Sellers—Jeremy’s partner is eager to obtain publicity for the Englander Dispute Resolution Center. Too eager?

Bill Hultman—The restauranteur would do nearly anything to increase business.

My thanks to the wonderful men and women

of the Los Angeles Police Department,

especially those who were so kind in answering my

questions and giving me a tour of the Van Nuys station

for this book. I admit to modifications and exaggerations

in the interests of my story.

My thanks also to my wonderful man, Fred.

Contents

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

Prologue

Dianna Englander drew in her breath so sharply that it sounded like a muffled scream.

There. Behind the green minivan, several rows away in the parking garage, stood a familiar figure. Again.

He was too far off for her to see him clearly, but she felt him grinning at her.

She stood, trembling, beside her red sports car in its assigned parking space. She gripped the handle of the driver’s door. Moisture flooded her eyes and spilled over—tears of fury. Of frustration.

Of anguish.

She’d known she hadn’t been hallucinating the first time she’d seen him, a week earlier.

After all this time, he had come after her. Here.

Oh, she hadn’t been hard to find after all the hype about the opening of the Englander Dispute Resolution Center almost exactly a year ago.

The Center had been named after her husband Brad—dead, thanks to the man who stood just a few yards away. Murdered by that monster.

And so was the precious baby created by Brad and her, who had died before ever being born…

“Damn you, Glen Farley.” Dianna’s voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed in her mind. Damn you…damn you.

But she was the one who had been damned.

Knowing how foolish it was, she took a step toward the evil creature who had ruined her family. He raised his hand as if waving to her and walked beyond the minivan and into the next row of parked vehicles.

“Stop!” She hadn’t intended to cry out, but the shout filled the air.

She heard soft voices behind her and turned. A woman with a couple of kids approached a sedan a few cars away, looking nervous as she hastily shepherded the children inside.

Dianna pasted a small smile on her face that she intended to be reassuring. But judging by the way the woman slammed her car door shut and quickly started the engine, Dianna knew she looked as distraught as she felt.

As the car pulled away, she returned her attention to where she had seen Farley.

He wasn’t there.

She realized then how fast she was breathing. Inhaling the ugly odor of exhaust fumes, here in the indoor parking garage.

She yanked at her purse until its strap jerked off her shoulder. She fumbled with the zipper till it opened and dug for her cell phone. Call 9-1-1, the rational part of her mind instructed.

“Hey, Dianna,” said a soft female voice behind her. Dianna pivoted. Eleven-year-old Julie Alberts stood near her father Jeremy’s black luxury sedan in its space two over from Dianna’s. Julie’s brown eyes, luminous even in the dim parking garage light, widened. Tendrils of brown hair that had escaped from the barrette at the back of her neck framed her gamine face in coiled wisps. “Are you okay?” she asked.

No! Dianna wanted to scream. But she didn’t want to frighten Julie. “I’m fine, honey. I was just leaving. Get in my car and come with me, okay?” She slipped her phone back into her purse. What good would the police do now?

“But my dad’s supposed to meet me here to drive me home.”

But Farley was here. Farley killed people.

They had to leave, all of them.

“We’ll pick him up at the elevator,” Dianna said. “Let’s go. Now.”

Julie didn’t move. She looked scared. “Dianna, what’s wrong?”

Before she could answer, Jeremy Alberts appeared near the doorway from the elevator. “There he is.” Dianna motioned to him to come quickly, then hesitated. Was it better to flee through the garage or drive out? Before she made up her mind, Jeremy joined them. “What’s wrong?” he demanded, parroting his daughter’s words. He gave Dianna an odd look.

Her emotions were clearly showing.

“Did you see—?” He didn’t finish, but the question remained written in the furrow of his shaggy salt-and-pepper brows.

He didn’t have to say more.

Dianna had filled him in the first time. Fortunately, he had believed her. Had acted appropriately.

But all his security measures hadn’t stopped Farley from returning.

“We’ll fix it, Dianna,” he said in a gruffly reassuring voice. “Don’t worry.”

“We need to get out of here,” Dianna told him. “Now.”

“Yes,” he agreed, hurrying Julie to his car.

Dianna tried to watch everywhere at once. There were no other cars driving around, no further sign of Farley. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t still here. Or that he hadn’t rigged up something harmful.

“What’s going on?” Dianna heard Julie insist before the car door closed behind her.

Dianna got into her own vehicle. Her hands trembled as she clutched the steering wheel, and she watched all around as she let Jeremy’s car lead the way down the ramp, get out first.

If Glen Farley hurt someone else, it shouldn’t be the Alberts.

Or her. Or anyone.

It had been more than a year since he’d stopped stalking her…before.

Why was he here? Oh, Lord, why was he here?

Chapter One

“Why is it that you’re always hungry after school?” Dianna gave Julie’s shoulders a hug as the elevator door opened onto the vast, architecturally dynamic lobby of the Englander Dispute Resolution Center. The building was modern, yet, with its arched windows, high ceilings and sparkling chandeliers, its feel was old-world grand.

The heels of Dianna’s navy pumps clicked on the marble floors. The shoes matched her linen suit—short-skirted, professional but comfortable in the Los Angeles winter. Dianna, from the east, still couldn’t get used to how warm it was this time of year. She had even cut her blond hair into a soft, slick pageboy parted in the middle, rather than keeping it long as she had once worn it.

Or maybe she’d needed to change everything about her life….

“Being bored at school starves me,” the child replied to Dianna’s question, looking up with a huge, adult-charming grin that displayed slightly crooked front teeth.

She kept grinning even as, on their way to the door outside, Dianna and she passed by the security guards screening people who entered.

Dianna kept grinning, too—but hers was forced.

She had Jeremy, Julie’s father, to thank for the extra security in the building. Of course, since this was part of the Van Nuys, California, civic center, security screening was a way of life. The area housed all sorts of government office buildings: federal, state and municipal. And courthouses. And post offices. And other structures that could attract unsavory people with mayhem on their minds.

Like Glen Farley.

But these dark-uniformed, brusque security guys were new. Efficient, thorough and even unnerving, they had come highly recommended, Jeremy had said, by some law enforcement hotshots he trusted. He had hired them as a result of Dianna’s spotting Farley the first time. He hadn’t seen the horrible man. Neither had Julie. But thank heavens Jeremy had taken her word for it. She had nearly given up hoping for people to believe her.

She certainly hadn’t bothered notifying the feds hunting for Farley since Brad’s murder, either about the first time she saw Farley here or the second. During those initial horrendous months after her husband’s death, she had seen Farley several times, hanging around. Taunting her. She’d reported it then. But the agents on the case had evidence that Farley had fled the area —evidence they apparently found more credible than her fearful and emotional phone calls. Though they claimed to have checked, they’d found no sign of him.

The last times she called, she doubted they’d looked at all.

That was one of many reasons she had left Washington.

“Hey, look,” Julie said, drawing Dianna out of her disturbing thoughts. She pointed her index finger, its nail chewed to an irregular edge, toward a pushcart on the paved plaza outside the Center.

One day, Dianna would have to introduce the girl she thought of as her surrogate niece to the pleasures of nail polish—clear or light pink, for a preteen. Maybe then she wouldn’t gnaw on her nails.

Julie didn’t have a mother to teach her such things.

“What’s that guy doing?” Julie grabbed Dianna’s elbow and pulled her toward the elaborately decorated cart. A sign on its surface proclaimed that it sold “Fare to keep you awake and alive.” Below was a list of food, drinks and prices: mochas, lattes and all imaginable coffee creations, sweet rolls, and cold gourmet sandwiches.

Dianna hadn’t thought she was hungry, but her stomach grumbled.

What was that guy doing?

A man in a white T-shirt with a red Cart à la Carte logo in the middle stood right beside the pushcart. His hands were in motion—a good thing, too, for he was juggling knives. And not wimpy butter knives, but steak knives with wicked-looking serrations. He wasn’t tossing them high, but they flew end-over-end as he flawlessly caught and tossed them in his obviously skilled, large hands. The motion of his arms emphasized the breadth of substantial biceps and tautened his shirt against his equally broad and muscular chest.

“Wow,” said Julie in an awed voice beside Dianna. I’ll second that, Dianna thought, though for different reasons than Julie. The guy was definitely sexy.

Not that she was into guys these days, let alone sex. It was okay to admire a good-looking man from afar, but that was definitely all.

This guy’s hair was sandy brown, cut short, almost military style. He was barely even looking at the dangerous utensils that twisted and soared under his control. His cobalt-blue eyes appeared to be fixed on Dianna.

And when she caught his glance, one corner of his wide, straight mouth curved slightly upward in acknowledgment.

She had seen him before.

Where?

He stopped juggling, catching the knives and setting them down on the cart. “Can I help you?” he said. “How about an albacore tuna sandwich for the young lady, and an espresso for her lovely companion?”

The guy’s tongue was as flawless as his juggling. As he’d stressed the word young, Dianna had been certain he would refer to her as the “older lady,” but instead he had complimented her.

She recalled suddenly where she had seen him before: in the reception area of the A-S Development offices, where Dianna managed the dispute resolution center named for her husband.

The Englander Center was an experiment that held great promise, and A-S Development, which had constructed it, also was responsible to ensure its use.

In this area abounding with courts and litigants, the idea was to encourage people to save time and money by paying mediators to help them resolve disputes amicably. Or, if they couldn’t, they could hire “rent-a-judges”—real, retired judges who held realistic trials in the Center’s own model courtrooms.

So far, the experiment was a success. The law offices within the Center were completely rented, and Dianna had no problem filling the conference and courtrooms nearly constantly.

So many people were undoubtedly a good market for food vendors. And that was where Dianna had seen the gorgeous hunk of a juggler before: that morning, in her office, peddling food.

“Would you like a sandwich here, Julie?” she asked the girl. “Or would you like to go to one of the other carts along the promenade?”

“Oh, but you have to stay here,” the man told them. “It’s in the cards.” Dianna couldn’t figure out where he could have fit a deck of cards in the side pocket of his snug jeans, but he whipped one out with a flourish. “Pick a card, lovely companion,” he said, stepping toward Dianna.

She felt her cheeks redden. “No, thanks,” she said. “Julie, let’s—”

“Please, Dianna,” the girl begged, excitement glimmering in her eyes.

“Well…” Dianna turned back toward the man and shrugged. “All right.”

She put out her hand, mentally comparing it with Julie’s much smaller one. Her nails were rounded, and she used a rose-tinted polish.

The man fanned out the cards. “Go ahead,” he said as she hesitated. “Pick one.”

Dianna closed her thumb and forefinger on one from the middle of the deck. She pulled it out.

“Now look at it,” the man said.

She did, then blinked, unable to believe her eyes. It was a three of clubs. But it wasn’t the suit or the number that startled her.

Printed along the card’s side was, “Beware.”

LT. TRAVIS BRONSON, of the special Undercover Response Unit, “L Platoon,” of the Metro Division, Los Angeles Police Department, did not let himself smile at the reaction of the beautiful, slender, but unapproachable woman he knew was Dianna Englander, widow of U.S. Representative Bradley Englander.

He had intended to startle her. It was the best way to get her attention.

“Now, please place the card back into the deck,” he told her. Her slim, elegant hand trembled as she obeyed. But she lifted her pale blue eyes to his and glared.

Brave lady, he thought.

“Watch,” he said. Using simple sleight-of-hand, he formed the cards back into a solid deck, shuffled them, then easily extracted the one Ms. Englander had selected: the three of clubs.

He knew why she had reacted so strangely. It had a warning on the edge. But so did all the cards in the deck he had proffered.

“Is that the one you chose?” he asked.

She nodded. “Of course, but you—”

“Now, how about that tuna sandwich, my friend?” He knelt to the level of the child he knew to be Julie, daughter of Jeremy Alberts, a developer of the building near where they stood.

“Sure,” said the girl, wonder written all over her enormous-eyed gaze. He was careful to make sure she hadn’t seen what was on the card.

“I’ll teach you how to do that someday, if you’d like,” he said.

“Really?” Her tone told him that she considered what he had offered a gift of the highest magnitude.

To him, card tricks, juggling and other feats with his hands were routine.

Ms. Englander appeared less impressed.

“Manny, would you get our young customer her sandwich?” he asked the thin Hispanic man who actually owned the pushcart. Manny Fernandez nodded and motioned to the child.

That gave Travis his opportunity. He reached into his pocket, but she gave him no time to show his badge. Instead, she muttered, “I don’t know what he paid you, but leave me alone. And if you’re smart, you’ll stay away from him, too.” She turned her back and followed the child. “Let’s go, Julie,” she said after she paid Manny, then turned back toward the building.

He wasn’t going to argue with her…here. But this wasn’t the end of it, especially because Travis could guess what “he” she referred to. “See you soon,” he said as she and the child passed.

She spared him barely a look. “Don’t count on it,” she said through gritted teeth.

Oh, but you can count on it, Ms. Englander, he thought.

He watched the woman and child disappear through the doors.

A SHORT WHILE LATER, Dianna forced herself to sit still in Wally Sellers’ office in the A-S Development suite, on the sixth floor of the Englander Center.

Wally, chubby and unkempt but happy in his own cascades of loose skin, had decorated his domain in a manner in keeping with his unassuming nature: mismatched but comfortable stuff. He sat behind his cluttered desk.

“I’m glad we’re meeting,” Dianna said. “I have something to tell you both, but I’ll wait till Jeremy gets here. Do you know what he wants to see us about?”

Almost as soon as Julie and she had walked back into the offices, her other boss, Jeremy Alberts, had told her they had to get together on an important matter. Though their meeting would be short, as Wally and he had some potential subcontractors coming in, they would convene now in Wally’s office.

Dianna had tried to take Jeremy aside to tell him about her fright in the plaza but hadn’t wanted to alarm Julie. She had already alerted the security crew downstairs, told them to contact the police. If local authorities interrogated that cheeky pushcart peddler, they might get information about his relationship with Glen Farley that could lead to Farley’s arrest at long last. This time she would not allow her claims to be ignored. She was no longer the terrified, hysterical widow whom federal agents had blown off before.

Jeremy bustled into the office, hurrying across the Berber carpet between the cluttered desk and the sitting area. “Good,” he said, glancing between Wally and Dianna. “You’re both here.” He took a seat on an orange-and-blue upholstered chair that clashed with Dianna’s blue-and-gray one, and tugged on his pants legs to arrange them. “I’ve settled Julie in my office doing homework. He’ll be here in a minute.”

“Who?” Dianna asked, but before he could respond, she continued, “Look, before whoever it is gets here, I have something I need to tell you.” She related what had happened on the plaza.

“Oh, no!” Jeremy rose by his seat. “Are you okay?”

Dianna assured them both—falsely—that she was. The experience had shaken her more than she dared to admit.

Farley was getting more blatant. Now he was even hiring people to frighten her. She wouldn’t know whom she could trust.

See you soon. The man’s words echoed in her head. She didn’t want to think about it…but how could she avoid him, if he stood right outside their building? Beware…