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Protecting her was his job
Failure wasn’t an option
After Natalie Harper was left at the altar, enjoying her honeymoon alone is the best way to cope—until she’s attacked on the beach. Luke Everett, the bodyguard secretly hired by her federal judge father, arrives just in time to rescue her. It’ll take all his professional skills to keep Natalie safe. One wrong move and they could fall prey to the enemy’s deadly scheme.
SARA K. PARKER has been a writer ever since she was gifted a 4x6 pin-striped journal for her tenth birthday. Her writing hobby has since grown into her dream career—writing for Love Inspired, freelancing for magazines and teaching English at a community college. She and her husband live in northwest Houston with their four children, two (soon to be three!) mischievous dogs and an extremely vocal senior cat.
Also by Sara K. Parker
Undercurrent
Dying to Remember
Shattered Trust
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.
Shattered Trust
Sara K. Parker
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09498-6
SHATTERED TRUST
© 2019 Sara K. Parker
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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Natalie bit back a scream as the door pressed solidly, inch by inch, against the pile of furniture. A hand snaked into the room, connecting with the top of a chair and shoving it off the pile.
Then a loud shout came from down the hall and the gloved hand retreated.
She stood rooted to her spot, her imagination running wild. What if Luke needed help? What if an accomplice was heading toward the room right now?
She jumped back when a rap sounded at the door.
“It’s me.”
Luke!
He peered into the gap between the door and the wall, eyeing the furniture.
“I’ll come through my room,” he said, and disappeared from view. Mere seconds passed before he unlocked his side and rushed into her room.
“Are you okay?” He stepped close to her, his gaze assessing.
She nodded, because she couldn’t find her voice.
“I’m sorry. I thought it was a trap. I shouldn’t have left you here. We need to get moving.” Luke was already packing his belongings into his backpack. “We’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight. It’s not safe here.”
Dear Reader,
Trauma leaves an imprint on the soul. We are told in the Book of John that we’ll face trouble as we pass through this life, but that knowledge doesn’t protect us from the pain. Some days, it simply hurts to take each breath. Some weeks, we lose the ability to smile and truly laugh. Some painful seasons, it’s almost impossible to believe that God is near. Natalie and Luke both faced seasons of despair in their lives, but opened their hearts to the way God was working to make all things new. While the blessings that come in the wake of trauma will never erase the grief of a heart torn to shreds, each new sunrise is a reminder that we’re not alone—every blessing a promise that the Lord still has good in store.
Love,
Sara K. Parker
P.S. I love to hear from readers—find me at www.sarakparker.com.
When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee.
—Isaiah 43:2
To my siblings: Mary Ellen, Shirlee, Beth and Jonathan.
For showing up on my doorstep when I needed you most.
I love you.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
About the Author
Booklist
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction
Dear Reader
Bible Verse
Dedication
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
EPILOGUE
Extract
About the Publisher
ONE
It wasn’t the first time anyone had been stood up at the altar, but it would be the only time Natalie Harper was.
She was perfectly capable of being happy alone, and she would be.
Inhaling the briny sea air, she stared hard into the darkening sunset along the horizon, willing herself not to give in to the flood of humiliation that kept pressing in on her. Plenty of women had walked this same path before her. Thousands of dollars and months of planning wasted on a romantic waterside ceremony and festive reception—and no groom in attendance. But she was probably one of only a renegade few who dared to flee the aftermath and embark on a solo honeymoon. It felt just a little bit selfish now that she was lying on a pristine beach, the sky painted vibrant colors as the sun set along the Riviera Maya.
Night was falling quickly, and up and down the beach, most people had already deserted their loungers and cabanas and headed back to their hotels. Natalie knew she should, too. She twisted around to scan her surroundings, to assure herself she was truly alone. The nearby loungers sat empty, dilapidated sand castles the only sign that anyone had been there at all. The scene should have been peaceful, but the darkness beyond made her uneasy. Staring hard into the shadows, Natalie saw no signs of movement, nothing to account for the goose bumps rising on her arms.
Turning back to the fading sun, she reasoned with herself that her uneasiness was a product of fear, not proof of a lurker in the shadows. She’d fought that anxiety for close to twenty years now, and she knew it well. She forced herself to relax again and try to enjoy the solace, even if she didn’t particularly enjoy solitude or beach vacations.
Her fiancé had chosen the location, and Natalie had gone along with the plan. If she’d had her way, they would have rented a cabin somewhere along the Shenandoah River, hiked quiet wooded paths and just enjoyed being together.
She didn’t often get her way, though, and reserved her battles for the issues that truly mattered—right versus wrong, life versus death, milk chocolate versus dark.
In the end, a resort in Mexico versus a cabin in Virginia wasn’t an argument worth having, so she’d let it go.
And then... Kyle Paxton had let her go.
She stopped her thoughts in their tracks. She had seven more days to process all that had happened and decide how to move on. Tonight, she didn’t want to think.
She didn’t want to think about her string of failed relationships or Kyle’s poorly timed cold feet. She didn’t want to think about facing her family’s well-meaning sympathy, returning the mountain of wedding gifts waiting for her at home or unpacking her lonely boxed-up apartment. Taking a sip of her now-lukewarm strawberry lemonade, her gaze caught on the gaudy engagement ring on her finger.
She didn’t want to think about the ugly ring, either—a knock-off of the $1.4 million original worn by her friend and rising actress, Julianna Montgomery, last year at the Golden Globes. Julianna hadn’t won best actress, but her red carpet look had captured the world’s attention—from her body-skimming midnight blue gown to her wildly expensive jewelry, including the ring. Now Natalie stared down at the replica, its one-carat marquise diamond flanked by an army of teardrop sapphires jutting around the center like the sun’s rays, and wondered why she hadn’t handed it straight back to her fiancé. She’d hated it, but hadn’t had the heart to tell him, or the willingness to think about what his choice of rings meant.
Natalie liked quiet, elegant things, timeless styles, understated beauty. The pretentious ring only symbolized how little her fiancé truly knew her...and how much time and energy Natalie had poured into a relationship with someone who didn’t care enough about her to learn her tastes.
She glared down at the ring, the setting sun glowing in the depth of its stones. Maybe the first step to moving forward with new dreams was letting go of the old ones—the turnkey house in the heart of Baltimore, the pretty yard and the porch with flower baskets hanging from its eaves. The kids, the dog, the minivan. Were those even her own dreams in the first place? They had all been wrapped up in the copycat ring and Kyle’s empty promises, both of which had fallen far short of her expectations.
Twisting the too-tight band, she struggled to shimmy it over her knuckle. It had been a snug fit from the start, but the beach heat had caused her fingers to swell slightly. She’d considered dropping the ring off to be resized at her friend’s jewelry shop, but Hannah was already struggling to keep up with orders while her dad fought stage four glioblastoma. Natalie didn’t want to add to the burden, but she didn’t want to hurt Hannah’s feelings by bringing the ring somewhere else. It wasn’t really a problem, anyway, except for whenever she tried to take it off. She finally released her finger from its grip and held the ring between her thumb and forefinger, her attention straying to the endless black water beyond. It seemed the perfect place to toss it, the cloud-dimmed moon a silent witness to her rejection of all the ring had come to symbolize.
But Natalie’s practicality won, as it usually did, and instead she stuffed the ring into her shorts pocket. Maybe she could sell it and pay her dad back some of the money he’d wasted on the wedding that hadn’t happened.
A whisper of movement sounded behind her and she sat up in her chair, her feet settling into the still-warm sand. Large umbrellas shadowed clusters of vacated lounge chairs. Still empty. Every one of them. But darkness had fallen and she couldn’t see far beyond her solitary spot. A shifting shadow sent her pulse leaping, but she blinked and it was gone. Had she imagined it? It didn’t matter. Natalie had stayed too long.
She shoved her feet back into sand-filled flip-flops and tucked her book and sunscreen into her bag. All the while, she scanned the lonely beach, straining to hear anything unusual above the splash of the waves along the shore behind her.
Nothing, but she felt hunted, and that scared her.
Hurriedly, she bent to retrieve her towel, but as she straightened, a dark form emerged from behind a pair of loungers just yards away. Her breath caught in her throat and for one second, she froze, the towel dropping from her hand. And then the man lunged toward her, a knife glinting in his hand. Natalie screamed, swiveling away and taking off across the beach, all energy focused on the outline of the hotel against the moonlit sky.
Don’t look back, don’t look back! But she couldn’t help it. She looked back.
And then she wished she hadn’t. Because he was too close and too fast. And the hotel was too far away. Even as she pushed for more speed, sand flying up behind her on the beach, even as she focused every bit of energy on the hotel lights far ahead, his harsh breathing bore down on her, his footsteps closing in. In a panic, she surged forward, her leg muscles screaming from the effort, but her shorter frame was no match for his long legs.
A hand snatched at the back of her shirt and she screamed again, tearing away and dodging his grasp. But her foot hit an uneven mound of sand, and she went flying, her palms barely breaking her fall as her attacker’s arms snaked around her middle and yanked her backward. She screamed in desperation, hoping someone would hear and come to her rescue, but the sharp point of a knife pressed into the side of her throat, and she stilled.
The rough edge of his bandanna rubbed the side of Natalie’s face, and repulsion slid up her throat as his mouth pressed close to her ear. “Shut up,” he commanded, his stale breath hot at her neck.
He was going to kill her. Natalie knew that as surely as she knew that screaming and kicking would only hasten her death. One wrong move and the blade would puncture her throat, and she’d be left to bleed out as the tide came up and washed her body away.
* * *
Luke Everett was just about to give up his search and try again back at the hotel when he heard the screams. Now he sprinted across the empty beach toward the voice he’d heard, hoping the screams hadn’t come from the woman he’d been searching for. His hope was short-lived as he came upon the scene—Natalie Harper restrained by a stranger in black, a knife to her throat.
Luke’s blood ran cold.
Natalie had gone still, her attacker behind her, one arm hooked around her waist, the other across her chest with a menacing grip on the knife. Her captor met Luke’s eyes, his face hidden by shadows and a dark bandanna. A local, Luke thought. Young-ish. Several inches taller than Natalie. He filed the information away as the man dragged Natalie back a few steps.
Her panicked eyes locked on him, pleading silently for help.
“Get out of here!” the man snapped, pressing the blade deeper against Natalie’s pale flesh. No accent. Maybe not a local after all.
Luke took a step closer. “Let her go.”
“I said, leave!” the man bit out. “This isn’t your business.”
“I think it is,” Luke responded, shifting to the right, trying to get in position to disarm the guy. But the man’s eyes were shrewd, and they all knew he had the upper hand.
One week of 24/7 work covertly guarding the adult daughter of a federal judge had seemed like the perfect assignment—low threat and all expenses paid in a prime resort on the beach. There’d been no indication that Natalie was in any kind of danger, that there would be any threat against her. Her father had simply wanted to be sure she was okay.
She wasn’t.
Not by a long shot.
The attacker tracked Luke’s every move, eyes gleaming above the bandanna. Then his grip on Natalie loosened, the knife moving away from her neck as he jabbed it toward Luke.
“Back off,” he growled. “Or someone’s gonna get hurt.”
He jabbed the knife again, and Natalie shifted, meeting Luke’s eyes.
She was going to try to break free, Luke was sure of it.
“Don’t—” he started to say, but she was already moving, dropping all of her weight against the arm that held her. Her assailant stumbled, and she twisted, darting to the side as the knife arced through the air. Luke sprang forward, shoving the guy with both hands, the blade barely missing his face. He thought it might have glanced off Natalie’s shoulder, but he couldn’t be sure. He was too focused on the fight, on getting the advantage and keeping the attacker from doing any more damage.
Grabbing the guy’s wrist, he twisted it up behind his back until the knife dropped to the ground. He kicked it away, sand covering the gleaming blade.
“Run!” Luke yelled to Natalie, wrestling the attacker down into too-soft sand that made a locked grip nearly impossible.
Natalie ran, all right. Straight to her beach chair and her overloaded bag.
For about three seconds, Luke thought she was going for the bag because she didn’t want to leave her valuables behind. Then she was back, swinging the bag toward the man’s head.
It hit the man’s shoulder, glancing off his head with a muffled thud.
“Natalie, run!” Luke repeated.
Too late. The assailant snagged her ankle with his free hand, yanking hard enough to unbalance her. She fell sideways, knocking into Luke with enough force to send them both falling. He grabbed her automatically, cushioning her fall as they both rolled into the sand.
Before Luke could right himself, the attacker was sprinting away, Natalie’s bag under his arm.
“Hey!” she yelled, and darted forward to run after him.
Luke caught her arm. “Let him go.”
“He took my bag.”
“Better than taking your life.” He pulled out his phone and shone the flashlight on a dark stain on the shoulder of her light blue T-shirt.
Natalie frowned, pulling the fabric aside and eyeing a three-inch cut on her shoulder.
“Here.” Luke bent down and snapped up her towel, handing it to her. “Press this to your shoulder.”
He shrugged out of his light jacket and used it to pick up the discarded knife, depositing the weapon into a pocket of his tactical pants. He was anxious to get back to the hotel, to get a better look at the cut. That had been close. If he’d arrived even a few minutes later... He wouldn’t let himself think about that. He’d gotten there on time, and Natalie was safe. No thanks to the gun Luke had been forced to leave at home because of international travel restrictions.
To think he’d barely blinked when his boss, Roman DeHart, had informed him he’d have to travel unarmed. He’d need to give Roman a call about the incident, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. Not that Roman would give him flak. The two had been longtime friends before Luke had started working at Shield Protection Services. But Roman wouldn’t relish having to break the news to Judge Harper that his daughter had ended up in the hospital with a knife wound on her first night in Mexico.
A protective arm at Natalie’s back, Luke quickly led the way up the beach and onto the sandy path back to the Riu de Sueños Hotel. Coconut palms and sea-grape trees lined the path, offering plenty of cover for anyone who might want to lie in wait for unsuspecting tourists.
Was that what the assailant had been? An opportunist? Someone who’d seen an easy mark and acted?
Luke studied the shadows, looking for signs that they weren’t alone, but he saw no one. The ocean’s rush mingled with a whisper of wind through the treetops and the quiet murmur of conversation from hotel guests who stood on balconies and patios.
A normal evening along the Riviera.
Except that Natalie was hurt, her attacker on the loose, her belongings stolen.
Lively music echoed from the hotel, the sound of voices beckoning the pair to safety. He picked up the pace, and Natalie had no trouble keeping up.
As soon as the glass doors slid open and Natalie and Luke stepped inside, he discreetly led her to the front desk and asked for hotel security.
The desk attendant glanced at the pair with curiosity, but with Natalie’s wound covered, her injury wasn’t apparent.
“One moment, sir,” the woman said, and picked up her radio to contact security.
Several long minutes later, a lone security officer walked casually toward them, his polished dress shoes knocking along the tile floor.
“I am Officer Canto. How may I help you?” he asked, his English as perfect as his tailored navy uniform. A young guy, new to security, Luke judged.
“This woman was attacked at knifepoint on the beach,” Luke responded. “She’s injured. Her attacker dropped the weapon and ran off with her purse.”
The security officer’s attention shifted to Natalie, his bland expression unchanged. “You are injured?” he asked, as if requiring proof.
Natalie lifted the towel from her shoulder, and Officer Canto’s eyes widened at the bloodstained fabric. “Please, follow me,” he said, his voice urgent now. He walked at a clipped pace, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into his radio as they followed.
Luke wasn’t impressed. If the mere sight of a little blood was all it took to send the guy into panic mode, Luke didn’t plan to entrust their safety to him or his team. But they would have to follow protocol and file a report, at least, so he didn’t see any other option but to follow him as the officer ushered them down the hall behind the lobby. He finally opened a door into a small office with a single desk and three padded folding chairs. No windows.
“Please, sit. I will get a fresh towel.” The officer left the room, shutting the door behind him. Natalie sat, but Luke remained standing, fighting the urge to open the door to the hallway. Some people felt safer in enclosed spaces. Luke felt trapped.
If a first-grade teacher hadn’t cared enough to push for answers, Luke might have died in the closet his mother’s boyfriend had locked him in years ago. Four days alone in the dark with no food and barely any water? That did a number on a person. He eyed the door. He wasn’t a scrawny seven-year-old anymore. He pushed the unwanted memory away and focused on Natalie.
“Let me take a look at that,” Luke said, gently taking the towel from her and pushing the bloodstained T-shirt away from her shoulder.
She winced, her face devoid of color, amber eyes flashing pain.
“It’s pretty deep. Better keep pressure on it,” he said, setting the towel back in place. “I’m no doctor, but it looks like you’ll need some stitches.”
“I should have stayed home,” she muttered.
“You couldn’t have known you’d be attacked on the beach,” Luke pointed out, but could see his words didn’t have much effect, her eyes sad. A light spattering of freckles made her look younger than her twenty-nine years. Her near-white blond hair was short and wavy, a delicate pearl hair pin askew over one ear. He’d been informed about her fiancé standing her up at the altar. She’d decided to go on her honeymoon anyway, and by all rights, she should have been able to enjoy a few quiet evenings on a beach after something like that.