Nighttime Guardian

The two of them had been—

No!

She couldn’t allow herself to have those thoughts about Nathan.

He looked down at her, and in the soft light his eyes were like obsidian pools—deep and fathomless. Dangerous, if you weren’t careful.

He reached out a hand to touch her hair.

“Don’t do something we’ll both regret,” she warned. But she didn’t move away from his touch.

“I would never ask you to do anything you didn’t really want to.” Nathan wove his fingers in her hair, applying a gentle pressure until they stood only inches apart. He was so tall, she had to look up at him, and when she tilted her head back, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her first thought was to shove him away. Let him know she was not his for the taking.

Instead, she stood perfectly still, allowing his lips to whisper over hers in a promise of passion.…

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

We have another outstanding title selection this month chock-full of great romantic suspense, starting with the next installment in our TOP SECRET BABIES promotion. In The Hunt for Hawke’s Daughter (#605) by Jean Barrett, Devlin Hawke had never expected to see Karen Ramey once she’d left his bed—let alone have her tell him his secret child had been kidnapped by a madman. Whether a blessing or a curse, Devlin was dead set on reclaiming his child—and his woman.…

To further turn up the heat, three of your favorite authors take you down to the steamy bayou with three of the sexiest bad boys you’ll ever meet:Tyler, Nick and Jules—in one value-packed volume! A bond of blood tied them to each other since youth, but as men, their boyhood vow is tested. Find out all about Bayou Blood Brothers (#606) with Ruth Glick—writing as Rebecca York—Metsy Hingle and Joanna Wayne.

Amanda Stevens concludes our ON THE EDGE promotion with Nighttime Guardian (#607), a chilling tale of mystery and monsters set in the simmering South. To round out the month, Sheryl Lynn launches a new series with To Protect Their Child (#608). Welcome to McCLINTOCK COUNTRY, a Rocky Mountain town where everyone has a secret and love is for keeps.

More action and excitement you’ll be hard-pressed to find. So pick up all four books and keep the midnight oil burning.…

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Nighttime Guardian

Amanda Stevens

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amanda Stevens has written over twenty novels of romantic suspense. Her books have appeared on several bestseller lists, and she has won Reviewer’s Choice and Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery awards from Romantic Times Magazine. She resides in Cypress, Texas, with her husband, her son and daughter and their two cats.

Books by Amanda Stevens

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

373—STRANGER IN PARADISE

388—A BABY’S CRY

397—A MAN OF SECRETS

430—THE SECOND MRS. MALONE

453—THE HERO’S SON*

458—THE BROTHER’S WIFE*

462—THE LONG-LOST HEIR*

489—SOMEBODY’S BABY

511—LOVER, STRANGER

549—THE LITTLEST WITNESS**

553—SECRET ADMIRER**

557—FORBIDDEN LOVER**

581—THE BODYGUARD’S ASSIGNMENT

607—NIGHTTIME GUARDIAN

HARLEQUIN BOOKS

2-in-1 Harlequin 50th Anniversary Collection

HER SECRET PAST

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Shelby August—Twenty-one years ago she saw something rise out of the river and come after her. Whether the monster was real or imagined, Shelby’s life has never been the same since that night.

Nathan Dallas—For over two decades he’s kept his feelings for Shelby a secret. Now she’s come back home, but another terrible secret threatens to keep them apart.

Annabel Westmoreland—Shelby’s grandmother has lived on the river most of her life. She’s seen a lot of strange things.

Yoshi Takamura—He’s built a laboratory near the river, and there are whispers in town of strange experiments.

James Westmoreland—Annabel’s son. How far would he go to get his hands on her money?

Delfina Boudreaux—Her midnight walks along the river are troubling. What is she looking for?

Virgil Dallas—After Shelby’s monster sighting, his paper made the nine-year-old famous…and then infamous.

Miss Scarlett—Annabel’s neurotic cat may be the death of Shelby yet.

Dear Reader,

They say you can’t go home again, but Nighttime Guardian took me straight back to my roots along the White River in Arkansas. The journey started, oddly enough, on the Internet when I came across a site for a jewelry store in Newport, Arkansas, which deals in freshwater pearls from the White and Black Rivers. I was fascinated to learn that river pearls can be worth thousands of dollars and that in the late 1800s a White River pearl was mounted in the royal crown of England!

I was hooked. Intrigued. But I still didn’t quite have the spark I needed for my story. Then one day Phyllis Holmes, the manager of the store, reminded me about the White River Monster. That prehistoric, sea-serpent-like creature, affectionately dubbed Ole Whitey by the locals, had been the stuff of local legends. I began to wonder what would happen to a child who had a close encounter with the monster. How would she function in a world that didn’t believe in such creatures?

In Nighttime Guardian I’ve changed the name of the river and created a fictitious town, populated with fictitious characters. I’ve even taken artistic license with the monster. But make no mistake. This is where I grew up. These are my people.

And the monster? Well, a 1973 resolution was passed in the Arkansas state legislature creating the White River Monster Refuge.

Now, to you city folk, this may seem a mite eccentric. But if you’re ever out on the river at midnight, when the air is still and the shadows deep and the water so murky it’s like pea soup, you won’t think it strange. Not one bit.

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

Epilogue

Prologue

From the Arcadia Argus, June 18, 1980:

Pearl River Monster Strikes Again!

Well, folks, just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water, the Pearl River Monster has reared its ugly head again. A few days ago, a couple of local farmers reported missing livestock, and another one says he found a mutilated cow carcass down by the river. Now little Shelby Westmoreland, Annabel Westmoreland’sgranddaughter, has told Sheriff McCaid that she saw a huge scaly beast rise up out of the river last night right around midnight.

Unlike previous eyewitness accounts, which claimed the Pearl River Monster resembled some sort of prehistoric sea serpent, this creature apparently walked upright, like a man.

The child was clearly terrified and what she described “sent cold chills down my spine,” said McCaid.

Just what little Shelby was doing out there alone at that time of night is still unclear, but one thing seems certain, folks. There is something in that river besides pearls and catfish….

From the Arkansas Democrat, June 25, 1980:

Nine-Year-Old Sees Monster

An Arcadia girl swears she saw a “huge scaly monster” rise out of the water near her grandmother’s home on the Pearl River. The nine-year-old’s claim is the most recent in a rash of Pearl River Monster sightings that have swept the small communities along the river in the wake of reports of missing livestock and cattle mutilations. Cross County Sheriff Roy McCaid told a group of reporters outside the courthouse yesterday that the child either saw something that badly frightened her, or else she’s a very accomplished actress. “I’ve never seen a kid that scared. She could hardly talk when her grandmother brought her in.”

The child’s grandmother, Annabel Westmoreland, who deals in freshwater pearls harvested from the river, says her granddaughter left their house just before midnight on a dare from one of her friends. According to the grandmother, the child came running back to the house, screaming that she’d seen a horrible creature rise out of the water and come after her.

From the Wall Street Journal, July 2, 1980:

Monster Hunters Invade Arkansas

Following a recent Pearl River Monster sighting by a nine-year-old girl, an army of scientists, sightseers and so-called monster hunters have descended on the small, northeast Arkansas town of Arcadia, located on the Pearl River.

In addition to missing and mutilated livestock—supposedly the handiwork of the monster—there have been numerous alleged sightings of a “huge, scaly, humanoid creature” that inhabits the river.

In Arcadia, where Shelby Westmoreland lives with her grandmother, feelings are mixed concerning the sightings. “We’re all spooked around here,” one woman says uneasily.

But another resident openly scoffs at the notion of a monster. “That girl is obviously trying to get herself some attention.” The woman admits, however, that she has started locking her doors at night and might have second thoughts about swimming in the river.

Meanwhile, nine-year-old Shelby has become something of a celebrity, with tabloid reporters camping on her doorstep and an appearance scheduled later this week on the “Tonight” show.

From the Arkansas Democrat, July 9, 1980:

The Vanishing Monster

Three weeks after the latest and most dramatic sighting of the Pearl River Monster, scientists from Arkansas State University and from the Arkansas Game and Fish Commission have pulled up stakes and gone home. “If there is something living in that river other than an assortment of freshwater fish and mollusks, it certainly knows how to camouflage itself,” says Dr. Dean Carey, a zoology professor in Jonesboro. “We’ve found no evidence of anything out of the ordinary in the Pearl River, except, unfortunately, for a high level of pollution.”

Dr. Carey speculates that what people along the river may have witnessed recently is an alligator gar, which can sometimes reach lengths of ten to twelve feet. “And they aren’t your most attractive creatures,” he adds. “I can see how a child might think it a monster, particularly at night.”

When asked how an alligator gar might “rise up out of the river,” he laughs. “Chalk it up to a child’s vivid imagination. That’s the only possible explanation.”

From the Arcadia Argus, July 16, 1980:

Monster Sighting A Clever Hoax?

Well, it looks like we’ve all been had, but it was a fun ride while it lasted. Sheriff McCaid now believes Shelby Westmoreland’s claim that she saw the Pearl River Monster a month ago was, in fact, a hoax perpetrated by the girl’s uncle, James Westmoreland, to capitalize on the influx of sightseers to the area.

According to the sheriff, business at the Pearl Cove probably increased by as much as tenfold during the weeks following little Shelby’s claim. Anxious for a souvenir, visitors to the jewelry store were willing to plunk down hundreds of dollars for freshwater pearls from the river, guaranteed to protect the wearer from the monster.

With her uncle’s confession, Shelby’s fifteen minutes of fame have officially come to an end. Following recent developments, her second scheduled appearance on the “Tonight” show has been canceled, and the tabloid reporters have all gone home. Evidently, their feelings now are that the girl’s story just isn’t very credible.

Let’s hope little Shelby doesn’t go crying wolf in the near future because it’s doubtful anyone would be willing to listen….

Chapter One

Twenty-one years later…

Nathan Dallas swatted a mosquito on the back of his neck as he guided the Buford boys’ aluminum fishing skiff across the dusky water. The two brothers sat in the prow, drinking and muttering to one another until Nathan couldn’t help but wonder what they might be up to. He’d been gone from Arcadia for a lot of years, but he still remembered the rumors that had always swirled around the Bufords.

He remembered a lot of other things, too. The river stirred powerful memories for him. His father, strong and agile, diving into those murky depths for pearls. His mother, gentle and pensive, calling Nathan in to supper.

And Shelby, suntanned and sweet, waiting for him on the bank.

Cutting the outboard motor, he let the boat drift. In the ensuing silence, the twilight came strangely alive. A few feet from the skiff, a water moccasin glided like a ribbon of silk toward the bank. Somewhere nearby a turtle plopped into the water, and a whippoorwill called from the branches of a sweet gum.

The melancholy sound brought back even more memories. The nights Nathan had camped out alone by the river because he couldn’t stand seeing the grief in his father’s face, the defeat that had stooped Caleb Dallas’s shoulders and dulled his eyes before he’d reached fifty.

Back then Nathan had sworn he would never be caught in the same trap that had drained the youth from his father. He’d get away from this river if it was the last thing he did. He’d make something of his life, be somebody. And no one—especially not a woman—would ever take it away from him.

Well, at least that part had come true. His downfall hadn’t been caused by a woman. It had been his own hubris that had wiped out his career and his good name. And now here he was, back where he’d started. Back on the river, but this time, he wasn’t diving for mussel shells with his father. Caleb Dallas was dead, and Nathan now hunted something far more precious than pearls. A story that could launch his comeback. An exposé that could not only restore his reputation, but the self-respect he’d so carelessly tossed away in Washington.

He let his gaze travel downstream to where spotlights illuminated Takamura Industries. Yoshi Takamura had made millions selling freshwater mollusk shells to the Japanese cultured-pearl industry, but now that the mussel beds in the Pearl River were badly depleted, he’d turned his attention elsewhere.

He’d built a laboratory along the water, but to what end no one in town seemed to know. Or care, for that matter. Takamura was too important to the local economy for anyone to get overly concerned about their activities. But the secretive nature of the lab had triggered Nathan’s natural curiosity.

He’d cultivated a deep throat on the inside, a man named Danny Weathers who was an old school buddy of Nathan’s and who now worked as a diver for Takamura. So far, Danny hadn’t been able to shed much light on the activities inside the lab, but Nathan wasn’t about to give up. Not when he smelled a story.

At the other end of the boat, Ray Buford slapped at his bare leg. “Hellfire, Bobby Joe. Why’d you go and forget the bug spray? Skeeters gonna eat us alive out here.”

“Not if you get enough alcohol in your bloodstream. This is better’n any old bug spray.” Bobby Joe drained the last of his beer, smashed the empty can against his forehead, then slung the can overboard with a bloodcurdling yell.

Frowning, Nathan watched the container sink. Obviously, the Bufords didn’t put much stock in river conservation. No wonder the Pearl River suffered from such dangerous levels of pollution. Nathan was sorely tempted to give them both a stern lecture, but he doubted it would do any good, and besides, he didn’t want to risk alienating them. They both worked part-time for Takamura, and Nathan figured if the brothers got drunk enough, they might be willing to talk to him—which was precisely the reason he’d convinced them to let him help run their fishing lines tonight.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if we saw that ol’ monster out here tonight?” Bobby Joe drawled.

“Yeah,” Ray replied dryly. “That’d be real hilarious, Bobby Joe.”

The younger Buford laughed, belched then pulled a wicked-looking knife from his belt and trailed it in the water. “Here monster, monster, monster. Where are you, boy? Come show that ugly face of yours. Make us famous.”

“What’re you, stupid or something?” Ray grumbled. “Shut the hell up.”

“Chill, man.” Bobby Joe made a chopping motion in the water with the switchblade. “That monster comes up here, I’ll show him, like I did ol’ Shorty Barnes that time.”

Shorty Barnes was the reason Bobby Joe had spent three years in Cummins Prison Farm, but Nathan wasn’t about to remind him of that fact.

“You’d show him all right,” Ray scoffed. “Hell, boy. He’d chomp your arm off in one bite, knife and all.”

“Sounds like you boys believe all those stories about the Pearl River Monster,” Nathan said.

“Oh, Ray believes all right. He saw that thing himself, didn’t you, bro?” There was a goading quality in Bobby Joe’s thick voice. “Go ahead, tell ’im.”

Ray didn’t say anything, but in the fading light, Nathan saw something that might have been fear flicker across his homely features.

Unlike Bobby Joe, Nathan wasn’t about to ridicule Ray Buford for his fears. Nathan used to dive in this river, in water so murky he sometimes couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. There’d been times when he’d become so disoriented, he couldn’t tell up from down, and in a cold, black panic, he’d sensed things he’d never told anyone about.

Twenty-one years ago, he’d never been as certain as everyone else in this town that Shelby Westmoreland had been lying.

An uneasiness settled over the boat. They were in the middle of the river now, over the deepest part. The water was more than fifty feet in places. Nathan had often wondered what kind of creatures could survive on that cold, muddy bottom. Man-sized catfish, if legend could be believed.

But it was the giant river loggerheads that had always given Nathan a healthy dose of caution. Diving in water populated by those creatures wasn’t for the faint of heart. Also known as alligator snapping turtles, they sometimes grew to over two hundred pounds, and Nathan had once seen a smaller one snap a broom handle in two with its powerful jaws. He hated to think what one of the larger specimens could do to a man’s hand.

The boat drifted toward the first marker, and Ray reached over the side of the boat to grab the white bleach jug fastened to the end of the trotline. He gave it a yank. “Damn. The line’s tangled.”

“Looks like one of us’ll have to go down and get it freed up.” Bobby Joe fingered his knife. They both looked at Nathan.

He reached over the side of the boat and grabbed the line. “Let’s try working it loose first.”

They tugged and pulled for several minutes before the line finally snapped free. Bobby Joe grunted as they hauled it up. “Musta hooked us a big sucker.”

When the line popped to the surface, Ray leaned over the side to get a look. “What the hell is that?”

The realization hit all three of them at once, and Ray yelped, jerking back so violently the boat threatened to tip. Nathan clung to the sides as he stared at the mass of flesh and bone tangled in the line.

“Man, oh, man,” Bobby Joe said almost reverently. “Would you look at that? Something’s done ripped that poor bastard all to hell.”

Ray didn’t say anything. He stared at the corpse with a look of sheer terror, flinching almost pitifully when the beam of Nathan’s flashlight accidentally caught him in the face.

Nathan leaned over the edge of the boat, playing the light over the body, what was left of it. The black neoprene wet suit was in shreds, but the mask was still in place. Sightless eyes stared up through the lens, and an icy chill sliced through Nathan.

The dead man was Danny Weathers.

Chapter Two

Exhaustion tightened the muscles in Shelby August’s neck and shoulders, and she lifted her hand from the steering wheel to massage the soreness. Not so much exhaustion as tension, she realized, feeling the knots. Ever since she’d left the hospital in Little Rock where her grandmother had been admitted two days ago, Shelby had been experiencing a strange sense of disquiet, an uneasiness that had strengthened the farther north she drove on the interstate.

An hour out of Little Rock, she took the Arcadia exit, bypassing downtown to head east on a paved road that would take her to the river. A few miles in the opposite direction would have put her in the foothills of the majestic Ozarks, but Shelby came from the river bottoms—acres and aces of flat, swampy farmland steeped in superstition and mosquitoes.

Trees rose on either side of the road, obliterating the sky in places and turning the countryside almost pitch-black. The farther from town she drove, the more primal her surroundings. If she rolled down her window, she would be able to smell the river. But Shelby kept her windows up and her doors locked.

“Coward,” she muttered. She was thirty years old, no longer the same little girl who had cried “monster” more than two decades ago. But if the passing years had dimmed her memory of that night, time had done nothing to convince her that monsters didn’t exist. She knew all too well that they did.

But real monsters didn’t creep up from the river in the dead of night, as she’d once believed. They walked into offices in broad daylight and killed for the contents of a safe.

He can’t hurt you now, Shelby. You know that, don’t you?

She could picture Dr. Minger sitting behind his desk, his kind eyes soft and a bit blurred by the thick lenses in his glasses. Albert Lunt is in prison, serving a life sentence. No chance for parole. It’s over.

But it wasn’t over, Shelby thought, fingering the silk scarf she wore at her throat. It never would be.

Months of therapy had helped. The nightmares were fewer and farther between now, but they still came. Albert Lunt still terrorized Shelby’s sleep just as surely as he’d done the day he’d murdered her husband. Or the night he’d broken into her home and tried to kill her. As long as he was alive, he would always have this terrible hold on her.

I’ll find a way to get you, he’d promised as the police had dragged him from her home that night.

And a part of Shelby still believed—would always believe—that he would.

She shivered, even though the evening was warm and humid and the air conditioner in her rental car was turned low. She reached over and shut off the fan, wishing she could turn off her memories as easily. But they were there, niggling at the fringes of her mind as they had been ever since she’d left L.A. Distance wouldn’t quiet them, nor time. Nothing would.

Outside, the night deepened. Through the patches of trees, she had an occasional glimpse of moonlight on water. A silvery ribbon that wound for miles and miles through the very heart of Arkansas, the Pearl River had once held a fascination for Shelby, and then terror, after that summer. Now she realized that she had been hoping it might hold the key to her salvation.