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?”

“Do you trust them?” Andrew asked.

Emma nodded. “With my life.”

“How about with the life of your child?” He captured Emma’s gaze and held it.

She nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Then yes. If I could get someone on a temporary basis that is trustworthy, it will give me time to look for a full-time bodyguard.”

Deputy McGregor closed his notepad and slid it into his pocket. “Tell you what... We’re having dinner at McGregor Manor tomorrow night. Why don’t you and Leigha come? You can discuss it with some of the members of the SOS team then.”

Andrew frowned. “SOS?”

“Stealth Operations Specialists,” Emma clarified. “They’re like the FBI and CIA, only better. Somehow they’ve opened a branch here in Cape Churn. You should come. You can meet all of them, and maybe by tomorrow night they’ll have an answer for you. Or they might have a suggestion of who to hire for the job of bodyguard to you and Leigha.” Emma wrapped a bandage around his hand. “Keep that out of water for a couple of days. In a week you can come in and I’ll remove the stitches. Otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

Emma gave him the routine discharge instructions and a prescription for antibiotics and sent him out to the lobby, where Leigha and Mrs. Purdy waited.

Leigha ran to him and hugged him around the legs. “I was so scared.”

“I’m fine.” He patted the child’s head and lifted her up on his uninjured arm. “Since we’re in town, why don’t we get some ice cream at the Seaside Café?”

Leigha clapped her hands together. “Yes, please.”

The smile on Leigha’s face made warmth spread across Andrew’s chest. He never ceased to be amazed at how much one little human being could make him feel more important than an entire office building of employees.

He vowed to keep this little girl safe, no matter the cost. If it meant hiring a bodyguard, he’d do it. But it had to be someone special. Someone he could trust completely. There weren’t many people he knew who fit that bill. How was he going to trust a stranger to fill that role?

Chapter 2

Dixie Reeves pulled into the parking lot of McGregor Manor. The lovely old home perched on the edge of a cliff outside the small community of Cape Churn, Oregon. In just under twenty-four hours she’d gone from being unemployed to having a job, to getting her first assignment.

What she was supposed to do as a bodyguard to a rich man was beyond her. As a squad leader in the Army, she’d been responsible for her soldiers, the first all-female squad of Airborne Rangers.

She’d done her best as a leader among her peers until one of their special operations had gone bad. They’d been caught in the middle of a firefight. Dix, manning a .60-caliber submachine gun, had remained behind, laying down cover fire for her squad, allowing them to escape. When she’d run out of bullets, she hadn’t had time to put her handgun to her head before she was captured.

Dix shook off the memory of the week she’d spent in hell in an enemy camp where she’d been humiliated, tortured and beaten repeatedly until the Navy SEALs were sent in to extract her.

That was over three years ago. Her life had changed dramatically. Processed out of the Army, she’d spent two of those years as a member of the Mixed Martial Arts fighting community. But the nightmares still lingered.

Dix stared at the lush landscape damp from the previous night’s mist, so foreign to the deserts of Afghanistan and Las Vegas she might as well have been on another planet.

From what she’d been told, the building in front of her had once been a rich man’s home, but had been turned into a bed-and-breakfast by the remaining members of the family. As a home, it was larger than anything Dix had ever lived in. As a bed-and-breakfast, it was quaint and had a heck of a view of Cape Churn.

Her new boss, Royce Fontaine, had tracked her down to her small apartment in Las Vegas, where she’d been sorting through what was left of her belongings after donating most of them to a local women’s shelter. He’d said he’d been following her career. At first, she’d assumed he’d meant her career as an MMA fighter. She’d done pretty well, winning one championship after another, focusing all of her anger and frustration into her fists.

Her opponents didn’t have a chance. The women she’d fought had never been through the intense training she’d survived as one of the first women to pass the Army Ranger training program. Nor had they been tortured in an enemy camp. The anger had fueled her fists until one day she’d gone too far and left an opponent comatose with a very slim chance of recovery.

Royce thought she’d be a good fit for his team. Dix wasn’t so sure. But with no other skills to add to her résumé, what else was she fit for? She might have gotten a job as a security guard at one of the casinos, but the noise bothered her, making her head ache and the tensions to multiply.

So, now she was going to be a member of the SOS team. What exactly did an agent with the Stealth Operations Specialists do? Royce had told her, Anything that needed to be done.

Then he’d gotten word from one of his other agents that a wealthy man needed bodyguard services on a temporary basis while he interviewed and hired one he could trust.

“But what does a bodyguard do?” she’d asked Fontaine.

And he’d answered, “Whatever needs to be done.”

“Not helping,” she muttered as she walked toward the bed-and-breakfast. Hopefully the other members of the SOS team could shed light on her responsibilities. She couldn’t afford to lose this job. It might be the only offer she got, and the pay was good. As far as she could tell, all she had to do was keep a rich dude alive.

How hard could that be in the States? They didn’t have Taliban or Islamic State fighters...at least, not that she knew of.

“Hello. May I help you?” a female voice called out from the front door of the manor.

Dix shaded her eyes and squinted. “Is this the McGregor Bed-and-Breakfast?”

“It is.” An auburn-haired woman stepped out onto the porch and smiled. “I’m Molly McGregor, one of the owners. Do you need a place to stay tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Dix said. “I’m supposed to meet someone here.”

The woman frowned. “Meet someone? Anyone in particular?” she asked, her smile warm and welcoming.

“Royce Fontaine sent me. Does that name ring a bell?”

Ms. McGregor’s eyes widened. “You’re D. Reeves?”

Dix nodded. “Dixie Reeves.”

The bed-and-breakfast owner clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. She dropped her hand, a sparkle dancing in her eyes. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“We?” Dix didn’t like the sound of that. A single contact was all she’d been led to believe would be waiting for her in Cape Churn.

“Yes,” Molly continued, cheerful and happy, something Dix couldn’t begin to relate to. “The gang’s all here. We thought you’d be here an hour ago.”

“My plane was delayed by weather over Vegas or I would have been here sooner.”

“No worries. I kept your dinner warm.” She waved a hand. “Come inside. Everyone is waiting for you.”

“Everyone?” Dix halted with one foot on the bottom step. “I was told to meet my contact here.” After quitting the MMA circuit, Dix had no desire to step in front of a crowd of people ever again. Whether it was a throng of three thousand or a party of five, she wouldn’t perform like a trained monkey to the delight of others. In her mind, being a bodyguard was being invisible until she needed to step forward to protect her client. She’d actually looked forward to being invisible. No celebrity status. No paparazzi. After dropping out of the MMA, she never wanted to be in the public eye again.

“The entire West Coast office of SOS agents is in attendance tonight. You’ll get a chance to meet all of them.” Molly grinned. “Don’t worry—they won’t bite. Unless you try to take their clam chowder. I managed to save a bowl for you.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to meet my contact out here, get my marching orders and go on to my client.”

Molly’s smile slipped. “Oh, okay. But your client is inside, as well. He’s having clam chowder, too.” The woman’s smile returned. “You might as well have dinner with us. I think your client gave his housekeeper the night off from cooking.”

Dix squared her shoulders and continued up the steps. She wasn’t getting out of the dog and pony show. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m here to work, not socialize.”

“Is that our newest SOS agent?” A dark-skinned man, with brown-black eyes, a full, sensual mouth and a slight Hispanic accent, stepped through the front door behind Molly and slipped his arm around the redhead’s waist. He frowned, his head tilting to one side. “Dix Reeves? The Dix Reeves?” His face split into a wide smile. “Are you a guest of the bed-and-breakfast?”

So much for being invisible. Dix sighed. “No, I’m not here to stay. I’m here on work-related business.”

“Dix, this is Casanova Valdez. Or Nova for short.” Molly turned to the man. “Nova, this is the agent Royce sent.”

Nova’s frown deepened. “I don’t understand.” He flicked a hand toward Dix. “That’s Dix Reeves, one of the most talented MMA fighters ever.”

“MMA?” Molly asked, her brows rising. “I’m sorry—is that another one of your military acronyms?”

Nova laughed out loud. “No. It stands for Mixed Martial Arts. Dix, here, is at the top of her game.” He reached out a hand. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

Dix held out her hand and, with a firm grip, shook Nova’s.

“Wait—what did you say?” Nova didn’t release her hand. “You’re the agent Fontaine sent?”

With a nod, Dix extracted her hand. “That’s me.”

“But you’re with the MMA.”

“Not anymore. I quit a week ago.”

“That’s a shame. I watched your last fight against Peggy Pounder. You threw some wicked punches and kicks. I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite that intense.”

Her lips thinned. Intense was one way to describe the fight. Insane was closer to the truth. She’d had a particularly bad night’s sleep, plagued by nightmares from her time as a guest of the Taliban. She’d gone into the ring, not to claim a championship, but to beat the demons out of her head.

She’d nearly killed her opponent.

Molly touched Nova’s arm. “Was that the fight you were watching last weekend?”

Nova nodded. “Incredible.”

Molly’s brows knit, her smile fading. “Didn’t that woman end up in the hospital?”

Dix’s belly clenched. “Yes. She’s still in a coma. It’s not one of my prouder moments.” Dix stared at Nova. “Are you one of Fontaine’s agents?”

With a grave nod, Nova answered, “I am. But I’m not your contact. That would be Tazer. She’s inside.”

“Good. I’d like to get on to my assignment.”

“Well, that’s the place to start.” Nova held open the door. “Just follow Molly. And don’t forget to try her amazing clam chowder. It’s muy bueno.”

Molly entered the manor first. “Everyone is in the dining room.”

Dix followed, bracing herself for more questions than she was ready to answer. If Nova recognized her, she hadn’t done a good job of blending in. She’d have to buy some hair dye and go from blonde to brunette to hide her identity. In the meantime, she squared her shoulders and turned toward the sea of faces in front of her.

The men pushed back from the table and stood.

Molly turned to her. “Everyone, this is D. Reeves. Otherwise known as Dixie Reeves or—”

“I’ll be damned.” A woman sitting at the other end of the table stood. “Dix Reeves. Mixed Martial Arts World Champion.” The woman had long blond hair, combed straight and hanging in a soft curtain down her back. In tan slacks and a cool, white-cotton blouse, she could have been a model for one of the fashion magazines. She stepped away from her seat and rounded the table, a smile quirking the corners of her lips. “Fontaine sure knows how to pick them.” She stopped in front of Dix and held out her hand. “Nicole Steele. But my friends call me Tazer.”

Dix shook the woman’s hand, surprised at the firmness of her grip. “Sounds like an MMA call sign.”

Tazer shrugged. “Suits me. I guess you could say I earned it.” She raked her gaze over Dix. “So, you’re going to be Andrew Stratford’s bodyguard.” She let the smile spread a little wider. “Makes sense.”

Dix pulled her hand free of Tazer’s grip. “I’d like to get on to my assigned duties, if that’s possible.”

Tazer grinned. “More than possible.”

Dix glanced around at the faces all staring at her. Which one was the rich man she was supposed to protect?

Tazer chuckled. “It’s none of the men at the table. Mr. Stratford stepped out to take a call. He’ll be back in a minute. As far as I know, you start your assignment immediately.”

“In the meantime—” Molly pulled out a chair “—have a seat and a bowl of chowder. I won’t take no for an answer.”

The pretty redhead might be smiling and sunny, but Dix suspected she was as tough as the muscular men seated around the table. “Yes, ma’am.” Before she could sink into the chair, a deep, resonant voice spoke from behind her.

“I’m sorry. I need to leave. Leigha isn’t feeling well. If you could send the bodyguard over when he gets here, I’d appreciate it.”

“As a matter of fact, your bodyguard is here.” Tazer hooked Dix’s elbow and turned her around.

Dix stared at the most beautiful man she’d ever laid eyes on. He stood half turned toward the exit, only one side of his face visible. While all the other men in the room were dressed in jeans or khaki slacks, this man wore a dark suit that appeared to be tailor-made to fit his body to perfection. His dark hair was shortly cropped, showing a bit of a wave. And those ice-blue eyes...

Then he squared off, spinning to fully face the room of people. A jagged scar ran from the edge of his jaw all the way up to the corner of his eye.

Dix drew in a sharp breath. She hadn’t expected such a magnificent man to have such a wicked scar.

His dark brows drew together into a V over his nose. “Where is he?”

“Not he,” Tazer said in a slow, deliberate voice. “She is here and ready to go to work.” She shoved Dix forward a step.

The gentleman shook his head, his eyes tapering into little more than a slit. “I don’t understand. I asked for someone who could protect me and my family.” His gaze raked over her. “I don’t need another female in my household. I need someone strong and capable of protecting Leigha.”

Her shock at the rugged scar on his face morphed into anger roiling deep in her belly. Dix let it bubble up to the surface. Yeah, she was probably overreacting, but she’d put up with more gender discrimination than most women, and had to fight and claw her way through every leg of the journey that had brought her this far. “Just because I’m female doesn’t mean I can’t defend myself, or take care of you and your family.” She planted her fists on her hips and lifted her chin. “Go ahead. Try to take me down.”

“Uh, Dix, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Nova said. “He’s the client.”

Andrew Stratford raised a hand. “It’s okay. I don’t think she’s the right person for the job. If she can prove she is, I might reconsider.” He gave her a narrow-eyed, assessing glance. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

She snorted. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re not going to hurt me.” I might hurt you, she thought, but kept the comment from coming out. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll wrinkle your suit?”

Tazer’s lips tilted upward. “Mr. Stratford, you might be biting off a little more than you can chew. My boss wouldn’t send someone who couldn’t do the job, and Dix is more than qualified. I’ve seen her dossier.”

“I can’t trust her with my family until I know she can handle the job.”

Tazer shook back her beautifully groomed hair. “Okay, but take it out in the yard. You don’t want to damage Molly’s dining room.”

Molly bit her lip. “I don’t want you to damage yourselves.”

Another man stood and clapped his hands together. “I’ve gotta see this.”

“Creed, don’t encourage them.” A sandy-blond-haired woman stood.

He shook his head, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re a nurse. If someone gets hurt, you can stop the bleeding until the ambulance gets here.”

“That’s right,” Nova said. “We have Emma. She can stabilize the loser until the ambulance gets here.”

Mr. Stratford waved a hand toward the door. “Ladies first.”

Dix fumed at his condescension, but swallowed her anger and focused on teaching this man not to judge a book by its cover, or a woman by the color of her hair or the size of her body. With her head held high, she marched through the living area and out the front door, letting it close in the man’s face.

She didn’t stop until she was standing on the ground in front of the manor.

Footsteps behind her indicated Stratford had followed her.

Before she could turn to face him, strong arms circled her, clamping her own arms to the side.

Used to facing her opponents in the MMA, the sudden attack brought back memories of being held in captivity, bound tightly, unable to fight her way out. Panic almost set in. Two years of therapy came to her rescue. She breathed in and out, forced the bad thoughts to the back of her mind and shut the door on them. Then her thoughts flashed to the best way to extricate herself from the man’s strong hold.

“If you can’t defend yourself,” he whispered against her ear, “you can’t defend me or my family.”

Dix drew in another calming breath and let her body go limp, a complete deadweight in his arms.

Stratford staggered backward.

She slipped downward, bunched her legs beneath her and planted her feet in the dirt. Then she twisted her body, taking his with hers, flinging them both to the ground.

As they fell, his grip loosened to break his fall.

Dix rolled over, grabbed his arm and jerked it up and behind his back, forcing Stratford onto his belly. She straddled his hips, sat on his back and leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Sorry I wrinkled your suit, Mr. Stratford. I’m also sorry I wasted your time. And, for the record, I’m not interested in protecting someone who doesn’t trust my ability to do the job. Thank you for the opportunity but no thanks. I’ll find another job.”

Dix released his arm and stood, stepping over his prone body. She turned back to the people gathered on the porch, clapping and cheering for her. She shook her head and repeated, “Thanks, but I don’t want the job.”

The cheering died down. Tazer descended the stairs, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean you don’t want the job?”

“I don’t. Mr. Stratford obviously doesn’t think a woman will suffice. I’ve fought my share of gender discrimination. I’m done.” She started toward the rental car, wondering how long her savings would last after she paid Fontaine back for the flight and the car rental.

Before she’d gone four steps, a leg shot out and swept her off her feet. She landed hard on her back, the air knocked from her lungs.

Stratford straddled her hips, grabbed her wrists and yanked them above her head, pinning them to the dirt. “Sorry I messed up your hair and smudged your makeup, but you can’t quit until I fire you.”

Dix gasped, her lungs remembering how to inhale. “I’m not wearing makeup. And it’s too late. I already quit.”

He shook his head. “I don’t accept your resignation.”

“You don’t have to.” She shoved at him and lifted her leg sharply, attempting to knee him in the back. “It’s not negotiable.” She grunted.

“I need someone to protect my family.” He scooted back on her thighs, trapping her legs on the ground. “Despite your bad temper, I want you to do it.”

She opened her mouth to protest.

He released one of her wrists and pressed a finger to her lips. “I don’t have anyone else. I need someone temporarily until I can hire a full-time replacement. At least give me that.”

“I’m not your man,” she bit out.

“Call me crazy.” For the first time since she’d met the man, his lips twitched in something akin to a smile. “I don’t want a man. I want you.”

Chapter 3

Andrew wasn’t sure what made him tackle the female. Not only had he pinned her to the ground, he’d insisted she take the job. He told himself it was her stubborn determination to prove herself that had pushed him past his concerns. The heat of her thighs straddling his hips and the way she’d pressed her breasts against his back had nothing whatsoever to do with his decision. Though his skin still tingled and the warmth of her breath on the side of his neck lingered in the cool night air.

The plain facts were that he needed someone to keep track of Leigha and keep her safe from whoever was trying to hurt him. What worried him more was the secret friend Leigha went on and on about. Should the person actually exist, he had no business hanging around a six-year-old without her father’s permission. Until Andrew had a permanent fix for the situation, Dix Reeves would have to do.

And even if she were as attractive as she was tough, he wouldn’t hold that against her. He rose to his feet and extended his hand to the woman on the ground.

She shoved it aside, easily rolled to her feet and brushed the dust from her jeans. She moved like an athlete, with a spring in her step. Fast and strong, the woman could be an asset. At the very least, she’d be a good temporary solution to his needs. Tomorrow he’d log on to the internet and search for reputable bodyguard services. “If you’re ready to leave, I need to get home. As I mentioned, Leigha isn’t feeling well and I don’t like leaving her for very long with only Mrs. Purdy to protect her.”

Dix crossed her arms over her chest. “What part of ‘no thanks’ did you not understand?”

Ignoring her refusal, he walked to his SUV and climbed in. “Follow me. The road can be hard to find in the dark. And by the looks of it, the Devil’s Shroud is moving in.”

Dix shot a glance from Andrew to Tazer. “What’s he talking about?”

Tazer nodded. “He’s right. By the time you get back to his place, the Devil’s Shroud will make it very difficult to find your way.” Her lips twisted. “The folks around here have a flair for the dramatic. The Devil’s Shroud is what they call a thicker-than-pea-soup fog that blinds anyone trying to find their way through it. If you live here long enough, you will undoubtedly experience it firsthand. Probably tonight.”

Molly stepped forward. “They say that when the Devil’s Shroud rolls in, you can count on evil coming along with it.”

Dix snorted. “Well, I should be able to find my way to town and a hotel before it gets that thick.”

With a shrug, Molly glanced toward Andrew. “You might try saying ‘please.’”

Andrew pressed his lips together. As one of the most powerful traders on Wall Street, he’d been used to giving orders and having people follow them without question. Since the accident, he’d left that world behind. But that world hadn’t completely left him. He swallowed the desire to tell everyone to go to hell and forced out, “Please.”

Dix’s brows puckered and a smile curled the corners of her mouth. “Wow. That’s the best you can do?”

He growled before he could stop himself. “Take it or leave it.”

She hesitated, her gaze sweeping him from head to toe. As he expected, her perusal slowed on the scars he’d acquired in the accident.

Andrew fought the urge to turn his face away as well as to hide his hand from her all-seeing eyes. But he stood fast, refusing to back down. She’d see the scars on a daily basis; she might as well get used to them now.

When her gaze reached his toes, she looked up and nodded curtly. “I’ll take it. But only on a temporary basis.” She pointed a finger at him. “And not for you, but for your daughter. Hopefully she doesn’t have her father’s bad temper.”

Andrew slipped into the SUV without saying another word. He didn’t wait to see if she would follow, but pulled out of the gravel driveway and onto the paved highway.

Lights shone into his rearview mirror.

He let go of the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and focused on driving through the increasingly thick fog along the curvy coastal highway leading toward his estate.

When she got too far behind, he slowed and waited. By the time he reached the turnoff to his driveway, the fog had completely taken over. Andrew waited for Dix to turn in behind him before he hit the button to activate the automatic gate opener. The gate remained open long enough for both cars to pass through. Then he was leading the way along the twisting drive to Stratford House, the mansion his grandfather had left to him.

Not until he was right in front of the structure could he see the lights glowing a hazy yellow from the main living room and one of the upstairs bedrooms. The rest of the house lay in shrouded darkness.

In the fog, the house resembled one of those Gothic buildings in a horror movie. Andrew wondered what Dix was thinking. Would she turn around and leave? Or would she accept the challenge, creepy house and all?

He got out and waited for her rental car to pull to a stop next to his SUV.

Dix climbed out of the vehicle and stared up at the three-story mansion. “This is where you live?” she asked. Her gaze shot to him.

“It’s my home,” he said.

“It’s big enough to be a hotel. No wonder you need help keeping track of your daughter. Someone could easily get lost in that house.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” he said, surprised at the defensiveness in his tone.

“Did he have a large, extended family, aunts, uncles and cousins who moved in with him?”

A smile pulled at the corners of Andrew’s lips. “No. He built it for his wife, whom he loved dearly.”

Dix shook her head. “Why?”

“Some say they had hoped to fill each room with children. Others think my grandfather and my grandmother liked making love in a different room every night. It gave them a multitude of options.”

Dix’s cheeks blossomed into a pretty shade of pink and she turned toward her rental car. “I’ll have a look around the house. As big as it is, it has to have multiple entry and exit points.”

“It does.”

She lifted a gym bag from the backseat of the car and straightened. “Do you check each one of them every night?”

“I do. It takes approximately fifteen minutes to check and secure all of them.” He held out his hand. “I can take that for you.”

She shook her head. “I can manage.”

“Where are the rest of your things?”

She lifted the bag. “This is it. I travel light.”

Andrew stared at her. She didn’t wear makeup and her blond hair was straight and neatly brushed. Jeans, a powder blue T-shirt and a slightly worn pair of running shoes made up Dix’s outfit. She looked like the girl next door. No. More like the tomboy next door. So completely different from his ex-lovers. Some of them had to have a new pair of shoes for every outfit. Several families could be supported for a year on the amount they’d spent on footwear alone.

He strode to the front door, inserted a key and threw open one side of the massive double-door entrance. Andrew waved his hand. “Ladies first.”

Dix’s eyes narrowed but she stepped past him into the three-story foyer.

“Wow, it’s as massive on the inside as it is on the outside.” Even though Dix spoke softly, her words echoed against the walls and marble floors.

Andrew closed the door behind him and twisted the dead bolt. “My grandfather and grandmother had a flair for the dramatic.”

“No kidding.” Dix spun in a circle. “Yeah, I can see where you could lose a kid in this.”

Andrew had been coming to his grandfather’s house since he was a small child. He was used to the grandeur. Seeing it through Dix’s eyes, he could understand how overwhelming it could be. Especially if you were tasked with protecting the occupants of such a large building.

“Oh, good. You’re home.” Mrs. Purdy, his housekeeper, hurried down the sweeping staircase. “Leigha was asking for you.”

“Any improvement?”

Mrs. Purdy’s lips pressed together. “None. She’s still running a temperature despite the anti-inflammatories and cool compresses. I think she’s a bit delirious, as well. When you didn’t come after she called, she asked for her imaginary friend.”

In the months Andrew had taken over the care of his daughter, he’d only had to contend with a case of the sniffles and an odd nightmare or two. Never a fever and delirium. “Should I call the doctor or take her to the emergency room?”

Mrs. Purdy shook her head. “Her fever has only been up to 102 degrees. If it goes higher, you should take her to the hospital. For now, she needs to sweat it out.” The older woman glanced back up the stairs. “I’d stay, but Mr. Purdy wasn’t feeling on top of the weather himself.” For the first time, the woman noticed Dix. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you back there.” She held out her hand. “I’m Dottie Purdy. And you are?”

Dix held out her hand and opened her mouth to reply.

Before she could, Andrew cut in. “Mrs. Purdy, this is Dix Reeves. She’s an old friend who will be staying with us for the next couple of weeks.”

Mrs. Purdy smiled and shook Dix’s hand. “Oh, that’s just lovely. This big old place needs more people to fill it up. I’ll be sure to add a plate to the dinner table tomorrow. Anything in particular you prefer to eat, or allergies to anything?”

“I’m pretty open to anything,” Dix said. “No allergies.”

“Great.” Mrs. Purdy beamed. “Then I’ll see you two tomorrow. Call if you have any questions about Leigha. My children all went through fevers and upset stomachs a number of times. They all came through just fine.” She waved her hand. “Cool compress. Her next dose of Tylenol should be in four hours. Rub a little mentholated cream on her chest if she gets stuffy. Other than that, stay with her. She seemed a little sad and frightened tonight.”

Andrew almost stepped in front of Mrs. Purdy to block her from leaving. “Are you sure I’m qualified for this? Should I call a nurse, anyone with more experience?”

Mrs. Purdy patted his scarred cheek. “You have as much experience as most new parents. You’ll do fine. And I’m sure Miss Reeves will help.”

“Me?” Dix touched a hand to her chest. “I don’t know anything about sick children.”

“All you have to do is stay with her. Check her temp and keep her calm.” Mrs. Purdy glanced at her watch. “I really must go. It will take me quite a while to get home in the fog.”

Panic threatened to overwhelm Andrew. He’d had a nanny for Leigha in New York City. And Mrs. Purdy did most everything for him since he’d arrived in Cape Churn and secured her services. He was completely unqualified to deal with a sick little girl.

Mrs. Purdy didn’t stay to argue. She was through the door and gone before Andrew could order her to stay. Not that she would. Mrs. Purdy wasn’t one of the Wall Street interns he could order around. She did things when she was good and ready, on her own schedule, in her own way. And she kept his house in order.

Dix crossed to the door and twisted the lock behind Mrs. Purdy. “If you’ll tell me where I can drop my things, I’ll start my inspection of the house.”

“I’d like you to start your inspection in Leigha’s room,” Andrew said.

“Oh, no, you don’t. You just want me to take care of your kid.” Dix held up her hands. “Just because I’m female doesn’t mean I know what to do with a sick child. She’s your little girl. You fix her.”

A weak cry came from above. “Mrs. Purdy? Mr. Stratford? I don’t feel good.” Sobs followed.

Andrew’s gut knotted. So, he didn’t know how to take care of a sick little girl. He’d wing it. Leaving Dix standing in the entryway, he took the steps upward, two at a time, and entered the third doorway on the right. The room closest to the master suite.

Leigha lay in the queen-size bed, a small figure swallowed by puffy, cotton-candy-pink blankets. Her long blond hair fanned across the pillow and her face was even paler than normal. Brewer lay at her feet, his chin between his paws, his tail thumping against the comforter.

“Hey, Leigha. Mrs. Purdy had to go home.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide. “Who’s going to take care of me?”

Andrew sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. His hands felt so big and clumsy next to her delicate features. God, he wished Mrs. Purdy hadn’t left. “I guess you’re stuck with me.”

Footsteps sounded outside the bedroom door.

Andrew shot a glance over his shoulder.

Dix peeked in and added, “And me.”

Leigha’s eyes widened. She reached for Andrew’s hand and whispered, “Who’s she?”

Andrew waved his hand behind him, urging Dix forward. “Leigha, this is Dix. Dix, this is Leigha.”

Leigha’s brows lowered. “What is she doing here?”

Andrew hated lying to the child, but he needed her to trust Dix. “Dix is my friend, and she’s come to stay with us for a little while. I’m counting on you to show her around. This place is so big, she might get lost.”

“I don’t feel like showing her around. My tummy hurts.”

“You don’t have to show me around today, sweetie.” Dix entered the room and came to stand beside Andrew. “Maybe when you get better?” She reached out her hand to the dog. “Is this your dog?”

Leigha nodded.

“What’s his name?” Dix asked.

“Brewer.”

Dix scratched behind Brewer’s ears. “Does Brewer like to listen to stories?”

Leigha frowned up at Dix. “Brewer’s a dog. He doesn’t always understand people.”

Andrew hid a grin. His daughter wasn’t going to give Dix an inch. She’d have to work for a connection.

His new bodyguard walked over to a shelf and thumbed through the colorful books. “I bet he likes it when you talk to him, doesn’t he?” Dix lifted a book off of a shelf. “Do you think he would like it if I read to him?”

The little girl closed her eyes. “He might.” She reached for Andrew’s hand and squeezed it, uncaring that it had burn scars and didn’t feel like a normal hand. She didn’t mind that he wasn’t perfect. She always seemed glad that he was just himself. His heart swelled. This little girl he hadn’t known he had until a year ago was his.

“What would he like to listen to?” Dix asked.

“He likes the book about the island and the blue dolphins.”

Andrew almost laughed out loud. From claiming Brewer was just a dog to admitting the animal would like to listen to the book Island of the Blue Dolphins, Leigha had come full circle.

Score one for Dix. Despite her claim that she didn’t know anything about children, she’d gotten Leigha to come around to her way of thinking without having to order her to do so.

Andrew nodded. “I’ll let you three get to it.” He started to rise but was stopped by the little hand holding his.

“Please stay, Mr. Stratford.” Leigha stared up at him with glassy blue eyes, her face flushed and her body hot.

“Tell you what...” Dix handed the book to Andrew. “Let your father start the story, while I get a fresh cloth to cool your face.”

“But Brewer wants to hear you read,” Leigha said.

“And I will. After I get something to cool you down.” Dix drew an X across her chest. “Cross my heart.”

“Okay.” Leigha turned to her father.

Outmaneuvered by the woman, Andrew opened the book. “Where should I start?”

“At the beginning.” Leigha closed her eyes and lay back against the pillow.

Andrew started reading.

Dix disappeared into the room’s adjoining bathroom and returned with a damp cloth. She folded it several times and laid it across Leigha’s forehead.

Andrew couldn’t help noting how gentle Dix was with his little girl. The woman was a natural with kids. While he read, Andrew studied Dix out of the corner of his eye.

Without makeup and her hair hanging loose around her shoulders, she wasn’t a classic beauty. Her shoulders and arm muscles were well-defined and taut. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her body. Whatever she’d done before going to work for Fontaine, she’d kept physically fit. No, she wasn’t like Tazer, a woman who could pose for a fashion magazine. Nor was she bone-thin, like so many runway models who looked like they could use a big hamburger or treatment for an eating disorder.

No, Dix was what Andrew would call a healthy, granola girl, adept at hiking up hills without breaking into a sweat. She might even be capable of scaling cliffs with her bare hands.

But at that moment she was showing a side of herself she probably didn’t know she had. A side that made Andrew look at her in a whole new way.

The tenderness with which she applied the cool cloth to Leigha’s brow and cheeks was nothing short of maternal. She moved slowly, carefully patting Leigha’s face as she smiled down at the child.

So engrossed in watching Dix’s movements, at one point, Andrew forgot to read.

“I’m not asleep yet.” Leigha opened her eyes. “Please keep reading.”

“Sorry,” Andrew said, shaking aside his obsessive desire to watch Dix’s every move.

Dix chuckled low in her chest.

The sound made Andrew warm all over and he wanted her to do it again. He jerked his attention back to the book and read each word, without really seeing them or absorbing the story.

As he ended the first chapter, Andrew realized two things.

Leigha had fallen asleep and Dix had chinked away a piece of the wall he’d erected around himself.

That would not do. The woman was a hired hand. A temporary one at that.

The sooner he found a replacement bodyguard, the better.

Chapter 4

Dix smiled down at the little girl with the spun-gold hair splayed out on the pillow. She remembered a picture of herself at about Leigha’s age. Her hair had been long and wavy, and she’d been full of curiosity and mischief. Her mother had never been able to keep up with her. Looking back, she was surprised she’d lived through some of her more dangerous escapades.

If her mother had known where she’d been exploring, she would have had more gray hair. To the young Dix, life had been one big adventure.

Joining the military had been a logical choice for Dix. She related better with men than with women, and she’d always liked getting dirty and shooting guns with her father. In fact, she liked fishing, hunting, yard work and anything her father had liked. Housekeeping, cooking and laundry had been her least favorite things to do growing up. She’d been happiest outdoors in the sunshine.

So why did her heart skip several beats and then tighten in her chest when she stared down at the little girl lying against the cool sheets, her body warm from fever?

Something she’d never felt before welled up inside. A fierce desire to protect this small creature so dependent on adults to keep her well and alive. Was this how parents felt about their children? While her mother had wanted to hold her back, she’d done it out of a desire to keep her safe. Her father, on the other hand, had wanted to share his love of the outdoors with her, to show her some of what she could do if she broadened her mind beyond the walls of their little house in the country.

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. 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.”

Dix turned to find Leigha staring across the room at her, her cheeks flushed, her eyes glassy.

“Your father will stay with you,” Dix pointed out, hating to disappoint the girl but feeling the need to escape. This sweet little family scene threatened to choke her. After all she’d been through, she doubted seriously she’d ever have children of her own or be the mother they needed.

“But I want you to stay, too,” she said, her voice trailing off, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “I don’t feel good.” She raised her little hand, reaching for Dix.

Mr. Stratford stopped reading and turned to add his gaze to his daughter’s.

Her heart contracting, Dix couldn’t step through the door and leave when the little girl had asked her so sweetly to stay.

She sighed. “I’m only going to wet the cloth again and make it cooler. I’ll be right back.” Dix changed direction and headed into the bathroom. There she turned on the cold water and dipped the cloth beneath. While she soaked and squeezed the excess out, she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

I can’t do this.

Fighting in the MMA had given her an outlet for her anger and sorrow. Without it, she had no way to channel the energy or to push aside the pain.

This father and daughter pair already had her gut tied into a very twisted knot and she hadn’t been there for even a day.

Dix’s parents had died in a helicopter crash while touring the Grand Canyon. She’d been deep in Army Ranger training on the field training exercise when it had happened. The training officers hadn’t told her until she’d completed the most challenging portion of the exercise.

No one had been there when she’d graduated, nor had she had the opportunity to celebrate because she’d gotten right onto a plane and flown to her home state of Texas to attend her mother and father’s funeral.

Going home had been the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life. The house hadn’t been the same without her mother and father in it. She’d listed it with a Realtor, packed a few photo albums, her great-grandmother’s antique candy dish and given the rest of the furnishings and clothing to a local charity.

She hadn’t had much time to manage it all before she’d had to report back to her new unit only to ship out within two weeks to the war zone.

All of those memories were still raw, even though it had been years.

Dix glanced down at the cloth she’d squeezed so much it barely retained any water. She dampened it and started over. A minute later she returned to Leigha’s bedroom and draped the cloth over the girl’s forehead.

“You came back,” she whispered and reached for Dix’s hand. She pulled her closer until Dix was forced to sit on the side of the bed.

The little fingers in hers were too warm. She wondered how long it would take for the fever to break. If it didn’t, they might be making an emergency trip to the hospital before the night was over.

Mr. Stratford glanced up, his gaze connecting with Dix’s.

A sharp stab of awareness coursed through Dix’s veins. She averted her gaze and stared down at the little hand resting in hers.

Stratford started another chapter of the book, his voice droning on until Leigha finally slept.

Dix slipped her hand free of Leigha’s and stood.

“You can go. I’ll take it from here,” Mr. Stratford said.

With a nod, Dix left the room. Once in the hallway, she dragged in several deep breaths before she started down the stairs and took her time going through each room on the ground floor, checking windows and doors to ensure they were all secured.

All the while, she thought of the little girl and her father in the room upstairs. Other than a housekeeper and a dog, they seemed incredibly alone in the huge old mansion. How sad. Even if the mansion was a family inheritance, she would have converted it into the hotel it seemed more suited for or she’d have sold it. The McGregors had the right idea converting their big old house into a bed-and-breakfast. At least it was full of people, not dark and lonely.

All of the doors and windows on the first floor were secured. In the kitchen, she found a door leading into the basement. She flipped the light switch. A yellowed bulb gave an eerie glow that barely lit the stairs halfway down. Hollywood had given basements a bad reputation. Everyone knew a lone female going into the basement by herself was a bad idea. It never ended well.

Dix snorted. Having trained in snake-infested swamps as well as having significant experience in hand-to-hand combat and mixed martial arts, she didn’t consider a basement a threat. But she wasn’t stupid. Dix grabbed a butcher knife from a drawer and descended the stairs. At the bottom, she found another switch. When she flipped it, bulbs lit at different locations. Some appeared burned out.

The space below the mansion was almost as extensive as the first floor, broken up by thick posts, crates, old furniture, a room set up as a wine cellar and stacks of cardboard boxes. A veritable maze. Scattered around the outer walls were tiny windows and one exit leading to a trapdoor that probably opened out into a garden. She pushed against the door. It held firm, no matter how hard she tried to open it. In the morning she’d check it from the outside. She suspected it had a padlock holding it in place. The small windows were locked and, other than a creepy feeling, the basement appeared secure.

As she started for the stairs, something moved in the shadows with a scuffling sound. As big as the house was, it might have a mouse or rat problem.

A shiver slipped down Dix’s spine and her hand tightened around the handle of the butcher knife. She inched forward, her ears straining to pick up the sound again. If she could pinpoint the direction, she might actually find the culprit.

There it was again. Only this time it sounded more like a footstep. Dix ducked behind a stack of boxes and waited. Whoever it was shouldn’t be sneaking around the basement. If it was Mr. Stratford, he would have announced his presence, wouldn’t he?

Or was he like her, wondering who would be sneaking around a basement so late at night? Dix opened her mouth to say something, announcing her presence. She didn’t want to startle the man. He could be carrying a gun and react by shooting first, asking questions later. Before she said anything, she shut her mouth and remained silent. The footsteps faded away into silence.

Dix waited several minutes before moving again. Why hadn’t Stratford said something? If he’d come down to the wine cellar, he would have passed her stack of boxes. But no one had walked past her hiding place.

Shrugging the tension from her shoulders, she stepped out from behind the boxes, calling herself every kind of fool. She knew better than to let a creepy old mansion scare her. It was just a building. She’d performed sweeps of many buildings in her Army career. The difference being she’d carried an M4A1 rifle, worn protective gear and had a trained team backing her.

She had just placed her first foot on the bottom step leading up to the kitchen when the lights blinked out.

The darkness in the basement was so complete, Dix couldn’t see anything but the sliver of light beneath the door to the kitchen at the top of the stairs. But, wait—how could the light be on in the kitchen and not in the basement? Someone had to have turned out the lights or a breaker had tripped to cut the electricity to the lights where she stood.

The sound of wood crashing against the concrete floor made Dix jump. She stumbled against the riser, nearly stabbing herself with the butcher knife as she scrambled for a handhold. She found her footing and raced up the steps toward the slim bit of light finding its way beneath the door.

At the top, Dix held her breath, twisted the knob, flung open the door and burst into the kitchen, running into a solid wall of muscles.

A strong hand wrapped around her wrist, holding it and the butcher knife at a distance.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to run with a knife in your hand?”

At the sound of Stratford’s voice, Dix sagged against him, at once relieved, quickly followed by chagrin that he’d found her running out of a scary basement because of a noise. Some bodyguard she’d prove to be if his house gave her the willies.

She pushed her free hand against his chest, inhaling the faint yet tantalizing scent of aftershave. “Thank you, but I was doing fine until you stepped in my way.”

He chuckled. “Where were you going, brandishing that butcher knife?”

She pulled her hand free and tilted her chin. “I was headed to the drawer to put it away.” As if to prove out her lie, she walked to the drawer where she’d found the knife and slipped it in. Gathering her wits, she turned to face him, her brows rising. “I have a question.”

“Try me. I might have an answer.”

“Where’s the breaker box?”

His brows dipped. “Why do you ask?”

“The lights went out in the basement while I was down there checking windows and doors.”

His frown deepened. “The breaker box is in the basement. I had the wiring upgraded several years ago. Since then, I can’t recall having issues with breakers being thrown.” He walked to the door Dix had stormed through a moment before and flipped the light switch. The light came on. “Seems to be working now.”

Dix’s face heated. Could she have hit the switches by accident?

“I’ll check the breaker box, just to make sure. But if this light is on, the others will come on, as well. The basement is all wired to the same breaker.”

Dix nodded. “I’d feel better if you did check. Perhaps there’s a short in one of the wires.”

Mr. Stratford descended the steps.

Dix followed, wishing she’d brought the butcher knife.

A wooden chair that had been stacked on top of an old table lay on the ground, its legs broken and splintered. She could have brushed by, dislodging it from its perch. But that still didn’t explain the lights extinguishing when they did.

She followed Stratford to a metal box mounted in the wall. He opened it, ran his finger down through the labels until he stopped on the one marked Basement. He flipped the switch and the lights went out.

The breath caught in Dix’s lungs and she strained to hear the sound of footsteps, like she had a few minutes before. Silence stretched until another loud click heralded the lights coming back on.

Stratford turned to her. “Seems to be working fine.”

Great. She looked like an idiot. But that didn’t bother her as much as the memory of shuffling footsteps when she’d been hiding behind the cardboard boxes.

She didn’t believe there was a real problem with the electricity. The problem was that something or someone had to have flipped the breaker to make all of the lights in the basement go out at once.

“Besides you, me and Leigha, are there any other people who live in this house?”

Stratford shook his head. “No. Mrs. Purdy comes in every day to cook and clean for us. But that’s it.”

Dix nodded. She’d be sure to carry a gun with her whenever she entered the basement. If for nothing else, to shoot at the rats.

“Any more questions?” he asked.

“Yes.” She stared up into his eyes. “Where will I sleep?”

Stratford cupped her elbow in his hand and led her toward the stairs. “I have Leigha in the room next to mine with an adjoining door. I’d like for you to sleep in the bedroom beside hers.”

Dix nodded, her skin tingling where his hand rested on her arm. In a structure the size of Stratford House, she could have been assigned a room in a completely different wing. She was glad he put her close to Leigha for the child’s sake. But being close to the man added an entirely different dimension to this task. “One more question.”

His lips quirked on the corners, making the wicked scar less menacing. “Shoot.”

“Where’s Leigha’s mother?”

The hint of a smile vanished, replaced by a fierce frown. “Why do you need to know?”

“I was sent to protect the family. I assumed husband, wife and child. If I’m to protect the entire family, I need to know who that consists of.”

“All you need to be worried about is making sure Leigha is safe. I can take care of myself.”

Dix persisted. Stratford wasn’t happy about something and he was avoiding a direct response. “Your wife?” She held her breath, part of her hoping there wasn’t a wife. The other part of her wondering why she cared. She’d just met the man.

“Leigha’s mother is dead.”

* * *

Andrew turned away from Dix and marched up the steps to the kitchen. He didn’t wait for her to follow. The sooner he got away from her, the better. All the old rage roiled up in his belly, threatening to take him to that dark place he’d lived in when he’d been in the hospital suffering the pain of skin grafts. All because of Jeannette and her horrible, hateful revenge.

A hand on his arm slowed him to a stop. He breathed in and out like a bull preparing for the charge, but he refused to face Dix.

“As a bodyguard, I feel like the more I know about you, Leigha and this place, the better equipped I’ll be to take care of all of you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to step over the line. I didn’t know.”

“I told you—I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Focus on Leigha. She’s the one who needs you. Not me.” He shrugged her hand off his arm.

“I’m sorry. Losing your wife is hard enough without someone dragging up the memory. You must have loved her a lot.”

Fury surged upward. Andrew was powerless to hold back. He spun, gripped Dix’s arms and shook her. “Jeannette wasn’t my wife, and I can honestly say that I hated her with every fiber of my being. Any mother who could willfully set fire to the apartment she shares with her daughter, and then stand by watching it burn with her daughter inside, is a monster. I’m glad she’s dead.” He shook her again. “Do you hear me? I might rot in hell, but I’m glad she’s dead.”

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