Conard County Protector Read online

  He looked at her, getting ready to apologize, but the expression on her face silenced him.

  Seeing his yearning reflected in Lynn’s gaze almost tipped Jax over the edge, into drawing her close, into stroking her, into learning her curves...

  Then she saved him from himself by turning quickly away. He stared at her back, hoping that accidental touch hadn’t offended her.

  When she spoke, her voice sounded a bit husky. “I’ll ask the boys about it. I doubt they did it, but they could have some idea of who might have.”

  He cleared his throat. “Good idea.” But all he could feel was the precipice he hovered on, and the desire to carry her over it with him. With difficulty, he banked his internal fire.

  This woman deserved better than a short-term tumble in the hay. She was a long-term type of woman.

  No way could he be that for her, especially when his own ideas of marriage were so polluted by his past. He couldn’t trust himself.

  Dear Reader,

  Writing this book turned out to be especially enjoyable in some ways. It’s not often that I get to delve into family relationships, and this family was particularly fun.

  Regardless, many of us have a family member who turns up drunk at Thanksgiving (or other holiday) and we hope that they fall into a drunken stupor on the couch before anything embarrassing or awful is said.

  Well, there’s no family member like that in this one, but there is a relative who causes a lot of problems out of jealousy. Even he was fun to write.

  Then there is the other, a stranger who intends murder. I hope none of us meets someone like that.

  Rachel Lee

  CONARD COUNTY PROTECTOR

  Rachel Lee

  Rachel Lee was hooked on writing by the age of twelve and practiced her craft as she moved from place to place all over the United States. This New York Times bestselling author now resides in Florida and has the joy of writing full-time.

  Books by Rachel Lee

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Conard County: The Next Generation

  Snowstorm Confessions

  Undercover Hunter

  Playing with Fire

  Conard County Witness

  A Secret in Conard County

  A Conard County Spy

  Conard County Marine

  Undercover in Conard County

  Conard County Revenge

  Conard County Watch

  Stalked in Conard County

  Hunted in Conard County

  Conard County Conspiracy

  Conard County Protector

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  For my wonderful family

  Contents

  Prologue

  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

  Excerpt from Hotshot Hero on the Edge by Lisa Childs

  Prologue

  “Guilty.”

  In a hearing room, the General Court Martial has concluded. The judge announces the verdict of the five jurors, a unanimous decision of Guilty.

  It is the only word the defendant hears. It rolls through him like deafening thunder. He knows what it means: he has been convicted of war crimes, to be stripped of his rank, his time in grade, any future retirement. He will go to prison.

  He stands at attention, outwardly accepting the judgment. As he is taken away, he looks at his sister, standing straight in her Marine uniform. He sees his own fury reflected in her eyes.

  The defendant believes he has done nothing wrong. It was war, after all. He was just doing his job.

  An unjust verdict.

  It should have been Not Guilty.

  Chapter 1

  Jasmine and Adam Ryder’s wedding reception in the Conard City Park had become quite an affair. White fairy lights had been strung among the autumn trees, placed by neighbors and friends far beyond the number of strands originally planned by the bridal pair. They cast a glow that illuminated an open grassy space and many of the wooded paths through the park. The trees had begun to don their autumn cloaks and the fairy lights brightened them from beneath as the evening took over from daylight.

  Long folding tables groaned beneath food as potluck dishes were added to the original offerings of sandwiches, sliced cheeses and crackers. Plastic flutes glimmered golden with champagne, poured from magnums, and bottles of beer poked out from ice chests. Stacks of paper plates had been replaced by blue plastic with matching utensils.

  Voices filled with laughter and happiness nearly drowned the brass quartet from the community college.

  The bride, dressed in a white wool dress, had shed her short veil and donned a thick white wool shawl, her black hair and blue eyes gleaming. She gazed around at the magical setting and murmured, “Wow.” Then Jazz Ryder looked at her new husband, Adam.

  “Wow,” he agreed, taking it all in.

  His best man, Master Gunnery Sergeant Jackson Stone, stood beside him. Dressed in his Marine Corps blues, Jackson, or Jax as he was familiarly known, had been glad to fly across the continent for this wedding. Adam had been his only real friend here since early childhood.

  “I guess,” said Jax, “that I won’t have to make one of those ridiculous speeches.”

  Jazz laughed. “At least you don’t have to recall any of Adam’s funny moments from years ago.”

  The three of them, along with the bride’s identical twin sister, Lily, had already made a joke about the similarity of their nicknames: Jazz and Jax.

  The ad hoc gathering had mostly ignored any idea of formal clothing, except for a few in their Sunday best. The rest unapologetically wore jeans and boots.

  As the evening chill descended, no one seemed to care. What had started as a small reception had turned into a huge party, the kind of event Conard City enjoyed.

  Jax watched the bride and bridegroom begin to move among the crowd, greeting everyone they could, thanking them for this outpouring. Then he eased to a quiet area, aware that his uniform stood out, and he didn’t want to draw attention away from the couple. This was their night.

  He didn’t stand alone for long. “Hello, Jackson.”

  He turned his head, looking down at a small elderly woman who held the leash of a harlequin Great Dane that seemed almost as large as she was. An odd pairing.

  “I don’t suppose you remember me,” she said. “I’m Edith Jasper.”

  His memory of her surfaced. “Miss Jasper! You taught senior English.”

  The woman’s smile broadened. “I think you’re old enough to call me Edith now. You were so quiet. I always wished you’d speak up because you were one of my best students.”

  Jax didn’t know how to answer, especially because he’d had no idea.

  Edith patted his arm. “You’ve come a long way. Now meet my dog Bailey.”

  Jax held out his hand, palm up. Bailey sniffed, then seemed to grin. “Big, isn’t he?” He hardly had to bend to stroke the huge dog’s head.

  “People keep expecting him to knock me over or drag me, but he’s a good boy. He’s always known my limits. A
nyway, it’s nice to see you again. Now get out there and meet more people who remember you.”

  He doubted many of them remembered him at all. He scanned the crowd casually, wondering how Adam was taking all of this. Adam had confided that after three tours in Afghanistan he’d come home with some PTSD and couldn’t stand to be in crowded places for long. Cities could be torture for him, although this one boasted a population of only around five thousand. Small in some places, but large enough in Wyoming, where the biggest city had a little over sixty thousand residents.

  Jax wasn’t aware of any PTSD on his part, but that might not mean anything. Experience in the Corps had taught him how to master his mind so, while the threat might be lurking somewhere inside him, he didn’t know it. But then he hadn’t been wounded like Adam.

  “Hello, Jackson,” said a redheaded woman as she approached. She wore a silky green dress that slithered over her ample curves.

  She clearly remembered him, but he couldn’t place her. She appeared to be about his age.

  “We nearly dated in high school.”

  Dated? Astonishment filled him. He’d never come close to dating in high school but instead had avoided it. Not that anyone had expressed interest back then. “Nearly?” he repeated.

  She pursed her brightly lipsticked mouth. “Well, you used to smile at me across the classroom. You liked me then. I’m Madge Kearny, remember?”

  Jax racked his brains. “It’s been a long time...”

  She laughed flirtatiously. “Too long. You went and joined the Marines before anything could happen between us. You...”

  She was interrupted by another woman, one with thick, long auburn hair and bright green eyes, dressed in a gray slacks suit. She was smiling and said, “Now, Madge, let Jackson get his feet under him.” She turned to Jax. “I hear you’re staying for a little while.”

  “Thinking about it.” Carefully neutral. Women were drawn to this uniform like flies to honey. He didn’t credit himself with any of their attraction.

  “You see, Madge?” the woman said. “You’ll have plenty of time to get reacquainted. Isn’t that Joe over there looking for you?”

  Madge scowled at her and flounced away.

  The woman laughed quietly. “Always on the hunt, that one. Hi, I’m Lynn Macy. You won’t remember me, but I was three years behind you in school. You and Adam were close, as I recall.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m sure he’s very glad you were able to come.” Her smile grew gentle. “Trust your own memory. I bet a lot of people would like to claim you as a buddy now.”

  Then she moved off into the crowd, leaving him feeling uncomfortable in a whole different way from Madge. He kind of liked it.

  * * *

  Lynn glanced over at Jackson Stone while she fell into conversation with Judge Wyatt Carter and his father, Earl. The two of them had played a big part in helping her keep the house her late husband, Matt, had willed to her.

  My, Jackson had changed, she thought. From diffident, introverted string bean to a well-filled-out man who stood confidently. The years away had served him well in that regard. And although she hadn’t known him directly, being three years younger, everyone knew of everyone.

  A group of men over by some trees began to sing a bawdy song. Drunk, Lynn thought. Then she heard a gravelly voice behind her.

  “I hope I don’t have to get official tonight.”

  Lynn recognized the voice immediately. Sheriff Gage Dalton. She turned, smiling, and saw that his redheaded wife, Emma, had her arm through his.

  Emma shook her head. “This guy never gets a night off. Come on, Gage. There are enough deputies around here tonight to handle drunkenness.”

  It was true, Lynn thought. Quite a few of them, in street clothes, were enjoying the party, and it wasn’t as if Gage would have to stand in himself. “I’m voting with Emma,” she said.

  “Me, too,” both Carters said in unison.

  Gage shook his head, the burn scar on his cheek making his smile a bit lopsided. “I’m being ganged up on.”

  “Your wife would like you to take a night off,” Emma said on a laugh. “Come on, Gage. The judge has ruled.”

  That caused Wyatt Carter to grin. “Yeah,” he said. “Ruling from the bench.”

  As the Daltons walked away, Earl Carter, a plump lawyer, leaned toward her. “Is Luke leaving you alone?”

  Luke was her late husband’s brother-in-law. “He stops by once in a while. I know he’s unhappy with the legal decision.”

  “Damn,” said Earl. “It’s not your fault Luke and Matt’s father left the house to Matt. As I recall, Jed Macy had his own good reasons for that will. Loose cannon, that boy Luke.”

  “Dad,” Judge Carter said. “This is supposed to be a happy night. Don’t go reminding Lynn of bad things.”

  Lynn spoke again. “It’s okay, Wyatt. You two helped a lot. I can deal with Luke’s resentment.”

  And she could, even if she suspected Luke would like her to fall off her roof while she was repairing shingles.

  Well, he’d never hurt her. Too much of a coward.

  She moved along, speaking to friends and acquaintances she’d known during her entire life in Conard County. It was a great gathering.

  * * *

  When Lynn arrived back at her house, she noticed the lights showing from the second floor of her house. Her college roomers seemed to be burning the midnight oil. Probably upcoming exams.

  She stepped through her front door, hearing dueling music from above. Apparently, they’d taken advantage of her absence to turn up the volume. Amused, she moved to the dining room to look once again at the list of remodeling items she planned to buy soon.

  This project was more than Matt’s legacy. Remodeling and repairing this house had become her most enjoyable activity. Matt’s father had let it run down, and when he died, Matt had been in the Army, unable to do much about it.

  Lynn had tinkered with things while Matt was away but hadn’t wanted to make major changes until he approved. Now it was her project alone and she felt as if she were spreading her wings, finding new interests and new things she loved to do. Even a few years ago she couldn’t have imagined herself taping and mudding drywall, revising the house’s layout and handling a circular saw with the ease of familiarity. Or painting a three-story house, her biggest project to date.

  Now the four upstairs bedrooms took roomers comfortably and her own apartment was complete. Her next project would be dealing with the water damage in the living room, a bad surprise when she’d ditched all the ancient furniture.

  Pleased with her steady progress, she climbed the two flights of stairs to her own apartment in the attic. She’d turned the overhead trapdoor into a stairway, one she’d built herself specifically for this purpose with a door at the bottom.

  As she flipped on the lights, she looked around, loving the warmth she’d created in the large attic. What a discovery it had been when she’d finally explored what she had thought of as storage space.

  All the walls and high-peaked ceiling were covered with gleaming wood that she’d stained and polished; the floors were built of wider wooden planking to match. Two full-size windows graced the ends of the attic, allowing plenty of light to enter.

  She’d turned it into her own studio apartment with a bath in one corner, a small kitchenette under the back window and her bed in a corner. She’d discovered comfy chairs and ottomans discarded up here, but bright yellow upholstery and some new springs had fixed them up as good as new. Colorful rag rugs dotted the floor.

  She wouldn’t have changed anything about it now even if she’d initially been uneasy about her decisions. Matt would have loved it, too, she was certain.

  Its only problem was that it could get chilly in the winter, and she’d dealt with that by installing an electric fireplace that added to the coziness on co
ld nights.

  She showered quickly—at least the three boys below had left her enough hot water—donned her flannel pajamas and crawled into bed with a good book on her tablet.

  She felt sorry for Jackson Stone, though. He’d been a standout at the reception and she wondered how many people would now claim to be his long-lost friends.

  Of which he’d had none back when he’d lived here. Despite how confident he appeared now, perhaps his personality hadn’t changed that much, considering how he’d stood aside at the reception.

  But dang, he was sure an attractive man.

  Chapter 2

  The fire at the La-Z-Rest Motel started around 2:00 a.m. A smoke detector squealed a shrill, nearly deafening, alarm.

  With flames licking two walls of his room, Jax managed to pull on his camos, grab his laptop and his Marine blues, which hung in a garment bag. With them and his desert boots in hand, he raced out into the chilly night to join the other guests who gathered across the highway to watch the burgeoning conflagration. A crowd grew as truckers left their rigs to gawk, too.

  He laid down his laptop and suit bag so he could jam his feet into his boots and tie them. Then he stood and watched for a few minutes with the others as fire trucks arrived and tried to put out the blaze. The old motel appeared to have been built from wood that had grown tinder-dry over the years, and the fire had taken over the whole building.

  Someone was watching everything they’d worked for going up in flames. He had no desire to rubberneck a tragedy.

  While the firefighters began to work, he turned and headed into the truck stop diner. Engines growled all around him as he opened the door and stepped in to be greeted by delicious aromas.

  “You okay?” asked the grillman, a lean, tall man of middle years. Over his white T-shirt and jeans he wore a denim apron, and on his head a white baseball cap. “That fire...”

  “I’m all right. I hope everyone else is.”

  “Yeah, it’s bad. Well, there’s just me here tonight, and I suppose a lot of hungry people are going to show up shortly, so before I get rushed, what’ll it be? Coffee’s fresh, menu’s limited at this hour.”