Harper Allen - Guarding Jane Doe

Quinn stared at her. “And if I think you’ve finally told me the truth I’ll go to the wall for you.”

There was no mistaking the unwavering conviction in Quinn McGuire’s words.

“Why?” Jane whispered. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because that’s what having a bodyguard means, up to and including dying for you, if that’s what it takes. But you have to be straight with me. What is it you’re hiding?”

Jane gazed at the impassively silent man in front of her.

He’d just said he’d die for her. Even though she couldn’t remember her past life, she knew no one had ever made such a vow to her before. And all he asked in return was her trust. She shook her head, her expression tortured. Would Quinn still go to the wall for her, when he learned her most closely guarded secret?

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Welcome again to another action-packed month of exceptional romantic suspense. We are especially pleased to bring you the first of a trilogy of new books from Rebecca York’s 43 LIGHT STREET series. You’ve loved this author and her stories for years…and—you ain’t seen nothin’ yet! The MINE TO KEEP stories kick off this month with The Man from Texas. Danger lurks around every corner for these heroes and heroines, but there’s no threat too great when you have the one you love by your side.

The EDEN’S CHILDREN miniseries by Amanda Stevens continues with The Tempted. A frantic mother will fight the devil himself to find her little girl, but she’ll have to face a more formidable foe first—the child’s secret father.

Adrianne Lee contributes a terrific twin tale to the DOUBLE EXPOSURE promotion. Look for His Only Desire and see what happens when a stalker sees double!

Finally, Harper Allen takes you on a journey of the heart in her powerful two-book miniseries, THE AVENGERS. Guarding Jane Doe is a profound story about a soldier for hire and a woman in desperate need of his services. What they find together is everlasting love the likes of which is rarely—if ever—seen.

So join us once again for a fantastic reading experience.

Enjoy!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Guarding Jane Doe

Harper Allen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Harper Allen lives in the country in the middle of a hundred acres of maple trees with her husband, Wayne, six cats, four dogs—and a very nervous cockatiel at the bottom of the food chain. For excitement she and Wayne drive to the nearest village and buy jumbo bags of pet food. She believes in love at first sight because it happened to her.

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

468—THE MAN THAT GOT AWAY

547—TWICE TEMPTED

599—WOMAN MOST WANTED

628—GUARDING JANE DOE

Jane Smith—Even if a bodyguard can protect her from a murderer, she fears that no one can save her from her shadowy past.

Quinn McGuire—Soldier for hire and sometime bodyguard, he’s haunted by the ghosts of his past.

Carla Kozlikov and Gary Crowe—Jane’s neighbors—has their friendship with her put them in danger?

Terry Sullivan—He knows Quinn better than anyone—and he’s powerless to help him.

Donny Fitzgerald—The police detective was once Quinn’s friend, but he can’t allow that to interfere with his investigation.

Jennifer Tarranova—Fitzgerald’s partner, she’s almost sure she’s met Jane before…under very different circumstances.

Sister Bertille—The nun saved Quinn’s life once—and it’s time she called in his debt to her.

To Brian Henry.

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Epilogue

If he hadn’t received the letter from the dead woman that day, Quinn McGuire would never have heard of Jane Smith. He’d been about to leave his apartment to make a secure phone call from the pizza joint down the street, and if the man he’d been planning to call had mentioned the right figure, Quinn would have been catching a night flight out of Boston and the country within hours. But just as he’d shrugged into his ancient leather jacket a hesitant knock sounded at his door and a quavery old voice called out his name.

“Mr. McGuire? It’s Agnes Lavery from downstairs. I’ve got some mail for you.”

Quinn knew he hadn’t left anything incriminating lying about—he never did. But even as he unlocked the apartment door and slid back the heavy-duty dead bolts he’d installed himself when he’d moved in here several years ago, he scanned the room behind him with the caution that was second nature to him.

There were a few reasons why he’d stayed alive for thirty-one years, he thought wryly as he noted the innocuous china mug on the kitchen counter and the half-folded morning paper littering the surface of the table against the wall. They were simple reasons, and easy to remember.

Don’t trust anything. Don’t trust anyone. Watch your back.

But a seventy-two-year-old woman probably wasn’t going to pull a fast one on him, he thought. He unfastened the forged-steel security chain and turned off the alarm sensor. Of course, Paddy Doyle must have been thinking something similar in the split second before that crazy rebel assassin opened the large black bag that had been part of his disguise and had pulled out a weapon big enough to blow even a tough and lucky Irishman like Paddy away for good.

Quinn blinked. For the life of him he couldn’t recall what country or what war that had been. All he could remember was Paddy, his chest torn apart and the life leaking out of him on that dusty street, his blue eyes fading as Quinn held him, and that sweet smile that had driven women wild on five continents lifting the corners of his mouth one last time.

“Another wild goose, boyo,” he’d whispered. Blood so dark it seemed black had welled up and mottled his lips as he gasped his last breath. “Look for me flying home with the rest of them, will you?”

And the moral of that story was that luck was a bitch, Quinn thought abruptly. Entirely. As soon as some poor bastard started depending on her, she’d be sure to shaft him. He opened the door and smiled down at the frail old lady standing there.

“You’re a complete saint, Mrs. Lavery, you are.” He allowed a little more brogue than usual to creep into his voice as he held out his hand for the flimsy airmail weight envelope. He shook his head. “With all the gadding about I do for the head office, it’s a real favor for you to let me use your address. That’s the first thing thieves look for—uncollected letters in a mailbox. And how’s Mr. L. today?”