Delores Fossen - Wanted

“You make it a habit to propose to strangers?”

“Not generally. But I’ll make an exception in your case.”

Lyla shook her head. “Men like you don’t even ask out women like me.”

Wyatt frowned. “Men like me and women like you?”

“Hot guys who know they’re hot,” she clarified. “Don’t you dare say you don’t know you’re hot. And I’m the opposite of hot.”

“Oh, you’re hot, all right.”

And he so wished he hadn’t blurted that out. He knew how to keep things close to the vest, and he darn sure shouldn’t be saying something like that to Lyla. Especially since it was the truth.

Wanted

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why USA TODAY bestselling author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSENfeels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

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Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Excerpt

Chapter One

Marshal Wyatt McCabe adjusted his binoculars and studied the woman. Lyla Pearson. She was leading a roan mare into the barn just behind her small ranch house, and from what he could tell, she appeared to be talking to the horse. Maybe even singing to it.

She sure didn’t look like someone on the verge of committing a felony.

Not yet anyway.

One thing was for certain—he’d never met her. If he had, Wyatt was pretty sure he would have remembered her even though there was nothing much about her that stood out.

Five foot seven or eight. Average build. Brown hair that she’d gathered into a ponytail.

She was wearing no-frills jeans and a weathered buckskin coat—practically a uniform for someone working with horses. Something he knew a little about, since he worked his own family’s ranch.

Wyatt checked his watch. A little past seven in the morning, which meant Ms. Pearson would soon change her cowgirl uniform for her job as assistant director of the San Antonio Crime Scene Unit. He had every intention of following her there, too. In fact, he didn’t intend to let her out of his sight until he figured out what the heck was going on.

He would get answers.

And those answers extended to the baby she was carrying.

There was no baby bump that he could see. Probably too early in the pregnancy for it, but Wyatt wasn’t a baby expert. However, from everything he’d read about her, Lyla had wanted a baby for years even though she was single and not in a relationship.

What Wyatt needed to know was why she’d wanted this particular baby.

She disappeared into the barn, probably to stable the mare, and when she came out, she stopped and looked around as if she sensed someone was watching her. Wyatt ducked lower behind the pile of boulders, though he figured he was hidden well enough. He’d had a lot of experience doing surveillance duty in rural settings during his six and a half years as a marshal.

The sharp January wind slapped at her, and it was cold enough that when her breath mixed with the chilly air, it created a split-second foggy haze around her face.

Still, she didn’t move.

She continued to glance around.

Even though she wasn’t a cop, she had cop’s eyes. Maybe a cop’s instincts, too, which Wyatt hoped didn’t kick in. He needed to figure out what she was up to before she even realized he was on her trail.

Finally, she moved, walking toward her house, and Wyatt was so caught up in watching her that he nearly missed the movement on the back side of the barn. It was just a blur of motion. Maybe a horse. But with everything else going on, that seemed too much to hope.

Wyatt volleyed glances between her and the barn, and he saw it again. This time, he got more than a blurry glimpse. No horse. It was a man, and he was lurking behind the barn. Wyatt watched, wondering if Lyla knew about her visitor. Maybe he was even her partner in crime.

But the man didn’t call out to her.

And she didn’t seem to notice him.

Hell.

This was not a complication he needed right now.

If the guy wasn’t her partner, then Wyatt needed to know why he was there. Because he figured someone skulking around a barn didn’t have the best of intentions. Unless he was a lawman, that is.

Wyatt took a harder look. The guy was dressed in camouflage clothing. There was no sign of a lawman’s badge, so Wyatt drew his Colt from his shoulder holster and eased onto the top of the boulders. Wyatt started hurrying toward Lyla. Anything he did right now was risky, but the risk went up a significant notch when he saw the man dart from the barn to the back of her house.

The guy was armed.

Lyla didn’t appear to be.

And worse, she was smack-dab out in the open. If this wasn’t her partner, then why was he there, and did that gun mean he was going to try to kill her? Maybe this was someone opposed to what Lyla had already set into motion, and if the man killed her, Wyatt would never know the full truth.

Plus, there were other reasons to keep her alive, and the biggest reason of all was that baby she was carrying.

“Get down!” Wyatt shouted to her.

She whirled around as Wyatt had expected her to do. And froze again. The gunman darn sure didn’t freeze. He darted out from the barn and took aim.

At Wyatt.

Wyatt dropped to the icy ground. “I’m Marshal Wyatt McCabe,” he shouted.

The guy ducked back behind the barn, but Wyatt didn’t see or hear anything to indicate he was on the run. Too bad, because if there was a gunfight, then Lyla could be caught in the cross fire. Definitely not something he wanted.

Even worse, Wyatt couldn’t call for backup. He’d checked his phone shortly after he’d parked his truck on the hidden curve of the road—not far away at all—and the whole area was a dead zone. No reception whatsoever.

“Get down!” Wyatt called out to her again.

Thankfully, this time she got moving and did as he’d ordered. Lyla landed on the dead winter grass, yards from her front porch and the safety of her house. There was nothing she could use to hide behind or for protection, and that meant Wyatt had to get to her, fast.

He levered himself up but kept as low as he could. He also kept his Colt aimed and ready. And he started running. He braced himself to dive back to the ground if necessary, but when the gunman peered out from the barn, he didn’t fire.

“Drop the gun!” Wyatt ordered.