Margaret Daley - Lone Star Christmas Rescue

IDENTITY UNKNOWN

A baby’s frantic cries lead Texas Ranger Drake Jackson to an injured woman in Big Bend Park, the infant by her side. But “Kay” has no idea who she is or what happened. All she seems sure of is that she’s in terrible danger. When someone comes after her—determined to snatch the child—Drake takes her and little Kaleb to his family’s ranch to protect them. But with the attackers circling closer as Christmas approaches, the guarded ranger knows they won’t be safe there for long. Vowing to uncover her identity and catch her attacker, Drake plans to give mother and child the holiday they deserve...safe by his side forever.

“Shh,” Kay whispered to the baby.

She started moving again, not sure which way to go.

A noise to the right startled her. The play of light and dark in the woods confused her. Was she still moving away from her assailant?

Then a large shadow stepped out from behind a tree, and she ran into a solid, muscular body.

He gripped her arms with an ironclad hold. When she yelled for help, baby Kaleb bawled. Her assailant yanked on Kaleb, but he was secured against her in the baby carrier. The brute jerked harder.

As they struggled, Kay kicked the man’s shin. He couldn’t take her child. She poured all her energy into protecting Kaleb.

When she scanned the darkness surrounding her, she suddenly didn’t see her assailant.

“Kay, I’m here!” Drake shouted. “Are y’all okay?”

All the tension in her body siphoned from her. Now she was. “Yes.”

Drake clicked on a flashlight and swept the area with the bright beam, then stepped next to her. “He’s gone. You and the baby are safe now.”

For now.

Dear Reader,

Can you imagine waking up one day and you can’t even recall your name? It would totally shake up your life from dealing with large issues to small ones. I think we tend to take for granted who we are and our memories. But what if all that was taken away from you?

In Lone Star Christmas Rescue, I explore what happens to a person when she doesn’t remember who she is. Our personalities are formed by our past. Our experiences shape who we are. When Kay’s memory is wiped away, she has to struggle to find herself. She doesn’t know who to trust or how she ended up with amnesia. Even when she begins to remember bits and pieces of her previous life, she doesn’t know if she will ever remember everything.

I love hearing from readers. You can contact me at margaretdaley@gmail.com or at P. O. Box 2074, Tulsa, OK 74101. You can also learn more about my books at http://www.margaretdaley.com. I have a monthly newsletter that you can sign up for on my website.

Best wishes,

Margaret

MARGARET DALEY, an award-winning author of ninety books (five million sold worldwide), has been married for over forty years and is a firm believer in romance and love. When she isn’t traveling, she’s writing love stories, often with a suspense thread, and corralling her three cats, who think they rule her household. To find out more about Margaret, visit her website at margaretdaley.com.

Lone Star Christmas Rescue

Margaret Daley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; For You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me.

—Psalms 23:4

To my granddaughters

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

Extract

Copyright

ONE

Texas Ranger Drake Jackson hiked to the edge of the cliff and stared at the raw beauty stretching out before him. Not far away was the Rio Grande and Mexico. The case he’d been assigned involved a human smuggling ring that worked both ways—trafficking people both into and out of the United States. One of their corridors had recently been rumored to be along this part of the border in his territory, but every time the task force got close, someone ended up dead and the route disappeared.

If only they could catch a break.

A vision of his younger sister materialized in his mind. Smiling. Laughing at something he’d said. But that was fifteen years ago, before she vanished without a trace. At that time, he’d been a Texas highway patrol officer and had taken vacation days to work the case. But he could never find her. In his gut, and based on the evidence he’d gathered, Drake knew she’d become a victim of a human trafficking ring. Even now, he and his family lived in limbo concerning Beth.

He shook the image from his thoughts. He might not be able to bring Beth back, but he was determined to stop others from ending up like her. He knew firsthand what it was like for a family to have no resolution for a loved one’s fate.

With a sigh, he turned away from the cliff’s edge. A faint cry from below caught his attention. A wounded animal? Again, the sound drifted to him. A cat—cougar?

He lifted his binoculars and scanned Big Bend National Park’s rugged terrain below for the source of the noise. The cries grew to wails, allowing him to home in on the source. He sucked in a sharp breath. Nestled between large boulders sat a baby, tugging on the shirt of a woman sprawled on the ground. The location was an odd place for anyone to be. Quickly he checked the surrounding area. He didn’t see anyone nearby. Returning his attention to the lady, he noticed she wasn’t moving or reacting to the crying baby next to her. Something was wrong.

He shrugged off his backpack and dug into it for the rope and gear he used for rappelling. It would take two or three times longer for him to hike down to the canyon. If the woman was injured, she might need help right away. After putting in his anchors, setting up his rigging and double-checking all the equipment, Drake stepped off the cliff with his backpack. Facing the rock facade, he walked down it at a sixty-degree angle.

The baby’s continuous bawling urged him to move as fast as he could. Drake kept looking over his shoulder at the pair below. When his feet hit the bottom, he unhooked himself, then hurried the few yards to the woman and child. By the time he reached them, the little boy’s face was beet red, tears running down his cheeks. Dressed in jeans, a dirty long-sleeved white shirt and tennis shoes, the lady beside the child appeared as though she was taking a nap—no obvious signs of an injury.

Drake knelt next to the child and stroked his hand up and down the baby’s back. “Shh. I’m here to help,” he said in a soft voice and removed a water bottle to offer the little boy a few sips.

As he continued to pat the child, he turned his attention to the woman, relieved to see her chest rising and falling with each breath. When he felt for her pulse on the side of her neck, its racing beat didn’t surprise him.