Delores Fossen - Secret Delivery

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Cover Page

Title Page Secret Delivery Delores Fossen www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author 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 Texas author and former air force captain Delores Fossen feels 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.

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

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Copyright

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 Texas 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.

Willow Ridge, Texas

Sheriff Jack Whitley figured he had three minutes, maybe less, to save the woman’s life.

He slammed on his brakes, and his Ford pickup skidded to a stop just inches from what was left of the bridge’s ice-scabbed guardrail. Seconds earlier, a car had broken through the metal and plunged over the side. Since he’d been traveling from the opposite direction, he’d caught just a glimpse of terror on the driver’s face before Mill’s Creek had swallowed her and her car.

There was no time to remove his gun or shoes. No time to call for help. He grabbed the life hammer from his glove compartment, barreled out of his truck and, running, he dived right into the cold dark water.

Hell. He couldn’t see. The creek was thick with winter silt that concealed just about everything, but he went on instinct. At the speed the woman was traveling when she slammed through the guardrail, she was probably thirty, maybe forty feet out. He surfaced only long enough to drag in a deep breath so he could go down after her again.

Seconds ticked off in his head, each one a frantic reminder that he had to get to her. He had to save her. Now. No one, not even he, could last long in this frozen water.

He ignored the numbing cold that was starting to smother him and focused, finally spotting her black Lexus angled nose-down with the headlights and front fender already sinking into the clots of mud on the creek floor.

Jack fought through the water to get to her. She was there, behind the steering wheel, her light-colored coat billowing around her like a ghost. Her eyes were closed. Maybe she was unconscious.

Or already dead.

He pushed that possibility aside and latched on to the door handle. It was jammed.

Cursing to himself, he bashed the life hammer against the window. The sharp metal head of the emergency tool made a large enough hole so he could reach in, open the door and undo her seat belt.

The woman spilled into his arms.

He grabbed her and began to haul her to the surface. Each inch was a struggle. His lungs burned now, and his muscles began to knot. Somehow, though, he broke through the water and breathed in some much needed air, while the woman lay limp and lifeless in his arms.

Jack dragged her to the muddy embankment, tilted back her head and started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He literally gave her what little breath he had left.

Her eyes fluttered open. She coughed. And Jack said a very sincere prayer of thanks.

“We got lucky,” he gasped.

She opened her mouth, but didn’t speak. Her starkblue eyes widened, and the sound she made was one of raw agony.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Jack asked.

She didn’t answer. She fought with her coat, shoving it open and clamping her hands over her belly.

Jack saw then that she was pregnant. She had to be in her last trimester.

“Help me. I’m in trouble.” She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears, her face twisted in pain. “Please. Don’t let my baby die.”

Her words slammed into him. They’d dodged one bullet, but another was headed right at them.

Jack scooped her into his arms and ran like hell toward his truck.

Eight months later

Alana Davis checked the rearview mirror again. The dark-colored car was still following her. “Oh, God,” she mumbled.

It couldn’t be the security guard. It just couldn’t be. Because if he’d managed to catch up with her, Alana figured this time he would kill her.

She couldn’t stop, not even to find a pay phone and call the police. Not that there’d been a pay phone any where along the way from the secluded house in the woods where she’d been held captive. Nor was there one along the highway that had taken her nearly an hour to find. Luckily, the car she’d stolen from the front of the house had nearly a full tank of gas.

And thankfully, she’d seen the sign to the town of Willow Ridge.

The guard and a nurse had force-fed her a partial dose of sedatives only hours earlier, so it’d taken Alana a while to fight through dizziness and make the connection. Willow Ridge was just one of those floating memories that she couldn’t immediately link to anything or anyone. But then she remembered Jack Whitley, the town’s sheriff. He’d helped her.

She couldn’t remember what he’d done exactly, but she instinctively knew she could trust him.

Alana couldn’t say that about anyone else.

She certainly couldn’t trust the guard or nurse. Or her brother. In fact, one of them must have been responsible for her captivity.

But which one?

And why?

She didn’t know the answer to either question, but Jack Whitley would be able to find out.

Lightning rifled through the night sky. A few seconds later, thunder came, a thick rumbling groan. Shivering, she made the final turn that would take her to Willow Ridge. Even with the rain and her spotty vision, she could see the other vehicle make the turn right along behind her. He stayed close. Too close.

Alana added some pressure to the accelerator and sped through deep puddles that had already collected on the road. The car’s wipers slashed over the windshield, smearing the rain on the glass so it was even harder for her to see. Her pulse raced out of control.