Delores Fossen - The Mummy Mystery

Houston Sadler was a wealthy man. A billionaire. And he was accustomed to getting exactly what he wanted.

Gabrielle had seen the love in Houston’s eyes when he looked at Lucas, and that love might blind him to the fact that this was the child she’d planned and carried. This was her baby.

He showed her to her room, and it was even larger than she’d expected. There was even a crib and changing table.

“You’re exhausted,” Houston commented.

And as if it was the most normal and routine thing in the world, he took Lucas from her arms and carried him to the crib. He didn’t lay the baby down right away, but instead kissed his cheek and smiled at him.

Gabrielle could see it then—the strong resemblance. It was uncanny and unnerving just how much Lucas looked like his father. He was indeed a Sadler.

That didn’t do much to steady her nerves.

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.

DELORES FOSSEN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Blue Springs Ranch, Texas

Houston Sadler climbed down from his horse, eased off his Stetson and smacked it against his jeans to get rid of some of the dust he’d accumulated on his ride. Bear, his buckskin gelding, snorted in protest, and Houston led the horse into the stables so he could brush him down.

Neither of them got far.

“Don’t move,” someone said.

Houston didn’t have time to move, or think, before he felt the barrel of a gun jam against his back.

“Lift your hands so I can see them,” the gunman added. Or rather the gunwoman, because that was a female’s voice.

Now the question was, what the hell did she want?

“If you’re after money, there’s none in the stables, and I don’t have my wallet with me,” Houston let her know.

He lifted his hands, releasing Bear’s reins so the gelding would get out of the way. He damn sure didn’t want his horse to get hurt when he took down this would-be robber. And there were no ifs, ands or buts about it, he was going to take her down. No one got away with pulling a gun on him.

“I’m not after your money,” she spat out, as if he’d insulted her. Her voice was clogged and hoarse, and he thought he heard her sniffle.

“Are you thinking about kidnapping me?” he asked, trying another tack.

If so, she wouldn’t get far, because his ranch hands were all over the place. In fact, one could and probably would come into the stables at any moment. All of Houston’s men knew his schedule and knew he’d be at the tail end of his daily ride. At least one would likely come in and offer to groom Bear.

“I’m not here to kidnap you.” Her voice was little more than a whisper now, and she didn’t add anything else to tell him her intentions.

So, if this wasn’t about money, then it was about love or revenge. But those were the likely reasons if he was dealing with a semisane person. He could rule out love, since he hadn’t had more than a basic, no-strings-attached sexual relationship with a woman since his wife died three years ago.

That left revenge.

And if that was the case, then she probably intended to kill him. Or at least try.

“Do I know you?” he asked. Houston angled his head just slightly and looked over his shoulder. Then he cursed.

Oh, yeah. He knew her.

“Gabrielle Markham,” Houston grumbled, and turned to face her.

He also dropped his hands. His mouth dropped open, too. She was the last person he expected to see in his stables with a gun on him. But he rethought that.

The last time they’d crossed paths was … what?… a year ago? Maybe longer. She’d been dressed in a dove-gray business suit in the Bexar County courthouse, where she’d tried to sue his jeans off on behalf of her client, who also happened to be her brother, Jay.

She’d lost the case. Or rather, it’d been dismissed for lack of evidence.

Which meant Houston was back to the revenge motive, even though this was a pretty extreme measure for someone sour over losing a legal battle. People lost legal battles to him all the time.

Houston stared at her, trying to make sense of this situation and her. She certainly wasn’t wearing a business suit today. Khaki pants and a pale pink shirt that was bulky and loose. She was also pale, no makeup, and the whites of her brown eyes were red.

She’d been crying, all right.

Her short, blond hair was spiky and uncombed, and it didn’t look as if she’d done it to make a fashion statement. The cool October breeze rustled through it, messing it up even more than it already was.

“What happened?” Houston wasn’t just alarmed now, he was concerned. Not so much for the woman who was holding him at gunpoint, but for whatever had driven her to come out to the Blue Springs ranch and commit a felony.

Gabrielle cleared her throat. “You tell me what happened. I want answers, and I want them now.”

He gave her a flat look. “You took the words right out of my mouth. Since I’m the one at gunpoint, I think I deserve an answer or two.”

Those teary brown eyes narrowed. “Don’t play games with me, Houston Sadler. You might have half the money in Texas, but I won’t let you get away with this. Why did you do it? Why? “

Houston shrugged and tried to stay calm. Hard to do with that gun on him. “Because your brother was wrong to try to sue me, that’s why. He was fired for a legitimate reason. Because he abused one of the cutting mares. Jay’s damn lucky I didn’t go after him the way he did that mare. Instead of beating him senseless, I fired his sorry butt. There was no wrongful dismissal involved. End of story.”

Gabrielle shook her head. “This doesn’t have anything to do with my brother.” She paused, blinked. “Does it? Did you do this to get back at him by using me?”

Houston huffed. He was tired of these nonsense questions and having a Saturday-night special aimed at him.

He made sure Bear was out of the way first. The gelding was. So he lowered his head and dove right at Gabrielle. He didn’t hit her with his full weight, and cursed himself for being a gentleman at a time like this.

They landed hard, against the stable wall, and her hand smacked right into his groin. She probably hadn’t planned to do that, but it worked. Houston saw stars and growled in pain. He also grabbed her hands, pinning them to the wall so she couldn’t fire that gun.

Gabrielle fought back. No surprise there. Houston hadn’t expected her to give up without a struggle.

He maneuvered his body so that he held her in place. It wasn’t that hard to do. She was five-four, if that, and her feeble attempts to hit him landed like weak thuds on his chest. She was what his father would have called a “pretty little thing.” Houston figured he could add “desperate” to that particular description.

“Now, tell me why you’re here,” he insisted. “And I’m not giving you another chance. Talk now, or I yell for my ranch foreman. He’ll come running, then call the sheriff, who’ll haul your butt off to jail. Got that?”