Delores Fossen - New Year Heroes - The Sheriff's Secretary / Veiled Intentions / Juror No. 7

Praise for the authors of

Carla Cassidy

‘This is Cassidy at her best, with a surplus of villains, lovers and possibilities. The plot is taut, the action nearly non-stop, and the romance sizzles.’

— RT Book Reviews on Enigma

Delores Fossen

‘a shoot-from-the-hip thriller laden with red herrings and sizzling romance’

— RT Book Reviews on The Cradle Files

Mallory Kane

‘If you want excitement and chills, then you want a Mallory Kane.’

—Sherrilyn Kenyon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CARLA CASSIDYis an award-winning author who has written more than one hundred books for Mills & Boon.

Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.

It had been easier than he’d expected. He drew a deep breath to calm the rush of adrenaline he’d sustained for the past hour and a half.

As the adrenaline eased, a new sense of euphoria flooded his veins. He’d done it. He’d actually managed to pull it off. All the months of planning had finally paid off.

To assure himself of his success, he walked across the shack’s wooden floor and opened the slat in the door that offered him a view into the small room.

They were both still out, unconscious on the mat where he’d placed them when he’d carried them in from the boat. Billy had been easy. He probably weighed no more than fifty pounds.

Jenny had been more difficult. He’d struggled beneath her dead weight, not wanting to drop her into the gator-infested water that surrounded the shack.

They were out, but soon the drugs would wear off and they’d wake up and know they were trapped. They wouldn’t know who had taken them or why they were here. And then the fear would begin.

Although, on the outside, the shack looked as if a stiff breeze could blow it over and into the murky waters of Conja Creek, that appearance was deceiving.

He’d spent the past month making sure the small interior room was strong and secure, like a fortress, not to keep people out but rather to keep people in. It was the perfect place for, when they woke, when they began to scream for help, there would be nobody to hear them but the gators and the fish.

He checked his watch, then closed the slat with a sigh of satisfaction. They had all the basic necessities they needed to survive until he returned here. But now it was time for him to go.

Minutes later he lowered himself into his boat. It would take him nearly an hour to maneuver through the maze of waterways half-choked with vegetation.

He didn’t mind the time it would take. He’d use it to think about Sheriff Lucas Jamison, the golden boy who had it all. He tightened his hands on the boat’s steering wheel. Sheriff Lucas Jamison, the confident know-it-all, the town’s favorite son, the man who looked at him like he was nothing. Right now Lucas was the town’s favorite son, but soon he would know what it was like to be terrified.

Mariah Harrington wasn’t worried when she got home from work and found her eight-year-old son and her roommate missing. It was a gorgeous late-summer afternoon, and odds were good that Billy and Jenny had walked to the nearby park to enjoy an hour or so of outdoor fun. Jenny’s car was in the driveway, so Mariah knew they couldn’t have gone far.

She threw her keys on the kitchen table, stepped out of her navy high heels and opened the refrigerator to look for the can of soda that she’d hidden the night before in the vegetable bin. No chance Billy or Jenny would look in there. They both shared the same abhorrence for anything green and good for them.

Smiling as she carried the cold can into the living room, she thought of her son and her roommate. It was hard to believe how much an eight-year-old and a twenty-five-year-old could have in common. But in many ways Jenny was as much child as adult.

Of course, that came from being raised by an overly protective, domineering brother. Her smile fell away as she thought of Sheriff Lucas Jamison.

As the mayor’s secretary, she often found herself acting as a buffer between the hardheaded Lucas and the ineffectual mayor of Conja Creek. But it wasn’t her job that made her want to keep her distance from the handsome-as-sin sheriff.

There was a touch of judgment in his dark eyes and a command to his presence that made her think of dark days in her past—a past she’d finally managed to escape.

It had been Lucas who had approached her about renting a room to his younger sister. He’d thought Mariah would be a good influence on flighty, immature Jenny.

She popped the top of her soda and took a long swallow. She’d agreed to the idea of a roommate because financially it made sense and because the house was big enough that they could live together without being in each other’s pockets.

Jenny had moved in two months ago. Mariah had found her to be charming but lacking in confidence, thanks to too much older brother and not enough life experience. It was an added benefit that Jenny and Billy had taken so well to each other. There were a lot of young women Jenny’s age who wouldn’t want to bother with an eight-year-old boy.

Mariah unfastened her hair from the neat ponytail at the nape of her neck and slithered her hands through the thick curls to massage her scalp. Then she leaned her head back against the sofa and released a deep, weary sigh.

It had been a long day. She was not only Mayor Richard Welch’s secretary, she was also part therapist, errand runner and mommy to the man. Things were particularly hectic now with the mayoral election coming in less than three months. When Richard had won the election that had made him mayor, he’d run unopposed. This election he was facing two worthy opponents.

Checking her watch, she figured she had twenty minutes or so to sit and relax before she needed to make supper. Billy and Jenny would be back by six. They were never late for a meal.

She must have fallen asleep, for when she opened her eyes again the room held the semidarkness of late twilight. For a moment she was disoriented as to the day and time as she stared around the neat living room.

As sleep fell away, she remembered it was Friday night and she’d been waiting for Billy and Jenny to get home from the park. She checked her watch, the first faint alarm went off in her head. Almost seven. They should have been home an hour ago.

She pulled herself off the sofa and walked to the front door, trying to ignore the small niggle of worry that whispered in the back of her brain.

“They’ve been late once before,” she whispered aloud, as if the audible sound of that thought could ease her concern. The last time, they’d found a stray dog caught in some brambles in the wooded area next to the park. It had taken them hours to calm the frightened mutt and get him untangled.