Bridal Falls Ranch Ransom

Former FBI agent J.P. Ryker was hired by reclusive Idaho ranch owner Eve Brooks after a kidnapper threatened her for the second time in a year. He is determined to keep his new boss safe, even if he only catches glimpses of the mystery woman through heavily curtained windows. But when the threats to Eve's life become more deadly, J.P. convinces Eve to let him see her face-to-face. One look and J.P. knows all of Eve's secrets…and can't resist the once-famous beauty who hasn't been seen in public in months. With every reason to protect her and few clues about who is after her, J.P. is the only one she seems to trust. A trust he knows will be shattered when she discovers his connection to her tragic past….

The kidnapper's call was seven minutes late.

Eve Brooks glanced at her Rolex in the glare of her headlights for the third time in less than ten minutes.

She pulled a deep breath into her lungs and tried to remain calm. She'd parked at the precise angle the kidnapper had requested, followed his every instruction in the ransom note she'd found under her wiper blade the same day he'd been taken. So why hadn't he called yet?

Frustrated, she shoved her hands into her coat pockets. Nervous tension turned to moisture on her palms as she clenched and unclenched her fists.

"He'll call," she whispered.

If he wants the ransom money, he'll call.

Cool night air seeped through her coat and raised chill bumps on her skin. She shivered, caught up in the involuntary response that quickly turned to speculation.

Maybe Thomas was already dead? Murdered by the brazen kidnapper who 'd taken him at gunpoint from the parking garage in full view of a security camera?

A low mechanical stutter dragged her gaze to the west. She heard a rumble she recognized as air brakes on a big rig. Welcoming the distraction, she stared at its two pinpricks of light in the distance, watching the semi crest a shallow rise in the endless ribbon of asphalt she'd used to find this godforsaken rest stop in the desert above Los Angeles—

The rasp of the telephone ringing cut through her thoughts.

In one heart-stopping motion she yanked the pay phone's receiver from its cradle before it could ring a second time and pulled it to her ear.

"Yes. I'm here."

"Listen carefully. I'm only going to say this once." The kidnapper's disguised voice modulated over the phone connection. "Leave the receiver off the hook. Take the money and walk straight out into the desert. Stay in between your headlight beams. Fifty paces out you'll find a hole. Put the case in the hole and cover it with the dirt piled beside it. Come back and I'll tell you where to find him."

Dragging in an uneven breath, she willed a measure of courage into her bloodstream and straightened her spine.

"How do I know he's still alive? I want proof."

Dead airspace stretched between her and the man who'd kidnapped her business partner and soon-to-be husband, Thomas Avery, three days ago.

"Fair enough." Commotion crackled at the other end of the line, sending anticipation through her body in waves.

"Eve—"

"Thomas! Thomas, are you—"

"He's still breathing." The man's voice boomed over the connection, barely drowning out a thud in the background. Had he landed something against the side of Thomas's head to shut him up so he could reclaim the phone?

"Don't hurt him!"

"Shut up and bury the damn money!"

Like a robot operating on a battery charge of fear, she released the handset and felt a tug on her left earlobe as the receiver dropped.

A falling glimmer of gold caught in her car lights for a second before disappearing into the darkness on the ground at her feet.

Desperation needled her nerves and threatened to undo her composure. It was her earring. A gift from Thomas the day he'd proposed.

She stared down at the pea gravel but couldn't pick out the golden hoop. She'd have to find it later, after she'd followed the kidnapper's instructions. After he told her where to find Thomas. Nothing else mattered.

She turned and hurried to her car, opened the driver's side door and pressed the trunk release. It would all be over soon. Thomas would be freed. They could go back to their life together. The wedding was less than a month away. She hadn't even gotten the chance to tell him the Paris account he'd worked so hard to broker had come through the day he was taken. Her bridal gown collection would be strutted on fashion runways worldwide, thanks to him.

Emotion squeezed her throat shut as she fumbled for the case. She would give him the good news when she had him back.

Her fingers trembled as she wrapped them around the handle. She pulled the stainless steel briefcase from the trunk and closed the lid.

Half a million dollars in unmarked bills. It seemed like a pittance for a life. She couldn't screw this up. She knew full well the consequences if she didn't do exactly as she was told.

People died.

People you love died. But not this time. She'd done everything right. No cops. No questions. No witnesses. Just what he'd asked her to do.

Her doubts vanished as she made her way out into the desert, walking in a straight line, relying on the glare of the headlights to hold back the darkness and keep her on track.

The soil under her feet was soft and sandy, swallowing her steps as she moved deep into the night. The tangy scent of damp sagebrush clung to the air, but it offered little in the way of comfort.

A blue-tailed lizard darted from a clump of dry grass and scurried across the path in front of her.

Her heart jolted in her chest, drumming against her rib cage, but she fought the urge to jump back. Instead she kept moving, kept pushing forward, counting off the paces stride by stride, pounding down her fear with the beat of each number in her head.

At forty-eight she stopped.

Searching the ground two feet in front of her she saw a black hole carved out in the desert floor just where he said it would be.

Caution pricked her brain, leaving her thoughts to bleed out unchecked. This could end like her half sister Shelly's kidnapping had. In murder, obscured by a trail of unanswered questions.

Eve pulled her shoulders back and gained a measure of certainty as she stared out across the desert landscape. Was he watching from somewhere out there? Gauging her level of commitment through a set of night-vision glasses, or goggles or whatever they were called?

Well, she wasn't going to disappoint him. She wanted Thomas back. Alive.

Stepping forward, she went to her knees, put the briefcase on the ground next to the hole and shoved it in.

It clunked against the earthen bottom a couple of feet down. Using her hands, she pushed the gritty soil in, listening to it patter against the rigid case like hard rain. In a matter of minutes she'd filled the hole and smoothed the last mound of dirt over the top. She scrambled to her feet, dusted off her hands and hurried back to the phone.

Clutching the receiver, she raised it to her ear. "I buried the money like you asked. Now, where's Thomas?"

"Directions to his location are taped to the bottom of the call box." A click at the end of the line was chased by a dial tone.

Eve's heart skipped a beat as she hung up the handset and slid her open hand, palm side up, into the narrow crevice between the telephone and the metal deck underneath it.

Feeling with her fingertips, she located a piece of paper. Crushing it against her palm with her thumb, she pulled it out.

Tension locked on every nerve ending in her body as she fumbled to open the folded note. Tipping it toward the headlights, she made out the address at the heart of the crude map. 16800 Pacific Coast Highway. Storm drain two…

A glitter of gold on the ground caught her attention. Her earring? She'd almost forgotten about it.

Fisting her hand around the map so it wouldn't dissolve, she took a step forward and squatted down to pick up the hoop from its spot in the loose gravel.

The semi she'd spotted miles out was on top of her now, vibrating the earth under her feet. Headlight beams flicked across her as the truck rumbled past on the highway a stone's throw away.

"Gotcha." Eve hooked the earring with her right index finger and started to straighten.

The ear-splitting squeal of rupturing metal penetrated her awareness.

Time slowed as a brilliant flash of...