A Marshal's Promise Read online

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  PRAISE FOR DORA’S BOOKS

  COPYRIGHT

  DEDICATION

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  EPILOGUE

  BONUS PREVIEW OF A MARSHAL’S EMBRACE

  ABOUT DORA HIERS

  OTHER BOOKS BY DORA HIERS

  Praise for Dora Hiers

  “This story is a great way to get in the Christmas mood - or just to give yourself a shot of heartwarming, sweet romance, in case it's not Christmas time when you read it :-)” ~ An Avid Reader on Christmas on Mistletoe Mountain

  “Every now and then I will read a book that has me clocking extra miles on my treadmill and elliptical, A Marshal’s Secret was one of those books. From the start, I was sucked into this page-turning, suspense filled book. The chemistry between Avery Derose and Marshal Trent Burdine was off the charts!” ~ Jill Weatherholt, author of Second Chance Romance and A Father for Bella

  “I enjoyed this story quite a bit! I am married to a Fire Captain, so much of the story rang true! The stress and the heartbreak on the job, the need to have someone to come home to. The camaraderie between the crew was special as well. I also understood Cammie’s worries and concerns- about her job, about him, and about the importance of helping others become stronger, better people.” ~ Patricia on Fully Involved

  A MARSHAL’S PROMISE

  Copyright © 2019 by Dora Hiers

  Published by Grace Legacy Publishing

  Cover Art by German Creative

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either imaginary or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, events or locales is coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be copied, scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means without written permission from Dora Hiers or Grace Legacy Publishing, except for including brief quotations in reviews along with proper acknowledgement. Unauthorized duplication and/or distribution is illegal. eBook editions may not be copied, resold or given away. Please purchase only authorized editions and do not participate in the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contact information: [email protected]

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  Published by Grace Legacy Publishing, 2019

  United States of America

  Scriptures taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Dedication

  To my real life hero.

  You are the model for every one of my fictional heroes.

  I love you into eternity.

  Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation;

  the old has gone, the new has come!

  2 Corinthians 5:17

  1

  Client Evasion 101.

  She could teach that course. If she lived long enough.

  Hiding her rental car between a truck and a shaggy evergreen tree in the hotel parking lot, Wilhelmina “Willow” Berkshire huddled against the steering wheel and fumbled to find the manual switch for the headlights, determination to outsmart this creep outweighing the fear churning in her belly.

  Her gaze darted to the road in front of the hotel. No sign of him yet.

  The lights finally flickered off on their own. She slid a hand into her purse and pulled out her phone, her palm slick against the cold plastic case.

  A car slithered past, stealthy, stalking. Malcolm Brugman, this week’s client. At least she thought it was him. She’d only gotten a glimpse of him through the rear view mirror while waiting at a stoplight. Enough to exacerbate the tension growing in her gut the last few days.

  Willow held her breath, didn’t even blink until his car disappeared out of sight. But as a precaution in case he changed directions and doubled back, she waited a few extra seconds.

  She exhaled a rough, shaky breath. Looked like she’d bought some time. Was it enough to get checked in and out of sight? She couldn’t waste another second. Escaping the tight confines of the car, her legs and hands trembled as she opened the trunk.

  Her gaze glued to the road and still clutching her phone, Willow heaved her suitcase from the trunk and hoisted her laptop bag over a shoulder. She pushed the remote lock once and scurried toward the lobby, wincing at the noise her suitcase made bouncing along the pavement.

  The dampness left over from the chilly rain misted around her head and swirled about her feet. Shadows cut through the heavy fog and flickered underneath the pale glow cast by the streetlight.

  Dark. Eerie. Just like the week spent working in Brugman’s office.

  Shivering with unease, Willow glanced at the hotel sign.

  The same hotel where Gunner said he’d be staying tonight. The same hotel—

  Her pulse kicked up a notch. Which made her temper flare. Not that she had any plans to see him. She’d only tortured herself by working late so she wouldn’t have to leave her daughter to fly back to Charlotte again next week. Right? Willow nodded once, her neck stiff with tension.

  Why was she thinking about Gunner Chapel now anyway? She hadn’t thought of him in…what? Two days? Not since his totally off-the-radar phone message. Yeah, well, that apology came about ten years too late, buddy.

  Did he really think she’d come running to accept his in person apology? Why hadn’t she changed her cell phone number when she moved? She should have tied up that loose end and knotted it tight. If she had, she wouldn’t be dreaming about the magical evening they spent here—

  A car engine rattled. Quickening her pace across the parking lot, she wrenched her neck over a shoulder. A van. Not Brugman. She blew out a breath and bunched her sweater tighter, her nerves unsettled, palms damp with fear.

  What was wrong with her? She’d audited plenty of fraud cases. Where was her backbone tonight? Chalk it up to the week spent with Brugman. The guy gave her the creeps, always looking over her shoulder and following her around the office, asking questions. She still couldn’t shake the threatening look on his face during their exit conference. She shuddered.

  Okay. Maybe she could admit that she felt a teensy bit safer knowing Gunner was here. After all, the man carried a gun, wore a badge. Not that it mattered. She didn’t intend to see him.

  Willow tugged open the door and stepped into the hotel lobby. The warmth settled around her shoulders like a blanket and the tension seeped from her taut muscles slightly. She wouldn’t really feel safe until she turned the deadbolt in her room.

  “I need a room for tonight, please.” For mercy’s sake! Was that croak hers? Good thing she’d called Tessa earlier. Before the fear stole her voice.

  “Certainly.”

  Wil
low turned around from the counter to stare outside at the murky darkness beyond the glass door while the clerk located a room on his computer.

  Nothing.

  She shook her head slightly, disgusted with herself. Yep. Paranoid. That’s what she was. This whole nightmare was probably a figment of her imagination because she was just plain exhausted from working late every night, stressed over the audit findings, and past ready to feel her daughter’s sweet arms around her neck.

  Whatever. That wasn’t happening tonight. All she could hope for was a long, hot shower and to feel the pillow beneath her head. And the king-sized bag of chocolate-covered peanuts stashed inside her laptop bag.

  “I’ll just need your credit card, ma’am.” The clerk’s voice startled her.

  She whirled around. “Oh. Sure.” She pulled out her wallet and handed him her credit card. Should she ask?

  “Now if you could sign this, please.” The clerk slid the registration form across the counter.

  She signed the form and returned it to him, studying his name badge while he finished the transaction. It wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? She didn’t have to do anything with that information, right? “James, can you tell me if Gunner Chapel made it yet? He mentioned that he had reservations for tonight.”

  The man pecked at the computer keys a few more times. “Yes, he did.” He smiled briefly before the corners of his lips turned down. “I’m sorry. I can’t give out any information other than that.”

  “That’s fine.” So, Gunner was here. Just like he said he’d be. Surprise. Surprise. “Thank you, James.”

  “Would you like me to call his room for you?”

  Willow sucked in a breath. Would she? Her gaze darted around the lobby. Empty as far as she could see.

  Nah. She didn’t need Gunner. Or his gun.

  What she did need was a good night’s sleep. So she could get back to Tampa, to her daughter. And she needed to write and file her audit report. Her boss would be breathing down her neck for it. “No, that’s all right. It’s late. I’ll meet up with him later. But thank you, James, for checking.”

  Nodding, he jotted down a number on her key card. “Here you go, then. Room 219. Breakfast will be served from seven until ten tomorrow morning. Have a nice evening.” He glanced at his watch and smiled. “What’s left of it, anyway.”

  “Thanks.” She accepted the key folder and glanced at the lobby clock. Almost midnight.

  Okay, then. She’d take a quick shower to relieve her aching muscles and to quiet the drum roll going on in her head. And a quick snack would help her feel halfway alive again.

  Tapping her shoe against the floor tile, she pressed the elevator button and waited for its descent from the third floor. Exhaustion seeped through her in waves. When it finally arrived, Willow stepped inside and slipped her heels off, linking them between two fingers.

  The lit numbers ticked off the floors and when the doors opened, she grabbed the suitcase handle and padded barefoot down the hushed, narrow hall.

  Willow stopped at the door to her room and inserted the card into the lock. A red light flashed.

  The elevator dinged. She pressed her back against the door, taking cover in the carved out opening, and peeked around the corner of the wall.

  A man headed down the hall in the opposite direction.

  She recognized the suit. The same jacket she had stared at all day. The one belonging to Malcolm Brugman, insurance agent. Former insurance agent, likely, after she published her report.

  So she hadn’t imagined him following her!

  A giant clump of fear lodged in her throat, and her lungs refused to function properly.

  How did he find her? What did he want? Whatever the reason, it couldn’t be good, and she wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  She yanked the card out of the slot, inserted it again.

  Still the red light. Come on! Come on!

  With shaking fingers, she jerked the card out and tried again, bearing down on the door with her shoulder.

  Blessed relief, the door finally swung open, and Willow lunged into the room.

  She plowed into an expansive, muscular chest. Strong hands grabbed Willow’s upper arms. A vague, familiar smell permeated the man’s torso, a citrus and woodsy scent mingled with masculine deodorant. She heard the door close behind her just as her legs wimped out on her. Good thing this guy held her up, or she would have sank straight to the floor like a pile of overcooked spaghetti.

  “Honey, if you’re looking for action, you’ve got the wrong room.”

  “What?” Willow gasped. She knew that voice, that rich timbre with just a hint of teasing. Always teasing, forever flirting.

  Gunner Chapel.

  Oh, no! What kind of twisted sense of humor did James suffer from? She didn’t want to see Gunner. She only wanted confirmation that he was here.

  Willow tilted her head back, inching her line of vision up to Gunner’s face. Just to be sure it was him. A lot could change after ten years. Look at her. She was a prime example.

  She heard his deep intake of breath. Shock? Yeah, well, she could relate.

  “Mina?”

  Ten years faded into yesterday. Those espresso-colored eyes still gleamed with mischief. Or was it something else? Maybe he hadn’t changed that much.

  His hands tightened around her arms and tugged her against his chest. She closed her eyes and leaned into his embrace.

  Gunner!

  His heart thumped a rapid beat, totally in tune with hers. His breath blew against her hair. The scent of his aftershave was like a dear friend.

  A frustrated sigh lifted her chest. What was it about him that latched on to her innermost dreams and desires and wouldn’t let go? His grin? His have-no-cares-in-the-world attitude colliding with her organized, have-to-know-everything-beforehand outlook?

  He looped his arms around her back and pressed his forehead to hers, just like he used to do. When he’d made her feel loved and cherished. Protected. Special.

  A clamp tightened around her stomach, cut off air, and she almost tossed the cookies she’d scarfed down in place of dinner. Gag.

  Special?

  Yeah, right. More like used and abused. Thrown away with the trash.

  She wasn’t safe in here, either. She braced her hands against his chest and launched herself a few steps back, warning her brain to reject his familiar, comforting scent. She would take her chances in the hall.

  He dug his hands into his jeans pockets. “It’s good to see you, Mina. Thanks for coming.” This time his words carried only a hint of teasing, more the weight of sadness.

  “I didn’t come here to see you.” Liar. Why didn’t you check into the Sheraton right down the street? She shook her head to mute the mocking inner voice.

  “But…you’re here. I’m glad.”

  “Yeah. So am I.” What? No, she wasn’t! She pressed fingertips against her forehead. “Not the glad part. The here part.” Wait! That still didn’t sound right. “I mean—”

  One corner of his lips curved. She glanced away from him, away from the power he still apparently held over her, taking in the male clothes strewn over the back of the couch. Still a slob. But…was he alone?

  “Never mind.” She blew out a breath, annoyed with herself for even wondering. Her fingers tightened around her shoes. “What are you doing in my hotel room?”

  “I was here first, sweetheart.”

  Willow crossed her arms, the heel of one of her shoes digging into her chest, and flashed her best glare at him. “Don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’ You lost that right ten years ago.”

  “Relinquished.” Pain etched the corners of his eyes.

  She preferred to believe they were age wrinkles. “Semantics, Gunner, semantics. So…”

  “So…?”

  “Why are you here? In my room?” Willow closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  All she wanted was rest, a few minutes of peace, of not looking over her shoulder for the craz
y man chasing her. A room with a good deadbolt, a scalding hot shower, and a comfortable bed should fit the bill.

  Not Gunner Chapel. No. Definitely. Not.

  “What a nightmare!” she ground through her teeth then jerked at the sudden pain pinching her arm. “Ouch! What do you think you’re doing?” She swatted his hand away.

  He only grinned. “I was afraid I was in the middle of a dream myself. I don’t know how it’s possible, Mina, but you are even more beautiful.”

  Her jaw dangled. “Gunner, you are so not flirting with me right now.”

  “Well.” He glanced meaningfully at the heels she still held in her hand, the same tender expression she remembered so well on his face. “If the shoe fits—”

  She shoved the offending shoes on top of her suitcase. “The shoe doesn’t fit. At least not your foot, anyway. I missed my flight—”

  A noise in the hall stole her attention, and she cocked an ear in that direction. Heavy footsteps sounded outside. Fast, then slow, like they stopped right outside the door. She held her breath and pressed her index finger against her lips.

  The heavy steps continued down the hall.

  One of Gunner’s dark eyebrows lifted. He rolled his gaze toward the door, then back to her, ignoring her warning to be silent. Although his voice softened. “So…you missed your flight?”

  Her shoulders sagged with relief. Now if only she could feel the hot water pulsating against her back. She needed to wrap up this conversation. Get Gunner to vacate her room. “Yes. I worked later than I should have—” At his hiked eyebrows, she glared at him. “What?”

  “Nothing unusual about that.”

  She mashed her lips together to avoid saying something she’d regret. He didn’t need to know that she rarely worked late anymore. Because then he would ask questions. Questions related to Tessa. Best not to go there.

  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  She couldn’t take any more apologies. She needed to stay mad, or she’d be bawling against that beautiful bare chest of his. “Listen, Gunner. I’m exhausted.” She pushed some stray strands of hair away from her face. “I just want to catch some sleep before my flight out in the morning. My key didn’t work.” She fished the key card out of her shoe and waved it in front of his face.