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Hotshot P.i.
B.J. Daniels
The prime suspect was a sleepwalkerFor the second time in her life Clancy Jones had awakened at a murder scene–this time with the murder weapon in her hand. Without recall, she insisted she was innocent, framed and the real killer after her. To the untrained eye, she looked mighty guilty. But to private investigator Jake Hawkins, she still looked damn good.Desire for Clancy had always burned inside Jake; so had anger. Ten years ago Clancy sleepwalked onto another crime scene and her testimony had put Jake's father behind bars. Now Jake didn't know if he wanted to prove his seductive client's innocence–or guilt.LAWMAN–There's nothing sexier than the strong arms of the law!
For the second time in her life Clancy Jones had awakened at a murder scene—this time with the murder weapon in her hand. To the untrained eye, she looked mighty guilty. But to private investigator Jake Hawkins, she still looked good.
Desire for Clancy had always burned inside Jake; so had anger. Ten years ago Clancy sleepwalked onto another crime scene and her testimony had put Jake's father behind bars. Now Jake didn't know if he wanted to prove his seductive client's innocence—or guilt.
Previously published.
Hotshot P. I.
B. J. Daniels
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
“Do you realize the position you’ve put me in?”
“It’s not bad enough that you jump bail and I cover for you. Now I’m withholding evidence from the police.” The fact that Clancy hadn’t asked him to protect her, that he’d done it all on his own, only made it worse. “I just compromised myself and my career, put my P.I. license on the line for you,” Jake told her, laying it on a little strong.
“Let’s not forget why you’re really here.” She glared at him. “To get the goods on me, isn’t that what you said?”
She looked ashen. Shaken. Scared. Not at all like a criminal.
Before he could consider how stupid it was, he pulled Clancy into his arms. She resisted at first, but slowly he felt her soften in his embrace. He tried to focus on the case, not on the wonderfully feminine feel of the woman he held.
Jake growled at himself in disgust. He wanted to kiss her, protect and shelter her. But he couldn’t let anything get in the way of the truth. Not even Clancy.
Dear Reader (#ulink_2ddfe48b-a9f8-59e6-b628-69f09433e14a),
They’re rugged, they’re strong and they’re wanted! Whether sheriff, undercover cop or officer of the court, these men are trained to keep the peace, to uphold the law. But what happens when they meet the one woman who gets to know the man behind the badge?
Twelve of these men are on the loose…and only Harlequin Intrigue brings them to you—one per month, in the LAWMAN series. This month, meet hotshot P.I. Jake Hawkins as he takes on a most challenging client—a sleepwalker!
Author B.J. Daniels knows firsthand about sleepwalking—she’s gone on those nocturnal excursions since childhood. And B.J.’s set this story in her home state of Montana, at one of her favorite lakes. Readers may contact B.J. at P.O. Box 183, Bozeman, Montana 59771.
Be sure you don’t miss a single LAWMAN…because there’s nothing sexier than the strong arms of the law!
Regards,
Debra Matteucci
Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator Harlequin Books
300 East 42nd Street
New York, NY 10017
To the man I share my life, my love and my dreams with:
Cast of Characters
Clancy Jones—She’d sleepwalked into murder and now Jake Hawkins was in more than her dreams. Had he been hired to save her? Or see that she went to prison?
Jake Hawkins—The private investigator had come home for only one reason—to settle an old score. Not to fall in love with Clancy again.
Dex Westfall—He followed Clancy to Hawk Island, vowing to get what he deserved. But did he deserve to die?
Warren Hawkins—Was he doing time for a crime he didn’t commit?
Kiki Talbott Conner—She’d stoop to anything—even blackmail—to clear the Talbott name. But was that all she was after?
Tadd Farnsworth—Did the lawyer take the case only for the money and the publicity? Or did he have his own interests at heart?
Lola Strickland—The woman had left a trail of men—including a mystery lover—who might have wanted her dead. Johnny Branson—The retired sheriff warned Jake and Clancy not to dig in the old murder case.
Helen Branson—Because of her health, she didn’t get out much. But if anyone knew what was going on on Hawk Island, she did.
Frank Ames—He’d gone from dock boy to resort owner almost overnight. Was it just good luck? Or bad luck for someone else?
Contents
Cover (#u3c4335ba-c9d4-5385-b96d-f6db6b2e4b7a)
Back Cover Text (#uc24ad38c-e80a-5360-bca1-c8289824bf0f)
Title Page (#u62b5f014-2629-50ea-aac8-fc70cea1795a)
Introduction (#u2eab6f98-3e34-52b5-8171-bb83f6f8c057)
Dear Reader (#ufa09d2e0-72e3-5a9b-b0e4-e0285aeccfed)
Dedication (#u902933ea-ba43-5758-9a75-0c486500627b)
Cast of Characters (#ufcf5b743-fa98-59f7-b1fd-d216d7461465)
Prologue (#ue95d8329-4423-5f96-9ed4-9126e94ebf6f)
Chapter One (#u18e9a158-d041-5188-a1dd-7b20f98368fb)
Chapter Two (#uc8f65861-8860-5d35-a576-b0bb27a9f9f3)
Chapter Three (#u838fe69b-9930-5fb4-83fa-055071283c2e)
Chapter Four (#uadbfb90f-c110-54e7-8298-43cb81d08932)
Chapter Five (#u2de13d39-9646-5af0-93bd-8dfae8dd6964)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
Clancy didn’t know what had awakened her. She blinked, confused by the moonlight streaming across the third-story balcony, even more confused to find herself standing at the narrow log railing, staring down at Flathead Lake.
Waves lapped at the dock in the small bay below the island lodge. Clancy’s heart rate accelerated along with her growing apprehension as she realized what was so terribly wrong.
The view. She shouldn’t have been able to see the bay from this angle on her bedroom balcony. Behind her, the door to her family’s lake lodge stood open. Past it, furniture huddled under sheets like ghosts. A corner of one sheet flapped softly in the night breeze. Clancy stared at the room, frantically trying to orient herself in a place haunted with childhood memories. The garret on the third floor—a room that hadn’t been used in years for anything more than storage.
The early June breeze stirred the sheets and ran like a chill across her skin. She looked down, surprised to find she wore nothing but her nightgown. Her feet were bare—except for the sand. It was happening all over again! Fear raced ahead of her thoughts. Where had she been? What had she done this time? With growing panic, Clancy became aware of something heavy clutched in the fingers of her left hand.
A bronze sculpture of a cowboy, one of the first she’d ever made. It had been on the mantel downstairs. She shuddered as she realized how she and it must have gotten up here.
She hadn’t sleepwalked in years. But the terror of waking up not knowing where she was or where she’d been wasn’t something she’d forgotten from her childhood. She remembered with horror the last time she’d walked in her sleep. The night of the fire.
Clancy turned, wanting only to get back to her bedroom on the other side of the lodge, and realized she wasn’t alone. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She fought back a scream as the moonlight spilled across the garret. Someone was on the couch. Sprawled, legs out at an odd angle. She stepped into the room, flipping the light switch. And stopped.
The bronze slipped from her fingers, hitting the hardwood floor with a thud, as she recognized the boots. Bright red cowboy boots. With wet sand on them. Just like her feet. Her heart thumped like a drum, filling the silence of the room.
Dex Westfall lay on the couch. His dark hair, normally coiffed to perfection, was now matted to the side of his head. Blood, once the color of his boots, stained the sheet covering the couch. His eyes stared, vacant, empty.
Clancy stumbled back, suddenly aware of the stickiness on her fingers. She stared at her left hand, her terror accelerating. How had she gotten blood on her? Her gaze leaped to the cowboy sculpture lying on the floor. Her heart rate rocketed, her pulse now a deafening roar in her ears. She didn’t need anyone to tell her that the dark stain on the bronze was Dex’s blood or that her former boyfriend was dead.
It was happening again. Only this time, her worst nightmare had come true. She’d killed someone in her sleep.
Chapter One
Ignoring the overdressed stranger on the dock, Jake Hawkins loaded the cooler full of groceries into his twenty-five-foot fishing boat, then reached for his tackle box and new rod and reel resting at the woman’s high-heeled feet. He noted with no small amount of satisfaction that she’d finally gotten the message. Beneath the huge hat, she pursed her thin, lipstick-red lips and stripped off the large designer sunglasses to give him the full effect of her icy baby blues. The look she gave him shot off more sparks than all the diamonds weighing down her body.
He smiled to himself. From the moment he’d found her waiting for him on the dock beside his boat, there hadn’t been anything about Mrs. Randolph L. Conners that he liked—from her wealthy smugness to her condescending certainty that he was about to go to work for her. And he especially didn’t appreciate being bothered on his day off. It was Monday and he was going fishing for a few days. And nothing was going to keep that from happening.
“Like I said, I don’t baby-sit heiresses,” he repeated as he turned away from the Galveston skyline to take a whiff of the gulf breeze. “Especially heiresses who have just murdered their boyfriends.” The gulf shimmered in the morning sun, beckoning him. He couldn’t wait to hear his twin 150-horsepower engines rumbling as he crossed the water, the wind in his face.
“I don’t think you understand, Mr. Hawkins,” Mrs. Conners said, enunciating each word carefully. “I’m not hiring you to baby-sit. I’m hiring you to see that my niece is exonerated.”
Jake pushed back his Houston Astros cap and laughed. She wasn’t hiring him at all. He didn’t have the time or the inclination. Not even the money could entice him right now. Not when he had a well-deserved fishing trip planned. “You need a good lawyer, not a private investigator. But I can give you a few names—”
“I already have the best lawyers money can buy,” she said, sounding pained that she had to explain everything to him. “I need someone with your…talents.”
He prided himself on what he called his hunches, and right now one was riding up his spine like a centipede wearing spiked heels. While his hunches were seldom wrong, he hoped this one was; he had a bad feeling that somehow he was going to end up working for this woman.
“My talents?” he repeated, also hoping he was wrong about where she was headed. He shook his head as if he didn’t get it.
Exasperation gave her a pinched look that reminded him of one of those mean little hairless dogs. “I want you to prove my niece’s innocence, Mr. Hawkins. Whatever you have to do. Whatever it costs. My niece will not be convicted of murder.”
Jake jumped from the boat to the dock with a thud. “If you think you can hire me to tamper with evidence…” He found himself looming over her, his blood pressure up and running.
She tilted her head back ever so slightly until he could see her eyes shaded beneath the hat. If she felt even a little bit intimidated, it didn’t show; her gaze glittered with brittle-hard certainty. “You misunderstood my intentions.”
“Like hell I misunderstood,” Jake said, locking his gaze on the woman. “If your niece is guilty, then she deserves to do time. And from what you’ve told me—”
“You are wrong, Mr. Hawkins,” she said, her voice as hard and gritty as gravel. “My niece is a Talbott. A Talbott does not go to prison.”
Talbott? He felt a jolt of recognition shoot through him. He squinted at her, telling himself Talbott was a fairly common name. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself; he wasn’t going to take this case. But still he couldn’t shake off the rotten feeling tap-dancing at the back of his head.
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Mr. Hawkins?”
He understood perfectly. The niece was an embarrassment and too good for prison. He couldn’t believe the gall of this woman. And now she wanted someone to go in and clean up the mess. At any price. Well, she’d picked the wrong man. “Like I said, I can’t help you. It’s my day off and I’m going fishing.”
Jake flung his duffel bag into the boat, hoping Mrs. Randolph L. Conners would take the hint. But he wasn’t averse to throwing her into the gulf if he had to.
She squared her shoulders, straightening her expensive suit. “I’m sure after you’ve given it some thought you’ll change your mind, Mr. Hawkins.”
He pointed to the shore. “Don’t count on it.”
She smiled. “We’ll see.”
