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Marshal On A Mission
Ryshia Kennie
She witnessed a robbery. Now she’s a killer’s target. Hiding from a ruthless gang in Mexico, Tara Munroe thinks she’s safe. She is not! Thankfully, U. S. Marshal Trent Nielsen vows to help her…whatever it takes. But soon Trent realises he’ll have to stay one step ahead of these criminals if he's got any chance of keeping Tara alive.
She witnessed a robbery.
Now she’s a killer’s target.
Tara Munroe thinks she’s safe. Then a ruthless gang stalks her from Colorado to Mexico. Thankfully, US Marshal Trent Nielsen isn’t far behind and vows to bring her home...whatever it takes. Before long, Trent realizes this mission is tough for even the most seasoned lawman. And with no shortage of men gunning for them, he’ll have to stay one step ahead if he has any chance of keeping Tara alive.
RYSHIA KENNIE has received a writing award from the City of Regina, Saskatchewan, and was also a semifinalist for the Kindle Book Awards. She finds that there’s never a lack of places to set an edge-of-the-seat suspense, as prairie winters find her dreaming of warmer places for heart-stopping stories. They are places where deadly villains threaten intrepid heroes and heroines who battle for their right to live, or even to love. For more, visit ryshiakennie.com (http://www.ryshiakennie.com)
Also by Ryshia Kennie (#u388377d3-3ca0-5b18-b6f8-a1aeabbd1628)
Wanted by the Marshal
Sheik’s Rule
Sheik’s Rescue
Son of the Sheik
Sheik Defence
Suspect Witness
Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Marshal on a Mission
Ryshia Kennie
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ISBN: 978-1-474-09441-2
MARSHAL ON A MISSION
© 2019 Patricia Detta
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Note to Readers (#u388377d3-3ca0-5b18-b6f8-a1aeabbd1628)
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Contents
Cover (#uc3774735-9254-54a7-ab6b-d046e88e31d9)
Back Cover Text (#u00688795-acc9-5c71-991c-bf14958d2edb)
About the Author (#ua464b6ae-4d9a-5e12-aac0-7f9e10624144)
Booklist (#u19c607ae-e9cc-5030-8e82-d506c9633437)
Title Page (#u1a2ef15e-e036-5a37-b956-a7b9aef5ac94)
Copyright (#u98f45b44-1f0c-5824-832b-bf22c0f908c8)
Note to Readers
Dedication (#u4b671660-056d-5b43-b78a-700dcb133ab3)
Chapter One (#u580f45cb-fcc0-5b4e-af9b-81683def718e)
Chapter Two (#u1542db9d-c8e6-5c1b-9f00-a7ad3f92b97e)
Chapter Three (#u54e1f325-14df-537f-8e9b-1bc716f8e6e0)
Chapter Four (#u08853208-811b-560a-bb73-e67585a00cf3)
Chapter Five (#u67b43a12-c03e-5ca9-aac2-194bdfb7e1e1)
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)
Chapter Twenty-One (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Two (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty-Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u388377d3-3ca0-5b18-b6f8-a1aeabbd1628)
The icy chill of déjà vu crept down her spine as if it had all happened only yesterday, and as if tragedy were about to happen again. Tara Munroe pushed the uneasy feeling away.
“It was a long time ago,” she assured herself. But today, for some reason, it felt like yesterday that her father had been murdered. She knew that some things you never recovered from. Painful experience had taught her that. Some things left a mark no matter how long ago they had happened. She took a breath, trying to go back to enjoying the beautiful spring day. But something seemed to hang over her like a shadow.
“Forget it,” she said to herself. She was being ridiculous, dreaming up trouble where there was none. Though it was the anniversary of that dreadful day. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t an anniversary to remember. Instead she had to think of it as what it was, a beautiful day, midmorning, midspring.
It was already comfortably warm, touched with the lazy humidity left by last night’s gentle rain. The sweet scent of petunias wafted from a planter on the city sidewalk. The flowers were early, grown in the local city greenhouse and just recently planted here. In the midst of downtown Pueblo, Colorado, the natural beauty of the flowers stood out against the brick and stone. The historic buildings that populated the downtown provided a touch of Old World to the city’s core. But it was the sweet, earthy scent of the flowers that made her fingers itch to pick up a paintbrush and transfer the vibrant colors onto canvas or cardstock for greeting cards or...
But she had other things on her mind today, less artsy things—like getting some cash to pay her rent.
The last thought dropped as she was shoved, the arm of a man ramming into her shoulder and throwing her off balance. She had to catch herself from falling as she fought for balance, the clasp on her purse releasing. The hand-painted bag flew open, spilling some of its contents on the sidewalk.
“Hey!” she said as she bent down to pick up her things.
The man was already ahead of her. But he glanced back. His eyes briefly met hers, and in that moment, she noticed dark hair that was thick, short and wild, and the tawny color of his skin that accentuated a thick scar. The scar ran crookedly across the top half of his cheek. There was anger in his dark brown eyes and a wildness that made her heart race in fear.
A few feet away, he squatted down to pick up a rectangle of off-white paper with an elastic at one end. It looked like a medical mask. But that seemed a weird thing to carry around, she thought as she watched him shove it in his pocket and walk away without giving her a second look.
Jerk.
His lack of manners had her fuming. She kept watching him. She wasn’t sure why, except that something about him felt a bit off. She watched as he crossed the street. Then he turned toward a familiar building, the same place she was headed: Pueblo First National Bank.
“Great,” she muttered. Sitting on her haunches, she picked up the remainder of her things from the sidewalk and put them back into her purse.
A few minutes later, she opened the door to the bank and was met by a rush of air-conditioned chill that made her feel like winter had returned. She shivered and stopped. The silence was heavy, different from the usual buzz of business. And when she looked toward the tellers, she forgot to breathe.
The tellers seemed frozen in place as two men stood with handguns aimed at them. A third man was in her peripheral vision, but it was a movement to her left, a fourth man, that got her attention. She recognized that lanky build, the faded jeans and the gray T-shirt. He turned, and their eyes met. Like the others, he wore a mask—the surgical mask she’d seen earlier, the one he’d dropped.
Shock raced through her. She knew those eyes. She’d seen that face. It seemed like forever as she stared into hard, wild eyes she’d never forget, and saw again the edge of that vicious scar...and something else. He was armed, and he was aiming that gun at her.
She turned, took two steps back to the door, ducked and pushed the door open just as she heard a sound that she’d heard so many times before. She knew that sound. Her heart seemed to stop and then speed up into a wild hammering that screamed at her to get out. It was the sound she’d heard so often as a child during hunting season on the small hobby ranch where she’d grown up. A gunshot.
Glass shattered in front of her. Her heart was pumping loud enough that she was sure everyone could hear it. She bolted through the lobby door, grabbed the outside door and yanked it open. She was desperate to escape. Another bang and more glass rained down around her. And then she burst onto the street.
She ran as hard and as fast as she could. She was in a state of panic for the first block as she almost collided with a woman going the opposite direction.
“Go back! Bank robbery,” she warned and repeated that warning at everyone she passed. Most looked at her oddly.
In the distance, sirens wailed. She waved wildly when the first of the sheriff’s vehicles arrived. The vehicles flew past her followed by the second, a third after that.
“Armed robbery,” she said in a panicked rush to the first deputy to pull over. “Four of them. They shot, they...” She was so freaked out she couldn’t remember exactly what had happened. “I was there. I saw one of them on the street before the robbery.” What else had she seen? Her hands shook so hard that she could barely stand, never mind think of details.
“It’s all right,” the deputy said and opened the back door of his vehicle.
She stood there frozen as if the invitation had never been issued, as if the last minutes had never happened.
“Get in, miss,” the deputy said, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. “You’re safe now.”
She looked at him and reality returned. She saw his badge, his uniform as he repeated his instruction. She crawled into the back seat, feeling only slightly safer.
“We’ve got a witness,” she heard the deputy report seconds later.
