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The Officer And The Renegade
Helen R. Myers
TELL ME YOU'RE INNOCENT! Taylor Benning's urgent plea seared Hugh Blackstone's heart. All the spurned half-breed had to do was admit he'd been wrongly accused. He knew the right words would prompt her to throw her arms around him, maybe even win him a night in her bed… .They'd once been as close as two people could possibly get. But how could he forget that Taylor had failed him all those years ago - in the name of love - and continued to betray him with the secret of their son?
Theirs Was Some History.... (#u5c127805-f200-5c42-8b9c-26c52a17e407)More Praise for Award-winning author Helen R. Myers: (#ufba12a65-0681-5299-ae6c-d7def8c063d0)Letter to Reader (#u39028661-3926-5d23-bc26-392c96014f61)Title Page (#u3934e5d6-ac5d-5c34-ae40-ae58a9c5a4eb)About the Author (#u3f15fafe-ba96-5119-907e-2a117c53e60e)Chapter One (#u225f3cba-175c-5a25-be90-b8bfbb5b8a0c)Chapter Two (#u2d1aa8aa-522e-522e-929b-a36ad6a9ebc0)Chapter Three (#ubd0e2680-c408-5691-abbe-b216493ebe84)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)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)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Theirs Was Some History....
Taylor had been the one for Hugh, the only woman who ever knew the feel of his strong, magnificent body against hers, and of those callused gentle hands exploring and claiming. From the day they’d met as kids, back when their relationship had been about kinship and understanding, through the sweet, sweet years of discovering love, then passion...all the way to the moment court bailiffs escorted him away, there had never been anyone else for either of them. That was a huge stack of memories for a woman to repress....
Now, fourteen years later, Hugh was free...and Taylor needed to tell him about her son...his son!
More Praise for Award-winning author Helen R. Myers:
“Ms. Myers never fails to give the reader a good solid, entertaining story with fresh characterizations and dialogue that sparkles.”
—Rendezvous
Dear Reader,
LET’S CELEBRATE FIFTEEN YEARS OF SILHOUETTE DESIRE...
with some of your favorite authors and new stars of tomorrow. For the next three months, we present a spectacular lineup of unforgettably romantic love stories—led by three MAN OF THE MONTH titles.
In October, Diana Palmer returns to Desire with The Patient Nurse, which features an unforgettable hero. Next month, Ann Major continues her bestselling CHILDREN OF DESTINY series with Nobody’s Child And in December, Dixie Browning brings us her special brand of romantic charm in Look What the Stork Brought.
But Desire is not only MAN OF THE MONTH! It’s new love stories from talented authors Christine Rimmer, Helen R. Myers, Raye Morgan, Metsy Hingle and new star Katherine Garbera in October.
In November, don’t miss sensuous surprises from BJ James, Lass Small, Susan Crosby, Eileen Wilks and Shawna Delacorte.
And December will be filled with Christmas cheer from Maureen Child, Kathryn Jensen, Christine Pacheco, Anne Eames and Barbara McMahon.
Remember, here at Desire we’ve been committed to bringing you the very best in unforgettable romance and sizzling sensuality. And to add to the excitement of fifteen wonderful years, we offer the chance for you to win some wonderful prizes. Look in the pages at the end of the book for details.
And may we have many more years of happy reading together!
Senior Editor
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The Officer And The Renegade
Helen R. Myers
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
HELEN R. MYERS
satisfies her preference for a reclusive life-style by living deep in the Piney Woods of East Texas with her husband, Robert, and—because they were there first—the various species of four-legged and winged creatures that wander throughout their ranch. To write has been her lifelong dream, and to bring a slightly different flavor to each book is an ongoing ambition.
Admittedly restless, she says that it helps her writing, explaining, “It makes me reach for new territory and experiment with old boundaries.” In 1993 the Romance Writers of America awarded Navarrone the prestigious RITA for Best Short Contemporary Novel of the Year.
One
“Jeez...look at the place. You really expect us to live way out here?”
As Taylor Grace Benning eyed the small town coming into view beyond the highway’s exit sign, she gripped the steering wheel of her aging red Jeep Cherokee and struggled to keep calm. It wasn’t the view that got to her, though, it was her son. No less than thirteen-point-three years old, yet he remained cranky when he first woke from a nap just as he had at three months.
You’d think I would be used to him by now.
Well, there was used and used. Besides, her nerves weren’t at their best, and the hurried marathon drive from Detroit hadn’t improved on that status, either.
“Come on, Kyle, you sound as though this were your first trip. So far things don’t look that much different since the last time we visited.”
“That’s the point—last time we weren’t planning on staying. Besides, I was a little kid. I didn’t know any better.”
Taylor eyed the extralarge T-shirt that hung on him like a parachute over a sapling, and his baggy, ripped jeans, and wondered what kind of emotional explosion she would have to deal with if she told him that he still didn’t have a clue. She opted for a mild cold war.
“It’s not that bad.”
“Right. Who wouldn’t want to live in a ghost town that’s been painted every gross shade of neon ever invented?”
Ignoring him, she exited Interstate 40, which went on to Albuquerque, and eyed their destination nestled at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Kyle was right; these days Redoubt, New Mexico, was like a surprise streak of paint on an otherwise no-nonsense canvas. The salmon pink, canary yellow, peacock blue and electric white buildings that she could see so far were startling against tree-covered cliffs. After driving for hours along the flat, then rolling, prairie tempered with spotty vegetation, this shocking splash of color was unexpected, despite her father’s warning that the town was attempting once again to reinvent itself. Aside from the fresh coat of paint, though, there was no missing that most of the structures were a half-century old and spare. No Frank Lloyd Wright or Taj Mahal creations here. On the other hand, glamour and grandeur weren’t what she and her son needed at this stage in their lives. The challenge was to make Kyle understand that.
“Forget aesthetics for the moment, okay? Your grandfather’s counting on us.” She hoped the reminder would trigger his conscience. “Once you get a chance to stretch your legs and take a better look around, I bet you’ll see things aren’t so bad.”
“Compared to what?”
“Reform school for one.”
“Not funny.”
She wasn’t trying to be; she was thinking about what he could have—probably would have—had to look forward to if they’d stayed much longer in the urban hotbed they had previously called home. “Sorry, dear heart. You leaned straight into that one.”
The young teen slouched lower in his seat and crossed his legs, further exposing a bony knee sticking through his torn and fraying jeans. Her only child was at a difficult stage in more ways than one. While physically sprouting into a man, emotionally he was light-years away from adulthood. As a result, when he wasn’t bumping his long legs or those clodhopper feet into walls and furniture, he was pining after girls aeons ahead of his maturity and experience, or else hanging out with boys too reckless and angry for any parent’s peace of mind. A month ago, when her fellow officers on the Detroit police force brought him home for the second time for offenses almost worthy of arrest, she’d begun giving serious thought to returning to the land of her birth. A few days later, a call from her father had convinced her to follow through with the idea.
Despite the dark lenses on her sunglasses, Taylor had to squint against the late-June sun, which was nearing its midpoint in the cerulean sky. But her eyes stung for another reason, too: having been away from the state for fourteen years with few visits between—and brief ones at that—the emotions rushing through her were as painful as they were sweet. As a girl, she’d ridden bareback across this land, slept under the canopy of this incredible sky, made love for the first time in this relentless heat. Once she’d made up her mind to come back, she’d understood she would have to deal with those memories, the old feelings... many things. But she’d hoped that she would be too busy to be susceptible to the “what if...” demons. Apparently those gremlins were more resilient than she’d anticipated.
“I sure hope Gramps has indoor plumbing,” Kyle muttered, twisting in his seat as they passed a weather-beaten shack with an even shakier-looking outhouse behind it.
Taylor felt her lips twitch. “You know he does. You’re just having withdrawal pangs because there’s no mall.” Thank goodness, she added silently.
“Yeah, and now that you brought it up, what do you expect me to do all day while you’re working?”
“Count grains of sand and dodge rattlesnakes.”
“I’m serious.”
“All right, so this ground is more clay than sand. I’ll still expect you to be careful about rattlers.”
Her son tugged his Detroit Tigers baseball cap lower over his eyes. “Maybe I’ll hitch a ride back home. Al Deaton said I could move in with him if I wanted.”
Despite a sinking sensation in her abdomen, Taylor kept her gaze on the row of stores coming up. “What a delightful thought. Considering how infrequently he practices any form of personal hygiene, being his roommate would be a genuine treat.”
“You know what, Mom? I live for the day you don’t have a wise-guy answer for everything.”
“No doubt you do. But you’ll be an old, old man before it happens, compadre. Even your grandfather said that the only thing faster than my draw was my mouth. Deal with it.”
Usually that would have earned her a reluctant smile from Kyle, but he was locked in too stubborn a mood to let her see it—a little trait he’d inherited from his father. To hide his feelings, he turned to look out the passenger window. Taylor didn’t mind the break in the conversation, though. She wanted a minute to take in the view herself.
The town of Redoubt hadn’t been “discovered” per se. It had evolved quite by accident when in the early 1880s Murdock Marsden’s great-grandfather camped in the area as part of a wagon train heading for California. The topography of the land had reminded this ancestor of the area in Africa an uncle had described to him. A member of the small British contingent that in 1879 held Rork’s Drift from the onslaught of thousands of Zulus, the uncle, through his letters, had made a lasting impression on Murdock’s other ancestor. Enough of one to stay behind when the rest of the wagon train moved on. Enough to carve not only a town but a prosperous ranch out of the territory, which Murdock now ruled.
Today the sign at the outskirts of town announced Redoubt’s population as 914, about double what it had been when she’d lived here. It would be 916 if the residents showed a fraction of the enthusiasm for her and Kyle’s return that her father did. He thought she was worrying for no reason, but she had legitimate ones. In the past she’d made her biggest mistakes by assuming too much, falling in love too hard, planning too quickly, racing toward tomorrow with an energy that had bubbled up from some bottomless well inside her. No more. She wasn’t the eighteen-year-old spitfire who’d raced out of Redoubt all those years ago with a broken heart and shattered dreams. She was a thirty-two-year-old mother of a troubled teenager. A divorcée who’d walked away from a challenging but promising career. And although she still had more energy than most people her age, she no longer took any of it, anything at all, for granted.
“Hold me back. Is that supposed to be a burger biggie joint? I don’t remember that being there before.”
At Kyle’s mocking query, she eyed the yellow frame building with the green-and-white lettering on the window announcing Boo’s Biggest Burgers. “Me, neither. But now you know you won’t starve to death. And there’s the public library,” she added, pointing to the narrow red brick building next door. “While you’re feeding your stomach, you might think about feeding your brain.”
“It all depends on how long the line is to check out the book.”
She groaned at the joke that had been corny even when she’d been a kid, and scanned the rest of stores that made up Main Street. Many of the businesses had been handed down from one generation to the next, and she could easily recall the names of their proprietors—Graham, Redburn, Yancy and Montez; however, there were a number of new businesses—mostly antique shops and art galleries—that were part of the town’s turn toward becoming a miniartist’s colony. She hoped those newer residents would also be openminded about having a female law enforcement officer in their midst. Her father didn’t seem to think there would be a problem—and that, regardless, he expected her to do what had to be done.
“We’ll soon see,” she murmured.
“See what?”
Jarred out of her mild brooding, she shook her head. “Nothing. We’re here.”
She pulled into the parking lot next to the low adobe building on the far eastern side of town. The Spanish architecture. which would have been taken for granted in Albuquerque, seemed misplaced in Redoubt. As expected, the town’s single patrol car was there. So was her father’s white Chevy Blazer. How he’d driven it here in his condition she didn’t want to guess.
“Let’s go say hello and get him back to the house,” she said after parking.
“I hope he doesn’t try to hug me.”
It was all Taylor could do not to laugh out loud. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten his man-to-man handshakes, too? You may end up wishing he still treated you like a kid.”
They walked to the front of the police station, Kyle barely an inch or so shorter than her own five-eight. By next year, she would be lucky if she didn’t have to look up to the feisty pup. Her heart swelled with pride as she remembered the thoughtful, kind boy he could be when not under the influence of his schoolmates, and how his grades once reflected his good mind and considerable talents. Hopefully it wasn’t too late to get the old Kyle back.
Things just had to go well.
As they entered the station, a deep baritone called out, “There they are! Hey, what did you do, break every speed limit between here and Detroit?”
A grinning Emmett Kyle Benning hobbled out of his office balanced on crutches. Injury aside, the sixty-year old still cut a striking image, although his dark brown hair was now mostly salt-and-pepper, and his face had turned ruddy from too much sun and an unapologetic affection for beer.
“Hiya, Dad.” Taylor reached for him to give her son time to prepare himself. “You look good for a one-legged cop.”
“You’re the one. Damn, honey, if I’d remembered how cute you were, I’d have thought twice about offering you this job. The guys in this town are likely to look for trouble for the sheer pleasure of getting arrested!”
Taylor had heard variations of that line more often than she cared to remember over the years, but she knew her father didn’t have an ounce of male porky in him; he was simply making all of the right noises because he knew she’d never been overly impressed with her gangly body and unremarkable looks. Although she supposed she’d improved somewhat with time, she didn’t miss her son rolling his eyes, or how Orrin, her father’s longtime “volunteer” dispatcher and drinking buddy, was suddenly preoccupied by an itch in the graying peach fuzz growing out of his chin.
“I don’t know how you ever earned your driver’s license, let alone became the fine marksman you are,” she said, “when it’s obvious you’re as blind as a bat.” She added a nod at his cast. “And what are you doing on your feet? Didn’t you say the doctor wanted you in bed with that leg propped?”
“I couldn’t very well leave the town fending for itself. But now that you’re here, I’ll be glad to kick back and play invalid. Who’s that big lug you brought with you? Maybe I’ll deputize him while I’m at it and get me a real bargain.”
Kyle all but elbowed her out of the way. “Hey, Gramps.”
Her father held out his hand, and Taylor could almost hear her boy sigh with relief when awarded a formal, unchallenging handshake.
“You’re looking fine, son. How’s your blackjack these days?”
“My poker’s better.”
Emmett threw back his head and roared. “Orrin—you remember my family? Taylor Grace and Kyle Thomas Benning.”
They were summarily reintroduced to baby-faced Orrin Lint, whose thinning white hair and near colorless gray eyes looked at the world as if constantly trying to figure out the punch line to a joke.
Although he rose—which did little to improve his height—and thrust out his hand like a trained robot, he whispered to Emmett, “What’re they doing with your name? I thought she got hitched?”
“Divorced,” her father whispered back through a stiff smile.
“Both of them?”
Her father’s smile grew strained. “Say hello, Orrin. Then shut up.”
Still looking confused, Orrin shook Taylor’s hand. “Sure glad you’re here, Miz Taylor. But I am sorry our plans for your arrival party kinda fell through. Things changing the way they have, them new folk just don’t know—”
“Orrin, what did I just say about flapping that yap of yours? Come on, Taylor.” Her father took her arm. “Let’s get you sworn in.”
Although Taylor couldn’t be more relieved to skip a formal celebration, she wondered what Orrin had begun to say and wished he’d had a chance to finish. “Dad, what’s the rush? Can’t we visit a few minutes first?”
Her father glanced back at her son. “Kyle, can you drive your mama’s car yet?”
The boy nodded eagerly—a surprise to Taylor, since as far as she knew he’d never been behind the wheel of anything.
“Terrific.” Her father beamed. “Soon as we get you legal, Taylor, Kyle’ll drive your car to the house for me, and you can take mine.”
“Take it where? And why can’t I drive the patrol car?”
“You can if you want, I’m just used to the radio and stuff in mine. I thought you’d like it better, too. In any case there’s something I need for you to do.”
As he spoke his blue-gray eyes avoided her gaze, and when she combined that shiftiness with his odd behavior toward Orrin, it triggered Taylor’s suspiciousness. Something about this situation was suddenly not the cut-anddried affair he’d assured her it would be during their phone conversations.
“Exactly what is going on? Dad?”
