Natural-Born
Protector
Carla Cassidy
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Carla Cassidy is an award-winning author who has written more than fifty books. In 1995, she won Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOKreviews. In 1998, she also won a Career Achievement Award for Best Innovative Series from Romantic Times BOOKreviews.
Carla believes the only thing better than curling up with a good book to read is sitting down at the computer with a good story to write. She’s looking forward to writing many more books and bringing hours of pleasure to readers.
Hank Tyler sat in the chair opposite Dalton West, waiting for his old friend to make a decision about hiring him for the family business, Wild West Protective Services.
Hank had been back in his hometown, the small Oklahoma town of Cotter Creek, for the past four months, trying to decide what he wanted to do with the shambles of his life.
He hadn’t just been floundering for the past four months, but rather for almost the last two years. His ranch in Texas had become a hotbed of memories too painful to endure, so despite the protests of his little daughter, he’d sold his spread and had moved himself and his daughter here to Cotter Creek for a new beginning.
“Are you sure this is what you want to do?” Dalton asked. “You realize that working for us as a bodyguard would mean you’d have to be available for travel—sometimes for weeks at a time.”
“I realize that,” Hank replied.
“And that won’t be a problem with you as a single parent?”
“Not at all. My mother lives in a town house in the same building as mine. She’ll be available to take care of Maddie whenever I’m away.”
“I understand there’s been some drama where you live,” Dalton replied.
Hank nodded. “The woman across the hall was just murdered. Lainie Thompson—did you know her?” A knot of emotion balled up in Hank’s chest as he thought of the neighbor who had become a close friend in a remarkably short time. Lainie’s death was a deciding factor in Hank’s decision to join Wild West Protective Services.
“Everyone knew Lainie,” Dalton said, nodding. “She was a troubled woman.” He leaned back in his desk chair and eyed Hank for a long moment. “I could definitely use you. Even though your military training was a long time ago, I’ve seen you at the shooting range and know you’re well qualified. You’re obviously in tip-top physical shape.”
Dalton frowned thoughtfully, then continued. “These bodyguard gigs pay very well, but this isn’t like working a nine-to-five job with a steady paycheck. In fact, I’ve got nothing for you at the present time.”
“If you’re worried about my finances, then don’t,” Hank replied. “Selling the ranch in Texas left me what some would consider a wealthy man. I’ll be fine until something comes up.”
Dalton stood and held out a hand to Hank. “Then welcome to Wild West Protective Services.”
Hank rose and grasped Dalton’s hand in a firm shake, knowing that he had just irrevocably changed his life.
The man was in Lainie’s bathroom, cleaning up blood from the tiled floor. Melody Thompson dropped her suitcase, stifled a scream and stumbled backward.
The stranger turned around, his handsome features registering surprise. “Wait…it’s okay,” he exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet. “I won’t hurt you.”
He was clad in only a pair of navy athletic shorts that rode low on his lean hips. And his hips were the only lean thing about him. His shoulders were broad, his chest tautly muscled, and his long legs had the athletic appearance of a man who probably jogged.
These first impressions flew through Melody’s head as her body tensed with fight-or-flight energy. “Who are you?” she demanded as she backed down the hallway toward the front door.
He followed her at a nonthreatening distance as he wiped his hands on a towel. “I’m Hank Tyler.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew a key ring with a single key dangling from it. “I live in the town house next door. Lainie and I were good friends. She gave me a key a couple of months ago.”
The fear that had momentarily gripped her eased a bit. He did have a key and it was obvious by the fit of his jogging shorts that he was carrying no weapon.
“What are you doing in here?” she demanded. It was easy for her to translate good friends. Lainie didn’t have male friends, but she’d always had plenty of lovers. There was no way she’d have been able to pass up this dark-haired, blue-eyed model of masculinity.
“I knew the sheriff released this place this morning and eventually somebody from the family would come in. I thought it would be easier if the…uh…mess was cleaned up.”
The mess. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what he was talking about. The mess was her sister’s blood. A wave of grief struck her, nearly buckling her knees.
“You’re Melody, aren’t you?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Lainie talks about you all the time.” He frowned, as if aware that he’d used present tense for somebody whose words would now forever be past tense. “Did you just get in from Chicago?” he asked.
“No, I’ve been here since Tuesday. I’ve been staying with my mother since then.”
He took a step back from her. “Look, if you’ll give me just a minute or two, I’ll finish up and get out of your hair.”
Before she could reply, he turned and disappeared back into the bathroom.