“Addi?”
Addison’s heart twisted. She knew that voice, and only one man had ever called her by that nickname. Drew Bryant, her long-dead fiancé.
She shook her head. Clearly she’d let the stress and worry get to her. Drew wasn’t here, wasn’t even alive.
The screen door hinges squealed and the handle of the main door turned. A dream, she thought, it had to be a dream. As the door eased open, Addison leveled the shotgun at the man casting shadows across the weak moonlight spilling through the door.
“Addi, it’s me, Drew. I’m here to help.”
Addison fired.
The loud report deafened her to the splintering wood as the buckshot pelted the front door. The man rushed forward, taking the gun before she could fire again.
“It’s me,” he said, his voice lost in the ringing in her ears.
The single lightbulb came on and she covered her mouth, barely smothering the scream lodged in her chest. “No. No.” This wasn’t possible.
To Honour and
to Protect
Debra Webb & Regan Black
DEBRA WEBB, born in Alabama, wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain—and a five-year stint with NASA—that she realized her true calling. Since then the USA TODAY bestselling author has penned more than one hundred novels, including her internationally bestselling Colby Agency series.
REGAN BLACK, a USA TODAY bestselling author, writes award-winning, action-packed novels featuring kick-butt heroines and the sexy heroes who fall in love with them. Raised in the Midwest and California, she and her family, along with their adopted greyhound, two arrogant cats and a quirky finch, reside in the South Carolina Lowcountry, where the rich blend of legend, romance and history fuels her imagination.
For Robert, if you never read past this page, know that you’re my treasure, full of the integrity, insight and kindness that make real-life heroes so special.
Contents
Interstate 10, West Texas
Thursday, June 19, 3:10 p.m.
Addison Collins checked the fuel gauge, quickly calculating how many more miles she could put between her and the inevitable pursuit before they had to stop. Her brand-new BMW could’ve done that for her, but not this ancient, new-to-her Land Rover. That was what math was for, wasn’t it? This was the perfect example she would keep in the back of her mind for the day her son complained about his math homework.
“Mom, how much longer?”
She recognized that tone. He was about to complain but not about math. Using the rearview mirror, she aimed a confident smile at her son. His bright hair gleamed in the sunlight coming through the window, but the glare on his face bordered on mutinous.
She couldn’t blame him. They’d been on the road for two days straight and had another day left. Possibly more. “About another half hour and we’ll stop again.”
“I have to pee now.”
“You’ll have to hold it for a few minutes.”
“A half hour is thirty minutes. A few is more like three.”
Instead of maternal pride, Addison couldn’t help wondering why she’d ever been inclined to teach him the difference. “And how many threes are in thirty?”
“Ten.” He turned his face to the window. “I still have to pee.”
“All right. I’ll find a place to stop.”
“This car stinks,” he said a minute later.
“The car is clean. It’s just new-car smell.” With a persistent undertone of mildew, but she kept that thought to herself.
“But it’s an old car.”
“True.” Patience will pay off.