Howdy, from the Heart

By Eryn Grace

*** BASED ON CHRISTIAN MORALS--CHRISTIAN ROMANCE ***

When private investigator Hannah Ace comes to Texas because of a treasure hunt for her client, she has no idea what to expect. Because she pulls her weapon at a presidential event, she’s about to meet Dylan Thompson and the entire community in a big way, especially when he tackles her to save everyone else.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eryn Grace
• Release date: Feb 20, 2020
• ISBN: 9781938350542

Eryn Grace

Eryn Grace makes her home in Wisconsin, with her husband, three grown children, and various pets. She writes as all author names on www.SweetTaleBooks.com. See her website at www.eryngrace.com.

Book preview

Chapter 1

The crowd cheered, filling the area of the new Three Cross Revival Stage. No chairs had been set out, so people milled about on the concrete floor while watching the stage. Secret Service agents covered the perimeter, so Dylan Thompson stood back, waiting for President Richardson to give a speech. Governor Monty was warming up the crowd, but Dylan watched the people instead. Force of habit, he told himself.

Austin Cole approached Dylan, dodging the people standing around. Can you believe this? There are more people here than in the entire county, I think.

The crowd cheered once more, so Dylan leaned a bit closer. With a group like this, chances are someone’s up to no good.

Buddy, you’re such a buzzkill. Austin chuckled. I’m learning new phrases from Sarah. Sarah was his six-year-old daughter. She’s gettin’ quite an education at school.

Buzzkill? She learned buzzkill? Dylan checked his watch, looking at the date. She’s out of school for the summer, right?

Yep. Austin pulled his phone from his pocket and hit a few buttons. It’s been 20 hours since school’s been out. Seventy-six days until school starts again.

A countdown already? Dylan laughed. That’s pathetic.

Yep. The school district put out an app for it, so parents know how much time is left until school starts again. He put his phone away. Niki’s teaching her a skill for the summer. Sarah’s gonna learn how to run a house. Niki was Austin’s wife, and with three kids at home, she had her hands full.

Dylan stepped back. She’s what. Six? Runnin’ a house?

Yep. Austin laughed. She has most of the skills down pat. She can cook a bit, she knows how to clean, and she’s learnin’ how do to laundry.

What are the boys doin’?

Austin sucked in a breath. David’s learnin’ how to feed himself and Christian’s learnin’ quiet time.

Dylan just laughed. That’s a good skill for Christian.

He’s up to four and a half minutes of sittin’ still.

Dylan chuckled. At the age of two, Christian was a handful, at least. It looked like David, who was almost eight months old, was going to follow in Christian’s footsteps, too, once he could run around and talk like Christian. David was just starting to stand by himself, but could crawl fast, getting into trouble more often than not.

The crowd around them clapped and hooted again.

Gov is done, Austin said in a loud voice as he clapped. Time for the president.

Yep.

Austin chuckled. I hope Andy and Rosie aren’t too nervous.

Dylan crossed his arms. At least Rosie would get kudos for saving the nation. Courage didn’t begin to explain Rosie’s character. She’d really become a great addition to the small Texas community over the past six months. Andy and Rosie were happy newlyweds, but it made Dylan jealous.

The thought of being jealous ticked Dylan off, too. God must think he was the worst person ever, from praying so much and apologizing for being so jealous. At least no one in the group knew he was jealous, because he kept it to himself. But he also kept himself scarce when it came to being around Andy and Rosie. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them—because he was. He was just sad about his own life. He was the last one in the band who was single, with no decent prospects for a wife. Was it too much to ask God to help a bachelor out? He hated the thought that he’d be alone for his life. He didn’t want to be the lone star, like the one on the Texas flag, but the older he got, the more likely that nickname might stick. Lone star Dylan just didn’t have a good ring to it.

Here come Andy and Rosie, Austin said. Keep your jealousy to yourself.

He shot Austin a puzzled look. How did Austin even know?

Dylan had to deny everything, to throw the guy off. I’m not jealous. But his tone defied him, so he had to explain. She would’ve dated me if Andy just weren’t so nerdy. There he went again, not filtering his thoughts before his mouth was in gear.

Uh-huh. Austin wasn’t listening. Instead, he stared at the stage. He never listened to Dylan’s problems anymore, because Dylan had it all together—or so everyone thought. Only God knew the truth—Dylan was a mess and couldn’t figure out how to fix his life. God was probably sick of hearing him whine about it.

The president walked out onto the stage along with Andy and Rosie. People cheered and seemed overly enthusiastic.

Dylan ignored what was going on at the front and watched the crowd standing all around them. He didn’t want to see the happiness on the stage because it would just make him feel sorry for himself.

That’s when he saw it. A very pretty long-haired blonde woman stood a few feet from him, staring into the crowd. All of a sudden, she drew a weapon. Her gaze was toward the back of the building and away from the president, so she wasn’t a threat to the stage. Even so, she shouldn’t have a gun here, of all places. She definitely wasn’t Secret Service. He had to take action and knew it in his gut, almost as if a small voice was talking to him.

Gun! Dylan screamed. He ran and tackled the woman and removed the gun from her hand. Within a minute, the Secret Service joined him, grabbed the woman, and pulled her to her feet. They yanked her to the side and the event continued. It appeared as if most of the crowd didn’t even know what had happened. The blonde woman tried to explain, but Dylan ignored her, since the agents surrounded the lady. He handed the gun to one of the agents, after making sure the safety was on.

Good job, someone said to him. He turned, seeing an agent he hadn’t met yet—and he thought he’d met them all, having helped with security. She was a very pretty brunette woman, dressed in a standard issue government suit. Her makeup was flawless, and she seemed to have everything together. She reached out and shook his hand. We owe you a debt of gratitude.

And you are?

Louise Alastair. I’m with the first lady’s detail.

That explained a lot, in Dylan’s mind. The first lady was always poised and dignified for the camera and demanded that all her staff be classy, as well. At least that’s what the news had reported.

Dylan glanced toward the stage. Kathryn Richardson is here? I didn’t think the first lady was comin’.

Louise leaned closer. It’s hush-hush. She and the kids want to meet Three Cross Faith. Louise’s expression indicated that she knew him. Dylan Thompson, I presume. You’re one of the celebrities.

Well…I’m Dylan, but no celebrity. He hated being put on a pedestal.

As the blonde shooter was handcuffed, Dylan turned toward the woman, ignoring Louise. Why would you shoot the president? he asked the pretty blonde.

I didn’t. I mean, I wasn’t going to. I wasn’t even looking at him. I’ve been trying to tell these guys. I was protecting my client.

Sure, you were, Louise muttered, and turned toward security. Find out where the local lock-up is and take her there.

But the beautiful blonde woman was right. She wasn’t looking at the stage.

It didn’t matter. She shouldn’t have a gun in this building and should’ve been stopped at the metal detectors.

Dylan turned toward Louise. I can show you where the jail’s located. I’m a P.I. in town.

Austin moved closer. We need you. Don’t go anywhere.

Oh. Right. Dylan motioned to Dan, one of his employees. The guy had worked with Rosie in the terrorist think tank. He was one of Dylan’s best employees. He was a Black man of about 30 years of age and currently not married. That meant Dylan could rely on him more because he didn’t have a wife wanting him home at night. Dan did have a girlfriend, but she understood, so he could come and go as he wanted. The guy also did great undercover work, so he was dedicated to the job more than to his girlfriend. Some day that would change, Dylan was sure. But for now, Dan and Eric—another member of the band—were his go-to right hand men.

Dan ran to Dylan’s side. Yeah, boss?

Dylan pointed. These people need to be directed to the jail and be discreet. Ride with them and I’ll be there as soon as the song’s over.

Yes, sir. But I wanted to hear the song.

Dylan hated the thought but knew Dan had been waiting for a while to hear them play one of their latest songs. You may be back in time if you hurry. Take my truck. He handed Dan the keys, since Dan had ridden with Dylan.

Thanks, boss. Dan left with the Secret Service agents. At least the jail was close by.

Dylan followed Austin backstage, but watched the blonde woman being taken out of the building. She was protecting a client? What kind of client would she have? Maybe she was a bodyguard for someone famous. There were a few celebrities in the crowd, but most of them were incognito. However, it made him realize that if she were protecting someone famous, that person now had no bodyguard. If someone wanted to hurt the person, now would be the time.

Chapter 2

Hannah Ace paced in her jail cell. At least she was alone without a cellmate, but she wasn’t happy. She was stuck in this little town while her client, William Tartan, III, was left alone. Hannah had been hired to be his bodyguard and to make sure the guy stayed out of trouble. It hadn’t been hard keeping up with the 68-year-old man who used a walker, but now, he could be anywhere, in search of the family treasure. It could be dangerous for the guy, considering his siblings and his ex-wife were hunting for the same thing and would stop at nothing to find it.

If only William’s father, Junior, hadn’t hidden the treasure and told the rest of the family about it before he was killed in a plane crash at the ripe old age of 93, Hannah would be working at home in Anchorage, waiting to go to the next contract, which was a secret. Once she started that contract in Seattle, she’d finally be able to escape her homelife, even if it might be dangerous. A scary phone call had convinced her that she’d be walking into a bad situation, and she knew there were evil people hunting for her. But she’d moved around enough with her current client to stay one step ahead of the bad guys. Even so, she didn’t want to think about that secret contract at all, putting it out of her head. She had to get her client and the treasure, and leave town. Staying in one place could be dangerous, so she really needed to get out of jail, fast.

She really needed to find that client. Her family company, Ace Investigations, was depending on this contract. She’d been promised a quarter of the treasure as payment. The thing was rumored to be worth hundreds of millions of dollars, and maybe more. William’s dad, Junior, had been worth a ton of money, but had already given some to charity. However, he’d hidden the remaining riches in this treasure to protect it from being stolen by the government—or so he thought. Eccentric and paranoid didn’t start to describe the guy.

Her client, William III, needed Hannah. At Junior’s request, William III had paid her to keep him safe, to protect him from the rest of his greedy family. He could be dead or missing. She should’ve given him a cell phone, but if she had, he wouldn’t even know how to turn it on. He definitely was old-school, making her wonder if his favorite means of communication was two cans and a string.

Maybe she shouldn’t have drawn her weapon in the crowd, but that suspicious man standing near her client did reach into his pocket. How was she to know the shady guy was just reaching for something that looked like a pen? She’d have put her weapon away if only she hadn’t been tackled.

Back and forth she paced, worrying about her client. It was her job to keep the guy safe. Now she’d botched her assignment. She could hear her dad’s voice when he found out. You had one job and you blew it. Get out. She’d heard it enough times before that she had it memorized. He’d also rehire her when he’d find her the next morning, with a stern warning. However, the next time he did that, she had a backup plan. It might be time to go with that backup plan early and just quit.

Never work with family—her new motto.

The door opened and in walked a woman and a man. The woman was very put together, making Hannah feel a bit self-conscious. However, she also looked a bit snooty. Hannah really didn’t like those types because their social lives meant everything. Even if the woman was married, she was the type who didn’t care about her husband or her kids—just her own social life.

Hannah looked over at the man, who looked vaguely familiar. Reality hit her full force, recognizing his face. Her bruised elbow practically cried out from when he’d tackled her.

She moved up closer, wrapping her hands around the bars. You tackled me. You’re the guy I should sue you for assault. I’m probably going to be black and blue for what you did to me.

The dark-haired man pointed at his chest. Sue me? For savin’ people from bein’ shot? He was rather good-looking, with dark hair, dark eyes, and a strong chin. But Hannah didn’t like the way he smiled, as if he was making fun of her.

She was good and angry. Yeah, you. Do you know what I was there for?

Yeah. The woman crossed her arms. We were protecting the president and you wanted to shoot him or the people in the crowd.

Hannah shook her head. "I wasn’t there for the president or to hurt anyone at all. I was trying to protect my client. I even checked my weapon at the gate and security knew I had a revolver. It’s standard issue for my job. Now if you want to charge me, I’ll have my father, the lawyer, come down here to take care of things and sue the lot of you." She wanted to rattle the jail bars to try to escape but knew it wouldn’t work. Calm was better, but she was having a little problem being calm at the moment.

Your lawyer daddy? The man lowered his eyes down over her. Aren’t you a bit old to have your daddy fight your battles?

Hannah seethed. He’s also co-owner of our private investigation business, along with my brothers, Peter and Paul. Maybe you’ve heard of it. Ace Investigations out of Anchorage? We’re the ones who took down a mafia organization and had a few of the members of the Komsokov syndicate arrested. They ran their operations from Seattle to Russia. She didn’t want to say more, or she’d tip her hand. She probably shouldn’t have shared that much but she was very upset with being here. They needed to know she wasn’t some innocent blonde from Hicksville.

Never heard of you, the woman said.

The man, though, stepped closer, seeming to be intrigued. One of your team went undercover for that job, playing a Russian spy a few months back. Were you the one who went by codename Ana or something?

"I was Anya. She thrust her thumb into her chest. I worked with the second in command in the Russian gang, way undercover. She took a step backward. How do you know anything about that? They kept our name and my codename out of the papers on purpose, but just described the mission."

He seemed as if it were common knowledge. I keep up with a few contacts who told me about it. They were impressed and so am I. He reached out and lifted a few strands of her hair in his hand. I remember seeing your hair in one picture. They blurred out your face, but the hair made an impact. It intrigued me that they’d fall for a blonde woman playin’ the brains behind the group.

She swiped his hand away from her head. Hey. Nothing wrong with being blonde.

He shook his head and shoved his hands into his pocket. It’s not my intention to stereotype you. But you’re not Russian. Russians usually aren’t blonde, so I was surprised they’d fall for it.

Some Russians are blonde, so you’re mistaken. She thrust out her chin. Besides, I know enough Russian to make it all believable. Dad made us learn since we may have to… She’d said too much. Never mind.

He took a step closer. May have to what?

Hide out.

He moved closer to the metal bars. Hide out from what? he all but whispered. If you’re afraid for your life, I can help. It was as if he was reading her mind.

She waved him off because he didn’t need to know anything about her current predicament. Never mind.

Once again, she’d overshared because of emotions. She really needed to get that in check.

Time was ticking. So, do I get out of here? she asked. I have to make sure my client is okay. And she had to keep moving, or the evil people might find her.

Who’s your client? the woman asked.

He’s…uh…confidential. Hannah shook her head. I can’t tell, by contract.

The woman seemed perturbed. Are you’re licensed to carry concealed in the state of Texas?

Yes. There’s a reciprocity agreement with most states for abiding Alaska gun owners, so yes, I can carry concealed in Texas. I have a concealed carry permit for Alaska—even though it’s not required yet—to be compliant with other states. I even have the paperwork for that agreement with Texas in the things that were taken from me. I had to get those agreements for many states when I went undercover for the U.S. government contract. I also have to have a gun in Alaska, for necessary protection when out in the wilderness. She eyed the woman in frustration. "Who are you, anyway?"

I’m Louise Alastair. I’m with the first lady’s detail.

Hannah’s eyebrows lifted. You’re with the Secret Service and you didn’t know about Alaska and the reciprocity agreement for concealed carry? Even the security detail knew about it when I showed them my paperwork for it being cleared with the Texas government. They were joking with me about it. They said no one should be armed but made an exception for me because I was a licensed P.I. with governmental paperwork. Hannah wasn’t happy. Oh wait. That’s below your pay grade or something, isn’t it? That’s why you didn’t know. Only us little P.I. peons know things that you people on the pedestal should know. I’m sure—

The man lifted his hand. Stop right there. Security was wrong. You shouldn’t have had a gun in there at all. I helped set up security and that was one of the rules to be enforced because of recent threats. He shook his head. You’re Hannah Ace. I’ve heard of you, the more I think about it. I’m friends with Raymond McDean, from Seattle. Do you know him?

Hannah’s eyebrows lifted and she swallowed hard. Sure do. He and Dad are buddies. At least, that’s what she wanted this guy to know. She and Raymond had talked a lot since her Russian gang contract. He was her contact for the secret contract in Seattle—the dangerous one coming up, that made her feel like she was selling her soul and could possibly meet her demise.

The man stared for a bit longer before turning to Louise. Cut her loose. I’ll take her with me. She won’t be a problem.

You’re a glutton for punishment. Louise motioned to the guard. Release the prisoner on his behalf. She pointed to the man. Good luck with that. She walked away to flirt with one of the members of the staff.

Hannah turned toward the man. Who are you, anyway?

The name’s Dylan Thompson. He crossed his arms. Ever heard of me?

Yeah. She was fibbing just a bit. The only way she knew him was from when he’d tackled her.

She wasn’t about to offer more information until she could get her phone and look the guy up to see what else he had going on in his life. Time to do a bit of reconnaissance of her own. Since Dylan knew Raymond, he could be some creep associated with the secret Seattle contract, or even be out to get the treasure for himself.

Chapter 3

Dylan stared at the woman in the cell, who lied extremely well. As beautiful as she was, he really wasn’t sure he wanted to get involved. However, he felt guilty for getting her in trouble when she was only there to do a job. He had to fix this and knew it in his heart. It was almost as if God was telling him to help Hannah, that she would be interesting to him. No one would ever understand it or understand the pull for him to tackle her back at the stage. Maybe God was answering one of his prayers.

Dylan then looked over at Louise, who was flirting with a guard. She knew her job well, was very polished, and would look good on his arm. But would she be faithful and be his friend? Not in the least. He turned back to watch Hannah, because she intrigued him. She looked like the girl-next-door and probably wouldn’t have a problem talking to Dylan like a friend. She wasn’t the type to stray, either, from what he surmised. He hated when women refused to talk because they were holding secrets or thought they were better than the man to actually hold a conversation. And dating others behind his back was what Dylan hated the most. A woman had to be a trustworthy confidante. Hannah seemed to be all of that.

He took a step back while they let Hannah out of the holding cell. Louise moved beside him and handed Dylan her card. I have to get back. You did well on stage. Call me.

They’d played only one song before they were ushered off the stage. The event was more about the president than anything else. That was nothin’, Dylan said. I’ll be in touch. Here’s my card. He reached into his pocket, produced his own business card, and handed it to Louise. I’ll be with Hannah.

Don’t let her out of your sight. I have to check with the bosses to see if she needs to have an ankle bracelet.

He was more than frustrated. You really should do that before she’s released. I don’t think this is right.

Not to worry because she’s in your custody. We’ll handle it. Her cell phone rang, so she pulled it from her pocket and sashayed away, as if flirting with Dylan. She just bugged him.

After settling the paperwork, including the bail, Dylan turned toward his new charge, who didn’t seem very happy. Hannah was handed her things, including the gun, which surprised him even more. They must not have thought she was a threat at all. Hannah pocketed all of it, shoving the gun into the back of her waistband before covering it with her t-shirt. After processing, she was free to go.

Hannah approached Dylan. I have to find my client. He might be in trouble. I’m going to lose the contract if I lose him.

Dylan crossed his arms, thinking this through. Tell me his name and I’ll have my guys find him and pick him up.

She scoffed at him. Why would you do that? You’re not law enforcement.

That was an interesting comment. You really don’t know who I am, do you?

She leaned closer, the refreshing scent of her shampoo filling his nostrils. The scent surprised him, because it made her more attractive for some weird reason. You’re the guy who tackled me, she said. I know exactly who you are. You made me lose my job and I’m not going to forget it. I just want to know why you bailed me out. Is it to alleviate your own guilt or what?

She really didn’t know who he was? He intended to inform her but not in front of anyone at the jail. They all knew him and might add a few things he didn’t need getting out just yet. Besides, how could he ever explain why he bailed her out? The fact that God had told him to do it might be a bit forward, especially if she wasn’t a Christian. Let’s discuss this on the way, he said.

She crossed her arms as if being defiant. On the way to where?

He took her arm, but didn’t move toward the door just yet. My office. We’ll find your client and even treat him well. He’s probably hangin’ out at the stage. My guys are there now. They can just pick him up and bring him to you.

But she didn’t budge. What if he’s not there?

He dropped his grasp on her arm. This here’s Texas and I have more connections than you’ll ever have. I don’t think the Secret Service would want you back at the stage. He put his hand on her upper back. We need to get this job movin’, so let’s go. He ushered her toward the door. She dropped her arms and hesitated for a moment, but he gave her a stern look. She finally made a move toward the door and kept going. He all but ran to keep up. This was going to be one interesting client.

He beeped open the doors to his truck and held the door for Hannah. Anger flashed across her face before she got into the passenger’s seat. He closed the door and headed to his side. Once he got in, he stared at her for an extra moment. You’re tough.

So? Her voice was laced with teenaged attitude, even though she was older than a teenager.

Dylan had to take the high road. Anyone who’s willing to stand up to the Russian mob has to be given kudos.

She rolled her eyes. Time is money. I can’t sit here and listen to you flirt with me. I have to get my client, or I don’t get paid.

Flirt? Hardly. Yes, she was beautiful, but she had more attitude than he wanted to deal with. He started the truck and took off for his office. It wasn’t that far, so he had a choice—he could just stay quiet for the short trip, or he could ask questions. Being the private investigator that he was, he decided on the latter. Tell me why you’re in Three Cross. Was it to see the president?

She stared out the side window. That’s classified.

Well, I’m just thinking—

I don’t want you to think, she shot back. I want my client. I have to follow him, or I lose money. I really need the money. And why did you bail me out, anyway? I want to know. Is it because you know Raymond?

The money comment was odd, so he ignored the rest. You need money? You’d think your company would be rollin’ in the cash after those busts. I also heard of another case you did down in Montana recently. That ranch’s hidden stash really gave your company a boost.

Hardly, and I should know. I was the one who found the ranch money the owner’s nephew stole and gave it back to the owner. He only paid me half what he promised since his family had done the crime. He was even nasty about it, cursing me out. I got out of there, fast. Now, our company now has…um…discretionary cash issues. We need this job and any future jobs, fast. She checked her watch. When are you going to call your guys to find my client? I can just get him, instead.

No. I don’t think you’d be welcome there right now. He wasn’t concerned about the client because he knew his people and knew the area. It’ll be okay. I’m sure the client’s not goin’ anywhere. It almost sounded like their company had money stolen from them. Not being paid what was promised wasn’t right, either. I can help investigate discretionary cash issues. Free of charge, too. No one would even know I was snooping.

You? She scoffed. You know nothing about this. You’re not trained to help. You’re probably one of those Texas cowboy wannabes who works in an office pushing papers around.

He wanted to laugh. But this wasn’t the time to spout off his background. It was better to stay silent and let her put her foot in her mouth. It might make her come down off her pedestal.

God wouldn’t want him even thinking this, but he really wanted to one-up Hannah. She seemed so high and mighty. He considered this situation like training a horse. Once you teach an untrained filly who’s boss, the rest is easy to deal with.

Hannah was no horse, but she behaved badly like she was uppity. Dylan chastised himself, realizing he shouldn’t judge her. There might be a reason for her attitude, and if he stepped back, he understood. She was out a client and worked for family. They’d probably be rougher on her than a regular employee.

He had to be nice to her. I have to come clean. I’m not just some innocent bystander. I play with the Three Cross Faith Band. That’s why I didn’t help out and take you to the jail myself. They’d be short a band member if I did.

Never heard of your band. She crossed her arms. Why would you be the one to send me to jail…and then bail me out? You never did answer my question on why you did that.

He couldn’t answer the bail question just yet. I had Dan, one of my employees, direct the Secret Service to the jail, so it wasn’t me. Another one of my employees could’ve taken you, but he was also in the band. Eric would’ve been perfect, but then we wouldn’t have a drummer.

What’s an…Eric?

She really didn’t know about the band at all, which told him she wasn’t Christian. Everyone in the world had heard of Three Cross Faith—or so he’d assumed, because of all the troubles they’d had in previous years.

This woman needed an education and Dylan intended to gain her respect. Eric’s a cop. Undercover, but he works for me. I’m a private investigator, too, with a background in law enforcement. I, along with a bunch of my friends, helped Rosie bring down those terrorists when she brought us the information.

Rosie. Hannah stared, her mouth falling open as she uncrossed her arms. Rosie McCord. I heard about that. Everyone was praying for her in our town when she was sick. Even Dad and my brothers were praying. She was up on the stage with the president, wasn’t she?

Yes. He thought for a moment. But you didn’t pray for her?

Nope. She crossed her arms again and sucked in a breath. Long story.

At least her family was Christian, but she only mentioned her dad and brothers. And not your mother?

She turned to look out the side window. Nope. She can’t.

The mom had probably left them. Can’t?

Nope. Hannah spun back to see Dylan. Just get me some place where I can find my client, even if it’s just near that stage where you tackled me. This is really important. I need the money more than ever.

What for?

She hesitated, speaking volumes to him. Stuff, she said. It’s not your problem.

He had to know more. Did someone steal from you, other than the Montana job?

I can’t discuss it. Do you have a way I can track my client? He might still be bugged, unless he found the tracking device in his shoe.

A tracking device? She was clever so he’d probably be easy to find. I have more than that. I have people to help you, so you’re not on your own. I promise they’ll be discreet, too. They all work for me. He held out his hand for her to shake. Partners until you find your client? He pulled into the lot of the building that housed his many businesses.

She stared at him, and then at his hand. I can’t afford your wages.

Free. No charge. Deal?

After a moment, she finally shook it, the warmth of her fingertips surprising him. Yes, with conditions, she said.

Conditions? He parked the truck but had to see her hand, which was still in his, since it almost felt like an electric jolt. However, when he looked down, her thin fingers didn’t look any different from any other woman’s hand. It was odd but he really didn’t want to let go, the warmth making him feel alive for some reason.

Hannah leaned closer, that familiar shampoo scent hitting him hard as she held onto his hand. What was wrong with him? He never let a woman get to him like this and never felt like this before. Her amazing shampoo and that hot handshake? He must’ve been losing it. He really needed to call some other safe woman to date. Even Louise would be easier to handle because he could keep her at a distance, and she wouldn’t make him feel like this—alive and interested. But Hannah? Just the presence of her near him seemed to bring down a wall he’d built up. He had to think it was just good chemistry between them, which positively terrified him. This was uncharted territory for him—to be truly interested in a woman and not just use her for her looks.

Yes, conditions. Hannah’s minty breath brought him back to reality. I’m in charge.

He shook her hand again because it felt odd to hold onto it for no reason. That’s sort of a deal. He chuckled and got out of the truck.

She ran to catch up to him. Sort of?

He couldn’t let her get to him or let her know he was interested. It’s my business and my state, but I’ll humor you.

Humor me? She stopped walking and thrust her hands on her hips. I said I’m in charge.

He moved closer, watching her blue eyes almost glisten in the sunshine. He had to stay focused, but she was very pretty. Keep someone like Louise in mind, he told himself, since there was no chemistry between him and the first lady’s detail. However, Hannah took life on, not hesitating. That intrigued him more than a woman who seemed to have it all. However, he didn’t want to go outside his comfort zone, so he stuck to the original plan of dating someone like Louise. Keep it safe and status quo, he told himself.

Dylan sucked in a breath because it was time to take control of this situation. Yep. You can be in charge until you step on my toes. Until then, we’re partners.

She rolled her eyes again, the long, curled ends of her hair bouncing as she shook her head slightly, seeming to be annoyed. Fine. Let’s get this done so I can ditch Texas and get back home. I have things to do and I’m on a timeline.

Yep. That’s the plan. The sooner he got away from her, the better. She was dangerous to the walls he built. Besides, he had other non-scary women to talk to, including snobby Louise.

Chapter 4

Hannah paced in Dylan’s office while he talked to various people on the phone. She should be out hunting for her client, because William could be anywhere. She didn’t have any time to waste, either, to save her own life after that scary phone call. Hank, his dog, wouldn’t help keep William safe. The dog was so small, he couldn’t protect William even if he wanted to.

She stopped pacing and stared at Dylan. Even though he was handsome, he was a thorn in her side. He didn’t seem to be in any rush, probably because he didn’t know all the details. By contract, she couldn’t even tell him anything more, but she could stress the urgency of finding William. She also needed to eat, the familiar empty feeling giving her pains in her stomach. If she didn’t get something soon, she’d pass out. It’d happened before, so she knew it was coming. If only Dylan wasn’t taking so long, she could get her rental car and stop for a bite to eat while on her way to find William and his dog.

Dylan looked up from where he’d been reading over papers while on the phone. What’s the guy’s name? he asked Hannah.

She bit her lips. By contract, she couldn’t tell anything. She had to find William fast, or it would get back to her dad and to Raymond. Both men knowing she’d failed worried her. If Raymond found out that she’d stalled in the timetable, he could call for her right now to start the secret contract—the job that she dreaded.

Dylan continued to stare at her, the phone at his ear. This is kind of an emergency, don’t ya think? I need the guy’s details.

Fine, but I pay my way. I just can’t pay you until I get paid.

He shook his head. No money, like I said before. Just a friendly gesture between fellow investigators. If this guy can pay a P.I. to come to Texas, then you deserve it all.

She fell into a chair on the other side of the desk more out of weakness than anything else. She felt pretty rotten but had to hide it from Dylan. His name’s William Tartan, III. He’s here with his dog. That was all she was willing to tell. If her family knew she’d told this much, she’d be in big trouble. Her goal was to get William back before any of her family or Raymond found out. She just hoped Dylan didn’t tell Raymond any of this.

William Tartan, III, Dylan said, over the phone. At the same time, he worked on the computer in front of him. Wait. This guy? He turned the monitor so she could see the screen.

There, before her, was a picture of her client from his sister’s social media account, so Hannah nodded.

Dylan blinked twice and sat back on his chair with a huff, still on the phone. He uses a walker. Did you find anyone like that? He listened for a moment. He’s not there? The guy’s like over 90.

He’s only 68, Hannah said. He just aged badly due to a failed marriage and an ex-wife that wants everything.

I can’t think he’s gotten far, Dylan mumbled, still on the phone. He’s probably still at the stage somewhere, inching toward the entrance like a snail. He thought for a moment. Actually, I think a snail could outrun this guy.

Hannah stood up. Let’s go look for him, then. He’s with Hank, his dog. William tells everyone Hank’s a service dog, so Hank can go everywhere with him. But Hank has no training. It’s obvious he’s not a service dog. The dog’s leash is clipped to the walker, if that’s any help.

Dylan lifted one finger and returned to the phone. Old guy, gray. He chuckled. I know. Half the men there look like that. But this guy uses a walker and has a dog with him. Dylan looked up at Hannah. What type of dog?

A Shih Tzu.

God bless you, Dylan said. What type of dog?

Hannah rolled her eyes. I didn’t sneeze. That’s the dog. A Shih Tzu. She grabbed the mouse and the keyboard and typed it into the browser, so Dylan could see a picture of the breed. That’s a Shih Tzu.

Dylan’s expression indicated annoyance. That’s not a dog. That’s a puppy.

No, it’s a full-grown dog. William gets it groomed with a puppy cut, but normally, they have long flowing fur that reaches the floor. The thing is very nice and friendly. It’s not a good guard dog and licks everyone.

Dylan grunted. I can see why he’d want to get away from that thing. It looks like an overgrown rat.

Hannah couldn’t believe it. This guy was something else. Just help me find William, will you? I also put a tracking device in his shoe, but he didn’t know it.

Dylan returned to the phone. Dan. Old guy with walker and a… He looked up at Hannah. What kind of dog was that again?

A Shih Tzu named Hank.

He paused and blew out a breath. A Hank dog. Dylan appeared to be perturbed as he talked into the phone. You got that? He chuckled. You even know what that beast looks like? He laughed even harder. "You’re a good man, Dan. Hunt for him. If you can’t find him, we’ll search for the