Heartbreaker Read online

  He’ll risk everything to rescue her...

  Ex-military man Thorn Grayson has debts to pay. So when a plane crashes in the mountains near his cabin, he’s hired to find the wreckage—and the kidnapped woman believed to be the sole survivor. But when he locates Geneva, or “JJ” as she insists on being called, she’s not at all what he expected.

  JJ isn’t sure she can trust the mysterious man who’s come to her rescue. But she has secrets of her own—secrets she’ll do anything to keep. So she’ll follow his instructions and keep her distance to get off this mountain alive without blowing her cover. As dangerous conditions force them together—and the undeniable chemistry between them ignites—he’ll protect her at any cost. But when the morning light comes, will the truth tear them apart?

  Praise for New York Times

  bestselling author B.J. Daniels

  “Daniels is a perennial favorite on the romantic suspense front, and I might go as far as to label her the cowboy whisperer.”

  —BookPage on Luck of the Draw

  “Daniels keeps readers baffled with a taut plot and ample red herrings, expertly weaving in the threads of the next story in the series as she introduces a strong group of primary and secondary characters.”

  —Publishers Weekly on Stroke of Luck

  “Daniels again turns in a taut, well-plotted, and suspenseful tale with plenty of red herrings. Readers will be in from the start and engaged until the end.”

  —Library Journal on Stroke of Luck

  “Readers who like their romance spiced with mystery can’t go wrong with Stroke of Luck by B.J. Daniels.”

  —BookPage

  “Daniels is an expert at combining layered characters, quirky small towns, steamy chemistry and added suspense.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Hero’s Return

  “B.J. Daniels has made Cowboy’s Legacy quite a nail-biting, page-turner of a story. Guaranteed to keep you on your toes.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  Also available from B.J. Daniels

  and HQN

  Montana Justice

  Restless Hearts

  Sterling’s Montana

  Stroke of Luck

  Luck of the Draw

  Just His Luck

  The Montana Cahills

  Renegade’s Pride

  Outlaw’s Honor

  Cowboy’s Legacy

  Cowboy’s Reckoning

  Hero’s Return

  Rancher’s Dream

  Wrangler’s Rescue

  The Montana Hamiltons

  Wild Horses

  Lone Rider

  Lucky Shot

  Hard Rain

  Into Dust

  Honor Bound

  Beartooth, Montana

  Mercy

  Atonement

  Forsaken

  Redemption

  Unforgiven

  New York Times Bestselling Author

  B.J. Daniels

  Heartbreaker

  This one is for Mariah Kowceun-Marino, copresident of the Malta Hands All Around Quilt Club, and one of the most talented women I know. It is a joy to be copresident with you. And an even bigger joy to watch that creative mind of yours at work.

  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

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM AMBUSH BEFORE SUNRISE BY B.J. DANIELS

  CHAPTER ONE

  HER EYES FLEW OPEN, her fight-or-flight response already wide-awake. She jerked up in the bed, blinking wildly, terrified and yet unable to believe what she was seeing. Three hulking dark forms appeared out of the shadows of the huge master bedroom. One of the men tripped over her duffel bag on the floor where she’d dropped it. He swore as he kicked it out of the way.

  She tried hopelessly to banish the men back into whatever nightmare they’d climbed out of, realizing the stumble must have been what had awakened her.

  All she could think rationally was that this couldn’t be happening, because these men being here tonight was so wrong.

  But before she could open her mouth to speak—let alone scream—the largest of the three intruders reached her side of the king-size bed. Roughly he pushed her down and clamped a gloved hand over her mouth. This was real.

  She finally screamed, but the gloved hand over her mouth muffled the sound. Not that it would have done any good if she had hollered to bloody hell. There was no one else in the house to come to her rescue—let alone anyone nearby. The house was high on the mountainside overlooking Flathead Lake, surrounded by acres of forest and as isolated as money could buy.

  Frantically she shook her head as she met the man’s eyes, the only feature not hidden by his black ski mask, and tried to communicate with him that she wasn’t the woman he wanted.

  “Don’t fight me,” the man said in a hoarse whisper as he renewed his efforts to hold her down. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

  But she did fight because they were making a terrible mistake and they didn’t know it. That realization sent panic rocketing through her system. Her heart banged against her rib cage, her thundering pulse deafening in her ears. She fought to pull the clamp from her mouth.

  If she could only explain the error they were making. Failing in her attempts to pull away his gloved hand, she struck out with her fists as her legs kicked wildly to free themselves from the covers. All she’d managed to do was make things worse. He leaned over her, pressing his body weight against her chest with his forearm, taking away her breath.

  “Did you find it?” the man holding her down demanded of the other two. They had produced flashlights, she saw, and were now searching the room. She could hear one of them at the dressing table knocking over bottles of expensive perfume and rejuvenating skin creams.

  Moments later, as she tried to breathe, she saw the smaller of the men motion to the larger man that he’d found something. “Got it.” He pocketed what appeared to be a cell phone before the men turned to her.

  Hope soared. They’d found whatever they’d come for. Now maybe they would leave the way they’d come in, like phantoms in the night. It wasn’t as if she’d seen their faces.

  Her slender thread of hope died as she heard the man holding her down say, “Help me with her.” The words sent a fresh stab of alarm coursing through her. She fought even harder. Kicking free of the covers, she got a leg out and struck the smallest of the men in his masked face as he tried to grab her legs. She felt his nose give under her heel and make a loud pop. He let out a wounded cry as he backed off.

  “Damn it,” the first man said. “I need help here.”

  The other intruder, the one who’d been searching the room earlier, climbed on
the bed, crawling across the king-size mattress toward her. She caught him in the jaw with her fist before he pinned her arms down as he climbed on top of her.

  She struggled to breathe from the weight of him, gagging. What had he eaten tonight? Pizza with anchovies? She tried to turn her head away as she bucked in an attempt to throw him off her, but he was too heavy. All she could do was heave and squirm under him, horrified at what these men now planned to do with her. To her.

  “Come here,” ordered the man who still had her mouth covered. The one she’d kicked in the face approached, still holding one of his gloved hands over his bleeding nose. “Cover her mouth.”

  She caught the angry glint in the man’s pale eyes before the men made the switch. She tried to tell them about the mistake they were making, but before she could get out more than a word and a breath, the broken-nose man covered her mouth roughly with his bloody glove. She gagged at the smell and feel of the warm, sticky liquid on her lips. But it was the look in his eyes that sent her heart rate off the charts.

  He would kill her if he got the chance.

  Panic had her inhaling sharply through her nose as she watched in growing terror as the first man pulled a syringe from his coat pocket. She fought with all the strength she had left in her. But even as she did, she knew it was useless. She stood no chance against three men. She felt him jab the needle into her neck as she continued to fight until her body went limp.

  As she lay like a rag doll, helpless on the bed, she heard a sound that turned her blood to ice. Someone was tearing duct tape into strips.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FRANKLIN DAVENPORT HAD let the staff go for the night. He poured himself a drink even though he should have gone to bed hours ago. His estate on Whitefish Lake was blissfully quiet, just the way he liked it. Friends thought he had to be lonely after his wife’s death all those years ago. But he’d had his granddaughter living with him until recently. He’d been sad to see Geneva go, but she’d wanted a house of her own.

  For a while, she’d taken the drama with her. At sixty-five, he felt he deserved a quiet life after spending years accumulating his fortune. But with Geneva, there was always something. Recently it had been money. She wanted more. He wanted her to do something with her life. Anything.

  He had cut her allowance and canceled her credit cards. You would think he’d beaten her, the way she went on about it.

  Now the twenty-two-year-old wasn’t speaking to him. It was a nice reprieve even though he knew it wouldn’t last. He should feel guilty. Geneva was all the family he had. But with her, it was always something—just like it had been with her mother. The past few days he’d been enjoying the peace and quiet even though he knew it couldn’t last.

  His landline rang. He glanced at the time, wondering who would be calling him at this hour. His associates knew to call only during business hours. He let it ring, feeling only a little guilty. Geneva knew better than to call this late.

  The landline quit ringing. He had a moment of silence before his cell phone started in.

  With a silent curse, he put down his drink and pulled out his cell. Only a very few people had his cell phone number. His granddaughter was one of them.

  He glanced at the screen. Geneva. He swore and let it ring yet again. What kind of trouble could she be in now? The last time she’d gotten arrested, she’d tried the landline first and then his cell.

  But this time he suspected it would be another plea for money. She always made him feel guilty.

  “It isn’t like you can’t afford it,” she would say.

  “Yes, I’ve worked hard my whole life for this money.”

  She would roll her eyes and say, “And you’ll never be able to spend it all. I’m your only family. What is the point? Besides, one day I will have it all anyway.”

  “Unless I decide to leave it all to charity,” he would threaten, and watch her pale in horror before he would give in and agree to buy her whatever it was she wanted.

  He wasn’t in the mood now for another tearful discussion about his decision to cut her allowance—especially at this time of the night. He should have done it the moment she dropped out of college. He should have done a lot of things differently when it came to her. He’d made mistakes with her mother, and now he felt as if history was repeating itself.

  The phone quit ringing. He was ashamed of how glad he was that he hadn’t taken the call. He hadn’t talked to Geneva in almost a week. They hadn’t just argued about money. His granddaughter had terrible taste in companions. He often thought she couldn’t make a good decision if her life depended on it. But this latest boyfriend was the worst she’d brought home yet.

  He started to raise his glass to his lips when his cell phone began clamoring again, and he began to worry. Maybe something really was wrong. He would never forgive himself if she was in real trouble and he’d refused to answer the call.

  Even before he touched the screen on his cell phone to accept the call, he knew this was going to ruin his evening.

  “Franklin Davenport?”

  The unearthly electronically altered voice made his pulse spike. He didn’t remember saying yes, but he must have said something because the voice continued.

  “We have your granddaughter. If you go to the authorities, we will kill her. Get ten million dollars together. We will contact you soon.” The line went dead.

  Over the pounding of his heart, Franklin Davenport listened to the silence on the other end of the line as the caller’s words reverberated in his head. Picking up his drink, he downed it. For a moment, he thought about calling the cops since he hated being threatened. He had built a media empire by not being intimidated by anyone.

  But while he might risk his own life, he couldn’t risk Geneva’s. No matter how much they disagreed, he loved his granddaughter. He tried her cell. It went straight to voice mail.

  He stood for a moment before he placed a call to the one person he trusted with his life—and now Geneva’s.

  When Judge W. T. Landusky answered, he said, “Willie, it’s Franklin. I’m so sorry to call you at this hour and wake you.” His voice broke.

  “You didn’t wake me. I was reading. What’s wrong, Franklin?”

  He’d always known that if he were ever in trouble, Willie would be there for him. They shared a bond that he knew he could always depend on.

  “I just got a call. My granddaughter’s been kidnapped. The man who called said that they would kill her if I...” He couldn’t go on for a moment. He cleared his throat and told his friend what he knew, answering the judge’s questions. “Geneva...she’s everything to me, Willie. I can’t—” He couldn’t finish.

  Fortunately, he didn’t have to. “If you hear from her, let me know. Otherwise, just sit tight and let me see what I can find out. I’m on my way.”

  “Willie,” he said before the judge could hang up, “I have a tracking device on her phone. It’s state of the art. I forgot all about it until this moment. Let me check it.” He called it up on his phone, his fingers trembling, but his stomach no longer roiling as badly as earlier. Everything was going to be all right. He had to believe that.

  The screen came up. “That’s odd,” he said, frowning. “It appears she’s moving very fast, headed southeast.”

  * * *

  SHE WOKE TO BUZZING. At first she thought it was only in her aching head. Her mouth felt dry as cotton. She licked her lips, remnants of memory teasing at her as she gagged at the taste. A terrified feeling settled in her stomach, making her afraid to come fully awake for fear it had all been real.

  She slowly opened her eyes. Her heart dropped as she saw where she was—in the back seat of a small airplane. A bout of nausea hit her as the craft dipped and bobbed through the darkness.

  Panic rushed at her, making her want to scream. She fought back the hysteria as her survival instincts kicked in. Don’t move. Let them thin
k you’re still knocked out from the drug. You don’t want them to shoot you up again.

  Slowly, moving nothing but her eyes, she took in her situation. She was alive. She didn’t think they had sexually assaulted her. Her hands were duct-taped in front of her at her wrists, but she could tell that her ankles were free. She was glad of that—not that she was going anywhere. At least not yet.

  They’d dressed her in her jeans along with the T-shirt she’d been sleeping in and a sweater she’d never seen before. She could feel shoes on her feet. Wiggling her toes, she thought they were her sneakers. So where was her duffel bag? The men would have no reason to bring it along. It was probably back at the house. Her pulse spiked, but she quickly assured herself that her overnight bag wasn’t the worst of her problems right now.

  She dared a look to her left. The man with the broken nose was asleep, snoring loudly, in the accompanying seat. She glanced up front at the pilot in the seat diagonally from hers. She guessed that he was the largest of the men, the one who’d been giving the orders earlier in the bedroom.

  From the smell of stale pizza, she surmised that the third man was in the seat in front of her. Outside the windshield, she could see nothing but darkness—at first. Then she saw what looked like a mountain coming up fast, and with a start realized how low the plane was flying. She could see the tops of pines not all that far below her window.

  Where was he taking her that he was flying so low?

  That frantic thought was quickly forgotten as she saw the pilot and the man in the front begin to talk animatedly, clearly trying to keep their voices down. She picked up only a few words over the loud buzzing of the plane’s single prop engine, but she caught enough to terrify her.

  Something was wrong. She heard the distress in the pilot’s voice. Lost. They were lost? Her panic shot up along with her pulse. Could this get any worse?

  As if sensing the sudden tension at the front of the plane, the man next to her suddenly jerked awake. She quickly closed her eyes. Through her lashes, she watched him lean forward. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?” he asked.