Christmas Guardian

Christmas Guardian
Delores Fossen

Christmas Guardian

Delores Fossen

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

Table of Contents

Cover (#ued51dd5b-2bb8-5165-a67f-f11ff9ffe25c)

Title Page (#u23719f76-20d3-5eed-9f40-3b53d4e81118)

About the Author (#ulink_061a2ab2-8785-53bb-aff1-28b6e59fb9aa)

Dedication (#ue2bca89e-56ee-5e7e-b38e-35f69f84cb5d)

Prologue (#ulink_8e0439a6-ede6-530c-add5-d328b76e0ba8)

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

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Author (#ulink_d2156912-dd49-5da2-a229-5f26e505e91c)

Imagine a family tree that includes Texas cowboys, Choctaw and Cherokee Indians, a Louisiana pirate and a Scottish rebel who battled side by side with William Wallace. With ancestors like that, it’s easy to understand why Texas author and former air force captain DELORES FOSSEN feels as if she were genetically predisposed to writing romances. Along the way to fulfilling her DNA destiny, Delores married an air force top gun who just happens to be of Viking descent. With all those romantic bases covered, she doesn’t have to look too far for inspiration.

To Dakota and Danielle

Prologue (#ulink_63a1672b-e08f-5715-852d-dadbcc56c211)

San Antonio, Texas

Jordan Taylor heard the pounding, but it took him a moment to realize it wasn’t part of the nightmare he’d been having. Someone was banging on his door.

He checked the clock on the nightstand. Three in the morning. He cursed, threw back the covers and grabbed his Sig Sauer, because visits at this time of morning were never good.

“Jordan, open up!” a woman said. Not a shout, exactly, but close.

He recognized that voice and cursed again. Shelly Mackey, his ex, both as a business associate and a girlfriend. He wouldn’t need the Sig Sauer. Well, probably not. Since he hadn’t seen or heard from Shelly in months and since her voice sounded a couple of steps beyond frantic, Jordan decided to bring the gun with him anyway.

“You have to help me!” Shelly insisted. She continued to pound on the door. “Please. Hurry.”

That got him moving faster. Shelly wasn’t the drama queen type. Jordan didn’t bother to dress. He pulled on only his boxers and raced out of his bedroom.

Her voice wasn’t coming from the front of the house, he realized, but from the door off his kitchen. Jordan sprinted that way.

But the pounding stopped.

He stopped, too, just short of the door. He waited a moment. Listened.

And heard nothing.

“Shelly?” he called out.

Still nothing. That gave him another jolt of adrenaline. Shelly was likely in big trouble.

Jordan lifted his gun as he reached for the doorknob. Then, he heard it. The sound of a car engine.

Someone was driving away. Not fast. More like easing away, the tires barely whispering on the brick driveway that encircled his house. Jordan unlocked the door, jerked it open, but he caught only a flash of the bloodred taillights before the car disappeared into the darkness.

With his gun aimed, he shot glances around his heavily landscaped yard. He didn’t see anyone, but the soft grunt he heard had him aiming his attention lower. To the porch.

There was a basket with a blanket draped over it.

“What the hell?” he mumbled.