Daddy Devastating

Daddy Devastating
Delores Fossen

Daddy Devastating

Delores Fossen

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

Table of Contents

Cover (#u769e1c8b-9092-5036-affe-9640bc38b6df)

Title Page (#u8cef87f9-ffd1-552e-9e35-5f3eba6ff6de)

Chapter One (#ulink_98987d47-1fbb-5ac2-b597-88184825a118)

Chapter Two (#ulink_795958b2-0490-52d7-8da5-952e183e79cb)

Chapter Three (#ulink_187a449f-dfdf-5f70-abd9-f3e658e43d7a)

Chapter Four (#ulink_4c1192e8-436e-5095-9516-94f977568af1)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One (#ulink_53978c7f-dd27-5fa2-970b-f59f8b15b439)

San Saba, Texas

Russ Gentry cursed under his breath when the brunette stepped through the doors of the Silver Dollar bar.

Hell.

She’d followed him.

He had spotted her about fifteen minutes earlier on the walk from his hotel to the bar. She had trailed along behind him in her car, inching up the street, as if he were too stupid or blind to notice her or her sleek silver Jaguar. He had decided to ignore her for the time being anyway, because he’d hoped she was lost.

Obviously not.

Now, he had two questions—who was she? And was this about to turn even more dangerous than it already was?

He watched her from over the top of the bottle of Lone Star beer that the bartender had just served him. She was tall—five-nine, or better—and she was clutching a key ring that had a small can of pepper spray hooked onto it. There was a thin, gold-colored purse tucked beneath her arm, but it didn’t have any telltale bulges of a weapon, and her snug blue dress skimmed over her curvy body, so that carrying concealed would have been next to impossible.

Heck, in that dress concealing a paper-thin nicotine patch would have been a challenge. It was a garment obviously meant to keep her cool on a scalding-hot Texas day.

It did the opposite of making him cool.

Under different circumstances, Russ might have taken the time to savor the view, and he might have even made an attempt to hit on her.

But this wasn’t different circumstances.

He’d learned the hard way that even a momentary lapse of concentration could have deadly results. As a reminder of that, he rubbed his fingers over the scar just to the left of his heart. The reminder, however, didn’t help when the woman made eye contact.

With Willie Nelson blaring from the jukebox, she wended her way through the customers seated at the mismatched tables scattered around the room. The neon sign on the wall that advertised tequila flashed an assortment of tawdry colors over her.

Without taking her gaze from him, she stopped only a few inches away. Close enough for Russ to catch her scent. She smelled high priced and looked high maintenance.

“We need to talk,” she said, and slid onto the barstool next to him, her silky dress whispering against the leather seat.

Oh, man. Keeping her here would hardly encourage his informant to make contact. Hell, the only thing her presence would do was create problems for him.

“I’m not interested, darlin’,” Russ grumbled, hoping that his surly attitude would cause her to leave.

It didn’t.

“Well, I’m interested in you,” she said, her voice much louder than Willie’s.

In fact, she was loud enough to attract the few customers who hadn’t already noticed her when she walked in. Of course, with her sex-against-the-bathroom-wall body, Russ figured she’d likely caught the attention of every one of the male patrons.

He eased his beer down onto the bar and turned slightly, so he could look her in the eyes. “Back off,” he warned, under his breath.

“I can’t.”