Sylvie Kurtz - Under Lock And Key

Once the question was out, Melissa held her breath, not quite sure she wanted a response.

“I see pain. I see courage. I see strength.”

Emptiness, yearning, whistled through her, making her sway. “Do you see a woman?”

“Yes.” He placed his hand over her heart. Something in her sighed.

“I want to know…” Brashly she stepped forward and pressed her lips to his, lingering, absorbing the long slow shiver that went through her. She felt her blood heat. “I want to know…” she murmured against his lips. “I need—”

“Melissa…”

“I need—” Hot tears squeezed between her closed eyelids.

He kissed the line of tears, making them gush faster.

“Please, Tyler…” She wasn’t sure if she was asking him to stop or to continue.

“I promise not to hurt you,” he said between drugging kisses that made her weak.

“It’s already too late for that,” she whispered as she pressed herself closer to him….

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

Spring is in the air…and so is mystery. And just as always, Harlequin Intrigue has a spectacular lineup of breathtaking romantic suspense for you to enjoy.

Continuing her oh-so-sexy HEROES INC. trilogy, Susan Kearney brings us Defending the Heiress—which should say it all. As if anyone wouldn’t want to be personally protected by a hunk!

Veteran Harlequin Intrigue author Caroline Burnes has crafted a super Southern gothic miniseries. THE LEGEND OF BLACKTHORN has everything—skeletons in the closet, a cast of unique characters and even a handsome masked phantom who rides a black stallion. And can he kiss! Rider in the Mist is the first of two classic tales.

The Cradle Mission by Rita Herron is another installment in her NIGHTHAWK ISLAND series. This time a cop has to protect his dead brother’s baby and the beautiful woman left to care for the child. But why is someone dead set on rocking the cradle…?

Finally, Sylvie Kurtz leads us down into one woman’s horror—so deep, she’s all but unreachable…until she meets and trusts one man to lead her out of the darkness in Under Lock and Key.

We hope you savor all four titles and return again next month for more exciting stories.

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For Chuck, who loves me—ugly side and all

A Special Thanks to:

Susan Amann at the Wadleigh Memorial Library and Kelly at Dr. Chatson’s office (Nashua Plastic Surgery) for their help with research.

Mary Jernigan for sharing her experience.

Flying an eight-hour solo cross-country in a Piper Arrow with only the airplane’s crackling radio and a large bag of M&M’s for company, Sylvie Kurtz realized a pilot’s life wasn’t for her. The stories zooming in and out of her mind proved more entertaining than the flight itself. Not a quitter, she finished her pilot’s course and earned her commercial license and instrument rating.

Since then, she has traded in her wings for a keyboard, where she lets her imagination soar to create fictional adventures that explore the power of love and the thrill of suspense. When not writing, she enjoys the outdoors with her husband and two children, quilt making, photography and reading whatever catches her interest.

You can write to Sylvie at

P.O. Box 702, Milford, NH 03055.

And visit her Web site at www.sylviekurtz.com.

Melissa Carnes —Someone is stirring the pot of her “witch” reputation in order to scare her off her land.

Tyler Blackwell —He has a debt to pay and will honor his promise to keep Melissa safe.

Lindsey Blackwell —Did Tyler’s wife have to die?

Freddy Gold —Melissa’s uncle has a hunch that something evil is afoot at Thornwylde.

Ray Lundy —The stable manager is looking for a job promotion.

William Carnes —Melissa’s father may have started his rich career with a lie.

Sable Lorel Carnes —She married Melissa’s father for his money and isn’t pleased she wasn’t given control over his billions when he died.

Tia Carnes —How badly does Melissa’s half sister want to catch her man?

Sheriff Tate —Believes the “witch” stories only too gladly.

J. R. Randall —The philanthropic businessman wants something that isn’t his.

4 oz unsweetened dark baking chocolate

¾ cup butter

2 cups sugar

3 eggs

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup flour

1 cup coarsely chopped pecans, toasted to bring out flavor

1 cup semisweet chocolate chunks

Heat oven to 350°F. Line a 13" x 9" baking pan with foil, extending over the edges to form handles. Grease foil.

Microwave the unsweetened chocolate and butter in large microwavable bowl on High for 2 minutes—or until the butter is melted. Stir until the chocolate is melted.

Stir sugar into chocolate mixture until well blended. Mix in eggs and vanilla. Stir in flour, nuts and chocolate chunks until well blended. Spread in prepared pan.

Bake 30 to 35 minutes or until toothpick inserted in center comes out with fudgy crumbs. Do not overbake.

Cool in pan. Lift out of pan by foil handles. Place onto a cutting board. Cut into squares. Makes 24.

Can be stored in a cool, dry place. Do not refrigerate.

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

“I thought you were my friend.” Tyler Blackwell loomed above the seated Freddy Gold, owner and editor-in-chief of Texas Gold. How could Freddy ask something like this from him knowing where he was coming from? Wasn’t it hard enough for him to start again? But to start like this? Tyler blasted his friend with every expletive he knew.

Freddy calmly leaned back in his cordovan-leather chair and stared at him.

“Tyler, it’s precisely because you’re my friend that I’m giving you this assignment.” Freddy turned away from him in his swivel chair and went back to work. “I owe her, Tyler. It’s the least I can do. And you owe me. So I’m calling in my chip. Make sure nothing happens to Melissa Carnes.”

What did Freddy have to do with her? She was nothing but a crazy artist who never came out of her self-imposed isolation. And Freddy had a dozen journalists on staff who’d kill for an opportunity to ingratiate themselves to the boss. “Why me?”

“I trust you. I don’t dare trust anyone else when it comes to my niece.”

“Your niece? Freddy—”

“She needs a champion. For once, she needs someone on her side.”

Tyler sneered. The last time he’d tried to be a champion, his wife had died. “If it’s a champion you’re looking for, you’re looking in the wrong place.”

“I know that if you give me your word, you won’t bail out on me until the job’s done. You’ll keep her safe.”

“After Lindsey, you can still say that?”

“Because of Lindsey, yes.”

That vote of confidence silenced him for a while. Since Lindsey’s death, even he didn’t trust himself.

“I know you,” Freddy said. “I’ve taught you everything you know.”

Tyler had come a long way since he and Freddy had been beat journalists together ten years ago. Tyler was just starting then, and Freddy was getting ready to move on to bigger and better things. Freddy had indeed taught him everything he knew. But some things you couldn’t prepare for, and no amount of training could get you ready for some blows. Still, Freddy was always there for him—even when everyone else had given up—and that loyalty had to count for something.

“So who’s this big bad wolf who’s after your little lamb?” Tyler asked, sinking into one of Freddy’s well-appointed leather chairs. He’d hear what Freddy had to say. Then he’d lay out a rational argument as to why he couldn’t take on the responsibility of looking out for someone else. Freddy would have to listen to logic.

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“It’s a feeling…” He shrugged.

Tyler stared incredulously at his friend. “Freddy Gold’s calling in a chip on a feeling?”

“Yeah.”

Seeing Freddy so unsure of himself was strange. Tyler contemplated the man in front of him, noticed through his haze of frustration that Freddy had aged seemingly overnight. His jowls, usually so easy to jiggle with laughter, sagged. Puffed smudges made purple half-moons beneath his eyes. Lines spidered from the corners of his mouth.

“So what exactly is it you want me to do?” Tyler asked.

“I want you to protect her. Keep her safe.”

“From what?”

Freddy marched his pen across his knuckles. The muffled noise of telephones and voices on the other side of the office wall filled the uncomfortable silence. Slowly he pulled open the middle drawer of the desk and drew out an envelope. “This came two days ago.”

He pushed the envelope across the desk.

Tyler started to reach for it, then sprang up from the chair, backing away, hands held palms out in front of him. “I can’t.”

“It’s an article about Thornwylde Castle where Melissa lives,” Freddy said as he unfolded the newsprint. “And a bishop.” From his hand, a black chess piece rolled out onto the desk. “It’s a warning, Tyler. Someone’s playing a game, and I don’t like it. I need you there.”

“It’s just an article.” Tyler ran a hand over his face, not liking the sinking feeling weighing him down. “How do you get a warning out of a chess piece?”

“Chess is a game of war. Bishops can move in any direction, but must keep on a diagonal. They’re valuable because they can make long, narrow moves.”

In spite of his best intentions, Tyler couldn’t quite bite off the questions that sprang up. “Who sent the package?”

“I’m working on that.” Freddy hid the bishop in the envelope and returned the whole to the drawer. “Melissa’s had a hard life, but in some ways, she’s very innocent. She won’t know how to defend herself.”

Who? What? Where? When? How? Instinct kicked in. It felt like old times when the merest hint of a question had sent him sniffing for answers. His limbs became jittery. He tried not to think of all the Tennessee bourbon and oblivion he’d only recently given up, but it was like trying not to think of a blue elephant. The bottle with the black label was all he could see. The fire of the dark liquid was all he could taste. The sweet blackness of nothing was all he desired. He shook his head. Stay here. Stay focused. “You already suspect someone.”

“She’s a rich woman who’ll be even richer in a month. Money makes people do unspeakable things.” Freddy frowned, his pen etching deep grooves into the pad on his desk.

Tyler licked his dry lips, tried not to taste the phantom whiskey and rested his backside against the edge of the credenza. “Why don’t you just tell her to be careful and be done with it? Why do I need to go there?”

“Because…we’re estranged. She would dismiss anything I told her.” The admission seemed painful to swallow. But then, mistakes always were. Tyler should know. He had a Texas-size one stuck in his craw. “She can’t know I sent you. She’ll just send you away.”