Authors: Beverly Long
Secure Location
ONE SECRET WOULDN’T CHANGE THEIR PAST—BUT IT COULD SHATTER THEIR FUTURE
Detective Cruz Montoya never knew why his wife, Meg, suddenly ended their happy marriage. But now he’s not leaving her side until he catches the person ruthlessly stalking her. That means turning Meg’s new life inside out and challenging her attempts to keep his investigation—and his body—at arm’s length. Cruz never dreamed Meg’s anguished bravery would bring their unresolved past back with a vengeance. And make the desire between them burn even hotter. Then Meg raises the stakes when she reveals the real reason she walked away. Cruz wants answers and to sort out their future. But first he has to outsmart an obsessed killer who can’t wait to ensure they don’t have one….
Meg was in trouble. Big trouble.
When Cruz opened the car door and slid inside, the edges of his dark hair were damp with sweat. He flipped the air on high and turned to face Meg. “We’ve got a little bit of a situation here,” he said.
Meg’s stomach clenched. Cruz’s voice was soft, not giving anything away. But he couldn’t control the emotion in his eyes so well.
“What?”
He put his hand on her arm. “Somebody was in your apartment and they did a real job on it. I want you to stay here until they work the scene.”
In her apartment. A real job.
She let out a deep breath and sank back into the seat. Cruz dropped his arm, giving Meg the chance she needed to wrench open the door and bolt across the street. He didn’t catch her until she was at the steps.
“Meg, damn it,” he said. “It’s bad.”
“I have to know,” she said. “Please…”
Beverly Long
Secure Location
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
As a child, Beverly Long used to take a flashlight to bed so that she could hide under the covers and read. Once a teenager, more often than not, the books she chose were romance novels. Now she gets to keep the light on as long as she wants, and there’s always a romance novel on her nightstand. With both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree in business and more than twenty years of experience as a human resources director, she now enjoys the opportunity to write her own stories. She considers her books to be a great success if they compel the reader to stay up way past their bedtime.
Beverly loves to hear from readers. Visit
www.beverlylong.com
or like her at
www.facebook.com/BeverlyLong.Romance
.
Books by Beverly Long
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
1388—RUNNING FOR HER LIFE
1412—DEADLY FORCE**
1418—SECURE LOCATION**
**The Detectives
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Meg Montoya—
A year ago, she walked away from her marriage to Cruz Montoya. Now, her life is threatened. Can she accept Cruz’s help and risk that he’ll learn the secret that she’s hidden for twenty years?
Cruz Montoya—
He vows to protect his ex-wife, even though she’s made it clear that she doesn’t need it. He loves her. Always has, always will. After one reckless night of passion, Cruz realizes the stakes have suddenly gotten much higher. Can he protect the woman he loves—and their child?
Scott Slater—
He’s Meg’s boss but does he want to be more? Is that what prompts him to suggest to the police that Cruz is responsible for Meg’s troubles? Or is he simply trying to shift the investigation in another direction?
Charlotte Anderson—
She’s a super-efficient assistant who claims to support Meg, but does she really? Is it possible that she’s jealous of Meg, who seems to have everything while Charlotte has nothing?
Oscar Warren—
He’s an ex-con that Meg has gone out of her way to assist. Is he being honest when he says that he likes and respects Meg?
Mason Hawkins—
He’s got a grudge against the management of the BJM Hotel because they didn’t appreciate his talent. Is he angry enough to kill?
Tom Looney—
He’s hiding a secret life. How far will he go to make sure that his privacy is not jeopardized?
Troy Blakely—
He was a short-timer at the hotel but employed long enough for others to see his anger management problem. Is he the type to strike out against a former employer?
For Lydia: so sweet, so beautiful. You are loved!
Contents
Chapter One
Meg was halfway through her salad when her office door swung open. She looked up, saw him, swallowed too quickly and coughed as if she had a two-pack-a-day habit. When she finally stopped, her eyes were tearing.
Cruz hadn’t moved from the doorway.
His gaze lingered on her face, bold, blatant. Heat was the immediate reaction, starting in her neck and flooding her cheeks until finally it seemed as if the top of her head might explode. Finally, he shifted his gaze and she let out the breath she’d been holding.
The curtains on the big windows were open and he studied the hotel’s towering cypress trees, the manicured flower beds and the exquisite stonework. He gave no indication that he was impressed by the lushness of the San Antonio River Walk. Turning ever so slightly, he inspected the room, looking at the cherry desk, the matching credenza, the leather chairs. “Nice digs,” he said finally.
Her first corner office. She’d worked twelve-hour days for the past year to earn it. “It’s fine,” she said, ignoring the impulse to defend the space.
He nonchalantly rubbed his hand across his chin. Her mostly empty stomach jumped when she saw that he wasn’t wearing a ring. It was pure craziness that she wasn’t sure if that made her sad or happy. She didn’t want him to be alone. Had never wanted that. But then again, she couldn’t stand the thought of him being with someone else.
Which was why she tried not to think of him at all. And most days, she managed pretty well. Leaving him had almost killed her. She couldn’t risk that kind of pain again. “Look,” she said, “I don’t mean to be rude but I’m pretty busy.”
He tilted his chin down. He needed a shave. “It’s been a year, Meg, and you don’t have ten minutes?”
It had been one year and twenty-two days. She’d seen him only once during that time period, but he’d been unconscious, probably hadn’t even known she was there. “I’m sorry. You caught me a little off guard.”
He nodded and continued to boldly stare at her. Her bare arms felt chilled and she resisted the urge to pull at the edges of her V-neck blouse.
She stood up fast. So fast that her skirt caught the corner of the plastic container on her desk and flipped it. Salad spilled out onto the desk.
She ignored it. There’d be plenty of time to clean up the mess later. When he was gone.
“I like the hair,” he said, surprising her.
She wore it shorter than she had before. “Yours is longer,” she said. He’d worn a buzz cut for years and while his thick dark hair was still cut close, it was long enough for anyone to see the natural wave. Other than that, he looked the same.
She thought she recognized the faded brown cargo shorts and the T-shirt that was stretched across his broad chest. She definitely knew the well-worn sandals.
He looked at the nameplate on her desk. “Senior Vice President, huh? Congratulations.”
It was her turn to nod. He’d never been a jerk about her working. Maybe because he’d been raised by a woman who had worked way too hard. “How’s your mom?” she asked.
“Good. Still at the hotel but she’s finally cut back to part-time.”
Maria Montoya had been the hardest working, most welcoming woman that she’d ever met. Her husband had left her and their four children when Cruz, the oldest, was just twelve. She’d managed to hold her family together, to feed and clothe them working six days a week cleaning rooms at a hotel. When Meg had told her goodbye, it was the first time she’d seen disapproval in her soft brown eyes.
“And Sam?” Without thought, her eyes went to Cruz’s leg. It had been shattered by a bullet when Cruz and Sam had tried to stop a robbery-in-progress at a small coffeehouse. Sam wasn’t blood but the closest thing to it. He’d been Cruz’s partner for five years and he’d been the one at the scene, urging Cruz to hang on. Had been the one to call her, to tell her the awful news.
“Claire’s pregnant. They just found out.”
Meg leaned back against her desk, letting the wood take her weight. “That’s great,” she said, hearing the brittleness in her voice, hoping like hell that she was hiding it.
He moved farther into the room. Close enough that she could smell his scent—it was soap and citrus and evoked memories of warm summer nights and a porch swing that took up half the patio. Knowing that he’d always been too good at simply looking at her and knowing what she was thinking, she moved behind her desk and turned to the window.
The River Walk was coming to life. By early evening, the stone walkways would be filled with tourists. Music would pour out of buildings. Lovers would stroll in the moonlight, hand in hand, their faces close.
She always pulled the drapes at night. It was easier. “I’ll send them a card,” she murmured.
“You do that.” He stared at her. “But don’t you have bigger things to worry about?”
Damn. It was what she’d been afraid of since she’d seen him standing in the doorway. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about?” she hedged.
“Oh, I think you do. I got a telephone call yesterday from the San Antonio Police Department. They were interested in what I’d been doing for the last couple of weeks. Once I convinced them that I’d been working my ass off in Chicago, they were a little more forthcoming. Professional courtesy and all.”
She turned and faced him. “I didn’t send them looking for you. I didn’t even tell them about you.”
“That became abundantly clear when I talked with them. And you know what?” he asked, his voice louder now. “That’s what really got to me. Don’t you think I’d want to know that my wife was getting death threats?”
“
Ex-wife,
Cruz.”
“I read the fine print,” he replied, his tone full of sarcasm. “What the hell is going on, Meg?”
She wished she knew. “It’s nothing. A few threats, that’s all.”