The Legend of Smuggler's Cave
One man will go to any lengths when a vulnerable woman and her little boy are threatenedCounty prosecutor Dalton Hale is convinced widowed Briar Blackwood has information that can help him take down a local crime organization. Getting it is no easy task, though, considering the distrust in the Bitterwood police officer's beautiful gray eyes. But since he started his investigation, Briar and her tiny son have been attacked twice. The only solution is to move her and Logan into his home, where he can ensure their safety. However, neither Dalton nor Briar is prepared for the deepening feelings between them. Playing house is one thing, but when Briar's son is kidnapped Dalton recognizes he wants the real deal–and will put his own life on the line to get it.
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âYouâd rather go to a safe house?â
Her mind rebelled at the notion of taking her son to some strange place, surrounded by people they didnât know. But wasnât that what sheâd done anyway? Dalton Hale was little more than a stranger to them. And his house was like no place she or Logan had ever lived before.
But she felt safe there, she realized. She had no particular reason to feel that way, but she did, regardless.
âNo,â she said, not intending to say so aloud but not really regretting it when she heard the word slip over her tongue.
She felt his gaze on her again, a caress of scrutiny that sent a little shiver of awareness darting down her spine. He released a soft breath, as if heâd been holding it.
âI donât regret asking you to stay with me.â
âI donât regret staying.â She slanted a quick look toward him. âWeâll have to take pains to keep it that way, wonât we?â
Alabama native PAULA GRAVES wrote her first book, a mystery starring herself and her neighborhood friends, at the age of six. A voracious reader, Paula loves books that pair tantalizing mystery with compelling romance. When sheâs not reading or writing, she works as a creative director for a Birmingham advertising agency and spends time with her family and friends. She is a member of Southern Magic Romance Writers, Heart of Dixie Romance Writers and Romance Writers of America.
Paula invites readers to visit her website, www.paulagraves.com.
For my niece Melissa, who has added unexpected joy to my life in some of the most surprising ways.
I love you, Missy.
Now go do your homework.
Contents
Chapter One
The front door was unlocked. Jenny never left it unlocked.
Hair rising on her neck and arms, Briar Blackwood took a careful step backward on the porch and drew her Glock 27. Not her weapon of choice; her Mossberg 835 shotgun was locked in the cabinet inside the cabin. But the Glock would do.
She stayed still for a breathless moment, listening for movement within the cabin. Was she overreacting? Maybe her aunt had fallen asleep on the sofa without locking up.
No. The break-in a month earlier had rattled Aunt Jennyâs nerves. She hadnât been comfortable staying at Briarâs place with Logan alone at night since. She always locked all the doors and windows the second Briar left and wouldnât even answer the door unless she knew the voice on the other side.
So why was the door unlocked now?
Everyone who mattered to Briar was behind that unlocked door. And she could stand here holding her breath, or she could go in there to see what was what.
But not through the front door.
Briar edged to the corner of the porch, making herself a harder target if someone inside started shooting. Tightening her grip on the Glock, she pulled her cell phone from her jacket pocket and dialed the cabin landline. She heard the phone ringing through the cabin walls.
No answer.
Now she knew for sure something was wrong. Aunt Jenny was a light sleeper. She never slept through a ringing phone.
Shoving her cell phone back in her pocket, Briar slid between the wood slabs of the porch railing and dropped three feet to the ground below. Stopping below the big kitchen window, she peered up at the jars of fruits and vegetables stacked in three tight rows in front of the window. The colorful jars took the place of curtains, both as a dash of brightness in the small kitchen and as a privacy screen, keeping out the unwanted gazes of strangers who might be lurking outside the mountain cabin.
They were still intact. Last time someone had broken in, theyâd shattered the jars and left a huge mess in her kitchen.
What could they want? She was poor as a church mouse. Her new job as a Bitterwood police officer would do little more than pay the bills and allow her to put aside a little bit for her son Loganâs college fund.
Could it be her job that had drawn the intruders to her door?
She edged her way around to the root cellar door and eased it open, wincing at the low creaks of the hinges. Six concrete steps took her down into the tightly packed cellar, where shelves full of canned goods filled one side of the room, and bins of root vegetables filled the other. She used the flashlight app on her cell phone to illuminate the narrow path between shelves and bins, but she still managed to stumble into the shelves near the stairs. With a muttered curse, she barely caught a jar of tomatoes as it started to topple off the shelf above.
Setting it right, she shined the cell-phone light up the stairs. The door to the cabin was closed. She crept up the stairs and tried the doorknob. Locked, as expected. She eased her keys from her pocket and inserted the right one. The doorknob turned smoothly, and she carefully slipped into the hallway, shutting off the phone light.
