Rancher's Covert Christmas Read online

  Sabotage, secrets and desire...

  The McCall Adventure Ranch miniseries concludes!

  Undercover private investigator Erin Palmer is tantalizingly close to discovering who wants to destroy the McCall family. And as she creeps closer to the truth—and straight into danger—she’s burrowing deep into Zane McCall’s heart. For Zane, though, trust is everything. So when he discovers Erin isn’t who she seems, can he forgive her...before it’s too late for them both?

  “You must be Zane. Erin Palmer. Nice to meet you.”

  Zane returned a welcoming grin and gripped the woman’s hand. Her handshake was firm, her hand warm, her skin silky soft. Zane became self-conscious of how work-roughened his own palm must be, but she seemed unfazed by his calloused hand.

  “Welcome, Ms. Palmer.”

  One delicate eyebrow lifted, and she tilted her head. “Ms. Palmer? What happened to Erin? I thought after our phone conversation that we were on a first-name basis. I certainly would prefer to be less formal...Zane.”

  The way she said his name, as an addendum, her husky voice heavy with innuendo, her rosy lips twitching with amusement, caught him off guard. And shot a spike of lust through his blood.

  * * *

  We hope you enjoyed the McCall Adventure Ranch series!

  * * *

  If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

  Dear Readers,

  It’s finally Zane’s turn!

  When undercover private investigator Erin Palmer comes to the Double M to investigate the ongoing sabotage at the McCall family’s ranch, she shakes up Zane’s staid life. Zane is immediately attracted to the mysterious ranch guest, and he is willing to go to any lengths to uncover her secrets. But with the saboteur’s attacks escalating, lives hang in the balance, and before Erin and Zane can find their happily-ever-after, they must face down a villain determined to get revenge.

  Since this is a December release, I had to have the McCall family and friends celebrating Christmas, right? I love everything about Christmas, and it was a pleasure to include tidbits that showed the McCalls and crew enjoying the season, as well. So, Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! And I hope you enjoy this final installment of the McCall Adventure Ranch series.

  Happy reading,

  Beth

  RANCHER’S COVERT CHRISTMAS

  Beth Cornelison

  Beth Cornelison began working in public relations before pursuing her love of writing romance. She has won numerous honors for her work, including a nomination for the RWA RITA® Award for The Christmas Stranger. She enjoys featuring her cats (or friends’ pets) in her stories and always has another book in the pipeline! She currently lives in Louisiana with her husband, one son and three spoiled cats. Contact her via her website, bethcornelison.com.

  Books by Beth Cornelison

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  The McCall Adventure Ranch

  Rancher’s Deadly Reunion

  Rancher’s High-Stakes Rescue

  Rancher’s Covert Christmas

  Cowboy Christmas Rescue

  “Rescuing the Witness”

  Rock-a-Bye Rescue

  “Guarding Eve”

  The Mansfield Brothers

  The Return of Connor Mansfield

  Protecting Her Royal Baby

  The Mansfield Rescue

  Black Ops Rescues

  Soldier’s Pregnancy Protocol

  The Reunion Mission

  Cowboy’s Texas Rescue

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!

  Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards

  http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010002

  To my sisters, Martha and Lenna. You’re the best!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Fatal Invasion by Marie Force

  Excerpt from Witness on the Run by Susan Cliff

  Prologue

  He needed to be free of his blackmailer once and for all.

  A cut brake line should do the job.

  One last time, he’d do the man’s bidding, but then, no more.

  He made his way into the garage where the Double M owners parked the large pickup truck used to tow their cattle trailer. No overhead light. The light might draw attention, he decided, and dropped the hand that hovered near the switch. He fumbled in the dark until he found the snake-necked flashlight on a shelf on a sidewall. Shuffling slowly, his path lit only by the thin moonlight that filtered through the high window, he made his way past the family’s personal vehicles. He stopped at the Ford F-350 that would haul the trailer with the largest part of this year’s herd to market. Or not.

  His goal was to strand the family long enough that they missed the best sales days. If they didn’t make it to market, didn’t get top dollar for the cattle, the financial setback would devastate the struggling ranch. And he could finally be finished with the plot to ruin the Double M.

  Raising the hood, he stepped up on a stool to lean over the engine. He used the flashlight to locate the main brake line, then centered an empty coffee can beneath the reservoir.

  Unfolding his pocketknife, he sliced a thin line in the tube that fed fluid to the brakes. A slow leak of yellow-tinged liquid seeped from the cut. He bent the tube slightly, accelerating the flow into the can. The rapid drip, drip, drip of liquid into the aluminum can synced with the anxious drumming of his heart. He needed to hurry. His absence would be noticed soon, and someone might come looking for him.

  He considered allowing a small telltale puddle of the brake fluid to collect on the garage floor. He wanted the damage to be discovered before the trip over the mountains, just not soon enough to repair the damage before the scheduled departure. His goal was to prevent the trip to the cattle market, not to cause an accident.

  He heard a noise, a scuff of feet, and he jerked his head up. The overhead light came on, and he blinked in the bright fluorescent glow.

  “Oh, hi,” the woman at the door said.

  He swallowed hard as she approached and, squeezing the pocketknife handle, his gaze locked on hers.

  “I didn’t realize anyone was in h—” She stopped abruptly when her gaze fell to his handiwork.

  The dripping of fluid continued, like gunshots in the still garage. The knife in his hand screamed his guilt.

  “What are you doing?” Her tone was sharp, accusing. Her eyes narrowed on him, as understanding and outrage hardened her face. “It’s you! You’re the one who’s been sabotaging the ranch!”

  Bile rose in his throat, knowing he’d been found out, knowing what awaited him when she told what she’d seen tonight. His heartbeat stuttered. Unless...

  “It’s not what it looks like.” He rose and moved toward her.

  She took a stumbling step back, shaking her head. “I know what I�
�m looking at. It explains so much. I won’t let you get away with this!”

  Panic swelled in him. A survival instinct. He lunged toward her, grabbing her arm. “No! You can’t say anything!”

  “Ow! Let go. You’re hurting me!”

  He squeezed tighter, shaking her. “You can’t say anything!”

  “Let go, or I’ll scream!”

  If he let go, she’d run straight to the main house, tell the family what she’d seen. If she screamed, someone would hear her and come investigate. Neither could happen. He had to make sure she didn’t talk. He narrowed his eyes and snarled, “You can’t say—”

  She drew a deep breath and opened her mouth.

  Before she could loose the shriek, he snaked his arm around her, still clenching the small knife. He clapped his hand firmly over her mouth and nose. A muffled grunt of surprise rumbled in her throat, and she struggled to free herself from his grip. Between tightening his grip and her thrashing, the pocketknife managed to cut her, slicing through her sleeve and gashing her arm. He shifted his grip, only to accidentally jab her belly when she flinched.

  Her accelerated pulse meant that she bled faster and droplets began to make the floor slick as they struggled. Finally he dropped the knife with a clatter. With his hand now free, he wrapped his arm across her sternum and dragged her up against his chest. “Be still!”

  His fingers dug into her cheek and chin as he smothered her distressed cry.

  Damn, damn, damn! What was he supposed to do with her? How could he shut her up?

  Her fingers scrabbled feebly at the hand he had over her mouth. But having pinned her arms at her sides with his other arm, she barely reached his palm. Her efforts did little other than anger him. Why did she have to fight? Why couldn’t she have just promised her silence and left him alone?

  Despite the freezing temperatures, sweat popped out on his brow. His heart thumped hard enough that he would have sworn the whole ranch would hear it. Do something! his brain screamed. But the harder she fought, the more rattled he became. The madder, the more desperate.

  “Stop it!” He shook her and stumbled when she raised a foot to kick backward at him. His grip tightened as his frustration and fury grew. “I said stop!”

  A whimpering mewl escaped from beneath his muffling hand. Her tears dripped from her cheeks to his fingers. Blood continued to leak from her wounds, saturating her clothes and dripping on the floor. Guilt sawed his gut, adding a bitter bite to his agitation. He could feel himself losing the tenuous hold he had on his temper.

  When she tried again to break free, twisting her hips, bucking, he gave her another hard shake. “Stop it!” He gritted his teeth, growling, “Stop, stop, stop!”

  She wrenched to the left, and he jerked hard back to the right. And heard a crack. Felt the give in her neck. Her body went limp and heavy in his arms.

  He stilled. Stunned. An icy terror crawled through him. Slowly he peeled his fingers away from her mouth.

  Her head lolled to the side, and when he relaxed the arm across her chest, her legs buckled. She slid to the ground. Inert. Silent.

  His breath rasped in shallow gasps as he dropped to his knees to feel for a pulse.

  OhGodohGodohGod! What had he done?

  Her sightless eyes stared up at him, and acid pooled at the back of his throat. A numb stupor settled over him.

  She was...dead.

  He’d...murdered her.

  Dazed, he slogged through the horrible truths, his sins, which flashed like slides on a screen. A review of all his transgressions. Lies. Arson. Betrayal.

  And murder.

  He’d killed an innocent woman.

  Again.

  Chapter 1

  Two weeks earlier

  Deception did not sit well with Erin. Her life’s work, her history, her passion was truth. But her client had been adamant. No one was to know her true purpose for going to the Double M Ranch in Boyd Valley, Colorado. Or rather, she would be going, assuming she could sell her cover story to—she checked the notebook where she’d scribbled the names and phone numbers of her contacts—Zane McCall. Of the four co-owners of McCall Adventure Ranch, Zane was the chief business manager and, according to her client, the primary hurdle she had to pass.

  Erin Palmer took a deep breath, mentally reviewing her practiced script, and tapped in the phone number she’d been given. The line rang several times, and she was about to hang up, expecting the call to go to voice mail any moment, when a low male voice answered. “H’lo?”

  “Hi,” Erin said, infusing her tone with cheer, “My name is Erin Palmer. I’m looking for Zane McCall.”

  “You found him. What can I do for you, Erin?”

  An unexpected thrill raced through her hearing her name caressed by his sultry baritone voice.

  “Well, Zane—” If he could use her first name, she could use his, too. And no, she wasn’t flirting. After all, she didn’t know anything about the guy other than the melted-dark-chocolate sound of his voice. And flirting would be unprofessional. And—

  “Yes?”

  Erin wet her lips and refocused her straying thoughts. “I’m a journalist for Well Traveled magazine.” She cringed internally as the lie rolled smoothly from her tongue. “I’m interested in writing a feature piece about adventure ranches and McCall Adventures specifically.” A pregnant pause followed, and Erin’s heart tapped out a staccato beat. “Um...Zane? You there?”

  “Yeah. I...” She heard the creak of desk chair and his sigh. “Can I ask why?” His sexy baritone voice was now rife with suspicion.

  “Why what?”

  “Why McCall Adventures?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut and pinched her lips together. Answering his question would require laying out an even more elaborate lie. Her gut twisted as she dug for a believable excuse. She couldn’t say, “Because that’s the cover I’m going with to get me on-site at your ranch.”

  She decided to stay as close to the truth as possible. “I heard about the trouble you had with your soft opening, the failure of the zip line and—”

  “Wanted to exploit our accident and drag our business through the mud?” The once enchanting voice now had an edge of steel.

  Erin swallowed hard. “No! Not at all. Quite the opposite. I respect the way you’ve turned the business around and recovered from the setback. In fact, I’d like to highlight the precautions you’ve taken and the remarkable strides you’ve made toward your relaunch.” She held the phone away from her mouth and pulled a face, shocked at her fawning. Kiss up much, Erin?

  After another significant pause, Zane asked, “Well Traveled magazine, you say?”

  “That’s right.”

  Another chair squeak filtered through the line, followed by what sounded like the clacking of a computer keyboard. A moment passed before it clicked. He was looking up the magazine, verifying her credentials! Of course he would check out her story. He was smart to do it. So she had to be smarter to pull off her cover.

  “I’m not officially on staff at the magazine,” she said, quickly pulling the magazine’s website up on her own laptop. “I freelance, and I’m hoping to sell my article to Well Traveled. I’ve queried the editor-in-chief about my article idea, and she said she was interested if I could get her a draft by the end of January.”

  “You mean he? The magazine’s website says the editor-in-chief is someone named Bill Sherman.”

  Erin cursed silently as she brought up the staff page. Sure enough, the editor-in-chief was a man. He smiled at her from his bio picture in all his balding, bespectacled glory. Erin felt a prickle of perspiration pop out on her face.

  This. This was why she hadn’t wanted to lie to Zane and his business partners. She sucked at it. Along with all her other reasons for eschewing the art of deception and vigorously pursuing truth, her complete ineptitude at pretense meant she had
a slim chance at pulling it off. Her go-to was always honesty, even if it hurt.

  Yes, Officer, I know how fast I was driving. Just write me the ticket.

  Yes, DMV worker, that is how much I weigh. I love cheese.

  Yes, little sister, those pants make you look fat. Stick with the black pair.

  “Oh, sorry. Not Bill. I meant the assistant editor,” Erin countered with what she hoped was a casual-sounding laugh. She scrolled down the staff bio page to the next listing. “Claire Norris is who I queried.”

  She should call her client back and refuse this job. While the case intrigued her, the ground rules gave her too much consternation.

  “Well...” Zane said and sighed. “A positive article in a travel magazine would be good publicity.” He paused. “Though I hate to remind people of the accident. I’d rather let bygones be bygones regarding that dark chapter of our past.”

  Erin wanted to tell Zane that dark chapters were never truly history for anyone. They shaped you, changed you, marked your life forever. But such grim prophesying wasn’t likely to win her points in her appeal to Zane, so she tucked her personal experience with tragedy away and focused on her sales pitch.

  “Yes, the article would definitely be good publicity. Which leads me to my special request.”

  “A request?” His guarded tone was back.

  A shame. She much preferred the casual, flirty baritone. She tried to imagine the face that went with the seductive voice. Typically she didn’t research the subjects of her investigations before meeting them. She trusted her instincts about people, and first impressions, uncolored by personal histories, social media or biased articles, were at the heart of how she operated. She researched businesses, places and things, but people required face-to-face meetings. That intangible but all-important vibe she got by looking people in the eye.

  Which brought her back to...

  “Yes. I’d like to visit the ranch. Conduct interviews. Get a firsthand look at the business, a feel for the locale. Would it be possible for me to come out there for a week or two? I know it’s right before Christmas, but I’m on deadline.”