Her Cowboy Avenger. Kerry Connor

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       “They’re not going to get away with this. I’m not going to let them.”

      Every word rang with determination, leaving Elena with no doubt that Matt fully intended to do what he promised.

      Them. It didn’t matter if it was only one person.

      This damn town. She should have gotten out when she’d had the chance, should have left it behind her and never looked back.

      Matt gently turned her around to face him. “Don’t let them do this to you. You’re going to make it through this.”

      It was the tenderness in his voice more than the words themselves that called to Elena, making her raise her head to meet his eyes.

      The kindness she saw there, the concern, nearly broke her. She couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had looked at her like that, when anyone had so genuinely cared about her feelings.

      Then the look in Matt’s eyes changed, became more heated, more intense. And out of nowhere, Elena felt her body respond. The emotions that had been churning within her ebbed away, replaced by an incredible sense of warmth that flowed outward to fill every part of her.

      This wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t a remembered emotion. It was real, and it was more powerful than anything she remembered…

      About the Author

      A lifelong mystery reader, KERRY CONNOR first discovered romance suspense by reading Mills & Boon Intrigue books and is thrilled to be writing for the line. Kerry lives and writes in New York.

      Her Cowboy

      Avenger

      Kerry Connor

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To The Old Book Barn in Forsyth, Illinois, where I first discovered Intrigue and so many wonderful books.

       Chapter One

      He didn’t know what he was doing here.

      Matt Alvarez eased his foot off the gas pedal as the sign announcing the town limits of Western Bluff, Texas, appeared up ahead. The truck slowly decelerated, gradually coming to a stop just before the sign.

      Welcome to Western Bluff.

      It was likely to be the only welcome he received in this town. It hadn’t been a particularly friendly place the first time he’d been here, and he wasn’t counting on that having changed much. When he’d left eight years ago, no one had bothered telling him goodbye, and he doubted there were many who’d remember him all these years later.

      No, there was only one person he could count on remembering him. The person who’d reached out and brought him back after all this time.

      From what he could see, the town up ahead looked the same. Short, square buildings were lined up along what passed for a Main Street. Around it stretched the dry desert landscape as far as the eye could see.

      It wasn’t too late to turn back. It sure as heck would make a lot more sense than driving all the way from New Mexico to this dusty West Texas town in the middle of nowhere, all because of a newspaper article he’d received in the mail.

      That article lay heavily in the front pocket of his shirt, tucked in the envelope it had arrived in. He didn’t know for sure who’d sent it; there hadn’t been a return address. But there was only one person he could imagine sending it. He just couldn’t understand why. For help, he supposed. If the story in the article was true, she could probably use it.

      That didn’t explain why she would have sent it to him of all people, nor why he had come.

      He’d been asking himself that last one from the moment he’d climbed into the truck and during every stretch of the drive.

      Now he was finally here, and he still didn’t have an answer.

      Whatever the reason, he couldn’t sit there in the middle of the highway forever. The road was clear enough—he didn’t see anyone coming up behind him in the rearview mirror—probably not a surprise given the size of the town up ahead. Few people would have a reason to pass through this out-of-the-way place.

      But here he was nonetheless.

      With a sigh, he moved his foot to the accelerator and put the truck back into motion.

      He slowly drove into town, taking in his surroundings as he passed along the main drag. Just as he’d expected, an up-close inspection revealed it really hadn’t changed at all. The buildings were all the same, with no signs of any new ones having been built and no alterations on the existing ones as far as he could tell. He still recognized the names of some of the businesses—the lawyer’s office, the bank, the Realtor. It was almost as if he’d never left, he realized as an uncomfortable feeling slid down his spine, with the town preserved exactly as it had been the last time he’d been here.

      He didn’t see many people around, which was kind of odd for two o’clock in the afternoon in any town. But then, it wasn’t as though there were that many people in this town to begin with, and he supposed most were at work. There were only a few pedestrians on the sidewalks. He couldn’t help but search out the faces of those he did see, even before he realized he was doing it, looking for anyone who appeared familiar.

      Or a particular someone, he had to acknowledge, even though the idea gave him no pleasure.

      He started to focus back on the road when he caught sight of a dark blue pickup truck up ahead pulling into a parking space on the street. It had barely come to a stop before the driver’s-side door opened. A moment later a lean, unmistakably female body emerged, shoulder-length black hair ruffling slightly in the wind.

      And there she was.

      Damned if his heart didn’t stop in his chest, just for an instant.

      He hadn’t seen her in eight years, a long enough period of time that he shouldn’t have been able to recognize her immediately. Eight years was a long time. People changed. But the moment he caught sight of her, he knew it was her.

      Elena Reyes—Elena Weston now, evidently.

      The only woman he’d ever believed himself in love with.

      A woman who—if there was any truth to the newspaper article in his pocket—was now a murderer.

      EVEN BEFORE SHE CLIMBED OUT OF the truck, Elena could feel eyes on her. She would have been surprised if it had been any other way—after all, this was her first trip into town in nearly a week—but in this instance she would have loved to be surprised. She resisted the instinctive urge to glance around and see who was watching her, unwilling to let them know she was uncomfortable with their scrutiny.

      Let them look. She didn’t have anything to be ashamed of. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

      It took some effort to remember that as she closed the door of the truck and headed to the grocery store, that oppressive feeling of being watched growing in intensity. Luckily, there’d been a parking space close to the entrance so she wouldn’t have to walk far, which was the first bit of luck she’d had in weeks. She made herself keep her head high and her shoulders straight as she walked, refusing to do anything that would make it look like she felt guilty.

      Still, when she reached the door she paused on the threshold for the briefest of moments and took a deep breath to prepare herself before stepping inside.

      As soon as she did, she wasted no time, quickly picking up a basket from inside the door and heading down the nearest aisle. It took less than ten seconds before she felt the air inside the store change, the shift as noticeable as a sudden chill wind blowing