Hostage to Thunder Horse. Elle James

      

      “You’re staying where I can keep an eye on you.”

      Maddox scooped her in his arms and deposited her in the middle of the mattress.

      “Someone was prowling around outside the house. Care to enlighten me as to who it might be? No more lies. I want the truth.”

      She stared up at him, her eyes an icy blue, glistening with unshed tears. “I am telling you the truth. I do not know who is after me.”

      “You aren’t telling me everything.”

      “I’ve told you what I can.”

      He turned away, afraid that if he continued to stare at her, he’d do something stupid—like take her in his arms and make love to her.

      “I suspect you’re a whole lot of trouble and we’ve only just scratched the surface.” Tomorrow he had to convince her to trust him…if being next to her tonight didn’t drive him crazy with need.

      Hostage to Thunder Horse

      Elle James

      MILLS & BOON

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      This book is dedicated to my new grandson, whose arrival into this world was the best incentive to get this book written. Happy Birthday, Cade!

      ABOUT THE AUTHOR

      Golden Heart winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, Elle James started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She managed a full-time job, raised three wonderful children and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry 350-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. She loves building exciting stories about heroes, heroines, romance and passion. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.

      CAST OF CHARACTERS

      Maddox Thunder Horse—Lakota Indian and North Dakota rancher, whose love of the wild horses of the Badlands leads to a winter rescue that turns into a long-term commitment to save a desperate woman.

      Katya Ivanov—A princess framed for terrorism, on the run from law enforcement officials and a paid assassin.

      Sheriff William Yost—The sheriff the Thunder Horse men despise for the slipshod investigation of their father’s death.

      Richard Fulton—A shadowy criminal who has eluded authorities for a long time.

      Tuck Thunder Horse—Maddox’s younger brother, the Federal Park Ranger in charge of protecting the North Dakota Badlands and its herds of wild horses.

      Dante Thunder Horse—Maddox’s brother, and helicopter pilot for the North Dakota branch of U.S. Customs and Border Protection.

      Pierce Thunder Horse—Maddox’s older brother, the one who left North Dakota to pursue a career in the FBI.

      Dmitri Ivanov—Katya’s brother, missing in Africa, next in line for the throne of Trejikistan.

      Vladimir Ivanov—Katya’s cousin, who covets the throne of Trejikistan and resents its move toward democracy.

      Amelia Thunder Horse—Mother to the Thunder Horse men, who lost her husband to a freak riding accident.

      Contents

      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

      Chapter One

      He’d gained ground in the last hour, bearing down on her, the relentless adversary wearing at her reserves of energy. The cold seeped through her thick gloves and boots, down to her bones.

      Alexi Katya Ivanov revved the snowmobile’s engine, thankful that the stolen machine had a full tank of fuel. Regret burned a hole in her gut. Somehow she’d find the owners and repay them for the use of their snowmobile. She’d never in her life stolen anything. In this case, necessity had forced her hand. Steal or die.

      She’d ditched her car several hours after crossing the border into North Dakota, and she was tired of wincing every time a law enforcement vehicle passed by. But she didn’t know where to go. She’d only lived in Minneapolis since she’d been in the States. Instinct told her to get as far away from the scene of the crime as she could get.

      Throughout the night, she’d pushed farther and faster, praying that she wouldn’t be pulled over for speeding. Not until Fargo did she realize that the headlights following her hadn’t wavered since she’d left Minneapolis. Butterflies wreaked havoc in her belly—whether they were paranoia or intuition, she didn’t care. Her gut told her that whoever had framed her as a terrorist had also set a tracking device on the body of her car. How else had he found her and kept up with her through the maze of streets in the big cities?

      She’d stopped once and taken precious time to search the exterior, but the snow-covered ground kept her from a thorough investigation of the undercarriage. Thus her need to ditch the car and find alternate means of transportation. Out in the middle of nowhere North Dakota, rental cars were scarce, if not impossible to find, not to mention they required a credit card to secure. She hadn’t used a credit card since…Katya twisted the handle, gunning the engine. She refused to shed another tear. The bite of the icy wind was not nearly as painful as the ache in her heart. Her beloved father was dead. An accident, according to the news, but she’d gotten the truth from one of his trusted advisors back in Trejikistan. He’d been gunned down by an assassin while driving to their estate in the country.

      Immediately after hearing the news of her father’s death, Katya had been attacked in front of her apartment building. If not for the security guard she’d befriended, Katya would be dead. The same guard had hidden her from the attacker and let her know that the police had been to her apartment, claiming she’d been identified as a suspected terrorist. They’d found weapons and bomb-making materials there. Things that hadn’t been there when she’d left to go to church earlier that day, hoping to find some solace over her father’s death. The guard hadn’t believed her capable of terrorism. Thank God.

      On the run since then, she’d avoided