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Lawfully Cherished (Billionaire Bodyguard Lawkeeper Romance)
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Lawfully Cherished
Liwen Y. Ho
Contents
Introduction
1. Natasha
2. Victor
3. Natasha
4. Victor
5. Natasha
6. Victor
7. Natasha
8. Victor
9. Natasha
10. Victor
11. Natasha
12. Victor
13. Natasha
14. Victor
15. Natasha
16. Victor
Epilogue
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Liwen Y. Ho
Lawfully Cherished
Copyright © 2019 by Liwen Y. Ho. All rights reserved.
The Lawkeepers Series © 2019 by Jenna Brandt and Lorana Hoopes
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Kristen Iten (https://kristeniten.com)
Interior Design: 2 Square 2 Be Hip (www.2square2behip.com)
Publisher: 2 Square 2 Be Hip (www.2square2behip.com)
First Edition
Created with Vellum
Introduction
There’s just something fascinating about a man wearing an emblem of authority. The way the light gleams off that shiny star on his badge makes us stare with respect. Couple that with a uniform hugging his body in just the right way, confidence, and mission to save and protect, it’s no wonder we want to know what lies underneath.
Yes, what echoes deep inside those beating hearts is inspiring. Certainly appealing. Definitely enticing. Although those ripped muscles and strong shoulders can make a woman’s heart skip a beat—or two—it takes a strong, confident person to choose to love someone who risks it all every day. Anyone willing to become part of a lawkeeper’s world might have a story of their own to tell.
The undeniable charisma lawmen possess make all of us pause and take note. It’s probably why there are so many movies and TV shows themed around the justice system. We’re enthralled by their ability to save babies, help strangers, and rescue damsels in distress. We’re captivated by their ability to protect and save, defend the innocent, risk their lives, and face danger without hesitation. Of course, we expect our heroes to stay solid when we’re in a mess. We count on them for safety, security, and peace of mind. From yesterday to today, that truth remains constant.
Their valor inspires us, their integrity comforts, and their courage melts our hearts—irresistibly. But there’s far more to them than their courageous efforts. How do they deal with the difficulties they face? Can they balance work and life? And how do they find time for love outside their life of service?
We want to invite you on a journey—come with us as we explore the complex lives of the men and women who serve and protect us every day. Join us in a fast-paced world of adventure. Walk into our tight-knit world of close friendships, extended family, and danger—as our super heroes navigate the most treacherous path of all—the road to love.
The Lawkeepers. Historical and modern-day super heroes; men and women of bravery and valor, taking love and law seriously. A multi-author series, sure to lock up your attention and take your heart into custody.
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The Lawkeepers is a multi-author series alternating between historical westerns and contemporary westerns featuring law enforcement heroes that span multiple agencies and generations. Join bestselling authors Jenna Brandt, Lorana Hoopes, Elle E. Kay, Ginny Sterling and many others as they weave captivating, sweet, and inspirational stories of romance and suspense between the lawkeepers — and the women who love them.
The Lawkeepers is a world like no other; a world where lawkeepers and heroes are honored with unforgettable stories, characters, and love.
** Note: Each book in The Lawkeepers series is a standalone book, and part of a mini-series of sorts, and you can read them in any order.
For David, my lifesaver.
Natasha
Natasha Livingston wished the letter she’d found on her doorstep that morning was a love letter. It was a simple wish for a single female on her twenty-fifth birthday who had no romantic prospects on her horizon. Like zero, nada, zilch. She hadn’t had a date in over a year, and the majority of the males in her life as a piano teacher were under five feet tall. So it was no surprise that she’d been the recipient of a prank. A prank in the form of a note with four simple words pieced together from magazine cutouts.
I am watching you.
A shiver ran down Natasha’s back as she felt the folded piece of paper in her pocket. She’d been getting chills all day, despite the warmer than usual temperatures on this early April morning. For a San Francisco native, she was sure acting like a tourist today, bundled up in a winter coat, thick scarf, and boots. It didn’t matter that she’d been indoors for the last hour. The extra layers formed a shield around her body, keeping her safe and secure from everything that might threaten her—the fog, the wind, and, of course, the boogeyman.
Her pent-up nerves made her fidgety, and she found herself crossing and uncrossing her stockinged legs over and over again. With clammy hands, she smoothed down her dusty-rose vintage skirt. She planted her feet on the ground and focused on the slow and steady notes coming from the old upright piano beside her. Tucking a strand of her long dark hair behind one ear, she nodded in approval.
Her students at Hearts and Hands, an after-school program for disadvantaged families, had made great progress this past year. She was beyond thankful to be a part of these kids’ lives and couldn’t think of a better way to spend her birthday than with her students.
“Miss Natasha, what do you think?” A young boy with scruffy blond hair falling into his blue eyes peered up at her from the worn piano bench where he sat. His right hand played the notes of a major scale, holding down the yellowed keys with his small fingers. “Did I get it right this time?”
“Yes, that’s perfect, Timmy. All your practicing is paying off.” Natasha flashed the boy a smile and gave his hair a gentle tousle. “Wait until your mom hears you play next week at our recital. You’re going to knock her socks off!”
Timmy frowned, his shoulders slouching. “But she’s only got two pairs of good socks, and she needs them both for work.”
“Oh, sweetie, it’s just a saying,” she reassured him. “It means she’s going to be so impressed by how well you play. No one will be losing any real socks.”
“Okay.” He nodded with an expression too serious for a six-year-old. With a quick jump, he hopped off the bench and landed on his worn sneakers. “Can I go now? It’s snack time!”
“Yes, of course. I’ll see you next time.” She stood and returned the young boy’s hug, her heart sinking at how thin his frame was. She made a mental note to bring in more granola bars the next time she came to teach. And a pair of socks for Timmy’s mom. Her heart went out to the young woman who worked two jobs just to make ends meet.
An older, gray-haired woman wearing a bright yellow sweater approached Natasha. She had the appearance of a jolly grandmother and treated all the children running about the room like they were her own, despite their cultural differences. When she reached Natasha in the corner of the room, she scooped her up in a great big hug. “Happy birthday, love!”
“Not so loud, please!” Natasha breathed in the woman’s sweet scent of lavender and honey, pausing an extra beat before she pulled away. Mrs. Douglass, or Mrs. D. as she preferred to be called, was the closest thing to a mother in her life. Having lost her own parents when she was five, Natasha treasured the care and affection Mrs. D. showered on her, even when it bordered on embarrassing. “I don’t want the kids to know, so please don’t make it a big deal.”
“Pshaw!” Mrs. D. waved her hand in the air. “I already told them. You don’t think they’d let their favorite teacher run off without a proper celebration, do you? This was all their idea.”
“Their idea—what?” Natasha spun around as the pitter-patter of two dozen little feet pounded across the linoleum floor. A sea of smiling faces led by none other than Timmy came running up to her. Each of the children held a colorful drawing, most of them of a stick figure with music notes drawn next to it. They lined up and presented their gifts to her until she had a whole stack of papers in her hands. Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged them one by one. “This is wonderful. Thank you so much, boys and girls! This is my best birthday ever.”
The children ran off with beaming faces to finish their snacks of goldfish crackers and water.
“Now aren’t you glad you let them bless you, dear?” Mrs. D. cooed, her cheeks a rosy red. “You are so generous with your time and heart; it’s the least we can do to show our appreciation. No
w if only we could afford to pay you—”
“No, Mrs. D.,” Natasha cut in quickly. “The smiles on the children’s faces are enough. I don’t need anything more.”
Besides peace of mind, the statement was true. God had provided more than enough for her over the years with the inheritance her parents had left her. She had been able to afford a nice little condo on the outskirts of the city. Whatever other expenses she had, she was able to cover with her income as a piano teacher at a local community college. “I’m just thankful I get to make a small difference in these kids’ lives. They’re so bright and talented. I can’t wait for them to show off what they’ve learned at the recital. I’ve been thinking, I can come in every day this week to help them practice.”
Mrs. D.’s face fell at the mention of the word recital. She wrung her hands together and lowered her voice. “Dear, there’s something you should know. How do I say this...”
“What is it?”
“It’s very unlikely there will be a recital or—” she sighed “—an after-school program at all next week.”
“What? What do you mean?” Natasha shook her head, not knowing if she heard Mrs. D. correctly. She studied her expression with narrowed eyes. This had to be a joke. A thought suddenly popped into her mind. The letter she found that morning, this news about the program—she remembered what day it was. “Oh my goodness, I can’t believe I totally forgot today’s April Fool’s Day. You’re pulling my leg, right? It all makes sense now,” she added with a relieved sigh. Any reservations she’d had about the letter disappeared.
“Unfortunately, this is the truth, Natasha.” Mrs. D.’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “I’m afraid the center is being forced to shut its doors. We just don’t have the funding to continue. We’re running on fumes as it is. Some of the staff and I pitched in to keep the lights on this week, but come Friday, the landlord’s going to expect a rent check.”
Natasha’s stomach twisted in a dozen knots. This couldn’t be happening. All these students would be turned away, left at home as latchkey kids, with no tutoring services, no arts and crafts classes, and no music lessons for who knew how many hours while their parents were away at work. Some of the children were only in kindergarten! She couldn’t let this happen. Even as she prayed for an answer, she set her shoulders back and raised her chin. “So we have four days to come up with the money. We’ll get the community involved and bring in enough cash to cover the next month’s rent at least. I’ll go to businesses and ask them to sponsor us. We can do this.”
Mrs. D. gave her a half-hearted pat on the arm. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, dear, but it’s not that simple. We also found out the building is in really bad shape; it’s not earthquake safe. And it so happens there’s a loophole in the lease that says we’re responsible for structural repairs. Even if we could cover the rent, we would never be able to come up with the million dollars we’d need to retrofit the place. I’m as torn up about this as you are. But we need to face facts. This place has done its job of caring for children for over twenty years. I’m afraid this may be God’s way of closing one door to open another.”
“But what about the kids? What about the staff? Where are you all going to go? This can’t be the end.” Natasha balked. She didn’t want to admit it, but there was a part of her that wondered what would become of herself without the kids. This center with its peeling paint and musty smell was her one bright spot in the week. Seeing the kids, especially Timmy, gave her a taste of the love she had longed for in her childhood, even more so now. “I won’t let this place close.”
“Oh, dear, unless there’s a way for you to come up with a million dollars, I’m afraid there’s no other choice.” Mrs. D. released a heavy breath and squeezed out a smile. “We’ll be having a farewell party on Friday at three. I hope you can stop by and see the kids one last time.” She gave Natasha another hug. “Sorry to burden you with bad news on your birthday.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you told me. This place is like my second home. Of course I’d want to know what’s going on here.”
“I knew you would. I do hope you still get some celebrating in today. Maybe go on a date with a nice boy?” she added in a hopeful tone. “I’m sure there are many who would love to take you out. You’re smart, kind, and beautiful.”
Natasha scoffed. If that was true, why had the only man she ever loved walked away? She shook her head. “The only boys in my life are here. I plan on getting takeout and watching a chick flick. That’s the only way I’m sure to get my happy ending.”
Mrs. D. patted her cheek. “You’ll get yours someday. I have faith,” she called out over her shoulder as she walked away.
Natasha grabbed her purse and book bag hanging off the back of her wooden chair then took a long look around the room. On second thought, she might end up having a date tonight after all, but not a romantic one.
She had a plan to save the rec center—and a visit to see her rich uncle was at the heart of it. It was time to claim the generous trust fund he’d set up for her, even if it meant adhering to the ridiculous clause he’d attached to it. The least of her problems was finding a boyfriend. What she needed now was a husband.
Victor
Victor Price could think of a dozen other things he’d like to be doing today instead of staking out a luxury hotel in downtown San Francisco. Several options crossed his mind: lying on the beach somewhere with a good drink in hand, sitting in a concert hall listening to the melodic swells of Mozart, or playing a round of pool with his old colleagues from the precinct. Even desk duty sounded better than his current mission of spying on the comings and goings of a scorned woman’s wayward husband.
His gaze flicked to his surroundings, taking in the view. The hotel was a large, impressive white building with tall columns that reached the fourth floor. Some of the people walking by wore suits, while others dressed more casually in jeans and jackets. He observed their behavior, the makes and models of the vehicles parked along the street, even the number of times a trolley passed by. He made mental notes of all these details, storing them away in his mind. One never knew when a piece of information would be important to a case.
He rubbed his hand across his scruffy jawline then took another swig of coffee from the paper cup sitting on the center console of his sedan. Like his car, he was dressed in all black, from his sweater and jeans to a pair of waterproof ankle boots. In his line of work, he had perfected the art of blending in. Fortunately, his clients hadn’t.
He cocked his head to get a clearer view of the person coming out the revolving door. Victor pulled up some pictures his client had sent him on his phone and compared them to the man passing by his car. Balding? Mid-fifties? Check. A limp in his right leg? Check. Everything matched up. But where was the woman his wife suspected he was cheating on her with?
Ten seconds later, Victor got his answer. A leggy redhead in a tight miniskirt emerged from the hotel, her eyes darting up and down the sidewalk. Victor held up his phone and caught her on camera just before she turned, heading in the opposite direction of where the man had gone. With another sigh, he quickly typed up an email, attached the photo he’d taken, and sent off the evidence to his client. A few minutes later, a message popped up on his screen confirming a new transfer into his banking account.
He tossed his phone to the side and leaned back against his seat. Considering the fact that it was April Fool’s Day, he might’ve laughed at where his career choices had taken him. But this was no joke. Victor Price, former decorated police officer, was now relegated to the dirty work of a PI. This was not how he imagined his life turning out.