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  Praise for the books of New York Times bestselling author

  BEVERLY BARTON

  “Beverly Barton writes with searing emotional intensity that tugs at every heartstring.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Linda Howard

  “Smart, sexy and scary as hell. Beverly Barton just keeps getting better and better.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lisa Jackson on The Fifth Victim

  “With its sultry Southern setting and well-drawn characters, this richly textured tale ranks among the best the genre has to offer.”

  —Publishers Weekly on What She Doesn’t Know

  “Hang on for another emotion-packed thriller.”

  —Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Worth Dying For

  “A riveting page-turner!”

  —The Best Reviews on On Her Guard

  Also by New York Times bestselling author

  BEVERLY BARTON

  and HQN Books

  A Time to Die

  Dangerous Deception

  Worth Dying For

  BEVERLY BARTON

  DYING for YOU

  Dear Reader,

  As you may already know, Dying for You will be the final book in my THE PROTECTORS series, which began with three prequels and a trilogy in the early-to mid-nineties. Thanks to you loving those first books, the stories about the men and women who worked for the Dundee Private Security and Investigation Agency evolved into a long-running series that spanned a variety of Harlequin/ Silhouette imprints over a period of sixteen years.

  The first books came out in the Silhouette Intimate Moments line, but eventually the stories of THE PROTECTORS were released in the Desire line, under the Silhouette Single Title imprint and most recently under the HQN imprint. One story was even part of a Christmas anthology. Harlequin re-released some of the earlier books in two trade paperback volumes, and many installments of THE PROTECTORS have been reprinted in countries around the world.

  These books began with a single idea—one of my favorite fantasies, which turned out to be a favorite of many readers. A woman in jeopardy is guarded by a man who is not only willing to kill to protect her, he is willing to die for her. And this worked in reverse, too, with a female bodyguard laying her life on the line for the man she was sworn to protect.

  After writing thirty THE PROTECTORS stories, I am ending the series with the book readers have been asking me to write for many years: Lucie Evans and Sawyer McNamara’s love story. And coming full circle in this book, I give readers a glimpse of Sam Dundee, owner of the agency, and his wife, Jeannie, and their two children twelve years later.

  I truly have mixed emotions about ending this series. My feelings are bittersweet. I know it is time to move on, to say goodbye to the Dundee Agency, to Sam Dundee and all the agents whose stories I have told. But these stories have been a huge part of my life for such a long time that writing this last book was like saying a final farewell to an old and dear friend.

  Warmest regards,

  Beverly Barton

  This book is dedicated to my readers, especially

  those who have followed The Protectors series

  over the years. Thank you. I appreciate each of you

  so very much.

  DYING for YOU

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  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 EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  PROLOGUE

  ARTURO TORRES-RIOS killed his first man when he was fourteen, his first woman when he was seventeen and his first child when he was twenty. Some would call him a murderer. He disagreed. He was an executioner. In his thirty-two years, he had acquired many useful skills that he used for profit and occasionally for pleasure. As an assassin, he had few equals. He preferred jobs where he had little or no personal contact with the victim, but on occasion and for the right price, he used his talents as a torturer or a kidnapper or a thief.

  He disliked Americans, especially the owners and employees of wealthy companies here in South America like the ones who were making deals with Ameca’s government to go into partnership with his country’s oil tycoons. Ameca was oil-rich, but the people lived in poverty, as Arturo had lived as a boy. His dislike for Americans was well-known and although he had been hired by more than one American to do their dirty work, Arturo never had direct contact with the bastards. Josue Soto, a lawyer and long-time friend, brokered all of Arturo’s deals, working as a middleman. Josue was well worth the ten percent Arturo paid him. His childhood friend could be trusted.

  They never met at Josue’s office or his home, nor did they meet at Arturo’s home. Instead, whenever a new business deal was in the works, they met at St. Salvatora, the old mission church in Puerto Colima, the fishing village where they had both been born.

  “If you accept this assignment, you will be paid a quarter of a million dollars, then another quarter million after Phase One and the final million and a half at Phase Two when the assignment is completed,” Josue told him.

  “Two million dollars makes this a tempting offer.”

  “You don’t even have to get your hands dirty. All you have to do is oversee the job and make sure nothing goes wrong. I am certain you can put together the right team for an assignment such as this.”

  “Is the person hiring me for this job an American or someone from Ameca?” Arturo asked.

  Josue sighed heavily. “Why do you ask when you know it is better for you and for our client if that information is not shared, to protect both your identity and the client’s?”

  Arturo smiled. Josue was right. It did not matter to him who wanted to employ him. His skills were for hire on the open market. “Forget I asked.”

  “You have less than a month to prepare. Everything must be in place by the fifteenth of September. It will be up to you to choose the exact time and place, but the opportunity to act is brief, a few days at most.”

  “That is not a problem.” He eyed the thin folder in Josue’s hand. “This contains all the information and instructions?”

  Josue nodded.

  Arturo took the folder, opened it, scanned the three pages several times, and then returned the folder to his friend. Arturo had taught himself to memorize data quickly, to keep information in his head. It was safer for him that way. No paper trail.

  “Then I can make contact today and say that we have accepted the assignment?”

  “Yes. Tell them to wire the money to our account immediately. Once that is done, I will formulate a foolproof plan and assemble the perfect team.”

  “No one is to be killed,” Josue reminded him. “Not until the order is given.”

  Arturo and Josue rose from the wooden bench and shook hands. Josue left first, exiting through the front doors. Arturo slipped out the back door, put on his sunglasses and, after checking the debris-strewn alley, walked briskly to his parked car two blocks away.

  CHAPTER ONE

  DAISY HOLBROOK PRIDED herself on doing her job as Dundee’s office manager with expertis
e and finesse. She kept up-to-date on dozens of cases and, at present, twenty full-time agents, numerous contract agents and six members of the office staff. The Dundee Private Security and Investigation Agency handled assignments within the United States and internationally and was known worldwide as one of the premiere agencies of its kind. Sam Dundee, the owner, visited their sixth-floor office complex in downtown Atlanta annually and was only a phone call away in emergencies. But CEO Sawyer McNamara oversaw the agency, hired and fired personnel, assigned cases and ruled Dundee’s with an iron fist. His word was law. Many agents became friends and fraternized while between jobs. Not Sawyer. He maintained a professional distance between himself and the employees. Even if all the agents didn’t like Sawyer, to a person, they respected him. The office staff, except for Daisy, trembled in fear whenever the big boss came anywhere near them and all the female staffers had secret crushes on him. Daisy understood why. Sawyer was not only intimidating, thus causing apprehension, but he also dressed like a GQ model, was tall, dark and handsome, and oozed sex appeal. Daisy had to admit that when she’d come to work here, straight out of college, and met him for the first time, she’d had a bit of crush on him herself.

  She’d gotten over it.

  As she turned on lights, checked to make sure the cleaning crew had left each private office in perfect condition, and put on two pots of coffee in the staff lounge, Daisy briefly recalled her first day on the job eight years ago. She had been nervous and unsure of herself, but determined to do her best. Within two years, the office manager had retired, leaving the position open. Daisy had been surprised, to say the least, when the then new CEO, Sawyer McNamara, had promoted her to the coveted position.

  “You’re intelligent, efficient and levelheaded,” Sawyer had told her. “And you don’t tremble in your high heels or swoon like a love-struck teenager when I speak to you.”

  After eight years in Dundee’s employ, Daisy had gained the nickname Ms. Efficiency, of which she was extremely proud. She considered most of the agents to be her friends, some even close friends, and one in particular had stolen her heart several years ago. Everyone at Dundee’s, except the man himself, knew that Daisy was in love with the rugged former SAS officer, Geoff Monday. Not only was he a womanizer, a confirmed bachelor and fifteen years her senior, but Geoff also treated her like a kid sister. Not once had he ever looked at her as if she were anything other than a buddy. Unrequited love was a bitch!

  Marching down the hall toward her workstation in the center of the main office, Daisy checked her wristwatch. 8:10 a.m. She arrived promptly at eight each morning, an hour before the other members of the staff. As a general rule, unless there was some type of emergency, the boss arrived anywhere between nine and ten. The agents who were not on assignment came and went from headquarters at various times. Just as she approached her desk, the distinct sound of the elevator stopping and the doors opening alerted her that someone was coming into work early. It would be either the boss himself or one of the agents. The office staffers usually rushed in at the last minute.

  Daisy looked down the short hallway and watched while Lucie Evans exploded from the elevator, her long, curly red hair bouncing on her shoulders as she stomped her sandal-clad size-nines up the carpeted corridor.

  Uh-oh. Daisy knew that look. Spiting mad, fire shooting from her dark eyes, cheeks flushed and determination in her stride. Lucy was pissed. Royally pissed, and there was only one person who could make her that angry.

  “Is he in yet?” Lucie demanded when she neared Daisy’s workstation.

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Call him and tell him to get down here as fast as his half-million-dollar Mercedes will go.”

  “Is there some type of emergency?” Daisy knew better than to disturb Sawyer at home without a very good reason.

  “Oh, yes, there’s an emergency.” Lucie snarled. “I’m the emergency. Tell that son of a bitch that unless he wants all those pretty paintings and sculptures in his office destroyed, he’d better be here in twenty minutes.”

  “Lucie, you aren’t threatening to—”

  “Damn right, I am.” Her lips curved into a wicked smile, one that told Daisy she meant business.

  “If you start tearing up Mr. McNamara’s office, I’ll have to call security.”

  “Call Sawyer instead,” Lucie said, as she moved past the workstation and headed farther down the hall. “I promise not to touch a thing for the next twenty minutes.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To get a cup of coffee first, and then I’ll be waiting in the big man’s office.”

  Daisy followed Lucie into the staff lounge. “Whatever it is, do you want to talk about it? Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll—”

  Lucie turned on her. “You’ll what? Try to calm me down? Play interference between me and Sawyer? Sorry, sweetie, not this time. It’s gone beyond anything anyone can say or do.”

  “All right. I’ll call Mr. McNamara and let him know you’re here and that you’re upset.”

  “Tell him he’s got twenty minutes.”

  Daisy paused in the doorway. “You promise that you won’t do anything destructive for the next twenty minutes.”

  Using her index finger, Lucie marked her chest with an X and said, “Cross my heart.”

  As she made her way back to her desk, Daisy heaved a worried sigh. This was far from the first time Lucie Evans had been upset with Sawyer. Except for one incident when she had actually broken Sawyer’s Waterford crystal paperweight, she had never been destructive. Whatever had happened to push her to the edge had to be worse than anything that had occurred in the past. In the eight years she had worked at Dundee’s, she had watched the war between Lucie and Sawyer with as much interest and morbid fascination as the rest of the staff and all the agents. No one understood why, although the animosity between the two could easily set off World War III, Sawyer hadn’t fired Lucie or why Lucie hadn’t quit. Daisy didn’t know for sure, of course, but she suspected that since both of them were as stubborn as mules, neither would back down, or give an inch. Sawyer was waiting for Lucie to resign; and Lucie was waiting for Sawyer to fire her. Stalemate.

  When she returned to her desk, Daisy called Sawyer’s private home number. He answered on the third ring.

  “Good morning, Daisy. Is there a problem?”

  “Yes, sir, I’m afraid there is.” She dreaded telling him. Usually just the mention of Lucie’s name could alter his mood from positive to negative.

  “Well?” he asked impatiently.

  “Lucie Evans is here.” Daisy waited for his reaction.

  “Ms. Evans is supposed to be on assignment. Did she give you any explanation for why she walked out on a client?”

  “No, sir, she didn’t mention the client, but she demanded that I contact you and ask you—” Daisy cleared her throat “—actually tell you that if you’re not here at headquarters in twenty minutes, she is going to wreck your office.”

  “Call security and have her—No, wait. Tell her I’ll be there. And if she’s touched even so much as a paper clip in my office, I’ll have her butt hauled off to jail.”

  “Yes, sir, I’ll inform Ms. Evans right away.”

  Daisy found Lucie in Sawyer’s office, sitting behind his desk in his plush leather chair. When Daisy walked in, Lucie swiveled around and smiled at her.

  “Well?”

  “Mr. McNamara will be here in twenty minutes.”

  Lucie lifted the glass paperweight from Sawyer’s desk, a replacement for the one she had broken a couple of years ago. Daisy hurried into the room, reached out, took the paperweight from Lucie’s hand and set it back on the desk.

  “Promise me that you’ll be a good girl.” Daisy looked right at Lucie.

  Lucie glanced at her wristwatch, tapped the face and said, “I’ll be as good as gold for the next twenty minutes.”

  SAWYER POURED the contents of his cup into the sink, rinsed out the sink and placed the cup in the d
ishwasher. His coffeemaker would shut off automatically, so he left the half-full pot on the warmer. Mrs. Terrance, his housekeeper, would arrive at ten and tidy the kitchen.

  He went to his bedroom, put on his jacket, picked up his briefcase and headed straight for the garage. Usually, it took him thirty minutes to drive from his home to the downtown office building that housed Dundee’s. This morning, he had to find a way to cut that time by ten minutes, if possible. He had known Lucie Evans long enough to know that the lady didn’t bluff. And he also knew Daisy Holbrook well enough to know she would not call security until the last possible moment, which meant that Lucie could wreck his office before the guards arrived to stop her.

  After getting into his Mercedes-Benz SLR McLaren, one of his most prized possessions, Sawyer put his Bluetooth earpiece into place, backed out of the driveway and onto the road. Once in the middle of bumper-to-bumper traffic, he placed a call, which after six rings went to voice mail.

  “You’ve reached Lucie Evans. I’m not available to take your call. Please leave your number and I’ll get back to you as soon a possible.”

  “Damn!” Sawyer muttered under his breath.

  She wasn’t going to answer her cell phone. She wanted to make him squirm.

  He called her again. Once again, she didn’t answer.

  After her recorded message ended, he said, “Touch one thing in my office and I’ll contact the police.”

  Lucie was a loose cannon. If he’d been smart, he would have fired her when he took over the CEO reins from Ellen Denby six years ago. Actually he had thought she would resign once she realized she’d be taking orders from him. But in typical Lucie fashion, she had dug in her heels and stayed on at Dundee’s. For six years, she had done everything humanly possible to make him fire her; and he had done everything within his power as CEO to make her quit.