Tate Read online

  Praise for Susan May Warren

  Action, drama, adventure, flawed individuals and emotional and spiritual challenges are hallmarks of Warren's books.

  Christian Library Journal

  Warren has a knack for creating captivating and relatable characters that pull the reader deep into the story.

  Radiant Lit

  Susan May Warren did a fantastic job. Knox is a book that has enough action to keep you on the edge of your seat and enough romance to make you swoon. I have fall completely in love with the entire family. I can not wait to read the rest of this amazing new series!

  Emily, Goodreads reviewer

  Tate

  Montana Marshalls Series Book 2

  Susan May Warren

  Contents

  About Tate

  Let’s catch up…

  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

  What Happens Next…

  About FORD

  A Note from Susie May…

  Also by Susan May Warren

  About Tate

  Tate

  Montana Marshalls Book 2

  Bodyguard  Tate Marshall, has always been the family troublemaker…

  Maybe it’s his propensity to get entangled in other people’s problems. Now, he’s in over his head because he’s desperately in love with the woman he’s tasked to protect, the beautiful Gloria, “Glo” Jackson, daughter of US Senator and presidential hopeful Reba Jackson. A member of the country band, the Yankee Belles, Glo was targeted in a recent terrorist attack designed to deter her mother from running, and Tate will do anything to keep her safe. Even if it means letting her go.

  Country Music artist Glo Jackson isn’t afraid of trouble…

  Stubborn and brave, Glo isn’t about to hide from threats, at least the kind that won’t cost her heart. She’s already paid a terrible price for the war on terror, and she refuses to fall for a man who might die, especially because of her. Better to keep him away, even if it means sacrificing her heart.

  But when danger threatens them both, what will they sacrifice to keep each other safe?

  As the presidential campaign heats up and the threats deepen, so does the attraction between Tate and Glo. But what will it cost Tate to keep her alive? And what will Glo do to keep from losing another man she loves?

  Dive into the gripping second installment of the Montana Marshalls series!

  Let’s catch up…

  Excerpted from Knox…

  * * *

  Someone, namely him, Tate Marshall, security for the Yankee Belles country music group, had to raise his hand and point out the obvious—someone had tried to kill them—and that someone was still on the loose.

  His brother Knox and band member Kelsey sat on the white leather sofa overlooking the massive fountain of the Bellagio hotel in Las Vegas. Knox’s friend, former bull rider Rafe Noble, had pulled connections to secure a two-bedroom penthouse suite and gifted it to Knox to give to the Yankee Belles.

  Tate and Knox had nabbed a similar suite, so Tate wasn’t exactly complaining, but just being in the Bellagio, or even in Vegas proper, raised the little hairs on the back of his neck.

  The sooner they hit the road, well, the more likely he’d live through his under-the-radar return.

  “Room service show up yet?” Blonde and sassy bandmate Glo Jackson came out of a bedroom wearing a fluffy white bathrobe, her hair wet and tousled as she dried it with a towel. She hadn’t cinched the robe, and he spied a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants underneath, so maybe she was simply basking in the luxury. She slid onto a green leather high-top stool pushed under the granite countertop of the long, mirrored bar.

  “Not yet,” Tate said, the scent of her catching him, and he had to look away.

  The adrenaline of tonight’s events still spiked his system, and he’d barely stopped himself from grabbing Glo and holding on when she walked offstage.

  Just because.

  Knox got up, his hand woven into Kelsey’s. “We’re going for a walk.”

  A walk. Right. Euphemisms. But he could play along. “The fountains go off every fifteen minutes.”

  Knox grinned at him.

  Lucky dog.

  Dixie had gone out with Elijah Blue and Carter to check out the famed chocolate fountain.

  Which left—aw, shoot. He hadn’t done the math in time. The door clicked behind Knox and Kelsey.

  Glo was still drying her hair with the towel.

  Now she looked over at him, her hair in short, almost white-blonde curls around her head. “How do you know so much about the fountains?”

  Oh. He walked to the window, stared down at the night, the strip alive and always moving. The 460-foot Eiffel tower replica sparkled gold against the pane of night in front of the Paris Las Vegas. At its feet, the Chateau Nightclub was rocking, spotlights alerting the world to some headliner, and to the left, a little farther, blue light cast upon Bally’s casino. The real action was happening just northwest of Bally’s at Drai’s nightclub in the front yard of the Flamingo.

  He knew every cranny and dark alley on the Vegas strip, not to mention what happened under the bright lights.

  “Tate?”

  He hadn’t noticed Glo come up beside him. She had stuck her hands into the robe, and without her boots on, she seemed like a tiny, delicious package of curves and smarts and talent.

  For a second, he was standing offstage, watching her sing her solo. So much of her heart on the outside of her body, her voice sweet and honest and…

  And the words felt like they might be for him.

  * * *

  But you don’t know if you don’t start

  So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…

  * * *

  He knew, right to his bones, that Glo was the one he’d waited for. Wanted to start over with. And he would. As soon as they got clear of the specter and the death threats stalking them, he would quit this job.

  Create his own sappy, happy ending, hopefully.

  But until then, he had to keep his hands fisted in his pockets.

  “I used to work here,” Tate said, finally answering her question.

  “Doing what?”

  He simplified his answer. “Protecting people.” And other things.

  “Of course you were.” She glanced up at him then. Such beautiful hazel-green eyes, with tiny specks of gold. He could forget the past, the knot in his gut, even his sins, when she looked at him like that. With trust.

  As if he might actually be a hero.

  He couldn’t move, his heart nearly frozen in his chest.

  Especially when she touched his arm. “Thanks for taking down Russell tonight. You set Kelsey free.”

  “I didn’t—”

  Her hand touched his chest. “Yeah, you did.” She stepped in front of him, her back to the window panes. She put her other hand on his chest. “Thank you.”

  The heat of her hands turned his entire body to fire. He swallowed, stared down at her. “Glo—I—”

  “Kiss me already, hero.”

  Oh, uh—

  But she wasn’t hesitating. She leaned up, running her hands around his neck and pulling his head down, and then her lips were on his.

  Sweet, tasting of toothpaste, and soft against his.

  And it just took a second for him to catch up, because he had to get past the warning bells clanging in the back of his head.

  The past, rising to convict him.

  But he ignored it and swept his arm around her back,
pulled her against him and returned her kiss. Let all the emotions of the past month sweep through him, flood over him, and pour out in his ardor.

  She made a sound, something of desire deep in her bones, and it only sparked heat in his own, only made him press her against the glass, move his other arm around her.

  Glo—

  The knock at the door was a hand between them, and he came up breathing hard, his heart pounding. Glo, too, and she bit her lip as if struggling with her own emotions.

  Yay for pizza, because yes, he needed a deep breath, something to help him tuck his emotions back inside and escape the hot temptation that he knew could only cause trouble.

  Maybe he and Glo needed a walk, too, and pronto. “Get dressed,” he said over his shoulder as he headed into the foyer. “I’ll show you the strip after we have pizza.”

  “It’s about time.” She headed for her bedroom.

  Lock the door behind you, honey.

  She did, as if reading his mind. He heard the click just as he opened the door to the suite. “Room service. Finally.”

  Except it wasn’t a waiter with a white-clothed serving cart containing pizza and drinks.

  Unless the Bellagio had upgraded their room service staff to a six-foot-five Russian dressed in a black turtleneck, a suitcoat, and missing a right incisor.

  Tate’s reflexes let out a word. “Slava—”

  “Look who’s back in town.” He shoved a foot in the door before Tate could slam it.

  Then the Russian’s big hand hit the door, banged it open, and Tate had just a second to brace himself as Slava sent a fist into his gut.

  It doubled Tate over, knocking him back into the suite. He fell to the floor as Slava stepped over him. Knelt and fixed his cement mitt on his chest, pinning Tate as he tightened his fist.

  “I warned you what would happen if you ever came back to Vegas,” Slava growled.

  He had. Oh, he had.

  Please, Glo, stay in your room…

  1

  Some guys had all the luck.

  Got the girl of their dreams.

  Didn’t live with the past haunting them.

  Some guys were the heroes of the story, who saved the day and rode away on their white horses, the princess tucked behind them.

  Some guys were Tate’s big brother Knox.

  And then there were the other guys. The ones who couldn’t help but walk right into trouble, no matter how much they tried to dodge it.

  This was Tate’s only thought—well, right after how in heaven’s name had Slava Gregorivich found him?

  He didn’t have time to ask, however, because the gigantic Russian who had helped train Tate back in the day had slammed his iron fist into his gut, knocking Tate back from the open hotel room door and into the grand presidential suite of the Bellagio.

  Tate tripped on the sofa going down from Slava’s shove and ker-thumped on the floor, nearly knocking the wind out of his body.

  Slava took two giant steps and landed on top of him, one of his beefy, scarred hands square on Tate’s chest. The other hand reared back for a punch, and that’s when Tate’s mind went to Glo.

  Gloria Jackson, his client, and more importantly the woman he just might be starting to love. She was in the next room, changing clothes to join him for pizza—oops, um, not the room service guy, honey—and maybe a late-night romantic walk under the fountains and along the strip.

  He wanted to yell, Run, Glo! But that would only one, alert Slava to the collateral damage-slash-leverage should Tate not dispatch this guy successfully. And two, bring Glo out of her room to the rumble happening in the thirty-sixth-floor suite. And knowing Glo, she wouldn’t run. She’d do something heroically stupid and pick up a vase or a pillow or even use her petite body to try to take down Slava, head henchman of Yuri Malovich and protector of Yuri’s local entrepreneurial activities.

  A man who had more blood on his hands than Tate, and a death threat to make good on.

  No, Glo. Stay put.

  Tate thought of Knox next, only because his bona fide heroic big brother was already down at the fountains on his romantic walk with the woman he loved.

  By the time Slava’s fist came at him, Tate was wrangling with his thoughts about trouble and how he probably knew this was coming, if he were honest with himself.

  Knew the minute he stepped back in Vegas that Slava and the old crew would find out about it and hunt him down.

  Which was why his instincts, his reflexes kicked in and galvanized him to throw up his arm.

  Deflect the killer punch.

  And with his other hand, deliver one of his own, right to Slava’s jaw.

  It knocked the big bear back, just enough for Tate to wiggle out, spin, and find his feet.

  And this day had been going so well. He’d even felt a little like a real hero, catching a killer.

  Okay, that had mostly been Knox, too, but Tate had shown up to cuff him and bring him to justice.

  Score one for the good guys, and it confirmed for him that he could actually do the job he’d been hired for—keep the Yankee Belles, an all-girl band out of Nashville, safe. Next on the list was finding the two bombers who had nearly killed them at an NBR-X bull riding event a month ago in San Antonio, a couple of domestic terrorists who worked for an ultra-left-wing group of radicals.

  Slava found his feet and charged Tate, tackling him back onto the top of a round glass table. The table shattered and Tate’s back stung with the shards of a thousand fragments of glass. But he got his knee up and flipped Slava over his head.

  Freed himself from the jagged grip.

  Yeah, that hurt. He wanted to shout, but a glance at the closed door kept it in.

  Slava rolled off the sofa and landed on his feet, breathing hard. A smile tipped his lips. “Still the scrapper.”

  Tate backed up, a glance at his weapon, still in his shoulder holster and hanging over one of the countertop chairs. He shouldn’t have let his guard down.

  But his brain had been caught, painfully so, on Glo and that dangerous song she’d sung tonight. The one that had made him throw away caution and kiss her.

  Oh, how he’d kissed her. Like he might be a man with second chances.

  A man who could be the hero.

  Probably his first mistake—thinking that a guy like him might escape his storyline.

  Tate had been wooed by the Belles from the moment he’d met them—right after the bombing, when his brother was frantic to find the girl he’d saved. But even before then, when he watched them perform from the wings of the arena where he was working security, he knew they possessed a magic. Their voices, their sound had woven into his soul, making him feel alive, free, and new. As if he didn’t have chains of regret wrapped around his throat, digging into his chest.

  Then the bomb had gone off, terrifying everyone. Thankfully, no one innocent had died, but it left the band shaken, and of course he’d taken them on as clients.

  If he were honest, he saw a chance to be a champion. Someone’s hero.

  Glo’s hero.

  She’d hired him because she’d been afraid—not for herself but for her bandmate Kelsey, who suffered from panic attacks.

  It was a simple gig that got more complicated when he discovered Kelsey’s fears were founded—a man she’d put in prison was out and on her trail. Add to that the very real bombers who had issued death threats to Glo’s mother, Senator Reba Jackson, and the job went from babysitting to close and personal protection.

  Very close, very personal because Glo’s smile, her teasing, and even her bravery had dug under his skin, found his bones, and edged dangerously close to his heart.

  And then came tonight’s song. The hit single about loving and losing and trying again.

  * * *

  She…don’t wanna try,

  It’s too hard to fall for another guy.

  But you don’t know if you don’t start

  So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…

  * * *
<
br />   Maybe his wait was over.

  Slava kicked the table aside and advanced on him. “Yuri died in prison,” he said, giving an update. “But the Bratva remembers.”

  Tate put up his hands. “He killed Raquel. What did you want from me?”

  Slava threw his punch. Tate blocked it. Slava rebounded on the other side, and Tate blocked that, too, then slammed the edge of his hand into Slava’s throat.

  Slava stepped back, gagging, and Tate sent his foot into his chest.

  Slava flew back onto the sofa.

  Tate should grab Glo and run. He was turning toward her room when—

  “Loyalty,” Slava growled, his voice gravelly. “You pledged your life to the Bratva.”

  That spun Tate. “Are you kidding me? The things I did for Yuri out of loyalty make me sick!”

  “You went to the FBI.” Slava got up, his dark eyes flashing.

  “They came to me. And I turned them down!” A stupid, stupid decision. But that’s what loyalty got him—betrayal, a broken heart, and the death of the woman he loved.

  He couldn’t let that happen again.

  He advanced on Slava. “Yuri should have trusted me.” He grabbed Slava around the waist, hooking his foot behind his leg. The big man went down, his arm around Tate’s neck.

  Tate landed on top of him just as Slava clubbed him in the ribs. The pain woofed through him, thick and bracing, and he knew he’d probably injured a few vital organs. Especially when the second punch landed in the same area.

  Slava’s arm noosed his neck, but Tate managed to get a fist into the big man’s jaw. His hold loosed, and Tate broke free and rolled off, gritting his teeth.