The Man behind the Badge Read online

  “You’re right. We can’t trust your people or mine,” Jason finally said.

  Letter to Reader

  Title Page

  Letter to Reader

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Copyright

  “A passionate and intelligent premiere sure to secure Ms. Taylor’s place in contemporary romance. Bravo!”

  —Helen R. Myers, bestselling author of

  MORE THAN YOU KNOW

  “You’re right. We can’t trust your people or mine,” Jason finally said.

  “Then we’ll trust each other,” Lane replied, meeting his gaze.

  What was he going to do now? He couldn’t solve this case fifty miles from nowhere, holed up in a twelve-by-twelve cabin with an alluring partner. Every man had his limits, and he feared he was fast approaching his.

  Even now, he was on fire. Mesmerized.

  But he couldn’t leave Lane alone. Not while her life was in danger from a pack of truck hijackers that had suddenly turned as aggressive as a wolverine with its hackles up. The hunters had become the hunted.

  Still, could he live with the consequences of keeping her with him?

  Dear Reader,

  We’ve got a special lineup of books for you this month, starting with two from favorite authors Sharon Sala and Laurey Bright. Sharon’s Royal’s Child finishes up her trilogy, THE JUSTICE WAY. about the three Justice brothers. This is a wonderful, suspenseful, romantic finale, and you won’t want to miss it. The Mother of His Child, Laurey’s newest, bears our CONVENIENTLY WED flash. There are layers of secrets and emotion in this one, so get ready to lose yourself in these compelling pages

  And then .MARCH MADNESS is back! Once again, we’re presenting four fabulous new authors for your reading pleasure. Rachel Lee, Justine Davis and many more of your favorite writers first appeared as MARCH MADNESS authors, and I think the four new writers this month are destined to become favorites, too. Fiona Brand is a New Zealand sensation, and Cullen’s Bride combines suspense with a marriage-of-convenience plot that had me turning pages at a frantic pace. In A True-Blue Texas Twosome, Kim McKade brings an extra dollop of emotion to a reunion story to stay in your heart—and that Western setting doesn’t hurt! The Man Behind the Badge is the hero of Vickie Taylor’s debut novel, which gives new meaning to the phrase “fast-paced”. These two are on the run and heading straight for love. Finally, check out Dangerous Curves, by Kristina Wright, about a cop who finds himself breaking all the rules for one very special woman. Could he be guilty of love in the first degree?

  Enjoy them all! And then come back next month, when the romantic excitement will continue right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

  Yours,

  Leshe Wainger

  Executive Senior Editor

  * * *

  Please address questions and book requests to

  Silhouette Reader Service

  U.S : 3010 Walden Ave., P.O Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

  Canadian. P.O Box 609, Fort Ene, Ont L2A 5X3

  * * *

  THE MAN BEHIND THE BADGE

  VICKIE TAYLOR

  Dear Reader,

  I love stories that reflect both the frailty and the strength of the human spirit. It’s no wonder, then, that when I sat down to write The Man Behind the Badge, the characters that took shape on paper brought not only their honor and courage to the story, but their doubts, fears and regrets, as well. The roads they traveled were not always gentle.

  I have to admit, I had great fun torturing Special Agent Jason Stateler and Detective Sergeant Lane McCullough. But then, I knew all along that in the end their love for each other would provide all the fortitude they needed to persevere through their struggles. It just took a while for them to figure it out!

  Although our lives may not be as adventurous as Lane’s and Jason’s, we all travel difficult roads from time to time. I hope you’ll find, as I did, that seeing them overcome their trials and find lasting love makes it easier to believe the rest of us can, too.

  The Man Behind the Badge is my first novel. I’m overwhelmed at the response it has gotten from the writing community, winning several writers’ contests and being named as a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s Golden Heart competition. Now I can’t wait to see what kind of response it will get from the community that really matters—the readers’ community! I hope you’ll enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Whatever your reaction, I’d love to hear from you. Please send your comments to:

  Vickie Taylor

  P.O. Box 633

  Aubrey, TX 76227

  Sincerely,

  To Freddie and Sarah, for all the things you do, but

  especially for not letting the horses go hungry when

  I’m so engrossed in writing that I don’t notice it’s past

  feeding time.

  To Deb and Sheri, two of the nicest people I know, and

  who always believed. (“Well, of course you sold

  your brook!”)

  And to Bear, who I sometimes think is smarter than I am.

  Chapter 1

  “She was snooping. Just waste her and get back to work.”

  A chill crawled down Jason Stateler’s spine as he stepped through the doorway. Whether it was from the cold-blooded death sentence he’d overheard, or because he’d stepped from the hot, steamy, Georgia night into the cavernous cool of the warehouse, he wasn’t sure.

  Concealed in the shadows of the upper level, Jason gazed down at the warehouse below him. The large concrete-and-steel structure was almost empty, for now. The truck just pulling in held tonight’s load of stolen electronics. He used the rumble of its diesel engine to mute the sound as he closed the door behind him.

  His eyes swept along the concrete floor to the ring of fluorescent light near the loading dock, and he scowled.

  Damn. He didn’t need any complications tonight. This purchase would establish him as a serious buyer. And hopefully earn him a meet with the head of the truck-hijacking ring acquiring the goods.

  He should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  Even as he’d handed the briefcase stuffed with cash a few minutes ago to Alejandro, the middleman, he’d felt again the premonition of doom that had plagued him all week. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Someone stepping on his grave, his grandmother used to say about that feeling. He only hoped the pending catastrophe would hold off long enough for him to finish this job.

  The truck at the dock shut off its engine, plunging the warehouse into silence with a last acrid gasp of exhaust.

  His gaze was drawn again to the floor below him. In the center of a circle of harsh light sat a woman, hunched miserably in a metal chair. Grumman, Alejandro’s beer-bellied lackey, circled her like a buzzard. His shuffling footsteps echoed in the rafters like flapping wings.

  Morales, the slick that ran the day-to-day business., leaned against an open packing crate a few feet away. Swathed in indifference, the slim Hispanic smoothed his pleated pants, casually crossed his loafers and rolled a toothpick between his teeth. Only the tick in his eye, a spasmodic blink that tugged his cheek up and his brow down, gave him away. He was excited.

  The thugs had caught themselves a fish and were enjoying watching it wriggle on the end of their line.

  “Don’t be in such an all-fired hurry, Morales.” Grumman trailed a black-nailed finger down the nape of the woman’s neck. “We got all night And missy here and me have some business of our own to get down to, after she tells us what she’s been up to.” He laughed when she shrugged off his touch.

  Bile burned the back of Jason’s throat. God, he hated scum that preyed on whatever helpless creature fell into their path.

  The woman’s shoulders curled inward around her bowed head. Tangled waves of dark hair, black or nearly so, tumbled en masse over her face.

  She lifted her head long enough to capture a few of the more outrageous strands behind one ear, baring a cheek marked by the back of someone’s hand. Jason couldn’t tell from that distance if her mouth was naturally full and pouty, or swollen from another blow. The severe lighting washed out her complexion—that and her fright making her look bloodless, almost porcelain.

  The woman seemed somehow familiar to him, but he couldn’t be sure where he’d seen her before. Was she the presence he’d sensed all week? The eyes on him?

  Grumman’s grubby hand tickled the woman’s jawbone then clenched her chin, yanking her head toward his. “Now, darlin’, you’re gonna tell us one more time what you was doin’ nosing around out there.”

  To her credit the woman didn’t cringe, but Jason swore he could see the frantic pounding of her heart. The faded blue work shirt she wore unbuttoned over a thin white tank top left little to the imagination. Especially when her chest heaved with every panicked breath. Grumman was practically drooling in her lap.

  Like a mouse looking for a crack in the floorboards, her eyes darted around the room. “I—I told you. I was looking for someone.” Her voice squeaked and she licked her lips. Her eyes flicked up to Jason, widened, then bounced away
. “My boyfiriend,” she added.

  Morales sneered and threw up his hands. “Dios. We do not have time for this. Lose her so we can get back to work.”

  Twisting his fingers in the woman’s hair, Grumman jerked her up and dragged her across the cement floor.

  “Wait! M-my boyfriend—”

  “Must’ a stood you up,” Grumman cut her off, ’ “cause there ain’t nobody here but us. Too bad, too. I expect he’s gonna be real hard put to find another looker like you.”

  “No! He said to meet him here....”

  “Quit stalling and get rid of her,” Morales ordered.

  Jason’s breath caught in his chest. She was in real trouble. Grumman was mostly bluster, all brawn and no brain, but Morales was as smart as he was vicious. He fancied himself the AL Capone of Atlanta and wouldn’t hesitate to kill to protect his operation.

  Jason swallowed a curse, unclenched his cramped fists and forced his lungs to function. He was no Elliott Ness, not by a long shot. Helping this woman could cost Jason months of work, if not his life. But that didn’t matter now; he had no choice.

  Twisting the knob behind him, he pulled the door open a few inches. With a deep breath he slammed it shut and clomped down the stairs as if he had just arrived

  Whoever she was, he hoped she was quick on her feet.

  Up close she was taller than she had looked from above. Two, maybe three inches short of his six foot one. Her cutoff shorts exposed mile-long thighs and smooth calves, slim but toned. Definitely not mousy.

  Pulling Grumman’s hand from her hair, Jason backed the man ten feet off with a lethal glare, then turned his attention to the woman. Forcing himself to sound gentle, he crooned, “Baby, you’re early.”

  It wasn’t until then, when she tipped her head up, that he got his first good look at her. Full, soft lashes blinked over startled green eyes. Unguarded. Vulnerable.

  And the mouth was definitely naturally pouty.

  He must be mistaken about knowing her. If he’d seen her before, he would remember it. One look at her sucked the breath right out of him.

  He shook himself mentally. Get a grip. Pulling her to him, he willed her to relax, to go along, and she didn’t resist.

  His arms circled her waist and tightened, molding her against his chest and hips. At her height, she fit perfectly against him. Her cheek cradled naturally in the crook of his neck. She set her hands lightly, uncertainly, on his waist, not exactly holding him, but not pushing him away, either.

  Smells he thought he had forgotten assaulted him: musky perfume, tangy shampoo and an underlying sweetness he knew he should be able to name but couldn’t.

  His senses reeled, tilting his world off balance. It had been so long since he’d held a woman. Too long. He’d forgotten how right it felt. How comfortable. How he could lean in and make words next to her ear, knowing they would be felt as much as heard.

  Honeysuckle, he thought, the sweet scent was honeysuckle.

  Just loud enough for the two henchmen to hear, he murmured, “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t expect you here.” Then in a whisper meant only for her, “Call me Jason and play along.” Telling himself he needed to make sure Grumman and Morales were convinced, he teased her with a gentle kiss.

  She stiffened, her mouth rigid and unforgiving. Slowly he ran his hands up her arms, over her shoulders and down her back. Soothing. Taming.

  Holding his mouth so close to hers that he felt his own breath reflected from her lips, he reassured her. “It’s all right. No one’s going to hurt you.” Hoping she would realize he meant himself, he took her mouth again, probing, taunting, beseeching her cooperation.

  When she still refused to yield to his gentle urgings, he groaned—out of frustration or need, he didn’t know. His pulse leaped, adrenaline and something else driving him on.

  Somehow he had to get past her fear. If she didn’t respond to him like a lover, the game would be up. The two thugs behind him would kill them both.

  His palm glided down her back to the rounded flesh at the end of his reach. Growling into the kiss, he pinched her there. Hard.

  Her startled gasp gave him all the access he needed. His tongue dove into her opened mouth.

  He tightened his grip on her, anticipating her struggle. To his surprise, it never came. After only the slightest hesitation, she responded fervently. Apparently she had gotten his message and decided to hold up her end of the bargain.

  Her tongue sparred with his. Her hands found their way under his jacket, and her fingernails grazed his back through his black, knit shirt. He slanted his mouth, searching for deeper contact, and she moved in perfect counterpoint.

  The longer this went on, the more trouble his mind had convincing his body that this was just an act. It wanted more. His jeans chafed, his skin suddenly sensitive

  The sparring escalated to a duel. A contest to be won at all costs. His pulse clashed with hers, both runaway.

  He didn’t even know this woman; she shouldn’t be able to do this to him. But even as his brain screamed to get her out of there and get the hell away from her. his hunger told him to stay. Just a little longer. Just a little more.

  Behind him, Grumman cleared his throat in an exaggerated gag, obviously enjoying the show. “Now, now, Mr. Bigshot Buyer, you ain’t layin’ claim to our little foundling, are you?”

  Jason turned on him like a bull on a matador, itching to charge. “I ought to kill you for touching her, Grumman.”

  Grumman scratched his paw over two days’ worth of stubble and shuffled backward, but kept grinning. “Aw, Jason. You didn’t tell us you was expecting no broad. How was we to know?”

  Jason’s anger was much too real, fueled by his unexpected and unwanted reaction to the woman. He couldn’t afford to let this get personal. He wanted to deck Grumman and choke the grin off the degenerate’s face, but common sense told him he needed to get the woman out Now.

  Grumman snickered once more, eyeballing the length of the woman’s bare legs.

  What the hell. Jason had never been one to let common sense get in the way of what he wanted.

  Just as he swayed toward the confrontation, soft fingertips feathered across his shoulder. Her cool voice dampened his rage.

  “Jason, honey,” she drawled softly, “shouldn’t we go now?”

  Her fingers trailed through the curls at the base of his neck. She had definitely caught on to the act.

  “Mr. Grumman, I’m sure this was just a misunderstanding,” she continued, a tremor in her voice. “I only arrived in town today. I got in a little early, and thought I’d surprise Jason.” She turned Jason’s head toward hers with her fingertips under his chin. “Now I’d really like to go to your place and take a long soak.”

  Still, he wavered. Long fingers twisted the hair at the back of his neck and pulled. Hard.

  Ouch. He got the message. She was right. The last thing he needed now was a fight. Jason let out a long-suffering sigh and tried to look mollified. Normally he would stay and watch his goods being unloaded and make sure he got what he paid for.

  Tonight, however, other needs took precedence. “Sure, baby. Let’s go.”

  Morales shoved himself off the crate he’d been leaning on, tossing the toothpick from his mouth to the floor. “Aren’t you going to introduce us to the senorita, Jason?”

  Morales smiled, but his eyes were deadly serious. He wasn’t buying it.

  Jason tightened his grip on the woman. Before his mind could process the options for introducing someone he’d never met, she took the matter out of his hands. Stepping forward, graceful as a minister’s daughter at a Sunday social, she offered Morales her fingers, palm down, for a delicate shake.

  “Lane McCullough.” She dragged out the a and softened the vowels of her last name in a refined Southern drawl. “From down Macon way. Pleased to meet you Mr....Morales, is it?”

  Jason watched nervously, his palm itching for the gun tucked in the small of his back. Who was this woman? He’d assumed she was an innocent bystander somehow reeled into Grumman and Morales’s game. Now he was beginning to wonder. Either she was as cool under pressure as anyone he’d ever seen, or she was too stupid to know how much danger she was in. And he didn’t think she was stupid.