Bulletproof Badge. Angi Morgan
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“If you get on the back of my bike, I can keep you alive.”
Petrified, she connected with a pair of jade green eyes. Gorgeous. Absolutely the type of man she wanted to be with at any other time.
The stranger held out his hand. “We really need to go now, sweetheart. You coming?”
She straddled the back of the motorcycle. The bike sprang to life and her arms shot around him. There wasn’t any give to his body when her fingers locked together across his hard abs. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his black jacket. She wanted to see nothing, especially the gruesome picture the shooting had left in her mind.
“Hold on tight.”
Had she left the safety of the house for a dangerous daredevil?
Bulletproof Badge
Angi Morgan
ANGI MORGAN writes Mills & Boon Intrigue novels “where honor and danger collide with love.” She combines actual Texas settings with characters who are in realistic and dangerous situations. Angi and her husband live in north Texas, with only the four-legged “kids” left in the house to interrupt her writing. They recently began volunteering for a local Labrador retriever foster program. Visit her website www.angimorgan.com, or hang out with her on Facebook.
Tim, thanks for doing the dishes.
A special thanks to Cindi D & Tamami for bouncing ideas around.
Another to Janie for all the late nights.
Always to my pal Jan (you know why).
And a special shout-out to Brenda R for the constant reader support over the last five years!
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Garrison Travis caught the kick with both his hands before it slammed into his chest. How had he given himself away? Why was this guy so dead set that neither of them get to that bedroom? He’d eventually find out during the interrogation. This moment though— He pulled the leg with him as he fell backward, rolling and placing his opponent under him.
Screams came from downstairs. Shots, upstairs and down, had started this mess. His opponent swung and missed. Garrison retaliated, sending a hard elbow to the guy’s chin. It ripped the tuxedo across his shoulders. Always a good reason to rent. The company could reimburse the bridal shop. He popped to his feet. His opponent did the same.
Right cross. Uppercut. Double jabs to the ribs. He blocked them all and retreated. He was unarmed, having gone into the private event undercover as one of the waitstaff.
Where are the damn security guards or men from downstairs? Hadn’t they heard the shots?
More screams. Pleading through the closed door off of the upstairs landing. He rolled across the plush carpet struggling to get free. He’d been heading to that bedroom with a tray of sangria when he’d heard the shots from the back of the house. He’d sent the text message to his captain from the staircase that shots had been fired. He didn’t have backup, but where were Tenoreno’s men?
The three glasses were crushed across the white carpet, leaving dark red stains. If he could get to the door...
“Come on, man. Somebody’s in trouble.” Why was this guard trying to prevent him from getting to those women?
Right jab. Right jab. His opponent’s face flew back along with his feet. A give-it-all-he-had left to the belly doubled the guy in half. Muffled cries and threats from inside the room. He