Cassie Miles - Undercover Colorado

“That’s the story.”

“That might be more believable, if it was more true.” He rose from the bed and took one step to stand in front of her. “Both times when we kissed, it was a lie.”

Her breath caught in her throat. She knew what was coming next.

He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Kiss me now, as yourself.”

“That might not be wise.” Even as she spoke, she knew resistance was futile. With every fiber of her being, she wanted to kiss him.

“Kiss me, Abigail Nelson.”

She melted into his arms. When their lips met, it was different than their other kisses. Instead of fierce and demanding, he was oh-so-gentle.

Her arm encircled his torso. Their bodies skimmed against each other. Sensation built gradually, slowly. Oh yes, this kiss was very different.

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To Linda Hull and Jan Gurney,

the powers that be. And, as always, to Rick.

For Cassie Miles, the best part about writing a story set in Eagle County near the Vail ski area is the ready-made excuse to head into the mountains for research. Though the winter snows are great for skiing, her favorite season is fall when the aspens turn gold.

The rest of the time, Cassie lives in Denver where she takes urban hikes around Cheesman Park, reads a ton and critiques often. Her current plans include a Vespa and a road trip, despite eye-rolling objections from her adult children.

Mac Granger—The cynical Denver cop, wounded in the line of duty, becomes part of a bigger sting operation.

Abby Nelson—The FBI Special Agent goes undercover as sex bomb Vanessa Nye to entrap a dirty cop.

Sheila Hartman—Mac’s partner is always in the wrong place and the wrong time.

Hal Perkins—Mac’s lieutenant at the Denver PD.

Vince Elliot—The vice cop has been on the trail of a drug lord for months.

Nicholas Dirk—The high-powered mogul in Vail is involved in shady dealings.

Leo Fisher—Abby’s former fiancé, the FBI undercover agent obsesses about his suspects.

Julia Last—FBI Special Agent in charge of safe house operations.

Roger Flannery—The rookie FBI agent always gets the worst assignments.

Paul Hemmings—Eagle County Deputy Sheriff and Mac’s boyhood friend.

Jess Isler—Member of the Vail Ski Patrol and Mac’s buddy.

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

The gun weighed heavy in his hand. The last time Detective Mac Granger unholstered his piece was three months ago at the shooting range when he drilled the heart of the paper target nine out of ten shots.

It was a Thursday night in September. Mac and his partner, Detective Sheila Hartman, had been on their way to a homicide investigation in north Denver when a squawk came over the radio in their unmarked car: “Officer in need of assistance.”

Headed north on Park Street, they had just passed the homeless mission with the red neon Jesus Saves sign. They were close to the location given and arrived first on the scene—a dark, deserted city street lined with two-and three-story buildings. The crumbling bricks were stained by years of greasy soot from the nearby railyards.

Three other cars were carelessly parked near a run-down warehouse. The door to the loading dock gaped open. Inside the warehouse, it was pitch-dark.

As Mac emerged from the car, gun in hand, the night breeze whipped around him. A crumpled sheet of newspaper rolled down the street like a tumble-weed. From ten blocks away, he heard a resounding cheer from the baseball fans at Coors Field where the Rockies were playing a night game. Home run.

From inside the warehouse, gunfire exploded. Several shots in rapid succession. A semiautomatic weapon. This sounded like something bigger than he and his partner could handle. “Stay back,” he ordered Sheila. “Other patrol cars will be here in a minute.”

She shot him a glare. Sheila was inexperienced and willful. She could be a real pain in the ass.

“Police,” she yelled. “Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

“Come and get us,” was the response.

“Us,” Mac said pointedly. “There’s more than one.”

Ignoring him, Sheila yelled again. “You’re surrounded. Give up now.”

He cursed under his breath. If the bad guys came onto the street, they could see at a glance that the only cops on the scene were the two of them. Frankly, he and Sheila weren’t real impressive when it came to firepower.

“Stay here,” he said to her.

“Maybe I could circle around and—”

“Stay.”

The woman was impossible. They wouldn’t even have been in this area if they’d gone directly to their crime scene in north Denver instead of stopping once because Sheila had to pee, then again because she wanted a latte.

Mac ran toward the loading dock and flattened himself against the brick wall. If anybody came out, they’d be caught between him and his partner.

A bulky figure charged through the open maw of the loading dock and leaped down from the ledge. He landed on the pavement only a few yards away from Mac.

“Drop your weapon,” Mac ordered. “Raise your arms.”

Immediately, the man obeyed. Mac grabbed his arm and flung him face-first against the brick wall. It was Vince Elliot, an undercover vice cop.

Vince gave no sign of recognition. Even in the heat of confrontation, he didn’t break cover.

As Mac cuffed him, he whispered, “This is a drug sting gone bad. Be careful. I want to take these guys alive.”

Sheila abandoned her position and came toward them. Dumb move. The worst thing they could do in this situation was to stand together and get mowed down by one blast.

Angrily, Mac motioned for her to go back. He could hear the sirens of approaching patrol cars. Backup was on the way.

Sheila made a confused gesture. Then she stamped her foot and checked her wristwatch as if she were late for a manicure appointment.

Four armed men emerged from the dark warehouse. The one in front aimed directly at Sheila.

Mac had to protect his partner. He fired once, point-blank. The man with the gun went down.

Time froze. Everything went into slow motion. Mac shoved Vince Elliot to the pavement and stepped in front of him. He looked into the faces of the armed men who turned toward him. He saw panic in their eyes. When they returned fire, he imagined the bullets poised in midair. The thunder of gunshots resounded against brick walls.

It occurred to Mac that he might die right here on this cold city street. A fitting place. Though he had been born and raised in the mountains, this was where he belonged.