Janie Crouch - In The Lawman's Protection

An agent will do anything to take down a terrorist.

Even if that means using a woman as his weapon.

To locate a terrorist, Ren McClement must find the criminal’s “dead” wife Natalie. His plan: use the innocent beauty as bait. But when his duplicity leads them into grave danger, Ren reveals his secret to Natalie...and his passion for her. Will furious Natalie be able to forgive his lie? And will they get to the mastermind before he unleashes mass destruction?

Omega Sector: Under Siege

JANIE CROUCHhas loved to read romance her whole life. This USA TODAY bestselling author cut her teeth on Mills & Boon novels as a preteen, then moved on to a passion for romantic suspense as an adult. Janie lives with her husband and four children overseas. She enjoys traveling, long-distance running, movie watching, knitting and adventure/obstacle racing. You can ind out more about her at janiecrouch.com.

Also by Janie Crouch

Daddy Defender

Protector’s Instinct

Cease Fire

Major Crimes

Armed Response

In the Lawman’s Protection

Special Forces Savior

Fully Committed

Armored Attraction

Man of Action

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

In the Lawman’s Protection

Janie Crouch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07927-3

IN THE LAWMAN’S PROTECTION

© 2018 Janie Crouch

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

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This book is dedicated to Mills & Boon.

This is my twentieth book with this great

publishing company, something I never thought

would happen even in my wildest dreams.

Thanks for taking a chance on me and being

the driving force behind romance for readers

all over the world.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

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

Extract

About the Publisher

Chapter One

For a dead woman, Natalie Anderson was pretty paranoid about security.

She rested her forehead against the back of the heavy wooden door. The closed, locked and completely bolted, heavy wooden door. And even though she hated herself for it, she reached down to double-check the security of the locks again.

Double-check , ha. Double-checking could be forgiven. This was more like octuple-check. And it wasn’t just this door. It was every door in the house. And every window.

And she was about to start round nine. She had to stop herself. This could go on all night if she let it; she knew that for a fact.

“Get your sticky notes, kiddo,” she muttered to herself. “Work the problem.”

She’d discovered the sticky note trick around year two of being “dead.” That if she put one of the sticky pieces of paper on each window and door after she was one hundred percent certain the locks were in place, she could finally stop checking it again. Didn’t have to worry she’d accidentally missed one. Otherwise it was hours of the same thing over and over, just to be sure.

She grabbed the knockoff sticky papers she’d gotten from a discount store and began her process. She checked every single door— again —then every single window. The little yellow squares all over the place gave her a sense of security.

Although she had to fight the instinct to check them all one more time just to be absolutely sure.

She hadn’t needed sticky notes in a while. Her tiny, threadbare apartment—not even a full studio, just a room and bathroom that was part of a garage—only had two windows and one door. That didn’t take a whole lot of stationery to make her feel safe.

Agreeing to house-sit a gorgeous beach house in Santa Barbara had seemed liked such a great idea two weeks ago. Something different. Beautiful sunsets on the beach. A place where she could get out her paints, ones she’d caved and bought when she couldn’t afford them, even though she hadn’t painted in six years. Yeah, house-sitting had seemed like such a great idea.

Olivia, a waitress friend at the bar where Natalie worked in the evenings, had talked Natalie into it. Olivia was supposed to have been doing the house-sitting, but her mother had had a stroke and she’d had to go out of town.

So here Natalie was, in a million-dollar home with a view of the Pacific, and instead of cracking the doors to hear the sounds of the ocean or getting out her paints, she had every drape pulled tight and every door battened down enough to withstand a siege. Did she really wish she was smelling the motor oil that permeated everything in her apartment on the far east side of town rather than the brisk February California night air?