Angi Morgan - Bulletproof Badge

“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

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANGI MORGANwrites 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.

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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!

Contents

Cover

Introduction “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?

Title Page Bulletproof Badge Angi Morgan www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author 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.

Dedication 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!

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

Chapter Twenty-Five

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

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 had to end this and get inside. He raised his knee into the guy’s chin. Eyes rolling back in his head, his opponent sank to floor. One more kick to his jaw guaranteed he was out cold.

Two succinct pops behind the solid oak door. A bloodcurdling scream. He checked the downed guard for a weapon. Nothing. Last pocket had the key to the door. He got it in the lock, turned and burst inside.

Two women lay dead. Executed.

The intruder had a fistful of hair in one hand and a gun pointed at a third woman’s head. He sported the same rent-a-monkey tux, but had added a face hood to conceal himself.

Slamming the door into the wall was enough to divert the direction of the barrel and make the bastard let the blond hair go. Garrison dropped and rolled, the monkey suit fired, missed. The woman picked up a metal case, swung, connected. The pistol flew under the bed. The case burst open spraying makeup supplies in every direction.

The monkey suit focused his attention on Garrison. Outweighed by forty pounds, Garrison locked his fists and swung them like a bat against a jaw as solid as rock. The bigger man barely staggered back a step.

But he did stagger, giving Garrison enough time to pounce. A double punch connected with ribs. His knee jabbed the man’s thigh. Once. Then twice. And then the gunman threw a punch that hit Garrison square in the chest like a battering ram, slamming his head into the solid door.

The hooded monkey suit left through the balcony doors while Garrison was momentarily stunned. Tingling on his cheeks. A faraway plea for him to wake up. Both brought him fully to his senses.