Cindi Myers - Lawman Protection

She patted his hand, which still rested on the table in front of her. “You still have a chance to redeem yourself.”

By the time the waiter brought the check, Graham felt almost comfortable with her. He debated asking her out for a real date, but decided to wait. He’d be sure to see her again; the case gave him a good excuse to do so.

He walked her to her Jeep and lingered while she found her keys and unlocked the car door. “Here’s my personal cell.” He wrote the number on the back of his business card and handed it to her. “Call me anytime.”

“About the case—or just to talk?” Her tone was teasing.

“Either. Maybe you’d like to give me your number?”

She smiled and opened her purse. But she never had a chance to write down her number. The loud crack of gunshots shattered the afternoon silence. Her screams rang in Graham’s ears as he pushed her to the ground.

Lawman

Protection

Cindi Myers

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CINDI MYERSis an author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

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For Mike

Contents

Cover

Introduction “I’m not a callous jerk, no matter what kind of first impression I gave you.” She patted his hand, which still rested on the table in front of her. “You still have a chance to redeem yourself.” By the time the waiter brought the check, Graham felt almost comfortable with her. He debated asking her out for a real date, but decided to wait. He’d be sure to see her again; the case gave him a good excuse to do so. He walked her to her Jeep and lingered while she found her keys and unlocked the car door. “Here’s my personal cell.” He wrote the number on the back of his business card and handed it to her. “Call me anytime.” “About the case—or just to talk?” Her tone was teasing. “Either. Maybe you’d like to give me your number?” She smiled and opened her purse. But she never had a chance to write down her number. The loud crack of gunshots shattered the afternoon silence. Her screams rang in Graham’s ears as he pushed her to the ground.

Title Page Lawman Protection Cindi Myers www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author CINDI MYERS is an author of more than fifty novels. When she’s not crafting new romance plots, she enjoys skiing, gardening, cooking, crafting and daydreaming. A lover of small-town life, she lives with her husband and two spoiled dogs in the Colorado mountains.

Dedication For Mike

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

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Would you rather face down half a dozen reporters at a press conference, or shoot it out with drug runners in the backcountry?”

FBI Captain Graham Ellison gave his questioner, Montrose County sheriff’s deputy Lance Carpenter, a sour look. “Is that a trick question? At least with the drug runners I’ve got a fair chance. It doesn’t matter what I say at these press conferences. The media puts the spin on it they want.”

“If the questions get too tough, just look menacing and tell them the safety of local citizens is your primary concern.” Carpenter clapped Graham on the back. “You’ll do great.”

Graham eyed the crowd of reporters, cameramen and news trucks waiting in the parking lot outside the trailer that served as headquarters for The Ranger Brigade—the nickname given to an interagency task force addressing crime on public lands in southwest Colorado. “The safety of citizens is my primary concern,” he said. “Or one of them. I have a lot of concerns—and I don’t need reporters telling me how to do my job, or wasting my time listing all the ways I’m doing it wrong.”

“I don’t think you’ve got any choice in the matter this time.” Lance studied the gathering over Graham’s shoulder. “Prentice and Senator Mattheson forced your hand.”

Graham let out a low growl and shifted his focus to the newspaper that lay open on his desk. Twin headlines summed up his predicament: Mattheson Calls for Dismantling Task Force read one. Prentice Readies for Battle declared the other. Peter Mattheson, senator from Colorado, was on a crusade to “get the feds out of local law enforcement business” and “stop wasting money on federal boondoggles.”

Richard Prentice, a billionaire who’d made a career out of buying up environmentally or historically valuable properties, then blackmailing the federal government into paying top dollar to save the parcels, had filed a lawsuit to force local authorities to allow him to develop property he owned at the entrance to the Black Canyon of the Gunnison National Park.

Graham’s bosses in Washington had “suggested” he hold a press conference to address both these issues. “We’d better get out there before they start making stuff up,” Graham said. He straightened his shoulders, opened the door and stepped out into a hail of shouted questions.

“Captain Ellison, have you spoken with Richard Prentice?”

“Captain Ellison, has the death of Raul Meredes slowed drug trafficking in the area?”

“Captain Ellison, how do you respond to Senator Mattheson’s criticisms of the task force?”

Graham stood on the top step of the trailer and glowered at the gathered media. Flashes around him let him know his scowling face would be in newspapers all over the region tomorrow. More than one news account had described him as “a big bear of a man.” He hoped this time they’d look at him and think “grizzly.” He scanned the crowd for a familiar face, some reporter he knew who’d let him ease into the grilling with a softball question.

A cameraman moved to one side, adjusting his angle, and a woman took advantage of the opening to step forward. Digital recorder in one hand, notebook in the other, she was clearly a reporter, but not one Graham had seen before. He wouldn’t forget a figure like hers. She was tall, with a generous chest and curvy hips, a wild tumble of strawberry blond hair and full lips in a perfect pink bow of a mouth. Her eyes were hidden by fashionably large sunglasses, but he had no doubt she was looking right at him. And frankly, he couldn’t stop staring at her. Forget the fragile, stick-figure women so popular in magazines and on television—here was a real-live, flesh-and-blood goddess. Here was a woman he could embrace without crushing, one he could kiss without getting a crick in his back, one...

“Captain Ellison, what are you doing about the disappearance of Lauren Starling?” the woman asked, her voice husky and deep, carrying easily even in the crowd.