Marie Ferrarella - Cavanaugh Undercover

As his eyes traveled over the length of her, she felt as if she’d just been undressed.

“Well, if you don’t want to stand out, maybe you should be wearing a bag or a sack over your head, because your looks make you a standout in any circle,” Brennan told her.

Tiana stared at him, stunned. “Are you flirting with me?”

He spread his hands wide in innocence. “Just stating it like it is.”

“In other words, you’re flirting with me,” she concluded.

Think again, she warned him silently. She didn’t trust men, especially good-looking ones. “You can save your breath,” she told him out loud. “I am much too rich for your blood.”

He laughed softly. Brennan couldn’t help being amused by her efforts to put him in his place.

“How do you know what I can afford? Maybe I’ve got a bulging … billfold,” he concluded suggestively.

Her eyes narrowed. She was going to enjoy bringing the law down on this one, she thought.

Cavanaugh Undercover

Marie Ferrarella

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MARIE FERRARELLA,a USA TODAY bestselling and RITA ®Award-winning author, has written more than two hundred books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com.

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To

My wonderful readers who wanted

To read about more Cavanaughs.

This newest branch

Belongs to you.

And to Alex Yu who

Told me his friend’s name and

Made a character come to life.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Extract

Prologue

On his way home from the neighboring city of Shady Canyon, lost in his own thoughts, Andrew Cavanaugh smiled broadly to himself.

It had been a good, extremely productive and satisfying visit that had lasted a good deal longer than he’d first anticipated. Dusk had come and gone, and evening, with its long, engulfing shadows, had taken up residence along his route, allowing the hint of a fog to tag along, further intensifying the loneliness of this stretch of land.

It wasn’t often that the former chief of Aurora’s police department patted himself on the back for something, but this definitely was one of those rare times. Through his efforts of relentless investigation, he’d not only discovered the missing branch of his family that his father had charged him with finding, but made contact with them.

Contact? Hell, he made arrangements to have the entire bunch—and it was a rather large bunch—come out to his place a week from next Saturday so that they could get acquainted with a lot of family that they hadn’t even realized existed.

Who would have thought that the missing branch of the family was only a city away? And that those members were all, just as they were here, entrenched in some form of law enforcement?

Andrew didn’t normally believe in coincidences, but this, certainly, was a huge one.

It was a damn small world, Andrew thought, a deep chuckle echoing within the interior of his sedan.

He was really tired, but at the same time, he was very enthused and extremely pleased with the results of his relentless efforts. He’d called Rose before he left for home and shared the entire experience with her. She was as excited as he was about these new family members. She’d said that she couldn’t wait to meet them. That was his Rose, he thought with a surge of affection.

No two ways about it, the woman was a saint to put up with an unending number of family members and still keep on smiling. There were women who would have the exact opposite reaction.

He’d ended the call by telling her that he was coming home tonight, but it might be late so she shouldn’t wait up.

As if she’d listened to him, he thought with a soft laugh. The light of his life listened to him when it suited her, did what she wanted the rest of the time. She always had.

It didn’t matter. He was a hell of a lucky man and he knew it.

He—

Andrew’s breath caught in his throat as he made out something up on the road just ahead.

The slight fog was beginning to settle in more intensely now, and visibility was definitely being challenged.

Damn, what was that, anyway?

Andrew felt for his shirt pocket. It was empty.

Where had he put his glasses? He should have worn them driving home tonight, but they made him feel old.

Hell, you are old, a voice in his head pointed out. As always, he ignored it. He wasn’t twenty-nine anymore, but he was still in the prime of life. Old was destined to be fifteen years older than he was.

Always.

Andrew squinted. He was almost certain he saw someone staggering up ahead in the road. Not wanting to take any chances, he swerved at the last minute to keep from hitting it. As his car spun to the left, he struggled to regain control of it.

Andrew was so busy trying to steer into the spin, he didn’t see the person in the middle of the road raising a gun until it was too late.

The single, resounding shot went into his windshield, shattering it.

The last thing Andrew Cavanaugh was aware of was the windshield glass falling inside his vehicle like so many bits of fragmented snowflakes.

The pain in his chest consumed him, blotting out the entire world.

* * *

The bent, ragged, homeless man, who had appeared to have been so preoccupied with pawing through the overflowing trash cans that were lined up in the alley like so many drunken revelers, came to attention at the first sound of squealing tires. The vacant look on his face vanished as if it had never existed.

Eyes on the fishtailing white sedan in the middle of the deserted road, the undercover DEA agent heard the gunshot screaming through the night air and then saw the shooter hurrying toward the immobilized vehicle.

By then Brennan Cavanaugh stopped pretending that he was just a hapless spectator, interested only in his own survival, and was galvanized into action. He began sprinting toward the car and, more important, toward the victim he glimpsed inside it.

That was when the shooter obviously realized there was someone else in the vicinity besides the driver who had been presumably taken out by the well-aimed bullet.

Biting off what sounded like a livid curse, the shooter turned around and ran back into the shadows, seeking the cover of night. Undoubtedly focused on survival, the shooter didn’t turn around one last time and so wasn’t able to see the ragged man dragging the former chief of police from his car. Consequently, there was no second shot piercing the night air to finish the job.

Only the sound of running feet growing fainter.

* * *

Brennan checked for a pulse the moment he felt he and the victim were far enough away from the car in case it burst into flames.

It took him two tries, but he finally detected a pulse. An extremely faint one.