Triggered

Ben’s breath stirred the tendrils of hair hanging loose from her ponytail.

Kate leaned her back against the solid wall of muscles that was her bodyguard cowboy. The warmth of his arms around her reassured and scared her all at once.

Her hands shook so badly, she thought she might drop the gun.

“Are you afraid?” he whispered.

Yes, yes, she was afraid. Afraid of falling in love with a stranger. Afraid of investing her emotions in someone who would leave as soon as the threat was neutralized. Afraid she would be heartbroken when the dust settled on the Flying K Ranch.

A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing fulltime. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www. ellejames.com.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is dedicated to cowboys

of all shapes, sizes and sexes. These brave men and women work hard, play hard and have a sense of loyalty, decency and ethics we should all aspire to.

Necessity, burning curiosity and a Hummer limo brought him here, but as Ben Harding sat in the leather armchair surrounded by three other men, he wondered what the heck he’d gotten himself into. He glanced around the room again. The only thing he had in common with the others was that they each wore a cowboy hat, jeans and boots.

Beyond that, he knew nothing about the men gathered in billionaire Hank Derringer’s home. The Raging Bull Ranch lay in the heart of the back of beyond, South Texas, where men were tough, the drug runners were tougher and a property owner stood a good chance of getting killed riding across his own spread.

Ben had done his homework. Hank Derringer had become a recluse since he’d lost his family over a year ago in a botched kidnapping attempt. The man had made billions and continued to make more in the oil and gas industry. All facts that were easy enough to find. But why bring these men here? Why now?

Ben would have blown off the invitation to come if he’d had any other choice. His career at the Austin Police Department at an end, he’d been pounding the pavement looking for work and finding that no one, until now, wanted to hire a man who’d been kicked off the force for killing a man with his bare hands.

Did he regret what he’d done?

No.

And he’d do it again, given the same circumstances.

His gut clenched and he fought to push the rage and lingering images to the back of his mind as a tall, slightly older man joined them.

He wore a black Stetson and looked very much like the other men seated around the room. “Gentlemen, I’m Hank Derringer. Thank you all for coming to the Raging Bull Ranch.” He sat near the huge stone fireplace, facing them. “I brought you here because you are the best of the best.”

“Best of the best what, Hank?” The muscle-bound, blond-haired man across from Ben spoke first. He nodded toward Ben and the other two men. “And who are these guys?”

Hank tipped his head toward the man questioning him. “Patience, Thorn. I’m getting to that. For the rest of you, meet Thorn Drennan, the best sheriff Wild Oak Canyon ever had. A man the people could count on to fight for truth and justice.”

Thorn’s eyes narrowed. “You’re forgetting—I’m no longer the sheriff.”

“Precisely.” Hank turned to the man with brown hair, brown eyes and a wicked scar across his right cheek. “Chuck Bolton. Your friends call you Big Tex, born and raised on a ranch near Amarillo. You know how to ride, rope and build fences like the best of them. Served two tours in Iraq and one in Afghanistan where you wiped out an entire Taliban stronghold against your commander’s orders.”

The man sat up straighter, his broad shoulders straining against the seams of his chambray shirt. “Got the boot and a bum leg for that.”

“A man with courage and determination to fight the good fight,” Hank said.

Big Tex shrugged. “I guess it depends on your definition of ‘the good fight.’”

Hank moved on to the next person, a man sitting back from the rest, dark circles beneath his eyes, an intense, haunted expression in his green eyes as he stared out the window. “Special Agent Zachary Adams, one of the FBI’s best undercover operatives working to stop the drug cartels along the border. Got caught in a bad situation on the wrong side of the border. Yet you survived.”

“For what it was worth.” The man’s gaze shifted from the window to Hank. “And, just for the record, former FBI. I quit.”