Last Man Standing

Untangling her fingers from the mahogany silk of Cole’s hair, Tori flattened her palms against his massive chest and forced herself to breathe.

Though he still had her perched on the desk, Cole, too, was making a visible effort to slow his breathing and ease his grip on her. He peppered her face with tiny kisses, drawing out the last sparks of her combustible reaction to him.

He wanted something from her. But why?

Tori sorted her thoughts and calculated possibilities, trying to regain the upper hand, which she feared she’d lost for good. She raised an eyebrow and challenged his high-handed behavior. “I don’t know what kind of game—”

“Believe me, sweetheart, this is no game.” His deep voice dropped back to a whisper for her ears alone. He smoothed his palms up and down the bare expanse of her upper arms, raising goose bumps and placating her for the benefit of the witnesses behind her. He brushed the warning against her ear under the guise of yet another kiss. “Follow my lead and we’ll both walk out of here.”

Tori’s entire body went rigid with protest. “You want me to pretend—?”

“And I expect you to be a very good actress.”

Julie Miller attributes her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and to shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down all those feelings she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” This award-winning author and teacher has published several paranormal romances. Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Julie believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.

Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.

Cole Taylor—He was once the finest that the KCPD had to offer. But two years under deep cover is enough to break any man. He’s lost his soul to death and lies.

Victoria “Torie” Westin—She’s been assigned an impossible mission—one where she’ll have to choose between her life or her heart…and might very well lose both.

Jericho Meade—An aging, ailing crime lord. A lot of people are vying to take over his position in Kansas City. And someone doesn’t want to wait until he dies of natural causes.

Chad Meade—Jericho’s nephew and the #1 candidate for his uncle’s position in the family business.

Daniel Meade—A haunting memory? Or a very real threat?

Paulie Meredith—Meade’s right hand since their early days on the streets.

Lana Shepherd—She’s the mastermind behind Meade’s criminal campaigns. But she has a bad track record with men.

Aaron Polakis—Not your typical butler.

Backer and Brady—Who are those guys, anyway?

Lancelot—A mystery man with a grudge against the Meades.

A. J. Rodriguez—Cole’s former partner on the police force.

The Taylor Clan—Someone’s out to get them. They’ve banded together time and again to protect each other in times of crisis. But this time they may not be able to save one of their own.

In memory of Margaret Miller.

With special thanks to the gang on the CODE NAME: INTRIGUE discussion loop at .

I appreciate your enthusiasm for Intrigue, your support for the authors and each other, your insightful ideas and all the fun we have hanging out together.

Prologue

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

Epilogue

“One should be all dead when one is half dead…”

Edgar Lee Masters—SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY

Amazing what kind of dull, dreary errands a sixteen-year-old boy with a new license would run with his grandmother, so long as the opportunity to drive was involved.

Martha Taylor grinned, taking good care to keep her amusement out of sight behind the muscular shoulders of her newly adopted grandson. Already they’d been to the cleaner’s, the post office, and now the grocery store without a single complaint about boredom or getting up early on a summer vacation morning. She’d gone through this same spate of volunteerism with all six of her boys, starting more than two decades ago. Some things never changed.

A young man’s appetite didn’t change, either, she noted, following Alexis Pitsaeli Taylor as he pushed the shopping cart across the parking lot to her teal van. He’d already dug into the sacks and opened a box of cream-filled cupcakes. The first one had disappeared in two bites and now he was working on his second.

“Let’s put the sacks in the back, Alex.” Martha opened her new straw purse and fished out her key ring to unlock the doors for him. But he already had his shiny new keys—a spare set copied and given to him by his grandfather—in hand and had pushed the unlock button. She halted a step as he lifted the hatchback and started unloading the cart. He paused just long enough to pop the last of the cupcake into his mouth. Martha grinned. “I think we’d better go home and get some lunch before all these groceries disappear into that bottomless pit you call a stomach.”