Suddenly she was hyperaware of how alone they were. Just the two of them. With nothing but the night around them.
âWhoever is trying to kill you wonât know youâre no longer working for PPS. And they might not care even if they do.â
âWhat are you saying? That I should run off to L.A., where Iâll be safe?â Cassie hadnât realized it, but sheâd been counting on Mike to back her up, to agree that staying and working with the team was the best course.
âNo. It might be selfishness on my part, but I want you to stay.â
Cassie let out the breath sheâd been holding. Mike wanting her in Colorado, especially for selfish reasons, meant more than she could say. Since that morning when sheâd lost her hearing, sheâd dreamed of finding a man who would treat her as a partner. A man who believed she was his equal. âI guess I need to figure out where Iâm going to stay.â
âI have an idea. And since my original assignment with PPS is over, I might be in the market for something new.â
âOr something old, like protecting me?â
âI have the feeling protecting you will never get old.â
To Denise Zaza and Allison Lyons. Thanks for inviting me to contribute to this fun series!
Ever since she was a little girl making her own books out of construction paper, Ann Voss Peterson wanted to write. So when it came time to choose a major at the University of Wisconsin, creative writing was her only choice. Of course, writing wasnât a practical choiceâone needs to earn a living. So Ann found various jobs, including proofreading legal transcripts, working with quarter horses and washing windows. But no matter how she earned her paycheck, she continued to write the type of stories that captured her heart and imaginationâromantic suspense. Ann lives near Madison, Wisconsin, with her husband, her two young sons, her border collie and her quarter horse mare. Ann loves to hear from readers. E-mail her at [email protected] or visit her Web site at www.annvosspeterson.com.
Detective Mike LawsonâMike bleeds blue. A cop from a long line of cops, confronted with widespread corruption tainting his beloved Denver PD. Choosing personal ethics over loyalty, now he has to payâ¦.
Cassie AllenâAn overachiever all her life, Cassie was a computer whiz and an accomplished classical pianist before she graduated from high school. But after losing her hearing, Cassie set out to prove she is just like anyone else.
Evangeline PrescottâEvangeline likes to give Prescott Personal Security employees the opportunity to prove themselves. But when Cassieâs life is threatened, Evangeline pulls out the stops to make sure sheâs safe.
The Dirty ThreeâTrio of Denver PD officers arrested for stealing from drug dealers. Now they want revenge.
Deputy Chief Wade LawsonâMikeâs father canât forgive his son.
Detective Tim GradyâMikeâs partner is the only cop he can trust.
Milo KardascianâThe CEO has an old grudge against Mike.
James DurginâIs the millionaire afraid for his life or playing tricks?
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
Epilogue
No amount of booze could wipe a conscience clean. Not that Mike Lawson hadnât given it one hell of a shot tonight.
He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, stumbling in the direction of the fleabag motel next door to the Beer-ly Alive Tavern. Gravel crunched and scuffed under his boots, the sound brittle as breaking glass in the cool April night. Not that he could feel the temperature. His nose and lips were numb as a plastic mask.
He groped in his pocket and pulled out a room key on one of those old-fashioned plastic paddles. No key cards at this place. At least he had brains enough to check into a room before bellying up to attempt to suck the worm out of a bottle of mescal. He sure as hell didnât need to risk driving back to the ranch. As a cop, Mike had seen what happened when booze and cars mixed. He didnât need to add vehicular manslaughter to his list of sins. That list was long enough already.
âGod, I was hoping youâd climb behind the wheel, Lawson.â A voice ground out from the shadows. The light from a nearby post gleamed off a shaved scalp. âIâd love to watch the boys slap the cuffs on you and jam an intoximeter tube down your throat.â
Even in his inebriated state, Mike recognized the voice. His ears started to pound. âArenât you in prison yet, Fisher?â He tried to hold his head steady and squinted into the shadows.
Three men stood next to his pickup truck. Fisher, Stevens and Rodriguez. The Curly, Larry and Moe of the Denver PD. If Mike had been sober, heâd have noticed them the moment he stepped into the parking lot.
âYou think youâre such a goddamn hero, donât you?â Stevens swaggered forward. He balled his hands into fists. The tendons in his wiry arms stood out with iron-pumping definition. âYou didnât even wait for us to go to trial before trying to sell your rat-bastard lies to Mr. Movie Star.â