The Ranger
A Texas Ranger must protect a single mom with a target on her back…Texas Ranger Mitch Striker’s uncomplicated bachelor lifestyle suits him just fine: catch the bad guys and move on. But there’s nothing straightforward about struggling single mom Brandie Ryland or her adorable four-year-old son Toby. The beautiful redhead is the prime suspect in Mitch’s undercover investigation. But when a hostage standoff leaves Brandie’s family vulnerable and uncovers a roomful of contraband and drugs, Mitch second guesses her involvement in the crime…and his ability to keep his emotional distance. With the danger growing and the clock ticking, Mitch must save Brandie, catch the perps and face the daddy heartstrings Toby keeps tugging on. Then he'll have to face the secrets he’s sure Brandie’s keeping—before they become his undoing.
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âThank God, youâre awake,â Brandie said, dropping to her knees. âAre you okay?â
âTell me what happened and why youâre here. Was there a break-in?â Mitch asked.
âI ⦠um â¦â Her eyes darted everywhere except directly at him.
Sign of a guilty conscience?
âBrandie? Did you see anything? Have you called the sheriff? And you still havenât said what brought you to the garage.â
âHow hard did they hit your head? Those are the most words youâve ever said to me at one time before.â
âSorry.â
âDonât be. I like the sound of your voice. Makes me feel safe.â She twisted her fingers in the bottom of her shirt. âI got a phone call that the door was open. When I pulled up you were unconscious.â
She had to have received a call or visit from the mystery man whoâd jumped him. This entire time, heâd had his ear to the ground listening for pertinent news about someone helping the Mexican cartel.
Heâd never suspected he might be working for that very person.
ANGI MORGAN writes Mills & Boon>® Intrigue novels âwhere honor and danger collide with love.â She combines actual Texas settings with characters who are in realistic and dangerous situations. Angi and her husband live in north Texas, with only the four-legged âkidsâ left in the house to interrupt her writing. They recently began volunteering for a local Labrador retriever foster program. Visit her website, www.angimorgan.com, or hang out with her on Facebook.
Thanks to everyone in the magic room: Jan, Janie, Lara, Jodi, Tish, Jen, Gina, Tyler Ann and Robin. Tim, thanks for doing the dishes. And Kourtneyâwho consistently amazes meâthank you so much for your help with this series.
Contents
Mitch cracked one eyelid open, staring at pavement. The last thing he remembered was palming his .45 and soundlessly skirting the back wall of Juniorâs garage. Heâd been about to open the office door, tripped and then nothing but stars. God bless âem, but heâd seen enough pinpoints of light in the past couple of minutes to last a lifetime.
Texas Ranger Mitchell Striker had been an undercover mechanic in Marfa going on six months. Too long in his humble opinion, but no one asked him. He couldnât see a blasted thing from his position on the cement. He concentrated on the sounds around him. Shuffling of smooth-soled shoes inside the office. Papers falling to the floor. Excited breathing.
It didnât make sense that heâd fallen. If anything was out of place where he worked, he would have been the one to leave it there.
Nothing was ever left out of place. He hadnât tripped.
Heâd been hit on the back of his head. If he concentrated any harder, heâd hear the lump pushing through his hair. Inching his left hand, minutely extending his arm, he tried to find his gun.
A noise like someone bumping the chair, followed by muffled voices awakened him from a light sleep in the back room. Heâd come to the office but must not have been as quiet as heâd thought. The guy with the smooth shoes had gotten the drop on him.
âYou didnât have to hit him with a wrench.â
Mitch froze, recognizing the womanâs voice. Daughter of the garage owner and his boss, Brandie Ryland. She should be at home with her son, not rustling through files in the middle of the night. Files she had access to anytime she asked in the daylight.
âWhat if youâve seriously hurt him?â
âGood. We told you to clear him out for a while. Whyâs he here in the middle of the night? You got something on the side?â
Male voice with a bit of a northern nasal. Clearly not from south of the border or Texas.
âHeâs my mechanic and sleeps in the back room.â Brandie moved next to him. Tiny bare feet, he could see sheâd painted her toenails herself and had missed a spot on the outside of her pinky. The color was her, calm blue with festive glitter. She knelt beside him, and her toes were replaced with cartoon characters covering her knees.
âWhere do you hide the cash around here?â
She wanted to rob her own garage? She didnât need muscle for that.
Cool, shaky hands gently parted the hair where heâd been hit. Just a lump or she would have hissed at the sight of blood. Mitch had seen her practically pass out when Toby had gashed his shin falling from his tricycle. She stroked his longish hair covering his face to tuck it behind his ear. He was forced to completely close his eyes and couldnât see where her partner was located.
âI donât keep cash here.â Brandie was lying. Mitch knew she put it in the safe overnight and drove it to the bank after the breakfast crowd thinned out.
