A sly, sexy grin spread over Penny’s mouth. “You don’t trust me?”
“Not one bit.”
She batted her eyes. “Oh, Russell. Flattery will get you everywhere.”
At that, he had to laugh. “You’re a piece of work. I’m glad I saved your life today.”
She picked up a pen and threw it at him. “No fair bringing the whole saving-my-life thing into it.”
The pen hit him in the chest and he snatched it up. Mont Blanc. For what that sucker cost, she shouldn’t be throwing it around.
“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t try to play me and I won’t remind you I saved your life.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”
She glanced at his hand and pursed her lips.
After what felt like another solid minute, she reached her hand out. “Fine. Deal.”
Russell didn’t know if it was the thrill of having her agree or just the touch of her hand, but he was suddenly reluctant to let go.
The Defender
Adrienne Giordano
USA TODAY bestselling author ADRIENNE GIORDANO writes romantic suspense and mystery. She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports-obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier). She is a cofounder of Romance University blog and Lady Jane’s Salon-Naperville, a reading series dedicated to romantic fiction.
Please visit www.adriennegiordano.com. Adrienne can also be found on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/AdrienneGiordanoAuthor, and on Twitter, at www.twitter.com/AdriennGiordano. For information on Adrienne’s street team, Dangerous Darlings, go to www.facebook.com/groups/DangerousDarlings.
Contents
Chapter One
Standing on the Cook County Federal Courthouse steps, special agent Russ Voight decided Penny Hennings deserved a star on the Perfect Posteriors of America wall of fame.
Maybe that was sexist, but since his meeting with Penny had been put on ice while she and Gerald Hennings—her legendary defense-attorney father—held an impromptu press conference, Russ needed a way to distract himself. And Penny’s rear provided a great distraction.
Months ago, his coworkers at the Chicago FBI field office had dubbed her Killer Cupcake for her aggressive cross-examination skills, but to Russ’s way of thinking, she might be Killer Cupcake for other reasons. Those reasons having nothing to do with a courtroom and everything to do with her, his bedroom and lots of free time.
Ah, distractions. How he loved them.
Bang. A gunshot cracked the air.
Gerald ducked. Penny didn’t. Blood roared to the front of Russ’s brain. He snatched his sidearm from his holster, pushed off the iron railing he’d been leaning on and spotted Penny—not ten feet away—frozen on the steps as the reporter in front of her crumpled. Hit.
Loud, ear-blasting screams erupted. Pedestrians dived to the ground—dead-last thing they should do—or ran like hell, exactly what they should do. Russ sprinted toward Penny, still glued to her spot, and did a quick recon. Where’s the shooter?
Bang.
Across the street. High up.
“Run!” Russ shouted.
But Penny didn’t move. She just stood there in the streaming sunshine while her red power suit made one hell of an amazing target. One step below, her father had dropped. Whether he’d been hit or not, Russ couldn’t tell. Get there. Three more steps. He latched on to Penny’s arm, dragging her behind him. Gerald Hennings lifted his head. Alive. “Move!”
Penny turned back to her father. “Dad.”
“You’ve got to move,” Russ
