She had felt in control of her life until the moment Jack Trahern had climbed into her car.
“Like I said before, you can go now.” She brushed past Jack, intending to grab his backpack and lead him toward the front door. The narrow galley of the kitchen forced her much closer to him than was comfortable.
“And like I told you, I’m not leaving.” He didn’t budge. He simply watched her with those brilliant blue eyes.
“I can’t stand guys like you.”
“That makes us even, sugar.” He grasped her hands and thrust her away from him, somehow failing to let go.
She looked up, surprised to find his gaze on her face. The look in his eyes could have heated concrete. Oh, Lord, she thought. She wasn’t the only one fighting an attraction.
Friend, Lover, Protector
Sharon Mignerey
MILLS & BOON
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SHARON MIGNEREY
lives in Colorado with her husband and two dogs, Angel and Squirt. From the time she figured out that spelling words could be turned into stories, she knew being a writer was how she wanted to spend her life. She won RWA’s Golden Heart Award in 1995, validation that she was on the right path.
When she’s not writing, she loves puttering around in her garden, walking her dogs along the South Platte River and spending time at the family cabin in Colorado’s Four Corners region.
She loves hearing from readers, and you can write to her in care of Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, 6th Floor, New York, NY 10017.
To firefighters, law enforcement officers
and EMT personnel everywhere, thank you.
Acknowledgments:
Thanks, Robin, for thinking of Jack— I hope you like him. Thanks always, to Lynda Cooper for her invaluable advice with the “cop” details—as always, the good stuff is hers and the mistakes are mine. Thank you, Patti and Daniele, for proofreading and making those last hectic days before deadline easy for me.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Epilogue
Prologue
“The money has been deposited in your account,” said the voice on the other end of the line.
Max Jamison didn’t reply, but then, he wasn’t expected to. His clientele was small and trusted him to be discreet and efficient. The less they all knew about one another, the safer it was for all of them.
He took every precaution to ensure no one knew precisely where to find him. His caller had reached him through a series of forwarded lines scattered all over the country. He could have been sitting in Boston or San Diego. Instead he sat in the den of his home in rural Pennsylvania.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction,” the voice added.
“As soon as I’ve verified the deposit, I’ll make my plans,” Max said. He already knew who his target was. Dr. Dahlia Jensen, an assistant professor at Colorado Mountain University.
“And you received the fax.”
“I did.” Max frowned. Obvious points didn’t need to be covered. All the information he needed to do the job was contained in the fax—the woman’s photograph, address and dossier. He had retrieved the fax from his message box and had followed that up with his own background check on her. Thanks to the Internet, that was now easier than ever. The woman had no unusual habits, if you didn’t classify being a storm chaser as unusual. She was single and lived well within her means. Her only claim to fame was a slew of scholarly papers, all having to do with obscure theories of lightning, published in various scientific journals. He couldn’t lay his finger on a single thing about her that would make her a target for murder.
Carefully, he dismissed that thought, reminding himself that the morality of whether someone deserved to die wasn’t his to determine. He was hired to do a job. No more.
“There is a bonus for you.”
Max didn’t like the sound of that. Bonus by any other name was an additional fee for additional service. He observed a strict protocol, which this conversation violated.
“Contact me via the usual means, and we’ll discuss the matter.” Max severed the connection, deciding this was a job he was no longer interested in doing. Not when the caller knew the rules, knew that details were never discussed over the phone.
He stared unseeingly into the room, then stood and walked across the plush carpet to the window. A lake shimmered in the morning sunlight. A hundred feet from the water’s edge, his sister was in a canoe with her two young children. Recently the twenty-two-year age difference between them had gnawed at him, a reminder he was no longer a young man, no longer had a promising future in front of him. He intended to retire soon.
For himself, he had enough to be comfortable the rest of his life. For his sister and her children…he needed a bit more. Two more jobs, and they would never want for anything.
