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To Trust a Cop
Sharon Hartley
A tumultuous childhood taught private investigator Merlene Saunders that police are nothing but trouble. Then her latest surveillance job takes a dangerous turn when her subject is murdered and she becomes the focus of the killer. Like it or not, she’s hit the police radar, and in steps sexy detective Cody Warren…trouble of a whole different kind.Against the odds, Merlene feels safe with Cody – he won’t let her in harm’s way. Very quickly things are intense between them, and her walls start coming down. Now she’s torn between the lessons of a lifetime and the urge to open up to the one man she can trust…
The cop who will protect her
A tumultuous childhood taught private investigator Merlene Saunders that police are nothing but trouble. Then her latest surveillance job takes a dangerous turn when her subject is murdered and she becomes the focus of the killer. Like it or not, she’s hit the police radar, and in steps sexy detective Cody Warren…trouble of a whole different kind.
Against the odds, Merlene feels safe with Cody—he won’t let her in harm’s way. Very quickly things are intense between them, and her walls start coming down. Now she’s torn between the lessons of a lifetime and the urge to open up to the one man she can trust….
“Last chance, Merlene.”
Tucking his arm into hers, Cody drew her out of the elevator with him.
“Hey...” She pulled away, but the doors had already closed behind them.
“What’s going on? I know you have something to tell me.”
“And how do you know that?” Furious, she turned to confront him, but was stopped by his probing gaze, a look that brought all of her senses to full alert. Warmth spread outward from the spot on her arm where he had touched her.
“Because I’m a detective,” he said.
“Yeah? Well, so am I.” And she had never been as aware of a man as she was of Cody Warren at this moment—of his height a full foot over her, of the confident way he stood, of a muscular body full of power and authority. Sexy as hell, and infuriating.
Dear Reader,
I love stories about police officers. Something about that hint of danger swirling around the hero or heroine makes their developing passion so much more intense. During my working life as a court reporter, I encountered many situations that sparked my imagination, the “what ifs” that I enjoy turning into books. Now I attend any citizen police academy I can to help me understand the life of a cop. I encourage anyone who wants to know more about law enforcement to check if their local police department allows a citizen ride-along.
I’ve learned law enforcement is a perilous job, a career tough on romance, but that love can always prevail. Take Cody and Merlene, the hero and heroine of To Trust a Cop. When their worlds collide on a difficult case, at first mutual distrust makes the idea of love flaring between them seem impossible. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed telling it.
I’ve met many police officers like Cody, honorable people who always try to do what’s right, no matter the cost. I admire and respect these men and women who stay true to themselves while performing an important but difficult job.
Nothing is better than hearing from my readers! Please visit my website at sharonshartley.com (http://sharonshartley.com).
Be present and stay happy,
Sharon Hartley
To Trust a Cop
Sharon Hartley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sharon Hartley writes romance stories that revolve around cops and the fascinating, often dangerous people that inhabit their world. A previous career as a court reporter, as well as multiple citizen police academies, provides ideas for her fiction. To calm herself from thinking about cops and robbers, Sharon teaches yoga, urging her students to accept themselves just the way they are. She lives on an island in Miami, Florida, with her husband, a Jack Russell terrorist and hundreds of orchids. Sharon loves to hear from her readers! Please contact her at sharonshartley01@bellsouth.net.
This book is dedicated to my sister, Sandy Clark, who inspires me every day.
Her strength and determination have taught me that anything is possible.
Contents
Chapter One (#ue9aba1e5-805d-53e8-8205-5e418b82ef62)
Chapter Two (#u2e7ed5a3-cc70-5597-abe0-1dce7636962e)
Chapter Three (#u044172ae-eb6d-5e0d-9255-ce872e6d2e6e)
Chapter Four (#ud6c54b6d-7e3a-5c96-a817-a0407e5c1fa2)
Chapter Five (#u6273b348-a02e-5ecb-924b-1df3c2de818a)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Excerpt (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE
“YEAH, YOU SING about those cheating hearts, Hank honey.”
Merlene Saunders edged up the volume on her car radio. A little down-home music always put her in the mood to catch another cheating husband, and tonight she definitely needed Hank’s help.
Merlene picked up her camcorder, aimed it at the front of Patricia and Rick Johnson’s graceful Spanish-style home and shot thirty seconds of video. From her vantage point behind a row of live oaks she had a clear view of any vehicles coming or going from the Johnsons’ house.
Nothing exciting to record. Just the expensive, lushly landscaped Coral Gables home of a wealthy orthopedic surgeon. A doctor with a nasty little secret.
“Nothing yet,” she murmured, and lowered the video camera.
Convinced his recent late hours had more to do with an attractive new nurse than an excessive patient load, Patricia Johnson had hired Merlene to conduct surveillance on her husband of fifteen years. Merlene glanced at the photo of a flashy blonde clipped to her visor. If the woman showed up at the house while Patricia spent the next month in North Carolina...well, that was more than enough proof for the high-strung and very jealous Mrs. Johnson.
But Merlene knew she would need much more to prove infidelity to the satisfaction of a judge, so she’d signed a contract to follow Dr. Johnson around Miami for a month, if necessary, to get the goods on him.
Merlene knew how to trail a subject—and not get caught—and now had a license that made it legal.
Just ask my ex-husband, she thought. Now, there was a doctor who’d thought he could get away with anything. Merlene shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of her ex. She didn’t want to believe all men were pond scum, but she’d yet to take a case and discover that the husband had been faithful.
She poured a cup of steaming coffee from her battered Thermos and settled in the seat, her gaze fixed on the Johnson residence. Pat had also promised to recommend her to a friend who did the hiring at a major insurance company if she caught Doc Johnson with his mistress. As she sipped, the strong, hot liquid warmed Merlene. Wouldn’t she just love a regular gig tracking down workers’ comp cheats? That would be more rewarding that chasing cheating husbands. She’d also liked the idea of saving the feds a million or so in Medicare fraud.
A bead of sweat trickled between her breasts, and Merlene pulled her cotton blouse away from damp skin. Miami in August and hot coffee didn’t mix, but she needed the caffeine to stay alert.
She had other props to help, her favorite being Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chocolate-Chip ice cream slowly melting in a blue cooler. Nothing like a jolt of cool, creamy sugar to keep her focused when she got sleepy. She’d packed plenty of crisp tortilla chips and spicy salsa to munch on. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough light to read.
With a sigh, Merlene took another gulp of coffee. The night promised to be a long one. She glanced in the rearview mirror and froze midswallow.
A large figure moved swiftly toward her car.
She dropped her cup in the console and rolled up the window. All four doors were locked. Her keys hung from the ignition for a quick getaway.
“Damn,” she muttered, as the shadowy figure became clearer. As surely as the Grand Ole Opry was in Nashville, a cop of some sort was on his way to speak to her. She’d been able to spot a cop since the age of ten.
No uniform, no marked car visible. Detective, maybe? Could Doc Johnson have spotted her and called 911?
Merlene fished her investigator’s license from her purse and waited for the tall, muscular man to get closer. Early thirties, she guessed, and annoyed about something by the way he punched out determined steps. Good-looking dude from what she could tell, but why the blazes would any man wear a tie in August?
He stopped two feet from the back of her car. “Merlene Saunders?” he shouted. “Miami-Dade County Police.”
So he’d run her license plate. Of course he had.
She rolled down the window and dangled her investigator’s license outside. “I’m unarmed.”
The cop approached and grabbed the license. “You’re a P.I.?”
Craning her head out the window to see his face, she nodded. “Any chance I could see your ID?”
He flashed a detective’s badge, and she barely had time to register the name Cody Warren.
“What’s the problem, Detective Warren?”
He handed back the license, placed his hands on her door and leaned forward to look inside. “What are you doing here, ma’am?”
“I’m on a case.” She patted the camcorder. “Conducting surveillance.”
“Does your surveillance have anything to do with Dr. Richard Johnson?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Then we have a problem.”
“We do?” Merlene stared at Cody Warren, and he glared back with a crystal-blue glare she could easily interpret in the dying light. He didn’t want her here.
Well, so what? She didn’t want him here, either. Cops made her nervous. Plus, his presence could attract attention from the Johnson house.
“Why don’t you hop in and tell me about this problem,” she suggested.
He peered into her tiny car, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I wouldn’t want to sit on your nachos.”
A rush of heat warmed her face. From the chaos surrounding her, it appeared as if a hurricane had blown through her car.
Well, no one ever said conducting a stakeout was easy.
“No problem,” she mumbled, tossing books and snacks into the backseat. She carefully placed the video camera and her new digital camera on the floorboard behind her, then threw her notebook onto the dash next to her binoculars and a deck of cards.
Her compact car became much too small when the cop folded himself into the passenger seat. Damn if his knees didn’t almost reach his chest.
“Does this thing slide back?” Warren asked, reaching for a lever beneath the seat. Before she could answer, he sent the seat zooming back, crackling cellophane and pulverizing her half-eaten bag of corn chips.
He glanced at her. “What the hell was that?”
“My dinner.”
He retrieved the crushed bag from behind the seat and raised an eyebrow. “Very nutritious.”
Merlene lifted her chin. “So I take it you’re with the diet police, Detective Warren. Some sort of special task force to ferret out fat?”
His expression morphed into a scowl. She shifted her weight, knowing she should have curbed her tongue. But that all-knowing male smirk had been too much.
“So what’s your interest in Richard Johnson?” Detective Warren demanded, now all business.
“I’ve been hired to keep track of his activities.”
“By who?”
“That’s confidential.”
He scrubbed his fingers against his chin, and Merlene heard an unmistakable scratch that meant he hadn’t shaved in a while. Long day?
Wishing cops didn’t always make her uneasy, she studied the detective in the fading light. He had an angular yet handsome face, a strong, confident jaw. His nose featured a slight bump, and she wondered if it’d been broken in a fight on the job. From the way he dominated space in the Toyota, he had to be at least six-two. The cotton shirt across his torso confirmed an iron-flat stomach, not an ounce of fat anywhere on him, probably because he never ate junk food.
Good for him.
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Saunders?”
Merlene jerked her gaze to Warren’s face. He watched her with a frown. Lord, what was the matter with her, checking out his body? She swallowed. “I’m wondering why the police are interested in Dr. Johnson.”
Cody shook his head. “Mrs. Saunders, the Miami-Dade Police would greatly appreciate your discontinuing surveillance of the doctor.”
