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One Good Man
Julie Miller
Mitch Taylor had faith in his gun, his badge, and his years of experience. But he knew society girl Casey Maynard was trouble, and protecting her would be hell. Twenty years on the force had toned Mitch’s body and honed his senses: keeping Casey safe from her stalker wasn't the issue. Keeping himself from falling for her was.She'd been alone, scared, for so long. But in Mitch’s arms Casey felt things she thought she’d lost forever: safety, trust… passion. She needed him there as a cop, to serve and protect. But she wanted him there as a man, to give her something worth living for….
“I am not afraid of cops. And despite what you’re implying, I am not some snob who looks down on them because I’m a judge’s daughter and you’re an officer who serves the court.”
“So why don’t you want me here?” Mitch demanded, the top of his nose nearly touching hers.
“Because I’m afraid of…” Of what? Him? Men? What he reminded her of? What he made her feel? That he made her feel, period?
“What scares you, princess?” he whispered.
Casey zeroed in on the mouth that spoke such a challenge. Sexy. Firm and flat and as unerringly masculine as the breadth of his shoulders or the timbre of his voice.
He liked to argue. He seemed to bring out the worst in her red-haired temperament. Sparring with him made her feel strong. Opinionated.
What if he simply silenced her with a kiss?
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
It’s autumn, and there’s no better time to fall in love with Harlequin Intrigue!
Book two of TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL, The Agent’s Secret Child (#585) by B.J. Daniels, will thrill you with heart-stopping suspense and passion. When secret agent Jake Cantrell is sent to retrieve a Colombian gangster’s widow and her little girl, he is shocked to find the woman he’d once loved and lost—and a child who called him Daddy….
Nick Travis had hired missing persons expert Taryn Scott to find a client, in Debbi Rawlins’s SECRET IDENTITY story, Her Mysterious Stranger (#587).Working so closely with the secretive Nick was dangerous to Taryn’s life, for her heart was his for the taking. But when his secrets put her life at risk, Nick had no choice but to put himself in the line of fire to protect her.
Susan Kearney begins her new Western trilogy, THE SUTTON BABIES, with Cradle Will Rock (#586). When a family of Colorado ranchers is besieged by a secret enemy, will they be able to preserve the one thing that matters most—a future for their children?
New author Julie Miller knows all a woman needs is One Good Man (#588). Casey Maynard had suffered a vicious attack that scarred not only her body, but her soul. Shut up in a dreary mansion, she and sexy Mitch Taylor, the cop assigned to protect her, strike sparks off each other. Could Mitch save her when a stalker returned to finish the job? This book is truly a spine-tingling pager-turner!
As always, Harlequin Intrigue is committed to giving readers the best in romantic suspense.
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Associate Senior Editor
Harlequin Intrigue
One Good Man
Julie Miller
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Julie Miller attributes her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down those feelings she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” This award-winning author and teacher has published several paranormal romances. Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Julie believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.
Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.
Books by Julie Miller
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
588—ONE GOOD MAN
THE TAYLOR CLAN
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Mitch Taylor—Captain of the Fourth Precinct. Gladiator in a suit and tie. He was once a kid of the streets, and the last thing this veteran cop wants to do is baby-sit a Plaza princess.
Cassandra (Casey) Maynard—She lost her family and her future in one horrible act of violence. She knows it’s just a matter of time before her stalker returns to finish what he started.
Commissioner James Reed—Uncle Jimmy is the only family Casey has left. But is he too busy with his reelection to listen to her fears?
Iris Webster—She’s been James’s right hand for years. She’d do anything to protect him.
Emmett Raines—A master of disguise. Toying with his victims is all part of the game.
Darlene Raines—Emmett’s twin. Together, they devised a perfect plan.
Judith and Ben McDonald—They’ve served the Maynards for years.
Jack Maynard—His reputation as the “No-Budge Judge” cost his family dearly.
Steven Craighead—Bodyguard or betrayer?
Cynthia DeBecque—Why does the murdered prostitute’s name keep popping up?
For the Fensoms.
Thank you for always making me feel welcome.
Happy holidays!
And for the IMPROV gang.
You really are making a difference in the lives of young
people. You made a difference in mine.
Contents
Chapter One (#uc383fbea-c91d-5b4e-97da-f51a5d21a995)
Chapter Two (#u174d617c-a78b-5c01-81a4-4ed97e0e49a1)
Chapter Three (#uf30601b6-1c50-590c-b49b-53424b2b5d77)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
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 One
What a hell of a day.
Mitch pushed the door buzzer on the Gothic fortress of a house north of the Plaza and waited. He hated sucking up to the commissioner like this. But when the man in charge of his next promotion called and asked for a personal favor, Mitch was hardly in a position to refuse.
A house check was so routine, he normally would have assigned it to a uniformed patrol. He’d have passed it on to his staff sergeant for her to assign it to a uniformed patrol. He’d even offered to send two of his best detectives in his stead. But Commissioner Reed had insisted on privacy.
Mitch pocketed the electronic gate key the commissioner had given him to get onto the estate grounds, and wondered just what kind of fool’s errand he’d been sent on. His boss had been closemouthed to the extent that Mitch knew very few details about what he was even checking for. “It’s an old family friend,” he’d said. “Just see if there’s any trouble.”
Trouble? Like what? A break-in? Vandalism? A lunatic relative running around naked and embarrassing the family?
Why the hush-hush discretion?
If he was honest with himself, Mitch didn’t really mind doing such a favor. He missed having regular contact with the people who really needed the police’s help, instead of spending most of his hours talking to the press or running the administrative end of Kansas City’s Fourth Precinct.
But not this kind of house. Not these kind of people.
The commissioner didn’t know what he was asking of him.
Mitch checked his watch and then smoothed his leather gloves back into place. It was 6:00 p.m. Surely no one went to bed this early anymore. Maybe the gray November air had driven the residents to the far wing of the house, where they nestled in front of a fireplace, sipping cognac to chase away the chill of the evening.
He punched the doorbell again, laying on the buzzer for an impolite length of time. They could damn well send the servants to answer the door, the tips of his ears were feeling the bite of Missouri’s damp winter.
“This has to be a wild-goose chase,” he muttered to himself, ready to climb back into his Jeep Grand Cherokee and phone Reed on his private line to report no one at home. This was probably some test of his loyalty before the new assistant commissioner was named in January.
Well, Mitch Taylor didn’t play games. If he got the job because he was the best qualified, then fine, he deserved it. But if the selection would be based on politics, he didn’t have a prayer.
Schmooze or you lose, the commissioner had once advised him. If that was the case, Mitch was bound to lose.
His annoying second-guessing was cut short by the crackle of static from a hidden intercom panel. “Yes?”
Mitch looked up toward the source of the raspy voice and located the speaker and camera recessed behind the carved walnut paneling lining the front door. He stepped back, reached inside his coat and pulled his badge from his belt. Holding the identification beside his face, he looked up at the camera.
“I’m Captain Mitch Taylor, KCPD. I’d like to ask you a few questions, ma’am, and, if possible, check the premises for you. We got an anonymous call that there was some trouble here.”
Following orders, he left out the commissioner’s name and treated this like a routine investigation of a reported disturbance. Then, confident that the ID and his authoritative voice would reassure the woman this visit was simply standard procedure, he clipped the badge onto the breast pocket of his coat and waited to be let in.
“There’s no trouble here.” The woman responded too quickly and too breathlessly for him to believe her.
Ah, hell, if Reed had sent him out on a domestic-violence call without any backup…
Mitch reached inside his coat and unsnapped the holster beneath his blazer. His guard-dog hackles went up at the possibility of facing a cop’s most dreaded call, but he forced his voice to remain calm and even pitched.
“Ma’am, if you could just come to the door, I’d like to speak to you face-to-face.”
Before the intercom went silent, he heard a flurry of activity. Mitch’s initial suspicions flared a notch. He adjusted his tie, never blinking his gaze from the doorknob. Then, through the double blockade of the front door and storm door, he heard the distinctive sound of a solid object crashing to the floor, followed by a stifled yelp.
His hand stilled on the knot of his tie.
“Ma’am?” he called. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
Nothing but dead silence answered him. Rusty warning signals that had kept him alive when he worked on the streets labored into overdrive. A spot at the nape of his neck tingled with awareness whenever he sensed something was wrong. Right now, the skin above his collar tickled like crazy.
He unholstered his Glock 9 mm pistol from beneath his suit jacket.
“Ma’am?”
Nothing.
Damn. This was supposed to be routine. A polite introduction, sorry to disturb you and good-night. Some routine. More like a shot in the dark. He’d wake the commissioner tonight and find out exactly what kind of wild ride he’d been sent on.
But first, he had to protect that woman.
“I’m coming in,” he announced.
Mitch flipped his gun around, clutched the barrel and hammered at the glass in the locked storm door. When it shattered, he reached inside and opened it. The wooden door inside was locked, as well. Taking two steps back, he released the safety, aimed his weapon and fired two rounds into the locking mechanism.
The wood splintered around the knob, and the door loosened from its frame. Leaning his shoulder against it, he braced his legs and pushed. The door swung open and he stumbled inside.
The lights in the house immediately flashed on, and a loud, repetitive alarm blared to life. The woman screamed from the back of the house, yelling a warning over the din.
“Routine, hell!” he muttered under his breath.
He rolled to the wall and straightened himself against the ceiling-high paneling. The security lights he’d tripped had a strobe effect on his vision, blinding him more than the utter darkness of the place had.
Mitch relied on his sense of touch to get his bearings. He slid along the paneling until he found a set of double French doors. Locked. He peered in through the glass and saw shrouded objects each time the lights blinked on. A closed-off wing of the house.
