She straddled the back of the motorcycle. The bike sprang to life and her arms shot around him. There wasn’t any give to his body when her fingers locked together across his hard abs. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his black jacket. She wanted to see nothing, especially the gruesome picture the shooting had left in her mind.

“Hold on tight.”

Had she left the safety of the house for a dangerous daredevil?

Bulletproof Badge

Angi Morgan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ANGI MORGAN writes Mills & Boon Intrigue novels “where honor and danger collide with love.” 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 “kids” 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.

Tim, thanks for doing the dishes.

A special thanks to Cindi D & Tamami for bouncing ideas around.

Another to Janie for all the late nights.

Always to my pal Jan (you know why).

And a special shout-out to Brenda R for the constant reader support over the last five years!

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Extract

Chapter One

Garrison Travis caught the kick with both his hands before it slammed into his chest. How had he given himself away? Why was this guy so dead set that neither of them get to that bedroom? He’d eventually find out during the interrogation. This moment though— He pulled the leg with him as he fell backward, rolling and placing his opponent under him.

Screams came from downstairs. Shots, upstairs and down, had started this mess. His opponent swung and missed. Garrison retaliated, sending a hard elbow to the guy’s chin. It ripped the tuxedo across his shoulders. Always a good reason to rent. The company could reimburse the bridal shop. He popped to his feet. His opponent did the same.

Right cross. Uppercut. Double jabs to the ribs. He blocked them all and retreated. He was unarmed, having gone into the private event undercover as one of the waitstaff.

Where are the damn security guards or men from downstairs? Hadn’t they heard the shots?

More screams. Pleading through the closed door off of the upstairs landing. He rolled across the plush carpet struggling to get free. He’d been heading to that bedroom with a tray of sangria when he’d heard the shots from the back of the house. He’d sent the text message to his captain from the staircase that shots had been fired. He didn’t have backup, but where were Tenoreno’s men?

The three glasses were crushed across the white carpet, leaving dark red stains. If he could get to the door...

“Come on, man. Somebody’s in trouble.” Why was this guard trying to prevent him from getting to those women?

Right jab. Right jab. His opponent’s face flew back along with his feet. A give-it-all-he-had left to the belly doubled the guy in half. Muffled cries and threats from inside the room. He had to end this and get inside. He raised his knee into the guy’s chin. Eyes rolling back in his head, his opponent sank to floor. One more kick to his jaw guaranteed he was out cold.

Two succinct pops behind the solid oak door. A bloodcurdling scream. He checked the downed guard for a weapon. Nothing. Last pocket had the key to the door. He got it in the lock, turned and burst inside.

Two women lay dead. Executed.

The intruder had a fistful of hair in one hand and a gun pointed at a third woman’s head. He sported the same rent-a-monkey tux, but had added a face hood to conceal himself.

Slamming the door into the wall was enough to divert the direction of the barrel and make the bastard let the blond hair go. Garrison dropped and rolled, the monkey suit fired, missed. The woman picked up a metal case, swung, connected. The pistol flew under the bed. The case burst open spraying makeup supplies in every direction.

The monkey suit focused his attention on Garrison. Outweighed by forty pounds, Garrison locked his fists and swung them like a bat against a jaw as solid as rock. The bigger man barely staggered back a step.

But he did stagger, giving Garrison enough time to pounce. A double punch connected with ribs. His knee jabbed the man’s thigh. Once. Then twice. And then the gunman threw a punch that hit Garrison square in the chest like a battering ram, slamming his head into the solid door.

The hooded monkey suit left through the balcony doors while Garrison was momentarily stunned. Tingling on his cheeks. A faraway plea for him to wake up. Both brought him fully to his senses.

“Get up. We’ve got to go,” the woman whispered. Her makeup had smeared from the tears running down her face. “Come on.”

Garrison took in the room. The lady of the house and her guest were lying holding hands on the floor. Both shot execution style in the back of the head. The other shots from downstairs must have been this guy’s cue to take care of the extended family.

Top Texas organized crime boss wives. Dead instead of extracted. The captain was going to have his head on one of these silver platters.

“What are you waiting for? They’re coming up the stairs, and I don’t know what to do.”

He got to his feet. “Close and lock the door.”

There was nothing he could do for either woman. While the one left alive did as she was told, he reached under the bed with the hankie from his tux pocket and retrieved monkey suit’s gun. The man had been in gloves, but maybe they’d get lucky.

Then again, they had a witness. He swiped the business card from the dresser. Kenderly Tyler, hair and makeup. Long multicolored golden or ash-blond hair past her shoulders, oval face and dark chocolate eyes. She was a little taller than his shoulder. He memorized the way she looked, every shapely curve covered in shiny sequins.

The doorknob shook. Shoulders slammed against the wood. His eyes fell to the gun in his hand. The Tenoreno men wouldn’t ask questions. They’d shoot first.

“Kenderly?” He’d ask her why she’d waited for him once they were safe. Teary eyes questioned what he wanted. He jerked his head toward the balcony.

Following the gunman’s path, they ducked into the cooling Texas sun. He kept her back against the brick, blocked her from anyone’s view on the ground with his body. He could see down the open roads that his backup was nowhere in sight. The gunman was next to the pool house. Unless he wanted both crime families coming after him forever, he’d eventually need something to prove there was another person in the house. He dug into his front pocket, swiped the phone and took a series of pictures.

Heading the opposite direction next to the garage would take them to his bike. And right next to an older Volkswagen Beetle where two armed guards stood. They weren’t waiting for them. At least not yet.

Which way? Follow the killer or protect his witness? Not a real question.

If the family got hold of her, he’d never find her again. They may even think she’d pulled the trigger or that he had. That settled which direction they’d run. He swung his legs over the side, dangling like a baited worm on a hook before he dropped and sprang up from the grass.

He looked up at the blonde who tossed him a small jeweled box, then a purse. She shook her hair away from her face as soon as she hiked a leg over the banister. He pointed to her shoes, which she flicked off, hitting the ground next to him. He scooped them up and shoved them in his pockets along with the box.

“Grab the bottom with your hands. Then lower, and I’ll catch you.” He tried to shout in a whisper. He kept looking over his shoulder expecting a gun in his kidney at any second.

Kenderly Tyler wasn’t exactly ladylike coming down. At least she stifled her short scream the two feet she fell into his arms. There wasn’t any type of special moment or slow-motion feel as she slid through his grasp to the grass. She pushed back, picked up her purse and ran.

The men breached the room right behind her escape. Moans, cries, questions shouted to God... Garrison caught up with her before she darted across the driveway. He tucked her behind him, gave her a shush signal and evaluated their position.

They hugged the house, avoiding the guards. All pointing their guns around corners and opening car doors. Taking their time. Didn’t they want to find the gunmen? It was one thing to sign up to fight in Tenoreno’s army. It was much different when that army went to war. Shoot. His job would be easier if he could just shout at them to search for the killer by the pool.

The guards were armed to the teeth and outfitted better than the Secret Service. How the hell had they allowed the gunmen on to the property in the first place? Why had the gunman executed the women? Had the shots fired downstairs taken out the rival organized crime bosses, too?

Just as he thought they’d be in the clear, his witness darted around him and headed straight to the Volkswagen. Too many questions had distracted him. He needed to secure Kenderly Tyler and hightail it back to Company F.

* * *

ONE STEP AT a time and she’d make it. Kenderly’s hands shook, rattling the keys as she tried to push one into the car door. She just needed inside. She saw the man who had let her in the gate earlier. He held up his hand for her to stop.

No way. She couldn’t stay with all the guns and...death. She ignored him and sat behind the wheel. He put his finger in his ear, then looked at her again and began running. His rifle bounced across his chest until he held it against his ribs.

The keys rattled. Her body was shaking now. Isabella and Trinity were dead. She would have been next. They were going to kill her. If she hadn’t been cleaning up in the bathroom, she would already be faceless and...and...

The man with a rifle yanked the door open and grabbed a fistful of her hair, tugging. She’d forgotten to lock the door, but somehow she’d already put on her seat belt so she was stuck. He reached across and popped the lock, then yanked again. All she could do was grab his wrist to keep her hair attached to her head.

The image of the dead women fixed on the back of her eyelids. Every time she blinked she saw the blood and gore. He pulled her hair to get her to move, but she was about to be terribly sick.

With blurred vision, she leaned forward and lost what little was in her stomach. The man hopped out of her way. Hearing more fighting above her head, she continued to retch. Someone pulled back her hair, put an arm around her waist and helped her stand. He led her off the white gravel drive. Past the man who had yanked her hair, now unconscious on the green grass. Its cool shaded lushness registered under her bare feet.

“Water?” she squeaked out.

“Can’t help you with that,” a deep Texas twang answered. “But if you get on the back of my bike, I can keep you alive.”

As weary as she was, that popped her head up. Petrified, she connected with a pair of jade-green eyes, sandy short brown hair and a casual self-confident smile that didn’t belong in her surreal afternoon.

Gorgeous. Absolutely the type of man she wanted to be with any other time. He dangled her shoes in front of her, and she slipped them on.

The stranger held out his hand. “We really need to go now, sweetheart. You coming?”

Yes. But she didn’t think she said it out loud. She straddled the back of the motorcycle in her short skirt and heels. Two large, strong hands grabbed her thighs, pulled her closer and placed her feet on two metal rods. Her sequined skirt was up as high as it could be without revealing anything, but now wasn’t the time to care.

The motorcycle sprang to life, and her arms shot around him. There wasn’t any give to his body when her fingers locked together across his hard abs. She closed her eyes and buried her face against his black jacket. She wanted to see nothing, especially the gruesome picture the shooting had left in her mind.

The motorcycle screeched to a halt, sliding sideways in the gravel. Her rescuer slowly took off across the field, avoiding the closed front gate.

“Hold on tight.”

She didn’t think she could hold tighter until her bottom was airborne over the first incline. Had she left the safety of the house for a dangerous daredevil? Had it been safe at the house? Absolutely not. And how did she know for certain this man wasn’t a part of the...the...

Go ahead and say it. Murders! The man dressed in black had murdered two people right in front of her, then stared openmouthed as she’d screamed. This wasn’t the killer. His dark green eyes proved that. The man she’d fought with was just as tall, but his eyes were black with hatred.

She’d never forget those eyes.

They flew over the next small hill, landing hard on both tires.

“Slow down before your kill us!” she shouted in his ear.

“Can’t. They’re following. May start shooting.”

She turned behind them, her hair whipped across her face. Sure enough, a black SUV bounced over the rolling hills of the Texas lake country. The motorcycle skidded, and she held tighter. If the men shot at them, she’d be dead. Period.

Her rescuer turned sharply, heading toward a tree line. “Where are you going?”

“Where they can’t.”

The trees were so thick she didn’t think they could get through, either. He slowed a little, but zigzagged, tilting them from side to side, making her want to put her feet out to drag along the ground. She kept them secured and kept her body smooshed against the stranger’s back, moving like a second layer with him.

Bushes whacked at her legs as they zoomed past. The branches stung but suddenly stopped. The first thing she saw was the perfectly smooth carpet of green. She looked behind them, and no one followed. The SUV turned and followed on the other side of the trees for a few seconds before turning away.

“Hey!”

Someone shouted, making her look forward. They were on a golf course, bouncing yet again over the greenway to a cart path. Once there, the ride was smoother, but her hero didn’t slow. If anything, he went even faster. It was a Friday night at dusk, and the golfers were finishing their rounds. So they were few and far between on the earlier holes they’d zipped past.

Kenderly only relaxed a little. This time when her eyes closed, they were burning with tears for Isabella. No one deserved to die that way.

He was right. Her hero. They couldn’t stop. Her unnamed rescuer popped over curbs, into a parking lot and on to the street. He ran stop signs, passed other cars as if they were standing still and just kept going.

Once on Highway 71 leading back to Austin, he wrapped his long fingers around her thigh and gently tugged her close again. His subtle message was that their wild ride wasn’t over. She moved, resting her head once more on his back. They rocketed through the wind, which didn’t allow for talking.

She couldn’t have answered any of his questions or any of the thousands running through her mind. Isabella had given her a small jewelry case and told her not to open it for three days.

Oh no! The case! She’d dropped it somewhere. She’d been so out of it by losing her cookies all over the guard’s feet that she’d forgotten. What had Isabella not wanted anyone to know? Why was she supposed to wait three days? Kenderly wasn’t sure she’d ever know now.

Her hero stroked her frozen forearm, slowly warming it back to life against his chest. When she cried harder, he held on to her hands tighter.

It didn’t matter who he was. He’d probably saved her life. Okay, he’d definitely saved her life. But that was only one reason she was thankful. The stranger’s actions in the past few minutes were more intimacy and kindness than she’d felt in years.

Chapter Two

The arm under Garrison’s hand was no longer frozen. Early spring in Texas was fine with lots of sunshine on you, but once it got dark—and speeding in excess of seventy miles per hour—you could get chilled to the bone.

“You can let me off anywhere,” she said as he slowly merged with city traffic near the university hangouts.

“I don’t think so, sweetie. No discussion necessary.” He sped up again to limit the conversation.

“But I need to go back. I have to.”

Darting between stopped cars, the horns blared as he pushed safely through red lights. He had to keep moving, so she couldn’t jump off. Go back? She was the ranger’s big break, and he couldn’t let her disappear.

“Let me go at the next corner, or I’ll start screaming my head off,” she shouted, piercing his ear.

“We have a head start, but we’re still being followed.” It was logical to think so. There was only one road back to Austin from the crime scene. It didn’t make sense that Tenoreno’s men would give up because of a row of trees. He slowed the bike to a more normal speed. “After I rescued you and everything, screaming just wouldn’t be cool.”

“Neither is kidnapping.”

“Come on, Kenderly. We both know I’m not kidnapping you. I saved your a— I got you out of there safely,” he amended. “Why the hell do you want to go back?”

“I appreciate it. I really do. But there’s something I... I just want to go home.” She sat straighter, pulling away from him.

He immediately missed her soft breasts pushed against his back. He needed both hands to control the bike, or he’d pull her closer again. Instead he pulled into a parking lot, darted to the side of the building and cut the engine. He twisted a bit on the seat to face her and reached into his pocket.

“Is this what you need to go back for?” He held up the smaller case he’d picked up from her seat. “The purse strap got stuck on the gear shift. I couldn’t get that. You tossed this to me at the balcony.”

“Oh my God, thank you so much.” She reached for it, but he kept it high above her head.

“I’m thinking I should have a look inside.”

“No. You don’t understand. It isn’t mine.”

“Then I especially need to look inside.”

“Just who do you think you are? A hotshot waiter with a fast motorcycle has no right—”

“Lieutenant Garrison Travis, Company F, Texas Rangers. Temporarily on assignment in Austin.” He wanted to pop whatever lock was on that case, but he didn’t have anything with him. “I’m sorry that you can’t go home. They’ll be waiting there. They know who you are.”

“But I didn’t do anything.” She grabbed his upper arm. Her hand shook a bit. She was either shivering in her short sleeves or from the shock of everything that had happened.

“They don’t know that. Plus, you saw the killer.” He shrugged out of his split jacket and flipped it around her shoulders, holding it until she slipped her arms through the sleeves. “You’re coming home with me. It’s your only option.”

“Are you crazy? I don’t know you. Where’s your ID? Just take me to the nearest police station, and we can tell them what we saw.” She swung her leg over the back of the bike and took off. “They’ll protect me if I need it.”

“I can help you,” he called after her. “And that’s smart, asking for my ID. But I don’t carry it while I’m undercover.”

“You did help, and I thank you. But the police need to know what I witnessed. I’m sure I broke a law or something leaving the scene of a crime.” She backed up across the run-down parking lot in a short fancy skirt and his torn tux jacket. She might trip in her heels. “Why are you shaking your head at me?”

“Come on, get back on the bike.” He threw one of his best smiles at her, attempting to make his witness feel more comfortable. But she wasn’t reacting like the rest of the women in his life.

Maybe because she’d just seen two of her friends executed, and someone was trying to kill her. Maybe he should change tactics.

“No.”

“Well, I’ll need my jacket. It’s a rental.” Fortunately, he’d dropped the murder weapon in the cycle’s saddlebags, so it was safe. He dug his cell from his front pants pocket. “I’m going to dial a number, and you can confirm my identity. Then I’m taking you to my place.”

Garrison was afraid she’d break her neck running away from him if he got off the bike and chased her. He stayed put, got the number and pressed dial. He heard his captain answer, pressed speaker and told him, “Hang on.” Then he extended the phone to his witness.

For some crazy reason, she walked back to him and took the phone. “Hello?”

“This is Captain Aiden Oaks, Texas Rangers. Who is this? Why do you have Travis’s phone?”

She shrugged, searching him for answers. Garrison pointed to it and made a talk symbol with his hand.

“Someone handed it to me. Are you really a Texas Ranger? Is he?”

Garrison took the keys, opened the saddlebag, dropped the case inside and locked it. What was coming next would be pleasant for Kenderly, but not so much when Garrison confronted the captain.

“Is the smart-ass who handed you the cell riding a motorcycle, wearing a tuxedo and got a smart-alecky grin on his face?”

“I think so.”

“Lieutenant Garrison Travis didn’t have identification with him, miss. Did he call to assure you of something?”

She hung up and walked the phone back to him. “He says you have a smart-alecky smile. He’s right.”

“Ouch. I’ve been told this smile was reassuring. Ready to come home with me now?”

Kenderly had been through a sick ordeal and needed a lot more help than he could provide. The first step was getting her under the protection of the Rangers. And for that to happen, he had to find out exactly what she’d seen and what was in that case.

He braced the bike while she hopped on the back again. He moved his hand to bring her closer, then thought better of it, speaking over his shoulder. “You can trust me, Kenderly.”

“No more running red lights.”

“Not a prob.”

“And you promise that I’ll be safer with you than with the police?”

“You’ve got my word as a Texas Ranger. Nothing’ll happen to you while you’re with me.” He started the bike and rejoined traffic before she realized he was a complete stranger and decided to yell for help. She didn’t yell. She only cooperated.

Kenderly was too trusting. Or playing him.

Witness or perpetrator? He had a lightbulb moment of his own. He hadn’t seen the actual shooting. He couldn’t swear who pulled that trigger. The makeup artist could have unlocked the balcony doors and let the monkey-suit guy inside.

Maybe he was protecting an accomplice?

Not a chance. There was no blood spatter on her clothes. She couldn’t have been near the fatal shots. He’d find out all the details when they got to his house. Just a couple of minutes and they’d be safe.

The small jewelry box would have to wait until he was at his place. He needed to ask her about everything, but was certain Captain Oaks would want to be there for the questioning.

Turning down Forty-first, he replayed the scene in his head, searching through his memory for what the murderer looked like. Approximately the same height as him, so the guy had to be six-one, maybe more. Brown eyes, huge nose that protruded under the hood. He didn’t have much to go on, but the man’s shoes weren’t from a rental company like the tux.

Garrison had rented enough times to know how unforgiving a new pair of rental dress shoes were. Or how the older ones looked scuffed no matter how hard you shined. This guy was wearing his own.

He pulled to a stop in his driveway. Then he mentally brought up the image of the man in black. He’d turned to him—surprised someone had entered Mrs. Tenoreno’s bedroom—guilty.

Blood. Bright dark spots that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else shone all over the black tux. He was confident he’d interrupted the gunman before he pulled the trigger on a third victim. Kenderly was a state’s witness.

Kenderly was off the back of the bike before he’d cut the engine. He popped the kickstand, tugging her to him. He might be confident she wasn’t the murderer, but he wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t run down the street hollering for help.

“Mind if I take the jacket back?”

Delicately, treating the ripped tux like an expensive designer jacket, she folded it in half and handed it to him. He tossed open the saddlebag and removed the gun, wrapping it protectively in the jacket’s folds, then setting it on the bike seat along with the case. The evidence couldn’t be out of his line of sight, and this was the best he could do. He unlocked the detached garage and lifted the heavy door, then rolled his bike inside and reversed the procedure.

“I think I have a couple of sodas inside and maybe a frozen pizza.”

“I can’t possibly eat.” Her hand covered her lips.

“How about some soup, then? I got a cabinet of the stuff.”

“Really, I’m fine.” She shook her head and preceded him up the steps. “What I really need is a toothbrush.”

“Got you covered. My aunt has extras from visits with her dentist. She’s visiting my mom.” If he could remember where she’d put them.

“Oh.” She tugged at her hair, trying to smooth tangle upon wind-massacred tangle.

His Aunt Brenda’s house was on the small side. What most people might call cozy. Just right for one bachelor ranger who wasn’t home half the time. That is, if he really lived in Austin. He was on temporary assignment and shared a place in Waco. He opened the door and prepared for the assault.

“Hey, I forgot to ask. Do you like dogs?”

Both his monsters slid across the old linoleum, tongues out, ready to jump on their visitor, expecting a treat. Before he could yell at them to get down, Garrison set the coat-wrapped gun on the counter. He knelt at the pups’ level, taking one dog under either arm.

“I adore dogs. Are they Labs? What are their names? They’re so sweet.” Kenderly brightened and dropped to her knees with him.

“Diabolical is more like it. Don’t turn your back on them for a minute. This big black boy is Bear. The chocolate pup is his half sister, Clementine.” He reached up and pulled treats from a jar, handing them to his guest. “They’ll do tricks for these.”

She sat at the kitchen table, patiently petting the panting Labradors. “Clementine isn’t exactly what I’d call a puppy.”

“Sit, Clem. Bear, you know better than that.” He used hand signals to get them to sit, wanting to show them off. “She’s barely a year old. Already seventy pounds of love. I didn’t know how long I’d be here, and these two sort of go berserk if I don’t check in every day. Excuse me while I make a phone call.”

He dialed, then retrieved a new Ziploc from the cabinet while he waited for the captain to answer. “Travis? I guess the party blew to hell?”

“Yes, sir. So you’ve heard. The beautician, Kenderly Tyler, witnessed the whole thing. I stopped the murderer from blowing—” He darted a look at the woman he’d rescued to see if she’d heard his slip. “I stopped him from having a third victim. We came straight here. I didn’t think you’d want anyone to know we have her in custody.”

Kenderly got the dogs another treat and repeated his hand commands to them.

“You think she’s reliable?”

“As far as I can tell. I also have the murder weapon.” He placed the gun inside the bag. “It should take you about forty minutes to get here, sir. See you then.” He dropped his phone on the counter, and Clementine nudged the back of his knee. “Oh no, you don’t. Christy fed you an hour ago.”

“Where’s the bath, and do you have a first-aid kit?”

“You okay?” During the call, she’d taken a paper towel from the roll he left on the table and started dabbing at her legs. “Obviously not. Those from the trees we brushed through?”

“Yes. My legs started stinging on the golfing green.”

“Let me get something.”

The house really was super small. Keeping the medicine cabinet mirror open, he could still see the kitchen table. Bear was spread-eagle on the floor waiting for some more attention. Kenderly was staring at the gun and not moving. He dug through the antibiotic creams, looking for something without an expired date. No luck.

“I found some cotton, alcohol and peroxide. Best I can do.” He knelt and took a look at the long scratch at the top of her thigh.

“It’ll be fine.” Kenderly’s soft voice matched her dainty frame and manner.

“Need a belt to bite down on?”

She looked a bit confused. Instead of explaining, he poured the bottles over the scratches. Her tanned thigh used to be completely smooth, not even a freckle.

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