Iron Cop

by Sally Booth

Overview

Upstate New York Society wife Samantha Chadwick Thorne barely has time to process her husband’s murder—and the threat to her own life—before she’s forced on the run. Dodging bullets and taking orders from an arrogant detective, who dislikes her on sight, is her version of hell on Earth. Why does she need a bodyguard, anyway? She has a secret weapon that will keep her alive—one that she can’ t even reveal to the infuriating, sexy cop.

Detective Nick O’Reilly’s job is to keep the star witness—a gorgeous but snobby socialite—alive to testify against the killer, even though he sometimes feels like throttling her himself. He’s drawn to her, but the unwanted sparks she sets off are cooled by the suspicion she might be involved in her husband’s death.

The trust and attraction between them grows day by day. One problem—they have to outwit killers who are always one step ahead in order to give their love a chance.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781509221578
Publisher:	The Wild Rose Press
Publication date:	07/24/2018
Pages:	260
Product dimensions:	5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.55(d)

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

One Month Later

Nick O'Reilly stood in the middle of Captain Bianco's office trying to remember if he had ever been this frustrated. "Captain, I'm a detective not a bodyguard."

"I need my best man to guard this witness. She is the only one who can provide the information we need in court to put Chico Vargas in the Clinton Correctional Facility for the rest of his life."

"Don't we have people trained to protect witnesses?" Nick argued.

"Yes, we do. But they aren't you."

"What about the murder case Mike and I are working on? We almost have it wrapped up."

"We've assigned a temporary partner to work with Mike."

Nick sighed. He knew the captain well enough to know his mind was set, and the Almighty Himself would not be changing his mind. "You're the boss, Captain. What do I need to know?"

"Here's the file." He handed a thick folder to Nick and pointed to it, "Everything you need to know is in there. Lock yourself away someplace and read it."

Bodyguard. Hell! He had worked hard to earn the rank of detective. Nick glared at his mentor and captain. "You really want me for this job?"

"It's an order, son, and it begins ASAP."

That did it. He knew the captain had set him on a mission he hated but knew Nick would do the job and protect this witness to the best of his ability.

Crossing county lines a few minutes later, Nick sat in his car in Albany's Washington Park where he would not be disturbed. He opened the cover. "Wow." Staring back at him was a picture of this gorgeous curly haired strawberry blonde with deep emerald green eyes. What a hottie. Sure, he would do his best to protect this one. Can't let anything happen to a young lady who looks this good. Twenty-seven. Just the right age, too. Hot Miranda rights!

He read further and cursed. Samantha Chadwick-Thorne. A high society dame. Just what he didn't need. He had vowed to never have anything to do with "high society" anything after literally being left at the church altar by one such ... Damnation.

Still sputtering and wanting to get to the meat of the case, Nick turned the page to see why he had to protect this beauty. He read muttering out loud as he went. "She was sleeping. Heard something. Got up. Rushed out of bedroom. Heard shots. Victim screaming. Hmm. Torturing victim. Shooting him in knees, arms and heart. Vargas and sidekick spot the wife. Shoot her in the arm. Wow. She got shot. She escapes. Passageway. Attempt is made on her life at two safe houses."

"What?" Nick read, "An attempt is made on Mrs. Thorne's life at the first safe house ten days after arrival." Nick skipped the location and read on. "An unknown person or persons stepped up to her bedroom window at two a.m., broke the window with the gun and fired a shot toward the bed. The witness was in the bathroom at the time. Searched for the perp but never apprehended."

"I'll be damned." Wonder how they knew where to find her? He turned to the next page. Second safe house twelve days later. "Man disguised as police officer. Walked into safe house claiming orders to change witness location. ID recognized as fake by guard. Attempted kidnapping failed." He skipped over the officer's name and rank. "Perp shot and killed by officer. Known Vargas man. Witness moved to third safe house.

"What the hell?" How did he get a uniform? How did they know where to find her? Questions kept twirling around inside his head. The one that bothered him the most — could there be a mole in the department? It had been seven days since the last attempt. He now understood why the captain chose him to protect her and why he wanted it done ASAP. He would succeed at this job or die trying.

* * *

A witness to murder?

Samantha Chadwick-Thorne?

How in the world had she ever gotten herself into such a mess? She sat on the uncomfortable bed, her face buried in her hands. Mother would have a massive coronary if she knew that her daughter, a Chadwick from one of the oldest families in upstate New York, was now living in a safe house under police protection.

Samantha uncovered her eyes to stare out the bedroom window. After what she had been through this past September, fall would never be her favorite time of the year again.

A hard knock on the door made her heart race. A wave of uneasiness flowed over her. Who could it be?

"Mrs. Thorne?"

Samantha stared at the door. "Who-who is it?" How she hated being afraid. It made her stutter and act like an abused dog. She rose from the bed.

"Detective Nick O'Reilly. Homicide. Kirkland Police Department."

"How do I know you are a real detective?"

She heard him mumble something to Dave, the policeman, guarding her door.

"It's okay. He's legit," the officer yelled. Relief flooded through her. Samantha's knees wobbled, and she grabbed onto the stuffed chair next to her. Right now, she couldn't be more grateful for Dave.

The door opened.

Detective O'Reilly stood well over six feet, making her crane her neck to look him in the eyes, which were covered with dark thin- rimmed mirrored glasses. A lock of his coffee colored hair rested on his forehead. His broad shoulders, twice the size of hers, stretched the seams of his black leather jacket and T-shirt. As tight and old as they were, he looked comfortable in his faded black jeans and well-worn boots. All he needed was a motorcycle and a helmet inscribed with the word, Perfection.

Definitely the type of man her mother had always ordered her to avoid. Mother could rest easy. She wasn't interested. Yet, he caused something to stir in her.

"Relax." Detective O'Reilly entered the room. "I'm your new babysitter."

The depth of his voice made butterflies flutter in her stomach, then, scatter in all directions. What did this man have to make her react this way? This had never happened to her before.

"Thank you just the same, Detective, but this nice gentleman is all I need." She smiled at the man standing behind Detective O'Reilly.

"My orders change things." O'Reilly's jaw muscles jumped.

"What, may I ask, would your orders be, Detective?"

"To keep you alive."

Samantha covered her mouth. Did he have to be so blunt?

O'Reilly turned to Dave, "I'll take it from here. You're to report to Captain Bianco."

"Will do."

Samantha overcame the shock of Detective O'Reilly's words in time to say, "Thank you, Officer Dave. You've been wonderful." She wanted to give him a hug for his many kindnesses to her, but she clung to the chair to keep her legs from folding beneath her.

He turned to leave. "It's been my pleasure. Be safe, Mrs. Thorne."

Without a word, Detective O'Reilly removed his glasses, then wandered around the room. He checked under and around the single bed and other skimpy furniture. He opened the closet door. Using both hands, he felt around the doorframe and the bar holding her clothes. He stepped back and closed the door. Then he stopped his hunt long enough to glance at her over his shoulder before continuing.

"What in the world are you searching for?"

His eyes were the color of a dark yummy chocolate bar. What was she thinking? She couldn't remember having such thoughts about her husband's eyes.

"Just checking."

The thoroughness of the man pleased her. Even this safe house warranted his scrutiny. Would he be the one to protect her from Chico Vargas? She shook away the thought. Trust no one. That's what life had taught her. She must not forget it.

"The room's clean. Sit." He motioned to the chair. "We need to talk." He tucked his glasses in his T-shirt pocket.

Did he think her a dog? She whipped around and moved toward the window.

"Suit yourself, but you make a great target over there."

Samantha hadn't thought about that and quickly stepped away from the window, never removing her gaze from Detective O'Reilly. He slouched down in the only stuffed chair in the room and drew out a weathered black notebook from his hip pocket. When he pulled the left side of his jacket open revealing his weapon, the horror of that night four weeks ago came rushing back. With a quick intake of breath, she stepped back against the wall.

A gun had killed her husband.

The same one almost killed her.

Fear overcame her every time she thought of the night Edward died. Her heart beat rapidly and perspiration broke out on her forehead. She gave herself a mental shake and willed herself not to fall apart in front of this man. The detective was a policeman. At least his gun should be friendly.

Or was it?

* * *

Nick took his time settling in the chair in hopes that Mrs. Chadwick- Thorne would plunk her well-shaped rear down, too. His captain pegged it correctly. She was a looker. The picture in her file should be tossed. Her strawberry blonde ringlets bounced and recoiled like little springs when she moved. She couldn't be more than five-two and her eyes were the most beautiful deep emerald green he'd ever seen. They'd been like a sucker punch in the gut the first time he looked into them.

Forget it man. You don't need to go down that road again.

Nick stood and offered her the soft chair. He opened his notebook and clicked his pen.

"Just have a seat." He pointed to the chair he vacated. Nick's style didn't include begging. He felt uncomfortable getting this woman to talk to him. Her jumping at every sound or sudden movement and the constant entwining of her hands bothered him. No woman should be this scared.

What I wouldn't give for a cigarette right now.

Instead, he pulled a miniature Tootsie Roll from his pocket and offered it to her. She shook her head. "Suit yourself." He took the paper off and popped the candy in his mouth. He chewed and waited for her to speak. After several minutes, she moved to the chair and sat on the edge.

She fidgeted with a button on her stark white blouse. Silk, no doubt, he thought. The navy pants she wore looked like they had been tailor- made by some fancy designer. Nick blocked the bad memories to concentrate on his notebook and give her a moment to relax.

"I've got a few questions."

Samantha straightened her back and looked him in the eyes. "I've told the whole thing over and over again to various police officials. Just read the reports I've already given."

That's my girl. Be strong. He'd rather have her sassing him than scared silly. He felt like a heel, but he needed to hear the details from her. That's the way he did things — the way he got a real feel for a case.

Nick shrugged his shoulder. "You didn't tell me, Mrs. Thorne," he replied in a quiet tone. "Neither of us has a choice. My boss made me your baby-sitter until you testify. My orders are to make sure you keep breathing." His gaze locked with hers. "And I always do my job," he finished in a tone that left no doubt.

Samantha leaned back against the chair but avoided his eyes. "This is my third safe house. Ha. Safe house. What a joke. That awful man's men tried to kill me in the first one, and to kidnap me from the second. Now you think you can protect me? What makes you think you'd succeed?"

Nick crossed his arms over his chest and stared at her. "Because ... I know my job." He remained silent until she looked at him. "And I'm good at what I do."

"You're so confident, Detective O'Reilly."

"Yep, I am."

Those eyes. Jumping jacks in his mid-section told him he wasn't immune to her. Lust and key witness didn't belong in the same thought. Not on this job. Not in this lifetime. He leaned over, and then placed a hand on each arm of her chair and looked her in the eyes. Giant error he knew, but he did it anyway.

"You'll be safe with me. That's a promise."

"I haven't been since —"

"You will be now," he said in a no-nonsense tone. He studied her a moment. The doubtful look in her eyes spoke louder than words. In her position, he wouldn't either. Two attempts on her life in official safe places would scare the pants off even the bravest witness. The fact that she was trembling in her expensive designer shoes didn't escape him. She covered it well. Her ritzy boarding school control training must be kicking in. Good! She'd need it.

Nick pushed away from her to grab a nearby wooden chair and straddled it. "What happened that night?"

After several tense moments of him staring at her very pale face, he was relieved when she took a deep breath and let it out. She stared at the wall and appeared to have put herself somewhere else. Maybe back in time to that night. He cursed himself for putting her through this again. He didn't abuse women. Why was he making her do this? Then she began to speak in a well-rehearsed monotone, what he knew to be her worst nightmare.

"I was awakened by loud voices about one o'clock in the morning." She stopped. Looked at Nick. Tears filled her eyes. Her hands trembled. "I'll n-never forget the t-terror I heard in Edward's voice. He was pleading for his life." A tear dropped down her cheek.

"Take it easy, Mrs. Thorne. I know this is hard on you." He gave her a tissue from the dresser. He reached in his pocket. "Want a drink? Candy?"

"No. I just want this whole thing to be over."

He wanted to tell her everything would be all right, but he knew otherwise. The next two weeks before the trial started weren't going to be easy for either of them.

"Give yourself a break. You've been through a hell of a trauma." She closed her eyes and turned away. He could see her struggle to keep her tears contained. What a bastard he was to make her live through this horror one more time. He felt her pain, and it ripped him apart. Emotions had no place in this job he reminded himself.

"Tell me about the man who shot at you."

Mrs. Thorne rubbed the side of her face with her open hand. "The foyer light was on. I don't know how he missed me the first time. For a brief moment, I found myself staring into the coldest, meanest eyes I had ever seen." Her body shook with a huge shiver. "I can't get the sight of those eyes out of my head."

"They'll fade with time," he hoped, trying to calm her. He doubted they ever would. "The report says you were injured?"

"Just a scratch." She rubbed a spot on her left shoulder. "It's a constant reminder of ..."

Nick watched the memory ricochet through her mind. A bone-jarring shudder rocked her once again. She hugged herself. Nick started to remove his jacket.

She shook her head. "No. I'm okay."

"You sure there's nothing I can get you?"

"Thanks, but no." Still hugging herself, she continued, "He s-shot me. I s-screamed. Then both men hurried toward the stairs. That's when I realized they were coming after me. And I'd better get away or I would be ... dead, too. I ran into my bedroom and locked the door."

"Smart move. It gave you the time you needed to escape through the hidden stairway."

"Yes. I ran into the bathroom and grabbed a towel to wrap around my arm. I rushed into my walk-in closet seconds before the killers started pounding on my bedroom door. I heard a shot as I shut the door to the passageway. I always kept a flashlight there and used it to find my way to the underground root cellar at the back of our property. I called the police from a neighbor's house. You know the rest." With tears forming in her eyes, she stiffened her back. "Edward had no knowledge of the hidden stairway that led from his study. If he had, he might be alive today." Samantha looked away, biting her lip.

Nick would bet his Tootsie Rolls Edward's chances to escape were zero. He didn't want her to suffer any more than necessary, but he had a job to do. What she told him might save her life again someday. "So, this is your family home, which is why your husband had no knowledge of the passageways?"

She nodded. "They were my secret for years."

"Did your parents know about them?"

"They thought my grandfather had sealed all entrances years ago." Her lips curved in a slight smile. "Gramps took me on an underground tour, that's what he called it, on my eighth birthday. He told me fleeing slaves had passed through those hidden walls to their freedom years ago. He also added, 'We'll keep them a secret from your mom and pop cause you, my sweet child, might need to do a little escaping yourself someday.'"

"Your gramps was right." Nick made a note on his pad. "I've got to admire your courage. Not many society gals have your backbone."

"Thank you, I think." She was quiet for a moment. "I love my house, passageways and all."

"The house must be real old."

She nodded. "It was built around eighteen fifty."

Talking about her home made her face light up. Enchanting is the only word he could think of to describe her at that moment. He wished he could feel the same about his childhood home.

"That's quite a history."

"One of which I'm extremely proud." Samantha leaned forward. "May I please stand up now?"

"Sure."

Nick unfolded himself from the chair and stepped aside. Before he could help her, she stood and hurried toward the window. He stuck his notebook and pen in his inside jacket pocket, lifted the chair and set it back where he found it. He turned toward her and saw a flash outside the window.

He flew at her.

(Continues…)

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Excerpted from "Iron Cop"
by .
Copyright © 2018 Sally Louise Booth.
Excerpted by permission of The Wild Rose Press, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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