Table Of Content“I can’t go to your apartment,” Christy
said. “I’ll get a hotel room.”
“The hell you will. There’s somebody out there who’s after you. If he can
get to you here, he can get to you in a hotel. No. You’re coming to my
apartment.”
“And why can’t he get to me at your apartment?”
“Besides the fact that there’s a security guard on duty 24/7? And it’s on the
eighth floor? Because I’ll be there.”
“No.” She shook her head. “I can’t.”
“I don’t see why not. Get packed.”
“Because—” She stopped. She couldn’t tell him why she didn’t want to stay
with him. She wasn’t sure she could explain it to herself. She’d like to think it
was because he was overprotective, bossy.
But that wasn’t it.
She could get used to having a knight in shining armor around.
MALLORY KANE
THE PEDIATRICIAN’S PERSONAL
PROTECTOR
To Daddy, my hero and my biggest fan.
I know you and Mama are dancing.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Mallory has two very good reasons for loving reading and writing. Her
mother was a librarian, who taught her to love and respect books as a precious
resource. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories.
He was always her biggest fan.
Mallory loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless
heroines, and enjoys tossing in a bit of her medical knowledge for an extra dose
of intrigue. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her computer-genius husband and
three exceptionally intelligent cats.
She enjoys hearing from readers. You can write her at
Books by Mallory Kane
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
927—COVERT MAKEOVER
965—SIX-GUN INVESTIGATION
992—JUROR NO. 7
1021—A FATHER’S SACRIFICE
1037—SILENT GUARDIAN
1069—THE HEART OF BRODY MCQUADE
1086—SOLVING THE MYSTERIOUS STRANGER
1103—HIGH SCHOOL REUNION
1158—HIS BEST FRIEND’S BABY†
1162—THE SHARPSHOOTER’S SECRET SON†
1168—THE COLONEL’S WIDOW?†
1180—CLASSIFIED COWBOY
1203—HER BODYGUARD
1237—DOUBLE-EDGED DETECTIVE*
1243—THE PEDIATRICIAN’S PERSONAL PROTECTOR*
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Reilly Delancey—A top SWAT sniper and hostage negotiator, Reilly has a
knack for getting at the truth.
Christy Moser—Christy longs to confide in police officer Reilly Delancey,
but he wears a badge. And she believes the police are responsible for taking
away everyone she loved.
Ryker Delancey—Reilly needs his twin brother to give him vital
information about his fellow detectives. But when the chips are down, will his
brother’s loyalty to the badge prove stronger than blood?
Charles Phillips—The veteran detective is overweight and lumbering, but
has never had a black mark on his record and he’s close to retirement. There’s no
way he’d jeopardize his pension, right?
Ted Dagewood—The big, good-looking police detective is obnoxious and
arrogant, and he’s been known to rough up a suspect to get what he wants. But
he’s a good cop, isn’t he?
Bill Crenshaw—Reilly’s brother, Ryker’s, friend and fellow detective may
have a confidential informant whose fingerprints are on the gun that killed
Christy’s sister. But Ryker swears his friend isn’t involved.
Contents
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 One
Reilly Delancey was late. He hurried up the steps of the St. Tammany
Parish courthouse, through the metal detectors and into the large central hall,
fingering the knot of his tie and wishing he hadn’t tied it so tightly.
He spoke to a couple of fellow officers who were waiting to testify in other
cases. They had the same resigned expression on their faces that he was sure was
on his.
A quick glance at the courtroom schedule told him that the McGilicutty
case, in which he was testifying as the lead hostage negotiator, was in Courtroom
Three. He rushed to the door, only to be stopped by the assistant district attorney
who’d prepped him.
“Judge Simmons just got here,” Hale Dunham told him. “It’ll be at least
twenty minutes before we need you.”
“Simmons is hearing the case? It’ll be thirty. I’ll get a cup of coffee.”
“Be back in fifteen,” Hale warned.
“Eighteen,” he countered and headed toward the small kiosk on the far side
of the hall. If Simmons had just entered the courtroom, it would be ten minutes
before he finished straightening his robes and arranging his gavel and pens. Then
another twenty before the preliminaries were over. Simmons questioned
everything.
He ordered and paid for his coffee and dumped sugar into it, then stood
sipping it as he glanced around at the hubbub in the courthouse.
Two detectives walked by. Dagewood and Phillips. He didn’t remember
their first names. They worked with his twin brother, Detective Ryker Delancey.
Phillips was loud and overweight, but basically he seemed like a good guy.
Dagewood, on the other hand, was arrogant and rude.
As if to prove Reilly’s opinion, Dagewood stopped in front of him. “Well,”
he said. “If it’s not the Delancey that didn’t make detective.”
Reilly bit his tongue. Somehow, Dagewood had figured out how badly
Reilly had coveted the position Ryker had gotten, and he mentioned it every
chance he got.
“Dagewood,” Reilly responded noncommittally, taking his own shot. The
big detective liked the uniformed officers to address him by his title, so Reilly
never did.
“So what’s up today?” Dagewood continued. “Defending a traffic ticket?”
Phillips chuckled at the old joke.
Reilly sipped his coffee and didn’t answer.
“Come on, Ted,” Phillips said. “I didn’t get any breakfast. By the time we
get back to the office, all the doughnuts’ll be gone.”
“Hang on,” Dagewood said. “I haven’t tried the coffee here. If it’s good
enough for Delancey…”
Phillips laughed again and the two stood in line.
Reilly ignored them as his gaze slid over the crowd. He half expected to see
Ryker. His brother was here for the sentencing hearing of the man who’d killed
four women in St. Tammany Parish over the past five years.
Reilly and Ryker didn’t normally see each other a lot these days. They ran
in different circles since Ryker was a detective and Reilly was SWAT. But Reilly
had babysat his brother’s injured star witness a few weeks ago while Ryker was
booking the killer. She wasn’t just his star witness either. Since two weeks ago,
she was his fiancée.
Ryker engaged. Reilly shook his head. Hard to believe. Before his older
brother—older by seven minutes—had met Nicole Beckham, he’d never even
dated anyone seriously.
As his thoughts wandered and his coffee cooled, his gaze settled on what
just might be the most striking woman he’d ever seen. She was tall and slender,
with midnight-black hair that fell to her shoulders and a confident walk that had
more eyes than his following her.
As soon as he realized that most of the males in the central hall were
watching her, it became obvious that she wasn’t paying attention to any of them.
She was headed straight for him.
Or more likely, for the coffee kiosk.
Whatever she had her eyes on, Reilly would bet a month’s pay that she’d
get it. She was the confident, super-cool type who got whatever she wanted. He
swallowed a chuckle as he watched her mow down the men in her path with a
glare. Her high heels clicked with purpose on the marble floor.
He couldn’t tell where she was looking behind the narrow, black-rimmed
glasses she wore, but he managed to resist the urge to glance behind him. He
kept his gaze on her face. He was dying to know if her eyes were as black as her
hair and her glasses frames. He got his answer when she stopped directly in front
of him.
They weren’t black. They were green. And flashing with irritation. At him.
At him?
“Detective Delancey,” she said, propping a hand on her hip.
Reilly shook his head and muttered his automatic response. “No, I’m not
—”
