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Private Security

Cover of Private Security

Private Security

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Security specialist John Dawson thought his latest investigation into a building's collapse would be an open-and-shut case...until he met Juliana Caprese. Juliana's suspicions about what really happened that fateful day forced John to take a closer look at all the suspects. Starting with his notorious family. But before he could dig too deep, John found himself dodging bullets to protect the incredibly determined--and strikingly beautiful--Juliana. Obviously they were on the right path, but the idea of losing his rookie "partner" proved their relationship was becoming more personal than professional. Now, this unknown enemy didn't scare him half as much as how Juliana would react when she found out who he really was....


Security specialist John Dawson thought his latest investigation into a building's collapse would be an open-and-shut case...until he met Juliana Caprese. Juliana's suspicions about what really happened that fateful day forced John to take a closer look at all the suspects. Starting with his notorious family. But before he could dig too deep, John found himself dodging bullets to protect the incredibly determined--and strikingly beautiful--Juliana. Obviously they were on the right path, but the idea of losing his rookie "partner" proved their relationship was becoming more personal than professional. Now, this unknown enemy didn't scare him half as much as how Juliana would react when she found out who he really was....
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    By the time the woman struggled out of the taxi, Dawson knew the color of her panties. They were pink.

    He swallowed hard and lifted the binoculars to the blue sling that cradled her left arm and hindered her movements. What had happened to her? Three days ago on Monday, when he'd finally spotted her checking the post office box, she'd been fine.

    She awkwardly tugged her skirt down, and he lowered the glasses. He hadn't had time to stare at her on Monday. Now he checked out the whole package.

    Tall, lithe, knockout legs and finger-tangling black hair. When she bent to pull out three plastic grocery bags, he raised the glasses again. He adjusted the focus for an excellent view of her excellent backside.

    Then he noticed something at her waist. Something that glinted in the afternoon sunlight. He adjusted the focus. Under the trim jacket she wore, tucked into her skirt, was a handgun. She was carrying.

    "Damn," he muttered. Juliana Caprese was a dealer at the Black Jack Casino in Biloxi. What the hell was she doing with a gun? His gaze lit on the blue sling again. Maybe it had something to do with how she'd injured her arm.

    He shrugged and laid the binoculars on the passenger seat beside him. Only one way to find out. He got out of the car and sauntered down the sidewalk, timing his approach so that he'd be in her way when she headed for the stairs to her apartment building.

    She hooked all three grocery bags over her right wrist and dug into her jacket pocket. The bags swung back and forth, and even from his distance, Dawson could see the way the plastic handles bit into the skin of her forearm. She wasn't going to make it without dropping something. He sped up slightly.

    Juliana Caprese grimaced as the plastic bags dug into her flesh. She fumbled for the bills she'd stuck in her pocket to give the taxi driver. With her left arm out of commission, even the smallest task was a pain. She finally snagged the bills with two fingers and tugged. As she did, she felt one of the plastic straps tear. Her arm jerked as the strap broke and a bag hit the sidewalk. She heard the unmistakable crunch of eggshells breaking.

    "Damn it!" she snapped, glaring at the taxi driver, but her effort was wasted. He lounged complacently behind the wheel talking on his microphone in a language she couldn't place.

    Before she could lift her right arm to hand the lazy thug his fare, a man stepped right in front of her.

    Startled, her instinctive reaction was to run. The last time someone had taken her by surprise she'd ended up with a bruised face, a banged-up knee and a dislocated shoulder.

    But there was nowhere for her to go. She was blocked in by the taxi, the man and the spilled groceries.

    Then she saw what the man was doing. He thrust two twenties into the driver's face. "I've got your cab number," he said mildly. "Your boss will hear about your lazy butt."

    The driver muttered something in a foreign language and sped away.

    Juliana crouched to pick up her bag of broken eggs. The man crouched at the same time.

    "I got it," he said.

    She held out the crumpled bills. "Here."

    But he snagged the bag and stood, leaving her at eye level with the front of his jeans.

    Oh, boy, she thought, her mouth going dry. The sight of leanly muscled thighs straining against worn denim took her breath away. For an instant, she just stared.

    "Need help?" he asked, a definite hint of amusement in his voice. He held out his hand.

    She ignored it and rose, wincing when her knee threatened to buckle. "Take...

About the Author-
  • Mallory Kane has 2 great reasons for loving to write. Her mother, a librarian, taught her to love and respect books. Her father could hold listeners spellbound for hours with his stories. His oral histories are chronicled in numerous places including the Library of Congress Veterans' History Project. He was always her biggest fan.


    She has published 26 books for Harlequin Intrigue. She lives in Tennessee with her Renaissance husband and two very smart cats.

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