Dangerous Protector
Dangerous Protector is Book 2 in the
Federal Paranormal Unit. (Pssst! You should begin this awesome series
with Wolf Protector. Meet Trent, Erica and the gang and enjoy a #1
bestselling paranormal erotic suspense!)
So without further ado…*drum rolls
please*
Dangerous
Protector
Federal Paranormal Unit 2
My Review
Brock is the sexy sulking cop, Cynthia is the love that left him 10 years ago with no explanation. He is never allowed himself to love again holding on only to the love they once shared. Seeing her again ignites a fire in him that will not be denied.... not this time...I love this book it gives you more than scorching hot sex and swoon it gives you a mystery as well. Ms. Taiden does it again! so um, when does book three come out?
If
you run from love,
you're asking for a chase...
James
Brock lived the past ten years without the woman he loves. Using his
job as head of the Federal Paranormal Unit to help others, he's done
a good job of ignoring his lack of a personal life until she returns.
His salvation. His first love.
Cynthia
Vega had a very good reason to leave the only man she loved after
she'd accepted his marriage proposal. Now she's back as his boss. And
he's not willing to ignore their chemistry or the past.
Brock
is determined to claim his mate and prove that their passion is even
hotter than before. He wants her and her explanation behind their
separation. Except, some secrets won't stay buried in the past. Brock
will fight his demons to follow her lead, but Cynthia's reluctance to
explain their lost love may be the one key to their destruction...
Add Dangerous Protector to your GR
TBR Pile!
Excerpt
Dangerous Protector
© Milly Taiden, Latin Goddess
Press 2014
Sirens
blared. One after another the police cruisers and fire department
vehicles sped by in a rush. A honk sounded from behind James Brock’s
SUV. He glanced over his shoulder.
“This
moron is trying to cause an accident,” Tony Ramirez, one of the
Federal Paranormal Unit team members, yelled at the rearview mirror.
Brock
glanced over his shoulder. A black Sedan tailed close behind them.
Too close.
Ramirez
gripped the wheel so hard his tanned knuckles turned white. “I’m
already doing eighty.”
“Tony,
let them by.”
There
was something big going on. He curled his hands into fists in his
lap. He knew what it was. They all knew.
“Where
do you think they’re all going, Brock?” The concern in Jane
Donovan’s voice momentarily choked him. Her soft lilt reminded him
of his mother’s voice. At first appearance, you’d think Donovan
was a weak woman, but make her angry, and you’d have hell to pay.
Tension
turned palpable with its own heartbeat in the fast-moving SUV.
“I
can take a wild guess.”
They
made a sharp corner on a bend into a dirt road. The SUV skidded on
its wheels for a second. Everyone held on while they bounced in their
seats.
“Jesus
H. Christ, Ramirez! Can you not to get us killed before we get
there,” Donovan growled.
“Sorry,
cariño, but there is no time to be worried about your delightful ass
bouncing on the seat when we have to find a missing kid.”
“I
told you to stop calling me darling!”
“Ramirez…”
Brock sighed.
Their
constant bickering wasn’t unusual, so he ignored it and focused on
the scene ahead. Multiple police cars parked outside the house he’d
called the local PD on. The house he knew had the latest missing
person they had been searching for.
“Oh,
God!” Fear laced Donovan’s whisper.
They
were thinking the same thing. That whoever kidnapped little Kyler
Jones had killed her. That his request for the county to get to the
house in question had been too late. His gaze roamed the area through
the darkness of the early evening. Multitudes of tall willows
surrounded the large house set in the middle of nowhere. Perfect. If
he’d been looking for a place to do some of the things the person
in that house was known for, this was the right spot. There wasn’t
a body around for miles. Nobody to get help. Nobody to hear the
screams.
Ramirez
hadn’t fully stopped when Brock jumped out of the SUV, his feet
hitting the ground with a thump. Immediate perspiration gathered on
his upper lip. The humidity from August had brought intense heat.
Though it was closing in on nighttime, the air sizzled with the high
temperature from earlier.
He
ran for the SWAT van. Instinct told him they’d know more than the
local sheriff’s department. Radios beeped. Concern expanded in his
chest. Everyone seemed to want an update on the situation. He
recognized one of the FBI department heads—Martin Galvez—standing
off to the side of the SWAT van.
The
older man stopped mid-sentence to give him one of his degrading
piercing glares. “Brock. What are you doing here?” Command oozed
from his Latin accent.
Brock
glanced from Galvez to the other two lower ranked agents. Took both
men all of a second to move away. That allowed him and Galvez to
talk.
“This
is our case. We found Kyler Jones through intense searching of phone
records and—”
“Save
it,” Galvez cut him off. He turned away from Brock to study the
area.
“How
are you going to retrieve the child? Do we know if she’s alive?”
Brock tried to tamp down the surge of power dancing through his
veins. It wasn’t usually difficult to do. He’d mastered his
darkness. But Galvez had a tendency of pushing his anger. The older
man’s attitude lit a fire in his stomach.
Galvez
smirked. “We have a man who went in through the back.”
Gathered
men and women avidly stared at the house. Watching. Waiting. Brock
knew there were no guarantees of getting the child out alive. They
all knew that. It’s what made his job that much harder.
Power
swirled at his fingertips. He need only know what to do, and he could
end the entire thing in a matter of seconds. “Do you need me to—”
“What
I need, is for you to keep yourselves out of the way,” Galvez
ordered.
Anger
licked at his skin, growing at the speed of a derailed train. He shot
a glance at Galvez. For a split second, Galvez paled.
“I’d
watch how you talk to people, Galvez,” Brock said, no longer caring
that his voice sounded hard. Steely. Deadly.
An
explosion rocked the ground. He jerked his gaze to the house. Flames
consumed the structure. Screams and shouts filled the night. Men
moved in all directions toward the house, but gunfire blasted through
the shouts. Brock’s muscles tightened.
“Can
we do anything?” Donovan yelled over the sirens and shouts. She ran
a hand over her mussed up ponytail. Her fingers shook. He saw the
desperate need to help in her eyes. It went against her nature not
to.
Brock
shook his head. “We wait.”
The
thought of doing nothing didn’t appeal to him either. In fact, it
was hell to hold back and not run into the house and get the kid
himself. His power shoved outward. Pushing to get out. To take
control.
“Finally!”
Galvez sighed.
Brock’s
vision followed Galvez’s line of sight until he saw a woman running
out through the flames with a bundle covered in a dripping blanket.
Breaths
thundered in his ears. Everything narrowed until the only thing he
saw was her.
He couldn’t believe his eyes. Was his mind playing a trick on him?
After all these years? But no, it wasn’t a trick. She was soaking
wet as she ran from the burning house toward them. Paramedics
surrounded her and took the covered bundle from her arms. She was
gasping for air, coughing through the smoke she’d inhaled before
she finally glanced up and met his gaze.
He
didn’t know how long he’d been standing there, watching
everything like a spectator versus an active participant. The beast
inside him roared. After all the years they’d been apart, after
she’d left him for no apparent reason, she was back. He watched her
march toward him. Her dark gaze slid from him to Galvez.
In
the background, firemen fought the burning house. Sirens continued to
blare. Loud. Driving the point that chaos had ensued around them. But
he couldn’t find it in him to care. His sole focus was on the woman
he’d loved. Hard. The woman who’d left him.
Cynthia
Vega.
“Vega.”
Galvez’s tone was clipped. “What took you so long?”
Her
brows dipped low, eyes flashing. “Get over it. I got the child out
alive. That was my main concern. I did what was needed. If it took
all night…” She shrugged. “It would have taken all night.”
The
black T-shirt soaked and plastered to her brown skin, showing off the
curves Brock had always loved. Curves he’d kissed, licked, and bit
in the heat of passion.
Brock’s
hands itched to grab her. Power surged inside him. Dark. Deadly. It
swarmed his veins and expanded through his limbs in a wave of heat. A
haze of red clouded his vision.
Cynthia
met his gaze. Her perfectly arched brows rose. “Brock.”
He
took a deep breath. Inhaled the soft scent of Jasmine she loved to
wear. Fear seeped from her pores, mingling with the sweet Jasmine
scent. But this wasn’t the time or place to discuss their past.
“Vega.”
Pain
flashed through her eyes for a millisecond before she went back to
the detached professional. But he’d seen it. Knew that she’d
heard the anger in the way he’d softly growled her name. She folded
her arms over her chest. Defensive. He’d gotten to know each of her
quirks. This was her I’m-not-at-fault move.
“We
don’t need you here, Brock.” Galvez’s voice broke through the
tension between him and Cynthia.
He
eyed the older man. Saw the curious way he glanced back and forth
between them.
“As
you can see, we have it under control. You and your—” Galvez’s
gaze slid over Brock’s shoulder to where Donovan and Ramirez stood
behind him. “Team can go. The child’s safe.”
He
wanted to argue with Galvez, but it wasn’t his fault Cynthia had
messed with his concentration.
Cynthia
swallowed hard. Indecision skated her features. He gave her a slow
once-over before turning on his heel to face Donovan and Ramirez.
“Let’s go.”
“But—”
“The
child’s safe, Donovan. That’s what we came for.”
Confusion
sparked in the depths of her eyes. “Are you sure she’s okay?”
“I
wouldn’t leave otherwise.”
That
was the absolute truth. All his team members knew it. He’d never
leave a crime scene unless the victim was safe or— in a worst-case
scenario he was much too familiar with—dead. While his gift was
seen as a dark destructive force, he preferred to use it for the safe
return of those victims he could help find.
Donovan
gave a quick nod. He marched past her toward the SUV, leaving her and
Ramirez to follow.
“Relax,
babe. If he says the kid’s okay, then the kid’s okay,” Ramirez
whispered at Brock’s back.
“Will
you please stop calling me babe?” Donovan hissed.
“Brock!”
The sound of Cyn’s yell reached him just as he was about to hop
into the passenger side of his vehicle.
He
stopped. The frustration he was tamping down surged all over again.
She reached him a moment later, still panting from the run out of the
burning house.
“I
just want to say…thank you.” Her gaze dropped down to his mouth.
Lust bubbled up inside him. At her slow lick of her lips, he had to
grit his teeth to stop himself from hauling her to him. To taste her.
“I know your team found the child.” She met his gaze. Desire
sparkled in the depths of her hazel eyes. “I appreciate it.”
The
beast he never allowed control roared inside, demanding a taste of
her lips. Ah, those lips. She had the full luscious bow shaped lips
that he knew were soft, decadent, and fit perfectly against his. Her
lips, along with every abundant curve on her sexy body, had been his
downfall.
“You
don’t need to thank me. This is our job.”
“I
know I don’t need to thank you. But you and your team…” She
glanced over his shoulder into the SUV. Ramirez and Donovan were
actively studying them with interest. “You got her and called for
help before anything could happen. You saved this child.”
He
gripped the door handle. “No. We found her. You
saved her.”
“James…”
The
hairs on his arms rose. Something unlocked inside him. Her husky
voice, pitched with that sexy Latin accent, was like a punch to the
gut. It was low, so low over the still blaring sirens, over the
shouts from the firefighters, if he hadn't had enhanced hearing,
he’d never have heard it. None of that mattered. To hear her say his name so softly instantly brought back memories of another time,
another place. A time when they’d done much more than mere talking.
She shifted. His attention was drawn to her chest. The material of
her top plastered to her body, showing off her full breasts.
Ignore
it.
He
pushed the unwanted memories and feelings back. “You got the kid,
Vega. That’s what matters.”
Hurt
clouded her eyes. Should he care that she’d been hurt because he
called her by her last name? No. He couldn’t
care. She’d left him and never returned. Until now. Those emotions
weren’t part of him any longer.
“Brock—”
He
turned his back on her. He’d never done it before, but he did it
now. Dammit, he hadn’t expected it to be so hard. He hopped into
the SUV. Shut the door. And shut her out. Fuck. It filled his chest
with a dull pain to leave her there with that gratefulness shining in
her eyes. But he refused to glance out the window once he was in his
seat. Instead, he turned to Ramirez and saw the questions in his team
member’s eyes and ignored them.
“Let’s
get out of here.”
Cynthia
watched the red tail lights from the black SUV shrink with the
distance. Drops crawled down her arms. It was soothing to have the
coolness from the water beat away the heat from the summer. Plus,
just seeing James again really knocked her axis off center.
“Anything
you want to tell me?” The question came across as a demand for
information.
She
turned to the sound of Galvez’s voice. Short cropped, salt-pepper
hair, perfectly coiffed showed off his wrinkled forehead and deep-set
dark eyes. A thin mustache covered the pursed line of his lips. For
an older man, he wasn’t hard on the eyes. Well, not for women who
liked the know-it-all types, anyway. Unfortunately, for him, Cyn
wasn’t the least bit impressed by him.
“We’re
on a need to know basis here, Galvez.” She wrung the water out of
her ponytail and headed for her car.
“Obviously
there’s something I need to know about the relationship between you
and Brock.” He barked the words over the shouts, following her
toward her black, rusty Camry.
She
stopped, whirled in place, and shook her head. Was the man growing
delusional with his position? “Hang on a second here. You
recruited me.
You
requested my
expertise for the team. You
wanted me
to help lead the FPU. My past with Brock or anyone else has no
bearing on my ability to do the job.”
“You
know you’ll be working close to him.”
“And?”
Anger simmered inside her.
Galvez’s
nostrils flared. Disgust lit his eyes. Figures. He had never been the
type for warm and cuddly conversations. And the last thing Cynthia
expected was for him to encourage employee relationships. “He isn’t
normal. He’s… He’s—”
“I
know exactly what he is. If I were you, I’d be very careful what
you say about him.” She snapped her mouth shut to keep from adding
anything that could, and would get her fired. Dammit, she’d just
started the job.
She
yanked on the handle to her car. The metal creaked as it opened.
Galvez placed a hand on the top of the door, stopping her from moving
it further.
“Look,
Cici—”
“Don’t!”
She hissed. “Only my family calls me that. You’re my superior.
Don’t get it confused. My accepting your job offer doesn’t make
us friends. It doesn’t make us buddies. It just makes me your
employee.”
“I’d
like to think of us as more than just employer-employee. Possibly
move things to where they should be between us.” His facial lines
smoothed out. There was concern in his eyes for a flash of a second.
Then an iciness entered his gaze as she shook her head.
“I
don’t think so. All we’ll ever be is co-workers. Don’t confuse
yourself.” She met Galvez’s stare with her own angry glare. He
should know by now that intimidation wouldn’t work on her. Being
raised by her grandmother, because her father had been missing in
action, had toughened her up. Especially when her mother was more
trouble than she wanted to think about. When her family’s reality
finally hit her, some hard choices had to be made. And the result had
been losing the only man she’d loved.
Galvez’s
brow puckered. “If you can’t handle working with Brock, for
whatever reason, just tell me. I won’t hold it against you.”
Yeah,
she just bet he wouldn’t. He’d recruited her as a test. To see
her fail. She knew what he was after, but she wouldn’t give it to
him. He’d come to her. Right now, she had the upper hand. An upper
hand she wasn’t willing to lose.
Her
gaze strayed past Galvez to the ambulance where the child was taken.
A paramedic shut the doors. It took off, sirens wailing. The
thickness she’d felt growing at her throat expanded. Fuck. She had
to hold it together or Galvez would see her as nothing more than a
weakling.
“What
happened to the suspect?”
His
question brought her attention to his face.
“When
I entered the house from the back, he was in the kitchen.” She
gulped at the memory of the man, of what he’d been doing.
“And?”
She
ground her teeth. “And he was sharpening some large butcher knives,
happily singing a song about making stew. Kyler stew. There. Are you
happy?”
Galvez’s
unwavering gaze was stuck on her face. She tried not to flinch,
knowing that any sign of discomfort would be seen as a weakness. She
inhaled slowly, mentally preparing herself for the torture of
reviewing what just happened.
“He’d
already started a fire in the kitchen. Stood there sharpening those
knives. All the while, the flames spread through the place.” Her
stomach clenched. Oxygen had frozen in her lungs when she’d seen
the man light himself on fire when he’d seen her. “He walked to
the blaze taking up one side of the kitchen. And just stood there.
Burning.”
She
still had a hard time believing what she’d seen. The maniac had
continued to sing while he burned. That song. She’d have a hard
time sleeping remembering the stupid song. It had made cold fingers
of dread crawl up her spine.
“And
the kid?”
She
took a breath. Let it out slowly. “She was tied up to a tub filled
with water. The entire house started to collapse around me. By the
time I reached her most of it was on fire.” She gripped the door
handle. Although it bothered her to have to go through what just
happened, she knew it was procedure. Plus, she’d have to write it
out on her report anyway. “I ran to the other room, grabbed a
blanket, cut her binds, wet myself, shoved the blanket into the tub,
wrapped it around her and got her out.” She swallowed hard against
the dryness in her throat. “End of story.”
Thoughts
kept whirling around her mind of all the possible things she could
have found in that house. None of them good. She needed to go home.
Right now. She was too raw. The throbbing in her chest, since she’d
first laid eyes on the child, hadn’t dissipated yet. Too many
emotions were clogging up her throat. Seeing that little girl tied up
was like getting stabbed in the gut. Absolute hell. Kyler’s pale
green eyes had been filled with fear. Watching the drenched
six-year-old shaking, her lips turning purple from the icy water
almost broke her. Jesus. But this was her job. She was damn good at
it and no amount of stress on a case—or her pathetic excuse of a
personal life—was going to make her give it up.
“Are
you sure you’ll be fine working with Brock and his team?” Galvez
asked. There was annoyance in the way he asked the question. Not
concern. Never concern. That simply added to her rising temper.
She
was tired. Tired of having to be the responsible one in her family.
Of giving up everything she’d ever wanted. And she was especially
tired of Galvez and his condescension. “Did you want me to promise
that in blood or something?” His dark skin turned mottled with
anger. Too bad. “I already said I’m fine. Now let me go home and
let me do my job. I can handle Brock. And his team.”
Galvez
stepped away, giving her space to slide into the car. He continued to
watch her. Her muscles felt tight from the tension of the past hour.
The engine’s roar was music to her ears. Galvez dropped down to eye
level. Fuck. She thought he was done.
“I
won’t have you or him messing with the plans I have in the Bureau.”
She
bit the inside of her cheek hard, until she swore she tasted blood.
Then she counted to ten before finally answering him.
“I
know what it is you want.” She’d been informed he was gunning for
a high-ranking position. “I don’t really care about it. That’s
your problem.” She gripped the wheel, staring into his angry dark
gaze. “But I think you should know, that you won’t ever be
allowed to lead the FPU. It’s why they made you hire me.” She
smiled coldly. “You see, you need to be paranormal to lead that
team. It’s why I’m reporting to the head of the Bureau directly.”
“I
don’t care what you think
you know. I want to make sure that you are able to handle this. I’ll
have the group reporting to me at some point,” he growled.
She
shook her head. “No. You won’t. I know you’ve tried. You can’t
lead a special team.” She shifted gears, put the car in reverse,
and hit the accelerator. Tires squealed. Galvez rushed off in order
to not be run over. She stopped, turned the wheel and put it in
drive. “You know why you can’t lead a special team, Galvez?”
He
stood there motionless. Watching her. His face clear of all emotions
but the usual anger she’d come to know well.
“Because
you’re not special.”
Author Bio
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Hi!
I'm Milly (AKA April Angel) I love to write sexy stories. They're
usually either paranormal or contemporary with a large dose of heat.
My paranormal stories can be anything from wolf-shifters (my
favorites) to witches, demons and anything in between. I was born the
prettiest part of the Caribbean known as the Dominican Republic.
Currently, I live in New York City with my hubby, the bossy kiddo and
our little dog "Needy Speedy". Don't ask.
When
I'm not working some really long hours at the day job, or hanging out
in the awful life-sucking invention known as Facebook, messaging my
bestie in the UK or shopping with my sis Julie, then I can be found
watching scary movies. Buuut when I'm not doing that, I'm usually
writing because the voices won't shut up.
I
am addicted to shoe shopping, chocolate (but who isn't, right?) and
Dunkin' Donuts coffee.
Come
by and visit me! I love to meet new readers!
Website:
millytaiden.com
Facebook: facebook.com/millytaidenpage
New York Times & USA Today Bestselling author. I find it hard to sum up my life in a paragraph, but I'll try.
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