Her Irresistible Protector. Michelle Douglas

herself to complete an insolent survey of all six feet two inches of honed male flesh. Mitch still had a great body. She kinked an eyebrow when she met his gaze again, keeping her face bland. ‘But it has to be said, you used a smoother approach last time.’

      And, just like that, the air shimmered with unspoken tension. As if it hadn’t been shimmering enough before!

      ‘You’re never going to forgive me, are you?’

      ‘Nope.’

      ‘I was trying to protect you.’

      ‘Liar.’

      She spoke so softly it almost sounded like an endearment. He took a step back, shrugged his official demeanour back on like a second skin. ‘We have it on fairly good authority that Rick is headed for Sydney.’

      She kept her mouth shut.

      ‘And we think you’re next on his hit list.’

      It took an effort of will not to roll her eyes. ‘Besides the fact that I know Rick would never hurt a woman—any woman—I’ve never been his girlfriend. I think that rules me out, don’t you?’

      ‘No.’

      It was the way he said it. It made her blood run cold. Mitch might not make the law, but he sure as heck ensured it was enforced to the letter. Regardless of the cost—to himself or to others. ‘What makes you so sure I’m next on the hit list?’

      ‘A crumpled-up piece of paper with your address on it.’

      She went cold all over. ‘Found where?’

      ‘In that field of slaughtered sheep.’

      She folded her arms, resisting the urge to chafe them instead.

      ‘Two undercover officers from Central Sydney are on their way here now. One of them fits your description.’

      We have a problem...you won’t like the solution.

      ‘And the bit I’m not going to like?’

      ‘They’re going to stake out your house to wait for Rick, and we have to get you out of here.’

      She went to shake her head.

      ‘For your own protection.’

      It should’ve sounded ludicrously melodramatic, but it didn’t. She stared at him for a long tension-fraught moment, taking in the way his mouth tightened and his shoulders tensed. ‘We meaning you?’

      He nodded.

      ‘This is a bit beneath you these days, isn’t it?’ He’d progressed through the ranks of the force with a speed that was apparently a credit to him and his family. She might call him Officer, but he was a detective now. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t moved to a flashier suburb and wiped the dust of this working-class neighbourhood from the soles of his polished boots. She couldn’t believe he was standing in her kitchen asking her about Rick Bradford again.

      She pointed to the suitcase on the sofa, open but neatly packed. ‘Look, I’m about to head off on holiday for a week. Up the coast. I won’t be around to spoil your stakeout or whatever it is you have planned.’

      ‘You don’t understand, Tash. We need to get you somewhere safe. We don’t want to risk you ending up in hospital...or worse.’

      ‘Why you?’ The question burst from her, but she couldn’t help it. She didn’t want anything to do with this man. Ever. Again.

      His nostrils flared. ‘My history with Bradford is well known.’ The words came out clipped and short. ‘The powers that be want me out of the way.’

      ‘So even your superiors think your judgement is clouded on the issue?’

      He didn’t say anything. He simply reached across and turned the photograph of the sheep over; spread each photograph out so she could experience their full impact.

      She cut short a shudder. Show no weakness. Rick wasn’t responsible for those dreadful things, but someone was. Someone who wanted to frame him or hurt him in some way. Someone who didn’t care who they hurt in the process. She couldn’t stop her gaze from flicking to the other photos—the burned-out house. How dreadful to lose all you owned in the world in one fell swoop. She glanced around her open-plan kitchen and living room. She didn’t have much, but...

      She glanced at the photo of the crumpled car and swallowed. Some of the questions Rick had asked her the other night made sudden and sinister sense—Have any new people come to the area? Has anything unusual happened lately? He’d asked them all in such a way that he hadn’t raised her suspicions, but now...

      She knew her rights. She could say no. For heaven’s sake, she hadn’t had a holiday ever. But she owed Rick. If she could help bring this situation to a swift conclusion—help clear him—the sacrifice of a holiday would be a small price to pay.

      ‘Where do you mean to take me?’ She didn’t doubt for a moment that Mitch had an ironclad plan.

      He met her gaze and just shrugged.

      Obviously it was a secret ironclad plan. ‘How long do you think this operation is going to take?’

      ‘No more than a few days.’

      She glanced at the photographs again. Who on earth would want to hurt those women? And what did it all have to do with Rick?

      A burned-out house. Severed brake lines. Slaughtered sheep. She suppressed a shiver. She might’ve learned some street smarts in the last few years, she might be known as someone not to mess with, but she had no desire to come face to face with whoever was responsible for all of that. She knew self-defence and she had a smart mouth, but this... It was out of her league.

      Self-preservation battled with pride. Common sense eventually won out. She might hate Mitch, but not enough to endanger her own life. She could put up with him escorting her to wherever it was she needed to go. ‘When do we have to leave?’

      ‘Within the hour would be good.’

      She bit back a sigh. ‘You said there were two officers coming? I’ll make up the bed in the spare room.’

      ‘Just leave the linen out. They can make up their own beds.’

      Typical male.

      Her hand clenched. There was nothing typical about Mitch King, and she’d do well not to forget it. ‘Then I guess I’ll just throw the rest of the wet things in the dryer, pack a bag and get changed.’

      ‘Tash, thank you.’ She must’ve looked blank because he added, ‘For being so reasonable about this.’

      His gaze lowered to her fist. She unclenched it and pasted a fake smile to her face. ‘I’m no longer an overwrought teenager, Officer King. I have absolutely no desire to meet the person responsible for those awful things.’ She gestured to the photos. ‘But I can tell you now, you’re on the wrong trail if you think it’s Rick.’ And the sooner the police found that out the better.

      He didn’t say anything for a long moment. ‘I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ll call me Mitch?’

      ‘You suppose right.’

      She stalked off, heart thumping.

      ‘You already have a suitcase packed. You won’t need to pack a separate bag.’

      ‘They’re holiday things.’ Swimsuits and shorts and bright T-shirts. If she was lucky she still might get away for a couple of days.

      ‘Which will all be fine,’ he called after her.

      That sounded promising. She wondered if the NSW Police Force budget extended to putting her up in a nice resort somewhere on the North Coast. It’d mean her week wouldn’t be a complete loss.

      She focused on that rather than the thought of spending the next few hours in Mitch’s company.

      She