Wild Riders #1
Mac and Lily were involved 10 years ago. He dumped her so she could get on with her life. They never forgot each other. She is a private investigator and was hired to check the security at a museum when she watches a man break in and then leave with an artifact. It is Mac. What? She tries to get the artifact back and they get shot at and get away on his motorcycle. He can't let her go. He needs to deliver the object that was in the artifact. What is going on?
I liked this story. Lily is a kick ass feisty character. She knows what she wants and goes for it.
From the author:
Lily West never expected to see Mac Canfield again, much less be holding him at gun point. But here he was, the bad boy who crushed her heart years ago—still a thief, and this time hijacking a priceless artifact. And damn if he wasn’t still the most infuriatingly persuasive, perfectly chiseled male that ever made her come undone.
Mac was no less shocked to see the beautiful girl-next-door all grown up, threatening to shoot him on the spot. Little did she know she was blowing his cover—and now he had to figure out how to get her out of harm’s way without succumbing to his crazy desire to take her on a hot trip down memory lane.
Unless straddling Mac’s chrome and hot leather and being taken for a ride is exactly what Lily wants.
"You were a cop?" His eyes widened.
"That's not what we're talking about. We're discussing your macho show of over protectiveness back there."
"I was trying to prevent you from being shot."
"I didn't need your help."
Ignoring her outburst, he unzipped his jacket and slowly started peeling it off his shoulders, as if he wasn't paying the slightest bit of attention to her.
"Are you listening to me at all, Mac? Are you hearing what I'm saying? I am competent, goddamit. I am not some air headed idiot who needed protecting. And where's the vial?"
Once he had the jacket off, she zeroed in on the dark stain on his arm and a river of blood pouring off the ends of his fingers. Any anger she felt dissipated in a rush of panic and concern.
"Oh. sh*t. You were shot?" She rushed over and began to pull up his shirt.
"I'm fine," he said, but he didn't try to stop her.
"Bullet just grazed me."
Her gaze rocketed to his. "Oh, and you're some kind of psychic doctor, I suppose. How do you know?"
He shrugged. "I've been shot a few times. I know."
She shuddered at the thought. "Spare me the details. Let's get this shirt off." She drew the shirt over his head, then peeled it gently away from his shoulder, taking special care when she pulled the fabric down his injured arm.
"We need more light." She looked around the campground, spotting a grey brick building with a single overhead light a short distance away. Bathroom. "Have you got a first aid kit in the bike?"
"Yeah. Left saddlebag."
She hurried over and fumbled through the bag, found the first aid kit and a flashlight, then pushed him toward the bathroom. The light switch revealed a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully there was a sink and paper towels in there.
"Sit," she ordered, pointing him toward the wooden bench next to the shower.
"Bossy," he teased, grinning up at her.
Read more here.