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       Davis wasn’t sure just what had possessed him at that moment. Most likely it was frustration.

      Or maybe he just wanted her to back off once and for all, and the only way he felt he could do that was to frighten her off. He reasoned he could do that by kissing her.

      Which was why he’d turned toward Moira and, operating on what amounted to automatic pilot, he suddenly and without a word pulled her to him despite her seat belt. He didn’t even remember leaning against the rather awkward transmission shift that was between them, dividing them from one another like an old-fashioned bundling board. All that he did remember was that he kissed her.

      Kissed her hard.

      Kissed her until neither one of them could breathe anymore and the only sound within the sedan was the one created by two pounding hearts.

      * * *

      Be sure to check out the next books in this exciting series:

      Cavanaugh Justice—Where Aurora’s finest are always in action.

      Cavanaugh or

      Death

      Marie Ferrarella

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author MARIE FERRARELLA has written more than two-hundred-and-fifty books for Mills & Boon, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website, www.marieferrarella.com.

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      To Kristin Costello, With deep appreciation For being more Than a nurse.

      Contents

       Cover

       Introduction

       Title Page

       About the Author

       Dedication

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Chapter 15

       Chapter 16

       Chapter 17

       Chapter 18

       Chapter 19

       Chapter 20

       Epilogue

       Extract

       Copyright

       Prologue

      Dawn was beginning to touch the edges of the darkness, hinting that first light was not far away.

      Davis Gilroy was only vaguely aware of the time, having glanced at his wristwatch just before entering St. Joseph’s Cemetery, the larger of the two cemeteries in the city of Aurora, California, where he had lived all of his life.

      Davis assumed that there was a groundskeeper in the area somewhere, possibly grabbing a catnap in one of the three mausoleums on the far end of the property. Or maybe the man was sleeping on the creased brown leather sofa back at the office right off the cemetery’s chapel. But other than the groundskeeper, Davis was fairly certain he was the only one in the area.

      That was the way he liked it. He liked being alone.

      Although he was a detective in the police department’s major crime division, Davis wasn’t much of a people person. Especially since losing his last two partners, Detective Mike Chan and Detective Ed Ramirez, both of whom now permanently resided at this same cemetery.

      But he wasn’t here to pay his respects to the two men he had worked beside for a total of less than three years.

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