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  “Tell me the truth, Cassie, you’ve missed this.”

  Her first impulse was to deny Kane’s words, to tell him that she had been perfectly satisfied with her life before the Agency tapped her for this particular assignment.

  She’d thought she’d been happy arguing with her neighbor, tending her lawn, fighting with common criminals and making arrests. But she’d been fooling herself, and she knew she’d never be able to fool Kane.

  “Yeah, I missed it,” she replied grudgingly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m coming back. I agreed to this one assignment, and that’s all.”

  Kane reached out for her hand and twined his fingers with hers. “We were good together, Cassie. We stopped a lot of bad things from happening in the world.”

  “But I couldn’t stop you from taking that bullet for me, could I?” she said. Hot tears burned her eyes, and she was appalled that this still had the power to hurt. “If I hadn’t been your lover, if we’d just been partners like we were supposed to be, then you wouldn’t have nearly died. Sorry, I can’t let you take that risk—ever again.”

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to Silhouette Bombshell, the hottest new line to hit the bookshelves this summer. Who is the Silhouette Bombshell woman? She’s the bombshell of the new millennium; she’s savvy, sexy and strong. She’s just as comfortable in a cocktail dress as she is brandishing blue steel! Now she’s being featured in the four thrilling reads we’ll be bringing you each month.

  What can you expect in a Silhouette Bombshell novel? A high-stakes situation in which the heroine saves the day. She’s the kind of woman who always gets her man—and we’re not just talking about the bad guy. Take a look at this month’s lineup.…

  From USA TODAY bestselling author Lindsay McKenna, we have Daughter of Destiny, an action-packed adventure featuring a Native American military pilot on a quest to find the lost ark of her people. Her partner on this dangerous trek? The one man she never thought she’d see again, much less risk her life with!

  This month also kicks off ATHENA FORCE, a brand-new twelve-book continuity series featuring friends bonded during their elite training and reunited when one of them is murdered. In Proof, by award-winning author Justine Davis, you’ll meet a forensic investigator on a mission, and the sexy stranger who may have deadly intentions toward her.

  Veteran author Carla Cassidy brings us a babe with an attitude—and a sense of humor. Everyone wants to Get Blondie in this story of a smart-mouthed cop and the man she just can’t say no to when it comes to dealing out justice.

  Finally, be the first to read hot new novelist Judith Leon’s Code Name: Dove, featuring Nova Blair, the CIA’s secret weapon. Nova’s mission this time? Seduction.

  We hope you enjoy this killer lineup!

  Sincerely,

  Natashya Wilson

  Associate Senior Editor, Silhouette Bombshell

  GET BLONDIE

  CARLA CASSIDY

  CARLA CASSIDY

  isn’t a secret agent or martial-arts expert, but she does consider herself a Bombshell kind of woman. She lives a life of love and adventure in the Midwest with her husband, Frank, and has written over fifty books for Silhouette.

  Dedicated to my editor, Julie Barrett.

  Thanks for all your work on this project.

  Long live Bombshell heroines!

  Books by Carla Cassidy

  Silhouette Bombshell

  Get Blondie #3

  Silhouette Shadows

  Swamp Secrets #4

  Heart of the Beast #11

  Silent Screams #25

  Mystery Child #61

  Silhouette Intimate Moments

  One of the Good Guys #531

  Try To Remember #560

  Fugitive Father #604

  Behind Closed Doors #778

  †Reluctant Wife #850

  †Reluctant Dad #856

  ‡Her Counterfeit Husband #885

  ‡Code Name: Cowboy #902

  ‡Rodeo Dad #934

  In a Heartbeat #1005

  ‡Imminent Danger #1018

  Strangers When We Married #1046

  **Man on a Mission #1077

  Born of Passion #1094

  **Once Forbidden… #1115

  **To Wed and Protect #1126

  **Out of Exile #1149

  Secrets of a Pregnant Princess #1166

  ‡‡Last Seen… #1233

  ‡‡Dead Certain #1250

  ‡‡Trace Evidence #1261

  ‡‡Manhunt #1294

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  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 1

  The tough punk was known as Snake on the streets of Kansas City, but in reality his name was Sammy Watson and he had a long string of outstanding warrants. As he warily faced Officer Cassandra Newton beneath the dirty glare of the overhead street lamp, he appeared more like his street name than his birth name, hissing and coiling in preparation for a fight.

  Cassie threw a glance toward the patrol car parked nearby. Her partner, Asia Malone, leaned against the driver door, eating a candy bar that looked minuscule in his massive hand.

  A roar from Sammy yanked her attention back where it belonged just as the young man charged her like an enraged bull. With graceful agility she sidestepped the attack, then turned to face him as he stopped and turned back toward her, his breaths coming in short, quick gasps.

  “Come on, Sammy. It’s been a long day. We can make this easy, or we can make it hard,” she said as the two circled each other.

  “I ain’t making nothing easy on you. No bitch cop is going to take me in.”

  “Don’t get her riled, Sammy boy,” Asia called out. “I know what she’s capable of and it isn’t pretty.”

  “Shut up, you big, black pile of crap,” Sammy screamed. With a surprisingly quick movement he pulled a knife from his pocket. “Come on, Blondie, let’s tango.”

  Cassie sighed wearily. It had been a long day of minor irritations and this kid pulling a knife on her was the last straw. Sometimes young, ignorant creeps just needed to get their butts kicked.

  She drew a deep breath and centered herself. Her first kick, sharp and crisp, sent the knife flying out of Sammy’s hand. The second one, delivered to the side of his head, sent him crashing to the ground on his hands and knees.

  She put her boot in the center of his back and with a minimum of pressure flattened him to the ground. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you, Sammy…” She slapped cuffs on him and yanked him to his feet. “…I hate to tango.”

  She shoved the cuffed prisoner toward her partner. “Thanks for the help,” she said dryly to Asia as he popped the last of the candy bar into his mouth.

  He grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dark of the night. “Poetry in motion,” he said. “You know how much I love to watch you work.”

  “Yeah, well you get to do the paperwork when we get back to the station.”

  They loaded Sammy into the back seat of their car and within minutes they were on their way back to the Kansas City, Missouri East Patrol Station House.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Sammy yelled from the back seat. “You’re dead. You are one dead cop.” He kicked the seat for emphasis.

  “Give it a rest, Sammy,” Cassie said. “You’ve got enough warrants against you that you’ll be on Medic
are when you finally see freedom again.”

  Sammy fell silent, apparently contemplating his future behind bars.

  “Ah, Cassie, for years I hoped to be partnered with a person who was bigger than me,” Asia said.

  She eyed him with a wry grin. It would have been next to impossible to find a man bigger than Asia. At six foot six inches tall and almost three hundred pounds, Asia had once told her he’d gotten his name because his mother had sworn she was birthing a continent when he’d come into the world.

  “I never managed to find a partner bigger than me, but I definitely hit easy street when they put you with me.” He laughed, a deep, robust sound that filled the car. “Hell, I love it that I got a partner who can kick ass better than me any day of the week.”

  Cassie loved having a partner whom she trusted and respected. Asia, along with his wife Serena and their four children were so wonderfully normal. And in her thirty-years on earth, Cassie had had very little normal in her life.

  “Hey, Serena’s making that rice dish you like so much on Sunday. She asked me to ask you if you want to come over around two and eat with us.”

  “I thought you hated that rice dish,” Cassie said as they pulled into the underground parking area.

  “I do. I’m planning on sneaking a couple of steaks on the grill.” He grimaced as Sammy began yelling and kicking in the back seat. He looked back at Cassie. “You go on, get out of here. It’s past time for us to be off. I’ll process this schmuck and you can head home.”

  “Thanks, Asia.” She bounded out of the patrol car and headed inside to get her personal belongings. It had been a long day and she was exhausted.

  The station was relatively quiet. Wednesday nights were usually easy ones. The cops called it the midweek recovery day…the perps of the city were either resting from the past weekend or preparing for the next.

  As she made her way to the desk she shared with Asia and four other patrolmen, her fellow cops greeted her.

  “Hey, Cassie, we heard another one bit the dust.” Officer Gomez held up two thumbs.

  She grinned at the attractive Hispanic man. “We got lucky, spotted him strolling down the sidewalk like he didn’t know he had eight warrants against him,” she replied. Gomez laughed and shook his head.

  “Looks like you’ve got a secret admirer,” Jim Johnson, a vice cop said as he finger-combed his scraggly beard.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pointed toward her desk at the back of the room. “It was delivered just a few minutes ago by some overnight delivery service.”

  A long-stemmed white rose stood in a slender gold bud vase. A blood-red ribbon was tied to one end of the rose and the other end to a cell phone.

  The sight turned Cassie’s blood cold. No way, she thought as she moved on leaden feet to the desk. No way in hell were they going to sucker her into coming back. She didn’t care what was happening. She didn’t care what was at stake.

  She leaned a slender hip against the desk and untied the rose from the compact phone. She knew the phone was impossible to trace and the favorite mode of communication for three groups of people…terrorists, drug dealers and the agency. This one hadn’t come from any drug dealer or terrorist.

  She stared at the number pad. All she had to do was hit the redial button and she’d be connected to somebody who would tell her what they wanted her to know.

  She didn’t want to know anything. The phone would only be active for a little while, then the activation would be stopped and she’d toss it in the trash.

  Irritated by the mere sight of it, she grabbed the vase and the phone and threw the entire mess into the garbage can next to her desk.

  “Ah, somebody is really in the doghouse when pretty flowers and a free cell phone don’t even work,” one of the officers teased.

  She only wished it were something as simple as a boyfriend in her doghouse. She unlocked the desk drawer and retrieved her car keys from the jumble of items inside. Forget it, she told herself as she walked to her car parked behind the station house.

  She had a relatively uncomplicated life now. She wasn’t about to risk it all to go back to work for the agency. She’d left that life five years ago and had never looked back. When they didn’t immediately get a phone call from her they would know she was out of the game permanently.

  The agency had a name…SPACE…acronyms that stood for Special Personnel Against Criminal Elements. It was a secret, covert group run by John Etheridge, head of Homeland Security for the United States.

  Cassie had been recruited by the agency when she was at the Police Academy in Los Angeles. She’d given SPACE four years of her life, working dangerous assignments all over the world. But she’d left the agency five years ago and vowed she’d never go back.

  As she got into her car she drew a deep breath of the early summer night air. After so many years on the West Coast, Cassie had grown to love the Midwest’s four seasons.

  Early summer scents brought with them a curious blend of pleasure and bittersweet pain. Kansas City was the city of her early childhood, a childhood that had ended abruptly and inexplicably on the streets of Los Angeles when she’d been eleven.

  She consciously shoved thoughts of her past aside as she started her car. She tossed her hat into the back seat of the car, then began the thirty-minute drive from the station house to her ranch in the northern suburbs.

  She yawned and checked the clock on the dash. Almost one o’clock. If she and Asia hadn’t spotted Sammy the Snake on the street, she would have already been snuggled into bed and fast asleep.

  When she finally pulled into her driveway, she cut the engine and tapped her short nails against the steering wheel. A restless energy had begun to build inside her as the vision of that darned white rose played and replayed in her mind.

  If it were earlier she’d have gone to the gym and worked it out. She could always throw some jabs on the punching bag in her spare room, but it was too late and she’d promised Max she’d meet him for breakfast early in the morning.

  White Rose. It had been her code name. Another life, she thought. That life had nothing to do with the one she’d carved out for herself over the last five years.

  She got out of the car and walked up the sidewalk to her front door. She couldn’t help but feel a burst of pride. Her sidewalk…her front porch…her home and nobody could ever take it away from her.

  She would never again sleep on the street or in the shelter of a cardboard box or beneath the thick concrete of a highway overpass. She would never again go to sleep and be afraid of what the night might bring…of what the next day would bring.

  Security. It’s what she’d finally attained in the last five years and nobody and nothing would make her risk it. She unlocked the front door, stepped inside and disarmed the security system.

  When she closed the door behind her, she knew she wasn’t alone. She didn’t hear a sound, smelled only the scent of lemon oil and glass cleaner from her cleaning frenzy earlier in the day, but she knew in her gut someone had either been inside recently or was still here.

  The living room was dark except for a thin stream of illumination that seeped through a crack in the front curtains from a nearby street lamp.

  Moving slowly, stealthily, she reached with her right hand into her pocket and pulled out the knife she’d had since she’d been thirteen years old.

  The intricately carved handle fit perfectly into her palm and when she tapped the button on the side the switchblade shot out with a faint sound. Not exactly police issue, but she never left home without it.

  She shifted it from her right hand to her left, grabbing the sharp point as adrenaline pumped through her. She could hit a target faster, more accurately with the knife than she could with her gun. The knife had kept her alive for many years on the streets.

  Her living room was sparsely furnished, as was the rest of the house. There was just enough light to see that there was nobody in the living room. Everything appeared to be just a
s she had left it when she’d gone to work at three that afternoon.

  But the hair stood up on the back of her neck as she quietly advanced from the living room into the kitchen. It was darker and more difficult to discern what lie waiting in the shadows.

  She stood in the doorway, willing her breathing to still, the sound of her own heartbeat to silence. Beneath the hum of the refrigerator motor she heard nothing to indicate there was another living, breathing person in the room.

  Maybe she was mistaken, still charged with residual energy from the scuffle with Sammy the Snake and from receiving the unexpected communication from the agency. Maybe she was just imagining the nebulous presence of another invading her personal space.

  But it had been innate instinct, intense imagination and an almost paranoid level of caution that had kept her alive until now. She’d learned through the years that when any of those three emotions went into action, it was best not to ignore them. And at the moment all three were screaming inside her.

  Slowly, not making a sound, she made her way down the hall. The door to the bathroom was closed, as were the doors to the two spare bedrooms. But the door to the master bedroom at the very end of the hall stood open. She never left the doors opened.

  The minute she stepped into the doorway of the bedroom she saw him…a tall dark figure standing near the window. An intruder who didn’t belong in the sanctity of her home. The instinct of survival kicked in and she raised the knife to throw…at the last minute a flash of recognition altered her aim.