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  GUNS ‘N’ TULIPS

  Officer Connor Kavanagh lost everything—his badge, his friends and his fiancée—when he agreed to go undercover with the mob and infiltrate the ruthless Bank Bandits. After months of scheming and strategizing, the day of the big heist—and Connor's chance to get his old life back—finally arrives, but right from the start, Connor's plans fall apart. Even worse, the woman he loves is trapped in the crosshairs of the Bank Bandits' murderous leader, and Connor is her only hope for survival.

  Raves For

  KRISTINE CAYNE and HER NOVELS

  “Highly flammable and unforgettable. My favorite erotic romance of the year. Cayne's debut erotic romance was impossible to put down.”

  —MsRomanticReads Romance & Erotica Book Reviews on Under His Command

  "A Romantic BDSM story, Kristine Cayne's erotica debut hits all the right spots and set them on fire."

  —Provocative Pages Book Reviews on Under His Command

  “UNDER HIS COMMAND is an edgy, sassy, and oh-so-sexy novel! In other words, erotica at its sizzling best. Another 5-star achievement from talented author Kristine Cayne!”

  —Laura Taylor, Romantic Suspense Author of The Warrior Series, 6-Time Romantic Times Award Winner, 2-Time Maggie Award Winner, & RWA RITA Finalist

  "This baby gives new meaning to the word HOT! Insanely creative, toe curling and to top that, an amazing story as well! If this is Kristine's first erotic romance, imagine what she'll think of next!"

  —Jackie Munoz on Under His Command

  “Stock up on ice cubes because this is definitely one sizzling debut…. As rich as a white chocolate cheesecake, Cayne’s entrance into the suspense genre is invigorating, explosive and simply intoxicating….”

  —RT Book Reviews, 4½ stars, Top Pick! on Deadly Obsession

  “…I laughed, I cried, I sighed and was left wanting to read more…. I’m truly looking forward to reading more in this series.”

  —Blithely Bookish Reviews on Deadly Obsession

  “…This story was a page turner with the stalking suspense along with the love scenes that are steamy!”

  —Romance Novel Junkies on Deadly Obsession

  “I loved Nic and Lauren. They were absolutely hot together…. The stalker storyline… kept me just as entertained as the romance…. [On] my list of books that I will definitely be rereading!”

  —Cocktails and Books on Deadly Obsession

  "This is a read that will have you staying up late to not only enjoy Alyssa and Rémi’s out of this world chemistry, but so see what lengths some will go to in order to preserve what they feel is right."

  —Night Owl Reviews, 4.5 Stars, Top Pick! on Deadly Addiction

  "...Cayne creates an entertaining tale, packed with distinctive characters and a suspenseful storyline."

  —RT Book Reviews on Deadly Addiction

  "Kristine Cayne will dazzle readers yet again with Deadly Addiction, a compelling, beautifully crafted, powerhouse of a romantic suspense novel. Truly a 5-star read! Bravo, Author!"

  —Laura Taylor, best-selling author of Intimate Strangers on Deadly Addiction

  “…an incredibly gripping, roller-coaster ride, amazingly intense romantic suspense novel. It's overflowing with amazing characters that you love to love, and some that you love to hate (Chaz!). The title is perfect, because it IS addictive. You'll be hooked from start to finish and by the end....you'll be left on the edge, wanting more.”

  —Reviews by Molly on Deadly Addiction

  GUNS ‘N’ TULIPS

  KRISTINE CAYNE

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright © 2013 Kristine Cayne

  Excerpt from Deadly Obsession © 2012 Kristine Cayne

  All rights reserved.

  Book cover design by Sherri Shaftic 2013

  www.sherribydesign.com

  ISBN (ebook): 0984903461

  ISBN-13 (ebook): 978-0-9849034-6-7

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  As always, to my wonderful husband for your amazing support of my writing, for cooking supper when my fingers are attached to the keyboard, and for making sure I have everything I need to be the best writer I can be.

  To my children who are always complaining that they aren’t allowed to read my books. This is one you CAN read.

  To Dana Delamar for your super-human editing skills, and for keeping me on track, even when all I want is to bury my nose in a book and read.

  To Sherri Shaftic for creating a fabulous cover that reflects the story so perfectly!

  To all my readers, both current and new, I can’t thank you enough for taking a chance on me and my stories. May this be the beginning of a lifelong friendship!

  ALSO BY KRISTINE CAYNE

  Six-Alarm Sexy Series

  “Aftershocks,” in Romance in the Rain (Prequel)

  Under His Command (Book One)

  Deadly Vices Series

  Deadly Obsession (Book One)

  Deadly Addiction (Book Two)

  Novelettes

  Un-Valentine’s Day

  For more information, visit: www.kristinecayne.com

  A NOTE TO READERS

  This book contains my novelette, Guns ‘N’ Tulips. As a special bonus, I’ve included the beginning of my romantic suspense novel, Deadly Obsession. Please note that the bonus material begins around the 80% mark on your ereader.

  Guns ‘N’ Tulips was originally released as part of The WG2E All-for-Indies Anthologies: Spring Hop Edition.

  Chapter 1

  Connor Kavanagh crinkled his nose against the stench of sweat and stale cigarette smoke permeating the interior of the getaway van. He made a show of checking his shoulder rig, then pretending he had an itch, slid a hand along his calf to confirm that his Glock 27 was safely tucked into his ankle holster. He wanted to put the Bank Bandits in jail, but he didn’t want to die doing it. He had a life to get back to. A life that hinged on the success of his mission today. And on Lily forgiving him.

  The van stopped. Rourke Walsh, the leader of this band of deadly misfits, cleared his throat. “Ready, ladies?”

  Connor looked around. The van had pulled into a parking spot just in front of a Bank of America. What the hell? He eyed his partners in crime. None appeared concerned. “Aren’t we supposed to hit the CitiBank on Jackson?”

  He glanced at Owen, looking for confirmation, but his friend kept staring at the back of the driver’s head. Something was going on, something bad.

  Rourke grinned. “You know what they say, once a conman always a conman. Think of this as a test. I got a buddy scoping out the CitiBank. Cops show up there, I’ll know we can’t trust you.”

  Christ! As soon as Rourke’s informant caught sight of Captain Morris and his team, Connor was a dead man. He’d have lost four months of his life, his reputation as a cop, even his fiancée, for fucking nothing. He glanced at Neil sitting beside Rourke. Maybe he could use what he knew abou
t Neil to drive a wedge between them. Keeping his face blank, Connor swallowed and shook his head. “Bad move, boss. You better hope they have the same type of safe as our original target.”

  “You’re the big expert. According to Owen you can get into anything.” And Owen would know. They’d grown up in Mount Greenwood, a predominantly Irish-Catholic neighborhood on the southwest side of Chicago. Both their fathers had died young and they’d felt honor bound to help their struggling mothers put food on the table anyway they could. Stealing the occasional gallon of milk from the convenience store had led to bigger jobs and put them in the eye of men like Rourke. Connor’s reputation as a top-notch safecracker and Owen’s knack for always knowing the best spots to hit were the only reasons either of them had survived adolescence. Connor almost felt bad for using his friend to infiltrate the Bandits. But Owen had made his choices. They both had.

  Connor shook his head at Rourke’s ignorance. The man was an expert strategist, but he had no appreciation for a cracksman’s skills. “A bank vault isn’t like your woman's legs; it won't open with just a kiss and a poke. It requires some teasing, some stroking, the right tools, and a man who knows what to do with them.”

  “You’d better have the skills to back up that mouth, Conman. Prove you’re not just a can-opener.” Rourke waited for Connor to nod before continuing. “You and Owen take the lead. Get the people on the ground. Frank and me, we’ll follow. Neil, watch our backs. Shoot anyone who looks like trouble. Terrence, bring the car to the employees’ side door and wait for us there.” His eyes lasered on each of them. “No fuck-ups. Let’s go!”

  They pulled the stockings over their heads and picked up their weapons. Connor slipped the backpack containing his tools on his shoulders, and when the van door slid open, he and Owen jumped out. A brisk March wind tugged at Connor’s trench coat, threatening to yank it open and reveal the MP5 he held hidden inside. The day’s cloudy gray skies reflected his mood as they sped across the oddly empty sidewalk.

  In the distance, he heard the cheering of a crowd. Brows furrowed, he pushed open the entrance door to the bank and came face to face with a cardboard leprechaun. St. Patrick’s Day. The bank was only a few blocks from the parade route where all the Irish and Irish wannabes in the city of Chicago were lining along Columbus Drive, shivering in the cold lake air and drinking gallons of beer and whiskey. Last year, Lily had insisted on attending both the river-dying ceremony and the parade, and he’d had a blast snuggling with her under a Bears blanket to keep her warm.

  But that was a lifetime ago. Lily hated him now, maybe for good.

  Pushing down the emotions clogging his throat, he nodded to Owen, raised his gun and charged inside. “Everyone, listen up! Get face down on the ground with your hands above your heads. Now!”

  A security guard and the bank patrons, three women and two men, stared back at him. One of the women, a lady in her sixties, screamed. Another rushed forward, white-faced and tight-lipped, and helped the older woman get on the floor. Connor felt two inches tall as he continued to point the MP5 at them while shouting instructions.

  Owen rushed over to the tellers. “Move it!” he bellowed, gesturing with his weapon for them to join the others in the lobby.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Connor spotted a teller reaching below the counter as she turned to exit the restricted area. Good woman. At least the cops would be alerted. Whether Captain Morris would be able to get here in time was another question. If he recalled correctly, their original target was smack-dab in the middle of the parade action. He should have paid more attention, should have investigated the location, and put two and two together. If he died in this bank, bleeding out on the mud-streaked tile, he’d deserve it. But he wouldn’t fold without giving it his best shot.

  When Rourke’s informant called, Neil was going down.

  Rourke and Frank added their voices to the chaos while Neil guarded the door. Like a bull on steroids, Frank charged through the lobby to help Owen herd the staff from behind the counter. But Rourke split off and weaved his way to the back offices, no doubt looking for the loan manager. Ever since his mortgage refinancing had been turned down and he’d lost his home and business, Rourke had a hard-on for loan managers. In the last six months, every bank the Bandits had hit, the loan manager had eaten a bullet.

  That more than anything is what had convinced Connor to accept this undercover assignment. Robbery was one thing; murder was another. Thank God, Lily was just a teller. Besides, she was safe in Schaumburg.

  The security guard lying on the floor to his left slowly inched his hand toward the gun holster on his hip. Connor stepped forward, pointing his weapon at the man’s head. “Don’t even think about it,” he growled. He admired the man’s courage, but it would only get him and maybe a few other innocents killed.

  Pale faced, the guard returned his hand to its former position above his head. Connor took the man’s gun, shoving it into the back of his jeans. He swept his gaze around the room. “That goes for the rest of you. No heroics.”

  A commotion coming from the offices interrupted the whimpering of the women lying near the counter. Connor’s heart sank. Rourke must have found the loan manager. Seconds later, Rourke appeared in the lobby, shoving a woman in front of him. The strawberry-blonde hair hiding her face reminded him of Lily. Christ, he missed her. Not seeing her everyday had been the single most difficult part of this assignment.

  “Let me go, you Neanderthal,” the loan manager shouted as she struggled to wrest her arm from Rourke’s hold. The woman’s voice turned every drop of blood in Connor’s body to ice. He stood frozen, unable to move, unable to believe.

  It can’t be.

  She raised her head, and all the oxygen was sucked out of his chest, as if he’d plunged into Lake Michigan, the cold water closing in over his head, cutting off light, cutting of sound, cutting off escape.

  Lily wasn’t supposed to be here. Lily was supposed to be in Schaumburg. Lily was supposed to be safe.

  Lily lunged forward, trying to wrench her arm from the man’s iron grip. He yanked her to a halt, and jabbed his weapon into her temple. If the stocking on his head and his manhandling hadn’t convinced her of the seriousness of the situation, having the business end of the man’s machine gun pointed at her did.

  “Do I have your attention now?”

  When she nodded, he lowered the gun. She scanned the room. The restricted area was empty. Where were all the front staff? Muffled cries reached her from the lobby, but from where she stood, she couldn’t see anyone. The man pushed her forward.

  A few steps later, she froze, her feet refusing to move, her heart refusing to beat. The tellers, Joe…, were lying… For a second, she thought they were dead, but she’d heard no shots, saw no blood. Then Joe moved, and she could finally take a breath. It was a hold-up, not a massacre.

  At least not yet.

  Lifting her gaze from the floor, Lily counted five men, all masked and holding identical weapons, pointed at her fellow employees. Her clients. Oh God. These guys weren’t just bank robbers; they were the Bank Bandits.

  Hearing a rough inhale, she jerked her head toward the sound. She narrowed her eyes at a Bandit standing a few yards away from her; he was staring and breathing hard. No way, buddy. She might die today, but none of these monsters would rape her.

  In drills, the cops had always arrived within three to four minutes of the alarm sounding. If they’d remembered their training, at least one of the tellers would have tripped the silent alarm. She just needed to keep the Bandits talking, delay them until help arrived.

  “Hey, Conman. Stop fucking gawking and do your job,” said the man holding her arm.

  The other man cleared his throat. “Yeah. I got it, Rourke.”

  She couldn’t see his face clearly, but that voice… And what had the boss called him? Conman? Hadn’t Connor mentioned that nickname when he’d told her a story about growing up on the South Side? Could Connor really have sunk so low?

&n
bsp; She ripped out of Rourke’s grasp, her gaze never leaving Conman’s face. “You!” she shouted, closing the gap between them. Conman took a step back, shifting the barrel of his gun away from her. When he turned his head sideways, depriving her of the good look she needed, she poked his chest with her finger. “I know you.”

  That got his attention. Conman’s head whipped back to her, his eyes wide, ping-ponging between her and the other Bandits. This close up, she could see Connor’s strong jaw and sky-blue eyes through the nylon shielding his face. Her chest squeezed painfully, betrayal piercing her heart, cleaving it in two. She wanted to cry, scream, pound some sense into him. How could he do this? How could he join a gang of ruthless killers?

  The blood seemed to drain from his face as he clasped his fingers around hers, pulling her hand away from his chest. “You don’t know nothing.”

  The message was pretty clear. Connor was hiding information from the others. Were they even aware he’d been a cop? Then again, if they did know, why would they trust him? She certainly didn’t. He’d been no better than a smarmy used-car salesman, feeding her all the lines he’d known she’d wanted to hear, igniting her dreams about a future with him, a family. She felt a flutter in her belly and pressed a hand there to feel their baby move.