Dr. Bond Bergstrom fights to save the life of a man shot near the lakeside path where he jogs. Later, when the hospital where Bond works as chief of surgery learns the shooter attempted to kill him also, the board insists on assigning security protection to him 24/7 until the killer is caught.<br><br>Bond is furious with the decision. Former Navy SEALs, he argues, can protect themselves better than anyone in the world. Not so, counters former Delta Force operative Rory O’Shea. He’s the hot, sexy Irish-American who owns the agency providing the hospital’s routine security.<br><br>Bond grudgingly gives in, unaware that O’Shea has an ulterior motive in assigning himself to spend nights with the doctor as his personal bodyguard. Will O’Shea prove he has what it takes to satisfy Bond -- both in and out of the bedroom?

Amen to Love

Turning the key, but leaving it in place, he reached with the gloved hand and pulled the door down. The viper struck, locking its fangs into the glove. Reaching in with the tongs, he pulled the rest of the angry snake out of the box, placed it, still clamped to the glove, neatly in the can, snapped the lid on and secured the latches. He replaced the can in the transport and tossed in the tongs.


“Great job, and thanks for saving my life.” Bond felt his shoulders relax but his headache surge.


“Amazes me every time how fast he does that,” Wilson said.


“I’ll relocate this fellow to another mountain range where he can do his job for the ecology,” the control officer said. “They’ll be hibernating soon, so this one was a little sluggish.”


“Sluggish? It locked onto your glove like greased lightning.”


“Which is another reason we’re glad you called. Have a great day,” he said. He leaned out his window as he drove away. “You’re lucky we don’t have copperheads in California.”


Chapter 23