Free Chasing Tinsel (Miranda Vaughn Mysteries) by Ellie Ashe

I’m sure the paper is good for the money.” She paused, recalling the layoff rumors that had been circling lately. “Pretty sure.”  
    Ben put an arm around her shoulder and steered her through the courtyard and down the concrete steps to the street. He leaned toward her. She felt his breath on her ear and hated that the intimacy wasn’t altogether terrible.  
    “This source you’re protecting,” he said in a low voice. “Does this have anything to do with your coverage of the stadium contractor?”
    How the hell could he know that? Her head jerked up and she met his gaze, but didn’t say anything.  
    If only he weren’t so good looking. It would be easier to hate him.  
    “Did you notice the couple of goons in the courtroom gallery?” he asked.
    “No, I didn’t,” she said. She scanned the street. Just normal courthouse people—jurors on a mid-morning break, attorneys with briefcases, some clerks sitting on the benches across the street drinking coffee, a bike messenger speeding toward them. Nothing out of the usual. Certainly no goons.
    As she watched, the bike messenger veered across traffic. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but he seemed to be looking right at her. Lindsey glanced around, but she and Ben were the only people on this side of the street. The messenger took advantage of a gap in traffic and crossed the street, bearing down on them, one hand off the handlebars.
    “Oh, shit!” Ben pushed Lindsey out of the way just as the messenger took a swipe at her leather bag. Lindsey tumbled between two parked cars as the messenger’s grasping hand caught the edge of the strap and tugged. She hugged the bag to her chest, wresting it from the messenger’s hand. Her hands full, Lindsey couldn’t break her fall and hit the curb with her shoulder, her head snapping to the side and smacking the sidewalk. A flash of pain radiated from her temple to her shoulder.  
    The bike hit the side of a car with a thud and a long scrape of metal on metal.  
    “Oh, fu—” The man’s muttered curse was cut off as his midsection met the car’s side-view mirror.
    “You okay?” Ben asked. Their legs had tangled on the way down and the weight of his body pressed her into the concrete. It was much less fun than the last time they were in this position.  
    “Yes.” Her vision had blurred from the pain in her shoulder and head, but the sound of his voice brought her to her senses. “I think so.”  
    She looked around, but the bike messenger was gone. She wiggled her fingers and started to stand. Her skirt was now split along the seam and a good six inches of her left thigh was now on display.  
    “I hope you’re wearing better shoes today, sweetheart,” Ben said, raising himself to a crouch. “Because we need to run.”

    A GOOD KIND OF TROUBLE
    Available May 6, 2015
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