Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 Karen Whiddon (best fiction books to read TXT) 📖

Seeing him had been a shock. In fact, she still hadn’t processed or sorted through all the tangled emotions that his resurrection had caused. Making love with him had been a huge mistake, a kind of knee-jerk reaction to the shocking sight and touch and feel of him. Her visceral reaction had come without thought, without reason. Now, after the fact, she understood it had been something she should never have allowed to happen. She’d need to make sure it didn’t occur again. Because she knew if she let it, she’d be risking her heart.

She’d finally gotten over losing him. Not completely—she’d begun to see such a thing only faded in small doses, with waves of grief overwhelming her unexpectedly. She’d gone from a period of being unable to function, to attending grief counseling. There, she’d learned how to claw her way out of the dark pit of despair and begun making plans to be able to face her new reality.

Now her new reality had been blown to rubble. She wasn’t sure she was emotionally equipped to deal with that kind of fallout again.

Micha seemed to think they could pick up right where they’d left off. As if he hadn’t broken her heart. She wasn’t certain she could risk feeling that way again. She didn’t think she’d survive.

Sitting at her kitchen table sipping on her drink, she tried to adjust to her new reality. It sure wasn’t easy.

A rattle and a thud outside made her go still. It seemed to have come from her backyard. Was someone trying to break into her house?

Heart pounding, she hurried into the kitchen. She double-checked the dead bolt, making sure it was locked. Staying away from the window, she stood still and listened, praying the sound didn’t come again. She’d been meaning to get a lock for that back gate and now she seriously wished she had.

Outside, the wind had picked up. Maybe that had caused the noise. She’d left her phone in the living room. She ran back and grabbed it, trying to decide whether to call 911 or Micha.

Micha? Thoroughly annoyed with herself, she had to admit having him around made her feel safe.

Another thud, louder this time. Deciding not to mess around, she dialed 911. Feeling slightly foolish, she told the dispatcher she thought someone might be trying to break into her house. They promised to send someone as soon as they could. Carly hung up, nerves still on edge. She had to fight the urge to call Micha, which annoyed her to no end. The man had barely been back in her life for half a day. She’d survived on her own for the last two years. She’d managed by herself, thank you very much. And she’d continue to do so now.

A squad car pulled up fifteen minutes later. Carly stayed inside, nervously waiting to see if they found anything. She could hear them moving around in her backyard and saw their flashlights.

Finally, they knocked on her back door. She opened it to find two of Chicago PD’s finest standing on her back stoop.

“We did a complete search of the premises, ma’am,” one of the officers said. “No intruder turned up, but we think we located the source of the noises you were hearing. We found a stray dog trying to get under your storage shed. She’s pretty emaciated. Since Animal Control is closed, we’ll send them around to pick her up in the morning, if that’s okay.”

“A stray dog?” Lately, she’d been thinking a lot about getting a dog. She’d intended to go up to the pound and pick out an older pup but wasn’t sure if her occasional twelve-hour shifts were conducive to having a pet. “Is she friendly?”

“She is,” the other officer chimed in, grinning. “I had a sandwich I’d picked up for lunch and didn’t get a chance to eat. She gulped that thing down. Maybe put some water out for her?”

“Can I see her?” Carly asked instead. Maybe this dog, a homeless stray, was meant to be hers.

“There.” The second guy pointed with his flashlight. “She’s standing right there, watching us.”

Peering into the darkness, Carly spotted a thin, black dog watching them intently, her eyes gleaming in the flashlight beam. Crouching down, acting on instinct, Carly spoke softly, attempting to call the animal over. “Come here, pretty girl,” she crooned. “Would you like to come inside out of the cold?”

To her surprise, the dog inched closer.

“I don’t have any dog food.” Distressed, Carly continued to crouch in what she hoped was a nonthreatening way. “Is it okay if I give her chicken or beef?” As the dog slunk closer, Carly could see all of the canine’s ribs and backbone. “It looks like it’s been a really long time since she had a good meal.”

“Sure. Anything healthy will help fill up her belly. Are you planning on keeping her?”

Startled, Carly look up. “I... I’ve been thinking about getting a dog, so I guess I am. Would that be allowed?”

“You’ll need to have her scanned for a microchip,” Officer One said. “You can do that at any veterinary office or you can bring her by the shelter when it opens. If there’s no chip, talk to the shelter about them letting her serve out her stray hold with you instead of there.”

“Stray hold?”

Officer Two shrugged. “Just in case someone might be looking for her. You never know.”

That made sense.

“I want to do everything by the book,” Carly said. “Thank you so much for checking everything out for me.”

“No problem.” Officer One touched his hat. “We were all sorry to hear about your father and uncle.”

Carly murmured a thank-you. Even to this day, she often found herself startled by how many people had known the two elder Coltons.

“We’ll close the gate behind us,” Officer One said. “It was open, which is how the dog got in.”

She thanked them again, standing on her back stoop while they walked away. The dog, she noticed, turned her head