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

“No.” They entered the downtown area and he stopped at a light. “Speaking of which, now that we’re definite about Pablo Jimenez, do you know more about him you haven’t told me?”

Her profile was classic, with high cheekbones and long lashes, her curtain of silky hair caught up in a low ponytail. He lov—appreciated—her beauty no matter what she wore, whether or not she had makeup on. This morning she’d gone barefaced. It was hard to keep from reaching out, touching her cheek, her throat. His fingers knew every inch of her skin by heart. She’d dressed in the same clothes as yesterday but somehow still appeared fresh.

She shook her head. “I’d like more information on Jimenez for my story, but my priority has been getting to the witnesses who can verify Charlie’s wrongful imprisonment, along with others whose lives have been ruined by similar tactics. It’s finally official, then. Jimenez is the one who sent the strangler to find me.”

“Jimenez must be reading your social media, Dominique. I noticed you didn’t tag your location but we’re dealing with smart crooks. I hate to admit it, since it’s my job to keep you safe, but given enough time, they’ll find you wherever you are. You can’t provoke him anymore, not while I’m in charge of your safety. It’s as reckless as showing up to a gunfight without a weapon.”

“Good thing I agree with you on this point. Otherwise we’d get into another argument, Stanton. Remember our old motto that we each do our respective jobs and stay out of the other’s?”

“The problem with that is that you’re my job right now.”

Her eyes narrowed but he couldn’t engage in a stare-down as the light changed. He thought he caught a low growl and hid his smile. No matter what, he got Dominique. They were exceptional at pushing each other’s buttons.

He pulled into the station and parked in the only empty spot on the modest lot.

“They’re always busy,” she murmured to herself.

“Grave Gulch is a decent-sized place.”

“With big problems.” She reached for the door handle and he leaned over and placed his hand on her arm.

“Wait. Always wait for me to open the door.”

She turned to him. “I’m sorry. I forgot.” Her breath hitched, lips parted, her tongue flashing behind her white teeth. He breathed in her scent, free from her designer perfume; he had the gift of smelling her unique scent of sultry sweetness that he associated with waking up in bed together. Her eyes shone with a question he wasn’t willing to answer, and she sure as heck wasn’t verbalizing. They were too close. The space between them was several inches but it was as if she were pressed up against him again, and he was about to kiss her full lips.

“I’ll be right there.” He turned and let himself out of the car before he did something catastrophic. The worst part was that for those intense seconds he’d been thinking nothing about her security and only about what they’d lost. Thrown away.

But regrets weren’t part of this security detail. Only keeping her alive was.

* * *

Dominique couldn’t recall a time she’d seen GGPD so busy. It wasn’t as if it was ever quiet here. It took longer than usual to find an officer who could take her report. After she’d gotten past reception, Stanton had left for her apartment. It should feel freeing to be away from his constant scrutiny. Next to him she always had the sense that while he was alert to any threats, he didn’t miss the smallest reaction on her part. Yet instead of relief, all that was left in his absence was a forlorn emptiness. How could this be? She’d done just fine without him for two years, and after only twenty-four hours, she was dependent on him?

It’s because your life has been upended. First getting jumped, then shot at. It’ll pass.

She was asked to wait in the break area, where she helped herself to a cup of tea and scanned her emails and texts. A quick search in databases subscribed to by the Gazette confirmed what Stanton already told her about Pablo Jimenez and the cartel. They’d been poisoning Grave Gulch for months, leading up to the current onslaught of opioid-related crimes and circumstances in her beloved town. Stanton’s DEA source also verified that her social media posts about GGPD corruption, her declaration to seek justice for Charlie’s death, had triggered a reaction. Pablo Jimenez prided himself on having ironclad control over illicit drug flow into Michigan and remaining anonymous locally—until now. Dominique’s overt inquests into the cartel and its connections had hit a sore spot. Jimenez must have slipped up with his communications or whereabouts. The report she read indicated that his sloppiness had allowed DEA agents to ascertain his identity.

But Jimenez was still at large. Drugs remained on the street, and citizens of Grave Gulch were dying from fentanyl overdoses. There weren’t enough police or EMTs to get to every OD in time, with Narcan.

As further fuel in an already combustible scenario, separate social media accounts were calling for an inquest into GGPD activity pertaining to forensic evidence. No wonder Stanton was protective of his sister.

“Dominique. Long time no see.” As if conjured by her thoughts, GGPD Chief Melissa Colton spoke from a few feet away. Dominique put her phone in her coat pocket and stood. She quelled her nerves with a deep breath. Melissa wasn’t about to engage in girl talk with her.

“Chief Colton. I’m here to see an officer, file a report.”

Melissa nodded. “I know why you’re here. You can file it in a bit. Come with me first.” She turned and led the way to her office, a modest space with enough room for her desk and two chairs. “Have a seat.”

Sharp blue eyes the same color as Stanton’s focused on her. “You always go for the tough stories, don’t you?” Melissa’s slight grin eased the accusation, but not by much.

“It’s my job. People deserve to know the