Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Carol Ericson (short books to read TXT) 📖

“Loving someone completely isn’t about control.” The marshal stood, turning toward the door. Setting one hand on the handle, he faced her. “It’s about trusting them with your weaknesses—your mistakes—and having the guts to accept what comes next.”

Watson wrenched open the door and disappeared into the hallway.

Love wasn’t about control. The words echoed in her head as Remi pulled back the sheets and set her bare feet on the cold tile. She peeled off the blood pressure cuff from around her arm, the Velcro too loud in her ears, and ripped the sticky monitors from her skin. Leaving the mess of tubes and wires in the bed, she went to the window. Watson had been right. She’d spent every day of her life since the fire determined to prove that emotions, weaknesses and mistakes hadn’t affected her climb out of the past, and she’d paid the physical, mental and emotion price in return.

Her family was gone because she hadn’t been strong enough to pull them from the fire. The New Castle Killer had escaped because she hadn’t been intelligent enough to stay ahead of him. A serial killer had nearly murdered her entire investigative team because she hadn’t been brave enough to face her mistakes.

But Dylan had made her feel like...she was enough.

She’d tried to keep him at an emotionally safe distance, but the truth was she needed him. More than she’d ever needed anyone in her life. To surprise her with mac and cheese, to take away the nightmares, to force her to break through the numbness and unshoulder the weight she’d carried all these years. He’d witnessed her weaknesses and embraced them for what they were: part of her. And despite her parting words when she’d suspended him, she trusted him.

Remi discarded the gown and dressed. After collecting both badges from the bench beneath the window, she ignored the slight dampness of her pants and boots and left the room.

Dylan had taken on one of the most dangerous killers in the history of the country to protect her. She wasn’t sure she could ever repay him, but he deserved to know about the good he’d done for Del Howe’s and Tad Marrow’s victims. The families would have justice. They’d have closure. They could move on with their lives, and it was time for her to do the same.

Reed turned from his position beside what she assumed to be Dylan’s hospital room door as she approached. A deep laceration across his brow had been stitched—most likely with Reed’s own two hands—but a few drops of blood remained on the collar of his superhero T-shirt peeking out from beneath his Kevlar vest. “Looking good, Chief. All the blood is gone.”

“Can’t say the same for you.” She pointed to the stains as she stopped in front of the door.

“Camille is bringing me a new one as soon as she finishes up photographing the scene for the bureau.” Chiseled cheekbones and boyish blue eyes radiated pure adoration at the mention of his witness-turned-fiancée. “Seems they were so impressed with her work tracking down and photographing what was left of The Carver’s victims, they want her to join their team full-time for this case. She’ll get to travel again and use her photography for something good. Just like she wanted.”

“I don’t blame them for wanting to keep her on. She’s an impressive woman.” To have a passion destroyed by a serial killer’s obsession to becoming one of the most sought after serial crime scene photographers in the county took guts, and Remi couldn’t help but admire Reed’s support and admiration for the woman he loved.

She set her hand on the door leading into Dylan’s room. Dylan had used her and the USMS to solve the New Castle Killer case, but he’d never questioned her innocence in Del Howe’s death. He’d followed her every lead, believed in her, supported her. Whether he’d done it to advance his own investigation, she didn’t know, but there was only one way to find out. “Well, whatever you two need—days off to travel with her, transferring to a new district if they want her in DC—let me know.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Chief,” Reed said. “None of us are. We’re a team. You, me, Foster, Watson and Cove. Where you go, we go. Besides, who are you going to have to save when we’re all getting picked off by a psychotic killer looking for revenge if we’re gone?”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Reed. Even if I wish you had an off button I could hit sometimes.” She caught sight of Beckett Foster headed down the hall, two coffees in hand.

The fugitive recovery expert nodded, handing one cup off to Reed before he offered her the second. Circles had deepened under his eyes. Another case of sleep deprivation brought on by a tiny human. “Figured I find you here instead of obeying your doctor’s orders to take it easy. Coffee, black.”

“Thanks. For everything.” The warmth penetrated through her foam cup and into her palms, but it wasn’t anywhere close to the heat she craved from the man on the other side of the door. She had her team’s backs, and they had hers, but right then Remi wanted more. “We wouldn’t have been able to take down Tad Marrow without either of you, but now, if you don’t mind, I’m far more interested in the deputy on the other side of this door than either of you.”

She pushed into Dylan’s room.

“GOING SOMEWHERE?” THAT VOICE. Her voice. It penetrated through him, more determined than ever to reach past the pain and soothe the rough edges left behind by their last conversation.

The muscles down his spine constricted one by one. Dylan hiked his jeans around his waist, careful of the new set of stitches and gauze in his side. Jagged shards of pain sliced into muscle and stole the air from his lungs. He leveraged his weight into his hand against the end of the bed frame. Facing