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

A knock at the door had them both freeze in place, until Stanton remembered Melissa’s promise. “It’s okay. It’s an officer Melissa sent.” He went to the door, and after verifying who it was, opened it. A man in civilian clothes with silvering temples walked in, and looked at them one at a time. “Ms. de la Vega, I’m Brett Shea. My K-9 partner, Ember, is in my vehicle. You may remember me from that story you did on the opioid crisis a couple of years back.”

“Of course I remember you. Please call me Dominique, Detective Shea.”

“And call me Brett.” He nodded at her before he turned back to Stanton. “Here’s what you asked for.” He handed a large, hanging garment bag to Stanton, and an even larger hanging bag to Dominique. She grasped the bag and gasped.

“What kind of clothing weighs this much?” She looked at Stanton, then Brett.

“A wedding dress,” Stanton answered. “It’s the best way for us to go in without question, without drawing attention to you.”

“That makes no sense. The bride always gets all of the attention at a wedding.”

“Yes, but it’s not what Jimenez will be expecting. They’ll assume we’re coming either dressed as guests or waitstaff. We found out the timing of the two weddings and if we arrive just ahead of the second wedding party, it’ll be assumed we’re the next couple getting hitched.” His gaze was unwavering and she’d no doubt he’d gone over all of the different scenarios in his head, and had picked what he thought was best. She trusted Stanton’s security instincts, as she knew he trusted her reporter’s hunches.

But a wedding gown?

Dominique’s gut twisted, but it wasn’t over dressing as a make-believe bride to get to the last yet most important interview for her story. It was from the painful stab of disappointment that it wasn’t a real dress—her dress, for pledging to love for the rest of her life the man looking at her with complete confidence.

* * *

Dominique sat next to Stanton in the back seat of Colton Protection’s largest SUV as they rode to the wedding venue. Detective Brett Shea was dressed in a black suit and drove, to give a more realistic impression that they were a genuine bride and groom, driven by a professional chauffeur. Brett’s K-9 partner Ember sat in the cargo area of the vehicle, her black Lab features appearing calm and sweet, but Dominique knew the dog would help take down any criminal she was instructed to. She was so grateful for Melissa’s support and made a mental note to take the GGPD chief out for a nice dinner when this all settled down.

Please, let it settle down. Because the alternative was unthinkable. But also too real, too close, to ignore. She and Stanton might not come out of today alive.

She couldn’t look at Stanton, because all it did was send her stomach into flips, ratcheting the anxiety that she was already working overtime to tamp down. Stanton wore a tuxedo as well as he wore his custom suits; he swore they helped him do his job better because they allowed for more physical movement as needed. It was as if she’d conjured this event in some twisted way, when she’d admitted to Soledad that she’d been thinking more about what it would be like to be with Stanton forever. To marry him, be his wife. Have their babies, little mini Stantons.

Wearing the frothy white dress, which fit her remarkably well for a borrowed item out of one of the GGPD officer’s closets, must have triggered some kind of subconscious thought stream of ridiculousness. Thinking about being with Stanton forever was one thing, but to picture that their children would be exactly like him, or her, was beyond a dream. It was a certain definition of insanity.

His hand covered hers and he squeezed. “It’s going to work out, Dom. Trust me.”

Unable to not look at him any longer, she took him in. He was still outrageously handsome, the crisp white shirt and black tie complementing his skin and the purposeful scruff at his jaw. His eyes sparkled with focus.

“I do trust you. It’s myself I’m worried about. What if we can’t find Blanchard?” The plan was to corner the lying witness while he worked this afternoon, during the preparations for the second ceremony. Blanchard had insisted they arrive at four o’clock, in between the two weddings and a full two hours before the second ceremony was scheduled. He’d told them to meet him near the pier that stretched out into Lake Michigan. Because the resort was in a cove of sorts, it didn’t have the concerns of rough waters that other buildings that hugged the shoreline did. Instead, they were going to corner him in the resort’s commercial kitchen.

“You’ll do what you need to. And don’t hesitate to use your weapon.” His reminder of the handgun holstered to her thigh in lieu of the traditional garter made her smile.

“We’ve never done anything the easy way, have we?” She couldn’t help but grin and was delighted when he smiled back.

“No. No, we don’t.” He squeezed her hand again and then let go, turning his gaze to his window. “How far out are we, Brett?”

“Another ten minutes.”

It was time for them to focus on their plan of action.

* * *

The first wedding party was nowhere in sight when they pulled in front of the employee entrance. The DEA agent working with them today was already inside the venue, posing as a photographer, taking pre-event shots. The same agent had ascertained that a man matching the description of Johnny Blanchard was indeed working as a dishwasher in the large commercial kitchen. As of now, there was no hint of other cartel members on the premises. No dark figures skulking about, no whisper of drugs available for a good price.

“We can wait here as long as you need us to, Stanton.” Brett turned to look at each of