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

to not go anywhere, not with Blanchard or Jimenez or anyone. But Jimenez threatened Stanton’s life, leaving her no choice. Plus, the tip of his knife was pressing against her ribs through the bodice. The way Jimenez was leaning into her, she’d be surprised if her skin hadn’t been pierced. At least she wasn’t feeling anything deeper.

“Where are we going?” She spoke for the mic. Stanton and the others would be able to at least follow them. Maybe, if they were lucky, someone would get there ahead of them.

“Oh, I can’t say, sweetheart. How do I know you’re not wired?” He viciously pulled at her bodice, yanking her up onto her tiptoes as peered down inside at her bare skin, her breasts. She held her breath. If he saw the mic on the underside—

“Nice view, querida, but better for you that you’re not mic’ed up.” He pressed her bodice back against her chest, hard, knocking her backward a few steps before Jimenez grabbed her and pulled her back to standing. She glared at him as the imprint of his hand made her want to scream, to kick, to rage. Amazing how a small piece of stainless steel aimed at her liver could keep her from acting.

“I’m the one you want. Leave the rest out.” She didn’t want to draw attention to Stanton, not knowing how much Jimenez knew.

The slap came hard, across her mouth. She tasted blood.

“No one tells me what to do.” He motioned at Blanchard. “Frisk her. Now!”

She endured the humiliation of being felt up her front by the slimy man.

“Not her top, you fool. Her legs. Make sure she doesn’t have a weapon.” Jimenez’s forehead shone with perspiration, his tone impatient. Great. Not only was she facing a psychopathic drug kingpin, but he was getting annoyed by his minion. Blanchard’s calloused, dirty fingers scaled her legs under the billowing skirt, and she held her breath as he found the holster and retrieved the handgun with a satisfied smirk. She fought to not give one back to both of them, as Blanchard hadn’t noticed the phone in the concealed pocket. Probably didn’t realize such a fancy dress could have pockets.

A car moved in her peripheral vision and Jimenez turned her around to face forward. A black SUV with blacked-out windows stopped at the bottom of the platform’s stairs.

“Get in the car.” He pressed the knife into the crucial space above the small of her back, right over her kidneys. The man had a thing for vital organs.

Every instinct warred with what she had to do if she was to have a chance to keep Stanton alive. Getting in the vehicle was all but a warrant for her death, but she couldn’t risk Stanton’s life, too. Getting into Jimenez’s SUV was her only choice. She had complete faith that Stanton would use every available resource to save her.

As she was stuffed into the back of the SUV’s hatchback, she felt the weight of the phone on her thigh and risked a look back to where Stanton had been. One last connection to help her through.

He was gone.

* * *

Stanton was on his last shred of sanity. His only reprieve was the fact that both Troy and David had vehicles and were following Jimenez’s. The DEA agent was lagging behind because he’d been positioned inside, and Stanton had to wait for Troy to run out of where he’d hidden and get his car. The other officers were scrambling to follow, and they all relied on Dominique’s phone’s information. The SUV she’d been taken in was out of sight, through the copse of trees that lined portions of the property. It felt like years when Troy pulled up to where Stanton had concealed himself. He jumped into the passenger seat. Troy floored it before Stanton got the door closed.

“We can’t lose her.” He watched the map on his phone. He and Dominique had synced GPS systems. She was a blinking dot about a mile away on the drive that circumvented the resort. “Stay on this road. He’s a mile ahead of us, driving around the grounds on the access road. What the hell is he doing?”

“We’re good. You’ve still got comms with her, right?” Troy expertly drove at top speed along the graveled path.

“She still has her phone but can’t talk or they’ll know. Wait...she’s texting!” He stared at the jumping dots, willing words to form.

Locked in back of car. Blacked out back here. Impossible to see where I’m going or what they’re doing. Partition between me and them. Heard gunshot. Think he killed Blanchard.

Exultation urged him to not give up, to keep the belief they’d get through this. That somehow he’d help her, because he sure hadn’t done her any favors by not being in the kitchen when she’d needed him.

Are you okay? He’d seen the blade dip into her dress and prayed it hadn’t broken her skin or worse.

I’m good. I lo—

Her text cut off and he switched to the map. “They’ve stopped. They’re at the resort’s beach—here, turn right—and the location looks like, like...” His heart stopped for several beats, and he struggled to breathe. He didn’t want any of his organs to work, not if what he was seeing was true. The pulsing red dot indicated that Jimenez had driven onto the resort’s infamous pier, used for romantic wedding shots.

“What is it?” Troy’s professional edge cut through Stanton’s fear.

“It looks like she’s in the middle of the lake. In the water.” Alone with Pablo Jimenez. The man who’d put a hit out on her was going to make good on the threat himself.

* * *

Dominique felt the car stop. She prepared for the back hatch to open. She was on her back, her legs poised. When it lifted, she waited for Jimenez to move. When his hands reached forward under the hatch she reared into a back arch and kicked at him with all her might. One of her feet landed in his face but his surprised