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

grunt of pain held no satisfaction for her, not as long as she had to fight for her life. She hadn’t been able to finish the text to Stanton, because the car had stopped and she wasn’t about to let Jimenez haul her out like a sack of potatoes.

Using his momentary confusion, she slid out and righted herself, and ran for her life. One step, two, three—

She came to a dead halt as something stopped her midstride, so violently she fell flat down, her hands catching her. Splinters dug into her palms as she realized he’d stepped on the long skirt, trapping her. The dock was under her hands, her knees, water surging around in the bay that the venue used for photo ops. Was this how it was going to end for her? Gutted and tossed off the pier?

Two boots were on either side of her as the kingpin crouched over her. She was on her stomach, on her elbows. She could buck up, try to hit him in the privates with her head—

“Turn. Over.” The cold steel of a different weapon—a gun—at her temple. And he still had that knife, because he flashed it in front of her eyes. “Now!” he growled and she slowly, methodically, got to all fours, trying to figure out how to get on her feet. She could dive off the pier, hope his aim was awful and that she’d be pulled out of the icy depths in time. The sounds of slamming doors reached her and she knew that at least she wasn’t alone. But she never wanted Stanton to witness her death at the hands of this cruel, sick man. As she attempted to stand, though, her hair was painfully pulled as Jimenez flipped her over onto her back. She was vulnerable, staring up at him.

Astride her, Jimenez leaned in and she felt his breath on her face. He had a weapon pointed between her eyes and a knife at her rib cage, and in a moment of horrifying clarity she understood what he was doing. If Stanton or the other officers shot at him, he’d collapse atop her, stabbing her to death, even if he didn’t fire a bullet in her brain before he gasped his last.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least tell me why you did it.”

“Why does anyone do anything? Grave Gulch is mine, my area. Charlie Hamm was like all the other dealers who got a case of the guilts over what they’d done. So he tried to turn my best dealers around. That was his first mistake. He should have shut up and been glad he’d only gotten years.”

“So you paid Blanchard to lie on the stand about Hamm?”

“Of course I did.”

“Where’s Blanchard now?”

“I didn’t find him useful any longer. Much like you.” The barrel pressed deeper in her skull and she knew he wouldn’t be able to crouch like this forever.

“You’ll never get away with it. You’re going to be caught.”

“No, querida. You can’t see it, but there’s a skimmer craft awaiting me at the end of this pier. I’ll be in Canada sipping on cerveza for lunch, before your body is cold. Before the fish finish you off.”

She let him talk, and in the one instant he glanced up and looked down the pier, presumably at his escape boat, she made the move of her life as she lifted her leg up and kicked him as hard as she could in his privates. At the same time, she pushed at his arm, moving the knife blade the precious inches that allowed her to twist to the side without getting stabbed.

Caught by surprise, he teetered on one foot, still holding the gun and knife, one in each hand. Dominique shoved against his chest with all her might, prepared to be dragged into the lake with him. But a gunshot rang out, and she saw his shoulder jerk. The knife blade was so sharp it cut through her skirt in a perfect arc, and took yards of fabric with Jimenez as he plunged into the lake. She scrambled to her feet and ran back toward the beach, toward the man at the end of the pier who ran toward her, gun in hand.

Stanton.

* * *

“Get down!” Stanton yelled, his relief that Jimenez had been hit and that Dominique had broken free short-lived as the man surfaced and leveled his weapon on her. Stanton stopped, fired his second bullet for the day.

Gunfire rent the air, throwing chunks of the wooden pier airborne. Stanton ran. There was no way to be certain that the fire was friendly, and there was nothing he could do if they were surrounded by cartel shooters. He had to get to Dominique.

Dominique wasn’t going to stop for anything, either, as she barreled toward him.

More gunfire, but this time he saw Jimenez fall backward, clutching the hand that had held the gun. Pounding steps behind him, the other officers moving in to apprehend the kingpin. The splash when Jimenez hit the water, the same water he’d planned to dump Dominique’s body in.

Dominique.

He stopped in his tracks, allowed it to sink in that she wasn’t dead. She’d made it.

No thanks to you.

He’d put her life at risk.

“Stanton!” His name, spoken by her, the sweetest gift. He held up his hands to stop her; he didn’t deserve to hold her ever again. But when she wrapped her arms around him, his own mirrored hers and he held as tight as he could without crushing her.

“Dom.”

“Oh my heavens, I thought I’d never get to see you again.” She sobbed against his chest and he sank his face into her tangled locks, breathed in the scent of her. He wasn’t worthy of her but he couldn’t stop from surrendering to the embrace.

“You made it, babe.”

She pulled back. “No, Stanton, we made it.”

* * *

Stanton’s eyes shuttered the moment she said we. His body tensed, and the warmth she’d clung to disappeared when he took a step back.