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

driving. Good thing there hadn’t been a cop around to pull him over for speeding. That would have been embarrassing—and not just because Keara would have heard about it.

Jax ordered himself a chai latte, while the teenage girl behind the counter cooed at Patches, and then he sat at one of the cozy tables. It looked like a spot to take a date, not the sort of place you’d sit and talk about an old murder and a new bombing.

His nerves picked up again, for an entirely different reason, as Keara entered the restaurant. She spotted him across the room, a hesitant smile tipping her lips before she turned and ordered herself a drink.

Then she was walking toward him and Jax couldn’t stop himself from cataloging all the differences from last night. Her hair was tied up in its typical tight bun and as she unzipped her coat, he discovered she was wearing her police uniform. Everything about her—including the serious look on her face—broadcasted that today was all business.

He tried to respond in kind, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her lips. Couldn’t keep his mind from revisiting the feel of those lips against his, the taste of her mouth as she’d kissed him. The sudden desire for a big glass of cabernet filled him.

When he dragged his gaze back to her eyes, they were slightly narrowed. The hands around her mug whitened at the knuckles. Her gaze drifted to his mug and then a smile quirked her lips. “Are you drinking chai?”

“Yeah.”

That smile quivered again, making him wonder if he’d missed something, and then Keara cleared her throat, her expression turning serious.

“So there are no other bombs with this symbol?” she demanded. “Not anywhere in the country over the past seven years?”

Woof! Patches went to Keara and nudged her, making her reposition her mug to prevent her drink from spilling.

From the smell that wafted toward him, she’d opted for hot chocolate. He tried not to wonder what that would taste like on her lips.

“Sorry, Patches,” Keara said, taking a seat and petting his dog.

Finally, she turned back to him with raised eyebrows.

“No. And when it comes to bombs, since the FBI has the biggest lab in the country dedicated to bomb evidence, we probably would have seen it. Unless—”

“Unless the other bombs exploding destroyed the symbols,” Keara finished for him. “Maybe we were never intended to see that symbol at all. Maybe that’s why Rodney had to kill Juan, because even if Rodney didn’t kill Celia, the crime was now connected to the symbol.”

“Killing Juan doesn’t change the case file,” Jax reminded her.

“No. But Juan was the only one showing any interest in Rodney,” Keara shot back, her expression as desperate as it was determined.

Jax stared at her, dread sinking to his stomach. This tenuous connection between the murder in Texas and the bomb had reignited Keara’s hope that her husband’s case could be solved. Based on the way she’d responded to the symbol the first time she’d seen it, that was something she’d given up on until now.

This new chance could be making her see connections where there weren’t any. Was his hope that she could move on making him do the same?

If so, were they both fooling themselves that they could possibly solve Juan’s cold case?

SHE NEEDED TO keep her distance from Jax.

Maybe not physically, since he was helping her investigate the bombing—and hopefully her husband’s murder. That was giving her access to information she’d never be able to get from the FBI otherwise. So simply staying away from him wasn’t an option. But separating herself emotionally was.

Sighing, Keara signed another document in the huge stack of paperwork on her desk and set it in her outbox. Being chief, even in a small town, meant a lot of paperwork. It had taken her several years to get used to the amount of time she spent at her desk, rather than out in the field. A small town in a place like Alaska—with more than twenty percent as much land as the whole of the lower forty-eight, but the lowest population density anywhere in the country—meant she still had to take calls personally. That fact had made the transition easier.

Slowly, she’d gotten used to being the boss. Of maintaining a certain distance between herself and her colleagues. Of being tougher on her officers than she would have wanted in their place, because she knew how important it was not just to maintain her authority, but also to keep them safe.

It wasn’t easy. Not just the loss of the camaraderie she’d had when she was just one of the force, but also being hard on her officers. She’d even fired one, a rookie who’d had tons of promise and she’d liked personally, too. But he’d ignored direct orders, actually broken the law. Yes, he’d done it to save someone, and in his place, she might have done the same. But that didn’t matter. Not now.

She had to do whatever it took to make sure none of her officers’ spouses ever faced what she’d experienced. It was a responsibility that weighed heavily on her every day.

Still, most days she loved being a chief in Desparre. She loved the way a town known for its self-sufficient, independent citizens would pull together and look after each other when needed. And she was proud of the officers who worked for her, proud to call herself their chief.

There were definitely days when she missed being a detective. Missed working closely with a partner, unraveling a puzzle to give someone justice. She’d made the conscious choice to put that role behind her after Juan’s death had gone unsolved. But now...

She shook her head and pushed her chair back from her desk, then stood and stretched. She’d been dealing with paperwork for hours, ever since she’d left The Lodge.

Coffee with Jax and Patches had felt more like a date than a professional meeting, despite the fact that they’d only talked about