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

in combat. Yet, as long as he drew breath, she’d keep fighting to keep him alive.

Pines. Aspens. Scrub. Lichen on rocks that jutted from the earth. Ahead, she saw a trunk, splintered by a bullet. She skidded to a stop. This was where she’d mistakenly shot at Luis. Julia looked around. She recognized the area and began to retrace her steps from yesterday. The woods ended and Julia saw Darcy’s home just beyond the tree line.

The abandoned house was far from an ideal place to treat a wounded man. But she’d been inside. She knew there were at least sheets on the beds that could be used to staunch the bleeding. Maybe she’d get lucky and find a first-aid kit. A ten-year-old aspirin was still an aspirin, right? Limping up the crumbling steps, Julia kicked open the front door. Stepping into the musty room, she stopped.

Standing in the middle of the floor, with a gun in hand, was Robert Carpenter.

He said nothing, and just pulled the trigger.

* * *

Luis was familiar with the sound of gunfire. It wasn’t as loud as most people thought—like an explosion that could be felt in the teeth. It was a small noise, but it has the potency to turn a man’s bowels to liquid, leaving anyone with sense running the other way.

Luis knew that instinct wasn’t cowardice. It was all about survival.

But those who chose to protect and serve had to overcome that instinct and run directly into harm’s way.

So when Luis heard gunfire come from the old house, he sprinted across the yard, mindful that he would be an easy target. But he was more worried about Julia’s fate than his own. On the porch, Luis dropped to a knee and looked in one of the grimy windows. The interior was barely visible. Then he realized he wasn’t simply looking through years of dust, but also a haze of smoke.

The acrid stench of burning fabric filled his nose a second before he heard the first crackle of flames. Luis opened the door. Smoke leaked into the afternoon, rising to the sky.

A figure was lying facedown on the floor. It was Peter Knowles. His shoulder was shredded and covered with blood. The curtains near the window smoldered. Fire spread from a hole that had been burned through the fabric. Luis rushed into the room.

“Peter? Can you hear me?”

Nothing. His skin was the color of used paste. His lips were blue. Luis felt for a pulse. It was faint, but there.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” he said, slipping his shoulder under Peter’s abdomen. With the other man draped across his back, Luis rushed from the house.

He laid Peter in the tall grass. The man moaned. “Julia.”

Luis went cold. “Where’s Julia. What happened?”

Peter lifted a limp hand and pointed to the house. “There.”

“She’s in the house?”

Peter gripped Luis’s wrist with a strength he didn’t think a man so gravely wounded could possess. Placing Luis’s hand on his chest, he said, “You have to keep it safe.”

Luis had no idea what Peter meant. Keep what safe? He looked to the building. Orange and black flames were visible through the window. He had to get to Julia. “Julia’s in the house?” Luis asked again. “I have to get her out.”

“Take it,” said Peter. The whites of his eyes were bright red. “Keep it.”

It was then that Luis realized Peter was pressing his hand onto something in the jacket’s pocket. He reached inside and found a cellular phone. The recording device was on. “You want me to have the phone?”

Peter’s hand slipped away, and his eyes drifted closed.

“Help is coming,” said Luis as he used the fireman’s carry to get the reporter to the SUV. After setting Peter in the passenger seat, he pressed a roll of gauze to the shoulder wound. “You need to hold on for just a minute.”

Luis sprinted toward the house. A tongue of fire licked at the doorway and heat slapped him from twenty paces away. It was the stuff of nightmares, yet he didn’t have a choice. Ducking down, he rushed into the blaze.

* * *

Julia had messed up, and badly. When Robert had fired the gun and missed, she’d done two things at once: told Peter to get away and then charged at the other man. She’d managed to distract the killer long enough for Peter to hobble toward the door. She had no idea how far he’d gotten.

Because, at that same moment, Julia had bolted up the stairs.

She’d taken refuge in Darcy’s old bedroom, hoping that he would come after her and knowing that a defensive position was her best option. Sure, she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn. But she only needed to fire enough bullets to keep Robert occupied and give Peter time to escape.

The thing was, Robert hadn’t followed.

What was worse was that smoke wafted under the closed door. The floor groaned and Julia could feel heat through the soles of her shoes.

She knew that Robert was still out there, somewhere. To leave the room was to risk getting shot. To stay was to perish in the blaze.

Without a miracle, she was dead.

“Julia!”

Luis?

“Julia? Where are you?”

“Luis,” she screamed. “I’m here. Upstairs.”

The door burst open. A haze of smoke filled the room.

Robert stood on the threshold. Julia’s eyes watered as she lifted the gun and took aim.

Chuckling, Robert shook his head. Lipstick was smeared across his face, making it look like a scream. “Why do you even bother? I’ve seen you try to shoot. You can’t.”

Then she remembered Luis’s instructions. Pulling her shoulder farther across her body, she aimed again. Wrapping her finger around the trigger, she pulled.

There was a pop. A flash of light. The smirk never left Robert’s face, even as his brains painted the wall.

There were footfalls on the stairs and then Luis appeared at the doorway.

He stared at the dead body on the floor.

“What happened?”

She answered his question with one of her own. “Where’s Peter?”

“I pulled him out of the