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

sliding out of his truck. Jones sat and watched her while she got into her vehicle and started the engine. He didn’t drive away until after she’d pulled out of the employee parking lot.

After a quick fast-food run and heading back home, she found herself watching her rearview mirror to make sure no one followed her. She didn’t think anyone was, but to be sure she took a detour and drove down by the university and then took a circuitous route home.

Traffic ebbed and flowed, but she couldn’t spot another vehicle making the exact same number of turns as she. Satisfied, she finally turned onto her street, alert to any headlights behind her.

As usual, there were numerous vehicles parked in the street. Slowing, she tried to look inside each of them without being too obvious, but in the end, she felt foolish and simply went home.

After parking, she walked up to the front door amid the wonderful sound of her dog barking a joyous greeting. She let herself in, immediately locking the door behind her, before dropping down on her haunches to let Bridget greet her as if she’d been away for hours rather than a few minutes.

The house felt strangely empty and quiet. Too quiet. Carly hadn’t realized how much she’d gotten used to having Micha around.

She turned on the television, found an old movie and let it play for background noise. Though she didn’t want to be one of those kind of girlfriends, she texted Micha. Where are you? Is everything okay?

No response. No doubt he was busy. But still, how long would it take for him to text back a simple yes? She hated feeling this vulnerable, and not because she was frightened to be alone in her own home, but due to worrying about Micha’s safety.

She loved him. She’d always loved him, even when she’d believed that he’d departed this earth. Love didn’t die due to the absence of a physical body. And yes, she’d been furious and hurt that he’d allowed her to believe him dead for so long, but she could also understand his reasoning. Much of that time he’d been a prisoner, then unconscious, only to wake covered in horrific burns that to him must have seemed disfiguring. In fact, she actually found those scars beautiful. A testament to Micha’s resilience and, in the end, his ultimate survival.

She also understood that whoever was after him—or them, but she’d come to believe it was him—wanted Micha dead. A car bomb wasn’t exactly playing around. That, and the shots through her front window, had only proved the assailant didn’t care if Carly was collateral damage.

Micha hadn’t wanted her to be alone. Then why wasn’t he here with her?

Her sense of unease growing, she checked her texts. Nothing. No missed calls, no messages. Trying not to panic, she took a deep breath and dialed his number.

The call went straight to voice mail. With her stomach in knots, she left a simple message. “Call me, please.”

Something was definitely wrong. Acting on impulse, she called her brother. Jones picked up immediately, sounding apprehensive. “Is everything all right?” he asked. “Are you safe?”

“I’m fine,” she responded. “I’m just wondering if you’ve heard anything from Micha.”

“No, I haven’t. He isn’t home yet?”

“He’s not. And I haven’t been able to reach him.” Striving to sound calm, she took a deep breath. “Did he happen to mention to you where he was going or what he planned to do?”

“No, he didn’t.” Jones cleared his throat. “You know what? I’m getting bad vibes about this. Why don’t you come down to the Lone Wolf and let me keep you company until you hear from him?”

She glanced at Bridget, still snoozing in her dog bed. “I’d rather wait here.”

“You can bring your dog,” Jones said, almost as if he’d read her mind.

Momentarily, she wavered. Maybe she should go hang out at the brewery. A distraction would be wonderful right now, stop her from imagining the worst-case scenario.

But ultimately, she decided she wanted to be there when Micha walked through the door. Which she had no doubt he would. She simply needed to stop worrying.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay,” she told her brother. “With all that’s been going on, I can’t help but worry about him. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“I agree. If anyone can take care of himself, Micha can.” In the background, someone called Jones’s name. “Carly, I’ve got to go. Call me if you need anything.”

After ending the call, Carly wandered around her house. She still found it difficult to go anywhere near the front window. In her mind’s eye she could still see it shattering, shards of glass raining down to the sound of gunfire.

Shaking her head, she wandered into the kitchen. Sometimes, when she found herself stressed, it helped to bake something. Plus, she’d bet Micha would enjoy some homemade cookies or bread when he returned.

Feeling a bit better, she hummed under her breath as she got out the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies, Micha’s favorite. She could just picture how his handsome face would light up as he walked in the door to the smell of freshly made cookies.

Lost in a happy reverie of measuring and mixing, she put the first batch in the oven and poured herself a glass of wine.

Two hours later, heartsick, she tried Micha’s phone again. No answer, straight to voice mail. She sent a text just as a last-ditch effort, and then she took Bridget out and decided she might as well get ready for bed.

But after thirty minutes in bed, she still couldn’t sleep, so she abandoned the attempt and got up. Where was Micha? She had to believe he was safe. He had to be. She couldn’t lose him again.

Because he’d said she could, she called Jones, knowing he’d be at the Lone Wolf until closing time. He answered immediately. “Still all right, I hope?” he said, an undercurrent of worry behind his light tone.

“Micha hasn’t come home. And he’s not answering