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

Remi wiped sleep from her eyes before attempting to roll off the mattress with some kind of grace. Instead, she rolled straight onto her shoulder holster, her weapon and her boots neatly waiting for her beside the makeshift bed. Her overnight bag packed with a few changes of clothes, toiletries, extra ammunition and a first-aid kit had been brought into the room, too. She stared at the strap coiling over the edge of the bag, feeling as though she’d made an important connection with the case, with who might’ve had something to do with Del Howe’s murder, but she couldn’t remember. One of the downsides of pushing herself into exhaustion instead of listening to her body when it needed to rest—damaged short-term memory.

She reached for her bag, unpacked a change of clothes and collected her holster and weapon from the floor. Slowly, she opened the bedroom door. Movement registered from down the hall, and she caught a glimpse of brown hair, bare muscular shoulders and a mountain of rock-solid deputy marshal. Dylan. He’d followed her to the safe house last night, brought her dinner, worked through the files Watson had uncovered.

Her mouth dried as he dropped to his hands and feet and counted off a series of pushups. Muscles she’d never known existed rippled across his back in a hypnotizing dance of strength, and she found she couldn’t look away. He’d changed over the past few years. His dry sense of humor hadn’t, but physically, he’d become rougher around the edges, less approachable to anyone who didn’t know him well, more aggressive and...bigger. Tempting.

“Didn’t anyone teach you it’s not polite to stare?” Dylan hopped to his feet and turned to face her, sweat glistening down his chest and abdominals. Shadows carved defined ridges across his midsection as he reached for a nearby towel. A smile broke out across his handsome face as he wiped droplets from his hairline, and her gut twisted. From the smile she hadn’t been able to forget or the fact she’d been caught watching him, she didn’t know.

Remi tightened the grip on her holster to counter the heat flaring up her neck and into her face. “I figured it was fair game considering you removed my boots and holster after I passed out last night.”

His laugh intensified the heat simmering under her skin. He brushed the hair hanging over his forehead back and collected his discarded T-shirt from the floor. He’d changed into sweats while she was asleep, leaving no doubt he’d stayed the night. “To be fair, you weren’t unconscious yet. You were still talking, and I told you exactly what I was doing.”

“Did I...” She cleared her throat while trying to sound casual. There’d been times—nights—when she’d screamed herself awake. Times she’d rather not reveal to a man who used to share her bed. “Did I say anything?”

“You said a lot of things. At one point, you recited the alphabet backward, and while I was unlacing your boots, you said you were going to kick me in my perfect face.” Dylan tossed the towel then threaded both arms into the sleeves and stretched the T-shirt over his head. “Then you accused Sergeant Nguyen of having a connection to the New Castle Killer investigation.”

“Sergeant—” The fog lifted, and a soft gasp escaped her control. “The background checks we ran during the initial investigation. I remember that same spelling coming up when we were trying to contact next of kin on one of the victims.” She closed her eyes, trying to sort through the hundreds of facts she’d archived at the back of her mind, to those first few days of the case. “Tony Rasmussen. He was half Vietnamese. Most of his mother’s side of the family had adopted Americanized last names when immigrated to the states, which made them harder to track down during the initial stages of the investigation, but there were a few who’d kept tradition. Sergeant Nguyen was one of Tony’s uncles.”

Could he be the killer? Had he discovered the identity of the man responsible for his nephew’s death and killed him? Had he used his access as a Gresham PD officer to hunt and take his revenge on anyone involved in the case then used that same power to accuse her of Del Howe’s murder? Was the sergeant she’d come to know these past few years the reason this was happening?

“I ran a background check on Daniel Nguyen while you were asleep.” Dylan pointed to the kitchen table, out of sight, and headed that direction.

The corner of the hallway blocked her sightline of him, and Remi used those few seconds of isolation to take a deep breath. She hadn’t allowed herself to feel much of anything after relocating to Oregon, but in those short moments Dylan had been unaware of her presence, she’d remembered what it’d been like to feel those muscles under her touch. Remembered how...safe she’d felt the times they were together, and a piece of her had craved that sensation again. Wouldn’t happen. Not now. Never again. Not only because she was his superior, and a relationship with a subordinate would reflect poorly on her career, but because he was the link to a past better left forgotten.

Remi forced one foot in front of the other until she rounded the corner, and their makeshift murder board came into sight. Surprise filtered through the drugging haze of sleep as she took in the progress he’d made in the few short hours she’d been asleep. A complete set of pins had been set in the map that indicated the locations of each murder with dates written clearly in black marker. The butt of her weapon brushed against her calf as she closed the distance between her and the map. Distinct blue lines connected the locations, a trail of where the killer had been and where he’d gone next, dating all the way back to the first murder and