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

He helped her to her feet and put his hands on her head, tilted it to one side and then the other, ran his fingertips over her throat. She batted his inspection away and made to walk out the door of the crusty building. But her wobbling legs betrayed her and if not for his guiding arm, she’d have fallen.

He swore under his breath and pulled her close, encasing her in his arms. It wasn’t a bear hug or a greeting, but something to help ground her and convey that she was safe, not alone.

“Stanton, I’m okay. Really.” She spoke with the same raspy voice into his shoulder, involuntarily inhaling the spicy masculine scent that was proprietary to Stanton. It was as though his very essence held the elixir for all that ailed her. The bruises that would soon begin to throb, the constant quest to get the best story, to find justice for Charlie. The long lonely nights since they’d broken up.

No.

She pushed against his chest and refused to meet his gaze again. Not yet.

“I’m ready to leave now. By myself. Feel free to finish whatever you came here for. Why are you here, by the way?”

“I believe ‘thank you’ is a customary response in these situations.” His crisp enunciation, the inflection of gentle mocking in his maddening baritone, triggered a waterfall of emotions and memories that she wasn’t in any place to handle. Not after being so brutally accosted.

“Sorry, yes, thanks so much. I’m... I’m fine.” She lifted her chin but still couldn’t meet his knowing gaze. They were on the concrete sidewalk, and the daylight seemed dimmer than it had only minutes earlier. As if they were in a black-and-white movie and the bad guys were all around. She ignored the part about the sexy man who’d saved her life. “I have to talk to—”

“You’re not talking to anyone but me until we get out of this godforsaken part of town.” He placed her arm through his bent one and urged her forward. “If you can’t manage it, be honest.” She remembered this tone of his deep voice all too well. Stanton was on a mission. He’d hoist her over his shoulder and carry her out of this derelict neighborhood without a second thought.

“Wait. I can do it myself.” She stopped and leaned on him as she took off one, then the other, shoe. “Let’s go.” Free of the treacherous heels, she still accepted his support but was able to set a much faster pace as they strode toward Main Street. Away from the danger, and her attacker.

Away from finding out who had murdered Charlie Hamm.

* * *

“Here’s my car.” Dominique pulled away from Stanton, but he held tight, keeping her walking past the black SUV. He was concerned not only about her throat and body bruises, but her feet. She’d walked five city blocks in stockings. Or whatever kind of thin socks she wore.

“We’re leaving it for now. I’ll have one of my agents pick it up later.” All he wanted was to get her into his vehicle and get them both out of here. If it was up to Stanton, Dominique wouldn’t leave his sight until he’d eliminated the threats against her.

“I only need to get inside it, to take my tote bag. I keep an extra outfit, plus workout gear. I have a pair of running shoes and socks. Let me get them. Then I’ll go with you.” Her softly mumbled response made the hackles on the back of his neck stand up. She’d been injured worse than he’d been able to assess. Nothing less would explain her agreeing to his direction.

“Where’s your bag?”

“Back seat. My wallet’s in the glove compartment.”

He set her against the trunk of a tree lining the main street while he opened the back door and retrieved her bag, then her wallet. When he straightened, she reached for the strap and he shook his head.

“I’ve got it. I’m parked here, too.” He nodded at his vehicle, a few spots behind hers. “I’ll get your car back to you within the afternoon, Dominique. It’s the least of your worries right now.” He helped her into the passenger seat of his Jeep, specially outfitted for Colton Protection. It was their bulletproof, armored, VIP vehicle. They had another SUV and two similar sedans, but he’d chosen the Jeep for this job. It had the fewest memories of his time with Dominique. Unlike one of the sedans where they’d made love, during that insanely passionate stretch of time they’d dated.

He didn’t want any distractions while he was protecting Rigo’s daughter.

“What put you here the same time as me, if you’re not following me?” Her voice was returning, though if he wasn’t bent over her, his ear so close he felt her breath, he didn’t think he’d be able to hear her as well.

“My new assignment.” He clicked the seat belt in place for her. “Hang on.” He shut her door, walked around the front of the vehicle, doing a 360-degree inspection of the street. Satisfied no one was lurking, ready to follow them, he got into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“Let me guess—your assignment is paid for by one Rigo de la Vega?”

“I haven’t even started driving, Dominique.” Her brows rose and he hated the sight of smudged lipstick on her cheek, grotesquely elongating her downturned mouth. That bastard had done that to her.

Cursing under his breath, he turned away from the distraction of her face and shifted into gear. He executed a U-turn and headed back toward downtown Grave Gulch. Taking Dominique to safer ground. Anywhere but here.

“Yes, I accepted the job from your father. He’s concerned about the threats you’ve received over your social media posts. He had every reason to be, I’d say.”

“He, you—both of you—have no right to interfere in my work.” Her voice, softened by the attack, didn’t hide her outrage. He wished he’d reached her sooner,