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

give a flip about a town of fewer than forty thousand people in Michigan, for heaven’s sake. We’re small potatoes for them.” She ripped a paper towel from the roll he kept on the counter and wiped her mouth. “It’s Jimenez whose pride’s been stepped on. He thought he’d get away with silencing Charlie, and now Blanchard. And yes, me. He’s not going to stop me.”

“You really believe Charlie was murdered by them, right? If that’s true, then you have a good idea of how resourceful Jimenez and his gang are. No leads, no witnesses are left behind. You’re trying to disrupt that. You’re a bug they’re going to step on.”

“A bug?” Her brow rose, and for the first time in over two years he glimpsed her sense of humor. How he’d missed her low, throaty laugh. How it rumbled across a room, echoed in his chest, wrapped around his heart.

Get a grip, man.

He nodded, scraped his bowl in the sink, rinsed both of their dishes, stacked them in the dishwasher. “A mere pest. Pablo Jimenez doesn’t tolerate anyone looking into his business.” He knew firsthand, as CP had provided a bodyguard last month for a witness to a fentanyl drug sale by one of Jimenez’s guys. Said witness and his former client ended up going into federal protective custody.

“You know something you’re not telling me.”

“I know a lot of things, Dominique, but they’re irrelevant to what we’ve got to do to get through the next days.”

“I won’t have this story in a matter of days, Stanton. Don’t kid yourself. It’s already taken me weeks to get this far, and I’ve been doing all the background work on the cartel for the last two years.”

Interesting. It was the second time she refused to refer to their breakup. Yet, like him, it seemed she used it as a reference point. He focused on the mission. To dwell on Dominique’s motives for anything was a direct road to unnecessary pain. He’d sworn optional misery off after she’d left and he’d taken a long while to glue himself back together.

Are you whole again?

“You ready?” He prepared to leave, but when she straightened, leaned forward, all he saw was the countless times he’d kissed her over this counter. That one time, they’d ended up atop the granite, naked. Did the same mental videos play in her mind?

“Ready for what, Stanton?” She shot him a wary glance that didn’t match the way she licked her bottom lip. Yeah, the attraction was still very much mutual. A small consolation when there was nothing they could do about it. Not yet, anyhow.

“We need to leave now if you’re going to give your statement before close of business.” He glanced at his smartwatch. Hard to believe that in two hours the working day was over for a good portion of Grave Gulch. Not that he worked banker’s hours—providing security was a round-the-clock gig. “Get your bag and we’ll go now.”

“On it.” She slid off the island chair but it wasn’t with her usual grace. His bones ached for her as she took her time, held the edge of the island for a moment to make sure she had her balance. More telling were her hands, as they still visibly trembled, albeit slightly. He had to give her credit. She’d had a lousy day but was holding up like a champ.

“Let’s take the elevator to the parking garage.” He’d prefer the stairs but it’d be too hard on her. The door to the utility lift opened and he ushered her inside. It was spacious and bare, normally used by delivery services and the building doorman when a larger piece of mail had to be brought up.

“It would be easier to get into your car on the street. But I get the extra precaution.” She moved a stray strand of her inky black hair from her eyes, tucked it behind her ear. A deep blue sapphire earring winked in the bright elevator light. His breath caught. He’d given her the earrings for her December birthday. Right after they’d started dating. He was inexplicably thrilled that she still wore a gift from him. Warmth rushed from his scalp, to his chest, pushed into his groin.

The thug who’d hurt Dom.

He conjured the memory of the man to keep from becoming visibly aroused. It had the desired effect but also reignited his anger, and not a little bit of despair. Would he ever get over her?

Do you really want to know?

The elevator dinged at the building’s lowest level and opened to the garage’s concrete floor.

He motioned for her to wait as he exited and cleared the area. There were security cameras on his vehicles and he’d checked them from the apartment before they left, on a phone app. The garage was well lit, clean, and there were no signs of bad guys. No matter, he’d feel better once he had Dominique safely in a car and they were en route to the police station.

“Okay, good to go.” He held out his hand to her. It was an automatic gesture, but not one he’d do with a typical client. When she slipped hers into his, he vowed to stop overanalyzing himself, his thoughts. A lot of things were different when it came to guarding her. It didn’t matter as long as the end result was the same: Dominique remained unharmed.

As they walked toward one of several CP vehicles stored in the parking garage, he allowed the naturalness of being with her sync with his protection skills. The mark of a good bodyguard wasn’t how big or badass they were, although that helped. No, it was being able to accept one’s surroundings and utilize them to your advantage. As long as Dominique trusted him enough to stay by his side and follow his lead, he’d keep her safe.

“Here.” He held open the passenger door of a low-slung sports car and waited as she got in. Dang it, he should have considered her aches and bruises