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

yeah, you’re not getting rid of me, not even in the woods.” No place was safe until she had her story and GGPD had Pablo Jimenez behind bars, along with his troop of thugs.

“I have no problem with you doing your job. My father’s paid you to do it. I’m not happy about being forced to spend time with a man who belittles me and thinks I’m ‘obtuse.’”

Crap. He’d let the words fly when all he’d wanted to do was communicate that he knew how intelligent she was.

“I didn’t mean it personally.”

“Save it, Stanton. I’ve got to get back to figuring out my next steps. The sooner I get corroborating evidence that Charlie’s conviction, and death, were criminally motivated, the sooner GGPD can straighten itself out. And if we’re lucky, we’ll catch the big one.”

He didn’t have to ask her what she meant by “the big one.” His gut took a nosedive at the stark truth of the danger she’d put herself in. How many journalists were willing to go after criminal mastermind Pablo Jimenez? And why did it have to be Dominique?

Most important, why did he still care too damn much?

* * *

Dominique’s head pounded and her neck was beyond sore from the roughing up Jimenez’s hit man had imparted earlier, but nothing compared to her fury at the way Stanton so easily slipped back into his condescending tone. She knew he didn’t mean to sound so dismissive; when it came to security details, he was top in his field, without question. What was easy to see as complete arrogance was in fact his confidence. No one would want anything less from their bodyguard. But as the Michigan countryside whipped by and day turned to twilight, she couldn’t stop the sense of complete powerlessness that at once left her despondent and outraged. Not wanting Soledad to worry about her, she texted her, gave her a brief overview of her day. When her sister replied with “hang in there,” she wished she was with her now instead of facing her past with Stanton and worrying if she’d live to have a future. Since she didn’t do self-pity as a rule, she had to channel her energy into being “ticked off.”

There’s another way you used to work off your frustration with Stanton.

Heat hit her cheeks as quickly as it pooled in her midsection, then between her legs. A giggle bubbled up and she forced it back, unwilling to share any of her inner thoughts with him. It was ridiculous. She was being immature at best. Stanton was right: she could have died today, before she found justice for Charlie. The story might have been squashed right there. She kept backup, hard-copy files at the Grave Gulch Gazette, but it wouldn’t be the same if something happened to her. The reporter who dug up all the evidence and connected the pieces was always the best one to file the story. It was hard enough keeping her enthusiasm up for a story when it was her piece, her passion. Another reporter couldn’t be expected to carry the baton for her. Not when the Gazette was swamped with countless leads relating to Pablo Jimenez’s ring here in Grave Gulch. Charlie’s death was just one of too many tragic stories surrounding Jimenez’s Michigan operation.

The silence between them grated on her.

“This isn’t like us.” The words shot out of her mouth and she fidgeted with her seat belt. “One thing we’ve always been able to do is talk. It doesn’t feel right, always trying to cut each other off.” Her voice still shook, and it sounded like her voice box had been replaced by a toad’s, but the quiet had grown too heavy. They still had another twenty minutes to the Colton lakefront estate, and she didn’t want to see his parents for the first time in so long while she and Stanton were at each other’s throats.

Italia Colton’s intensity was going to be tough enough to cope with. Dominique had no doubt that the family matriarch would question her motives about spending time with Stanton again.

“No, it doesn’t feel right. I agree.” He shifted in his seat and she realized he might be tired. Where was her compassion? With Charlie Hamm.

“It’s been a long day for you, too, Stanton.”

He shot her a quick, wry glance. “Every day is a long one at Colton Protection. You know that. Your hours are as nuts as mine.”

“Yeah. Although I’ve been thinking about forcing myself to take two full days off each week.” She’d committed to one, but then Charlie’s death had launched her back into workaholic mode.

His grunt should have been a typical male response, but to her, it was so achingly familiar that tears flooded her vision. Her mind may have let go of Stanton and their connection, but her body, her heart, certainly hadn’t.

He chuckled. “The day you take a decent amount of time off to take care of yourself will be—”

He cut himself off, focused on the road. Fear sliced through her. “What is it?” Had he spotted the Porsche again in the rearview mirror? Or another follower?

“Relax. We’re safe. Give me a minute.” His profile was unreadable in the dusk, no matter that they were driving toward the setting sun. Stanton exited the highway, slowing at the bottom of the ramp to turn right, and followed a local road for a mile or so. Into the entrance of a park where they’d once spent a lot of time hiking, camping and exploring.

“It’ll be closed, Stanton.” Her voice hitched on his name and she silently cursed. No need to sound as if she was excited to be alone with him, even if she were willing to admit it to herself.

“I know a back way in. We won’t be long.” He took a side road, and within a few hundred yards they were on gravel, rocks dinging off the bottom of the chassis.

“This isn’t the best car for these dirt roads. Aren’t you worried you’ll damage