Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (interesting books to read for teens TXT) 📕

so screwed. He’d begun thinking of them as having a relationship again. Not the best place mentally, when she had a big bullseye on her back and a cartel kingpin who wouldn’t stop until she was dead.

CHAPTER 12

“You look tired, sis.” Dominique motioned for Soledad to join her on the ledge of the stone-front fireplace. The heat warmed her back, still sore from the attack and then Stanton’s heroic save in front of the police station.

Soledad laughed. “I’m always tired by six o’clock. You would be, too, if you got up at two a.m. to bake bread Monday through Saturday. I’m usually getting ready for bed about now.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She didn’t want to scare her sister, but her curiosity won out. “Have you noticed anything unusual around our apartment building?” They rented at the same address, their apartments across the hall from one another.

“Like what?” Deep lines appeared between Soledad’s brows. “Drug deals?” She knew Dominique was digging up information on the local cartel; Dominique had told her twin all about Charlie Hamm and his poetry.

“No. Strange people, probably men, lurking about?”

Soledad tilted her head slightly, her gaze on their mother’s colorful silk rug. “No, not at all. Are you thinking that the kingpin has a stakeout on you?”

“You know I am. I know you told Dad about my story, Soledad. And he hired Stanton to protect me. I meant to call sooner but, well, it’s been chaotic.”

“I figured you’d be upset that I told Dad, but can you blame me? I’m worried about you. When he told me he’d hired Stanton, I knew you’d be really ticked off. I thought you weren’t calling me until you cooled down. I only told him because I care, sis.”

“I appreciate that, but I wish you’d talked to me first.”

“Like that would have convinced you to let this story go, or to at least stop instigating a cartel leader to place a target on your back?”

“This isn’t all about me, Soledad. There are lives at stake, not to mention the justice I’m seeking for Charlie. This cartel is particularly nasty. They’ll go after my family if they think it’ll make a difference in whether I keep digging. Please be aware of your surroundings until these bad players are caught. I don’t want you to take your personal security for granted.”

“Trust me, I don’t. I’m not the fearless soul between us, remember?” Soledad’s query made Dominique smile.

“Of course I do.”

“I’m not sure you do. I’m the one who likes to bake cookies and bread, who made a living out of producing comfort food. You’ve always been about the adrenaline rush, getting to the truth. Remember when you stuck up for both of us to those three bullies in middle school?”

“Hey, if I hadn’t known you were behind me, ready with your baton from drill team, I might not have been so bold.” She’d told off all three boys, who’d kept following her and Soledad home from school, to the bus stop, around the school corridors if they stayed after for one of the various clubs they’d enjoyed at the time. Soledad was in the gourmet bakers’ club and Dominique found her twelve-year-old kindred spirits in the school paper’s office. The memories brought back the scents of that room, from the dusty reams of computer paper stacked against the brick walls, to the dry eraser ink as she’d written on the large whiteboard at one end of the classroom-turned-newsroom. She’d known in her bones that journalism was her calling. No amount of encouragement from well-meaning English teachers who’d insisted her talents might be better used in fiction and its myriad genres mattered. Dominique had answered her soul’s calling to find the truth and write about it.

“You’re thinking about the school paper, aren’t you?” Soledad prompted.

“Of course. Telling those boys to leave us alone was one thing. We scared them for a bit. But what kept them away was the editorial.” Dominique had snuck in the bullies’ full names, totally against school policy. It had cost her detention for a week straight. “It was all worth it. They never bothered anyone again.”

“They didn’t.” Soledad eyed her. “I get that you’re always going to be chasing down justice. It’s in your blood. But don’t you want more out of life?”

“More?” She tried to keep a cool countenance as her sister seemed intent on her emotional jugular.

“Don’t stare at me like a hungry goldfish.” Soledad’s command sent them both into a fit of giggles, remembering the poor sad creatures they’d won one year at their local parish picnic. They’d come home with the fish swimming in dyed water, pink and green, in fishbowls that fit in their hands. Mom had immediately purchased a large bowl complete with filter, much to Rigo’s chagrin.

“They lived for three years. A record.”

“Mine lived a day longer.” Soledad made Dominique’s giggles start all over again. “Back to the subject, sister of mine. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been having serious baby pangs lately.”

“What?” Dominique wasn’t surprised that Soledad was thinking about starting her own family, but she wasn’t in a serious relationship at the moment. “As in, you want a baby no matter what?”

Soledad waved her hand in dismissal. “No, not yet. I mean, I hope I find someone to start a family with. You already have found your soul mate, Dominique. Why aren’t you jumping on it?”

Usually they’d have a good laugh over Soledad’s choice of wording, as it was a perfect euphemism for sex. Dominique couldn’t speak past what felt like a sucker punch to her gut, the snarl of emotion in her throat.

“We—we’re—we’re not together, Soledad.” She hissed her response, not wanting any of their father’s guests to hear.

“Come on, Dominique. You two were making eyes at each other in the kitchen over your water, for heaven’s sake.” Soledad placed her hand on her wrist. “Hey, I’m sorry. You’ve been through an awful lot these past few days, and I know you haven’t told me