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

to keep them both alive to hopefully work things out after Dominique got her story.

“It’s not for you, Stanton, even though I don’t like the idea of you being involved in this one bit. It’s for our native city, and for future generations. If we don’t care enough to clean it up, then who?”

Melissa disconnected and he was left alone in the warming air with what he’d been trying to ignore all day. There wasn’t going to be a reprieve; the meeting with Blanchard was going down, and whether or not it was a setup, he had to prepare as if it was.

He’d done some research of his own on all of the event venues in the area and narrowed it to two possibilities. Both were hosting weddings this weekend, two per day. It was unlikely Blanchard would use his real name when he was supposedly on the run from the cartel, but Stanton had inquired, to be thorough. No Blanchard on either resort’s payroll. But he’d gained some intel that would reassure him that Dominique was being as safe as she could be, in case the cartel had found her. No doubt the cartel had both her and Stanton’s profiles memorized, was on the lookout for them. They’d be identified the minute they stepped out of their vehicle at whichever resort.

Unless he and Dominique didn’t look like themselves. He had a solid idea, and Melissa seemed to support it. First he had to convince her of his plan.

* * *

Johnny Blanchard’s hand shook as he dialed the number on his cell phone. His nerves were shot. Maybe with the extra bucks he’d get for helping the cartel land the reporter chick he’d get himself a small place up here, far away from Jimenez.

The connection happened faster than he expected and he almost dropped his cigarette.

“Why didn’t you call sooner? Did they take the bait?” It wasn’t Leo, the thug Johnny usually dealt with. It was Jimenez himself on the line, his voice reaching through the phone, as if by sheer force of will he could crush Johnny with his words.

“Yes, yes, jefe, no worries. Hook, line and sinker, I’m telling you.” He puffed on his cigarette as he stood on the concrete platform outside the resort’s kitchen. “They’ll be here exactly when I tell them to. And your niece’s wedding will go off without a hitch later this afternoon, too.” He knew it had better or he’d be fish bait at the bottom of the lake that the resort so magnificently overlooked.

“I want them at the bottom of the lake before my niece ever says ‘I do.’”

“No problem. I’m telling them to show up in the middle of the first wedding, to give the cover of the crowd. Three hundred people will be admiring the grounds and the wedding couple. The last people they’ll notice are me and the reporter.”

“Don’t forget her bodyguard.”

“You said Leo will take him out first.”

“Leo’s not coming. He ran into a snag.”

Johnny’s blood ran cold and he fought to keep from hyperventilating. Snag was Pablo Jimenez’s pet word for dead. As in, he’d had Leo killed. Or offed him on his own. Oh, crap. Not Leo. Leo was Jimenez’s longest-running employee. If he’d been killed by the kingpin, no one was safe. Including a weasel who’d lied on the stand. Maybe he could run now, get away before the darn reporter and her bodyguard showed up.

“Don’t think about it, Blanchard. I’ve got eyes on you twenty-four seven. You’ll never survive if you try to run. After we take care of the reporter and her boy toy, there’s a big promotion for you.” Jimenez was practically psychic, with the resources he had. Johnny looked around at where the building’s roof began, searching for security cameras.

“Yes, sir. I’m your man.”

“You’d better be. Or you’ll be nobody’s anything.”

After Jimenez disconnected, Johnny couldn’t stop his mind from racing, his pulse from hammering, his breath from getting so shallow he sank down on his haunches and began to tug at his hair.

He saw Jimenez’s plan so clearly now. He wasn’t only going to have de la Vega and her bodyguard killed, he was going to make a three-for-one deal. Johnny knew he was in Jimenez’s crosshairs, too.

* * *

“You have got to be kidding. I think the lack of sleep is getting to you.” Dominique stood up from the kitchen table where she’d been working on her laptop and began pacing in the small kitchen. It was past one in the morning. Blanchard had called and unwittingly verified one of the two resorts Stanton had already figured it was. And now he was asking her to think of going to the interview in some kind of disguise, just in case it was a setup. “I’ve never had to pretend I’m anyone but me. It’s bordering on unethical, since I already have the interview set and Johnny Blanchard’s counting on me to show up, at whatever time he gives me.”

“He’s not going to dictate our arrival time. That would be insanity.” Stanton was at his breaking point with her, she could tell from the hard glint in his eyes. He’d agreed to support her through the end, to get the story, but he wasn’t going to budge on any of his safety precautions.

“I know you’re right, but let me get my head wrapped around this. I suppose it would be okay to try to not look like my usual self. Are you thinking wigs, different kinds of clothing? Or maybe we can look like we’re hikers who wander in to use the facilities? That’s not so uncommon.” She’d used various restrooms as needed when she’d hiked along the lake’s edge.

“I’m thinking we should fit in with the kind of event they’re staging. A wedding.”

“Oh, so you’re saying show up as if we’re guests of the bride and groom. Crash either, or both, of the weddings.” She nodded. “Yeah, I can do that. That makes sense.”

“Not guests.”

“Not guests?” Puzzlement and the