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

a wooden stall, and overhead a tin roof glinted with sunlight. He was wearing a pair of snug-fitting jeans and a Colorado Mustangs T-shirt. Lowering his own gun, he stared at her. “You can’t walk onto the firing range. What if you’d gotten shot?”

After sliding her gun into the holster at her hip, Julia started walking toward Luis. “There’s nobody around. Sure, I broke a few rules, but what of it? You aren’t going to accidentally shoot me.”

“When you asked me to come with you to the firing range, I didn’t think you’d be reckless enough to expose yourself to live fire.” Luis’s dark eyes were filled with fury and something else she couldn’t name.

Concern?

A momentary pang of guilt gripped her chest. She didn’t want Luis—or anyone, really—to worry about her. Yet, what could she say about her behavior? How could she explain what she’d done, when Julia wasn’t sure she actually understood?

For a long moment, they stared at each other. Luis worked his jaw back and forth. Finally, he spoke. “I think we’re done here.”

“Probably,” she said. How could she put into words that she felt as if she’d lost all control? It wasn’t just the attack, where she’d clearly been the victim. But Julia still hadn’t reclaimed her life. Despite months of physical and occupational therapy, she was no better off than when she’d left the hospital in Cheyenne.

And forget about the nightmares...

Luis had been with her through it all. More than being her partner when she was at RMJ, he was a good friend. She could confide in him. “Every time I go to sleep it’s the same nightmare. Me. Darcy. The bunker. What she did to me.” She hesitated. “The way I failed.”

Luis’s bronze complexion paled. “This has been so hard on you. But I didn’t know you weren’t sleeping, either.”

“Even during the day, I can’t shake the memories of what happened. That’s why I wanted to get out of the house, you know. Today’s been a disaster.” Glancing at her right hand, Julia’s mouth went dry. The fingerless sockets, the red scarred flesh. Yet, the ghosts of the two fingers she’d lost still tingled with remembered feeling. Maybe someday she’d be whole again. It’d mean more surgeries, maybe prosthetics. First, she had more healing to do. But where did that leave her now? “If I can’t shoot, I can’t work. It means that despite the fact that Darcy is in jail, she won.”

“You’re still healing. You have to relearn some things—like how to fire a gun.”

“Relearn?” Julia snorted. “I didn’t hit the target once. I was never this bad, even the first time my dad showed me how to use his revolver when I was a kid.”

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he said, “Things will get better. Maybe I can help you work on your grip. I did teach at the police academy in Denver, you know.”

His touch was soothing. Looking at him now, she couldn’t help but notice his shoulders were broad, his arms strong. Certainly, he could help bear Julia’s burdens. All she had to do was lean in to his embrace... But she wasn’t in the mood to be soothed.

“Don’t,” she said, moving away. “I don’t want your sympathy. Or your help.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” said Luis. “You’re the toughest person I know. I watched you fight for your life. You won that battle, Julia. From now on, everything else is simple. And as far as help...man. Everyone needs help now and again—even you.” Sighing, he continued, “I can help you, if you let me.”

Her throat burned. Julia looked away. “Darcy took away my ability to protect myself...or protect others. If I can’t do my job, if I can’t work...then I’ve lost my purpose.”

“You work hard at physical therapy. Occupational therapy. Things will get better.” He paused. “You’ll get better.”

“What if I don’t? I can’t be the sheriff if I can’t hit the broad side of a barn. What would I do with myself, career-wise?”

He said, “All of us working cases in Pleasant Pines, the sheriff’s office and RMJ—we’re all a family.”

“It’s not, Luis,” she said. “It’s a job. And if I can’t pull my weight, they’ll kick me out.”

Her voice caught on the last word, the only sign that she had lied to her friend. For her, protecting the community and enforcing the law was more than employment. It was a calling.

“You look miserable,” he said.

“I feel worse.” Julia tried to smile at her feeble joke.

“What can I do?” Luis asked. “How can I help?”

Help. There was that word again. She wanted to surrender to the solace he offered. Yet, wanting help and comfort made her weak. She loathed the idea of needing another person for emotional support. She was more of a lone wolf, able to sustain herself.

“I should go,” she said, slipping away.

She didn’t wait to see what else Luis would say. Julia stalked to her car and flung open the door. After stowing her gun in the glovebox, she slid behind the steering wheel. She turned the key in the ignition, slammed the gearshift into Drive and dropped her foot on the accelerator. As she drove, her tires kicked up a cloud of khaki-colored dust, erasing whatever past Julia was leaving behind.

She hit the contact app on her phone, placing a call before she realized what she’d done. The phone was answered on the third ring by voice mail.

“This is Cheryl McCloud.” Julia’s mom used her most chipper voice for the outgoing message. “I can’t get your call right now, so leave me a message and I’ll get back to you soon.”

The pang of panic—the one that had compelled her to call her mother—was barely a twinge. But she couldn’t just hang up. Her mother would see her number on caller ID and worry. Clearing her throat, Julia put a smile into her voice. “Hi, Mom. It’s me. Just seeing what you’re up to. Call back whenever. Love you. Bye.”

Using controls on the steering wheel,