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

for her work at the sheriff’s office?” Liam asked. “She just took the job a few months ago.”

It was the same question Julia had asked...and answered. If she couldn’t hit a target, was her time in law enforcement over?

“All she needs is practice,” said Martinez. “She still goes to physical therapy and occupational therapy. There’s more the docs can do, but not yet. In time, she’ll get better.”

Two plastic baskets lined with wax paper and filled with steaming, sauce-covered wings were placed in front of Liam and Luis. Picking up a wing, Luis plunged the end into a small bowl of creamy ranch dressing.

Then again, Luis had problems of his own. Liam had unknowingly opened two of his wounds, and they were still raw. Luis never spoke to his family...and it was because of his addiction to gambling.

Sure, Marcus Jones—the leader of RMJ in Wyoming—knew about his past. But it was a secret closely guarded from everyone else, including Julia. Taking a bite of chicken wing, he chewed and tried to ignore the painful throbbing in his chest.

* * *

A large mirror hung above the bar, reflecting the entire room. The Watcher sat on a stool, gripping a bottle of beer. The burn of failure still stung. Everything had gone wrong, every step of the way, resulting in Darcy’s arrest. Now she sat in jail. And it was all The Watcher’s fault.

Then again, there were the two guys at the end of the bar. The conversation was, well, interesting and informative.

“It’s Julia. She’s still shaken up by what happened in the bunker—not that I blame her.”

“Me, either. Sophie still has nightmares about Darcy Owens...” They tightened their grip on the bottle, breath catching in their throat. The guys continued. “We did good getting that woman in jail.”

“We did good, just not soon enough.”

Were they the ones who’d captured Darcy Owens? And who were the others? Holly? Sophie? Although the men knew about Julia—the new sheriff. So she’d been involved...

The Watcher’s neck began to tingle, as if being watched from behind. A quick glance over the shoulder confirmed no one was there. But upon turning back, the Watcher’s eyes were drawn to the glass. To her—the reason for the tingle on the back of the neck. Darcy Owens.

Nobody in the pub reacted, and that was when the Watcher knew two important things. No one else could see Darcy—she came only for The Watcher. And being in the pub at this exact moment wasn’t a random coincidence. The Watcher had been called by Darcy again, just like before.

I need you, she said, her voice only a whisper. I need you to destroy them all. Do it for me.

And then, she was gone.

The Watcher’s eyes moved to the table of boisterous men in the back of the bar and smiled. If Darcy wanted destruction, then the Watcher would destroy.

CHAPTER 2

Julia gasped and bolted upright in bed, her heart pounding against her chest. Sweat-dampened sheets were wound around her middle. The dream had been the same each night. The bunker. The pain. The blood. The moment when Julia became nothing.

The images faded and Julia rose from the bed. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, she waited for her vision to clear. Julia was determined to put the past behind her—where it belonged.

Yet, the past continued to chase her down.

It was why she’d left Rocky Mountain Justice to become the sheriff of Pleasant Pines. Julia hoped that the change would be enough. It wasn’t.

After changing into running tights, a sports bra and a quarter-zip thermal top, Julia picked up her phone. She’d missed two calls from her mother.

It was 6:00 a.m. in Wyoming, so 8:00 a.m. in Connecticut and late enough in the morning to call her parents, especially since it was a Sunday. Yet, without her run Julia would be surly for the rest of the day. First things first.

Strapping her phone to her arm, she placed earbuds in her ears and opened the phone’s music app. The opening chords of “Highway to Hell,” her favorite AC/DC song, swelled around her. Stepping out of her home into the gray dawn, Julia paused on the front porch and inhaled deeply. The air was cool and smelled of pine.

After stretching and warming up, she started out at a jog. Her normal route took her from her home to Main Street. Around the town park, behind the hospital and back home. It was an easy four miles.

Most of the homes in her neighborhood were decorated for Halloween. Jack-o’-lanterns with wide smiles sat on porches. Scarecrows, arms out, stood in yards. Someone even hung tissue paper ghosts from a tree, and they flapped in the breeze.

As she ran, her body fell into a rhythm and her mind wandered. Her thoughts returned to the firing range. Immediately, her spine filled with the fiery indignation of failure. She hadn’t even hit the target once.

Pushing her legs to go faster, as if she could outrun the fiasco, she began to sprint. One mile. A mile and a half. An ache crept into her joints, and a burning sensation pulled at her side.

Two blocks ahead, she spied the park, with the round gazebo at its center. The roof was made up of wooden shaker tiles that had turned a dusty gray with age and the weather. Three steps led to the deck and the base was surrounded by a latticework fascia. A bench lined the interior. Yet for Julia, the pergola looked like an oasis in the desert.

Legs trembling, she lurched across the damp lawn. Climbing the set of stairs, Julia stopped short.

A man was slumped over on the seat. With sandy blond hair, he wore a polar fleece jacket and jeans. She guessed his age to be midthirties. He was fit, yet his head leaned to the side and the angle of his neck was unnatural.

Pausing the music, she pulled her earbuds free.

“Hey, buddy.” Julia’s heartbeat still raced, and her voice was nothing