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

ground, the Watcher drove a toe into the white, plastic box until the casing cracked. There was a plan, and nothing would stop them from avenging all the wrongs done to Darcy Owens.

* * *

There were fewer than a dozen cars in the entire lot, yet Luis chose a space at the very back. A light above the basement door was the only illumination. He strode across the parking lot, hands in pockets, and wondered if he really needed to attend. He also wondered if every Gamblers Anonymous meeting took place in a church basement.

Pushing open the door with his shoulder, he figured that the answer to both questions was yes.

Chairs, gathered in a circle, filled the middle of the room. Most of the seats were filled. The meeting had begun, and a person was speaking, the tone so low that Luis couldn’t make out what was being said.

A table, with a coffeepot and a tray of cookies, sat near the wall. Luis filled a foam cup with a dark liquid that resembled coffee, despite the fact that he wasn’t thirsty.

Really, he hadn’t taken up Liam on the offer to bet on the game, despite the fact that he’d been tempted.

And wasn’t it true that families lost touch all the time? It wasn’t like Luis and his sister had much in common beyond DNA.

Maybe he didn’t need to be at the meeting at all.

He sipped the coffee and knew that something else was true, as well.

If he believed all his excuses, he wouldn’t be standing in the basement of a church on a Sunday night. Besides, what had he said to Julia at the firing range?

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. I can help you, if you let me.

Luis took an empty seat and stared at his cup of coffee. He needed help, but God, he hated to ask.

He knew the routine. For an hour people spoke. The stories told were all painful, personal and eerily similar. At last, the group leader—an older man with a half moon of hair and an ample middle—stood. A self-adhesive name tag was stuck to his chest. It read Hello, My Name Is Stan. “If nobody else wants to share...”

Luis set his cup of coffee, still almost full, on the floor. “My name is Luis and I really can’t remember the last time I was at a meeting. Yesterday, I was having a drink with a buddy. He was talking about his family—his little girl and his girlfriend—and me, I’m single and haven’t spoken to my sister in years. We’re watching a game on TV and he asks who I think will win. I say Denver because, of course, they’ll win. He asks if I want to bet.” Luis rubbed his hands up and down the legs of his jeans, wishing he hadn’t set down his cup. He needed to do something with his hands. “Anyway, that hunger came back. You know?”

Luis looked up. All eyes were on him and several people nodded their heads.

“I turned down the bet, even though it made me a little sick. My buddy’s a good guy. He’d never bring up gambling if he knew about my past, but that’s just it. I can’t bring myself to tell anyone.”

“Why’s that?” Stan asked.

“I have another friend. She’s great. Pretty. Smart. Tough as nails, but still kind.” Luis paused. “I guess she’s so close to perfect that I worry if she knew about my addiction, we won’t be friends anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

The answer to that question was hidden deeper in Luis’s soul than he cared to look. “I don’t know.”

“Could you talk to her?” the group leader suggested. “It’d keep you from living in shame.”

“I guess,” said Luis. “Maybe.” Probably not.

“Luis, thank you for coming tonight and for sharing.”

He picked up the cup from the floor and nodded.

After other people spoke up, the meeting ended. He stood, threw his coffee in the garbage and strode out the door. The cool autumn air revived Luis. He knew that Stan had been right. He’d been living in a cell made out of shame since arriving in Pleasant Pines and the only way to break free was to be honest.

In his career as both a police officer and an operative, Luis had done his fair share of dangerous things—rushing into a burning warehouse, apprehending a serial killer, just to name a few.

Sharing his past with Julia might be the most terrifying thing yet.

He wondered whether he was ready to do it...

CHAPTER 6

The alarm blared, playing Def Leppard’s “Pour Some Sugar on Me.” Julia blinked, stretched and sat up. Turning off the alarm, she checked the time—5:30 a.m. The day had yet to break and the world outside was awash in shades of gray. It was Monday morning—the beginning of what promised to be a long week. Yet, if she skipped her run now, she’d pay for it later. After changing quickly into running gear, Julia slipped on a set of earbuds, opened a playlist and strapped her phone to a band on her arm.

Ozzy Osbourne’s voice screeched, a moment before the opening chords of “Crazy Train” began. Her blood pulsed with the beat and she stepped out the front door. The street, filled with small single-story houses, was quiet. At this time of the morning, all the houses were dark. A thick coating of frost clung to the dried lawn. After a quick stretch, she took off.

Breath collecting in a frozen cloud, she cleared her mind and ran. Rounding the corner to Main Street, her steps faltered. This morning was the first in a long time she hadn’t woken in the grip of a nightmare. So why did she feel like she was in one?

* * *

The Watcher sat in the car at the end of the block, hood pulled low. The sheriff emerged from her house. Standing on the porch, she touched her toes, reached