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

ready to bring Micha around her family. Mostly because she knew when she did, her female cousins would immediately start planning the wedding.

Instead of responding, Carly took a sip of her beer. The light, slightly citrusy flavor made her smile. She drank again. “Jones, this is really good.”

“Thanks.” Expression serious, her brother glanced between her and Micha. “So are you both going to come?”

Micha simply watched her. She appreciated the way he allowed her to decide, rather than jumping in and agreeing to go.

“You know how pushy the cousins are,” Carly said. “They already started as soon as I told them Micha was alive.” She met Micha’s gaze. “Are you prepared to deal with them acting as if we’re having a wedding sometime soon?”

“Are you?” Micha shot back. “Prepared to deal with them, I mean? They’re your family. I’ve never had a problem holding my own with them.”

“Is that a challenge?” Jones teased. “Because it sure sounded like one to me.”

“I can deal with them,” Carly responded, again refusing to let her brother get under her skin. “What do you think, Micha? Would you like to go?”

Though it wasn’t super obvious, the way Micha exhaled told her he’d released tension. “That sounds like fun.”

She nodded, facing her brother. “That settles it. So yes, we’ll be there.”

About to push to his feet, Jones knocked a coaster on the floor. Both he and Micha reached for it at the same time, just as the front window shattered.

“Gunshots!” Micha said. “Everyone down on the floor.”

Petrified, at first Carly didn’t move.

“Now!” ordered Micha.

Immediately, Carly dropped to the rug. “What’s happening?” she asked, shocked to realize Micha had a pistol.

“Someone shot out your front window,” Jones muttered. His eyes widened as he caught sight of Micha, crouched low and moving toward the front door with his weapon drawn. “Damn, Micha. What the hell are you doing?”

Micha barely glanced at him. “I’m betting this was a drive-by. But I want to get outside in case the shooter comes back again. I’ll take cover behind that huge tree out front.”

Carly’s first impulse was to argue, to try to dissuade him. But her brother reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t,” he murmured. “I have a feeling Micha knows what he’s doing.”

Reluctantly, she swallowed back her words, stomach clenched and chest hurting as she watched Micha open the front door and dash outside.

“Don’t get up just yet,” Jones warned. “If Micha is right, and there’s a second drive-by, they’ll go for anything that moves.”

“But why?” Her anguished question didn’t really require an answer.

Jones gave her one, anyway. “I don’t know. Maybe whoever blew up the car is trying again. Micha is here, after all.” He hugged her. “Carly, I don’t like this. I don’t think you should stay here any longer. I have room at my place.”

Wide-eyed, she couldn’t respond. Heck, she couldn’t even think. As a matter of fact, delayed reaction had set in and she’d started to shake.

Seeing this, Jones scooted over and put his arm around her shoulders. “It’s going to be all right,” he said.

The sound of a motor revving had them both tensing up.

“It’s coming back,” Carly moaned, out of her mind with worry for Micha.

“That’s not a car. It’s a motorcycle.” Still, Jones kept her down with his arm. “Stay still. Micha clearly knows how to defend himself. He was a soldier, for Pete’s sake.”

“Special forces,” she corrected, almost automatically.

“Well, there you go.”

They both listened, bracing themselves for more gunshots. The motorcycle revved again, getting louder as it approached.

Again, the sharp crack of gunfire. A few more, as Micha must have responded. The rest of her front window caved inward, glass shards flying.

Then the motorcycle was gone, roaring off down the street.

In the silence, Carly could barely breathe. Eyes glued to her front door, she counted to three, waiting for Micha to reappear.

When he didn’t, she pushed to her feet, shrugging away from her brother.

Jones got up, too, his expression shaken. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’ve got to find Micha and make sure he’s all right.” She couldn’t lose him again, she just couldn’t. In that moment, frozen in terror, how much she cared for him slammed into her.

“You’re not going to lose him,” Jones replied, making her realize she must have spoken out loud. Grabbing her arm, Jones put his face level with hers. “I’ll go,” he said. “Mom would never forgive me if I allowed you to get hurt.”

Dizzy, all Carly could do was nod. “I can’t lose you, either,” she said. “Please, Jones. Stay safe.”

As her brother started for the foyer, she sank back down to the floor, barely registering the spray of glass all over her carpet and furniture. Bridget whined from somewhere in the kitchen and Carly began to crawl toward her, needing to make sure her pet hadn’t been hurt.

Just then the front door opened, and Micha stepped inside. His grim expression revealed nothing. “Call 911,” he told Carly.

CHAPTER 8

Carly froze, all the blood draining from her face as she stared at him. Concerned, Micha started for her. “Are you hurt?” he rasped, his chest tight at the thought of something, anything, having happened to her.

“N-n-no,” she stammered, her wide-eyed gaze sweeping over him. “I’m okay. What about you? That looks like blood on your arm.”

Glancing at himself, Micha cursed as he realized she was right. Of course, the instant he noticed it, the damn thing started hurting. “Must be a flesh wound,” he said. “Do you have a clean rag or something I can use to stop the bleeding?”

Jones rushed into the kitchen, glass crunching underfoot, and returned with a dish towel. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Micha. “I hope you don’t mind,” he told Carly. “It’s all I could find.”

Though it wasn’t long enough to tie a proper tourniquet, Micha tried to make due. His arm now throbbed like hell and he at least needed to stop the bleeding.

Seeing the problem, Carly hurried into her linen closet, removed an