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

old but clean sheet and tried to tear it. Failing that, she grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a long and wide strip, which she folded over to make it thicker. “Let me,” she said, wrapping it around his arm. “Leave the dish towel in place, but this should work until we can get your arm checked out.”

“It’s just a flesh wound,” he started to protest, but then he noticed how her hands shook and held his tongue.

The instant she’d finished, she swayed and stumbled as if she might fall. Instinctively, he reached for her, wincing as he tried to use his injured arm. Jones noticed and rushed over and helped his sister to the sofa. “Sit,” he ordered. “Are you all right? You look awfully pale.”

She stared up at him and grimaced. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I feel really weird.” Her gaze became unfocused, though she remained conscious and sitting up. Micha dropped down on the couch next to her and put his arm around her while exchanging a worried glance with her brother.

“I think you might be in shock,” Jones said. “Let me get you some water.”

More glass crunched underfoot as he got a glass of water and brought it to her. Murmuring a thank-you, she accepted it and took a sip. Keeping one arm around her shoulders, Micha reached in his pocket for his phone, but it wasn’t there. Which meant it must have fallen out at some point, likely when he’d been crawling toward the door. Damn it. He needed to find it, but not right now. Carly was his main concern.

“We need to call 911,” he said. “Chicago PD is supposed to be doing increased patrols, but they clearly missed this. I want to have Carly looked at.”

She opened her eyes. “You need to have your arm checked out first,” she said, squirming out from under his arm. “I’m fine. Why don’t you go ahead and call them?”

“I need to find my phone first.” Micha pushed to his feet and started to search. “It has to be somewhere between here and that big oak tree,” he said. “I didn’t go anywhere else.”

Jones began to help him. “Did you get a glimpse of the shooter?” he asked.

“No. He was wearing a helmet. I squeezed off a couple of shots, but he went by really fast and I wasn’t entirely prepared. I’m not sure if I hit him or not.”

“I’m calling the police now,” Carly said. Though still appearing dazed, she dialed 911 and told the dispatcher what had happened. When she ended the call, she informed them in a shaky voice that the woman promised to send a squad car out immediately. Some of the color had returned to her face and she seemed to be breathing better.

Nodding, Micha continued his search for his phone.

“Here it is,” Jones said, pulling it out from under a decorative table near the front door. “It must have fallen from your pocket during all that insanity earlier.”

Thanking the other man, Micha did a quick inspection to make sure there’d been no damage. Once he’d ascertained everything was fine, he slid the phone back into his pocket.

In the distance, they could all hear the sirens, which meant the police would be here soon.

“Well,” Jones said, dusting his hands off on his jeans. “I guess we still can’t really tell who the shooter was after.”

“He shot up my house,” Carly protested.

“But Micha was inside,” Jones replied. “So he could have been after either one of you.”

“What about you?” Carly took another long sip of her water. “Is it possible someone might be after our entire family?”

Jones shrugged, appearing unconcerned. “Anything is possible,” he conceded. “But since I haven’t had any threats or anything, I think we can rule that out.” Eyeing Carly, he frowned. “Speaking of that, I need to call Heath and fill him in.”

Outside, the sirens cut off, though the flash of blue and red lights announced the arrival of the police. A sharp knock on the front door had Micha hurrying to answer it.

Bridget barked twice, then took off for the bedroom, tail tucked between her legs, presumably to take shelter under Carly’s bed.

Micha opened the door. There were two patrol cars and four officers. Two of them used flashlights to check the outside. The other two came in and inspected the damage, shaking their heads at the broken glass.

“You’re the guy whose car exploded, right?” one of the policemen asked. “I wasn’t on duty then, but I sure heard about it. That would have been a hell of a way to die.”

Thinking back to some of the things he’d seen in Afghanistan, Micha agreed.

Carly, Micha and Jones all gave their statements, which were duly recorded. Once Jones had made certain nothing else was needed from him, he slipped out to his vehicle to call Heath.

After making sure her dog was safe in her bedroom, Carly closed that door to keep her in there and then got out a broom and began sweeping up the broken glass. “I’m glad Bridget didn’t cut her feet,” she said to no one in particular.

The two outside officers returned, apparently having finished up. “We’re going to speak with your neighbors in case anyone had a video camera. If we learn anything, someone will keep you posted.”

Micha crossed his arms. “Just like someone was supposed to beef up patrols on this street after the car bomb?”

The older officer stared him down, though the younger one blinked. “We can check into that, if you’d like. Hyde Park patrols are usually pretty routine, so I’m thinking they would be able to swing by here once or twice per shift.”

“What about your arm?” Carly asked, pointing to his makeshift bandage. “He needs to have that checked out.”

“Were you shot?” Getting out his radio, one of the cops appeared ready to call for an EMT.

“It’s okay.” Micha held up his hand to forestall him. “A bullet just grazed my arm. No need to call anyone. Once