Too Sweet to Die by T. Doyle (namjoon book recommendations .TXT) 📕

think he had a partner who kidnapped the babies, overdosed Oscar, cut my brake lines, and killed him and probably drives an SUV.” I pulled Joe toward our bedroom.

“I think you’re right.” Joe grabbed a bath towel from the clean-laundry pile and folded. “Babe, it would make me feel better if you let me and Ray drive you to and from work.”

“Seriously? You want Ray to babysit me?” I tossed his sock to his side of the bed.

“More like bodyguard. Just until Tyler’s murderer is caught.” He tossed a face cloth at me. “Honey, I need you. Life’s not fun without you.”

The man melted my heart. “I love you, too. Are you sure Ray’s okay with it?”

“He offered. With his mom at Sunnyview, he can visit her and then drive you home. He said he’d stay until I got off work. I may have offered him a nightly dinner.” Joe waggled his eyebrows. “It’s either that or Liz sends you away to an undisclosed location for a few weeks. Or Ian offered to let you stay in his shop all day until I get off work.”

“Fine. Unless the undisclosed location is a Caribbean Island and you come too.”

Joe gathered me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. “Babe, I really need you to be careful. The FBI will catch Tyler’s partner.” His certainty was exactly what I needed to hear.

“I bet he was caught on tape and they’ll arrest him tonight.” I picked up the folded towels. “Until then, I guess I get to be a domestic goddess.”

“Nah, let’s Netflix and chill.” This time his eyebrows waggled for an entirely different reason.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Empty-nest meant Joe and I didn’t have to worry about locking the bedroom door or children wondering why we are napping at two in the afternoon. Joe’s concern about my safety and the knowledge someone intentionally cut my brake lines shadowed the perfect afternoon.

My stomach growled, requesting dinner, so I pulled myself out of bed, showered and dressed. Joe and I stood in front of the opened fridge door and stared at the contents.

“We could order out,” he suggested.

“That’s cheating. You have to decide on a menu.” I leaned against him. “I don’t mind cooking, it’s the menu planning I hate.”

Joe closed the fridge door. “Fine. Pasta and salad.”

I turned and hugged him, nuzzling into my favorite part of his chest. “Okay. What kind of pasta? What kind of sauce? Do you want meat or shrimp or…” I kissed his jaw.

“So many choices.” He kissed my forehead and then playfully patted my bottom. “I declare chicken, asparagus, and penne with olive oil.”

“Excellent choice. We have those ingredients.” I nudged him out of the kitchen.

Joe’s phone beeped and he went into our bedroom to retrieve it. “Ian’s on his way over. Your car’s fixed.”

I grabbed Momma’s keys from the dining room table and the stun gun. “Will he take Momma’s car or do we need to drop it off?”

Joe eyed the stun gun. “He said he’d drop off the Jetta. Liz is meeting him at Momma’s for dinner.”

I put the Jetta keys and Liz’s stun gun down on the kitchen table.

Joe hit the garage door opener so Ian could park my car inside. “You’re not going to keep the stun gun?” he asked.

“Nah. I can’t take it to work and if you and Ray are driving me to and from work, there’s really no need.” I grabbed a head of iceberg lettuce from the fridge.

I recognized the sound of my car’s engine as it pulled into the garage. Joe grabbed Momma’s keys and the stun gun and met Ian outside. He returned five minutes later and put my keys on the kitchen counter. “Ian thinks you should get a gun.”

“He’s seen me play darts and still thinks I should get a gun?” I pictured the halo of holes I’d made to the wall surrounding Ian’s dart board.

Joe grinned. “He thinks every Southern woman needs a gun.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Ian says we’re probably the only household in West Virginia that isn’t armed.” Joe pulled a cucumber and tomato from the fridge. “I told him we’re better with knives than guns.”

I wrinkled my nose at the idea of hitting an artery. “That’d be so messy.”

The front doorbell rang and I wiped my hands on a towel. I pulled open the door expecting Ian and found Ray.

“Hey.” He took his baseball cap off and wiped his feet on the mat.

I opened the door wider. “Come on in. Have you eaten dinner?”

“No.” He pursed his lips and his eyes twinkled. “Are you going to feed me?”

“Apparently.” I closed the door and Ray followed me into the kitchen. “Beer’s in the fridge. Help yourself.”

Joe glanced up from slicing the cucumber. “Hi Ray, what did you find out?”

Ray grabbed a beer and sat down at the kitchen table. He twisted off the cap and sucked down a third of the beer. “Tyler’s suicide note was typed and left on his printer.” Ray raised an accusatory eyebrow. “The FBI will handle the investigation. I’m guessing they doubt it’s suicide.” He tipped the beer bottle towards me. “We never got to catch up after I talked to Gwen and Brett at the Pickle last night.”

“I blame the brake-line distraction.” I grabbed the chicken and other pasta ingredients.

Joe finished tossing the salad and set it on the table. He snatched plates and silverware and handed them to Ray. He then grabbed a beer and salad dressings and joined Ray at the kitchen table.

Ray leaned back in his chair. “Brett told me a couple of gangs are trying to gain territory in Forest Forks. They’ve seen an increase in overdoses, but it’s pretty on-par for the area. What’s got him worried is the increase in Fentanyl-laced heroin. The Pickle had an overdose in the parking lot last week and when they checked the guy’s car they found a hundred pills.” Ray sipped his beer. “Someone’s trying to bring a large volume of drugs into the