Harlequin Intrigue April 2021--Box Set 2 of 2, Carol Ericson [good book recommendations TXT] 📗

into a forest—he was running hard, too. And there was a dark blue truck parked on the street ahead.

She could yell out a warning, shoot him when he inevitably spun and fired at her. Or she could tackle him, bring him in. Force him to admit all the things he’d done, force him to serve time the way he deserved.

Keara hunched inward, pushed her strides as long as she could, as he slid to a stop alongside his truck, stopping himself by grabbing the side mirror.

Then he was spinning toward her, aiming his gun again.

Keara dove for the ground, twisting as she flew through the air, trying to get her own gun up as another gunshot blasted. She slammed into the hard-packed earth with a grunt that stole all of her air and made her vision momentarily fuzzy.

Then he was in the truck, the tires spitting dirt as she lined up her pistol and fired. She heard the ping of her bullet hitting the truck, but it wasn’t enough.

The truck careened around the corner and out of sight.

JAX’S HEARTBEAT REFUSED to slow.

He’d been back at the hotel for half an hour, but his body was still amped up, the adrenaline overload not subsiding. He wasn’t sure it would until Keara walked through that door and he could see for himself that she was okay.

Kneeling on the floor, he wrapped his arms around Patches’s neck, hugging her.

She whined a little, pushed her head up into the crook of his neck. She’d seen a lot of terrible things during her six months as a therapy dog—and she’d definitely had a rough start in life. But she’d never been in danger while she’d worked for the FBI.

Fury and guilt mixed as he stroked the soft fur on her back, whispered, “We’re okay, Patches. Keara is okay, too.”

She whined again at Keara’s name and he knew she had to be wishing for the same thing he was.

As he’d reached the safety of the Desparre police station, a small group of officers had poured outside, wearing bulletproof vests over their uniforms and helmets on their heads. They’d looked serious and nervous, but moved confidently in pairs toward the threat.

Not long afterward, Ben and Anderson had climbed down from the Desparre Police Department’s rarely used attic, frowning and shaking their heads. “He got away,” Ben had told him. Then he must have seen Jax’s panic, because he’d added, “Keara is okay. We’re putting out an APB on the truck. Dark blue, like you said.”

Now, back in the hotel room where he’d been escorted by a pair of police officers and told to “stay put,” Jax wondered: If he’d done something differently when he’d seen that truck, would they have already caught the bomber?

Pushing aside the frustration, he continued to pet Patches until her presence calmed his raging heart. She seemed to relax, too, and she pulled her head off his shoulder to glance at the door.

“I know, Patches. You want Keara.”

Her tail wagged and new nerves filled him. Keara hadn’t been hurt chasing down the killer, and hopefully they’d get lucky and catch him quickly with the APB. But then he and Patches would be leaving.

He’d been putting off telling her how he felt, putting off telling her that he wanted to pursue a relationship, despite the challenges. He’d been waiting for the right time, hoping this case would end with her getting closure on her husband’s murder and make it easier for her to move on. But there was never going to be a perfect time to talk, not even if that happened.

He needed to act.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and Patches leaped to her feet, giving an excited bark as her tail whipped back and forth. A reaction like that could only mean one thing: Keara was here.

His heart rate picked up again as he looked through the peephole to confirm it before letting her in.

Keara looked formidable, despite torn sleeves and the dirt covering her once-crisp uniform, despite the strands of hair pulled loose from her bun, and the smear of dirt across one cheek. Determination blazed in her eyes and there was a hard set to her expression that said it didn’t matter how far the bomber ran, she was going to find him.

He stood staring at her, watching her gaze run over him like she was reassuring herself he wasn’t injured, as Patches ran in circles around her.

Finally a shaky smile broke and she bent down to pet Patches, before standing and moving closer to him. Close enough to touch, but the intimidating, focused expression was still in her eyes, mixed suddenly with a fear he knew he’d caused.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We’re fine,” he reassured her. “I’m not sure he actually wanted to hit us.”

She blew out a heavy breath that he felt across his face. “We lost him.” She shook her head, and her hard mask broke, showing all the frustration underneath. “The FBI is working with my officers to find him, and we’ve coordinated with all the surrounding towns to be on the lookout for him or his truck. I got a partial plate, which will help, but...”

She sighed again, ran a hand through her hair that just pulled out more pieces of her bun. “We found the rifle, too, and we’re running it for prints. The bastard was wearing gloves, but there’s a good chance he loaded it without them, so hopefully we’ll get a hit there.”

“We’ll get him,” Jax said, discovering it was easy to inject his voice with confidence. This killer was savvy and he’d gotten away with it for a long time. But the Anchorage agents were very good and very dedicated. And Keara? Jax knew this was the most important case of her life. She wasn’t going to rest until she found him. And he’d bet on her over anyone else.

It was something he needed her to know. “Keara—”

“Shh.” She