Harlequin Romantic Suspense July 2021 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  Even Luther Mills.

  He kept trying, though, with the way he stared at her in court. Every time Luther looked across from the defendant’s table to Jocelyn’s, Landon clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to take the guy down just for the way he looked at her. As if he was undressing her...

  But then he’d glance back at where Landon sat in the gallery behind the prosecutor’s table, and he would chuckle. And Landon realized he was purposely goading them. Hell, he’d been purposely goading them all. He was smug—too damn smug—like he had no worries about going to jail.

  Why?

  The judge was ruling against every cheap trick and ploy Luther’s sleazy lawyer tried, while every bit of evidence and testimony Jocelyn presented was accepted. Her case wasn’t just circumstantial—it was insurmountable for Luther’s defense. He was going to prison.

  He had to know it.

  So why did he look so damn smug? What the hell did he have planned now? Because Landon had no doubt, Luther had something up his sleeve, something dangerous and wicked and certain to result in more deaths.

  Landon peered around the courtroom. After testifying, the witnesses and their bodyguards had left it, going back into protective custody until after the sentencing. The judge’s daughter and Tyce were still out of the country somewhere well away from the reach of Luther Mills.

  The only people who sat near Landon were Parker Payne, a few bodyguards from his brothers’ branches of the security agency and the chief of police. The side behind Luther had surprisingly filled up, though.

  With so many crew members dead or in jail and denied bail, how did the drug dealer still have so many supporters? And they were supporters, not just spectators. It was obvious from the way they grinned at Luther, who turned back to look at them, and from the way they glared at the judge.

  And that uneasy feeling churned harder in Landon’s guts. Something was going on. And he saw the moment that Luther put his plan in motion—the moment he and the judge’s bailiff exchanged a significant glance.

  All Landon had time to do was leap toward the prosecutor’s table and Jocelyn as he shouted, “Get down!”

  Then the shooting began.

  * * *

  Jocelyn fell to the floor of the courtroom, not because of the bullet that whizzed past her head but because of the muscular body that knocked her down. Landon moved quickly, turning the table on its side to use the solid and thick wood top as a shield as the gunshots continued to ring out.

  Jocelyn had already been ducking when he’d called out—because she’d noticed the same look between Luther and the bailiff that Landon must have. The judge probably had, too, because he’d dropped down behind the bench. Hopefully before he’d been hit.

  Landon had been allowed his weapon in court, so he returned fire. The other bodyguards and the chief hopefully had been allowed theirs, as well.

  Shots rang out all around them...until finally either everyone had run out of ammunition like Landon, who’d replaced his clip twice—or they were dead. The sudden silence was nearly as deafening as all the gunfire had been, or maybe her ears were damaged from the noise and close shots.

  “Are you okay?” she whispered. Or at least she thought she was whispering; her words reverberated inside her skull, though, as if she’d shouted.

  “Yes,” Landon whispered back, his mouth close to her ear as he continued to crouch protectively over her—just as he’d promised he would. They had kept their vow to each other that they would survive the trial.

  So far they had anyway. But the trial really wasn’t over yet.

  “Is it safe?” she wondered aloud.

  “Luther is gone,” Landon replied as he peered over the edge of the thick table.

  She gasped. “He’s dead?”

  “No. He’s gone,” Landon regretfully replied. “He made it out of the courtroom with a shield of shooters surrounding him.”

  And she heard it now, the shots ringing out elsewhere in the courthouse. Hopefully he would not get out of the building, though.

  “How about everybody else?” she anxiously asked. “Are they all right?”

  Landon moved to stand up, but she pulled him back down, worried that it wasn’t safe yet. “Wait, wait!” she advised him. Some of Luther’s shooters could have stayed behind; maybe they weren’t out of ammunition yet.

  He leaned forward and kissed her. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “All of Luther’s crew are either with him or dead.” He stood up then and helped her to her feet.

  And she saw that the bailiff was dead. He must have been working for Luther. He had to be the one who’d smuggled all those guns into the courtroom for Luther and his crew in the gallery. The guns must have been taped beneath the seats and the defendant’s table.

  “Judge Holmes!” she called out.

  The gray-haired judge rose shakily from behind the bench and gazed around his courtroom. He shuddered at the destruction and carnage.

  And Jocelyn looked around, seeing what he saw. The holes in the walls and furniture and the blood everywhere.

  She cried out, then pressed a hand over her mouth to hold back a louder scream. So many of those young men who’d been sitting on Luther’s side of the courtroom were dead. Even his lawyer lay cowering on the ground, his briefcase held over his head as if he was afraid that someone might blow it off his shoulders.

  She was afraid to look at the other side, at where Landon had been sitting with his boss and some of the Payne Protection Agency bodyguards.

  Landon shouted, “Is everyone okay?”

  Parker and those other bodyguards were checking on Luther’s fallen crew members and collecting their weapons. The only one sitting behind the prosecutor’s side of the courtroom was the chief. He was slumped on the bench seat, his hand pressed to his shoulder. He had been hit.

  “Chief Lynch!” Jocelyn rushed over to him.

  Parker rushed to the chief’s side, too, but the bodyguard’s stepfather waved them off. “Go after him! Don’t let him get away!”

  All the bodyguards hastened to follow his orders, rushing out of the courtroom. Except for Landon...

  He stayed beside her with his gun in one hand and his cell in the other. He dialed 911.

  “Help’s on the way,” she assured the chief of police.

  “I’m fine,” he told her even as he flinched. “The bullet went right through my shoulder.”

  From the amount of blood oozing from the wound, she suspected it had done some damage on its way out, though. She pulled her scarf from her neck and wadded it up against his wound.

  The chief’s face was pale, but his grasp was strong when he covered her hand with his, which was bloodied from his wound. “Luther...” he murmured urgently at her. “They’ve got to get Luther...”

  Unlike the chief, who was injured, and all those other people who lay dead on the floor, she doubted the drug dealer even had a scratch on him. But he could not be as invincible as he thought he was.

  “He just got out of the room,” she told the chief. “He won’t get out of the courthouse.” There were guards at all of the exits, and the bodyguards had gone after him.

  He would not get away.

  But Jocelyn and Landon exchanged an uneasy glance. Even if Luther did manage to escape, though, the two of them would be fine. They, strengthened from the love they shared, would keep each other safe—just as they had during the shoot-out, and like they would for the rest of their lives together.

  Forever...

  * * *

  WE HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS BOOK FROM

  Danger. Passion. Drama.

  These heart-racing page-turners will keep you guessing to the very end. Experience the thrill of unexpected plot twists and irresistible chemistry.

  4 NEW BOOKS AVAILABLE EVERY MONTH!

  Love Harlequin romance?

&
nbsp; DISCOVER.

  Be the first to find out about promotions, news and exclusive content!

  Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks

  Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks

  Instagram.com/HarlequinBooks

  Pinterest.com/HarlequinBooks

  ReaderService.com

  EXPLORE.

  Sign up for the Harlequin e-newsletter and download a free book from any series at

  TryHarlequin.com

  CONNECT.

  Join our Harlequin community to share your thoughts and connect with other romance readers!

  Facebook.com/groups/HarlequinConnection

  ISBN-13: 9781488071539

  Close Quarters with the Bodyguard

  Copyright © 2021 by Lisa Childs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  For questions and comments about the quality of this book, please contact us at CustomerService@Harlequin.com.

  Harlequin Enterprises ULC

  22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor

  Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada

  www.Harlequin.com

  “Since you came with warnings, I guess I should, too,” she told Greg before she could second-guess herself.

  He grinned. “Shoot,” he said, his eyelids lowered in a way that called out to her. Jasmine liked him this way—all relaxed and laid-back.

  But she had to say what she had to say.

  “I’m not looking for forever,” she said, making her intent as clear as possible. “Not now. Not ever.”

  “Ever’s a long time off,” he said, still with a hint of a smile—not so much on his lips, but in his eyes.

  She turned, frowning, and took his hand. “I mean it, Greg. I am not going to get married. Or even live with a partner ever again.”

  She’d had a hard past. She had scars that were not going to go away.

  * * *

  If you’re on Twitter, tell us what you think of Harlequin Romantic Suspense! #harlequinromsuspense

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to a place where your secrets are safe. A place where you will be seen and heard for who you are inside, not for who you might appear to be. Where you are seen through the heart of you, and where no one is expected to be perfect. An intense place where moments aren’t always safe.

  Falling for His Suspect is truly a book of my deepest heart. It’s the story of a woman’s determination to live her best life with a damaged spirit, a woman who has the courage to be who she is no matter what society thinks of her. And the courage to fight for what matters most. A woman who still believes in truth in spite of the lies that hid an ugly upbringing. A woman who leads with her heart every single time and won’t settle for less than love. And it’s the story of a hero who has what it takes to love and fight for a strong, independent, big-hearted woman.

  I hope, as you read, you find pieces of yourself on these pages—enough to be filled with your own strength and courage and belief in a love great enough to conquer all.

  Tara Taylor Quinn

  FALLING FOR

  HIS SUSPECT

  Tara Taylor Quinn

  Having written over ninety novels, Tara Taylor Quinn is a USA TODAY bestselling author with more than seven million copies sold. She is known for delivering intense, emotional fiction. Tara is a past president of Romance Writers of America and a seven-time RITA® Award finalist. She has also appeared on TV across the country, including CBS Sunday Morning. She supports the National Domestic Violence Hotline. If you need help, please contact 1-800-799-7233.

  Books by Tara Taylor Quinn

  Harlequin Romantic Suspense

  Where Secrets are Safe

  Her Detective’s Secret Intent

  Shielded in the Shadows

  Falling for His Suspect

  The Coltons of Grave Gulch

  Colton’s Killer Pursuit

  Colton 911: Grand Rapids

  Colton 911: Family Defender

  The Coltons of Mustang Valley

  Colton’s Lethal Reunion

  Visit the Author Profile page at

  Harlequin.com for more titles.

  For Tim, I am thankful every single day that you have what it takes.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  CHAPTER 1

  “Sis... I’m sorry to call you so early...but...”

  “Josh?” Jasmine Taylor glanced toward the window as she sat up, noting the darkness between the cracks in the closed blinds. “What’s wrong?”

  Heart pounding, she pushed her legs out from under the covers and over the side of the bed. Her brother wouldn’t be calling predawn just to say hello.

  “Danny called.” Her brother named his best friend from high school, who also happened to be a cop. That didn’t assuage anxiety any as her brain quickly jumped from one family member to the next. Anyone they’d get middle-of-the-night calls for. Mom and Aunt Suzie, who lived together back in New York, where they’d grown up, were on a cruise with a group of people from their church. The privately litigated, no-contact agreement with their dad probably precluded notifications.

  “There’s a warrant out for my arrest, Jas. I plan to turn myself in first thing this morning. I need you to keep Bella. Please...”

  “Of course.” Every nerve in Jasmine’s body jittered. Standing in her bedroom, she forced her knees to find their strength. Fear would not win. Whatever the police had found was a mistake. No matter what. Josh was one of the good guys. Through and through.

  She was already pulling on black capri pants and reaching for the cropped white blouse she usually wore with them. “I’ll come get her.”

  “I’m actually on my way to you. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  Coming from his home in Santa Barbara, he’d have had to have been on the road over half an hour before he called. And had to have pulled his three-year-old out of bed in the middle of her night.

  “What’s going on?”

  Josh was the only guy she really trusted.

  “Heidi’s going on,” he said, sounding frustrated in spite of his soft tone. “She filed a complaint of spousal abuse.”

  “What!” She shook her head. And then, “Heidi?” Her squeal was decibels louder than she’d have liked. “What the hell?” His ex-wife was the abuser—she was the reason why Josh, a businessman who also ran a string of nonprofit sports training centers for at-risk teenaged boys, was raising a toddler daughter on his own.

  “She wants shared parenting,” he said now, his voice lower than ever, as though his most likely sleeping toddler would hear, and understand, the conversation. “She threatened to claim
I was abusing her if I didn’t comply.”

  “That’s stupid.” Jasmine said the first thing that came to mind. Because...this was Josh. They were each other’s safe places. “She’s already been convicted of abuse, which is why she lost custody to begin with. And the law says you have to wait five years before a judge can give it back, right? Claiming you’re abusive isn’t going to get Bella back to her, either. But it could leave Bella in the hands of Child Protective Services if the system got wonked and someone believes her.” She heard her words aloud. “Not that that’s going to happen,” she quickly assured him. “You know it’s not. You’ve got a lifetime of people who will back you up. Besides, she’d have to have some kind of proof.”

  “She fell and sprained her wrist,” he said, sounding more defeated than she’d ever heard. Even when he’d had to admit that he was a victim of domestic violence. Again. “She’s claiming that I grabbed her, yanked her and sprained it.”

  “With your bare hands?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’d need pictures of bruises to corroborate that.” Brain in fully awake, fighting mode now, Jasmine strode to the kitchen to put coffee on for him, checking Bella’s room on the way to ensure that it was clean and ready as it always was. She had a room for Josh, too. One he’d occupied during the dark days after his marriage had fallen apart—while he’d been in the process of fighting for his daughter and buying a new home for them both.

  A home without destructive memories lining the walls.

  “Heidi had a guy at the gym grab her wrist as resistance, as she tried to push past him, and then took a picture of the marks he left. She showed me the photo.”

  “Before she fell?”

  “Yeah, the wrist isn’t bruised in the picture.”

  “Is there a time stamp on it? If her doctor’s report for the sprain doesn’t match up with the photo time frame...” She knew her stuff. Not just from the years of growing up with an abusive father, but because she spent forty hours a week teaching elementary school at The Lemonade Stand—a unique, resort-like women’s shelter in Santa Raquel. She’d spent countless more hours volunteering at the Stand when her classroom hours were over. You spent enough time there, you heard all the stories.