Harlequin Romantic Suspense July 2021 Box Set

by Carla Cassidy

  “We both stood up as our father approached.” She gave a shrug, a small smile in memory of those two kids who’d stood up for themselves way back then, having no idea about what standing up for yourself really meant.

  “I knew I was going to get it, but I also knew that Josh was safe behind me. When my father hit me, Josh could run and get Mom. Or just run...”

  She could still remember so clearly knowing that. That Josh would be safe. What she couldn’t remember was why on earth she’d opened her mouth.

  “I told my father that my teacher said that no one should hit kids,” she said, shaking her head. “He flew into a rage,” she continued, throwing the rest out there without needing to call up any memories. “I hunched, tucking my face, and suddenly Josh was there, pushing in front of me, putting himself right in front of my father’s approaching blows. I couldn’t believe it. He was supposed to run for Mom. To get himself safe. I was the one who hadn’t done my job. I pushed back at Josh. Hard. There was no way I was going to let him in front of me.”

  She stopped for a moment. Breathing as she knew to do. Allowing any residual negative emotion to wash over her and fade, as she knew it would. Taking another sip of tea. Lavender was calming. She also liked the taste of it. A pleasant sensation to replace ones that were less so.

  She had this.

  “But he got in front of you anyway?” Greg asked, confusing her for a second. She then remembered that she’d told this story because it was about the first time Josh had protected her from their father. The detective was waiting to hear how Josh had saved the day.

  “No, he fell and broke the glass inset on the coffee table, gashing his shoulder blade. We spent the next few hours in the emergency room while Josh got twenty-four stitches on his back. The shard of glass missed his neck by a couple of inches.”

  Thank God for that.

  For saving her sweet and wonderful brother from more severe consequences due to her ghastly mistake.

  Their father had had a lot to say to her during those hours. “You see what happens when you try to disobey a parent?” She could still hear his next words: “My rules are set for a reason. They’re designed to teach you life lessons, not school lessons. Discipline is necessary. Without it you and your brother will never be able to live happy, productive lives.”

  Their mother, looking sick and loving and concerned, had nodded at that as Jasmine, who’d been huddling against her, turned to look up. The nurse had come in then to check on Josh, who’d been eating chocolate ice cream, and to let them know that they were processing the paperwork for the accident as a result of siblings roughhousing so they could go home. There’d been no reason to think of Josh’s injury as anything other than what her wealthy, respected parents reported. There were no prior visits on record. No visible evidence of previous injuries.

  She hadn’t looked at her mother during her father’s next speech, ten or so minutes later.

  “None of this would have happened if you’d just listened to me to begin with. Your teacher’s job is to give you math and science skills. My job is to raise a decent, moral human being who will be a positive contribution to society, not a drain on it. I always only want what’s best for you. That’s something you’re too young to understand now, but you’ll get it later. When you grow up and have your own kids. But this you need to get now—I have an obligation to you, and to society, one that the law gives me, to raise you kids. Until you are eighteen, my word is your law.”

  You’d think she’d have gotten it. Learned to keep her mouth shut. She had, eventually, at least when it was her own concerns at issue.

  “Were you punished for pushing him?” Greg Johnson’s words pulled her back from the brink of falling back too many years. To before she’d had adult counseling, when such memories still had the power to take over her brain.

  “No,” she said, fast-forwarding back to Lila’s office. To giving testimony to the man helping them. “My parents knew I was only trying to keep Josh from taking my punishment.”

  Josh had made Jasmine swear a promise that night. If he ever stepped up to help her, she had to let him.

  He was bigger than she was, he’d pointed out. And he wouldn’t just stand by and watch his sister get hurt.

  She’d agreed. Hadn’t felt like she’d had much other choice, based on his reasoning and the fact that he was lying propped up oddly in bed with a sling. He wasn’t going to stop trying to save her, no matter what she said, and she couldn’t take a chance on him getting injured again.

  She’d agreed, too, because no matter what anyone said, she knew him being hurt was her fault. For a second there she’d been mad at Josh for rushing forward, for putting himself in danger. She’d always wondered if maybe she’d shoved too hard because of that.

  Coming back to the present, she answered more of Greg’s questions, sipping her tea, feeling almost as calm as she sounded. Counseling, working through things, really did work. You could grow up in hell and find a way back to living with joy.

  It was true what they said about facing your fears taking away their sting.

  Until they backhanded you out of the blue.

  Like Heidi was doing.

  And then, if you lived right, if you were lucky, a good detective caught your case. Sometimes you didn’t have to do it all alone.

  Sometimes protection knocked on your door looking for truth.

  CHAPTER 6

  Greg didn’t spend a lot of time in his office. It made him itchy. Seriously. For ten years he’d practically lived on the second floor of the county court building, home to the prosecutor’s office. Area restaurants knew his number by heart. He’d dial, they’d pick up and ask if he wanted his usual.

  When Liv had come into his life, he’d eaten at home more. And then less, again, the more he’d needed to escape from her.

  He was what he was. And at the exact moment he entered his office on Friday afternoon, he knew he wasn’t going to change. It just hit him. No matter how much he might wish he was a different kind of guy, capable of understanding softer emotions in a more supportive way or understanding them at all—he wasn’t that guy. He wasn’t Rick. And definitely not Josh Taylor. Not only was he not an abuser, he also could not, in any way see himself dedicating his life to raising a toddler singlehandedly.

  The whole idea of it gave him hives.

  The kid would get its feelings hurt for some reason unclear to him, and he’d need to go lift weights. Again and again.

  Once a day, from 5:00 to 6:00 a.m., was enough for him. A guy his size couldn’t afford to get much bigger.

  He had to get Jasmine Taylor out of his head. All this soul searching wasn’t good for him. Cramped up his thinking. Put him in a foul mood.

  As did the folder he found sitting on top of his desk. Left there by William Brubaker, assistant prosecutor in charge of the Taylor case.

  He read the paperwork, a new filing related to their case, but completely separate from it as far as the court system was concerned. It had been left for him as an informational piece of the puzzle, not one requiring immediate action on his part.

  Heidi Taylor’s lawyer had filed a suit with the court to have Bella removed from Jasmine Taylor’s custody, claiming, of all things, that Josh’s sister had been abusive in the past.

  Fake confession aside, there was no evidence that Jasmine had ever hurt her niece, as noted in the filing. No proof even of any hint that Bella had been hurt by anyone other than Heidi. And because Child Protective Services had just recently vetted Jasmine and placed the child with her, the only nearby living relative Bella had other than her parents, Bella was to continue to remain with her temporarily while allegations against Jasmine were investigated. There were no grounds for a restraining order. And yet, Heidi had convinced her attorney to file the motion.

  It seemed the woman would rather have her child in foster care than at hom
e with her aunt. Just as Jasmine had claimed. Against his better judgment, he picked up his cell. Pushed to dial another cell. Private to private.

  “Greg? Detective Johnson, I’m sorry, what’s up?” Jasmine’s voice was breathy, like she’d either picked up on the run or was emotionally distressed in some way.

  “Is this a bad time?” He knew her classes were through for the day. She could be out with Bella. Or even home already.

  “No. I was just moving some bookcases into my classroom,” she said. “They were donated today.”

  “There’s no one there to help you do that?”

  “Of course there is. I just didn’t want to wait!” She sounded...happy...about used bookcases. He thought about hanging up on Jasmine.

  About Liv’s good moods doing complete 180s on a dime and him being dizzy with the quick turn. But Jasmine wasn’t his girlfriend, past or present, he reminded himself.

  “Have you heard from the court today?”

  “No, why?”

  “Have you been inside The Lemonade Stand all day?”

  “Yes, why? What’s going on?” He didn’t miss the sharpening tone. Or blame her for it, either, really.

  “Just didn’t know if anyone had been to see you. Heidi filed a motion to try to have Bella moved to foster care.”

  “What!” The shrill tone had him pulling the phone back from his ear. Shrugging out of his suit jacket and, hand in his pocket, strolling over to the window. He didn’t have an ocean view. Or even a city one. He saw mountains. And liked what he saw.

  Mountains he could climb. Had climbed every peak within his current view. Multiple times.

  “On what grounds?” Her question broke into his mental reveries.

  “She fears that you have abusive tendencies.”

  Silence fell on the line. He let it sit there.

  Many seconds later Jasmine said, “She fears—I’ve never—She has absolutely no grounds—What kind of mother would rather see her three-year-old in foster care than with a family member she knows and loves?”

  He’d asked the same question moments ago. Seconds ago, too. And yet, Jasmine had put herself under suspicion with that false confession.

  “One who is truly that afraid for her child’s safety?” His only goal was the truth.

  “One whose need to lash out and hurt someone is more powerful than her maternal instincts,” she shot right back. “She’ll be telling herself Bella will be just fine in foster care for a short time. That the state will watch out for her, which they will, of course. But to what emotional toll on a sensitive and bright little girl who will be scared to death away from the homes and loved ones she knows?” Jasmine’s voice rose. So did Greg’s gaze—to the top of the tallest peak. He’d been up there the previous spring. With his father. Had a picture of it on his phone.

  “This is just...wow. One part of me can believe it, but... No, I really can’t believe it. Not even from her.”

  She started to ask Greg questions, and he had to cut her off. Let Jasmine know that, at that point, his involvement was only informational, that there was nothing more he could tell her or do for her. Which raised a question she didn’t ask, but probably should have. “Why are you still talking to me, then?”

  He brooded over it the rest of the afternoon.

  * * *

  Jasmine didn’t want to leave The Lemonade Stand that day. For so many reasons. Some parts of her, in spite of all her healing and good emotional and mental health, suddenly craved the sanctity inside the Stand. The women there, they were all as one inside those walls. No one could get her there. Serve her any notices. Or worse.

  No one could touch Bella, either. At least not easily. They’d have to do a lot more than file a lame motion to breach the security of protection, figuratively and literally. Harper Davidson, the newly remarried head of security, and her staff of fifteen, lived life on alert.

  Lila would let her stay. All she’d have to do was let the managing director know that she didn’t feel safe going home.

  Something stopped her from going that far, though. The bungalows at the Stand were at nearly full capacity. The spaces that remained should be left for women afraid for their lives. Jasmine wasn’t. Heidi wasn’t going to do any physical damage to her. Or to Bella, either, for that matter.

  And Jasmine had to go home.

  Josh was getting his first supervised visit with Bella that night. Coming over to Jasmine’s for dinner. She’d made his favorite—chicken alfredo—the night before and it was waiting in the refrigerator for her to reheat.

  She’d tell him about Heidi’s new motion and they’d figure this out. Hopefully she’d have a chance to speak with him without the social worker present. Video calls were wonderful, but she needed some in-person time for this one, weak though that made her feel.

  She wasn’t weak. And Heidi was not going to win.

  * * *

  Bella was so happy to see her dad that night she peed her pants. Jumping up and down and laughing, she stopped suddenly and looked up at him. Josh knelt down to his daughter.

  “I just let go a little,” she said, scooting her tennis shoe–shod feet apart and looking at the small darkening trickle heading down her little pink leggings. And then she giggled and held her arms up for him to pick her up.

  Lifting her into the air above his head, both hands securely around her little body, Josh said, “Bet you can’t make me pee,” and flew her like an airplane into the house to change her pants.

  Marianne Lyons, the social worker, had gotten out of a car across the street as soon as Josh pulled into the driveway. She followed right behind him into Jasmine’s house. They’d yet to be introduced, but Josh had told her he’d met Marianne twice that week. While Josh didn’t like having her in his life, in his relationship with his daughter, he trusted the woman and felt like she’d truly do what was best for Bella. In the end, that was all that mattered to Josh.

  Dinner was actually quite nice. Marianne sat at the table and ate with them, but she was more like wallpaper then a dinner companion. Bella had been introduced to her, but she was so glad to be with her daddy, who entertained her the entire meal with silly games and antics to get her try new tastes and eat every one of her green beans, that the social worker could just as easily have not been there. Watching Marianne as Josh played on the floor with Bella in the new toddler-size playhouse he’d brought in after dinner, Jasmine was really impressed. Jasmine couldn’t figure out what in particular she did to fade, but whatever it was, she did it so well the entire evening passed almost naturally.

  Josh was allowed to put Bella to bed and read her a story on his own—Marianne just stood out in the hallway, watching through the crack in the open door. Then Jasmine, having just finished the dishes, mentioned that she’d like a moment to have a private word with her brother. The older woman offered to stay, to sit in the living room and listen for Bella, so the siblings could have some time together.

  “I’m hoping that after another visit or two we won’t need Marianne here,” Josh told her as he followed her out to the deck. “My lawyer is writing a motion to ask the court to allow you to be our chaperone.”

  Her stomach knotted so tightly she wished she hadn’t eaten any of the dinner. Still in the navy leggings and long blue plaid shirtdress she’d worn to work that day, she thought about loosening the thin belt around her waist.

  She told her brother about the motion Heidi had filed that day instead. One she’d yet to see. She jumped right in. Had to get it over with.

  “I have no idea how this works,” she told Josh as she sat in the same chair she’d been in the other night with Greg and, elbows on her knees, leaned in toward her brother. Part of his face was in shadows, but the motion-sensor lights let her see the immediate tightening of his lips. “Do I get served?” she asked.

  “She must not have filed a restraining order or you
’d have already been served.”

  “She had no grounds to file one.” Jasmine had never so much as spoken harshly to Bella or been in any way abusive to Heidi, either. To the contrary, she’d loved the woman like a sister—continuing to try to get her to get help for herself when it became obvious that she’d crossed a dangerous line.

  “She’s become pretty well versed on California family and domestic violence law over the past couple of years,” Josh said. “She had to know that with no proof, no evidence, she’d lose a bid for the restraining order, so didn’t go that route. She doesn’t want to throw doubt on her credibility.”

  A sense of familiarity washed over her. Oddly calming. She and Josh had spent the past two years in huddles just like this one. Discussing Heidi. Deciphering. Josh understood his ex-wife better than anyone. And the way to beat her disease was to know what she was thinking and somehow expose that to those who were working on her behalf.

  “I just have no idea if that’s a good thing for us, or not,” Josh was saying. “Is she rational enough that she knows she can’t go that far? Or is she so far gone she’s being almost diabolical in her approach to this? Calculating every single aspect of some thoroughly developed plan...”

  Heidi was smart. Sometimes too smart for her own good.

  Fear stabbed Jasmine, swift and cruel, heightened by her own false confession. “She’s afraid that I have abusive tendencies... My God, Josh, what do I do to prove that there’s no basis in that? How do you prove that someone’s fear is ungrounded?” She stopped when she heard her voice getting louder. And heard the high note of panic, too. Josh didn’t need to deal with her on top of everything else.

  This was her time to be strong for him.

  But...

  “My job... I could lose everything. There’s no way I’d have clearance to work at the Stand if I can’t even qualify for custody of my own niece.”