Harlequin Romantic Suspense April 2021 by Karen Whiddon (good e books to read txt) 📗

word. He turned and headed to the family room. Seconds later, Connie heard the television, and the sound of his giggles drifted from the other room.

“You do know that this next child is probably going to have your personality, right?”

Trinity’s shoulder slumped, and she leaned against the counter. “Yeah, and it scares me to death. Gunner wants a girl and that terrifies me even more.”

“That would be so cool. Then you’ll have a little Mini-Me,” Connie gushed, thinking how she would love to have a little girl of her own. It was something she used to think about often, but after she and Quincy parted ways, that dream left with him. Until lately. The other night she had dreamed that she and Trace had gotten married, and she was pregnant with their first child. Connie had woken up in his guest room, and hearing him bumping around in the condo made the dream seem that much more real.

“I don’t think I can handle a Mini-Me,” Trinity said, interrupting Connie’s thoughts. “My mother often tells stories of how I was a little terror growing up. She also says that payback’s a you-know-what.” Trinity waved her hand as if dismissing the notion. “But, anyway, getting back to what we were talking about. I think you should consider keeping Trace around.”

“If I agree with you, can we change the subject?”

Trinity narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure because that was a little too easy. I had this great speech planned and you’re ruining it.”

Connie shook her head, laughing.

“But I will say this, sis. Trace adores you, and he’s worried. We both are. So heads up—he’s probably going to try planting himself into your life one way or another.”

The doorbell rang before Connie could respond, and Trinity went to the door. Trace had already made it clear that he was around to stay, at least until the robbers were caught. Connie would be lying if she said that the incident at the restaurant hadn’t shaken her a little. Yet she didn’t want a bodyguard, or someone following her around 24/7. As for Trace being in her life for other reasons? Connie was warming up to that idea.

“Hey, baby girl,” Maxwell said to Connie when he strolled into the kitchen with his arm looped around Trinity’s shoulder. The brother and sister were a couple of years apart, but when they stood that close to each other, they could be twins. At over six feet tall and built like Trace, Maxwell was handsome with skin a deep shade of mahogany and a smile that could brighten the darkest day.

“Hey, yourself.” Connie wiped her hands on a dish towel and moved around the counter to hug him. “Trinity didn’t mention you were coming to dinner.”

“I wasn’t planning on it, but when I found out Trace was here, I figured I’d stop by.” He held up a folded sheet of paper and glanced around. “Where is he? I have something for him.”

“He’s on the deck with Gunner.”

“Uncle Max!” Jonah yelled. He tore out of the family room and leaped into Maxwell’s arms.

“What’s up, li’l man?”

“Nothing, but Mommy won’t let me have a cupcake.”

Maxwell laughed and tickled his nephew, who fell into a fit of giggles. “I guess I need to talk to that mommy of yours, huh?”

Jonah nodded vigorously. “Yes. Can you tell her to give me one? The yellow one?”

“Jonah, I’m not changing my mind,” Trinity said simply and placed dinnerware and utensils on the counter. “Go see if Daddy is finished barbecuing.”

After Maxwell walked out with Jonah in his arms, Connie and Trinity organized the food on the long center island.

“Before they come trampling in here, think about what I was saying. If you don’t officially want personal security, at least continue hanging out with Trace. I know he won’t let anything happen to you, and it’ll make me feel better knowing someone has your back.”

Connie pulled the lemonade that Trinity had made earlier from the refrigerator and set it on the center island next to the glasses. “Did Trace put you up to this?”

“No, but he did ask my opinion. He wanted to know if I thought there was a chance you could be in danger.”

Connie trusted her friend’s instinct. “Do you? Do you think there’s a possibility that those guys will realize that I saw part of one of their tattoos? Or that I worked with a sketch artist?”

“At first, I didn’t really think so, but there’s too much we don’t know. Will the guy you made eye contact with remember what you look like? Like, you remember his eye color, but he might recall your hazel eyes. Does he have the ability and resources to find out who you are and hunt you down? Those are things no one knows.”

Unease clawed through Connie, and she tried to steady her breathing. “I doubt he’d go to the trouble. I didn’t see much of him.”

“That’s true. I didn’t start to really get concerned until hearing about what happened at the restaurant. You know I don’t believe in coincidences. You said the man’s eye color was unusual and that his eyes looked familiar. Then you run into someone whose eyes are identical to the bank robber? Too much of a coincidence for me.”

“Maybe, but I’m not a hundred percent sure about anything. Besides, I can’t remember seeing a tattoo on the guy. So at this point, I don’t trust my judgment or my memory.”

“I get it. When I was a cop, we could interview ten different people who claimed to have witnessed the same crime, and all ten would give different accounts. Everyone notices different things. That’s just how it is.”

“I guess, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about this situation.”

“That’s okay. Right now, my main concern is that we’re looking out for you. At least think about it. I’d rather you have someone by your side and not need them than to need them and not have anyone.”

“All right, all right. I hope you