Love Dangerously

By Suzanne D. Williams

Wrong place, wrong time, right woman.

Abe Beckett's family pedigree pushed him toward joining the police force years ago, then, ultimately, pushed him away. He didn't want to be like "dear old dad".

Yet, confronted by an armed robber at the Austrian food truck in the city park, his instincts kick back in. His new profession as a male midwife doesn't seem to stop his cop brain from working.

The presence of the curvaceous blonde, Vienna Stumpf, who runs the truck, does. But what begins as an argument soon holds possibilities of way more, until her family's missing jewelry and the suspicious behavior of a man he's trusted threaten to tear it all apart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: May 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533723710

Suzanne D. Williams

Best-selling author, Suzanne D. Williams, is a native Floridian, wife, mother, and photographer. She is the author of both nonfiction and fiction books. She writes a monthly column for Steves-Digicams.com on the subject of digital photography, as well as devotionals and instructional articles for various blogs. She also does graphic design for self-publishing authors. She is co-founder of THE EDGE. To learn more about what she’s doing and check out her extensive catalogue of stories, visit http://suzanne-williams-photography.blogspot.com/ or link with her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/suzannedwilliamsauthor.

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SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

www.feelgoodromance.com

© 2015 LOVE DANGEROUSLY by Suzanne D. Williams

www.feelgoodromance.com

www.suzannedwilliams.com

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

CHAPTER 1

The extensive cleavage of the girl in the Austrian food truck didn’t help Abe Beckett’s bad mood. On any other day, he would have stared, flirted even, but he’d been up since two a.m.

Guten morgan, she said in a perky voice. What will you have?

He stabbed his finger in the direction of the sausages. One of those.

With a nod, she placed a link on a plate and slid it his way. That’ll be ...

He barely registered the amount, flinging a twenty on the small ledge and pocketing the change. Descending to a wooden picnic table, he picked up the plastic silverware she’d included and cut a slice, stuffing the bite in his mouth.

Heat sparked across his tongue, scalding his lips. Eyes distended, hand waving in front of his face, he spit it out and searched for any cooling liquid. The guy beside him cracked the lid of a fresh bottle of water. Abe snatched it from his fingers and shoved it to his own lips.

Hey! the guy shouted.

It took only seconds to drain it dry, and the fire in his mouth now spread to his head. Abe’s anger flared. Stomping from the table to the window, he broke into the line of customers, the plate in his hand, and raised his voice. Are you trying to kill me? he asked the girl.

Blue eyes wide, the girl turned, a shaft of sunlight brightening the two silky braids wound around her head. What’s the problem, sir?

"The problem is this is hot enough to cook my insides and not what I ordered." He slapped his plate down on the ledge and pushed it her way.

She eyed the contents, making no effort to touch it. "That is what you ordered, the hot and spicy debreciner."

Hot and spicy? Did I say ‘hot and spicy’ at any point in time?

You said, ‘One of those.’ she returned.

Yeah, ‘one of those.’ He pointed again.

She turned her head only briefly. My apologies for the confusion, she replied, her gaze returning to his face. I’ll be happy to correct it and throw in a free dessert of your choice.

Dessert. As if he could eat anything now and not taste the sausage.

Just give me my money back.

She disappeared, and he leaned there, waiting. When she didn’t reappear, he kinked his neck to see better through the small opening. "Hello? I don’t have all day. Some of us have to do real work." Something besides cook sausages. Something profitable.

No response came, and his anger simmered. She was going to gyp him now? This day just got better and better.

Of all the nerve ... Stomping away from the window, he rounded the end of the food truck toward the workers’ entrance and found it ajar. Taking hold of the handle, he flung it back. A gun barrel met him right between the eyes.

Put ’em up, growled a man’s voice.

Abe raised his hands over his head and tried to maintain his calm. Listen, there’s no need for this ....

No, you listen, the thief replied. I want all the cash or the blonde gets it.

The blonde, the girl who ran the truck, was sprawled in the floor, the skirt of her folk costume hiked up over a very nice set of legs. Her awkward position didn’t stop her from speaking. No. You can’t have it. It’s our money.

Abe furrowed his brow. Was she really that dumb? This guy had a gun. Give it to him, he said. I don’t particularly want to die for a few bucks and a handful of sausages.

What made sense to him, however, only worsened her mood. Nice. Our lives are threatened, and you’re cracking jokes.

The gun pressed harder against Abe’s skull, and a sharp pain spiked backwards.

The thief’s panic increased. The money. Now.

Abe took a longer look at him. He was jittery, coming down off something, and sweating through his ski mask. This was drug money then. I have hydrocodone in my car, Abe said. Why don’t you let the girl go and follow me? I’ll give you all you want.

The man’s hands shook, his fingers tremoring. You have hydrocodone?

Yes, but you have to put the gun down to get it.

The thief ran his free hand over his forehead.

Caucasian, mid-twenties, long-time drug user by the looks of him. "Then I’ll take that and the money, he said. He turned his head toward the girl. Now, get me the cash."

She pushed up from the floor and slid her hands down the food-smeared counter toward a small, metal box. You don’t have to do this, she said. We work so hard for what little we make. Think of how much trouble you’ll be in ...

The thief’s gun shook harder. Give it to me. Hooking his fingers around the box, he yanked it from the girl’s grasp, in that instant, lowering his weapon a fraction.

It was enough. Reaching in his waistband, Abe pulled out a revolver and swung the barrel toward the thief’s head. Before he could cock the hammer though, the girl gave an ear-splitting shriek.

Take that!

The thief let out an unearthly scream, and a spurt of blood arched across the ceiling of the truck and down the door. At the same time, his weapon went off. The retort of the gun scattered people in the park and general bedlam ensued. A nearby food truck shut its windows with a clank.

Abe ducked, another curse word expelled from his lips, and in so doing, fell over the thief now crumpled in a heap. One leg hooked over the guy’s waist, his own rump stinging, he stared at the massive kitchen knife protruding from the man’s shoulder.

A scowl rose on Abe’s face. Shoving to his feet, he captured his gun from where it’d fallen. What did you do that for?