Love & Justice: Romantic Suspense Collection

By Suzanne D. Williams

★★★★★ Readers Reviews:  "Sweet. Endearing. Passionate. Loved it!" | "James Bond on the fast track." | "A joy to read." | "Full of suspense and thrills" | "Steamy who-don-it" | "Humor, romance, suspense, and even some surprises along the way"

 

LOVE DANGEROUSLY

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.

 

FOR TONIGHT

The biggest serial killer in town history walked out the precinct doors, and Detective Irina Faussett has his attorney, her father, to thank. What she needs is a night out on the town to blow off some steam. But a handsome unknown male and a lot of body heat generate a fateful decision, which, six weeks later, brings huge consequences. Her life has just become much more complicated, even more so when her one-night stand, attorney, Brady Cheswick, walks back into her life in spectacular fashion.

Caught up in a love affair she isn't sure she wants to end, chasing a serial killer now making death threats, one final, horrible secret then turns her already disorganized world upside down.

 

COPS & ROBBERS

Justin Cahill's first case as a homicide detective walked into the middle of his promotion celebration wearing a very short, polka-dotted skirt and an amazing set of red heels. Olivia Dircks. She said she'd found a body and wanted the police to know. But when the body goes missing and she turns out to be the Commissioner's niece as well as a professional art thief, everything changes. This case is deeper and more far-reaching than anything he expected. Deep enough to alter the most valuable thing of all – his heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Suzanne D. Williams
• Release date: Oct 17, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386716624

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.

Book preview

ROMANTIC SUSPENSE COLLECTION

SUZANNE D. WILLIAMS

FEEL-GOOD ROMANCE

© 2016 LOVE & JUSTICE:  Romantic Suspense Collection 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.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Love Dangerously

For Tonight

Cops & Robbers

About The Author

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?

The girl stood triumphant over top, her eyes glowing. He’s not taking our money. We work hard for what we earn.

You could have gotten us both killed. I had it handled.

Her eyes narrowed to slits. Yeah, I see how well you handled it. You were going to feed his addiction.

Feed his addic ... Listen, you dumb ... He stopped himself from calling her a name. I wasn’t going to give it to him, but it would have gotten him away from your truck. So much for me being Mr. Nice Guy.

More like the big hero. That’s what you wanted, huh? She curved her hands over her hips. "You walk around with a gun in your belt all the time? I’ll bet that feeds your ego. For your information, you did order the spicy sausage. I’m not blind."

His anger returned. I ordered it? No way. I hate spicy food. In fact, I ...

The groan of the thief shut him up. Abe glanced down. Now was not the time to argue over food. I don’t suppose you can call the cops. He’s going to need an ambulance, and you’ve just put yourself out of business for the day.

A curse word fell from her lips.

Abe ignored it. Kneeling at the man’s side, he inspected the wound. It was deep, would need some serious care. Definitely not his field of expertise.

You need help here? An authority-laden voice spoke from the door of the truck.

Inside, and we need an ambulance, Abe called.

A bicycle cop entered, blue shorts displaying beefy thighs, his bright yellow vest brushing the edge of the counter. He took one look and reached for his police radio. Injured assailant, German cart in the park.

Austrian, the girl said.

Abe turned his gaze toward her. You’re going to argue nationalities right now?

She glared at him. Austrian, not German. Big difference.

Soon, the scene was bustling with a multitude of uniforms – police detectives, patrol units, county sheriffs, even a security guard from a nearby restaurant. The food truck became a really tight, small space. Shoved aside, Abe fell back against the girl, her rich curves pressing into his back.

I know you like me, she said, her breath warm on his neck. But this isn’t the way to go about it.

He glanced behind. A spark danced in her eyes. Turning around slowly, he faced her, laying one palm on the counter. Is this better?

She curved her lips into a teasing smile. Much. But I’m not hungry right now.

Abe Beckett. What are you doing here?

Twisting his neck left, Abe caught eyes with dumpy, forty-four year old detective, Kenneth Bell. One hand on his side, his fingers resting atop his badge, Kenneth roamed his gaze over the chaotic scene.

I was buying lunch originally.

With a revolver?

Abe looked down at the pair of guns still clenched in his hand. He snorted and returned his to his waistband. Pays to be protected, you know. He extended the other, and Kenneth took it from him on the end of a pencil. Twenty-two, he said. Less ‘bang bang’ and more ‘pop pop’.

If we can have space to work, a paramedic said.

This evicted them all. Abe stepped out and stood aside while they loaded the thief on a gurney. The girl waited nearby.

Kenneth gestured toward her. So you’re buying lunch and you noticed the help?

Abe looked her direction. Actually, I was arguing with her, and she disappeared. I went around to see why and stumbled into the robbery in progress.

Listen, when am I going to get my truck back? The girl said, breaking into their conversation.

Kenneth’s gaze shifted. I’m afraid it’ll be a while, Miss. That’s a crime scene now.

Her lips formed a seductive pout. "Great. How am I supposed to make money? Are you going to pay my bills? Because I know he’s not going to do it." She nodded her head his direction.

What’s your issue? Abe snapped. You’ve been after me ever since I first ordered.

After you? I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole ... Mr. Hero.

Are we back to that? So childish.

Kenneth’s chuckle in his ear made Abe pause. What? he asked.

I think you two need to kiss and make up. There’s enough sparks here to start a forest fire.

Kiss? Him? You have got to be kidding, the girl continued. Big hunk of worthless ...

Abe whirled, and taking hold of her cheeks, planted one on her, mashing his lips hard against hers. She tasted great. She felt even better. However, she apparently wasn’t interested. Back-pedaling, arms flailing, she dug her toes into the concrete. Kenneth’s laughter perfectly framed the scene.

Releasing her cheeks, Abe left his hands aloft.

The girl laid her fingers over her mouth. What was that for?

Seemed like he was right, and I wanted to know, he replied.

Abe!

Abe turned his head to yet another familiar police face.

Does everyone know you? the girl asked.

He smiled at her. Probably. My dad’s their boss.

So you’re a cop?

Kenneth began laughing again, and the newcomer joined in.

What? Why’s that funny? the girl asked. He had a gun ...

Kenneth clapped one hand on Abe’s shoulder. Abe, here, is a midwife.

Her eyes widened and her lips parted and, suddenly, he wanted to kiss her again. He pulled himself back.

A midwife? As in ...

Babies, Abe finished. I deliver babies. He crossed his arms over his chest. What’s wrong? That not manly enough for you?

She clamped her mouth shut, her nostrils flared. No, that’s ... unexpected.

He closed the distance between them. Abe Beckett, he said, by way of introduction. Midwife services. And you are?

Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, the mounds of her breasts all but bursting from the neckline of her blouse. Vienna Stumpf.

Vienna?

Her smile returned, the same I’ve-got-your-number expression she’d held through much of their repartee.

Vienna, she repeated. As in sausage.

And his strange morning was complete. Kenneth burst into laughter, and Abe could only stand there and stare.

Vienna pulled herself out of the driver’s seat, her left hand mashed to her stomach to settle it. How exactly did she tell her father the food truck was in police custody? Oh, yeah, we were robbed, but I stopped him with a knife.

He wouldn’t care. He’d explode. He lived to explode. As much as she loved him, he was excitable and fond of drama. Her mom blamed that on his Austrian heritage, but to her mind, that was simply an excuse. Everyone could control themselves and approach things peacefully.

Then again, she’d stabbed a guy—

She drew in a breath. Not like she’d had a choice. It was either that or be shot because no way was she giving up their earnings. That midwife had thought she should.

Midwife? She snorted. A midwife with a gun. What’d he need that for anyway, in case the baby came out carrying a pistol? She held in a giggle with the back of her hand. Her laughter became a groan. Lowering her hand to her throat, she counted her pulse.

Best get this over with.

Dragging her feet across the weed-sprinkled lawn, Vienna knocked, the sound unearthly beneath the porch overhang. An extraordinary quiet followed. Then, the door gave a gasp and her mother’s face appeared in the opening. Vienna? We weren’t expecting you.

Vienna ran her fingers down her costume skirt, drying a damp palm. No. Can I come in?

Of course.

Her mother backed a few steps, allowing her entry, and Vienna passed her into the small, square foyer. The scent of cinnamon apples filtered through the air.

Strudel? she asked.

Her mother smiled. Your father insisted, though I told him he doesn’t need it. His doctor warns him, but he persists.

Stubborn was another good word to describe her dad, stubborn as a polka dancer at a rock concert. He could dig in his heels on subjects better than anyone she knew, and not always because he was right.

Papa. Vienna leaned over him, kissing his bristly cheek.

Daughter. He spoke brusque.

Perching herself on the edge of the couch, she smoothed her skirt. Papa, there was an incident.

His usual stiffness became even more so. An incident?

She swallowed past the lump clogging her throat. Someone tried ... tried to rob the truck.

Rob the truck? Her father shot to his feet, his face reddening.

Please, Papa, sit. He failed. I ... I stopped him. She bade him to obey, rising and mashing on his shoulder. However, he resisted, mumbling beneath his breath in his native German.

Her mother reentered the room. Gently grasping his arm, she pressed him back in his chair. Your blood pressure, Helmet. The doctor said ...

The doctor didn’t have his livelihood snatched from him!

Not snatched, Vienna repeated. I stopped him ... with ... with a knife.

Her mother’s gasp filled the room. Vienna ... you stabbed him?

Exasperated, Vienna sighed. He had a gun. A man who was there argued with him, and I took the opportunity ...

You’re okay? Unsatisfied with a distant look at her or the obvious knowledge she’d driven here and walked in the door, her mother drew her to her feet and spun her around.

I’m fine, Mama, Vienna fussed. The only one injured is the thief. No money was taken. She met her father’s gaze with that remark. He worked his jaw, the muscles flexing and releasing.

But ... she continued, the truth digging at her.

Lying had never been her best thing. Between her guilty expression and tripping over her words, she usually failed.

Her mom sank down on the couch, one hand curved over the padded arm. But?

The police ... h-have the truck ...

Her father rose again. This time, she intercepted him. No, Papa. It’s only for a couple days. I told them we needed it to make money, but they said there was processing to do and they’d notify me when we could have it back.

Not good enough. His thick mustache quivered with the wind of his breath.

It has to be ‘good enough.’ We have no choice, and ...

"You will talk to them. Tell them this day they must return it. He shoved against her hands. Our valuables are there."

Vienna started. Valuables? What are you talking about?

Her mother responded. Your grandmother’s jewelry.

Vienna’s eyes widened. You left Grossmutter’s jewelry on the food truck? Why? I drive it every day and anything could happen. The words left her mouth and smacked her in the face. Anything had, and now the truck was gone.

Her father sank down into his chair, crestfallen.

Vienna stared at the top of his grizzled head. Was he actually embarrassed? He was. Feet shuffling, her father refused to look up.

Her mother spoke. It was a while back. We didn’t want to startle you. It was only supposed to be temporary. There was a robbery. The neighbor had his house broken into, and your father became afraid.

Afraid? Vienna flipped her gaze from one parent to the other. That’s no reason to hide them in the truck. Thieves can take a truck, but not break into a house. In either case, they should be put in a bank.

Her father’s head rose. He hated banks. The words were written across his brow in bold. Because of that, he’d done something foolish.

You and your fears, she said. "Which is worse, the bank holding them or the