Excerpt – Primal Suspect by Rochelle Sangabriel
Synopsis
FBI Special Agent Renee Wells has built her life on rules, discipline, and a relentless pursuit of justice—but after losing her partner, her career is in a tailspin, and she’s forced to confront a past she thought she’d left behind.
Returning to her hometown of Boerne, Texas, Renee finds herself drawn into a cold case that has haunted the community for years. The investigation will test her skills, her instincts, and her courage, forcing her to navigate secrets, suspicion, and the painful, hidden memories lurking deep within her heart.
As Renee balances professional fallout with personal responsibilities, she encounters allies, enemies, and stirring connections that challenge her guarded heart. Every choice she makes carries weight—not just for the case, but for the life she wants to reclaim for herself and the people she loves.
Primal Suspect is a gripping romantic suspense novel, weaving intrigue, emotional depth, and a resilient heroine’s journey into a story about truth, trust, and finding the courage to embrace both career and heart.
Amazon * Atmosphere
Excerpt
As the patio door closes between them and the men, she whirls to face him. “What the hell?” She flings her arms out wide. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean what am I doing here? I’m here to save your ass from those dickheads in there.” He throws a hand out toward the bar, but when he drops it, when his gaze finds hers again, he takes a small step back. Her eyes are clear and focused on his face. The small portion of his brain that’s still functioning properly frantically pieces together the available information. Renee is not swaying, not slurring or glassy-eyed, not even a little bit. “Wait a minute.” He narrows his eyes at her. “You’re not drunk.”
Her voice is steady now, irritated but level and controlled. “No. I’m not drunk. Have you ever seen me drink?” she asks.
Damn, she’s a good actress.
“I’m trying desperately to come up with a suspect, other than you, and you come in here and ruin it just as I was getting these guys to talk to me. Geez! I’ve never tried so hard to help someone just to have them successfully and repeatedly undermine my attempts. I’m in there,” she says as she throws an arm out in the direction of the bar, “flirting for your ass. I don’t do flirting.”
“I thought you were drunk and overwhelmed by those douchebags in there—”
She squints at him, as if trying to figure something out. “Are you trying to undermine my progress?”
“No. When Jess called— I thought— I didn’t know—”
“How about next time you wait until you do know before you come charging in here, acting like a jealous boyfriend and blowing my chances at getting any valuable information out of these guys.”
He pulls off his cap and runs a hand through his hair before replacing it. Then lets out a frustrated sigh, pacing away from her and back again.
She crosses her arms over her chest and taps the toe of one of those heels in frustration, then drops her arms and starts again. “I’m working—”
“In that get-up?” he nearly shouts. It’s not acceptable, the lengths she’s going to in order to help him. And he’s trying hard not to eyeball her like some creep. She’s not drunk; she’s sober, in control, but so fucking hot in this dress that hugs every sensational curve. He’s trying hard to respect her wishes, but if he can barely keep his hands off her, what can they expect of the thugs and lowlifes who hang out at this bar?
She narrows her eyes at him, then continues, ignoring his question, “I’m trying really hard not to be a bitch about this. I know this is the way in a small town, people look out for one another, right?” She gestures toward the door they came out of. “Jess thought I was in trouble with all those guys in there. He was trying to help. But this—” She points to him and back to herself several times. “You showing up and butting your way in and pulling me away for a private little convo on the back patio, this looks bad to anyone who’s watching.”
Okay, he screwed up, and she’s pissed.
“You look—” He shakes his head at her. “Amazing.”
“Nuh-uh. Shut that down right now. I had them talking to me in there. I was making some actual progress. Which is more than I can say for most aspects of this investigation. Your little girlfriend?” She takes a step forward, challenging him to argue. “Meredith? She’s been a phantom ever since barging into your office that first day. Your assistant, Lalo, won’t talk to me. And our drop-dead date is looming.”
“Excuse me? Our what?”
“The date I promised to be back at work. In Dallas. Over three hundred miles from here.”
He blinks. Of course. She’s leaving. He knew that. She’s got responsibilities back home.
“I’ve got a job to get back to,” she says gently. “I’m not here indefinitely.”
“Right. Of course.”
She’s seen his underbelly, knows how much he needs her. David steps closer, wishing he could shake off her concern. “Did you drive here?”
About the Author
Rochelle Sangabriel is a book coach and writer. She spends most of her time writing, critiquing her clients’ work, or in pursuit of coffee and chocolate. She lives in Dallas, TX with her husband and four children. Romantic suspense is her favorite genre but she also reads plenty of fantasy, contemporary, military and historical romance.
