by D. R. Grady
Another milestone for Chad. He had made impressive strides in the past few weeks. Grandy had taken strides back while Chad made progress.
Harlow resolved all over again to do everything she had to do to protect these two men she loved more than anyone or anything else. Neither could handle these stresses but she could.
And I will.
Without complaint, without worrying either man, but she wouldn’t lie or whitewash the situation any more than necessary. A tough path.
Again, she could do this. It might not be easy, but she would. Only it would be nice to have someone else to at least sound off to when the pressure crept up.
The memory of a massive man who dodged bullets with impressive skill and a lack of drama rose in her mind. Only, if he knew who she was, he’d despise her…
Harlow stifled a sigh. “I triggered a trap and now someone knows I’ve at least looked into the suspicious deaths of a few of our employees.”
“Yes.” Chad gazed at her with the Horgate intensity, although it was severely muted in him. “This is why you need to leave the computer stuff to me.”
“I didn’t want to bother you with it until I was certain there was something to look into.” She held her hands up in an exaggerated way. This helped him to better understand the emotion she was trying to convey.
“I don’t mind being bothered.” He continued to gaze at her. “And I don’t mind looking into this type of stuff. You have enough going on.”
“You’ve heard about Grandy.” She didn’t ask, just the way he said this indicated he knew enough.
“He called me Chugger.”
Harlow closed her eyes. She hadn’t heard that name, used for Chad when he was a toddler, since he was a toddler.
“Oh no.” Chad stood over six feet tall and usually forgot to shave so he typically had some level of five o’clock shadow going on. He had left the toddler stage behind twenty-six years ago.
“Something is wrong, Harlow.” Chad’s frown might not be noticed by others, but she’d grown up with him.
She cocked her head. “What are you thinking?”
“Should we send him to the Rembrandts for a couple of weeks?”
Her eyes widened. “Are you thinking—” Of course he was thinking someone might be trying to poison him. Grandy might have triggered the same traps. But rather than shoot him, why not poison him? Or at least make him look like he had some form of dementia.
“We need to get him off the island, Harlow.” Chad sounded convinced.
“I like how you think.” And she started making plans. “I can have him off the island by this evening.”
“Do we trust his housekeeper?”
“I don’t think we can at this point.” She wished she could trust someone other than her cerebral-encompassing brother. Again, she stifled those thoughts before they came to fruition.
Sometimes a woman had to fight by herself. She had to knuckle down and take care of business.
In this case, if Harlow didn’t, more deaths would accumulate and she’d endure the faces of those she hadn’t saved in her nightmares. Adding Grandy and Chad to that number was not an option. People in the house next door had lost loved ones and still mourned them to this day.
Harlow’s jaw hardened. Not on my watch.
§
Two days later, Keith couldn’t put off another run. He’d been leaning toward weight lifting, but figured he’d better work on cardio too. His brother Eric spotted him. “Going for a run?”
“Yes. You coming?”
Eric nodded. “I need to.” He was dressed for a run on the beach, so Keith didn’t need to wait for him.
“Let’s go.” They set off at an easy pace and soon increased as they caught their stride. Growing up on Toliliel, they’d been running on the beaches here all their lives.
Brotherly competition helped push his limits. Little brother could keep up with the youngins and Keith refused to be accused of being a quitter. Or old. Besides, it didn’t hurt him and he had done a double run on Monday. He did admit to being glad when they turned around to head back to the house. On the way back, they spotted another figure on the beach.
Also running. He recognized the steady footfalls. And thought he also knew exactly who ran toward them.
“Wow, who is that?” Eric’s male reaction to a woman shouldn’t raise his hackles. At least not this much.
“I’m guessing that’s our neighbor, Harlow Maxwell, who doesn’t exist.”
His brother’s eyebrows rose. “She’s that good?”
“Or someone she knows is. Verity and Hunter can’t find anything about her. Not even a photo online.”
Eric’s lips pursed. “That’s impressive.” His eyes tightened at the corners. “What’s she hiding?”
“Haven’t deduced that yet.” By then she came abreast of them.
Politeness and civility made her stop. “Keith.” His name on her lips made parts of him that had been asleep awaken.
“Harlow. This is my brother Eric. Eric, Harlow is living in the Horgate house next door.” He introduced them, but watched his brother. Whose skills he respected.
In a similar manner to Trace Montgomery, Eric appeared satisfied or something at the introduction to Harlow. He didn’t seem to recognize her. “It’s nice to meet the neighbors.”
Faint amusement lightened her expression. The mysterious woman still gave nothing away. “Eric.” She nodded to him, her gaze assessing. “You look like Savannah.” Then she glanced at Keith.
“They were adopted.” He explained, but Eric and Savannah were still his family and he’d take several bullets for them. Not that Eric would allow that. Stubborn man.
“You noticed I don’t resemble a gorilla.” Eric’s slight flirting raised his hackles again. Keith cautioned himself. He sought information only.
Harlow’s expression opened ever so slightly. “Gorillas are amazing creatures.”
Eric’s eyebrow rose. “You’ve met some?”
“I have. And I left impressed with them.” She glanced in his direction. “Although I’m not seeing much resemblance to them and your brother.” More amusement emanated from her.
“See?” Keith left the gloating in his tone. “Only you think I resemble a gorilla.”
“He is one of the largest men I’ve ever met.” Harlow smiled. The action entranced him. It took effort to shake off the effects.
Fortunately, Eric had no trouble stepping in. “I enjoy harassing big brother here. It’s been a favorite past time since childhood.”
“You didn’t get much of a rise out of him.”
“I never do.” Eric shook his head as though saddened by this.
Keith smirked. “It’s more fun to watch you grind your teeth.” They’d gotten further with her by harassing each other than questioning her. She still hadn’t relaxed her guard though. He’d be surprised if she did.
She glanced at the fitness tracker on her wrist. “I have another three miles to go.” Her smile for them was impersonal and she set off again. Her pace easy but it ate the steps.
He took a moment to admire her.
“That’s some figure.” Eric’s tone was musing.
No one could dispute that. Her body might as well have been ripped out of a comic book or game. Or right out of men’s fantasies of what a woman’s body should be.
Harlow didn’t dress to show off her shape though. At least her running gear wasn’t super tight or fitted. It looked loose and easy, but wouldn’t snag. Yet her lovely figure couldn’t be hidden.
“She’s attractive.” Those green eyes had haunted him the last couple of days. He did not mention this.
The sunlight revealed streaks of red and gold in her brown hair.
Keith couldn’t remember ever noticing anything so specific about a woman before.
“She’s the key.”
It took a moment before Eric’s comment penetrated. “Say what?”
“I suspect she’s the key to us getting to the heart of
whatever’s going on.” Satisfaction didn’t ooze from Eric, but he seemed pleased with the situation.
“Trace said something similar on Monday.”
“He’s right. Whoever she is, I suspect she’s on our side.”
“Indications aren’t showing that.” He wanted to believe. If she was on their side then he could… Keith shut down that train of thought.
“Indications lie.”
His little brother was a good judge of character. He was rarely wrong. Of course, when he was, it usually turned disastrous. Yet Keith didn’t shut him down. He wanted to believe Harlow was on their side. He glanced in the direction she had run.
“I noticed the vast amount of electronics in that clearing where the shooter blasted you and her.” Eric checked out the horizon with him. “None of those components are ours.”
“She got to it before we did.” He’d been impressed with her measures and the quality of the components.
“Ms Maxwell doesn’t mess around.”
“No.” He appreciated that. “She didn’t stop at that clearing, either.”
“I noticed that. This isn’t her first mission or whatever she’s considering it.”
He concurred. “I’d like to know who she really is and what she wants.”
“I think it’s clear what she wants.” Eric didn’t raise his voice.
“What’s that?”
“She intends to clear Horgate of any wrongdoing.”
Chapter 5
The sense of uneasiness followed her to bed. Harlow kept checking all of her cameras and sensors, on repeat. All of the sensors were working, all the cameras showed full function capabilities. She had no cause for the premonition of impending doom. Yet small doses of stress chemicals pulsed through her body and the hair on her nape and arms trembled.
As a precaution, she checked all the windows and doors again before she finally went to bed. Yet the dreams that took her into sleep left her restless and she made a mess of the bedding. When she awoke for the fifth time in three hours, Harlow tumbled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. A drink of water and another security check on the house might help.
Maybe a snack. Her tumbling stomach made her rethink that notion.
She opened the door from her bedroom and took a step into the hall. All of her senses hit high alert and she hesitated to take the next step. A faint tremble in the floor might have been tossed off as nothing but when combined with the squawking doom... A muted blast downstairs and another floor tremble fueled her blood with far too much adrenaline. She dove for her bag. Shoved her computer, phone, and the charging cords inside and anything else she could grab that she didn’t want to burn. Because it was obvious this place was about to go up in flames.
Her mouth hardened. A roar outside her door told her she’d run out of time. She headed into the bathroom with her bag and turned on the shower and the faucets, then tucked a wet towel around the bottom of the door to the bedroom. This should give her enough time to break the window above the toilet. Roaring blasted into her bedroom. Despite her measures, smoke crept into the bathroom.
Coughing, Harlow slammed the window. It shattered, but held. Her teeth gritted. Get out. Get out. Get out. She pried the entire window frame until it shimmied loose.
“Harlow!” She recognized Keith’s voice.
She waved her arm. “I’m here.” She didn’t know if he heard her over the fury of the fire. He came.
Smoke grabbed her in a choke hold as she struggled to see and breathe. Her heart thumped as her lungs struggled. The heat from the fire blasted through the room. It brought another wave of smoke.
Adrenaline pummeled her. She strapped the bag to her back and then eased through the window opening, clenching her fingers around the toasted window base and stretched her body toward the ground. Warm, strong hands wrapped around her ankles.
“Drop. I’ll catch you.”
The smokey haze continued to asphyxiate her and made it evident that pretty soon the heat would make her lose her precarious grip. Harlow could either trust the man beneath her or die from the heat of the flames and all the smoke she’d inhaled. The window frame now burned under her fingers.
She let go.
And hard hands clamped around her waist to rip her away from the house. He sprinted in the direction of the Rembrandt house.
Harlow opened her mouth to tell him to stop, but a series of explosions deafened them. Keith hunkered over her, curving his larger body around hers, but the propulsion of the bombs sent them airborne.
They both twisted so he didn’t land on her. Instinct making them move together. The abrupt landing still whooshed all the air out of her. It took several heart stopping moments before she sucked in enough clean air to appease her already beleaguered lungs.
Keith turned her over and dragged her to her knees. This eased the strain on her overtaxed organs. But it triggered a series of deep hacking coughs as her lungs labored to release the smoke.
By then the shriek of sirens added to the chaos as the macabre light of the fire and bombs lit the darkness in a nightmare of images. The heat reached them, as did billows of additional smoke. They hunkered closer to the ground to avoid it and she coughed in a series of spasms.
An ambulance pulled up behind the fire trucks. She was on her feet and raced across the expanse to the fire truck before she was even aware of her actions. “Bombs. Someone set bombs off.” She didn’t need to wheeze more. The fireman driving the first truck reversed quickly, as did the others and the ambulance.
They caught onto the need to treat the situation as very dangerous. Who knew how many bombs hadn’t detonated?
She wheezed and this spasm initiated another coughing spree. A paramedic grabbed her arm to pull her toward the truck. He quickly hooked her up to oxygen and she accepted because it would help clear the rest of the smoke out of her lungs. It would clear out on its own but this should help her recover that much faster.
Since someone had tried really hard to kill her, recovering as fast as possible seemed sensible.
Keith hovered over her. He refused oxygen as he watched everyone and everything with suspicion.
The fire chief approached them. While she was still trying to sort out the events of the night herself, she didn’t mind answering his questions. The most pressing issue being the bombs. While she talked, a couple more exploded. His eyebrows kept raising and Keith muttered something and moved closer to her.
“How did they get inside your house to plant the bombs?” The chief asked.
She and Keith peered at him. “They wouldn’t have needed to plant them inside.” She didn’t say more. No sense in making herself look like a suspect. Someone wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and she was thankful because the adrenaline trickled now and shock made her jittery and chilled.
“Plenty of bombs are quite effective if planted on the outer walls.” Keith offered more detail. He added that he’d been uneasy tonight and that’s why he’d been outside. It didn’t take observational skills to see that the two men knew each other and she guessed the chief was aware of his military background.
The fireman seemed to digest this information as he wrote a lot of notes.
She sucked in oxygen and willed away the jitters and chill.
Eventually he was satisfied with their answers and drifted away.
“How did you know?” She peeked up at Keith.
“Couldn’t sleep.”
Her nod must have made sense to him. “Neither could I. Went for a glass of water.” No need to go into further detail.
“Someone tried to kill you tonight.”
“So it was me they were aiming at on the beach on Monday.”
“Might be they tried for both of us. We’ve been digging into this stuff too and Savannah is my little sister now.” He didn’t have to expound on that. The implication that he’d move islands to protect his sister and brother infused every line of his body and every word.
She wanted that.
; Not from her brother, who would do the same, but from this man.
She shivered again. Keith tucked the blanket tighter around her.
Harlow opened her mouth to say something she should have filtered but was saved by the arrival of the posse. His, at least. These people didn’t trust her and maybe they shouldn’t.
She needed to make plans for the rest of the evening but her mind kept blanking on her.
§
Verity and Hunter converged on them, followed by Eric and DuBois. Keith guessed Molly and Savannah were currently surrounded by all available bodyguards and Trace. They’d sent the four who had likely crawled all over the place previously and knew it so they might pick up clues, even in the dark.
They all inspected Harlow with grim mouths. While they weren’t convinced she was on their side, this new evidence indicated otherwise. People didn’t normally try to kill someone who was on their side. Unless that person became expendable. He doubted that but kept open to all possibilities.
Tonight someone had clearly attempted to murder Harlow.
Her skills, instincts, and intellect had saved her. His heart hadn’t stopped its fancy drum-work.
“Do you have family on the island?”
She nodded. “My brother. But he’s in a condo. We sent my grandfather to the Rembrandts in New York City.”
Eyebrows lifted. “For what reason?”
“He started to show sudden signs of dementia. We feared someone might be trying to poison him.” She swallowed. But her jaw hardened and her fingers curled into fists.
She might be hooked to oxygen with ash in her hair and streaked across her face, but this woman would always come out swinging. And Keith bet her punches connected and hurt.
“Any idea of who wants you dead?” Hunter went right in.
“The list is long.” She didn’t prevaricate.
Knowing nods from their small party made him feel like he belonged. He appreciated that. These were his people.
“Not the first time?” Verity’s eyebrow rose.