“I’m here, Harper.” He might not know how to take care of her, but he’d damn well try. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll get it.”
She finally looked at him. “You’re a good man, Lucas.”
She said it on a sigh, as if she too were confused by what had happened in the shower. If he were honest with himself, the shower wasn’t the start of Harper’s mixed signals today. It was the culmination. When he’d picked her up this morning, they were moving toward détente, on best behavior, such as it was. Now, he’d yet to unpack all the many ways her words didn’t match her behavior.
He decided to blame today’s meeting. Fucking Folsom. Whatever he touched went to shit. It burned Lucas’s ass that if either the lieutenant or Harper had listened to his concerns, none of this would have happened. No meeting. Folsom would still be alive. They’d still have a lead to a list. He and Harper wouldn’t be in this weird flux, needing each other, but needing to be as far away from the other as possible.
His case was stalled. Harper was walking wounded. And his gut told him today’s events wouldn’t end with Joe’s murder. They’d come gunning for Harper, if only to find out why Folsom asked to talk with her. Rumors were rife in the precinct, and it wouldn’t take long for them to spread to the street…to people who would see the value of killing her “just in case” rather than allow a potential list to reach the authorities. They were screwed.
Harper rolled over in bed, eyes wide, so green they held his focus. He wished he had the right to help her through her anguish, to protect her until this danger was over. Once they connected with Dane, Lucas would be a fifth wheel with no legitimate reason to be in her life. She’d kept him at arm’s length for the last year, though he’d only lived a few miles from her. He had no doubt she’d do it again.
“I’m sorry.” And he was. Sorry his damage caused her so much pain.
He leaned in, kissing her, putting the barest of pressure on her lips. It was a good-bye kiss, filled with all the longing, regret, and hope he’d been helpless to rid himself of this last year. He expected nothing in return. When she kissed him back, he forgot to be surprised. When she pushed him onto his back, rolled on top of him, and ripped the blankets and towel off her naked body, surprise was part of what he felt. When she kissed him again, he was too aroused to do more than respond in kind. He tasted her neck, buried his fingers in her curly hair and slid his tongue into her mouth with a moan he hadn’t seen coming.
Harper dragged her palms down his sides, and then up his belly and chest. Curving her body around his, tasting him, devouring the wet heat of his mouth. Her breasts skimmed his chest as her hair tantalized him, then Lucas rolled her onto her back without a second thought, positioning himself between her thighs. Then he froze. Because he wasn’t an asshole.
Harper pulled at him, silently demanding he kiss her again, but Lucas knew this was wrong. She was upset. She wasn’t in her right mind. The Harper of this last year couldn’t hold his gaze for more than a moment. This Harper needed something from him, but it wasn’t sex.
“Harper.” He barely recognized his voice.
Her breathing was rough and labored. He saw the panic and pain in her wide-eyed gaze. He reminded himself it was Harper who had left him last year. She didn’t want this. He rolled off her, as his gun on the side table caught his eye. Then all he wanted to do was kick himself. Shit. They were still in danger and here he was, letting his dick rule his head.
“We have unfinished business,” he said. “And this isn’t it.”
Like a shot, Harper rolled off the bed, grabbing a black T-shirt and a pair of men’s boxers she found on the upholstered chair next to the bed. He knew she slept in those. Her runner’s body was lean and muscular, but Harper wasn’t afraid of a good cheeseburger, either, so she had curves, too. Damn, he loved her body, and not making love to her a moment ago was one of the most difficult things he’d ever…not done. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops, completing the look of a college student. Another reminder. Harper was young. Twenty-four. Too young to be dealing with the shit she’d been asked to—murder, intrigue, dirty cops, and now…an ex.
“Ask your questions.” Hands on her hips, she turned toward him, her red curls in disarray and her cheeks flushed with what looked to be embarrassment. Lucas would have changed places with her in a heartbeat. What he was feeling required an hour in a cold shower.
“Folsom said something to you,” he said. “What was it?”
“I told you. It was too garbled. I don’t know.”
As she stood there, fire in her eyes, it was like peering into his past. Her, at the Dublin House in Dorchester, wearing her Boston College T-shirt and drinking a pint of Guinness. He’d been impressed by her palate and watched from across the room as the bartender poured the draft into a pint while Harper stared at it like a child would candy. They were a thing immediately, and got hot and heavy soon thereafter.
“You remember nothing?” He found that hard to believe.
Harper flopped on the chair, glaring at the floor, pensive. “Do you remember the day I left Boston?”
When she left him? Explaining she wanted marriage and kids, and staying with him wasn’t fair to either of them? When she packed all her stuff into her blue Hyundai and kissed him good-bye?
“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks for the pot roast.” He’d lived off it for a week and hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since. Hadn’t had a lot of things since.
Harper frowned and then dismissed his words. “When I left, I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to stay left. Not a day went by when I didn’t decide to move back to Boston to be with you. I’d practice my speech, explaining why it was okay for you to want what you wanted, and me to want what I wanted, but by the time I’d memorize it all, I’d convinced myself all over again that leaving you was for the best. It was a thing I did…too many times.” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to think leaving was an easy decision for me. It wasn’t, Lucas.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I stopped doing that when Alice and Elizabeth were kidnapped. Joe was the one who broke the news to me. Dane was out of his mind, canvassing the streets, working his leads. Joe was the one behind the scenes, coordinating everything, keeping the process working smoothly. Doing what he could to facilitate the investigation.”
“Keeping track of where the case was, what leads were uncovered, hiding his involvement.”
“Yeah.” She shook off whatever frustration and anger his reminder unearthed. “Our breakup was the hardest thing I ever lived through, until Joe happened. Now I know how bad it can get, so believe me, I’m not trying to be difficult. I don’t know why he asked to see me if he didn’t want to give up the list. None of this makes sense. I approached today as serious as a heart attack, but I’m sorry. I got nothing.”
He believed her….and weak as he was, he couldn’t stop himself for greedily asking for more truth. “Why wouldn’t you see me when it happened? I wanted to help you. You had to know I would have supported you through that. We weren’t together anymore, but we were still friends, right?”
“I not only knew you’d stand by me, Lucas, I was afraid of it.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“You would have stood by me. For how long? How long has it been since Alice was murdered?”
“A year and then some. That wouldn’t have stopped me.”
“I know. I do.” She nudged a curl off her cheek. “I also know Joe killed everything he touched; people, careers, relationships. Believe me, leaving you worked out for the best.”
“That doesn’t tell me why you did it.”
Harper gave him side eye. “You know exactly why I did it.” Because she didn’t want him unless it was on her terms. Yeah. He couldn’t complain, because he had his own set of terms. That was their problem. “I kept myself busy at first. Work, finishing my degree online. Then everything happened, and it was all about moving into my brother’s house to take care of my niece
.”
“Elizabeth.”
“Yes.” Her expression softened. “I would never wish this year on anyone, but it did bring me closer to Elizabeth, allowed me to be for her what Dane was for me when my parents died. Did you know I was ten when it happened? Almost the same age as Elizabeth. It gave me insight, and I like to think helped to bring her back…you know, from the fugue state she was in.” Elizabeth had been rendered mute by her kidnapping and her mother’s murder and was only recently speaking again. “I was trying to do the right thing. Still am.” She leaned from her perch on the chair, grabbed a pillow off the bed and held it to her belly, squeezing. Her wet curls were drying and springing up, draping over her shoulders. “When Alice and Elizabeth were kidnapped, I had no idea what to expect when I went to Dane’s house, but the world dropped out from under my feet. I was more scared than I’d ever been in my life, and when I saw Dane, in anguish, I felt helpless. It changed me. I’m afraid all the time. Not really for me, but for my family. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.” She met his gaze. “Last night, when you called and asked me not to speak with Joe, I couldn’t do it. Even the chance that he had that list meant I had to meet with him, because…honestly, Lucas…if I started allowing my fear to make decisions for me, I’d never leave this room.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, across from her. “I was trying to stop something like this from happening.” She should have heeded his warning, trusted that he was looking out for her best interest.
“Dane and Marnie are making a life together, and they’ve found a way to be happy. Elizabeth is talking again. The only thing left that could hurt us are the dirty cops. Dane will never stop until he’s caught them. Joe’s list will end this.”
Frustration had him on his feet, raking his hair off his face. “Harper. We don’t have the list, and for all we know it never existed. And we’ll never know because the bastard died on us!”
“You think I don’t know that?” She threw the pillow back onto the bed.
He towered over her, watching her closely. “Our only lead is garbled words you don’t remember.”
Harper shot off the chair and began pacing the room. “Do you know what I do remember? That Joe murdered Alice. Used me to—” She clamped her mouth shut and gave herself a shake. “I hate him.”
“Used you to what?”
Harper took a moment to compose herself before facing him square on. “To hurt Dane.”
Harper was back to hating Joe again, and Lucas saw that as a good sign. It would be easier for her to move on if she forgot the friend and remembered Folsom as who he really was, their enemy. The MacLains seemed able to balance the good and bad in Folsom, while Lucas just saw an evil fuck. He didn’t approve of their brand of empathy, but Lucas wasn’t in their shoes, and who was he to tell anyone how to process what happened? When the full extent of Folsom’s sins were plumbed by the DA’s office, it might give the MacLains some perspective, maybe closure. He hoped so, because the real Joseph Folsom didn’t deserve their pity.
“Do yourself a favor,” Lucas said. “Don’t remember. Forget him. Folsom doesn’t deserve one more moment of your life.” He tapped his watch. “Time’s up. We’ve got to go.”
The loud knock on the front door surprised both of them. It became a pounding.
“Dane.” Harper met his gaze, saw her surprise and worry as she shot past Lucas.
“No, dammit!” She wasn’t wearing pants. “Harper, no!” Grabbing his gun, he scrambling after her. “Harper, don’t you dare answer that door! It might not be Dane!”
Chapter Four
Harper’s mind’s eye filled with the image of her brother as she’d left him in the precinct hall; grief stricken, bloody, mourning a man he’d thought he knew. She rushed down the stairs, worry her focus, and Dane her priority.
“Harper!” She squealed, startled to find Lucas chasing her. “Stop! Let me check the door first.” He glared. “You’re not wearing pants, for shit’s sake!” And neither was he, though he held a gun. Proof he had his priorities straight. Harper backtracked, feeling sheepish. “Hide in your room until I tell you to come down.” He aimed his gun at the door, approaching it.
“Right. Sorry,” she said, afraid…yet not dead. That’s what she’d have to be not to notice how damn sexy he was rushing the door, holding his gun so competently. She hurried toward the stairs with that image now in her mind’s eye.
The front door smashed inward, bouncing off the wall. Four Manchester police officers hustled inside, one after the other, backlit by the porch light, guns drawn.
Harper screamed.
“Whoa! Whoa!” Lucas lifted his hands in the air, taking his finger off the trigger. “I’m a cop. I’m a cop!”
“Shit!” Harper pressed her palms to her chest, scanning the cops’ faces, not recognizing one.
“Drop the gun!” One of the cops shouted, motioning for the other cops to fan out and secure the room.
Lucas flipped his gun so now he held it by its grip. With his other hand raised, he laid the gun on the floor, projecting compliance. Then he kicked the gun to the side and walked backward. A glance located her, then with little fuss, he positioned himself so she was at his back. Harper pressed her palms to his skin and felt a sheen of perspiration, the only indication Lucas was nervous.
“I’m Detective Lucas Sullivan, homicide, Manchester Police Department. My badge is upstairs in one of the bedrooms. Have one of your men get it, please, so we can all calm down.”
Harper could tell the officers didn’t like how close she was standing to Lucas, or at least that’s how it appeared to her, but she had no intention of moving from his side. They were scaring the crap out of her.
The ranking officer stepped forward. “We knocked, ma’am. When we received no response, but heard your shout, we feared foul play. One of my men looked in the window,”—he pointed to the slim foyer panes of glass that framed the door—“he saw this man holding you at gunpoint.” He motioned Harper forward, silently asking her to step away from Lucas.
Harper was acutely aware of the brevity of her boxers, and the amount of leg she was showing, so she kept mostly behind Lucas, allowing his body to shield her as she responded. “He wasn’t pointing the gun at me and he told you who he was; a detective. He’s been here for at least a year. Call the precinct, or get his badge upstairs if you don’t believe us.” Their behavior was not only confusing, it was offensive. For heaven’s sake, she was barely dressed, didn’t know them from Adam, and she was supposed to trust them? “He’s not the one that busted into my house. Who are you?” Her words were greeted with disregard. “Shit.” Being from a family of cops, she knew cops, and these men did not give off a cop vibe. Far from it. They held their guns wrong. Their stances shouted back alley, not shooting range, and now that she noticed, their badges were on the wrong lapel. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Be quiet, Harper.” Lucas’s back muscles rippled under her hands as he waved his, seeking the ranking officer’s attention. “Can I lower my hands?” Without waiting for permission, he rested them on his hips, where his briefs rode low. Harper continued to peek around him, afraid events were about to escalate. “Are you going to lower your weapons?” he said.
The cops exchanged glances and then the ranking officer took a step forward. “No can do, Detective. We have our orders.” He caught Harper’s attention again. “Ma’am, we were sent to escort you back…” He glanced at the officer to his right. “To the precinct for questioning.”
“In regards to what?” Harper’s throat was so tight with fear, the words came out high pitched and breathy. If they were taking her anywhere, she doubted it was to the precinct.
“The murder of Detective Folsom, ma’am.” The ranking officer rushed forward, his gun now aimed at Lucas’s head.
Lucas raised his hands again, and in the process shielded Harper from the rest of the room. It was short lived as the muzzle pressed to his temple and the ranking officer grabbed Harper’s arm, pull
ing her away from him. Harper wanted to struggle, but there were too many guns aimed at them. Lucas swatted the leader’s gun and punched the officer’s chin. She was free.
“Run!” he shouted.
She ran, screaming, as Lucas was tackled to the ground. They caught her at the door.
“Sir,”—he peered down at Lucas, bowed under the weight of a cop kneeling on his back—“you need to calm down. If you don’t cease and desist, we’ll have to take you into custody.”
Lucas continued to struggle, even after they cuffed him. “Who sent you? You’re not cops.”
Surprise, and then calculation settled on the ranking officer’s expression. Then he shrugged. “Fuck it. Bring him, too.”
Harper panicked, and then Lucas nearly bucked the guy off his back so all eyes were on him. Harper took it as a cue and punched her captor in the throat. He folded, clutching his throat. Then she ran, lunging for the front door, hoping to flag down help.
She didn’t make it past the porch before the ranking officer hauled her over a shoulder, and carried her through her yard, out the gate and onto the sidewalk. She screamed the whole way, struggling, hoping to sound the alarm. When they led Lucas out at gunpoint, she stopped fighting.
Even if she were able to escape, they had Lucas, and the van meant they were being transported to a second site which meant this wasn’t an execution, it was a kidnapping. For now. So escape together or die together. If this last year had taught her anything, it was team up, never give up. So she’d wait, suss out their options, and hope between the two of them, they’d come up with an escape plan. She wouldn’t run off and leave Lucas behind. Harper would rather die.
The cop pushed and shoved her, forcing her deep inside, and then Lucas followed, crab-walking toward the back. Poor guy had to do it with his hands cuffed behind him. When he was seated, Harper did the math. They’d come for her. Did that make Lucas expendable?
Tempted by a Touch (Unlikely Hero) Page 6