Lucas dropped a kiss on her cheek, surprising her. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
His kindness was making her teary eyed. He had every right to be angry with her. She’d ignored his advice to stay home, and now he was in a container, his life on the line. “Too bad the McDonald’s is probably poisoned.”
“You hungry?”
“No. I just hate to think my kale salad at lunch was my last meal.”
“You need to have more faith in me.” Lucas frowned. “Why do you give up so easily? On everything.” Harper had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about their present circumstances.
“Not everything. In fact, we MacLains are fighters. We rarely give up. Sometimes, though, even a MacLain knows when to cut her losses.” Like when people pulled guns and aimed them at her and forced her into a shipping container in the woods.
She walked to the door and hit it with her palm. For all the noise she made, she might have hit it with a pillow. The bucket lay where Lucas had kicked it. Picking it up, she hit the door with it, making enough noise to be noticeable. “Ouch.” Harper shook her hand out. Newton’s third law—bucket slams door, so door slams bucket with equal force, hurting Harper’s hand. “Physics is a bitch.”
“Put the bucket down.” She could see him restraining himself from getting off the cot to pry the bucket from her fingers, but instead he bent his knees, resting his forearms there, keeping his eyes front. “Were you referring to us? Did you cut your losses with me?”
The time she had with Lucas was the best part of her life. She went to bed thinking about it and woke wishing she still had it, but even he had to see she’d done them both a favor by leaving.
When she made it clear she wouldn’t answer, he shrugged. “We broke up. People break up all the time, right?”
“Right.” The only reason he was here with her now was because somewhere along the way, she’d become his job—embroiled in his case. “People break up all the time.” She banged the bucket on the wall. The next five or so minutes passed with long stretches of silence and the intermittent racket of Harper banging the bucket against the container wall.
“I miss you.” His words were spoken low, but they were loud enough for her to hear, and she could tell it hadn’t been easy for him to say them.
“I miss you, too.” She banged again. When he didn’t immediately pounce on her words, she felt obligated to qualify it. “But life happens.” She could feel him watching her as she paced, and she was becoming more and more agitated by their conversation.
“So what you’re saying is we’ll always have Paris,” he said. Deadpan.
Then he smiled. Harper smiled back, liking his reference to Casablanca; the part where Bogie sent Ingrid off on a plane with her husband, though she really wanted to stay with Bogie in war-torn Morocco. “We never had Paris. We had a pub in Dorchester for a while.” Harper couldn’t think about Boston without thinking about the Dublin House.
He left the cot, approached and stood so close she could feel the heat radiating off his near-naked body. “For a while,” he said. He took his time looking…at her hair, her upturned face, her breasts, belly and legs. Then he licked his lips, and seemed torn…maybe tormented was what she was seeing.
The bucket dropped from her fingers, startling her. She steadied herself by pressing her hands to his chest, and then the next thing she knew Lucas’s hands were gripping her ass, pulling her hips firmly against his, letting her know without question he was aroused. He held her gaze, and she saw his question. In the dim light, Harper wondered if he saw her response.
Whatever Lucas saw had him kissing her, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her, caressing until she was squirming in his arms, needing more, angling her head to deepen their kiss. When he cupped her breast, a jolt of desire forced her eyes wide, though she was blinded by her body’s reactions. It was all so overwhelming and familiar. She could have died happy right then, in his arms, regretting nothing.
The man simply turned her on. Always had. Now, her body tightening with anticipation, she found herself surrendering without a fight, bending to his potent lure. It felt right, like before, like it was supposed to be. The thought startled her. Avoiding his temptation was her one defense, and now even that was gone. Harper broke the kiss, uncertain if she had the strength to finish this and walk away again. The first time had nearly killed her.
Lucas drew his lips along her neck, nuzzling her jawline, nibbling along the edge of her mouth. “Kiss me,” he said. “Harper. Just a kiss.” She broke, giving in to her wants as well as Lucas’s. He buried his fingers in her curls and angled her head to delve deeper into her mouth. No thought, no sin was strong enough to make her not want him. Lucas bedazzled her.
And he felt so good. She ran her palms up his muscular chest, over his broad shoulders, and moaned as he reminded her he knew her body better than she knew it herself. Caressing the underside of her breast, the curve of her waist, the cleft of her ass, he dipped his head, nuzzling her neck, bending her over his arm to explore her breasts with kisses.
Trembling, squirming, Harper held his head as he drove her crazy with want, moaning as his hand slipped past the elastic waistband of her boxers and found her heat. Her legs nearly buckled, but Lucas caught her, captured her lips again and walked her backward until the cot hit their legs. She collapsed, but Lucas controlled her fall and followed her down, never breaking their mind-bendingly erotic kiss.
The cot’s springs protested as his body covered hers, positioning himself. She cradled him with her hips, her legs, and then Lucas drew her knee up and pressed his erection against her softness. She gasped and threw her head back, helpless to do more than feel. She didn’t want it to end. She fumbled for his briefs, wanting them gone as she pulled him closer, demanding he enter her body as his tongue so expertly entered her mouth.
The fourth cough was so loud, it echoed off the container’s sides. Her tongue was in Lucas’s mouth, so she knew neither of them were coughing. Lucas reacted first, pushing to his feet, he landed in a fighting stance between Harper and the intruder. It left Harper alone on the cot, bereft and befuddled.
“Caleb Smith?” Lucas roared. Harper flinched. “Un-fucking-believable!”
Chapter Five
Caleb Smith, supply runner to every shady organization on the East Coast, man with a thumb in everyone’s pie, was so large, he filled a good portion of the container’s door. It wasn’t just that he was taller than Lucas, he outweighed him by twenty pounds, too. Easily. And it was all muscle. Lucas would have admired that if he didn’t despise everything else about him. Even the jagged white scar on Smith’s throat didn’t lessen his disdain or prompt a modicum of sympathy. On Smith, it seemed less damage and more a calling card. He was still wearing his black leather jacket and scuffed boots, which told Lucas he’d arrived by bike, probably just now. Otherwise the day’s heat would have made the jacket prohibitive.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Smith’s voice was deep and gravelly, barely above a whisper.
Lucas could add kidnapping to Smith’s long rap sheet. “I’m going to bury you.” If he lived. He and Harper were at Smith’s mercy, and the guy had none.
“Bury me?” Smith smiled. “How dramatic.” He flexed his fists, as if contemplating using them. Lucas wished he would. He’d return the favor and show his appreciation for the last two hours.
“Stop it, you two,” Harper scolded. To Lucas’s mind, she didn’t seem nearly as scared as she should be.
Smith stepped aside, allowing others to enter.
“Is this a fucking party?” Lucas dragged Harper behind him, unsure of this new threat.
“Funny you should ask,” Smith said. “About the fucking, I mean. Had no idea you and Harper were a thing.” A frantic Marnie, her long brown hair in disarray, stepped into view, squinting in the darkness. Then came Harper’s brother.
“What the fuck?” Lucas couldn’t believe his eyes.
Harper scrambled past Lucas to reach he
r brother as Dane flipped on a flashlight. “Sullivan. What the hell are you doing here?”
As shock abated, rage took its place. “That’s my line,” Lucas said.
“How did you find us?” Harper threw herself into Dane’s arms.
“We knew where you were, Harper, we had you brought here.” Marnie glanced at Lucas’s briefs. “Where are your clothes?”
“What?” Harper gasped, and then punched her brother’s arm. “I thought we were dead!” She punched him again. “Dead! Do you understand?” She stepped back, glaring at all three. “This was Marnie’s idea, wasn’t it? You’re insane. You all are!”
Marnie exchanged uncomfortable glances with Smith. “A decision had to be made, and well—” She glanced at her husband. “Dane and I thought your safety was more important than any possible misunderstandings.”
Harper glared. “So you had Caleb steal us?”
Lucas hadn’t known Harper knew Smith, but with Marnie Somerville’s connection to the man, he shouldn’t have been surprised. “We deserve an explanation.”
“Us, too,” Marnie said. “Where are your clothes Lucas?”
Smith leaned against the container’s wall, speaking directly to Marnie. “Sullivan was an unexpected treat. My men said he wouldn’t leave her, so they took him, also.” Marnie seemed to be teetering between guilty pleasure and shock when she glanced at Lucas.
Tiny, about five four, long, black hair and huge, dark brown eyes, Dane’s wife was a mere slip of a woman, but nonetheless a force to be reckoned with. He’d pieced together a file on her months ago, but even with the addition of the intel he found in the IA file on the MacLains, his file on her was slim. It just got fatter.
Dane was reaching out to his sister. “Harper, I couldn’t take the chance you’d be hurt,” he said. “Joe’s murder…” He seemed moments from crumbling. “I had to follow up leads at the station, and I needed you safe, so we came up with this plan. It was the quickest solution to what we thought was an imminent threat.” He glanced around the container’s insides, showing discomfort with her accommodations. “It wasn’t ideal.”
“You think?” Harper glowered.
Marnie glanced at Lucas’s briefs again and then looked quickly away. “Am I the only person wondering why Lucas isn’t wearing clothes?”
Lucas met Marnie’s gaze with as much aplomb as a near-naked man with an erection could. “Next time you decide to kidnap me, make an appointment and then maybe I’ll be dressed for the occasion.” He arched a brow, waiting to see if she’d comment further. Dane looked uncomfortable. Marnie smiled, then indicated Smith.
“Harper, we know something you don’t, so don’t be mad,” she said. “Caleb’s heard rumblings on the street that you either have or know where Folsom put his list of dirty cops.”
“We’d assumed that already,” Harper said. “But I don’t have it or know where it is.”
“That’s not helpful,” Marnie said. “It only means they’ll torture you longer.”
“Marnie!” Dane scowled. “Not helping.”
Lucas lost his patience. “Dane, you aren’t supposed to be anywhere near this case, and you know it. If your involvement slips out, it will tank the DA’s chances of a successful prosecution.” He didn’t even bother bringing up the laws broken by bringing them here. It seemed like quibbling at this point. “How credible are those rumors?”
“Credible,” Dane said. “Harper is under lock and key until we can resolve this.” He grimaced, peering at their surroundings. “I never would have agreed to this place.”
“What?” Smith pushed off from the container, looking ready to go. “She was completely safe.” He indicated the untouched McDonald’s bag on the table. “Fed with the finest cuisine, and entertained…” He smirked at Lucas. “With vigor.”
“Back off, Smith,” Lucas said.
Dane shook his head, angry and upset. “Sullivan, I’m sorry you’ve been put out this way, but I promise I’ll explain everything later. And Smith, you’ll explain that remark now.”
“Did I say something?” Smith shrugged and fell silent.
Dane glared but allowed the prevarication. “I need to take my sister out of here. There are better ways to keep her safe.”
“Take me? Hello? You have to stop acting as if I’m a piece of furniture. Talk to me, please.” Harper confronted her brother. “Maybe even ask what I want to do.”
“Harper—” Dane began.
“Why, thank you, Dane. Yes, I’d love to go home and take a hot shower after a long day of captivity. Oh, did I mention the hike in? Will you look at Lucas’s feet?”
“Harper—” Lucas said, shaking his head. Dane was right. She needed to be hidden, just not here.
“No. I want a glass of wine and a long shower. The end. No discussion. You had no right to do what you did, Dane. No right!”
“You, young lady, had no right to see Joe today behind my back!” Dane roared.
The compartment went silent and everyone waited to see how this moment would play out. Harper seemed shocked, and Dane seemed tortured. The silence dragged out. Then Harper’s chin quivered.
“Listen…Harper.” Marnie glanced at her husband, her concern evident as she rested a hand on his arm. “This is serious. Dane was scared for your life. If the dirty cops are willing to kill Joe; a cop, one of their own…they’ll have no trouble killing you.” When Harper and Dane continued to exchange resentful stares, Marnie elbowed Smith, indicating with a jerking of her head and an overt look at the arguing siblings that Smith should intervene.
Smith shrugged. “They will kill you, Harper.” It didn’t help that his broken voice made the words sound ten times worse, a nightmare come to life. Or that Smith turned an accusing glare on Lucas as he continued. “Because the list will out them.”
Smith’s ham-fisted implication that Lucas was on the list, that Lucas was one of those dirty cops who would benefit from Harper’s death, twisted his gut. Oh, the irony. He’d devoted the last year to plugging into the dirty cop network, in an effort to infiltrate and take them down from within. That Smith pegged him as dirty told Lucas he was also plugged in to the network somehow. From the now defunct Whitman Enterprises end?
Harper wasn’t stupid. She’d picked up on Smith’s implication and was trying the idea on for size. After Folsom practically blurted out the same accusation back in the interrogation room, Lucas shouldn’t blame her for her suspicions. But he did.
“Really?” Lucas glared at Harper. Did she really think he was dirty? Lucas’s offended pride wouldn’t be ignored. “You think I want you dead?”
Harper shook her head. “Stop it. I didn’t say it. Caleb…implied it.”
Lucas glared at Smith. He suspected the guy was on a fishing expedition, hoping Lucas would give something up. Not a far-fetched supposition, considering one of Smith’s reported skill sets was acquiring valuable information to barter. Lucas held his peace and decided to ride the moment out. See where it went.
“No one here wants you dead.” Marnie’s eyes widened, and she shook her head, indicating the room with both hands pancake flat. “We’re Team Harper.” She patted Harper’s arm, then stepped back, as if uncomfortable with even that amount of intimacy.
Smith tapped his watch. “Ticktock, ticktock. What are we doing with Harper? Make a decision, because the scariest fuck I’ve ever met is scheduled to move in here, and his sedation is wearing off.”
Marnie shrugged. “If it was anyone else, I’d say dangle her out there and use her as bait. Quickest way to find answers.”
“No!” Lucas’s and Dane’s shouts ricocheted off the container walls and had Harper flinching.
“I said, if it was anyone else,” Marnie mumbled under her breath.
“We’re trying to save her life, not end it,” Lucas said. “We should hand her over to the federal marshals.” She’d be away from the people she trusted, but it seemed the best way to keep her safe.
Smith didn’t hide his suspicion. “Wh
at if that list has federal marshal names on it? Is that what you’re counting on, Sullivan?”
“Enough with the accusations,” Dane said. “We can only trust ourselves. If we know anything about how Ian Whitman’s organization worked, we know it’s far-reaching and interwoven up the chain of command. I’m not willing to risk Harper’s life on the assumption Whitman has no one on the federal marshals’ rolls.”
“I have a gun,” Harper said. “I can protect myself.”
Lucas remembered the many times he and Harper had gone to the gun range. She was a good shot…for a civilian. That didn’t mean she’d be able to use her handgun on a human being. “The lieutenant is already involved, and so is IA.” Lucas met Dane’s worried gaze. “We need their help, and we need to keep you out of this. Risking the DA’s chance to prosecute the case against Whitman or the dirty cops helps no one.”
Dane shook his head. “Are you prepared to trust Harper’s life to Lieutenant Zimmerman’s judgment? Or whoever IA decides to trust with her whereabouts? And before you answer, recall that Joe is dead. There can be no justice if Harper dies at the hands of these people. I wouldn’t survive it.” The starkness of his expression said he spoke the truth.
Harper’s chin quivered again, and Lucas wasn’t sure how he’d move everyone off this emotion train and back onto the by-the-book train. There were protocols in place for someone in danger. “We need to trust the system. I refuse to believe even the federal marshals’ department is infected by Whitman.”
“You can trust the system all you want,” Marnie said. “But I don’t. And I certainly wouldn’t trust Harper’s life to it.”
Lucas knew she had her reasons, and so did Dane. Their experience with bad cops and judges was fresh, but Lucas remembered the good cops and the good judges that made it possible to do the work necessary to take Whitman Enterprises down. Getting the evidence was one part of police work. The system was what brought a victim justice. “Luckily, you’re not in control of my case. I am, and in the end, I’ll be held accountable for the decisions made here.”
Tempted by a Touch (Unlikely Hero) Page 8