Tempted by a Touch (Unlikely Hero)

by Kris Rafferty

  “Her eyes are opening,” the manager said.

  “Harper, baby.” He cupped her cheek, staring at her eyes and finding them dilated. That couldn’t be good. “Harper? What happened?”

  She grabbed the back of her head. “Ouch. Lucas, my head.”

  Mr. Zelazny’s phone beeped. He checked it and frowned. “I’ve been assured an ambulance is on the way,” he said, continuing to read. Then he seemed surprised. “Please accept my apologies, but I have to go. Apparently customers saw one of my employees being kidnapped out front!”

  “Wait.” Lucas indicated the phone. “Who did they say it was? Peter Thompson?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” The manager rushed out just as the other associate rushed back in.

  “Tell me what happened,” Lucas said.

  “Peter Thompson stepped outside for some reason, and two masked men jumped out of a passing van. They grabbed him! We’ve called the police, and our private security company, of course. We’re accessing the security tapes now.”

  “I want a copy.”

  “Well, I don’t know.”

  “I’m Detective Lucas Sullivan. Tell the police my name when they arrive, but give me a copy of the tapes now.” Before they disappear, he thought.

  “Of course.”

  When the associate left, a guard took his place, standing against the wall. He was young, blond, and eager and reminded Lucas of himself at that age, before he knew anything. Now, Lucas was older and wiser, which was how he knew they were being played. He just didn’t know how.

  Somehow, someone knew their every move, almost before they’d made it. But how? He was stumped. Totally stumped. “Where is the ambulance? I want her checked by doctors.”

  “Lucas, just…stop.” Harper pushed from his arms and struggled to her feet, weaving enough that she soon found the need to hold on to the table.

  Lucas held his hands out. Not touching, but to catch, just in case. “What happened?”

  Still rubbing the back of her head, pale, more vulnerable than he’d ever seen her, she leaned over the safe-deposit box, staring inside. “There was a flash drive. Neon yellow. He must have taken it.” Lucas could see her frustration and then she brought her hand down and he saw the smear of blood on her fingertips. “I fell.” She blinked, as if focusing was an issue.

  Where was the damn ambulance? He turned to the security guard. “Make sure the feeds from inside and outside the bank are included in the security video I get. The last twenty-four hours.” No one could have known she was coming today, but knowing which bank Joe chose was a possibility. So it had to have been staked out, for days at least, waiting to see if she’d come. If he was correct, there was a chance there’d be video of a car, maybe a face they could recognize, anything to lead them to the next piece of evidence. “Nobody enters this room or touches anything leading here until the police okay it. Are we clear? It is now a crime scene.” Lucas paused, waiting to see if the guard would fight his instructions. He didn’t. “I want to see exactly what Peter did while he was in here. What he took. Everything. And I want it now.” The guard nodded before rushing off.

  The sound of metal on metal caught his attention. He turned and saw Harper closing the cover on the empty safe-deposit box. “I have to get out of here,” she said. Sounding woozy, she gave the impression she was about to become sick.

  They found Mr. Zelazny at the front desk, hovering over the receptionist’s monitor. “The ambulance is on the way, and this is a copy of the security feed.” He held up a thumb drive. Lucas grabbed it and ran because Harper was not waiting for anything. She hustled past him to the front of the bank.

  “I’ll take her to the hospital myself.”

  Dane had said, Harper first, the case second. Harper’s brother hadn’t been convinced Lucas understood that back at the farmhouse. Well, Lucas did. His challenge lately was convincing Harper she needed to put herself first.

  …

  Harper really didn’t feel well. When Lucas caught up with her, he put his arm around her and encouraged her to lean on him while they moved through the parking lot. She was embarrassed, upset, and afraid.

  “We’re going to Elliot Hospital.” He held her so firmly it almost hurt. “Your pupils aren’t dilated anymore. That’s a good sign.”

  “No. The farmhouse.” She had a raging headache and would happily forfeit her bank account if she could wiggle her nose and be plopped into bed, but barring a fairy godmother, Harper knew she wouldn’t be finding relief soon. She’d found a false bottom in the safe-deposit box.

  In her woozy stupor, she’d been drawn to it, the box a physical embodiment of one more failure, one more time the bad guys won. Yes, she’d wallowed, directing her angst at the box…not her best moment, but then she’d found its false bottom.

  “You might have a chloroform overdose.” He stopped Harper from walking into a car backing out of a parking space. Scanning the area, he waited for the opportunity to move. She could tell the moment he saw her car, because he tensed, and his impatience grew.

  “I’m not suffering a chloroform overdose.” He was being silly, and they had more important things to worry about.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do, because I’m not dead,” she mumbled. Though it felt as if she’d come close. Lucas hustled her to Dane’s sedan. “I promise,” she said. “Just embarrassed.” And nauseous. She gave him the keys.

  “You were attacked. That’s on me.” He clicked the doors open.

  “I earned a D in physics in high school, is that your fault, too?”

  “What?” He paused with his hand on the car’s door handle.

  “I’m saying you’re being crazy. How could you possibly know that a man who worked at a bank would use a drug-soaked rag to sedate me?”

  “Shit. Don’t remind me.” He opened the door. “Get in.” He didn’t meet her gaze but rather continued surveilling the parking lot. Harper could see he was shaken and angry, but didn’t think she should have to take the blame for it. She’d done what she’d thought was right. Why couldn’t he understand that?

  Harper slipped into the seat, never so happy to be sitting as she was now. “He kept saying he was sorry.”

  Lucas waited for her to settle before closing the door. When he hopped into the driver’s seat, he locked the doors. “That van kidnapping sounds familiar. Exactly how much does your brother trust Caleb Smith?”

  “Really? So now every van kidnapping will be laid at Caleb’s feet? Doesn’t seem fair.” Harper shook her head. “And to answer your question, they trust him a lot. Marnie trusts him with her life. Moreover, and I think more indicative, she trusts Caleb with all our lives. I’m telling you, Caleb isn’t involved, but maybe he can help find out who is.” Lucas was barely restraining himself, and it upset Harper. She’d seen him angry in the past, but never at her.

  “If the security feed doesn’t give any leads, Peter Thompson is at the mercy of whoever grabbed him. It could have been you. You understand that, right?” Lucas slammed his palm against the steering wheel, and pulled out of the parking space. “And we’ve lost the evidence.”

  Losing the flash drive mattered, but maybe this thing, this book she’d found could make up for it. Harper glanced out the window, second-guessing her decision to come to the bank alone. “I’m sorry, Lucas, I lost the list, but—”

  “Fuck the list. You’re safe. That’s what’s important. Ignore my venting. I’m still processing the bank, and you unconscious on that floor.”

  “But—”

  He stopped at the parking lot’s exit, put his directional on and met her gaze. “But nothing. It’s over. They have the list and that news will get out. No keeping that a secret, so soon you’ll be safe and everything can go back to the way things were.” He smiled a strained little smile, and then pulled into traffic. “Let the MPD fend for itself now. You’ve done your part.”

  His remarks took her aback. And threw up a red flag. An unwanted red flag, a flag
that had no business being thrown, but despite its unfairness, Joe, the FBI, Charlotte, and then Caleb’s warnings scratched at her already heightened paranoia.

  “The list is gone, Lucas, and with it our chance to bring the dirty cops to justice.”

  “You’re safe.” His words were designed to mollify.

  “You’re pissed. Admit it.”

  “You were trying to help. Part of me is grateful the damn thing is gone, so now you’re out of this mess.”

  “But—”

  “I’m in this case for the long haul, Harper. It’s my job. We’ll have another crack at cleaning house.” His explanation sounded reasonable, but then again, Joe Folsom had always sounded reasonable.

  She dabbed at the back of her head, and found the tiny wound had clotted, though it was still tender. Lucas was calming down, but she knew it wouldn’t last, certainly not after she told him what she’d found in the safe-deposit box. It made her hesitate, and in that moment of hesitation, it occurred to her once Lucas knew her secret, she’d lose control of it. He might decide to bring the book straight to Lieutenant Zimmerman. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  The book had to be filled with Joe’s secrets. It looked like a journal, and maybe it contained the list. What about her secrets? If this book was Joe’s, probably every secret she’d shared with Joe was in it, making this small leather-bound book potentially evidence against Harper, also.

  Harper had to tell Dane now, before he found out some other way. “The farmhouse. I want to go to the farmhouse.” And have a long-overdue talk with her brother.

  “Are you feeling okay?” Lucas wasn’t even hiding his fear now. “Are you feeling faint? Sick? Do I need to pull over?”

  “No.”

  “Talk to me.” He took a turn too quickly, and she had to brace herself. That’s when she noticed he’d driven her to Elliot Hospital.

  “Lucas! I am not going in. I have a headache. That’s all.” When he pulled into the trauma parking lot, she’d had enough. “I will take a cab. So help me— I am not a child.”

  “You were poisoned,” Lucas said. “Chloroform is a poison. You need blood tests or something to make sure you’ll be okay.” His lips were pinched, his cheeks taut as he dug in, adamant she listen to him. Harper had no idea why he wouldn’t believe her. They were wasting time.

  “I’m breathing,” she said. “Chloroform kills by suffocation. I’ll be fine.”

  Lucas glared out the windshield. “Just because you’re not dead doesn’t mean you’re not hurt.”

  “Take me to the farmhouse, please.”

  “Harper.” He kept his gaze on the doors leading into the trauma center, shaking his head, his mouth open and poised to speak, but he remained silent.

  “The list is gone.” And the fight had left her. “Let me be Dane’s problem.” Dane would know what to do.

  Lucas slammed his hand on the steering wheel, clearly conflicted but unwilling to speak, and for the twenty minutes it took to drive back to the farmhouse, Harper went back and forth a million times over her decision to remain silent also. Her secrets burned her throat as they longed to be set free, but…Harper had a horrible track record when it came to trusting people.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Lucas followed Harper onto the porch and into the farmhouse, where Marnie was waiting for them. Dane was gone, having hitchhiked to town, because his daughter had called and needed him. Harper was beside herself upset, and Marnie’s assurances that he didn’t mind the inconvenience didn’t calm her, neither could Lucas. She was putting distance between them, pulling away, and it felt familiar.

  After assurances she was fine, Harper retrieved her iPhone from Marnie, went upstairs, and left Lucas to explain what happened at the bank. Marnie nodded. “She’s fine. You two baby her. She’s a grown woman. I think what she did is kick-ass.”

  Lucas shook his head. “No, she’s not fine. This Harper—” He pointed up the stairs. “She’s not the Harper I knew a year ago. This Harper—” He didn’t know how to explain.

  “She’s coping,” Marnie said. “Just keep her safe. If the cops don’t find Peter Thompson soon, we’ll contact Caleb, see if he’s heard anything. We may have lost the list, but we now have the security footage from the bank. Dane will be happy. Now pray it leads us to find Thompson alive and talkative.” Marnie took the keys back, and phone in hand, left for home with the assurances she and Dane would be back once they got Elizabeth situated.

  That left Lucas standing in a silent house. His case was blown to shit, and Harper going off half-cocked had a lot to do with it. He hurried up the stairs and knocked on her door. When she didn’t respond, he entered, unwilling to be ignored. She was standing in the middle of the bedroom, next to the bed, and wasn’t happy to see him. “Why did you go to the bank behind my back?”

  “I told you.”

  “No, you made excuses. Tell me.” She’d said she trusted him. Had that changed?

  “You were so busy trying to protect me, you ignored the one fact you couldn’t get around. I was the only one who could walk into that bank today and gain access to the list.”

  “And what? We were taking too long to find a safer plan than just risking everything, and walking unprotected into a trap?”

  Harper frowned. “No one could have known about the bank, or that I was going there. I thought that made me safe.”

  “You were wrong. Somehow, the people after this list forced Peter Thompson to steal it. Your life wasn’t the only life on the line today.”

  “So what? You’re saying this is all my fault? Yeah, Lucas. I understand. Anything else? Or are you done explaining the obvious?” She turned her back on him. “I’m tired. Whatever you have to say can keep. I want to lie down.”

  He wasn’t leaving her. They had too much unfinished business. “What if you fall asleep and stop breathing?”

  “I’ll read.” Still holding her pocketbook, Harper kicked her shoes into the closet. “I promise not to sleep.” She lay on the bed and stared at him. If she was attempting to make him feel silly, it was working. Did he really think she was about to die? No. But something was going on with her. She wasn’t…it was as if she didn’t like him. That was it.

  “Have I done anything to piss you off? You know I had to follow you to the bank, right? As it turned out, you were in danger.”

  Harper sat on the bed, leaning toward him. “Why you? Why did you have to follow me to the bank? Why did you have to volunteer to be my bodyguard? My brother wants to put me in a plastic bubble, but you made sure it was you that shadowed me night and day.”

  He could say he was here because it was his case, that she was his responsibility because of it, but it would only be half the truth. Lucas sat next to her and held her gaze, hoping she’d see the truth there if she couldn’t find it in his words. “I took the job in Manchester because you were there. I knew we were over, but I guess…I liked knowing you’d be close. Boston didn’t make any sense anymore.” Lucas saw her flinch. “I took on the duty of keeping you safe because I couldn’t risk a world without you.”

  Harper’s chin quivered, and she bit her lip. “Lucas.” Her smile was shaky. “Loving each other was never our problem, was it? Ever.”

  Hearing that hurt on every level. She was being kind, but he needed the truth, or he’d never be able to get over her. “Then how could you leave me so easily?”

  “There was nothing easy about it.” She collapsed on the bed, turning her back to him.

  Lucas wanted to press for details, but she’d been through too much today. So he got more comfortable at the foot of the bed and leaned back against the bedpost, chewing over the facts, knowing they didn’t match up.

  If what she said was true, she’d loved him and left anyway. Who did that?

  Soon thereafter, Harper did fall asleep. Soundly. With care, Lucas eased off the bed and walked to her side, leaning close to make sure she was still breathing. Yes, his concern was overblown, maybe, but he couldn’t h
elp himself. Chloroform was scary shit. Her breathing was easy, not labored, and her sleep seemed normal, though she didn’t look comfortable. It was the pocketbook. It cut into her arm.

  It took two tries, but he was able to slip it off her body without waking her. Its weight surprised him, but women willingly hauling junk in expensive bags was nonsensical to begin with, so he dismissed the thought as he draped it over the foot of the bed. A book slid out despite his care. Lucas caught it in time to prevent it hitting the floor and waking her.

  He’d almost lost her today, and it had shaken him, shredding every assumption he’d made about himself. In Boston, he knew he wanted her, or rather, that’s how he quantified what they’d had. He’d been falling in love, with the understanding of for now.

  Lucas wasn’t one to lie to himself. He valued honesty in others and offered it in kind. Yet now it was so clear he’d been doing some sort of dance with Harper in Boston, pretending he wanted for now, when in reality the idea of losing her was too hard to even think about. He’d lied to himself to avoid the hard question…was he willing to fail at marriage and a family if it meant keeping Harper just a little bit longer? He didn’t want to admit to being that selfish, yet, there was no more pretending. He’d been horribly selfish. He loved her, probably had loved her as far back as when they’d first started dating.

  He was a fool, who confessed he took the job to be near her, without revealing he’d used the move to save his pride, to be around her, hoping to tempt her to cave, come back to him without Lucas having to bend and give up anything. But no amount of inviting glances, casual invites to go out had worked. She’d avoided him, snubbed his advances until…well, until she’d dropped into his case.

  Harper sighed in her sleep.