Falling for the Brother

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  “Miriam agreed to meet Grace...” She tuned in as he started to explain himself. “I was calling to arrange for security clearance for Grace in the family visiting room.”

  “We’re on a no-visitation lockdown.” She repeated what she’d already told him.

  “Right.”

  “It’ll be lifted as soon as the arrest is made,” she said, hoping, for a whole lot of reasons, that the police were correct in their assessment of a quick capture. “I can run the clearance for you so that as soon as we let in visitors, Grace can see Miriam.” She had to contact Grace, which she told him, and to which he agreed. She asked if any of Grace’s contact information had changed. She still had her cell number listed on her phone.

  And then they were done with business, but no one was hanging up. She wondered what he’d been doing all morning. He already knew what she’d been up to.

  “You think Grace will be able to get the truth out of Miriam?” she asked.

  “I don’t know what I think at the moment, except there’s something going on that’s split apart two women who’ve been best friends their whole lives. I’m hoping that being together, looking each other in the eye, might break down some barriers.”

  “You sound...” Sad, she’d almost said. “What did Miriam have to say this morning?”

  She’d been wondering on and off all day. Had hoped he’d call. But she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge any of that. She didn’t have to know in order to do her job. Either at the Stand or to help him.

  She listened as he told her about Miriam feeling pressured to go skydiving. And shook her head. The woman would climb out a window at night for the freedom to take a walk alone, but claimed to have broken off a seventy-year friendship due to skydiving pressure?

  There had to be more. But Mason wasn’t telling her about it. Not that she blamed him. She didn’t need to know, she told herself again.

  She just wanted to know.

  And where Mason was concerned, her wanting was off-limits.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  HE HADN’T ASKED if Bruce had said anything to her about Miriam. About his investigation. He hadn’t told her about Elmer, either. As soon as Mason hung up, he wanted to call again. But he didn’t. Harper wasn’t his friend. Or his helpmate. She was a witness.

  And the head of security in the facility keeping his grandmother safe.

  His task was to keep the designations straight, the boundaries clearly drawn. Living within his boundaries had never presented much of a problem. Even on the night he’d failed, he’d done relatively well. He’d taken a drunk and very alluring Harper back to his place, put her to bed in his room and walked out the door to sleep on the couch. He’d been down for the night when she’d suddenly been there on the couch with him. Giving him everything he’d ever wanted...

  Mason could have his pick of beautiful women, and had on multiple occasions. None of those connections, liaisons—whatever you wanted to call them—had ever lasted long. What cruel twist of fate, then, had decided that the one woman he couldn’t have would be the only woman he ever truly wanted?

  And then...to know she’d had a child who could be his...

  He made it through the day, tracing Miriam’s steps through credit card receipts—mostly taken from a file he’d gotten from her computer. Talking to anyone with whom she might have been in contact. Repeating the same actions for his brother, as much as he could do so covertly. He made it through a solo dinner of takeout back at his computer.

  And he was no closer to seeing the complete picture.

  He’d talked to O’Brien about a warrant to speak with Elmer. He didn’t want him brought in, though. He needed the old man to be compelled to speak with him at his home. Or some other place that wouldn’t draw attention. He’d been told the request might take a day or two.

  As much as he wanted the mystery solved, and the man who’d hurt his grandmother charged and away from any access to her, he had to be patient enough to get it done right. Any evidence he collected had to stand up in court.

  Gram was safe for a number of days. He could wait a couple.

  Funny, though, there was something else eating at him that wasn’t going to wait. You’d think, after five years, another week, another year, wouldn’t matter. Not so.

  Driven by a feeling that was stronger than all the logic he was throwing at it, he walked down to the beach not far from his home, purchased a beer from a stand and pulled out his phone. Midsummer, the place was populated with couples and partiers, but the sunbathers had all gone home, leaving him a clear, mostly private, path to walk closer to the water.

  It was after eight. Her little girl would be in bed.

  One thumb-push on his screen and Harper’s number was ringing.

  “Mason? Is everything okay?” She’d picked up immediately. Made sense, with her job, that she’d keep her phone close by.

  “I got your text about the arrest.” He’d put off responding earlier.

  “Okay, good. So we’ll be in Albina tomorrow by eleven. We’re meeting Bruce at the south beach, having lunch and then heading back to Santa Raquel.”

  He took a swig of beer from the plastic cup he’d been given. “Where are you eating?”

  “I’m bringing a picnic.”

  A family picnic on the beach. His gut tightened.

  “The south beach in July—we’ll be surrounded by tons of people the whole time, Brie can play if she wants to, and then we’ll get in our car and come home.”

  Albina’s south beach was heavily patrolled, keeping it clean and safe, which was part of the reason it would be so crowded. She’d made the safest possible choice.

  “I’ll be close, but stay out of sight.” He’d debated telling her that he was going to be there. But his presence wasn’t negotiable.

  “Okay.”

  He couldn’t tell whether she thought his being there was overkill, or necessary. Whether she was glad to know he’d be close. But he was somewhat placated by her lack of argument.

  He could only hope that her conciliatory manner would continue into his next topic of conversation.

  Sipping his beer, he let the hand holding it drop to his side, the cup next to the pocket of the khaki shorts he’d put on after dinner.

  “I should have clearance for Grace sometime tomorrow,” she went on. “She’s not in any system so it’s not as quick as it would be for someone with clearance elsewhere. We have to make reference calls as well as run the normal background check.” He nodded, fully versed in various levels of security clearance.

  “Thank you.” He hadn’t called about Grace. She had no cause to know that.

  A couple strolled past him, holding hands, their bare feet covered by the tide rolling in. His sandals weren’t even wet. Seemed like a nice idea, though, to be walking hand in hand in the tide. With the right woman.

  Taking another sip of beer, he toasted the couple who’d already disappeared from sight and said, “I want to have a DNA test done to determine Brianna’s paternity.”

  Her silence told him nothing. He checked his screen to make sure he was still connected.

  “I’m sorry to have to do this, but I need to know if she’s my daughter,” he told her. “I have no intention of upsetting her. I can be introduced into her life as her uncle. For however long...” He hadn’t done enough thinking about that part. “I don’t have any intention of ripping her away from Bruce. Or him from her...” He wanted that quite clear. “Unless...if he’s abusive, he shouldn’t be alone with her, whether I’m her father or not.”

  Her father. He’d said the words aloud.

  Crazy how you could live with something buried for so long, and go on as though everything was normal, but once it broke free, there was no stopping it.

  She still wasn’t speaking. Another glance at his phone told him she was there. A sip of beer g
ave him a second of false calm.

  “If she’s mine, I intend to pay half of her support, retroactively. If you don’t want to use it, that’s fine, it can go into a trust fund for college. Or whatever. But I have to support her.” That one he’d thought about a lot.

  He could never pay enough to compensate for what he’d done to his brother that night—another reason he had to pay all the debts he could.

  “Bruce has already refused a test.”

  He stopped as her words came softly over the phone. He’d just told her he had to find out if he was the father of her child and the most she could say was Bruce said no?

  “We don’t need Bruce.” He took a slow step, and then another. People on the beach, the tide, the setting sun all faded into a blurred background. Only her voice mattered. “If we have you, me and her, we’ll be able to get a definitive match if she’s mine. If we don’t, she’s probably not. There’ll be some markers because Bruce and I are brothers, but not enough to make it conclusive if she isn’t mine.”

  They were in his territory now—puzzle pieces. He might not run forensic tests himself, but he knew how to read the results.

  “Okay.”

  The word was so soft it didn’t even sound like her. For a second he wondered if he’d really heard it.

  “Did you say okay?”

  “You have a right to know.”

  Damn straight he did. But...

  Words slammed him from all sides. Plans. Logistics. Thank-yous. Apologies. Queries. Was she okay? Assurances...he wouldn’t ever do anything detrimental to Brianna. Or interfere in Harper’s parenting...

  Before he could voice any of it, she interrupted him.

  “I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow. Good night.”

  Just that quickly she was gone. Staring at his screen, at the evidence of the disconnected call, Mason stopped in his tracks, his cup of beer splattering against his feet.

  He’d made Harper Davidson cry.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  IT WAS WRONG to feel relieved.

  Bruce had refused to allow her to seek Brianna’s paternity confirmation. For four years Harper had carried around a need to know—to be certain that she wasn’t lying to herself, or her daughter. To be certain that she wasn’t being unfair to Mason. And for four years, Bruce had denied her the right to know.

  Shaking her head as she watched her ex-husband catch the little girl who’d just thrown herself out of the car and run toward him, she felt crippled with guilt. Bruce adored Brianna. And she adored him, too. You couldn’t see them together and not know that.

  So what if he didn’t call her often enough? She was four. The grin on his face was huge as he pulled his daughter into his arms and hugged her tight. Brianna sat on his hip, staring at him, her expression serious as she put her little hands on either side of his face and said something.

  Feeling another sharp jab of unwanted emotion, Harper hurried toward them. Sara, the counselor at the Stand, had had a talk with Brianna that morning, telling her why it was important to keep a secret about anyone who was at The Lemonade Stand. It wasn’t about the person. Or about who she might tell her secret to; it was about the very special place The Lemonade Stand was. Brianna had asked if it was like the North Pole and the elves who were there but couldn’t tell anyone because people didn’t believe in them.

  Harper had teared up as Sara smiled and told the little girl that it was something like that. She’d explained how people at The Lemonade Stand did very special work, including Brianna when she smiled at the women and children who lived there. She’d said that Miriam was helping, too, but no one, including her dad or her grandparents, could know about it.

  “Hey, there.” Bruce came toward her with an arm outstretched, and Harper was thankful again that Sara hadn’t singled him out when she’d told Brianna not to tell anyone that Miriam was at the Stand, or that she’d seen her great-grandmother—because then she might have to say where.

  “Hi,” she said, searching his expression for any sign that anything had changed with him. Searching his demeanor was habit. He leaned in, as though he was going to kiss her, and she turned her head so his lips landed on her cheek. Bruce hadn’t tried to kiss her since the morning she’d told him she was filing for divorce.

  Mason had said he’d be there, watching. She didn’t want him seeing Bruce kiss her.

  “What was that about?” she asked, as Brianna looked between the two of them. The last thing Harper needed was for her daughter to suddenly start thinking Mommy and Daddy were in love.

  “Sorry.” Bruce looked and sounded contrite. “It’s just so good to see the two of you. A month is too long. And being here, at the beach again...”

  He took Brianna to the beach regularly—always while Harper was with her parents.

  Which was where she’d be right then if she wasn’t somewhat worried that Bruce had hurt his grandmother. She didn’t trust him alone with his own daughter.

  That reaction brought with it a guilt that half-strangled her.

  “I didn’t mean to give a false impression,” she said now, “but I know your time is limited. I also know how much the two of you love the beach.”

  She’d needed an excuse to stay with them—which she couldn’t have done at his house without revealing that she knew Miriam was gone. And she’d needed their destination to be as public and safe as it could be.

  The holster she had on beneath the flowing tie-dyed tank she was wearing wasn’t because she feared Bruce and yet...

  What the hell was the matter with her?

  She was letting Mason’s doubts get to her and that wasn’t right. Or fair.

  But right and fair didn’t stop her from watching every second as Bruce and Brianna, in swimsuits, ran through the sand and played in the waves. At one point Bruce picked up their daughter and carried her out to greet a bigger wave. Sitting in shorts on her blanket in the sand some distance away, Harper tensed, but sat there, staring—and couldn’t help smiling when she heard the little girl’s squeal and then her laughter as the water crashed over them.

  “Again!” Brie yelled, her feet kicking against him. Bruce’s laughter traveled in the air as he walked into another incoming swell, maintaining his balance as the water washed over them.

  Brianna had told her how Daddy always took her to the wave. Harper now had an image to go with the story. A lovely image. A loving one.

  Brianna didn’t clutch Bruce’s neck out of fear. She sat easily on his hip, trusting him to keep her safe. She’d never shown any fear where her father was concerned.

  She just loved him.

  FOR ALL THE trepidation she’d felt, Harper found nothing to be bothered about with Bruce that day. He’d always loved her homemade chicken salad and thanked her for remembering as he devoured the two sandwiches she’d brought for him—telling her that, if anything, they were better than ever.

  He couldn’t talk about his case, but he told her that he was spending some time in a local resort hotel that week and much preferred the beach to the pool, where he’d been hanging out.

  His words, of course, drew her attention to his tanned shoulders and the chest that he’d left exposed as he sat down in his wet trunks to eat. She tried to feel even a tiny bit hungry for him. She hadn’t slept with a man in four years. And Bruce was, without question, a head turner. She hadn’t missed noticing the number of women who’d been watching him play with Brianna.

  And figured he’d had his pick at the resort pool. Had probably picked at least one of them; that seemed to be the way he got his in when he worked.

  All of which had nothing to do with her, but might explain why her libido wanted nothing to do with him.

  Brianna held his attention after that, and before Harper had expected, the visit was over and she was free to take her daughter and leave.

  Miriam hadn’t been mentioned,
but despite knowing there was something amiss with the older woman, Harper wouldn’t mention her. Miriam hated her, and Harper wasn’t allowed in her home, so Bruce never mentioned her, either. Miriam was okay, Bruce knew that much. So why would he voluntarily tell Harper that he wasn’t allowed to see her? Why risk giving her any cause to doubt him?

  “Assuming things go as I expect with the case, I’ll be down sometime next week,” he told Harper as he strapped Brianna into her car seat in the back.

  “Are you coming to our house to see us, Daddy?” Brianna asked, looking up at him with an expectancy far beyond her years.

  Bruce turned to Harper, his eyebrow raised. Asking permission to come to her home?

  “You’re welcome to pick her up,” she said. He was Brianna’s father and had a right to see where she lived, where she slept.

  He nodded, kissed his daughter and told her, “Yes, baby girl, I’m coming to your house so you can show me your room, just like you said.”

  “Good deal.” She nodded, her little feet kicking the back seat.

  Bruce looked at Harper, who’d turned around in the driver’s seat to watch, partially to be sure that Brianna was strapped in correctly—the cop in her. He smiled, holding her gaze.

  “Thanks for today, Harp. It meant...seriously, thanks.” His voice dropped, almost as though it was about to break.

  She swallowed back her emotion. Nodded. “We’ll see you next week, then?” Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly—a reaction to the sudden swell of need she felt to take her ex-husband in her arms and assure him that she was on his side.

  But she wasn’t. She wasn’t taking sides.

  His grin was quick. Sure. All confident, tough-guy cop, Bruce Thomas. “You can count on it,” he said. He told Brie he loved her to the moon, gave her one more hug and closed the door, watching as Harper backed out of the parking space.