Her features softened. “So what did just happen to you?”
“I got into a fight,” he said, unwilling to say more if she couldn’t remember.
“When? With who?”
He loved that, even though her hands were probably throbbing, she refused to consider herself.
“I promise you,” she continued, “I’ll ruin him. Me and Lana, we have a system.”
He donned his best “I’m a cop and you’re in trouble” expression. “What system?”
“Oh, uh. Hmm. Never mind about that.”
As if he’d really arrest her for defending him. A body-cavity search, maybe. A stint with the cuffs, definitely. But anything behind bars? Probably not. “So how long have you been having those blackouts?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she muttered.
“Do it, anyway.”
“No.”
Stubborn. “Here’s how this is gonna work. You’re gonna show me yours, and I’m gonna show you mine.”
A calculating gleam entered her eyes. “I do want to see yours, so…okay. Yes.” She nodded. “They started just before I moved here.”
His frown returned. “Same for me.”
“So you really do have blackouts?”
“I do.”
A thousand different emotions played over her features. “I can’t believe… You’re the first person… Levi, do you know what this means?” she asked, adjusting herself on his lap, once again straddling him.
“No.” Only the memory of what had happened the last time they’d been in this position kept his hands at his sides.
“I’m not alone! Do you know how thrilling that is? I mean, no, not thrilling, that would be a terrible thing to feel.” Her nose scrunched as she struggled to experience what she deemed appropriate. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with something like that. It’s terrible. But I’m not alone!”
“Me, either.” And he was as thrilled as she was, he realized. For the first time since his parents’ death, there was someone who understood him.
“What do you think this means?”
“I don’t know. Does Lana have them, too?”
“No. I asked.”
But had the secret-keeping Miss Bonnie Wee Cutie told the truth? He had to interrogate that woman.
“That’s what was wrong with you when I first got here, I bet,” she suddenly exclaimed. “You were in the middle of a blackout, weren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you know what time or where you were when it began?”
“It hit a short while after I left you. I had just talked to my friend at the station, was walking to the elevator to leave, and that’s the last thing I remember.”
She toyed with his shirt, twisting the material. “I can fill in a bit of the missing time. I came over around midnight to speak with you, but you didn’t answer. The door was unlocked, by the way. When I came in, you were sitting on your couch, staring into the darkness, unaware of anything around you.”
Relief cascaded through him. He’d always wondered—fine, feared—what he’d done while lost to the darkness, and sitting on his couch hadn’t made the list. “What did you want to speak with me about?”
Her hand flattened over his heart, her nails almost cutting past his shirt. “Well…the blackout here wasn’t the only one I experienced today. One second I was waiting for you, the next I was in front of my painting. I’d filled in a few more details.”
He was gripping her by the waist, holding on to her as if she would slip away at any moment, before he even realized he’d moved. “Tell me.”
“I… The girl I’m painting…it’s Lana.”
Lana? Impossible. But…the secretiveness, the trepidation, the odd behavior, reporting her friend missing but never reporting her found…yeah, the pieces could fit. “Where’s the painting now?”
“My apartment.”
He would study it—in a bit. “So, you think she was abducted, tortured and somehow escaped,” he said, a statement, not a question.
“Yes. I mean, I know I told you the girl in the painting was dead, but I had to be mistaken about that.”
“And?”
“And I think I went looking for her…saw her trapped, hurt.”
Poor darling. “Have you recalled anything from the scene itself?”
“No.” The rapid puffs of her breath were the only sound in the room. “I’m stumbling on one fact, though. Like me, Lana wasn’t ever found with injuries.”
There was that, wasn’t there. “Maybe she healed during one of your blackouts.”
Her shoulders drooped. “Maybe.”
“There’s one way to find out what happened to her,” he said.
She sighed. “I know. I don’t like it, but I know.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Though Harper knew Levi expected to return to her apartment that very second, shake Lana awake and treat her to an intense interrogation, and though Harper needed to hug her friend and cry with her and promise to make everything better, her emotions were still raw, the fear of sinking into another black hole a living entity inside her. She wanted to stay here, inside Levi’s apartment, safe from the sorrow that awaited her for just a little longer.
He just smelled so good, heat radiating off him in continuous waves, wrapping around her. One of his hands caressed her back, and the other stroked the side of her leg. Both soothed her, despite the fact that she usually hated being touched, and all too soon her eyelids grew heavy. She yawned.
“Can we postpone?” she asked. “Just until morning. Please.”
“Begging doesn’t work with me. This needs to be done, Harper.”
“I know, but I’m not at my best and I want to be at my best when we do this. Pleeease.”
A pause. A sigh. “Begging didn’t used to work,” he grumbled, and he stayed put.
A soft chuckle escaped her. “Don’t beat yourself up. I’m irresistible.”
He said something to her, but he sounded far away. She tried to respond, she really did, but…
…floated away…into another darkness, though this one offered comfort rather than terror. Maybe because she could still smell the musk of Levi’s scent, could still feel the warm pulse of him, not just at her side but all over.
When the weight finally lifted from her eyelids, she blinked awake. A frown formed as she cataloged her surroundings. She was inside a strange apartment, stretched out on an unfamiliar couch. The overhead light was on, sunlight streaming through a dark curtain.
Morning had arrived, she realized. The last thing she remembered was talking to Levi, and agreeing to speak with Lana.
She sat up—or rather, tried to. Strong arms were banded around her, holding her in an intractable grip. Panic sparked to life while she attempted to orient herself. Warm breath trekked over her neck. A man’s breath. A man who was aroused.
Had she blacked out, left Levi and gone home with a stranger? Bile burned a path up her throat as she struggled against that vise grip.
A growl rumbled from the man. “I’ve got you,” a raspy voice said. “Be still.”
A raspy voice she recognized.
Levi. Frowning, she glanced down, spied the bronze of his skin and the light dusting of dark hair. Drank in the strength of his fingers, and the thin scars that crisscrossed his wrists.
As quickly as it had formed, the panic left. Relief danced through her. But…this made no sense. They weren’t inside his apartment. The furnishings were different. Before, there’d been no artwork on the walls. Now portraits of animals playing poker…and golf…and baseball filled the walls. Walls that had gone from white to pale blue in a single night.
“Levi,” she said.
“Harper,” he replied, his tone letting her know her name was a curse.
“You awake?”
“I’m talking, aren’t I?”
Growling, more like. “Not a morning person, huh?”
“Not a morning, afternoon or evening person. You’ll just have to deal with it
because, this time, you’re to blame. You stood up three times, and once even made it to the hallway outside.”
Sleepwalking. The number-one reason she’d become a fan of insomnia. “I don’t remember any of that,” she admitted.
His arms tightened around her for several seconds before he sat up, dragging her with him. Sadly, he severed contact and she found herself mourning the loss of his strength and his heat. How unlike her. But then, with his confession about his own blackouts, his determination to help her, Levi had busted through her instinctive safeguards, making her as comfortable with him as she was with herself.
“So where are we?” she asked, smoothing her hair from her cheeks.
“Where else? My apartment.”
She blinked over at him, confused. “And you decided to do a little redecorating while I was sleeping?”
“What are you talking about?” Frowning, he stood and padded to the kitchen, where he stumbled around as he gathered supplies for coffee. His shirt and pants were wrinkled. Sometime during the night he’d removed his shoes and socks and now his feet were bare. “You fell asleep, I helped you get comfortable, got comfortable myself and was out soon afterward.”
“But your walls.” She waved her hand over the portraits.
He glanced over his shoulder to examine them. “Yeah. What about them?”
She looked at his face, intending to gauge his reaction to her next words, but she got caught on another thought trail. The swelling had gone down in his eye and cheek, and his skin was only slightly discolored. Last night, he’d been black-and-blue. The split in his lip had already scabbed over.
“You heal quickly,” she announced.
“Harper,” he said on a sigh. “The walls.”
Right. The walls. “Yesterday they were naked.”
He froze, his hand raised to pour in the grounds. Slowly he set everything down and turned toward her. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I always study a person’s walls.”
His brows knitted. Suddenly he looked as confused as she felt. “Why?”
“Art. Why else? You can learn so much about a person that way.”
He shook his head, as if dislodging a pesky thought. “And mine were…naked, you said.”
“Yes. And a different color!”
His gaze swept over each of the portraits a second time, lingering, taking in every detail. “I recognize every piece, recognize the color. That’s how they’ve looked since I moved in.”
Her stomach bottomed out, the implications almost too much to take in. “One of us is mistaken.”
“Or both of us are right and something weird is going on.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Forget the coffee. Let’s shower, and go chat with Lana.”
“Shower…together?”
“Well, not now,” he grumbled. “You can use the guest bathroom if you want.”
“I do. Thank you.” Though she was tempted…
As he stalked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom, Harper lumbered to her feet.
She found the guest bathroom easily enough, only to discover a still-packaged toothbrush, a fresh tube of toothpaste and every feminine product known to man. Or woman.
As hard and gruff a guy as Levi was, he sure was prepared for female guests—something Harper wasn’t sure she appreciated. Was he a player?
It wasn’t like Harper had any type of claim on him, especially considering she’d just denied him, but still. He’d held her all night long. Before that, he’d kissed her. So…she had a claim on him.
Yeah, she’d first thought to keep things purely professional between them. But guess what? She’d just changed her mind. For sure this time. If he’d wanted to enjoy his bachelorhood, he should not have invited her to happy shower time. He should have kept his lips and hands to himself. He should have refused to snuggle her and keep her safe.
When she stepped out of the stall, dripping wet and wishing she’d looked for a towel before making use of the water, she found a small pile of clothes resting beside the sink. A T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants—neither of which belonged to her.
That Levi, she thought, unsure whether she wanted to grin or slap him. She’d locked the door, but he’d come in, anyway. At least the clothes belonged to him rather than another woman.
By the time she finished rolling the soft material at her wrists, waist and ankles, he was in the living room, waiting for her. He eyed her up and down, nodded his approval despite the fact that her hair was wet and the bulk of the clothing made her look as if she’d gained twenty pounds since they’d last seen each other.
While her heart drummed erratically, she gave him the same perusal. He wore another black shirt and pair of black slacks, but he somehow looked more delicious than ever. So unfair.
As he ushered her into the hallway, she said, “So those tampons in your guest bathroom…”
“They aren’t mine, that’s for sure,” he said, locking his door.
“I know that. Moron! So whose are they?”
“You’re not gonna like the answer.”
“Tell me, anyway.”
“They belonged to my ex, and I failed to throw them out.” He escorted Harper down the hall and up the stairs to her apartment.
“Why would that make me angry?”
“You might think I kept them because I still had feelings for her. I don’t. You might think I meant to let your roommate use them, since I’d planned to date her. You might think I’m obsessive about keeping what’s mine…and you’d be right, and the knowledge might scare you away.”
She locked on to one thought. He’d first wanted Lana. “Why did you kiss me if you wanted to date my roommate?” she gritted out. Oh, he’d mentioned his desire to hook up with Lana before, but they’d just met and she’d just irritated him and that could have been a taunt. This wasn’t.
“See?”
“Answer me.”
“I didn’t say I still wanted to date her.”
“But she was your first choice.”
“A choice made in a moment of insanity.”
“So?”
“So, you’re going to throw it in my face the whole time we’re together, aren’t you?”
The whole time we’re together. That was relationship talk, and it was the only thing that mollified her. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.”
“I probably shouldn’t admit this, either, but that’s kinda hot.”
And he was hooked on her, she remembered him saying. Well, okay, then. She wouldn’t punish him too badly.
“Lana,” she called when she was inside their place, hoping to give her friend time to wake up, dress or whatever she needed. “Lana!”
Silence.
“Wait here,” she said, and went to Lana’s bedroom. Inside, she flipped on the light. The bed was empty, the covers askew. The closet was empty, as well, no clothes remaining.
As she flattened her hands over her stomach to ward off an oncoming ache, she felt rather than saw Levi come up behind her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“She’s gone.” And she’d left in a hurry. Some of her things were on the floor—a shoe, a pair of panties and a brush—as if they had fallen out of a hastily thrown-together bag.
Levi brushed past her and searched every inch of the room. She stood there, numb, as she watched. Why had Lana left her? And she had left her.
“What are you doing?” she asked when Levi crouched on the floor and traced his fingertips over the carpet fibers.
“Checking for foul play.” He went through the entire space from top to bottom before ushering her to the dresser and motioning to a wrinkled piece of paper. “Read it, but don’t touch it, okay? I want it dusted for fingerprints. And tell me if it’s her writing and if she sounds normal.”
Harper’s eyes watered as she glanced down. She had to wipe them three times before she could make out the words.
Please do not be mad, Harper. Your painting…I do not know why you paint me. I was not there, I s
wear to you. Nothing was done to me, and I witness nothing done to anyone else. I do not know what it means, but this has scared me. I will take off for a while. I must figure some things out. Don’t worry about me, okay? I will be fine. And so will you. Your detective will take care of you now. I am sorry I couldn’t. I love you more than anything on this earth and nothing will ever change that.
P.S. I know I told you the OKC branch of A.M. did not wish to take your case, but that was a lie. I do not want them involved in this, no matter what. Promise me. Instead, I want you to go to Tulsa and visit the A.M. offices there. I called, and they expect you. They will take you seriously. Go to them, please, you and your detective both. What if you’ve seen into future?
Harper could see the tearstains on the paper, knew Lana had cried while she’d written this. “She definitely wrote this, and not under duress, but I don’t understand it,” she whispered.
What if Lana was right and she had seen into the future? What if Lana would one day suffer atrocities at some madman’s hands? What if—
“I can see where your thoughts derailed, and you need to get back on the right track. What if can be two of the cruelest words ever created if you let them.”
True. They lit a fire under fear while proving nothing, stopping nothing. And they could be wrong, her worry pointless. “If the painting is a glimpse of the future, why am I missing so much of my life in the here and now? Why am I having blackouts, but Lana’s not?”
“Maybe she is. Maybe she lied. Why would she not want you to visit After Moonrise here in Oklahoma City?”
Lied…lied… Lana could have lied to her. Always they’d shared everything. Money, clothes, cars, food, sorrows and pains, joys and rewards. Brutal Honesty had been their motto.
Do I look fat in these jeans?
As a rhino.
What if my date tries to kiss me?
He won’t. Not with that garlic breath.
“Maybe she didn’t want her coworkers involved in my potential crazy,” Harper said. Maybe. So many maybes.
Levi’s hands settled on her shoulders. “I’ll ask one of my friends to track her, watch her, guard her. She’ll be kept safe, I promise you.”
After Moonrise Page 17