Safe Harbor

by Kit Kyndall

  “And you have to disguise who you are, right?” asked the short-haired woman who’d entered first. She appeared to be in her late forties or early fifties, and she had an air of a militant general about her, though her eyes reflected her concern. “We’ll help you. And if he follows you here, we’ll cut off his balls.”

  She giggled and hiccupped at the same time as she imagined these three women trying to cut off Marconi’s balls. An inappropriate image of them using the manicure scissors came to her, and she giggled again. She abruptly cut off the sound, fearing there was an edge of hysteria to it, and if she surrendered to the urge to laugh, she might not stop until she was curled on the floor in a sobbing heap. “Thank you.”

  “We have to stick together,” said the redhead as she put down her backpack on the counter and started digging through it. “I’m sure I have some stuff in here that can help.”

  When she caught her bus forty minutes later, Julia had been transformed. Her normally sleek light-brown hair had been trimmed to just below her shoulders, and it was now a golden-blonde color, compliments of a box of hair dye the redhead had kept in her bag.

  She hadn’t revealed her own reasons for having a transformation kit, but it was clear the redhead had done this sort of thing before. She had been quick and methodical with cutting her hair and dying it, and the other two had pitched in with new clothes, a pair of sunglasses, and a hat that she could pull down over her face to disguise her features as much as possible in hopes of thwarting any attempts to identify her with the bus station’s CCTV system.

  None of her three new friends, who hadn’t shared their names, boarded her bus, but they stood nearby and waved at her as she looked at them out the window. She was certain she’d never see them again, which left a hint of sadness inside. She wouldn’t have such a good shot at making it if it hadn’t been for them.

  3

  It took almost three days to reach Great Falls, Montana, and then another few hours to take a connecting bus from there to Sunshine. She’d been expecting a cheery little town based on the name, but this one looked more like a dried-out husk of a ghost town. There were a few people moving about, but there was a general air of neglect to a lot of the stores that lined the main street.

  The only business that seemed to be thriving was a local bar. She tried to ignore the forlorn atmosphere and keep it from affecting her mood as she passed the bar to approach the sheriff’s station. She figured that might be her best bet, and she entered with a deep breath. She only hoped the people in the station wouldn’t press her for identification, because she had none, and she couldn’t risk giving her name to a law enforcement officer. Not until she knew who she could trust, if anyone.

  There was no one in the front office, so she rang the bell on the desk. A moment later, a tall man in his mid-thirties entered from a hallway and approached her. He eyed her with a hint of suspicion, which she tried not to take personally. She imagined it was a common expression among law enforcement officers, and a fallback reaction to immediately distrust a stranger—especially in a small town like this.

  She half-expected him to be wearing a cowboy hat, but he wasn’t. He did incline his head at her in a respectful fashion before speaking. “What can I do for you, miss?”

  “I’m looking for Justin Harbor. I thought you might be able to tell me how to find him?”

  His eyebrows drew together, and he scowled. “What do you want with him?”

  She just shrugged a shoulder. “Do you have his address, sir?”

  His lip curled. “I can take you out to his fancy spread, but I’d advise against it.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why is that?”

  “He’s dangerous. Likes to fight and always in trouble. A pretty gal like you doesn’t need to get mixed up with that.”

  Her heart raced in her ears, and her first hints of doubt appeared. Well, not her first hints. She’d spent the last two-plus days on the bus worrying about Mr. Harbor’s reaction to her arrival out of the blue, and fretting if he would really help her even when she mentioned Andre’s name and reminded him of Fallujah.

  Hearing the sheriff express his opinion of the man she was seeking to keep her safe gave her pause. What option did she have? She supposed she could confess everything to the sheriff, but if he insisted on calling the U.S. Marshals, she wasn’t certain if she would be safe. Was Franks the only one in Marconi’s pocket, or did it go higher? Without knowing for certain, she couldn’t risk confiding in him. Instead, she firmed her shoulders. “You mentioned giving me a ride? I’d greatly appreciate that, sir.”

  He shook his head, looking slightly disgusted, but he came out from behind the desk and through the bulletproof glass partition to join her in the lobby.

  She watched with a frown of concern as he grabbed keys from a hook by the front door, along with a shotgun. “Is that really necessary?”

  He just grunted. “Get in the car, ma’am.” His voice was glacial.

  When they were in the car, the silence stretched for a moment, and she felt the awkward need to fill it. “Are you the sheriff?”

  He nodded. “Lachlan Finch. Who are you?”

  “Julia Denn… Daniels.” Abruptly, she realized she couldn’t give him her full name.

  “How do you know Harbor?” There was a hint of suspicion in his voice.

  It only added to her anxiety, and she curled her hands together into fists on her lap. “Friend of a friend, actually.”

  “I didn’t know he had any friends.” He snorted before letting out a dark chuckle.

  The picture he was painting of Justin Harbor wasn’t inspiring confidence, but she tried not to indulge in the fear of what she might be facing. No matter how troubled the man was, or how much the sheriff disliked him, surely he had to be better than risking her life by staying with the marshals, while not knowing who was on Marconi’s payroll. Right?

  It didn’t take long to reach the outskirts of the town, since there wasn’t much town to start with. She looked around her as they drove, frowning at a large processing plant that was closed. “When did that go out of business?”

  “Couple years ago. It was the main employer for the town, so a lot of folks have moved on, and those who stayed are either tenacious or just out of options.”

  She nodded her understanding. It certainly explained why the town had such a different demeanor than its cheery name suggested.

  It was a forty-minute drive to reach Justin Harbor’s place—at least she assumed it was his when they reached a sign that said “No Trespassing,” along with a huge metal gate barring the road. With another snort/chuckle, as though he clearly enjoyed doing so, the sheriff didn’t even get out of the SUV. He simply went forward slowly until he nudged against the fence and pushed it open. “He doesn’t keep it locked. Its presence is enough to deter most folks.”

  She nodded, her mouth dry as she wondered what exactly Justin was trying to deter folks from. They went down a winding road, and despite her anxiety, she couldn’t help admiring the pretty farmhouse that came into view. Or was it a ranch house? She wasn’t sure about the architecture, but it was a sprawling one-story painted white, with light blue trim. It looked new and fresh, as did everything around them. It was a nice contrast to the depressing air of the town, and she briefly wondered if whatever issue the sheriff had with Justin had an economic factor to it as well.

  When he drew up outside the ranch house, she reached for her door handle and gave him a smile. “Thank you for the ride, Sheriff Finch.”

  He shut off the vehicle, clearly not intending to just drive away. “It’s my pleasure.” There was a gleam in his eye that suggested it definitely was his pleasure, but had nothing to do with her.

  She wondered what exactly she had walked into, or brought the sheriff into, as she slid from his SUV. She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and walked to the porch. It was firm and steady under her feet, without even a squeak of wood as she stepped onto it. She strode across it purposely, trying to ign
ore the presence of the sheriff a couple of steps behind her. When she reached the front door, she lifted a hand and knocked on the screen door, since there was no doorbell.

  It seemed to take forever before someone finally opened the door, and she was on the verge of knocking again, hand in the air, when it finally parted to reveal the man she assumed was Justin Harbor.

  For just a second, all thoughts of any kind fled her mind as she took in the man in front of her. He wore a flannel shirt and jeans, and his brown hair was overly long, making it fall onto his forehead in a way that caused her fingers itch with the need to push it back. He had a strong build and classically handsome features, with a short beard and mustache, but it was his eyes that really captured her attention. They were deep brown, and she was certain they could be soulful when they chose to be. Right now, they were hard and flat, though she didn’t think she was imagining the pain she saw there either.

  Slowly, Julia let her arm fall to her side as she waited for him to open the screen door. When it became obvious he had no intention of doing so, she drew in a deep breath. “I need your help, Mr. Harbor.”

  He jerked, clearly startled. A second later, his gaze flicked to the sheriff, and it was clearly a case of mutual disdain. “I don’t know what you need from me, or why you brought him here, but there’s nothing I can do for you.”

  Her mouth dropped open as he started to close the door, and without thinking, she pulled open the screen door and physically inserted herself so he couldn’t shut her out. “Andre Hart sent me.”

  At the sound of his friend’s name, he stiffened again, and a haunted expression entered his gaze for just a moment before his features morphed into one of aloofness. “What does Andre want?”

  “I’ll explain that you once you let me in, Mr. Harbor. He told me to remind you of Fallujah. That you still owe him for that.”

  For just a moment, his shoulders stiffened further, and his whole body radiated rejection. She held her breath as she waited to see if he would push her out before slamming the door, or finally open it a bit farther.

  “Come in,” he said with a resigned air as he opened the door the rest of the way. She had been braced against the frame to keep him from closing it, and it upset her balance, causing her to stumble forward. He provided a steadying hand on her arm, but let go as soon as she was on her feet again. “Hurry up.”

  Once more, she turned to the sheriff. “Thank you again for the ride, Sheriff Finch.”

  He was frowning at her. “Are you sure you want to stay here, ma’am? I can’t guarantee your safety if you enter there voluntarily.”

  It was an ominous warning, but she already knew she didn’t have any other options. She simply straightened her shoulders and nodded her head. With a sigh, the sheriff turned and walked away, pausing at the steps to the porch to look back, this time over her shoulder and directly at Justin. “I’ve got my eye on you, Harbor. If anything happens to this girl, I’ll finally get you.”

  She was surprised when Justin didn’t reply, except for slamming the door behind her as she entered the house. A chill went down her spine as she wondered what she was in store for, and why Andre had sent her to this man.

  Justin supposed he should offer his guest a cup of coffee or something, but since she was an unwanted guest, bringing up unwanted memories, he wasn’t in the mood to be hospitable. Instead, he braced his hip against the nearest counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Start talking, and make it quick.”

  Her eyes widened, and she was clearly intimidated by either his stance or his words, or perhaps both. He had a reluctant stirring of admiration when she visibly pushed past all that, straightening her shoulders and matching his brusque tone. “Andre sent me to you to keep me safe. I saw a mobster kill my friend, and I’m due to testify against him. He infiltrated the marshals, and I don’t know how far up. Andre died to protect me, and he told me you were the only one who could keep me safe. He said not to trust anyone else.”

  It was a good thing he had the counter to support him, because otherwise he might have fallen over backward at her words. What the hell was Andre thinking, sending a vulnerable woman to him for protection? He could barely function some days enough to take care of himself, let alone another burden like the one his friend was trying to thrust upon him. Suddenly, the rest of her words filtered through his brain, and he groaned softly. “Andre’s dead?”

  She nodded, and her gaze showed her sorrow. “He did his best to protect me, but it was him against four others, including his partner. He told me not to trust anyone except you. Was Andre mistaken?”

  He snorted. “I don’t know what the hell Andre was thinking, and I don’t how he expects me to protect you.”

  Her shoulders fell, and it was obvious she was bracing herself to be sent on her way. “What about Fallujah?”

  He arched a brow. “What about it? I don’t owe you. I owe Andre.” At the words, he closed his eyes as a sharp pain shot up his leg. It was both a phantom memory of the pain of that shrapnel entering his leg, and the current older ache that came from the seasoned injury that would never fully heal. He damned Andre for reminding him of that, and damned her for being there, intruding on his life.

  With a sigh, he opened his eyes. “You can stay here, but I can’t keep you safe. Just stay out of my way, and keep your head down. Hope you had better sense than to tell Finch your name…in case they’re looking for you.”

  Her eyes widened, but she nodded. “I gave him my first name before I thought better of it, but not my last.”

  He shrugged a shoulder. “At least that’s something. Make yourself at home, I guess. There are several guestrooms. Pick one and stay in it.” Knowing he was being unbearably rude, but unable to do anything to counter the instinct, he pushed away from the counter against which he’d leaned and moved past her. As he did so, his body brushed hers, and the scent of her filled his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, allowing just a brief, tantalizing visual of how it would be to see her stripped bare, to explore her tempting curves, and feel her slick heat wrapped around him.

  His reaction spurred him to quicken his step, and he moved away from her and out of the kitchen as quickly as possible. He went back to his den/office, slamming the door behind him and barely resisting the childish urge to lock it to keep her out.

  Instead, he paced around the small confines of the cozy room where he spent most of his time, ignoring the twinge of pain in his leg. Why her? He hadn’t reacted so strongly to a woman since he’d been discharged three years ago. There’d been a couple of women he’d slept with before coming back to Sunshine, but he’d been celibate in the eighteen months he’d lived there.

  He hadn’t even really had interest in any women—not that there were many in his age group who were unattached. The few who were steered clear of him, just like the rest of the good folks of Sunshine. Not that he could blame them.

  This woman, whose name he hadn’t even learned yet, was an unwanted complication in his life, and when he added in an unexpected attraction, he knew it was going to be torture having her there. He could only hope she wouldn’t have to stay long, and certainly not long enough to disrupt his routine, or see inside his soul.

  She was bound to find it as dark and ugly as everyone else, and he refused to put himself out there to be rejected by someone who was little more than a passing inconvenience. She’d be gone soon enough, and he could return to his usual routine, finding comfort in silence, peace in solitude, and serenity in the bottom of a bottle of Jack on the bad nights.

  4

  After he left her standing there in the kitchen, Julia lingered for a few minutes as she tried to absorb Justin’s attitude. She hadn’t expected a tickertape parade, but neither had she expected him to be so hostile and unwelcoming. For the first time, she had some doubts about Andre’s judgment, if he thought her best chance of surviving to the trial was staying with Justin Harbor.

  On the other hand, what choice did she have? She still had a
few hundred dollars from Andre’s credit card, but that wasn’t enough to support herself and pay for lodging, while trying to remain hidden, as she waited weeks for the trial date to approach. Since lawyers had a way of being slippery anyway, who knew how long it would be before the trial actually took place? It could be months, or maybe even a year. Without identification, how would she find a job, and without a job, how could she take care of herself? That left only a few, unsavory options open to her as a woman, and she refused to contemplate any of those.

  Justin Harbor was better than nothing in that regard. Despite his unwelcome attitude, he was certainly easy on the eyes. It was shallow to notice such a thing, but she couldn’t deny his brooding air was somewhat sexy, though she had better sense than to get mixed up with someone like him, who clearly had his own demons—or else he was just a rude ass.

  Finally accepting he wouldn’t be returning to show her to a room, she followed the advice he’d given her and selected one of her own choosing. The ranch house was even bigger than she had expected, judging from having seen it on the outside, and there were several guestrooms from which to choose. A few had remained undecorated, but he had at least two that could be used right away, including having what smelled like fresh linens on the bed.

  After selecting the closest one, with its blond stained furniture and yellow and white quilt on the bed, she went straight to the bathroom attached to it and indulged in a long shower. By the time she had finished, she was too exhausted to think of anything else, so she went straight to bed. After being on the bus, combined with the tension of the last few days, she wasn’t at all surprised to find she slipped easily to sleep.

  When she woke, a quick glance at the old-fashioned windup clock on the nightstand revealed it was a little after two in the morning. Her stomach rumbled, and she slid out of bed with the intention of finding something to eat. It was only as her bare feet touched the cool wooden floor that she really remembered she had nothing to wear.