Fearless For Love (Lovelly #3)

by Clara Stone

  Fisher steps back and skeptically eyes our surroundings. “I know you didn’t call me to meet you under this bridge just to apologize. So what’s up?”

  “You’re right. Lincoln’s meeting us here in a few, and I need you to help me convince him to help us. ”

  He gives me a surprised look, so I take a deep breath and explain everything I found out in the last few days: Gomez and the warning I got from Stamos, the big announcement, my plan to make Lincoln and Krish confidential informants, and how I think we’re gonna take Stamos down. We talk through the holes in my plan, dissecting the what ifs and the possibilities, but at the end we agree on one thing: we need to bring Gomez in so we can nail Stamos.

  “So January 21, huh?” he finally says as our plan-making lapses into silence.

  “Yeah,” I lean back against the big pillar again.

  “We’re gonna have to move fast to get it all done.”

  “Yup.”

  Lincoln’s car pulls up right then, parking next to Fisher’s, and we let the conversation drop. He slides out, shutting his door before walking toward us. He shoves his hands into his pockets and the car’s security system beeps behind him as it locks.

  “Sup.” He jerks his chin toward us. “What’s up with the location?”

  Fisher and I look at each other for a moment.

  “Should you tell him, or should I?” Fisher asks.

  I take a step back. “He was your friend first, you tell him.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Lincoln says looking from Fisher to me, then back to Fisher.

  “Lincoln,” Fisher says, stepping forward and putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “What we’re about to tell you is some crazy shit, but promise me you’ll listen to the entire thing before you go off running.”

  “Okay,” he says, looking more nervous by the second. Fisher smiles encouragingly and launches into everything It takes approximately twenty minutes to tell Lincoln about our involvement with the FBI, how we joined Stamos’s gang solely to take him down, and finally, how we need his help to do it. By the time Fisher’s done, Lincoln’s brown skin has turned pasty and his eyes are big and round, scared.

  “So, wait,” Lincoln says as he looks between me and Fisher. “You’re both FBI?”

  Fisher shakes his head. “No. I got kicked out, but he is.”

  Lincoln covers his head with both his hands and paces. “Shit. Shit, man.” He turns and walks back quickly, his hand stretched out like he’s reaching for something, or maybe trying to push us away. “I can’t be associated with you. Do you know what Stamos would do to me? To Krish? Hell, he nearly died just for saying he wanted out. If Stamos thinks we’re working with the FBI . . .” He shakes his head. “Nah, man. I can’t.”

  Shit. Things are not going as I hoped. But then, when do they ever?

  So I move on to my next tactic: scare him enough to make him think he has no other choice. I feel like shit for doing this, but I have to. I need his help to bring in Gomez.

  “You don’t have a choice, man.” I walk toward him, my arms spread wide. “We’ve been friends since day one. Do you really think he’ll believe that you haven’t been in on it from the beginning if the truth about me comes out?”

  His eyes go wide. “He’ll have to.”

  “He won’t, man. Stamos won’t think twice about putting a bullet in your head if he thinks you’re double-crossing him,” Fisher says. “Remember Paul? He shot him because he let some guy get away with his stash.”

  Lincoln looks at me, pleading. “But I didn’t do anything.”

  “You’re associated with me, Lincoln. That’s enough to have a target painted on your forehead if my cover is blown.”

  He crouches down, his hands on his knees as he breathes loudly. “I don’t want to die.”

  I get down to his level, next to him, and look him in the eye. “And I won’t let you. You help me bring in Roberto, and I promise, we’ll get all of this taken care of. We’ll put Stamos away for good, get rid of your criminal record, and put you in witness protection.” When he still doesn’t respond, I add, “Just like Krish.”

  He looks at me, comprehension dawning. “The paramedics?”

  I nod. “He’s in FBI custody, getting the best medical care under an assumed name. Do this one little favor for me, and I’ll make sure no one else will ever be hurt because of Stamos.You won’t have to work for him anymore. Ever.”

  I know that’s one hell of a promise to make, but I’m desperate. For my plan to work, I need Fisher and someone else. Unfortunately, that someone else is Lincoln.

  Lincoln looks up, his face red. “Fine,” he finally says, and I could’ve kissed him.

  “Thank you.” I get to my feet and take a step back, turning to Fisher. “Let’s make this happen as soon as possible. I’ll notify Wilson that the plan is a go. We know Roberto will be at Blue Tango in about two weeks, and we need to keep him there until the FBI raids the club. I’ll worry about coordinating that.” I look from Fisher to Lincoln, making sure they’re both listening. “You and Fisher just need to make sure Roberto doesn’t flee the scene before we can arrest him.”

  Lincoln nods, looking nervous and slightly ill.

  “Okay. Good. Now . . . any questions?”

  “What if I get made?” Lincoln asks, finally standing up. “I can’t go back.”

  “Don’t worry, when the FBI raids Blue Tango, they’ll arrest all three of us for show, and when all is said and done, you can disappear into WITSEC.”

  He nods, satisfied and then shoots a glare at Fisher. “I’m still not done being pissed at you, man. If it wasn’t for you, none of this would be happening.”

  Fisher snorts. “If it wasn’t for me and Harrington here, you and Krish wouldn’t be getting a chance at another life.”

  “Whatever.”

  This is an argument I don’t see ending anytime soon, so I turn away and head to my car. I need to talk to Wilson and put the plan in motion, so everything will be ready when Roberto steps foot in Blue Tango on Saturday. I feel almost giddy. We’re one step closer to nailing Stamos, and maybe we can finally find out what’s supposed to go down on January 21.

  I TAKE VINCENT’S advise about letting my heart guide me in regards to Harrington. So the next morning, I pull on my favorite sweats and head out to the place I know I’m most likely to see him—the river.

  And now, here I am. Sweating bullets and waiting. It’s been an hour and still no Harrington. Maybe he lied when he said he’d been coming here every day?

  I pick up a rock and throw it, and for the first time since forever, it sinks.

  “Well, it’s good to know that you can be like the rest of us commoners.”

  “Holy crap.” I swing around, my hand to my chest. “You scared the crap of me, Harry.”

  He smiles, and it’s that sexy smirk that sends a shiver up my spine. He runs his hand through his ever growing hair, then shoves it into his pants pocket as he walks toward me, kicking at the rocks with each step.

  “So,” he says. “You’re here. At our spot.”

  I press my lips together and look around. “Yeah.”

  He chuckles. “Were you here looking for me, by chance?”

  I walk toward him, feeling a little shy. “Maybe. Though, to be fair, it was my spot before you started stalking it, so . . .” I shove a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

  “Jess.” His voice is smooth, controlled, and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s not buying it. He knows I came looking for him.

  I stop before him and look up. We’re close now. Super, super close.

  “Harry . . .” I lick my lips.

  “Yes?”

  “I’ve been thinking about what you told me,” I say, studying his eyes. “A-and I thought, well, if you’re interested, that is, I thought that . . .” I take a deep breath. “I’d like to know more about you.”

  His eyes widen slightly, but the surprise disappears just as quickly. He grins, wide.
<
br />   “What do you want to know?”

  Heat assaults my face. “Um . . .” I laugh nervously. Before all of this, I had a huge list of questions I wanted to ask. But now that I’m here and he agreed so quickly, I’m a little all over the place.

  I sit on the pebbled bed of the riverbank, buying myself some time to sort out my thoughts.

  He sits next to me, his hands behind him, his legs stretched out. He looks over at me expectantly, waiting for me to ask him something.

  “I guess I just want to know more of your story. The beginning, the end, the middle.” I shrug. “Whatever you want me to know. But be honest, okay?”

  He sighs and nods. After a pause, he says, “Well, unsurprisingly I suppose, I was one of those guys who got into a fight every chance he had growing up. I was young and reckless and wanted to prove to the guys in high school that I wasn’t too young to be a freshman, so I had sex with a senior when I was thirteen.” He looks at me and gives me a sad smile. “I drank more than I could keep down and experimented with drugs. And my dad didn’t care. He gave up on me. My brother tried to take care of me, but he was knee-deep in med school by then, so there was only so much he could do. I don’t know how I got through high school without getting expelled. I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I’m flawed, Jess. I might be easy on the eyes, but I have scars that run deep, flaws of my own making that I’m not sure I’ll ever fix. ”

  Whoa. Okay. When I asked him to tell me about himself, this was definitely not what I expected. But at least he’s being honest, truly honest with me, as promised. I press my lips together and wait for him to continue, nudging a particularly large rock with my toe. When he doesn’t say anything more, I glance up at him. He’s staring off across the river, his expression distant and sad. Unguarded.

  “How many brothers do you have? I mean, I know you have at least two, Heath and the one who tried to take care of you . . . the doctor . . .”

  He looks at me, surprised. “Yeah. Wait, how did you know about Heath? Do you know him?”

  “I know of him. My best friend Vincent met him at Cranbrook a couple years back. He went out with Ace once, before she got together with Heath. I swear, I thought they’d hit it off. They were super cute together, and Vincent talked about her all the time.”

  I look to the side and see a sort of funny look on Harrington’s face. I’m not sure if he’s unsettled by our connection or jealous of something. Or if it’s something else entirely.

  I ignore him and continue. “She’s super sweet. I was bummed when I found out he ended things with her that same night.” I remember how broken Vincent was when he came home after dropping Ace off. He’s never talked about another girl the way he did her.

  “What a small world.”

  “So, you’re from Pine Grove too then,” I say.

  He nods. “Born and raised.”

  I snap my fingers. “What’s your favorite burger place?”

  He raises an eyebrow.

  “Just answer. This could make or break our relationship.”

  He laughs. “Bob’s Burgers.”

  “Shut up.”

  “No, really.”

  I’m grinning, but my smile’s wider on the inside. Seriously. Maybe there’s something to Vincent’s theory, after all. If I do give Harrington a chance, maybe I’ll find that there is something more between us.

  “How did you end up in the FBI? Your family?”

  He chuckles softly. “Actually, no. No one in my family knows.”

  “Oh.” I’m confused.

  “If my dad had his way, I’d be a lawyer for some big ass company in New York by now.”

  “So then, what happened?”

  “Fisher.” He laughs. “Fisher wanted to try out for the FBI, and he wanted me to apply with him. I mostly just did it for fun, but we both got in. Hell, we even graduated at the top of the class. But anyway, long story short, I didn’t tell my family because I couldn’t. My dad, well, he’s a little bit of a control freak. He’s always had our futures mapped out for us. I didn’t want to tell him that I’d deviated from his plan, and I didn’t want to put my brothers in a hard spot by making them lie for me. Unlike me, who’s challenged him every step of the way, they’ve only stepped out of line once or twice. Hudson when he married my sister-in-law, Blake, and Heath, well, Heath took a year off from Harvard to take Ace on her dream road-trip around the U.S. . . .”

  Time passes quickly after that. We talk for an hour or two, I don’t know. He answers every one of my questions, including how he got involved with Stamos, how it was initially to try and get Fisher out, and how that turned into an official assignment. In turn, he asks me about my life, my passions, if I’ve always known I wanted to be a bartender.

  I tell him my dream of being a professional drummer and how I’m part of a band. I tell him about the gig I’ll be performing in, in Miami. I tell him the important roll that Vincent holds in my life and about my relationship with Cat. I even tell him about my past, how my mom died and my worthless step-mom did nothing to stop the parade of abuse I received from her lovers, even when it landed me in the ER with a stab wound. I bare my soul to him in a way I’ve never done with anyone, except Vincent, and he seems genuinely interested in everything I have to say.

  Before either of us knows it, the bright sky has turned into brilliant reds and pinks streaking across the horizon.

  Harrington takes my hand in his and I look at our linked fingers.

  “Do you ever wonder why we didn’t meet before . . . why we didn’t cross paths until now?” Harrington asks.

  I look at his mouth, then his eyes, feeling my pulse quicken. I shake my head. Because I hadn’t.

  He leans closer, “Why do you think fate never brought us together?”

  I swallow. “You believe in fate?”

  His eyes drop to my mouth as he leans even closer. “Yes, I do.”

  His hand is splayed across my thigh and I’ve angled my body toward him, my right knee touching his left. Our bodies gravitate toward each other, pulled ever closer. I don’t know who moves faster as our mouths collide. Him or me. He pulls me into his lap and I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him, really kissing him. His hands squeeze my waist almost painfully, but I don’t want him to stop. He bites into my lower lip and I think I whimper.

  “Jess . . .” he whispers between our kisses.

  I can’t help myself. I want to feel the warmth of his skin against mine, so I move my hands to the hem of his shirt and sneak them underneath the fabric. He moans in approval at that contact and pushes his tongue into my mouth.

  Finally, after what feels like forever, we pull back, our foreheads still pressing against each other. Our breathing is hard and heavy between us.

  “I’ve dreamt of that for so long,” he says.

  “Did it live up to your imagination?”

  “No.” He shoves his hand into my hair and presses his mouth to mine softly. “The real thing is so much better. Seriously, there’s no comparison, sweetheart.”

  That makes me smile. Like really wide. “If I say the same, will your ego grow as big as a mountain?”

  “I’m not making any promises, but I’m pretty sure it’s already maxed out in size.”

  “What?”

  He moves his hips, and I feel something poking me by my thigh. I giggle. “That isn’t your keys, is it?”

  He’s grinning. “Nope. Definitely not keys.”

  I pull back, moving off his lap as my body flushes with heat. Clearing my throat, I look away, feeling my face grow hotter at the way Harrington’s looking at me.

  Just then, my stomach rumbles so loud it almost sounds like an echo. Harrington laughs and gets to his feet. “How about we get you something to eat?”

  “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”

  “ALL RIGHT, THAT’S a wrap, guys,” Tom calls, shutting his laptop with a slap. “Good job, everyone.”

  The guys holler in response, high-fiving each other. I’m just happy
I didn’t screw anything up today. For the first time in a long time, I feel confident that our show is going to kick ass.

  It’s been hard work, and I know it’ll continue to be a hard labor of love until the gig in three weeks. But even with all the practice, I still feel like something is missing. I just don’t know what though. Maybe I just need more sleep.

  “Just a few more practices and you’ll all get a day off,” Tom reminds us, coming over to stand just outside the space defined by our equipment, watching as the guys put their instruments away. “Especially you, Jessica. You look like a walking corpse.”

  Jarod approaches me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and tugging me to his side as I stand. Tom frowns.

  “I don’t know, Tom. I think Jess looks amazing,” Jarod says, squeezing my shoulders.

  “Jessica,” I correct. Again. I step out from under Jarod’s possessive arm and place my drum sticks over the center drum as Tom comes over to join us.

  “Are you sure you can’t take more time off?” he asks me, angling himself so that he almost block Jarod, effectively cutting him out of the conversation. Thankfully, Jarod gets the hint and turns away, just as Joel calls him to help pack up.

  “I can’t,” I reply to Tom. “Not if I want to eat and have a roof over my head. I need my job.”

  He nods. The hostile Tom I met when I initially joined the band has slowly dissipated. Now, when he looks at me, all I see is concern. “I understand,” he says. “We need to figure out how to get in more hours of practice for you and not kill you at the same time. I’ll work something out. When you get your day off though, make sure you take it off. Okay?”

  I salute him. “Yes, boss.”

  He laughs. “I wish the other jacks would listen to my advice as quickly as you do.”

  “If we did, your job would be too easy,” Jarod calls, laughing.

  “Okay, well, if you don’t need me any more right now, I’m going to call it a day. Cat said she was going to pick me up before work tonight, so I better get going. Thanks, Tom,” I say as I pick up my stuff and head toward the door.