by Cynthia Eden
“You’d be able to get access, too,” Harper said. “I’m disappointed.”
Charity’s head turned toward her. “Disappointed? Why?”
“Because I didn’t want you to be the perp.”
Charity laughed. “I’m not. How many times do I have to tell you that?” She lifted her hand, revealing a Mayan statue. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”
Harper barely glanced at the statue. “What else is in the crate?”
“This statue is worth fifty thousand dollars.” Charity peered down at it. “So gorgeous.”
Harper eased closer to her.
“You never answered my question, you know,” Charity said without looking up.
“Which question was that?”
“When you were taken, were you scared?”
Harper’s fingers slipped inside her purse. Curled around the gun that waited inside. “Yes.”
The overhead lights flickered.
Charity’s head snapped back. “That’s strange.”
“Is it?”
There was a scratching sound. Like claws against wood. Charity bumped into Harper as they both turned to look at a tall, Egyptian sarcophagus.
“Do you have rats?” Harper asked softly.
“No. No way are there rats in here.” Charity’s fingers had gone so tight around the statue that her knuckles were white.
The scratching continued. Got louder. A thumping followed the scratching.
The lights flickered again.
The front of the sarcophagus flew open, and someone in black—black clothes, black ski mask—leapt out. A knife gleamed in the assailant’s gloved hand. Charity screamed and swung out with the statue. It shattered when it hit the assailant’s outstretched arm.
The knife clattered to the floor. The attacker shoved Charity out of the way and scrambled for the fallen knife.
Charity started screaming again. Over and over. The lights were flickering once more. Harper raised her gun. Took aim. “Drop it,” she ordered.
The attacker lunged for her.
Harper fired.
Chapter Sixteen
He found her because of the gunshot. Harper hadn’t been in Charity’s office, and he’d been searching for her. The woman wouldn’t answer her phone! But he headed to the ground floor, he heard the gunshot, and when he raced down to the end of the narrow hallway and into the room that waited…
Harper stood over a figure in black. The figure was hunched on the floor, holding her shoulder, and cursing.
“What did you think would happen?” Harper snapped down at the injured person. “When you came at me with a knife, did you think I was just going to stand there and let you stab me? I told you to drop the weapon. If you’d listened, you wouldn’t be bleeding all over the floor right now.”
She was okay. His breath heaved in and out. Harper was safe. Alive.
Charity ran toward him. Her cheeks were flushed a bright red. “She jumped out of the sarcophagus!”
He frowned at her. He’d been ninety-five percent sure Charity was the perp.
“The lights started flickering.” Charity was breathless. “She came out. I hit her with a statue—it was fake, Harper, did you notice that?” Her head swiveled around so she was looking at Harper. “It’s plaster or something.” Her focus swung back to Roman. “Anyway, she was running for Harper, but Harper shot her!”
His gaze flew back to Harper. Harper reached down and yanked the ski mask off the still cursing perp.
Blonde hair immediately tumbled onto the woman’s shoulders. She glared up at Harper.
“I know you,” Harper said slowly. A faint line appeared between her brows as she studied the bleeding woman. “You’re one of the interns. I saw your picture when I was doing research for the ruby exhibit.”
The blonde cried, “He’s locked up because of you! You did this! Tomas and I should have been on our way to Mexico, but you screwed everything up! And you shot me!”
Harper kept her weapon aimed at the woman, but she glanced back at Roman. “Looks like we found his accomplice.”
“I told you,” Charity huffed. “I’m not a thief.”
***
“Tomas was sleeping with the intern.” Antony poured himself a drink. “That seems about right.”
They were back at Roman’s place. The intern—Francesca Wallace—had been taken into custody. Unlike Tomas, she wasn’t staying quiet. She was telling her story to anyone who would listen. Loudly telling it.
Roman had listened. And just gotten more pissed off.
Francesca and Tomas had planned to run away together. When Tomas had gotten taken down, Francesca had been desperate. So desperate that she’d broken into the storage room with the intent to make off with some of the museum’s older pieces. But, according to Francesca, she’d been interrupted by Charity and Harper.
Then she’d gotten her ass shot.
“She’s not the one we’re after,” Roman said as he stared into the fire. Harper was seated on the couch behind him. Quiet. She’d been quiet all evening. Very unlike her.
“Um, she confessed to being Tomas’s partner,” Antony pointed out.
Antony. Roman was still pissed as hell at him.
“That means she is guilty and belongs in jail,” Antony continued. “And I tracked the Dark Web activity to Tomas’s system. Guy thought he was encrypted and protected, but no one can block me. He was making deals left and right on there.”
“But he wasn’t the one who arranged my kidnapping,” Harper noted softly.
Finally. Roman spun toward her. He didn’t like silence from Harper. He needed her talking. He needed her—hell, he just needed her. He’d been waiting desperately for Harper to break her silence and speak.
“I’m still working on that aspect.” Antony’s fake beard was gone. He’d ditched his ball cap and battered jeans. He was back in khakis. A black sweater. Wearing his glasses. “As well as the, uh, hit on you, Harper. You know, the whole taking Roman’s heart thing.”
Her gaze slid to Roman. “His heart. Right.”
Roman’s heartbeat seemed to pound far too fast.
Her stare flickered toward Antony. “Thanks so much,” she said drily. “Glad we’re looking into that. I’d hate for us to be ignoring it.”
Antony winced. “No one has accepted the job, if that makes you feel better. And it disappeared an hour ago. That should mean it was canceled.”
Bullshit. Roman thought it meant that the job had been taken.
Harper’s lips pursed. “Is it like a help wanted ad or something? You post what you need and stuff gets done? Stuff like, oh, murder and kidnapping?”
“It’s not a billboard. Or a newspaper. You’re talking going deep and dark. Into places that most people would never know existed. The Feds do their best to monitor the Dark Web. So do a dozen or so cyber units that normal folks don’t even realize are working for Uncle Sam. But this shit is insidious. The people running things are good at what they do.”
“Better than you?” Harper questioned quietly.
“No.” His shoulders straightened. “No one is better than me. That’s just insulting.”
“Good to know,” she murmured.
“That’s why I will get them. I know my shit. I know—” He broke off because his phone was ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket. Frowned at the screen. “Sorry. I have to take this.” He paced toward the door. His finger swiped over the screen. “Ella, what’s happened?” Concern sharpened his voice.
Roman’s gaze dipped to Harper. She’d curled her legs under her body as she sat on the couch. She looked small. Delicate. He found himself being pulled closer to her.
“I—what?” Antony raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not hurt. No, no, you absolutely do not need to fly down here. Wait. You’re on the company jet? Are you shitting me right now?” He spun back toward Roman.
Roman cocked his head as he studied Antony.
“I’m fine.” Antony sounded far from fine, and he was double-t
iming his pacing. “I’m looking at a facility down here because you know I want a second factory and one just outside of Atlanta will be prime for me.” A pause. “Yes. It was an accident. No, I wasn’t the target. I don’t know how that video got online.”
What video?
“I’m your boss,” Antony growled. “I get that you are my head of security, but I’m safe. I don’t need you flying down to—” He broke off and lowered the phone. He frowned at it. “She hung up on me.”
“She?” Harper prompted.
He kept staring at the phone. “My head of security. She’s flipping out because there’s some clip of the limo explosion circulating on social media.” His lips thinned. “Dex is usually better at getting shit like that taken down.”
“Dex and his limitless powers.” Harper didn’t look or sound impressed.
“Apparently, in the clip, I’m running toward the limo. Now Ella is upset because she thinks I was the target of the bombing.” He tightened his hold on the phone. “She’s on my jet. On her way down here. How the hell am I supposed to do tech work for you two when Ella is here? She doesn’t know a damn thing about what I do with Dex.”
“Maybe you should tell her.” Harper unwound her legs and rose. “Secrets aren’t ever a good thing.”
Antony’s gaze cut to Roman, then went back to Harper. “Oh?”
“If she’s your head of security, then aren’t you making her job about a million times harder by not telling her that you’re some super spy? She thinks she’s looking after you—”
“She’s supposed to look after the company,” he corrected. “You know, trade secrets and what not.”
“From what I’ve read, you are the company. You and your partner, Sebastian. If someone takes you, then they get all of your gaming technology. She doesn’t know you’re risking yourself constantly playing spy.”
Antony shoved the phone into his pocket. “I’m not playing at anything.”
“Wrong word choice.” Harper rolled back her shoulders. “But you do agree that you are making things harder on her. How can she protect you—sorry, the company—if she doesn’t have all the facts?”
“She can’t know the facts.” Antony was adamant. “I’m successful at what I do for Dex because only a select number of people know the depths of my true involvement. If word gets out…” He exhaled. “Then I won’t be able to get the job done.”
“You don’t trust her.” Harper nodded. “I see. Perhaps you should have said that at the beginning. But, if you don’t trust her, why on earth would you make the woman your head of security?”
“I do trust her!” The words blasted from him.
“No, you don’t.” What could have been pity flashed in her eyes. “Because when you truly trust someone, you give them all your secrets.” Her stare slid to Roman. Lingered.
His stomach knotted. He had too many secrets. He couldn’t give them to her. If he did—
“Roman,” Harper said and there was a wealth of emotion in his name. “We need to talk. Alone.”
Did she know? That was his first thought. Had she somehow learned the truth? He realized he wasn’t even breathing. Shit. What was wrong with him? Of course, she didn’t know.
Antony was making a beeline for the door. “I’ve got damage control of my own to do.” He grabbed the doorknob. Hauled the door open. Stopped. His head turned toward Harper. “Have you ever considered that some folks keep secrets because they want to protect the people who matter to them? Sometimes, secrets hurt people. They destroy. I think I can see that truth a lot better now.” His stare drifted to Roman. “Good luck,” he mouthed.
Then he was gone.
Roman headed toward the bar. “Want a drink?”
“No.”
He reached for a bottle of whiskey. Stared at the amber liquid. “Then what do you want?”
“I want to tell you my secret.”
His hold tightened on the bottle. “You tell me yours, then I’ll tell you mine? That how this will work?”
“Something like that.”
He put the bottle back down. “I can’t tell you everything.” Antony had been right. Secrets hurt people. They destroyed. The last thing Roman ever wanted was to destroy Harper.
“You don’t have to tell me everything. Just the important parts. I’ll tell you my important parts.”
Slowly, he turned toward her.
“Ready for the biggest secret I have?”
“Baby?” No, no, he wasn’t ready.
She took a fast step toward him. “I’m falling in love with you.”
Roman blinked. Shook his head. He was sure that he’d misheard. There was no way—no way in the world—that Harper had just told him—
She took several more quick steps and stopped in front of him. “I am falling in love with you,” she said clearly. “The more time we spend together, the stronger my feelings grow. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect you.”
“Harper…”
“I don’t get attached to people.” Her shoulders straightened. “I even have a little rule I follow. It’s… ‘Get attached to things, not people.’ Because people leave you. They abandon you. They die. They disappear when you need them the most, and you’re left alone.”
His hand lifted toward her cheek. His knuckles slid over her silken skin. “You should never be alone.”
“When I’m with you, I break my rule. I got attached to you without even trying, and I feel like you and I—we’re stronger when we’re together. I feel like…Roman, I think we’re something special. I think we could be amazing. I don’t want to hold back with you any longer. I want to tell you how I feel. I don’t want to be afraid that I’ll lose you. I want to enjoy what we have.” A soft release of her breath. “I want you to know…that I love you.”
The drumming of his heartbeat was even louder. All he wanted—fuck, it was to say the words back to her. To tell Harper that…
God, yes, I love you, too.
Because he did. He’d been falling for her from the very beginning. Helplessly, completely. Her smile had bewitched him. Her wit freaking enchanted him. He would never, ever forget how glorious she’d looked when she’d launched herself into the air and tackled Tomas at the museum. She was a fighter. A warrior.
I want her. I want to stay with her. I want to live with her. Have kids with her. Have—
No. No. “I am a selfish bastard.”
Her delicate brows climbed. “That’s…not exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”
“It’s who I am.” Every instinct he had demanded that he grab Harper. Hold her tight. Never let go. She didn’t need to know the truth. She was saying she loved him. He could keep his worst secret to his dying day, and she didn’t need to know. He could make her happy. He was sure of it. He could…
His hand slid from her cheek.
“Is this about that Heather woman?” Harper’s voice trembled. “I didn’t want to push you about her. I know things were bad, but I thought you’d tell me when you—”
He knew she’d overheard plenty about Heather. “I was never romantically involved with Heather Madding. She was my bodyguard.”
“You’re more than capable of guarding yourself,” Harper pointed out.
“In some situations, it paid to have extra eyes. We often used the cover of being a couple. It provided us with an additional level of security. But what I didn’t realize was that she had developed feelings for me. Heather had convinced herself that she loved me.”
Harper took a slow step back. “Convinced herself? You don’t think she actually did love you?”
I don’t think there is a whole fucking lot to love. “I didn’t return her feelings. She didn’t like that. Got angry and sold me out. In the end, she died. I lived.” His voice sounded too clipped. Too cold.
Harper’s hand rose and pressed to his chest. “I would never do that to you, Roman. We are partners. I have your back. You have mine. Whether you love me or not, it doesn’t change the fact that I would d
o anything to protect you. How you feel doesn’t change what I—”
“I can change everything.” The words just poured out. As soon as they did, Roman knew there would be no stopping.
I am a selfish bastard.
Those words had been true.
But with Harper, for Harper…
This one time, he wouldn’t be. He wouldn’t lie. He wouldn’t keep the truth from her. He’d tell her everything because Harper deserved everything.
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You know my real name isn’t Roman Smith.”
A glint of humor lit her eyes. “Of course, Roman, that’s been obvious from day one.”
“My last name is Valentino. My father was Gideon Valentino.”
The humor died.
“Recognize the name?” Her hand was still on his chest. It seemed to brand him. “Most people have at least heard of him. Hard not to have picked up on one or two news stories about the prick.”
“I’ve heard of him.” Soft.
“He wasn’t exactly a kind man.”
“I think that’s an understatement.” She moved closer.
Closer? Why? “What are you doing?” he rumbled.
She wrapped her arms around him. “Hugging you.”
He was stiff and hard in her embrace. “Why?” Don’t, baby, don’t. Don’t touch me. I don’t deserve you.
“Because I can’t imagine what life must have been like for you when you were younger. Because I am so very sorry for the pain you have known, and I wish I could make things better for you.”
His arms ached because they wanted to rise and wrap around her. He wanted to hold her so badly. Never, ever let go. And his arms did start to rise. The temptation was too great—
Selfish bastard. Give her more. Tell her—“He killed your father.”
At first, she didn’t move. Just kept right on holding Roman. He wondered if he’d even managed to say the words out loud. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe they had only been spoken in his mind, and if that was the case—
Her head lifted. She stared at him with wide, confused eyes. “What?”
“My father…killed yours.” Why was his voice so cold? Why was he cold? Ice seemed to encase his entire body. Every single inch. Except where she touched him.