by Penny McCall
Harmony nodded, thinking that was a really nice fantasy for someone like Annie, but Harmony had a hard time accepting today for what it was when it meant Richard was still a hostage and she couldn’t do anything about it. She forced herself to sit there a few more minutes, but her stomach wasn’t going to let her put anything else into it.
Annie seemed to understand. She took the tray and left with nothing more than a parting smile. Harmony eased out of the chair and folded the hem of the shirt up until it was around her waist, tying the ends into a knot. She slipped her feet into her athletic shoes, not bothering to tie them, took a deep breath, and opened the RV door, blinking in the bright sunlight.
She was looking for Cole. She saw Connor Larkin first. He sat under the overhang of a shedlike structure at the far end of the RV camp. As Harmony got closer, she noticed the banked fire and realized it must be a portable forge.
“When you take a cover, you really get into it,” she said as she came up beside him, taking a step back when the heat of the fire hit her in the face.
Conn swung around, holding out his arms.
Harmony held up her hands to ward him off. “Consider yourself hugged.”
“Sorry, Harmony, I forgot,” he said, urging her to sit on the stool he’d just vacated.
She did, studying the armorlike whatchamacallit on the workbench.
“It’s a fish,” he explained, “created out of the same kind of overlapping metal plates I’d use to make a gauntlet. The plates are smaller and shaped to look like scales, but it’s the same mechanics used to make flexible plate armor.”
“You could probably sell that.”
“I do. Have to keep up the cover, right?”
She smiled because he expected it. “What about me and Cole? What have you told everyone?”
“Nothing. The Blisses are always taking in strays.”
“No one is asking? I mean, Annie seems like the kind of person who would feed and house a complete stranger, even one who was clearly in some kind of trouble. But everyone else?”
“There are two kinds of people who participate in Renaissance fairs,” Conn said. “The ones who have established businesses and use the fairs for an extra boost, and the ones who subsist on their earnings, traveling from fair to fair.”
“These are the travelers, I take it.”
“Some of them just prefer the lifestyle, like Annie and Nelson, her husband. But a lot of these people are on the fringe of society.”
“Criminals?”
“Not the kind who’d hurt someone,” Conn said quickly, “and yeah, I know I’m here for a reason, but it’s nothing violent. These people look out for each other, and anyone dangerous is sent packing pretty quickly.”
“What about us?” Harmony asked. “How do they know we’re not dangerous?”
“I vouched for you. But while we’re on the subject, what the hell are you doing?”
Harmony looked away. “Someone had to go after him, Conn.”
“You know the odds, Harmony. They’re going to kill him as soon as you give them what they want.”
She smiled grimly. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem. At least not my problem.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think I should turn this back to Mike and let him decide what to do. I’m not capable—”
“Bullshit.”
That brought her face up, her eyes meeting his.
“You started this,” Conn said, “you finish it.”
“But . . . You just said . . .”
“I know what I said. Now think it through. Why did you take these bastards on? And don’t tell me it was all about Richard.”
“He’s the important part,” she hedged.
“And?”
“And I wanted to prove something to Mike.”
“What’s it going to prove if you quit the minute it gets rough?” Conn gave her exactly two seconds to think about it before he said, “Let’s try this again. They’re going to kill Swendahl as soon as you give them what they want.”
Harmony took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They’re not getting anything unless Richard is alive and they’re turning him over to me,” she said, resisting the temptation to make it into a question. Sure, her confidence had been shaken, deeply, but it hadn’t been destroyed. “And then I’m going to keep the money, too.”
Conn took off his glove, hunkering down in front of her and brushing a finger across the bruise on her check. “They’ve already tried to kill you once.”
She caught his hand and held it between both of her own. “I’m still alive, aren’t I? It’s a miracle, and it’s probably not the last one I’ll need, but one day at a time, right?”
“You’re trusting your life to an ex-con, and you’re going up against pros,” Conn said by way of agreement.
“That’s the job. You make do with what you have.” She smiled at him. “Unless you want to ditch the hippies and come with me.”
He grinned back. “Just between you and me, these people are hippies and kooks.”
“And yet I detect a note of fondness in your voice.”
He shrugged. “They’re endearing kooks.”
“And criminals, or you wouldn’t be here.”
“Yep. Nice to know I can count on human nature to keep me employed.”
“True,” Harmony said. Alive was a different story.
chapter 22
IF COLE HADN’T BEEN ABLE TO PUT HIS FINGER ON why he disliked Connor Larkin, the way he was touching Harm’s face was reason enough. Larkin lifted one of her feet to his thigh and tied her shoe, then did the same with the other one. He cared about her, and even though he’d said it was a brotherly kind of caring, Cole was burning.
Larkin leaned over and said something to her. She stiffened, turned to peruse the area, and her eyes landed on Cole. She was burning, too, he realized. And not in a good way.
She shot to her feet, then took a few seconds—visibly in pain—before she brushed off Larkin’s hands and made a beeline for Cole. She stopped a few feet away, her hand out. “Keys,” she said shortly.
“No.”
“This is my operation.”
“Not anymore.”
She looked over at Larkin, who was leaning against his workbench, arms crossed, watching them and not getting in the middle.
“I took your phones, too, both of them, and your laptop.”
She stared at him a second, mouth open, before she stalked into Sal and Larry’s RV, managing to put anger into her walk and favor her side at the same time. By the time Cole joined her, she’d dumped everything she owned out on the tiny galley table, and she was staring blankly at the empty duffel.
“You took the money, too.”
“You’re staying put,” he said. Not to mention it was his money.
“You can’t hold me prisoner.”
“Doesn’t feel so good when it’s you, does it?”
“The circumstances are different,” she said.
“Sure, the circumstances are what matters.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
“We have plenty of time.”
She fisted her hands around the duffel, and Cole could see her struggling for control. “Conn told me you called the kidnappers,” she said calmly enough to impress him.
“They called your phone, actually. Last night, after you passed out . . .”
Her eyes narrowed.
“After you fell asleep in the car.”
“And?”
“I told the guy on the phone I wasn’t taking their offer, and if we see Boris and Natasha again, I walk for good. There were the usual threats, and I explained that if Richard isn’t okay and able to move when we get there, the deal is off.”
Harmony’s gaze snapped to his. “When we get there?”
“He knew we were coming, Harm. He tried to claim they weren’t in Los Angeles, but—”
“Damn it.” She paced a few steps awa
y, then back.
“You can call in the cavalry now,” he said, on the defensive and getting pissed off about it. He’d done a good thing and she acted like he’d sold her out. “Call your boss.”
“And where are you going to be?”
“I guess I didn’t consider that. I was thinking of you.”
“Because you don’t believe we can do this—that I can do this.”
“You didn’t believe it either an hour ago.”
“I talked to Conn—”
“You talked to Conn, and that changes everything.”
“He reminded me why I started this, and it made me think about what would happen if I didn’t finish it.”
“Well, hurray for Conn.” It was Cole’s turn to pace away and back, work off a little of whatever was jumping around inside him. “I’m glad he’s around to keep you on track.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harmony wanted to know, studying his face.
“Nothing,” Cole shot back, not meeting her eyes. “You’ve decided you want to finish this thing. You should get some rest and try to heal up.”
“Well, that was patronizing. Not like that’s a new attitude, considering.”
“Maybe I should call Larkin over here. You listen to him.”
She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, and he felt childish. It stung, more than taking second seat to a muscle-bound FBI agent. “At least we have a couple of days to figure out how to handle this.”
“Thanks to you? You make a few threats and you think the kidnappers are going to sit there waiting for us like toddlers in a time-out?” She huffed out a breath. “This isn’t kindergarten, Barney.”
“Is that where you think I spent the last eight years? The FBI doesn’t screw around, even when they’re wrong. Why do you think I want you to bring them in?”
“They’ve already made their call on this.”
“But now that you’re in danger—”
“Because I didn’t follow protocol. Mike isn’t a miracle worker. He has to get approval for an operation like this, and he won’t get it.”
“If you ask him—”
“If I ask him, he’ll send in agents, but it’ll cost him his career. And don’t even think about Connor. No matter how it appears, he’s on a job.”
Cole scrubbed a hand over his face. “I guess it’s still just you and me.”
“And you’re having doubts.”
“I was looking for a way to take some of the risk out of this. For both of us.”
Harmony shook her head. “This is a chess game, Cole. You made our move when you called and threatened them, but they’re not going to take it lying down. They’re already planning their next move.”
“They don’t know where we are, so we have some time.”
“You’re wrong. They’re not going to wait for us to surface again. If we leave now, we might be able to surprise them.”
“Fine, where are we going?”
“LA.”
“Where in LA?”
“What’s with all the questions? No, never mind. If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will.”
“Go ahead,” Cole said, shrugging. “I’m sure someone will lend you a phone, but don’t call Mike.”
She stopped at the door, turning back. “Two minutes ago you wanted me to call him.”
“To send in agents. He won’t help you put yourself in danger.”
“Now you’re an authority on my boss?”
“I don’t have to be. He told me if anything happened to you, he’d make sure I regretted it.”
“You’re not talking about the conversation last night, are you?”
“I’m talking about the first time we spoke. On the boat. I keep you safe or else, that’s what he said.”
She went still, her expression carefully blank. But there was something to the way she seemed to draw into herself, almost as if she were hurt, although Cole couldn’t fathom why.
“Is that why you’re still helping me?” she asked almost too calmly.
The easy answer would have been yes. It would be better for her to think he’d stuck with her despite everything, and that he’d turned down the deal the Russians had offered him, because he was afraid of FBI retaliation. Best not to give her any reason to romanticize their relationship.
What he said was, “No.”
“Then why are you still helping me?”
“Larkin told me about your family,” he said, which clearly wasn’t any of the responses she’d expected.
“So it’s fear and pity.”
“I understand your motivation.”
Harmony shifted sideways, and when the physical evasion wasn’t enough, she said, “How could you possibly understand?”
“My parents aren’t dead, but I lost them when I went to jail.” He thought back, remembering how he’d burned to get away from that tiny three-bedroom tract house where he’d grown up. Now he’d give his right arm to go back there and start over. He’d make better choices this time, or at least thank his parents for the sacrifices they’d made to give him a first-class education on a blue-collar income. And he’d apologize for the heartache he’d caused them. “They live in a small town in Minnesota. Even if they could have afforded to make the trip East, I didn’t want them visiting me in that place. I’ve only seen them once in eight years, and that was bad. For all of us.”
Harmony could imagine how hard it must have been for him. She’d have given anything for a chance to see her parents again, but she couldn’t change history. She could, however, stop it from repeating itself. “If you won’t help me, I’ll have to find a way to get there on my own.”
She stepped out of the RV, shielding her eyes from the insanely bright sunshine. Sunglasses would have been nice, and she had a pair in her duffel, but Cole would probably hide those, too, if he thought they’d help her get out of there. She made a beeline for the nearest patch of shade instead, and found a family of RVers who clearly took their reenacting seriously. The dad wore a tunic and tights, the mom a wench dress that cinched her breasts up around her clavicle. Two little girls of indeterminate age, wearing tunics and the sparkly pink plastic sandals called jellies, played nearby.
The remains of their lunch covered the picnic table where the parents sat under a huge, spreading cottonwood. By the time it occurred to Harmony that she was staring at them like they were a zoo attraction, she realized they were staring right back.
“I’m sorry, it’s been a strange couple of days,” she said, not even realizing how true that was until she heard herself say it. Two days ago she’d been in charge of the quest to free Richard, now the reins had been taken out of her hands, and Cole was driving the wagon. Or rather Cole had parked the wagon, unhitched the horses, and stranded her in the midst of a band of traveling historical anachronisms.
“You’re Connor Larkin’s friend, right?” the woman said.
“Harmony.”
“Cindy Brewer.” She took the hand Harmony offered and shook it briskly. “This is my husband, Dan, and our daughters.”
Harmony felt a tug on her pant leg and looked down into the angelic face of a towheaded ragamuffin about five years old. “My name’s Corey,” she said with an endearing lisp.
Harmony smiled, really smiled, for the first time in what felt like forever. She stooped down to eye level and shook the little girl’s hand, saying with the proper amount of solemnity, “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Miss Corey Brewer, and your sister . . .”
“Jessie,” Corey said, pointing to her sister sulking next to her. “She hasta go to school today, but I done that already and I only hafta go in the morning ’cuz I’m five.” She held up a hand, checking to make sure the finger count matched, then reached out and touched one of Harmony’s blond curls. “You’re pretty.”
“Just between you and me,” Harmony said, “pretty is okay, but smart gets you everything.”
“Smart and hard work,” Cindy chimed in.
Jessie hopped off t
he picnic table bench and said to her sister, “I’m gonna have everything,” and raced off to join a group of kids sitting under an awning across the way, where two young women conducted a sort of group home school.
“I’m gonna get everything, too,” Corey said.
Her mother caught her before she could tag along after her sister, redirecting her toward her father instead. “Right now you’re getting a nap.”
“They’re adorable,” Harmony said to their mother.
“Spoken like a woman who only spent five minutes with them,” Cindy said, but she was smiling.
“You wouldn’t happen to have a cell phone I could borrow, would you?”
Cindy reached into the folds of her skirt and came out with a state-of-the-art iPhone. “We’re only selectively crazy.”
Harmony wished she could say the same, but she’d come to the conclusion that she’d gone completely around the bend. It didn’t help that Cole and Connor Larkin were standing by his forge, shoulder to shoulder, watching her like she was a lab rat. Nothing like a little rampant chauvinism to promote male bonding. Okay, that wasn’t really fair. They thought they were protecting her. But the end result was the same. She had an agenda; they were standing in the way. So she was going to find someone else to help her, just like she’d said.
“It’s about time you called,” Mike said when she got him on the line. “Larkin caught me up already, and I agree that it’s best for you to lay low for a couple days, heal up.”
So the testosterone brigade was closing ranks all around, Harmony thought bitterly. “What about the kidnappers?”
“Hackett has them by the short hairs. They won’t make any stupid moves with millions of dollars on the line.”
“So I’m just supposed to take the weekend off?”
“Either that or I’m pulling you in.”
“You can’t pull me in if I don’t work for you anymore.”
“That supposed to be a threat? If it is, it’s a damn poor one, especially if you think it will stop me.”
“I can’t just sit here and do nothing, Mike.”
“Swendahl will be okay.”
“It’s not about him,” Harmony said. “At least not entirely. It just feels . . . wrong to stay here.”