Fantastic. Davis hadn’t wasted a second before running off to tattle on him. Dick. “He said I pushed him? Completely overexaggerated.”
Harper gave him a quizzical look. He shrugged and brought the phone down. “I’m just gonna take this out on the balcony.”
A hint of a smile tugged at Harper’s lips and she nodded. “Tell Curt I said hi.”
“Right.” Sure, right after he tendered his resignation.
Galen stepped out onto the balcony and slid the door behind him. “Look, I don’t know what Davis told you—”
“How about that you threatened him, for starters.” Monroe’s tone made it clear he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “And that you took Harper out of her interview before Davis had released her.”
“Interview?” Galen damn near choked on the word. “It was a first-class interrogation, Curt. You should have heard the ridiculous bullshit he was throwing at her.”
“Which,” Monroe interrupted, “is his right as the agent in charge of the investigation.”
“It’s a load of crap and you know it. Harper had nothing to do with Ellis’s death.”
“Miss Allen,” Monroe stressed, “is a witness under our protection. That does not, however absolve her from any wrongdoing.” He sighed and added, “Look, Galen, I like her. She’s a sweet kid. And you know that I don’t believe she’s involved. But that’s not for us to say right now. Our job—
your
job—is to shadow her. Watch out for her. And make sure no one tries to take her out before Davis pulls his head out of his ass and decides to actually move on this investigation. Until then, you stay
out
of his way. Do not confront him, don’t antagonize him, and for the love of God don’t fucking lay a finger on him.”
“For the record, I didn’t shove him. I
crowded
him.” He couldn’t guarantee he’d stay out of Davis’s hair. Especially if he put too much pressure on Harper.
“Well then, don’t crowd the son of a bitch.”
Galen scowled. “Fine.”
“Peggy will be there in a few minutes to relieve you. I need you to come in and sign the complaint that Davis filed, and I want to go over a few non-related cases with you.”
Galen checked his watch. He still had seven hours on his shift. But arguing with Monroe wasn’t a good idea right now. Calling Peggy in to cover for him wasn’t going to do much to endear him to her, either. “I’ll head in to the office when she gets here.”
“Galen.” Monroe hesitated. Not a good sign. “Is there something going on between you and Ms. Allen? I don’t want to take you off this detail.”
“No, Curt.” This was why Galen needed to keep his eyes forward and mind focused. It would be bad for both of them if Galen was compromised, and he refused to put Harper through that sort of embarrassment. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“All right, then. See you in a half hour?”
“I’ll be there.”
Galen ended the call and leaned against the railing. He’d never been so torn between what he wanted and what he needed to do. What a completely fucked-up situation. Years spent building up his career. Weeks of SOG training and even more time to prove he was worthy of high-profile assignments. All undone by a snarky reporter with a thing for superheroes.
Would trying to balance his job with whatever this was building between him and Harper cause him to lose them both?
Chapter Fifteen
Is Landon still parked outside?
Harper smiled as she read Galen’s text message. Four days ago, he’d taken her out for the best apple fritter of her life. Yesterday, he’d surprised her by sending a bacon maple bar from Voodoo Donut over with Peggy, and today he’d called and offered to pick up a couple of books for her at Powell’s. He’d done a complete one-eighty from his initial hard-nosed U.S. deputy marshal routine, and unfortunately, it made the prospect of being with him every day harder and harder to bear. A little over two weeks had passed since they’d been thrown together in this crazy protector/protected relationship, and though she’d promised herself over and over that she would not get emotionally involved with him, the more time she spent with Galen, the harder that promise became to keep.
A smile curved Harper’s lips as she typed, Who is this? and hit SEND.
Did Galen ever sleep? She looked over at her clock: almost eleven thirty. He’d texted her every night since day one. Checking, and then rechecking to make sure the marshals on the night shift hadn’t abandoned their posts. As if.
Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious.
She responded, I’m sure he’s out there. It’s his job. Where else is he going to go?
Go check. Now.
It was almost too easy to rattle his chain sometimes. But really, what did Galen expect? Everyone she’d met with the Marshals Service so far had been top notch, professional, and serious about their jobs. No way would one of them fall asleep at their post or run off for donuts. Mmmmm . . . donuts. Harper could really go for an apple fritter right about now.
Did you check?
Jeez. Someone was impatient tonight. She rolled off her bed and walked over to the window. Parked on the street in front of her building was the obviously nondescript SUV that belonged to Deputy McCabe.
I think he’s down there, she typed. It’s sort of hard to tell with the bonfire and crowd of gunmen storming the building, though.
She waited for a response, but when none came, Harper worried that she’d gone a little too far. Kidding! Just kidding. He’s down there and everything’s nice and quiet. She doubted Deputy McCabe would appreciate having his ass torn into by one freaked-out Galen Kelly. Hopefully, he hadn’t called in the Marines or National Guard for backup yet.
That’s not funny.
Harper smiled and flopped back down on her bed. Not true. You just said I was hilarious. I don’t know what the big deal is. Peggy’s in the living room camped out on the couch and there’s another marshal down in the lobby. You need to learn to relax. The number of people watching over her was beginning to wear on Harper. Peggy spent almost every night in her apartment, and others had no choice but to sit all night positioned around her building. She knew it was for her safety, but honestly, it all felt like a huge waste of resources. No one had tried to mow her down with a machine gun yet.
I’ll relax when I’m dead.
Harper’s fingers hovered over her phone, her thumbs poised to type, though she had no idea how to respond. Up until a few days ago, Galen had shadowed her every move, his eyes tracking even the smallest movement. He was always hyper aware of his surroundings, and though they spent all of their time holed up in her condo, he never once let his guard down. Since her “interview” with the FBI, though, he’d been scarce, and she missed his constant presence.
Well, she typed, I don’t want you dying on my account.
Minutes ticked by as Harper waited for a response. She checked her cell, checked it again, and still no conversation bubble popped up to notify her that he’d texted back. Had she hit a nerve? Maybe dying on the job wasn’t something marshals joked about. After all, law enforcement wasn’t exactly the safest profession you could choose.
I’m good at my job. I don’t plan on dying any time soon. Concerned?
Harper leaned back against the pillows, brought her knees up to her chest and typed, You wish.
Hardly.
It was meant in jest, but the single word still bit into Harper’s chest with razor-sharp teeth and wouldn’t let go. That was the problem, wasn’t it? She wanted him to care. To remember. To show even a hint that he’d taken something away from the night they’d shared other than a great orgasm. Then again, if he couldn’t remember, maybe it hadn’t been so great after all. Now, that was a boost to Harper’s ego. Ugh.
Well, just between you and me, I don’t plan on dying any time soon, either. No use continuing on the path of self-pity. It was time to end tonight’s text-fest and get to bed.
Is Landon still out there?
Good Lord. Obsessive much? Mr. Control Freak needed to dial it down. Actually, I invited him over for a threesome with me and Peggy. He’s on his way up right now. Good night!
Let’s see how he responds to that one
. A smile curved her lips as she set the phone beside her on the pillow and crawled beneath the covers. The sheets were cold, her condo silent. And despite the fact that there was a marshal camped out on her sofa, the loneliness Harper felt seeped into her pores and chilled her blood. She felt so isolated, and it wasn’t simply being under house arrest. It was the thought of being so close to something she wanted and yet, still a million miles away. No matter how she forced herself to not think about that night with Galen, the memory of it burned through her like embers stoked by the wind.
Harper let her eyes drift shut. Her fingertips trailed a path down the column of her throat as she imagined his fingers on her skin. Across her collarbone and over the thin fabric of her tank top, she continued over the swell of her breast and brushed the tight point of one nipple. Her hips thrust forward as though no longer under her control and she went lower, past her belly button, to the elastic edge of her underwear.
A rush of warmth spread between her thighs as she recalled the wet heat of his tongue as it slid against her clit. The tremors that had shaken her body with each flick, sending her closer to abandon. She slipped her fingers beneath the fabric, seeking out that spot he’d teased so well. Her breasts tingled and grew heavy, and her nipples hardened when she imagined him rolling the peaks between his fingers, the barest sting to complement the pleasure.
The text message alert on her cell went off, but Harper ignored it. She didn’t want to abandon her fantasy for the cold, hard truth of her reality. She was in the past, back in her old apartment, the barest sliver of light from the street lamps casting a harsh shadow on the ridges of Galen’s body. Her fingers slid against her core and she imagined it was him touching her, bringing her close to release. Her own ragged breath was his, her fingers teasing the beaded pearl of her nipple, his. Eyes squeezed shut to block out reality; Harper continued to touch herself, her hips bucking into each stroke of her fingers.
Galen.
How she’d wanted his name on her lips that night at the moment she’d come.
Galen.
And, God, how she wanted him now. Just one night more with him.
Her body coiled tight, muscles taut, and Harper increased the pressure, her fingers sliding against her slippery flesh. His face loomed in her mind, as she imagined his body pumping into her, and she threw her head back against the pillow. “Galen.” Her voice was a ragged whisper as she came, the waves of pleasure cresting and ebbing like a breaker rolling into the shore. A sob welled up in her chest, the ache so deep and so painful that she didn’t know if she’d ever find anything to fill it up and make her whole. How much longer would she mourn the loss of something she’d never really had?
Tears stung at her eyes, but Harper willed them to stay right the hell where they were. No way would she shed a tear over him. No matter how much it hurt, she refused to cry. Her heavy breath was the only sound in the still bedroom, the traffic passing outside of her building nothing more than a low hum in the darkness. Her mind wandered as sleep began to take hold and she was only half aware of her phone ringing beside her. She let the call go to voice mail, but within a few seconds it started up again. One . . . two . . . three . . . On the fourth ring, Harper picked up, her voice already thick and tired. “Hello?”
“Harper,” a man’s voice said. “This is Deputy Landon McCabe with the U.S. Marshals Service. I was wondering if I could ask you to quit yanking Deputy Kelly’s chain for the remainder of the night. Because, frankly, if he has to drive down here to see if I’m still stationed in my Chevy and not, in fact, up in your apartment, I doubt either of us will enjoy the visit.”
“That’s asking a lot,” she responded with a yawn. “Yanking his chain is just too easy.” She paused. “Okay, it’s a little fun, too.”
“You’re my kind of people, Harper,” Landon said. “But seriously, cut it out.”
“I’m on my best behavior for the rest of the night. Promise.”
“Good night, Harper,” Landon said.
“’Night, Deputy McCabe,” she said and ended the call.
She opened her text screen to find an unread message from Galen: I rescind my earlier opinion. You’re not funny. Also, Deputy McCabe is getting reassigned in the morning.
A lazy smile tugged at Harper’s lips as she reread his words. Concern? Jealousy? It was stupid to hope, but those words, no matter how she might have misinterpreted them, made her feel a little less lonely. She fired off one last response to Galen: Gotcha! ;-) She was pretty sure there’d be payback, but she’d worry about that tomorrow.
“How’d you sleep?”
Galen scowled at Landon as he slid into the passenger seat of his rig, two coffees in hand. “You’re a dick.”
“If Monroe finds out you’re here, he’s gonna have your ass in a sling. And since you bugged the shit out of me last night, I might be inclined to let him know.”
True, Galen had been instructed to take a few days off from Harper’s protective detail, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stop by and check in. Which he had. Almost every day. He was still the deputy in charge, after all. “I’m just checking in. And I know you won’t tell Monroe I’m here because if you do, I might have to mention the strip club incident.”
Landon took one of the paper cups from Galen, pointedly ignoring his reference to a field trip they’d taken a few years back while looking for a stripper who’d blackmailed a congressman. “You know, I like Harper. Too bad you’re jerking her around.”
A twinge of guilt pulled at Galen’s chest. He was growing more and more conflicted over pretending not to remember her. And Landon didn’t miss an opportunity to rub salt in his open wounds. So, yeah, he was a dick.
“If I cop to having a previous . . .” The words died on Galen’s tongue. What was it that had happened between them? Relationship? Not really. Hook-up? No, that was too cheap for what happened that night. Jesus, talk about confusing. “If I admit that I know Harper outside of this case, Monroe will pull me off the detail.”
“Is this job worth what you might lose if you don’t cop to it?” Landon asked.
“There’s nothing to lose.” Galen didn’t bother trying to hide his disdainful tone. “She had a boyfriend, Landon. Hell, she might have one still. You know I don’t play those kinds of games.”
Landon fixed him with a dubious stare. “I haven’t seen a boyfriend. Have you?”
No. But that didn’t mean anything. No pictures of her and what’s his name—Clark? Carlisle?—in her apartment. No phone calls, either. “She could have asked him to keep his distance until the investigation is over. You know, looking out for her boy.”
“Whatever,” Landon scoffed. “Sounds to me like you’re making excuses.”
“If I tell Monroe that I knew her before the investigation, it compromises me.”
Landon rolled his eyes. “Which is just another way of saying the job means more to you than she does.”
Galen took a long pull from his coffee. Of course the situation was black and white to Landon; it wasn’t
his
situation. Yeah, the job did mean a lot to him. Aside from Michelle and Landon, the Marshals Service was the only family he had. Besides, no matter what he might feel for Harper—and he made no admissions—the fact remained that she’d cheated on her boyfriend with him. No cheating. His cardinal relationship rule. Broken. Inexcusable. “Sean Davis still has his sights set on her as suspect number one. If I’m not working this detail, no one’s looking out for Harper. I don’t have a choice.”
If Landon’s eyes bugged out of his head any further, he’d look like a cartoon character. “Are you fucking kidding me, dude? That hurts. One year as an SOG tool and you think all of your colleagues are completely incompetent?”
Galen pinched the bridge of his nose. The day had barely started and already he needed a do-over, not to mention he felt a massive headache coming on. Was it too late to call it a day and go back to bed? “That’s not what I meant, Landon, and you know it.”
“Really? You called me three times last night. One of them to make sure I wasn’t upstairs having a threesome. Seriously, man, Peggy? Not. Even. And speaking of Peggy, how many times did you check in with her last night? Did you check up on Peterson too? Make sure he was still stationed in the lobby and not in the bathroom jerking off?”
“I called Peggy once,” Galen begrudgingly admitted. “As far as Peterson goes, I do
not
want to think about what he does in the bathroom.”
“How many times?” Landon prodded.
“Twice.” Damn, when confronted with his OCD, it sounded bad.
Landon gave him a superior smirk. “Pretty damning evidence if you ask me.”
“Whatever. I’m not allowed to be concerned?”
“Oh, no.” Landon took a sip of his coffee. “That’s not what I’m saying at all. Concern is okay. Emotional investment, not so much. Monroe mentioned you’re trying to get witness security for her family?”