“Are you always so pushy?” She bent over him and her tongue flicked out at the head of his erection. “You just want to mount up and get to it?”
“Yeah.” The word drew out on a moan as she sealed her mouth over his shaft and sucked. “I’m impatient first thing in the morning.” She swirled her tongue over the crown and his hips bucked. Hell, she was too damned good.
Harper sat up and gave him a wicked grin. “Well, that’s too bad. Because it takes me
forever
to get going in the morning. I like to take my time.”
Her lips sealed over him once again and Galen pressed his head back into the pillows. Thank God for thoroughness.
Harper hadn’t been kidding when she’d told him she liked to take her time.
She took her time with him and then some. On the bed. The desk chair. In the shower.
Galen doubted he’d be able to get dressed on his own steam let alone walk anywhere ever again. His legs were shot. Arms weighted down. Muscles tight. But damn, did it feel good. Maybe they could move into the Comfort Inn. Live on the second floor like nudists, making love and lounging around all day. If only. He had to damn near force himself out of her room. And now that he was safely in his own adjoining room, all he wanted was to throw open the door that separated them and peel the layers of clothes from her body. He doubted the chief deputy would appreciate that, though. And it was only a matter of time before Peggy and a few other deputies showed up for their strategic planning session. After that, he’d be expected to hand Harper off to someone else’s care while he met with Monroe. As if he were going anywhere.
The reality of the situation was like a gut punch. Things were going to get much worse for Harper before they got better. Ellis’s murderer had escalated, going after Harper in public and ransacking her apartment. Which meant he was becoming more desperate to silence her. Even after they turned over everything she had to the FBI it could be weeks before the information in Ellis’s flash drive provided them with a solid lead. And even though it felt so good to have everything out in the open with her, Galen knew that until she was safe from whoever had tried to kill her, he wouldn’t truly be able to take a deep breath.
From the chair where he sat, Galen looked at the door that separated his room from hers. Leaving had been torture. Several yards, that’s all that spanned between them, yet it felt like miles. Keeping up appearances would be harder than he thought when all he wanted was to be near her, touch her, reside in her orbit, hovering like the moon as he watched over her and kept her safe. Surely his colleagues would notice, if they hadn’t already. Honestly, it was a wonder Landon hadn’t filled everyone in, if only for his own entertainment rather than any sense of responsibility.
A steady knock interrupted any theories on whether or not he was the subject of office gossip. He crossed the room and answered the door to find his friend standing in the doorway holding a pink box with fluffy white clouds and tied with a black ribbon. Speak of the devil and he appears . . .
“I’m wondering, since when does room service fall under the duties of a highly decorated deputy U.S. marshal? This is twice I’ve been your food delivery boy. I’m not sure I like it.”
“Highly decorated?” Galen scoffed. “If you’re talking about your designer jeans and overpriced shirt, then, yeah, I guess I’d consider you pretty highly decorated.”
“It’s sad, Galen, that you’re such a hater.” Landon brushed past him and entered the hotel room, his neck craning toward the bathroom before he settled in at the desk. “And that you have to bribe women with your sister’s fancy pastries to get them to like you.”
Galen knew he never should have told Landon about Amy Renfro. “Harper had a rough day yesterday and she likes Michelle’s apple fritters.”
“Right. Like you’re not totally laying these fritters at her feet as a token of your love. Dude, if you don’t watch it, you are so gonna lose your job.”
Galen flopped down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. He’d known Landon for years, and he hoped his transparency was more because Landon knew about his and Harper’s history, rather than the fact that he was walking around like some lovesick teenager. “I won’t be taken off this detail,” Galen said, turning to face Landon. “I know the deep shit I’ll be in if Monroe finds out before I tell him. But until I know Harper’s safe, I’m not letting anyone else protect her.”
“I’m not telling you what to do, man.” Landon pushed himself out of the chair and headed for the door. “It’s not like I’m squeaky clean. Play it cool, that’s all I’m sayin’. Did you get Harper to spill anything about what’s on her laptop? Because I overheard Monroe on the phone this morning and it sounds like Davis is ready to move with obstruction charges. Which means he’ll be sending agents over soon to arrest her and seize her laptop. Just a heads-up.”
If Davis laid a finger on Harper, he’d break the bastard’s arm. “She’s ready to talk. If anyone gets to take custody of Harper or her computer, it’s going to be our agency, not the fucking FBI.”
“If I can, I’ll give you a heads-up on Davis before they head out. Maybe you can get her to our office before they show up. In the meantime, I’m getting ready to head out on assignment.”
Galen sat up on the bed. “Where?”
“You remember Ruiz?”
“The federal judge who extorted all that money from Mendleson Corp.?”
“The one and only. He escaped during a routine transfer. Can you believe that shit? The guy’s got to be in his sixties
and
he has cancer. Totally badass. That’s what they get for using undertrained pussies for something like that. Ruiz took out the guards somewhere between Sheridan and his oncologist’s office in Salem. They think he’ll try to contact his daughter. I get the ass-numbingly dull task of staking her out. Yay.”
Galen pushed himself off the bed and crossed over to where Landon stood with one hand on the doorknob. Emma Ruiz and Landon had history. During their first investigation into Ruiz, the judge’s daughter had been a major pain in Landon’s ass. He could only imagine what a reunion between the two would be like. And he almost hoped she gave him hell.
He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Be careful, man.”
Landon snorted. “Right. The worst that could happen is I get a fucking hangnail or sprain my finger playing
Temple Run
on my phone. Your girlfriend got shot at and you took a bullet. I swear to God, you are the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. Later.”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Galen said as Landon walked out the door. Was she?
“
Right
,” Landon replied. “Galen, you’re such a loser.”
Galen laughed. “Hater.”
“Damn right,” Landon called as he headed down the hallway. “You suck.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Harper alternated between eating her apple fritter and typing. She did both with gusto. Her fingers flew on the laptop’s keyboard, and Galen marveled at the focus she exhibited, both in eating and working.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re typing?” Galen asked from his perch on the bed. Channel surfing was losing its luster as he’d much rather watch Harper. The only thing that would make the view better was if she were in that desk chair, naked. With her legs propped up on the desktop. And him pumping into her.
Focus on the job, Galen. The job.
Not
the beautiful woman you want to fuck until neither of you can walk straight
. God, he was hopeless.
“I’ll tell you when I’m done,” Harper said, apparently oblivious to the raging hard-on he was sporting. “But trust me, once this story is finished and I get Sam to upload it to the paper’s website, all of our problems will be solved and we can finally put this bullshit behind us.”
“Oh, you think so, huh?” Galen couldn’t be quite as optimistic as long as he was in the dark. “And when did you come to that great revelation, may I ask?”
Harper looked up from her laptop and gave him a wicked grin. “Between orgasms three and four,” she said in a husky tone that did nothing to cool Galen’s lust. “Seriously, though, around three in the morning.”
“And what was I doing while you were solving the world’s problems?”
“Sleeping,” she said. “You make the cutest little snuffling sounds at night. Did you know that?”
“I don’t know if you realize this or not, but guys don’t really appreciate being told anything they do is cute.”
“Oh.” She laughed. “Sorry. Did you know you make the most badass, manly, snuffling sounds when you sleep?”
“That’s better. So, while I was sleeping, you were up doing what exactly?” For some reason, he could totally picture Harper dangling off the second-story balcony, dressed in black and ready for some covert ops.
“I was reading this.” Harper brandished a tiny silver flash drive. “And it’s full of all sorts of juicy little tidbits.”
“Such as?”
“Such as what had Ellis in hot water and who was sitting right there in the pot with him.”
Galen didn’t like Harper’s triumphant expression. It was that cavalier attitude of hers that sent her running off toward danger instead of away from it like she should. “Okay.” Galen sat up on the bed and faced her. “Don’t you think this is something you should be turning over to Monroe rather than writing a story about? There’s still someone out there looking to put a bullet in you.”
“Exactly. Which is why turning this stuff over to Curt isn’t the best idea. Yet.”
Harper continued to type away, the
clicky-clack
of the keys driving into Galen’s skull like tiny swords. He rubbed his temples and took a deep, calming breath that turned out to be neither deep nor calming. The thought of Harper in danger was too fucking stressful. “Explain to me why that’s not a good idea, Harper, because I’m really trying to understand why you think obstruction of justice is the most logical option.”
“Silly mortal,” Harper said with a grin. “You have no idea of the scope of my powers.”
“Hmmm.” Her humor was lost on him. He couldn’t help but think of the additional trouble she was about to cause. “That sounds more like a super villain proclamation than hero.”
“Heroine,” she corrected without breaking her stride.
Clicky-clack, clicky-clack
. “Galen, trust me. I know what I’m doing, and turning this information over to the FBI or even Curt isn’t going to make anything easier for us. This is the best way. Wait, strike that. This is the only way.”
Galen sighed. Her tenacity was one of the things he loved most about Harper. But right now, it was one of the things that drove him bat-shit crazy. “So, what’s your next move?”
Harper paused to dig into the last of her apple fritter. She washed it down with a gulp from a plastic cup with C
OMFORT
I
NN
printed across the front. “Next, we’re going to the paper and I’m going to sweet-talk Sam into posting this ASAP. Once it’s live, it’ll go viral. Blogs, news outlets, everyone will want to report on it. Boom!” She made an explosive motion with her hands. “No more secrets. News reporter level: Boss.”
Great. She was so excited she was mixing her comic book and video game analogies. If she didn’t settle down, she’d be reciting Mel Gibson’s monologue from
Braveheart
soon.
“If I agree to stop at the newspaper first, will you go with me to the office after that? So we can turn everything you have over to Monroe?” His phone rang beside him and Galen checked the caller ID to see Landon’s cheesy face pop up on the screen.
“Scout’s honor,” Harper replied, holding up two fingers.
Galen swiped his finger across the screen as he flashed Harper a stern look. “Hey, Landon. What’s up?”
“Just an FYI, Special Agent Dickhead is on his way over to arrest your honey,” Landon said. “Better get while the gettin’s good.”
Shit. “Thanks, man. You headed out?”
“In the morning. Meeting up with prison officials this afternoon and the lead investigator tomorrow morning. God, I hope someone gets shot.”
Landon was the biggest adrenaline junkie Galen had ever met. But just because he enjoyed the rush didn’t mean he seriously wanted someone to get shot. “Yeah, well, if anything, someone will shoot you for running off at the mouth. So be sure to wear a vest.”
“Hater,” Landon said before he disconnected the call.
“Harper, how far are you on that article?”
Harper shot him a dirty look. “This is not an article—it’s an exposé.”
Good Lord. Now was not the time for her to get cheeky. “Whatever. Is it almost done?”
“Yeah. Just putting on the finishing touches. Why?”
“Because if we’re gonna go, we need to get out of here now. Davis is on his way over to arrest you.”
“Are you kidding me?” Harper had the nerve to sound outraged. He smiled. Tenacity. “I can finish up at the paper.” She shut the lid on her laptop and stuffed it into a case along with Senator Ellis’s flash drive. “Let’s go.”
Galen peeked his head out the door to see if any of the other deputies were patrolling the hallway. Coast was clear. “Okay, take the stairs and the back exit. I don’t want anyone to know we’re gone until we’re in the car and heading out of the parking lot.”
As he followed Harper out the door into the hallway, Galen couldn’t help but think that she and Landon would get along just fine.
Harper was antsy as hell for her story to go live and it wasn’t helping that Sam was being all responsible and professional in his consideration of it. It was the kind of anticipation a kid feels on Christmas Eve, or on your birthday when you know you’re going to get something awesome. This story would make her career. She wouldn’t have to daydream about getting a job offer from
The Washington Post
because after the Ellis scandal broke; she was pretty sure her dreams would come true.
Suck it,
Washington Post
! Cuz I’m staying in Oregon
.
Galen had been quiet for most of the drive and she figured it might be best to give him some space. Again, as a deputy U.S. marshal, it probably didn’t look good for him to be helping someone hide from the FBI, let alone conspiring with that person. And by asking for his help, Harper had definitely made Galen her coconspirator. Truth be told, there was no one she’d rather conspire with. But she hoped this would be the first and last time either one of them would be sneaking around.
“You’ve gotta help me out here, Sam.” Harper sat in front of her editor’s desk while Galen stood like a sentinel at the closed office door. She tried to ignore how amazing he looked: arms crossed at his chest, legs braced apart, muscles bunching in all the right places. His blue eyes were alert and narrowed, his jaw set. He looked like a freaking god keeping watch over her, and it turned Harper’s insides to Jell-O.
Focus on the story, Harp. Not the sexy marshal
.
“You know I want to jump all over this,” Sam said, leaning forward to get his point across. “But it’s irresponsible to throw something up on the Web like that. Once your story’s live, we can’t simply delete it, or edit the content, or filter anything.” He sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, if you’re going to post this online you might as well chisel it into stone and fill in the words with your own blood, Harp. The Internet is permanent. The original story will never go away. And if any part of it doesn’t hold water, the media will
crucify
you.”
“I’ve thought about that, Sam, but I was very careful in the write-up. Until we can dig a little deeper—and trust me, it won’t be hard with what I’ve got—the way the story stands is liability-free.”
Sam scanned the document on Harper’s laptop. “So basically, this is your story. Not Ellis’s. You start off recounting the night he was shot and go from there.”
“Yep.”
“But you do claim to have evidence that proves Ellis was in league with union and state officials to defraud the Social Security Administration as well as the state’s firefighters. That’s not small potatoes, kiddo. The first accusation is borderline treasonous. The second . . .” Sam scrubbed his palm over his balding head. “Ellis might as well be guilty of kicking puppies and old ladies or abusing nuns. I mean, you rip off the unsung heroes of the country and you’re in for it.”
“Exactly!” Jeez, had Sam been listening to her
at all
the past half hour? “That’s why he’s dead, Sam! Ellis felt guilty over the fact that he’d become a puppy kicker and was ready to clear his conscience.”
“Here’s the deal, Harper. Ellis isn’t here to corroborate your story. You’re about to expose the most forthright senator in recent political history. The guy might as well have been a freaking saint. And you’re not only implicating Ellis. If you’re wrong, you can kiss your career good-bye.”
She’d thought of that. But her career was a small sacrifice for her freedom. What good would all of her hard work be if she was spending the next year or longer living someone else’s life? She could see it now: she’d be Becky Farmer, grocery store cashier in Nowhereville, Tennessee. Or something like that. And yeah, there were worse things to be than Becky Farmer, cashier. But she wanted to be Harper Allen, political beat reporter for
The Oregonian
. She deserved the life she’d worked for, the education she’d paid for with her own blood, sweat, tears, and student loans. And nothing—no one—was going to take that from her.
“You’re right, Sam. Ellis isn’t here to corroborate. And I’m pretty sure the people I accuse will turn around and try to discredit me. But that’s not the point.”
Sam leaned his elbows on his desk and fixed Harper with a serious stare. “Then what is the point? Because if I publish this story, it’ll be my ass on the line, too.”
“I want my life back, Sam.” Harper couldn’t help the desperation that leaked into her voice. This was her last and only shot to do something about her situation. This time tomorrow, she’d be in FBI custody and Davis would be off somewhere laughing his evil federal agent laugh. “Here’s the thing. I didn’t exactly name names in the article—”
“That’s stretching it a bit, Harp,” Sam interrupted.
True. It’s not like it would be hard to match a name to the description since Harper reported an alleged conspiracy to commit fraud involving someone in the state controller’s office, one of Ellis’s aides, and a state deputy fire marshal. Anyone in the know could connect the dots. “I was careful with my wordage, I didn’t outright accuse anyone. I know the legalese. Here’s the deal, Sam. Whoever killed Ellis and tried to kill me wants the information on Ellis’s flash drive kept a secret. If there isn’t a secret to keep, there’s no need to kill me. Unless the murderer is nothing more than a vindictive ass, and I’d be willing to bet he isn’t. Once the story breaks, everyone involved will forget about me because they’ll be racing to cover their own assess before the FBI comes knocking on their doors.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Galen piped in from the back of the room, his tone as dark as his expression.
Harper turned to face him. “If I’m wrong, I’m no worse off than I am now. Davis will still arrest me for obstruction. I’ll still be under witness protection. And my life won’t belong to me until the feds conclude their investigation and make arrests. By which time, Ellis’s coconspirators will have a chance to take the money and run. I’ll be Becky Farmer forever.”
“Becky Farmer?” Galen asked. “What in the hell are you talking about?”
“Never mind.” Maybe they’d let her be a Suzette or Pria. Something exotic.
Focus, Harp
. “Sam, how often do we get a chance like this?”
Sam’s eyes lit up and a smile tugged at his mouth. “Well, it would be the scoop of the century.”
“It has to go live today, Sam. Now.” There wasn’t time to run this by the editor-in-chief. Every second wasted was another second closer to a stay in a federal prison. And truth be told, Harper was too short and pale to pull off an orange jumpsuit. “The window of opportunity is only going to get smaller and smaller. Come on. Will you post it?”
“Is it ready to roll?”
Harper smiled. She knew she could count on Sam to have her back. “Almost. A few finishing touches and one more read-through and it’ll be ready.”
“Use the conference room,” Sam suggested. “I don’t want anyone reading over your shoulder. You’ve already got everyone’s tongues wagging with the way you barged in here this morning with that I-just-hit-the-journalistic-jackpot grin on your face.”
“You have to admit, I totally did.”
“Yeah,” Sam agreed begrudgingly. “Let’s hope you don’t get us all fired because of it.”
“Oh, ye of little faith!” Harper tried to sound hurt, but she was too excited. “Go have a cup of coffee and relax. This is going to turn out great.”