Chapter 19
Harlyn
The immediate elation I felt at Boone’s announcement disappeared when we had to drive past the guard shack cordoned off with police tape and surrounded by emergency vehicles.
Guilt replaced it. Even now, while sitting next to Boone who shrugged into his jacket before locking up the condo and taking me to his hotel to gather his things, I can’t help but wonder what I’m getting him into.
He looks over at me as if he feels my eyes on the side of his face.
I can’t help but notice that he seems too big for the connected chairs at the airport, but his size and demeanor seem to have an effect on the people around us.
No one has tried to sit next to him, even though there aren’t many vacant seats, and he gets lots of looks.
That’s not surprising since he is handsome, the kind of handsome that makes women think about things, like how he would look under them, or maybe that’s just me.
“You good?” His voice is pitched low and for my ears only.
“I…”
He presses his lips together and tilts his head. He appears certain he knows what I’m about to say, and he would have been right, because it isn’t the first time I’ve offered to fly across the country, or to another country entirely, so I don’t put him or anyone else in danger.
“Need to go to the bathroom,” I lie.
His eyes narrow. Damn, he is too smart.
“Really?” He couldn’t sound more doubtful.
“Yup,” I reply, committing to the untruth.
Boone looks down at his watch. “Might as well try since we should be boarding soon.”
“Meet you back here in two shakes.” I use the arms of the chairs to stand before adding, “Then we can talk about what a bad idea this is.”
“I knew it!” He makes it sound like a curse, but I just smile as I cross the thirty feet to the nearest restroom.
When I return, I stop mid-step. The seat Boone was occupying is now empty. My heart drops, but I tell myself he just went to the restroom as well and everything is fine.
“Harlyn.” I jump when I hear my name called over my shoulder.
“Good gravy, you startled me,” I accuse.
“Is that a Texas saying?” He ignores my reaction and focuses on the words I used.
“It’s a granny saying,” I counter and take the offered bottle of water he’s extending toward me.
“I like it.”
“I can’t believe I even said it.”
“Why? It’s cute.”
“Cute?” I widen my eyes at him.
“Yeah.” He shrugs and opens his water with a twist. It’s ridiculous that I notice the way his bicep flexes, but I do.
“Don’t you know girls don’t like being called cute?” I tease.
“I didn’t call you cute. You are beautiful. I called the saying cute.”
“Oh, you’re a smooth talker.” I smile, flattered even though I’m acting like I’m unaffected.
“Smooth or not, it’s the truth, but Harlyn…” He pauses for only a breath then adds, “I also think you’re cute. Adorable, in fact.”
I titter like a high school girl getting hit on by an older boy for the first time. It’s embarrassing. “Stop trying to make me forget why I can’t go home with you.”
“You can and will. No, you are coming home with me. How’s that?”
“Boone…” I sigh, wishing I could forget how it felt to drive past John draped in a sheet on an ambulance gurney. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”
“It wouldn’t be because of you. None of this is your fault, but I will be fine. I’m also going to make damn sure you are too, so whether it’s my house, a safe house, or a hotel room, which wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable, you will be with me. This will go much easier if you just accept it.”
“Just accept it. Is that what I tell your mom and sisters if something does happen? What about your coworkers and the people who care about you?”
“My family knows what I do and how dangerous it is. Are you saying you can’t accept it?”
This question feels deeper than just this moment, like he’s asking if I can live with knowing that he hunts serial killers every day, and that the danger for Boone won’t end when he finds whoever killed Hayzel. Can I?
“Now boarding flight A37 to Reagan National,” comes over the loudspeaker. Boone’s face falls at my silence, and I know my answer.
“Yes.”
“Yes what?” I could be imagining the hopeful glint in his eyes, but I don’t think I am.
“Yes, I would accept it because I know that’s the only way I could—” Have you, I think, but I don’t have the courage to say it out loud.
Boone slides his fingers between mine, and that’s how we walk to the boarding area.
Boone
The second I take my phone off airplane mode, dozens of messages and calls fill the screen. I knew I would be coming home to a bigger shit show than the one I left in Michigan, but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forward to it.
I shoot Mickey a text first and let her know I will call her to fill her in as soon as I get somewhere with a bit of privacy, and that will be a little while since I need to have this conversation away from Harlyn.
I already know Mickey isn’t going to be happy, but I don’t need Harlyn to know that.
She will blame herself, and she has more than enough to deal with already.
“I thought it would be bigger.” Harlyn’s comment, something no man ever wants to hear in any context, pulls my attention from my phone while we’re waiting on my luggage.
She’s gazing around the airport, and I understand her statement.
Reagan feels small compared to a lot of other airports, but it still handles a good deal of traffic.
“Never been to D.C.?”
“No. Hayzel came with the debate club or something when we were in high school, but I didn’t.”
“Debate club, huh? Are you telling me you don’t like to argue?” I tease.
She turns slowly to face me, her expression set in a mask of innocence that wouldn’t fool anyone. “Me? Argue? Never.” She exaggerates her response with enough sugar to rival even my mother’s tea.
If we weren’t in a crowded baggage line, I would kiss her. She must sense the shift in my thoughts, because her features soften as I stare at her.
“What?” Her question is spoken quietly, almost shyly, but shy isn’t a word I would use for Harlyn. She’s too sure of herself for that.
“You.”
“Me what?” She tilts her head.
“You are going to get me in trouble,” I tease, but her curious grin falls.
“That’s what I’m worried about.”
I wrap my arm around her back and tug her closer to my body.
PDA isn’t my thing, never has been, but Harlyn is changing all the rules, and she doesn’t even know it.
“Not that kind of trouble. This kind.” I lean down and press my lips against hers tenderly.
It’s not nearly enough to satisfy me, but it’s enough for now.
Her eyes are slow to open when I pull away, and the measure of trust she shows makes me feel like I’m ten feet tall.
Harlyn doesn’t relax. From the moment I first laid eyes on her, I could see the reserved way she held herself.
Her personality is too big to be hidden completely, but there’s no hiding the fact that she’s standoffish.
Over the last few days, she’s showed me more and more of the true her, but there is nothing like the way she melts when I touch her. It’s intoxicating.
“Trouble,” she whispers.
I have no idea how I’m going to have her in my home, in my bed, and not take full advantage of every minute we are alone.
“Is that you?” She motions toward the conveyer where my suitcase and duffle are slowly slipping past. I have to stop allowing myself to get so distracted. It could easily get both of us hurt or worse.
I step clear of her and move past a few other travelers to snag my things before they circle the belt.
Harlyn offers to help carry my bag, which earns her a sardonic glare.
“No, not ever,” I say a little harshly, but not only would my mother kill me, but even the thought of her doing it is abhorrent.
“Okay.” She mock surrenders, lifting both of her hands.
I loop my duffle over the tall handle of my luggage to free up one of my hands just in case.
I booked and paid for our flights, another point of contention with Harlyn, but she acquiesced when I explained it was better not to use her cards until we know just how much access this bastard has to her life.
I’m confident he couldn’t have followed us yet.
I even had her create a new email on my computer to send the verification to in the event he has a key tracer on her devices, which seemed to reassure her a small measure.
She also sent her friend a text from my phone, telling her she was okay and would be in contact soon.
I’m certain I pay for a landline, it was a package deal with my internet and cable provider when I signed up years ago, but now I just need to scrounge up an old phone for her to use in the meantime.
She’s quiet and observant as we wait for the shuttle. Her eyes seem to scan the crowd much in the same way I and many of the people I work with do. Most people mistake it for people watching, and it is in a way, but it isn’t for entertainment.
When I see her turn her face up toward the sun, pretending she isn’t paying extra attention to the few single males nearby, I bump her shoulder. “He couldn’t have followed.”
She peeks up at me. “Am I that obvious?”
“No, you just look like you’re checking out all the guys.”
Her eyes widen in horror. “No,” she denies while flashing her pretty blue eyes around the area as if trying to see who else might think she’s ogling men.
“I’m teasing,” I reassure her, which was all I was trying to do anyway.
When the small bus that will take us to one of the auxiliary parking lots finally pulls up, I urge her on ahead of me.
Once we’re seated, it begins to sink in that I am really taking her to my place.
I don’t often have company. My sister Holly and her boys stayed for a few nights over the summer.
They camped out in my living room and did a bunch of touristy shit, like museums and tours.
I offered her my room, but she refused, and I think her kids got a kick out of the blanket fort she made for them to sleep in while she took the couch.
“My place isn’t huge,” I warn, “and I wasn’t really expecting guests.”
“I can get a hotel,” she offers quickly as if she thinks I’m trying to get out of her coming home with me.
“I’m just saying don’t judge me if I haven’t dusted in a while or if I left my hamper full.”
“A full hamper?” she gasps in mock outrage.
“Full might have been an exaggeration, since most of my dirty clothes are probably on the floor.”
“At least none of your clothes will have a tracker in them or have to be checked for listening devices.” She smiles too brightly. I don’t know what to say to that, so I just end up laying my hand over hers, which is resting on her thigh. “Sorry I’m a downer.”
“You aren’t a downer.”
“I am, but thanks for not making me feel like it. How far is your place from here?” She seems eager to change the subject.
“Depending on traffic, fifteen or twenty minutes. I didn’t want to be too close to the capital, not that I could afford that area anyway.
” I find myself lowering her expectations.
Clearly, Harlyn has money, way more than me, but many people hear FBI profiler and think I’m racking it in when really, I barely hit six figures with overtime.
I know that’s nothing to balk at, but D.C.
is an expensive town, and I don’t want her to be underwhelmed. “I live in an apartment.”
“Lots of neighbors,” she comments.
“Yeah, but it isn’t bad.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean it was… It’s just… Never mind.”
“What?” I urge her to continue.
She leans in a little closer and says, “Neighbors mean someone might hear.”
“Hear wha—” I don’t finish, because my brain already filled in the answer. Someone fighting for their life.
“Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s not…
that I shouldn’t think like that, but I can’t help it.
It kills me to know I will probably never be comfortable at the ranch again, and it makes me even madder that I’m letting him steal something else from me.
He… It colors every thought I have, and I’m sick of it.
” Anger and pain make her voice hard. I notice a couple just a few seats away with their eyes trained on us, ready to see what other drama might unfold.
I squeeze her fingers and tell her the only thing I can.
“You won’t always feel that way.” I wish I could promise her more and tell her she will forget about all this someday, that it will just be a distant memory, but some memories are too big to dismiss, and unfortunately, Hayzel’s death and the way she lost her will be with Harlyn for the rest of her life.
Eventually, time will ease her memories if she allows it.
I don’t see that happening with the killer still on the loose though.
Cheeks red, Harlyn lays her head on my shoulder without another word, but her eyes say everything she doesn’t. She doesn’t believe me or can’t—not yet.
When I look up again, the other couple is no longer looking in our direction, having lost interest when no more tense words were spoken.