15. Harper
15
Harper
T he numbing cream Paul had applied to Harper before sliding the needle through her flesh did fuck all. It hurt like a son of a bitch. She howled extra loudly in his ear as he worked on closing her wound.
Yes, it was nice of him to do, but he was hired to murder her, so he deserved some ringing ears. She was under no obligation to be nice or grateful. She’d eyed him skeptically when he’d offered her the Tylenol pills for the pain. He insisted that if he were going to kill her, he wouldn’t use pills to do it.
That would take too long—as opposed to his current plan?
Ultimately, she knew he wouldn’t poison her. It wasn’t his way.
She reluctantly took them.
An hour later, sitting on the couch, bored as fuck, wearing his shirt, her arm still throbbed in pain. It wasn’t quite excruciating, but it still fucking hurt. Paul had disappeared after his little sewing project, leaving her unattended in the front room.
Harper should try to run. There was nothing between her and the door or any of the multiple windows. She didn’t recall there being a locking noise after they’d entered, so as far as she knew, it wouldn’t take much effort to leave.
But where would she go?
She couldn’t see the main road from the house. There was a slew of trees between there and the street. Paul would definitely figure out she’d left before she could get too far. Besides, her shoes weren’t for running, and going barefoot would be worse. With her luck, she’d fall and twist an ankle.
Blowing out a breath, she considered her options—sit here and wait for Paul to shoot her in the head or figure out some sort of escape plan. Maybe she could wait for him to go to sleep. He clearly had let his guard down around her.
She had that going for her. He didn’t take a ton of precautions he should have for someone keeping a hostage. For one, he hadn’t restrained her. Two, he took his eyes off her. Really, he did a piss-poor job at this whole kidnapping thing.
A clomping noise outside, toward the front of the house, drew Harper’s attention. Stiffening, she snapped her focus to the windows, but the curtains didn’t allow her even a glimpse of outside. Her pulse picked up as she stood, eyeing the door.
Should she call for Paul? What if someone else had arrived to take her out?
Swallowing hard as she backed toward the kitchen, she tried to put as much distance between her and the next hired gun.
With a beep of alarms, the door opened, and she held her breath.
A bulky, older version of Paul with a blondish-reddish beard and ocean-blue eyes walked through the door. His hands were weighed down with several shopping bags. Obviously, he wasn’t a threat, but who was he? He was familiar, like she’d seen him before, but she couldn’t place him.
“Harper.” He grinned. “Nice to see you again. How have you been?”
“Well, I’m not dead,” she snapped. Of course he knew who she was. He was in on Paul’s harebrained scheme to kidnap her and then kill her.
He chuckled, closing the door behind him with his foot.
None of this made any damn sense. What in the hell was going on?
Frozen in place, caught off guard by the pleasantry, she watched as he strode into the room, stopped at the coffee table, and dropped the bags.
From a small hallway, Paul emerged with a crisp clean black shirt. How nice of him to get dressed. “What took you so long?”
Snorting, the other man rummaged through the bags, seeming to separate them by contents. Harper continued to keep her distance.
“You had quite the shopping list. It took time,” the new guy said.
“I’m not sure if you remember my brother, Eddie,” Paul introduced as he carried several of the sacks toward the kitchen.
Oh! Now she recalled him. Eddie worked in the laundromat’s basement with them years ago. They’d barely spoken then, so it wasn’t her fault for forgetting him. Also, he was in on the plot to kill her. She wasn’t sorry about it.
Lifting a bag, still wearing quite the endearing smile, he extended his arm toward Harper. “For you.”
Eyeing him skeptically, she made no move to take it. “What is it?”
“Clothes,” he said. “I mean, you could keep walking around in Paul’s shirt, but I thought you might want to change occasionally.”
Narrowing her eyes, she snatched the bag from him. “Exactly how long am I staying here?” she called over her shoulder to Paul.
“Don’t know,” he shouted back at her.
Great .
Opening the sack, she sifted through the contents. Oversized T-shirts, some leggings, socks, and panties. Even sneakers. “How did you know my size?”
Eddie shrugged. “Memory, I guess.”
She arched a brow in his direction.
“Paul told me what to get.” He chuckled.
As he walked past her, she turned and followed him into the kitchen, where Paul was filling the refrigerator.
“What’s the plan?” she demanded.
“Kill you,” Paul said flatly.
“Then why go through all this trouble?”
“I haven’t decided how,” he quipped.
“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath and rolled her eyes. Her growing exasperation with this situation had about reached its limit.
Eddie snickered as he opened a cabinet and tucked away boxes and cans. “Seriously, though, we need to talk.”
Closing the fridge, Paul sighed and leaned against a counter. He turned his steely gaze on his brother.
Eddie’s eyes skimmed over Paul’s chest, and he lifted his brows. “What happened there?” He gestured to the gash in Paul’s side.
“It’s nothing,” Paul dismissed.
Eddie’s gaze drifted over to Harper.
She smirked and lifted her chin defiantly. “I fight back.”
Eddie nodded. “Good for you. I didn’t think you’d take this bullshit lying down.”
Going farther into the kitchen, she dropped the clothing bag on the edge of the counter and studied Paul’s brother. “What do you know about it?”
He blew out a breath and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Not much. There’s a very hefty bounty on your head, and a lot of people want to cash in.”
“Who set it?” she asked.
“Don’t know,” Eddie answered nonchalantly before turning his attention back to Paul. “The shit hit the fan a bit ago.”
“About what?” Paul asked.
Eddie worked his fingers through his short blond hair. “Your cleanup crew bumped into another one. Any hope that they wouldn’t find out who was responsible went right out the window.”
“It could’ve been Harper.” Paul gestured in her direction. “She’s feisty.” He twisted and waved at the cut in his side.
Shimmying her shoulders, she nodded, accepting the compliment.
“Either way, Niall knows we were involved. Not you specifically, but us,” Eddie continued. “And he’s kind of pissed that his nephew ate a bullet.”
Harper narrowed her eyes as she listened. They either forgot she was there—unlikely considering they were just talking to her—or they didn’t care about her overhearing because she was a dead woman walking. Whatever. She wasn’t moving. This was valuable information.
Niall. She knew that name. Her dad was bitching about him last week.
“It’s the Irish who want me dead?” she blurted, interrupting their conversation.
“No.” Paul didn’t even look at her. “He was careless,” he said of the man he’d killed. “If he’d actually taken his time, he might still be here, but no. He went off all crazed and got what he deserved. Niall is better off not having such a wild card under him.”
Eddie rubbed his fingers along his forehead. “Well, suffice it to say, he and Dad are arguing about turf now. The Irish reneged on a gun deal. They want your head on a platter.”
Paul scoffed. “Fuck them.”
Harper’s jaw shifted as she listened intently. Interesting. Paul fucked up pretty badly.
“Yeah, Dad agreed, but that doesn’t change that we’re now on their shit list.”
Paul waved a hand dismissively. “They’ll get over it. Dad and Uncle Joseph will figure it out.”
“There’s more,” Eddie announced.
Harper was on the edge of her seat. If only she had popcorn. Though it was probably bad form to interrupt and ask. She supposed she could wait.
Paul scrubbed the back of his neck. “Of course there is.”
As he rubbed his temples, a pang of sympathy thrummed within her chest. She shouldn’t feel bad for him, but she couldn’t help it. The poor guy looked stressed as hell.
“They upped the bounty,” Eddie said.
“So it is the Irish,” Harper interjected.
Both of them glared at her.
“No.” Paul’s brother shook his head. “The Irish just added to it because they’re pissed off. You’re a package deal now. Sixty million total. Thirty from the Colombians, and Niall is fronting the other half.”
Harper’s brows flew up. “The Colombians want me dead?”
Paul cursed under his breath, turned, and punched the stainless steel refrigerator.
With shoulders sagging, Eddie turned toward her, letting Paul stomp off, growling as he threw the back door open, nearly taking it off the hinges. His brother approached her, and she cautiously stepped back.
He reached for her hands. She allowed him to take both but eyed him with skepticism despite the weary, yet comforting expression on his face. “No, love. It’s not the Irish, the Colombians, the Bratva, the Yakuza, or even the Sicilians.”
“Then who?”
Sighing, he hung his head. “We don’t really know. The Colombians brought it to the table on behalf of their friends. The price is so high, no one thought to ask. It was unnecessary information. When the bounty is that lucrative, and you have a known syndicate vouching for it, you let them remain anonymous.”
“Who has that kind of money?” Harper wondered aloud.
Releasing her, Eddie shrugged. “The world’s a big place. I think the easier question is, who have you pissed off so bad that you put my brother in the line of fire?”
Suddenly, his gaze darkened. Gone was his empathy and his patience. Rage emanated from him and prickled her skin.
“Again.” The timbre of his voice dropped, and it was clear he hadn’t forgiven her for the minor incident twelve years ago. She may not have pulled the trigger, but it was obvious why Paul had a bullet in his shoulder.
Harper fought the urge to take another step back from him. She couldn’t help it. Instead, she looked away. Long-forgotten guilt unfurled in her gut. It wasn’t her proudest moment. If she could take it back, she would, but the past didn’t work that way. Saying it would be pointless.
When his fingers gripped her chin, she startled.
He dragged her attention back to him, and he stared directly into her eyes with abject hate. Were she any other person, she probably would’ve cowered, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, no matter how remorseful she was for the past.
“Don’t get my brother killed.”
“I don’t plan on it.” To be fair, none of this was her idea. How could he hold her responsible?
“I’m not as nice as he is.”