Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Harper adjusted the strap of her bathing suit and tank top before walking into her mother’s house. Only in Florida, a week before Christmas, would they have record high temperatures. Her flip-flops smacked the tile as she placed the presents in front of the tree.
“You made it,” Quinn said as she approached, placing a flowered lei around Harper’s neck.
“Who’s bright idea was a full day of celebration. First the luau, and later tonight, black tie. They must have spiked our drinks to make us agree to this.”
“I see you’re still a smartass.” Quinn winked. “You make me so proud.”
“Did you think I’d change during the six months you were in Scotland?”
“Absolutely not. It’s encoded in your DNA.” She grinned and laced her arm through Harper’s. “Which bikini are you wearing? Please don’t tell me the one with the red polka dots?”
“I burned that thing when I was fourteen, about the same time you were burning your bras and caught the kitchen on fire.”
“I miss those days,” Quinn said, leading Harper out to the back patio.
A band was on the stage playing island music, complete with steel drums. The musicians were wearing matching Hawaiian shirts.
A line of women dressed in grass skirts and bras made from shells were swinging their hips.
“We’re taking bets on which dancer gets so drunk she loses her shells first. You know dad’s friends are horny bastards. ”
Harper chuckled. “I’ve got twenty on the blonde in need of a root job. Where did Mom find the entertainment?”
“From me.” Quinn smiled. “If we have to socialize with all these people, we might as well enjoy ourselves.”
There were about fifty people hanging around and in the pool. The chefs were manning the grills, and was that a pig roasting near her mother’s prized roses? A smile formed on Harper’s lips. Her mother had to be somewhere in the house hyperventilating.
“There’s more people than I thought.”
“Well, we Thatcher’s do know how to throw a fabulous party.”
“You put free booze on the invite, didn’t you?”
“Of course.” She smiled brightly. “The only way to survive a full day with dad’s co-workers and all these strangers is to remember it in a haze.”
“Sucks to be you.” Harper rubbed Quinn’s pregnant belly. “Where’s the bar.”
Quinn turned toward the wrap-around veranda and pointed toward the house. “Over there. Coop and Aunt Betty elbowed the bartender out of the way and took over. I bet we’ll find the young guy hogtied in the pantry with duct tape over his mouth.”
“I’d bet money that Aunt Betty has him tied to a bed.”
Harper started for the bar, where she’d be perched for most of the party. Ian and Collin were wearing their kilts.
“Nice legs,” Harper said as she approached.
“Looking fine, Harper,” Ian said with a wink.
“What’s your pleasure?” Coop asked, tossing a rag over his shoulder.
“A man that will clean my house.”
“We’re fresh out of those. Do you want the same as last night?”
“Ohh. You went to the bar on a work day?” Grace said, sliding up to the bar. “What was the occasion?”
“She was meeting a guy,” Coop announced, making all the sisters turn in her direction. “She frisked him and everything.”
“Ohh, foreplay.” Grace’s eyes sparkled, and she glanced back at the pool. “Where are you hiding the new play toy?”
“Men and women can be just friends, Grace. It’s a fact.” Becca said.
“Not in this family.” Grace grinned.
“I hardly know the man. No way in hell would I bring him here.” Harper narrowed her eyes at Coop. “You suck at keeping secrets.” She ignored the heat in her cheeks and leaned over the counter to grab a beer from the ice.
“Sorry, doll. Nothing is off-limits in this family. Isn’t that right, babe?” Coop glanced over at Cara sitting in the shade beneath an umbrella, drinking a tall glass of what looked like iced tea.
Cara rubbed her belly as if that should answer the question, and it did.
Harper might have had a hand in helping set Cara and Coop up only five months ago, on a case, just so they’d spend time together, but Harper would never admit to it.
However, sending the ghost to Coop’s house to scare him silly had been all her idea of extra fun. It was the sisterly thing to do.
Quinn popped the top on Harper’s beer and dragged her to the umbrella table where Cara was sitting. “So tell us more about your mystery man. Did you do a background check or let Cara touch any of his things to get a read?”
Harper let out a long sigh. “He’s a client.”
“Nooo.” Grace’s eyes widened. “You little hussy. You broke company policy.”
“You make me so proud.” Quinn squeezed Harper like a pleased mother. “I bet he’s hot,” Quinn said, taking a seat. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“Slap your momma, tie me up, and bring out the whips, kind of hot.”
“I wasn’t aware you liked that,” a voice she recognized all too well said from behind her chair.
“Neither was I,” her dad added.
Harper jumped up from the chair as her sisters broke out in laughter. “You! What are you doing here?”
Ryker didn’t answer. His easy gaze landed on her lips, his easy grin, playful.
Harper snapped her gaze to her father. “Dad, how do you know this man?”
“Yes, Dad, I think we’d all like that answer.” Quinn rose and threaded her arm around Harper’s on one side as Grace did the same on the other.
Quinn glanced back at Cara. “Don’t be rude, Cara. Why don’t you shake his hand?”
That was code for “get your ass out of that chair and come do your thing.”
“Absolutely,” she said, holding her stomach as she stood. Just one touch and she’d know every one of his dirty, delectable secrets.
“Girls, I wanted to introduce you to Ryker Cage. He just bought out my shares in your company, and he’s your new partner.”
“You what!” they said in unison.
“Now hold on, girls.” Her dad raised his hand. His cool demeanor was cracking. He had to know Harper and her sisters would put up a fight. Their company had always been family owned. “I can explain.”
“I don’t think there’s an explanation possible that would suffice.” Harper crossed her arms over her chest and gestured to Ryker with her chin. “You should have done your homework. He’s dead.”
Her sisters looked at her as if she’d lost her mind.
“What? I found his death certificate in my search,” she said, as if that would make them understand.
“Not anymore.” He gave her a conspirator’s wink, earning her glare.
“He’s the man she met at the bar,” Coop said, moving to stand behind Cara and wrapping his arms around her belly, as if to protect them both.
“Dear, take this to the library. You’re creating a scene,” her mother said, whispering to the group.
“I agree,” her father announced and gestured for the others to follow.
Harper grabbed Ryker’s arm and waited for the others to get out of earshot. She ignored the heat in her face, knowing it showed. She was ready to spit nails and use him as her target. Of all the nerve. She gave him a tight, you-asshole smile.
“I don’t know what your game is, or what you’re after, but you can bet your ass I’m going to find out, and then I’m going to use your balls to decorate my Christmas tree.”
“That sounds unpleasant.” He rested his palm on her arm. “Relax.”
Quinn turned at the French doors and hollered, “Are you two coming, or do you need to get a room?”
Ryker held out his arm to gesture her forward.
“I’m not giving you my back. You might stab it with another knife from your boot.”
He held out his arm. “Fine. We’ll go together.” She ignored his arm, walked beside him into the house and showed the way to the library.
The rest of the family, except for her mother, was already waiting inside.
Harper kept her arms crossed. Her entire body vibrated with anger. Her emotion, coupled with that of her sisters, filled every inch of the room. They were all pissed. Nothing her father could say would ever make what he’d done okay.
“I know you girls are upset with me.”
“That’s an understatement,” Harper spat.
“It might help if I introduce myself, Mr. Thatcher.”
“Yes,” her dad said, flustered. His face flushed, contradicting the stony exterior he showed to everyone outside the family.
Ryker moved to the front of the room and cleared his throat. “My name is Ryker Cage. It is true that I was a client, and Harper stumbled on my death certificate, but I can explain. The death certificate was fabricated.”
“Obviously,” she said, propping her hand on her hip to stop herself from strangling him.
“My previous employment was as an operative in a special division of the government. We didn’t report to any of the letter agencies you’ve heard of. We oversaw, and were in charge of testing and utilizing individuals with your abilities, to help us achieve our goals.”
“You were using me?” Harper asked. The realization hit her like a punch in the gut.
“I was testing your accuracy. There is a difference, Harper.”
“Deceit has the same sour taste, no matter how pretty the presentation, Mr. Cage,” Quinn said as she moved to stand by Harper, along with her other sisters. The invisible battle line was drawn.
“Yes, well.” He let out a lengthy sigh. “I uncovered that one of our subjects was getting his information from outside help, including your hotline, and was pretending to be a detective. I tracked the calls to Harper. Someone found out, and the agency thought it would be best if I disappear until they find the subject. He’s trying to cover his tracks, and we believe you’re his next target,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.
“Why do you think she’s his next target?” Grace asked.
“He used two sources, and you’re the only one still alive.”
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered into the silent room, barely able to find her voice.
“Oh, for the love of God. Cara, you’re up,” Quinn said, snapping her fingers. She gestured to Cage.
Cara crossed the room without hesitation and touched Ryker’s shoulder. Coop stood by as her abilities started to work.
“What is she doing?” Ryker asked.
“The test subject’s name is Richard Grant.
” She let go of his arm and grabbed Coop's hand. “He’s telling the truth.” She turned to Harper.
“And Mr. Cage has been watching you. He’s got surveillance around your home.
He’s watched you go to work. He even watched you when you were debating to go into the bar. ”
His gaze was bold and assessing as Cara’s words registered. Richard Grant? The name was vaguely familiar, but not enough to remember their conversations. She opened her mouth, and nothing came out. She slowly started to shake her head. “I don’t remember a Grant.”
“Well, if that’s not just creepy.” Grace groaned and hit Harper’s shoulder. “You’ve got your own little hot stalker. I want one.”
“That’s a nifty trick. We should have been watching you, too, it seems,” he said to Cara.
“Back off,” Coop growled.
Ryker held up his hands. “I’m not the bad guy here. I saw a problem, and I stepped in to stop it.”
“And buying into the company? How does that fit into your plans?”
“I needed to be close, even if you guys protested. Your father agreed, so we came to an arrangement. Either he or you can buy back the shares when Richard Grant is out of the picture. It was a stipulation your father insisted on.” Ryker slid his hands into his pocket and licked his lips.
“Twenty-two seconds…that’s the amount of time it took me to hack your database.
Two minutes was the amount of time it took me to break in to set up the surveillance.
Thirty is the amount of times Harper has been vulnerable in just the last two days.
One…is the number of bullets it will take to kill her. Think of me as her bulletproof vest.”
Ice slid down Harper’s spine as she bit her tongue. “What do you get out of it for helping me…us?”
“I can answer that,” Aunt Betty said, walking into the library. “He needs your help.”
“With what?” Harper asked, pegging Ryker with her gaze, unable to let go of his deceit.
“Locating something. I’m not sure what it is yet, but he’s actively searching for something.”
“I’m going to need a stronger drink,” Harper said, spinning on her heels and storming out of the library.
Her mind was hazy as she replayed every word he’d ever told her.
The flirting, the twenty questions, the calls.
She’d been his research. A freakin’ pawn.
She walked into the kitchen and straight to the liquor cabinet.
No way was she going outside and facing all of those nameless people while pasting a smile on her face.
No amount of Christmas cheer could fix her mood.
She grabbed a bottle of tequila and set it on the counter. Bracing her hands on the countertop, she lowered her head and squeezed her eyes closed. Of all her clients, why him? Hell, why her?
“I take it that didn’t go well, lass?” Ian asked, resting his hip on the counter.
“No.” She sighed, lifting her gaze. “It seems we have a new partner, and worse than that, he’s been stalking me because he has a hidden agenda.”
“I’m no’ surprised. When you Thatchers get into trouble, it’s always the equivalent of a 747 jumbo jet trying to land in Times Square.”
Laughter escaped from Harper’s lips. “Those are wise words, MacDougall. You should forget you know us and run back to Scotland.”
“Nay, lass. You’re my new entertainment.” He gave her a lopsided grin as she twisted the top off the bottle.
“What would you do if you were a target, and being manipulated?”
Ian rested his hand on the top of the bottle. “I’d do what my father did before me, and his father before him. I’d draw my sword and fight to the death. I wouldn’t wait for the danger to find me. I’d charge all in and take them all by surprise. Do you know what I like about you sisters?”
“We have a pulse and boobs?”
He smiled and winked. “Besides that. You’re like female Highlanders.
The lot of you are fierce in your own right.
You seize the moment to help when you can and deal with the consequence after the fact.
Take a look at your sisters. Quinn was told to forget the emerald.
Cara was dead set against helping Coop. It only makes sense that you’ll handle this with the same finesse and stubbornness.
Besides, if that disnae work, then I’ll lend you a spare sword and fight by your side until we cut down each and every threat that stands to harm the others or you. You have the MacDougall word.”
“You’re right,” she said, recapping the liquor. “I am a fighter.”
“Aye, you come from a long line of them, lass.”