by Mandy Baxter
Password? Crap. She typed in Mark Edward Ellis. No go. Elaine Ellis. Nope. His daughters, Blake and Jane, then Jane and Blake. Uh-uh. She Googled his bio and his obituary, entered his birthdate, hometown, and even his high-school mascot’s name. Nothin’. Harper tapped her nails on the keyboard as she racked her brain. She typed Jason. Then Meader. Jason Meader. The year he was elected. The year he would’ve been up for reelection. Argh! Come on, Harp. Think.
She backed out of the file. Start in the least obvious place. She looked at the file icons and clicked on the one named FAMILY PICS. She scrolled through the list of pictures, looking over the thumbnail icons that depicted a pretty happy-looking family. Vacations, soccer games, birthdays, and holidays. Her stomach rolled as she thought of the upheaval Ellis’s death must have caused for his wife and daughters. Her heart ached for them. A subfolder caught her eye, nestled between ARUBA VACATION and JANE’S DISTRICT SOCCER CHAMPIONSHIP. It was labeled BLAKE-SWAN LAKE. Holy crap. A lightbulb flashed in Harper’s mind and she was possessed with the urge to knock her head against the desk. Duh. She’d thought Ellis’s stuttering last words were blue lake. But that wasn’t it at all. She backed out of the file and reopened the one named Pandora. The passwords screen popped up and she typed BlakeSwanLake. The document sprang to life on her screen.
Apparently she’d been barking up the wrong tree all along. She’d thought what Senator Ellis had given her was a lead to something she’d find in public records or title deeds. But what he’d given her was simply a password. The key to unlocking the door of his secrets and guilt. The amount of information contained in the protected files was totally overwhelming. It would take a week or longer to weed through it all as she made sense of the transactions that looped this way and that in an effort to cover Ellis’s tracks.
Harper had been suspicious of Ellis’s dealings with the firefighters’ union for months, but seeing it in black-and-white didn’t make it any less shocking. She’d assumed there’d been some palm greasing, favors exchanged, weight thrown around for the benefit of the interested parties, but she never would have guessed the scandal was quite so big. Or so completely unrelated to the fire service.
The scandal had nothing to do with union corruption, though the state fire marshal had his hand in the cookie jar. From the looks of it, Ellis had helped the firefighters’ union to arrange for a vote several months back that would allow them to opt out of Social Security in lieu of their own retirement programs. By doing so, the government would be required to pay back any and all Social Security payments for the past ten years to a ton of firefighters totaling close to five million dollars. As Harper read on, her jaw dropped. Half of the money recovered from the Social Security payments was supposed to go back to the individual fire districts for them to reinvest on behalf of the firefighters. But instead someone had found out a way to sneak off with almost two and a half million dollars of the firemen’s money and Mark Ellis helped to set it up.
Holy. Shit.
Ellis had obviously gotten in way over his head. According to the documents, Ellis was using a state fire program called the Mobile Hazard Assessment to embezzle the money. A program funded through the state to provide top-of-the-line technology to help firefighters assess dangerous situations as they were happening and form a plan of attack before arriving on scene. The program was funded through grants managed by the state, and since the state was also managing the Social Security refunds, it was easy to shift the money from one account to another. But when the guilt became too much for him, he’d cracked. His partners must not have appreciated the fact that he was going to blow the whistle on all of them. Harper scanned the documents. She recognized their names. Rick Kremer, Oregon’s deputy fire marshal, Melissa Swinson, an employee at the state controller’s office, and well, whaddya know. Jason Meader.
The four of them had managed to keep their secret until Ellis had cracked. But the thing about keeping a secret: once more than one person was in the loop, it wasn’t a secret anymore. When Harper turned this over to Curt or Agent Davis, they’d investigate, continue to keep Ellis’s dirty dealings on the down-low while they ferreted out all of the guilty parties and their associates, down the line until the last man or woman was arrested. It could take months, maybe even a year for the FBI to conclude their investigation. Nothing would change. Her life would still be in danger, she and Galen would have to sneak around and keep their involvement from everyone, and she’d be living out of a duffel bag at the Comfort Inn for months or until they decided to throw her fully into witness security. And if that happened, she’d lose everything: her family, friends, job, even her name. There’d be nothing left. Maybe not even Galen.
She refused to let a bunch of murdering, embezzling assholes dictate the course of her life. Harper had already gained national attention being caught up in this mess, and she was going to make good use of the spotlight while it was shining. By the time she was through, there’d be nothing to cover up. Everyone would know the truth. Obviously Meader and his cronies didn’t read comic books. You should never, ever piss off Lois Lane.
Galen had never much thought about his sex life. He wanted it. He went out after it. He got laid and moved on. But with Harper . . . Holy. Fuck. Her mouth, her body, the tight, wet warmth that enveloped him, the sound of her passionate cries as she came. Even now, the memory of being with her made his cock as hard as stone. The memory of their night together a year ago paled in comparison to what they’d shared over the past couple of days.
Galen lifted his head off the pillow. The morning outside was gray and gloomy, but he figured they had another hour or so together before the world joined the weather outside to rain on his parade. It violated his sense of honor to lie to his superior. To keep secrets of any kind. Though Galen found that, when it came to Harper, he was more than willing to throw his convictions out the window and stomp all over the smashed remains. Was that what it felt like to love someone? After living through the drama of his parents’ relationship, Galen had abandoned any notion of love. But the way he felt about Harper . . . the way he wanted to protect her and shelter her. To never be away from her for even a moment. Warmth blossomed in his chest when he thought of her brilliant smile, the softness of her skin, or her fiery personality. Did loving Harper mean that he could easily become a compromising man as long as the only thing he was uncompromising about was her? Yes, he decided as he held her in his arms. That’s exactly what it meant.
He was in love with Harper.
Harper rolled onto her back and Galen propped himself up on an elbow so he could look down at her. The sheet slid away from her body, revealing one supple breast. He itched to touch her, to take her dusky pink nipple into his mouth and tease it with his tongue and teeth. Instead, he blew lightly on her skin and her flesh puckered tight. The sight of it made his balls grow tight and he rolled his hips into her, swallowing down a moan when the engorged head of his cock brushed against her silky soft bare skin.
“Just what do you think you’re doing, Deputy Kelly?” Harper asked sleepily. Her eyes remained closed and her face soft as though still asleep. But her hand wandered between his thighs and Galen sucked in a breath as she took him in her hand and stroked his length. “Doesn’t it violate some code of honor to seduce a woman before she’s fully awake?”
He bent down and kissed right above her collarbone and over the swell of her breast. Harper arched into his touch as she continued to stroke him. “You said yesterday that I had no honor.” He took her pearled nipple into his mouth and sucked, eliciting a low moan from Harper. “I’m simply living up to your expectations of me.”
She opened her eyes and put her palm to his chest, urging him back. “You know I didn’t mean that, right?” Had it only been yesterday that they’d argued in her apartment? It felt like years. Her expression grew serious, her brow furrowed. “I was being stupid and immature.”
Galen hushed her with a kiss. “Everything that happened yesterday before I got you naked is a little fu
zzy in my memory,” he murmured against her mouth. “And I want you naked as often as possible from here on out.”
He rolled Harper onto her back and settled himself between her thighs. The ridge of his cock brushed up against her sex and her legs fell open as she thrust her hips up to rub her already wet and swollen sex against him. One more motion like that and Galen wouldn’t be the honorable, prepared deputy he proclaimed himself to be. Before he could reach for the cardboard box on the nightstand, Harper turned the tables on him, wrapping her legs around his torso and rolling him on his back. She bent over him and placed a slow, soft kiss on his mouth before venturing farther down, across his jawline, down his neck and chest, over his abs, as she worked her way down his body.
“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 t
he 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.”
