by Amy Cook
Harley sighed heavily, thumb rubbing across her cheek, letting the matter go for now. “What did he tell ya?”
“He told me they had very firm suspicions that my mother killed our butler. He was a good friend of mine, and apparently Jaron’s. He was a soldier, but came undercover to look out for me because Jaron was worried about me.” Her eyes narrowed angrily as she thought back on the conversation with her mother.
“I confronted her on it, and she didn’t even bother to contradict me. I saw it in her eyes, how much she enjoyed killing him. She knew we were close, and she hated it. And that makes me worry about what she will do, if she finds out that I have someone else I care for much more.”
Harley’s eyes softened, and he rubbed a thumb across her bottom lip. “You sayin’ ya like me, kid?”
“Maybe. I’m not telling you,” she teased, pressing closer.
“Pretty sure I could get an answer outta ya.” Harley’s eyes darkened in that way she loved, their connection practically purring with pent-up need to show her the ways he could get those answers. She shuddered, delicious goose bumps skittering across her skin.
“We’ll figure this out; weather the storm together,” he promised, voice gentle, though the Hybrid in his eyes was fierce with its own promise.
“Are you sure you don’t want to run for the hills?”
“I ain’t too keen on runnin’, remember? And I’m never runnin’ from ya again,” he promised, hands falling to her waist, holding her to him. “Besides, mothers are always a lil crazy, kid. Seems to be a requirement these days. No amount of crazy’s gonna stop me from bein’ with ya.” His smoldering eyes gripped hers as his hands shifted; one lingering at her hip, the other moving to toy with the metal tab of the zipper at her throat.
“Don't you go worryin’ your pretty little head about your ma, Thumbelina. I’m tougher than hell, and I’ve got a bunker full of better weapons than her, too, I’d wager. Best of all, I got this pretty cool little sidekick. We can take her.” He winked, a proud glimmer in his eye. Amiel’s shoulders relaxed, and she leaned forward, letting her forehead fall against his chest. She melted into him as he carefully draped his arms around her, surrounding her with his warmth and scent. Releasing a contented sigh, she snuggled closer. He chuckled.
“Don’t go fallin’ asleep on me now, kid. We ain’t even had the turkey yet.” Placing a sweet kiss on the top of her head, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back toward their bikes. She didn’t miss the way his careful eyes darted about their surroundings, always ensuring they were safe. If she weren’t so in tune with him, she likely would have missed it. But his never-ending vigil, his constant, seemingly unconscious, surveillance of their surroundings, was one of the many things she loved about the big lug. She never had to doubt her safety when Harley was near.
“Did you say we’re having turkey?” She grinned up at him.
“Yep, best derned turkey in the country.” He stopped at his bike, hesitating. “Ride with me tonight?” His request was quiet, questing. She loved that he was always so careful not to stomp on her independence. The only time he’d ever come close to stomping it was over the matter with the tattoo, and she understood why he had.
“Sure. As amazing as my bike is, it will be nice to have a space heater on the ride over.” Nervous butterflies flopped around in her stomach as he leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to her nose before grabbing her new helmet and sliding it down on her head. His nose scrunched in that entirely adorable way of his as he concentrated, fastening the straps beneath her chin.
“So where are we going?” She spoke in a muffled tone through the visor. He smiled, popping her visor up.
“Say what?”
“Where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise.” Harley chuckled, swinging a leg over the bike and then offering a hand to her. She stared at it for a long moment, feeling her cheeks flush. It was a simple gesture, a gentlemanly one. But somehow the playful air evaporated with that one movement and she found herself wrapped up in that heavy atmosphere, thick with unspoken and longed-for things. Very softly placing her hand in his, she swept her gaze upward to meet his.
He stared back at her with those dark Hybrid eyes, intense and heated. Other hand rising to touch his shoulder, Amiel used both grips to steady herself as she swung up behind him. Instantly she slid forward on the seat, the bike’s build making for a very intimate ride ahead. Her heart pounded in her chest.
If she were honest, she had been a little sad now that she had her new bike. She’d gotten spoiled, riding with him for so long. She loved riding with Harley: being able to wrap her arms around his solid core, hands resting low on his abs, thighs pressed tightly up against the backs of his as he zipped through the streets of night. She loved that she was getting to ride with him again, even though she had her own bike. And now, with their new relationship progression, she could enjoy the sensations of being so close to him without worrying he’d think she was being a creeper. Her heart flew into overdrive when he slid her hands up under the hem of his jacket, her palms pressing against his hard abs. This was new.
“Gonna be a cold ride, darlin’. What kind of space heater would I be if I let your fingers get frostbite before we ate,” he murmured, voice dark, an underlying current of pleasure rippling along the connection promising there was more to it than Harley was admitting. He was enjoying this just as much as she was. Amiel smiled, heat flushing her cheeks. She had gloves in her pockets. They both knew this. Neither of them bothered to mention it.
“Thanks.”
He gave a curt nod before the bike took off. The cold didn’t faze her one little bit the entire ride. She drank in his scent, his warmth, the way his abs tightened in reaction to each tiny movement of her hands. She bit her lip, enjoying this fragile new relationship they were building. Amiel felt a mixture of the need to nervously look about for her mother on the prowl and to simply sit back enjoying the amazing feeling of holding Harley so close. She chose Harley, just as she knew she would with every choice ever placed before her from now on. She snuggled closer, and one of his hands fell to rub over hers through the thick leather of his jacket.
Chapter 48
Amiel
They pulled up to a stop before a small house painted a cheery yellow with white shutters. A small, white picket fence surrounded the property, which bore multiple twirling pinwheel fans in the yard. A few other tinkling trinkets hung from trees and the porch roof. Amiel grinned, immediately loving the homey appeal of this little building. She already knew this wasn’t just a house, it was a home.
Amiel climbed off the bike, removed her helmet and looked around. The neighborhood was a small, provincial-looking place, and though all the houses looked nice enough, none of them seemed to match the appeal of the home before her.
“Where are we?”
Harley’s hand pressed against her lower back as he stood at her side, a proud, albeit oddly nervous, expression on his face.
“This is my gran’s house. Most of my family is in there.”
Amiel’s brow rose in surprise. She knew he had other family, of course, but to actually make a physical connection with the idea of it suddenly seemed too surreal. Harley was such a solitary figure; connecting him to family, meeting that family, was an interesting sensation.
“It’s very… yellow,” Amiel said, feeling slightly lightheaded.
“When life gives ya lemons…,” Harley joked. “Gran thinks the color keeps the Rabids away. That’s actually more due to the electrical perimeter than the color. But we let her think as she pleases.”
Amiel swallowed, looking toward the house. She wasn’t really paying attention to the color. She had bigger worries on her plate. What would it be like, being surrounded by family? By Harley’s family, no less. Would they approve of her?
“Is this okay? Should we go? We can go,” Harley murmured. Amiel immediately shook her head, grabbing his hand before he could retreat.
“No,
no! Really, I would love to meet your family.” She grinned brightly, despite her own nerves. “Thank you for bringing me.”
Harley stared at her momentarily, eyes conflicted. “To be honest, I ain’t been here in a long while,” he confessed. “I drive by often enough, to make sure the fences are still secured and stuff. But I never go in.”
Amiel’s eyes shifted toward the yard, searching for the invisible energy fields that Harley had obviously put in place for his grandma. Only a few presented themselves to her untrained eyes, the ones along the perimeter of the picket fence. She was sure that there were more hidden throughout the property.
Amiel turned back to look at Harley, tentatively searching their connection for his feelings. He didn’t resist her snooping, let her grope about freely, obviously finding this easier than speaking the words aloud. He was nervous about seeing everyone, especially his grandma. He avoided intimate connections when at all possible; Amiel knew this. Apparently his family wasn’t immune to the same treatment. Cajun and Tandy were the closest ones to him before Amiel came along. She could feel that it was easier for him, keeping people at arm’s length. Easier to lose them one day. Easier to protect his heart. Amiel smiled softly, carefully taking his hand and squeezing it.
“Families make everyone nervous. I hear it’s a requirement these days.” She winked, offering back similar advice to that which he’d given her about her mother. He chuckled softly, staring down at their joined hands.
“Come on, Superman. I believe I was promised world-renowned turkey tonight.” She let him feel her support, her promise to be one another’s strength that night. “I got your back.” She winked. “Unless you let me walk into those bug zappers. Then I might just feed you to the wolves.”
Harley got a mischievous look in his eye, moving to stand behind her and leaning close to whisper in her ear.
“Maybe you’re the turkey we’re eatin’. Barbeque style.” He playfully put his hands on her waist, pushing her along before him as though she were a human shield. She forced her muscles to relax, refusing to play along with his ploy.
“Nice try. Too bad I trust you too much to think you’d let me become barbeque. You’ve worked too hard to keep me alive, to simply eat me for Thanksgiving.”
Harley paused, large hands giving her waist a gentle squeeze, nose pressing to the hair over her ear.
“You’re right, you’re not the turkey. I turned off the zapper when we pulled up. Ya sure do make me hungry, though.”
Amiel’s breath caught as he quickly pulled away, grasping her hand and pulling her along as though he hadn’t just made her heart somersault to her knees. That boy would be her undoing. Harley grinned mischievously again, knowing exactly how he’d made her feel. Amiel suddenly felt the disorienting sensation of being watched. She turned about, eyes frantically searching the night streets. Harley paused, picking up on her body language.
“What’s wrong? Your tags actin’ up?”
“No. I just… feel like we’re being watched.”
Harley’s body relaxed, and he slowly turned her toward him. “I know you’re worried about your mama. But you’re a tough one. You've got too much of your brother’s soldier’s heart and courage in ya to let her stomp ya down for long.”
She felt her heart soar under his compliment and faith in her. She found herself drawn into him, leaning forward to rest her hands on his chest. His hands slid up the backs of her arms, gripping them lightly, holding her to him. Instantly the atmosphere supercharged, and her heart began racing to match it.
“You’re late!”
She blinked, looking toward the door to find Cajun standing in it. He wore his typical devil-may-care grin, though his eyes were drinking in the situation before him with curious wonderment. She blushed, shifting to move away from Harley. Harley didn’t budge, holding her close just as he had before the interruption. He stared deeply into her eyes, making a silent pledge that left her breathless. His lips tipped upward on one end.
“Yeah. My woman took forever gettin’ ready.”
Amiel’s eyes flew wide at Harley’s wording, and his eyes twinkled with that boyish mischief she loved. Turning, he led her in a stunned daze past Cajun. Cajun blinked in his own stupor as Harley slapped him on the shoulder.
“Uh… yeah,” Cajun stammered. “They tend to do that.” His brows lifted at Amiel, mouthing the word. Wow. Amiel ducked her head, blushing and holding tight to Harley’s arm as they entered his grandma’s house. She jumped slightly as Cajun yelled over top of her head.
“Harley’s finally here with his girlfriend!” Cajun ducked around Harley with a chuckle, dodging past as though afraid Harley would deck him. Based on the murderous look sent his way, Harley was on the verge of doing just that. He looked to Amiel, rolling his eyes before pulling her in further to his side with an arm around her waist.
“Brace yourself, Thumbelina.”
Her lips parted to ask what that meant, but words weren’t needed. Her answer came as people poured through different areas of the house, converging directly on the two of them. Harley didn’t even have a chance to introduce them to her, or their relationship to him, as they shook her hand, all speaking to her at once. Many of them patted Harley heartily on the back, others catcalled, poking fun at him for having his first girlfriend. Harley gruffly shook them off, but his cheeks carried a hint of blush. Amiel caught his eye and grinned. He offered a chagrined shrug before waving everyone off.
“All right already, enough. Let’s eat!” Mention of food worked like magic, dispersing the crowd and sending them hustling into what she could only assume to be the direction of the kitchen. Amiel giggled as Harley released a heavy sigh of relief.
“I can see how being here would be a bit overwhelming for you at times.”
Harley nodded, turning toward her. “I like my personal space. Personal space doesn’t exist here.” His fingers rose to unzip her jacket before turning to work on his own. Amiel couldn’t help the reappearance of her goofy grin. It seemed to be permanently etched into her face over the last few days. The zipper habit he’d formed was so endearing, the goofy grin couldn’t be avoided. It seemed to be his simple way of showing both his gentlemanly manners toward her and his gentle efforts to protect. Hybrids were interesting in that way, many of their mannerisms showing how they felt about those around them, the ranking in which they stood with them, etc. Harley always took care of her first, ensured she was safe and comfortable before looking to his own needs.
She shrugged out of her jacket, handing it to him when he turned back from placing his own on the overly burdened coat racks. Harley’s eyes drank her in, not even bothering to watch what he did when he placed her jacket on the rack. Her heart did a backflip as his eyes darkened, skimming over her from the straightened hair to the little black boots. If he kept this up, she was liable to have a heart attack before the night was through.
“Ya look amazin’, darlin’.”
Mouth suddenly very dry, Amiel forced it to form words. “I didn’t know where we were going. I probably should have worn something more formal or—” She stopped short as his hand slid to rest on her hip. He leaned closer, five o’clock shadow lightly brushing against her cheek, lips hovering over her ear.
“You’re perfect.” He placed her hand over his heart where she could feel its thunderous rate. “Perfect,” he repeated.
“Thank you,” she breathed, other hand unconsciously rising to rest on his chest with the first. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Superman.” Actually, he was smoking hot. She’d never seen him dressed in anything but jeans and a t-shirt. While he was still in a dark pair of jeans, the removal of his jacket revealed he was wearing a black button-up shirt, the top two buttons undone to reveal just the hint of a white tee beneath it. The man managed to make everything look good. He could wear a coat made out of road-killed skunks and still look amazing.
“Thanks,” he replied softly, swallowing hard. The strong muscles of his chest flexed beneath her
fingertips, and the butterflies in her stomach turned to bees, buzzing like crazy. He turned his head just enough that his nose slid across the edge of her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed when he drew in a deep breath, scenting her. Somehow that one action was so insanely sexy, it always went straight to her gut, and the buzzing kicked up a notch.
“Heaven help me, but ya always smell so good. It’s like it just gets better the more I smell ya.” His voice was deep, husky, and altogether irresistible. A shiver raced her spine, and she leaned closer still, pressing fully against his broad chest. Feeling strangely confident, she leaned near his ear and replied in much the same way as he just had.
“I’m kind of addicted to yours, too.”
Her own voice was breathy and not in the least bit as sexy as his, but the way he shivered made her think perhaps she hadn't totally failed at her attempted flirting. His arms slid around her, hands splayed across her back. One palm smoothed across her shirt, feeling the thin, silky material, before ending up in her hair. She sighed quietly as he ran his fingers through the long lengths of it. She'd never been one to like having her hair touched, but when Harley did it, it felt amazing. He pulled back slightly, running a handful of it through his fingers, over her shoulder.
“Nonsense! It ain’t you that smells so good. That’s the smell of my cookin’ that y’all are drinkin’ up.”
A commanding tone from the kitchen doorway made Amiel jump. She’d been so wrapped up in Harley, she hadn’t even noticed the old woman’s vigil. She was a small woman, probably only reaching five foot. Her hair was a shimmery silver, pulled back with two brown combs. She had clear, crisp blue eyes, and Amiel suddenly knew just where Tandy and Harley got those soul-searching depths. Harley cleared his throat, nodding to the woman.
“Gran.”
“About time y’all showed up, boy. I was bound to skin your hide and hang it to dry if ya skipped out on my turkey again.” She gave him a stern glare before hobbling closer. She waved impatiently for him to bend down closer so she could place a kiss on his cheek. The kiss was followed by a somewhat playful swat on the back of the head.
