by Paula Graves
Harlan nodded. “Thank you.”
Then he was gone.
She lifted shaking hands to her face, pushing her hair away from her forehead. Tears hammered her eyes but she forced them to stay put. She wasn’t going to fall apart today. She’d made a decision, and she was strong enough to live with it.
All she had to do was get through this fundraiser and it would all be over.
WHEN HARLAN STOPPED BY the guesthouse later that afternoon, he already knew he wasn’t going to see Stacy. He’d spotted her thirty minutes ago, walking into the office area carrying a vinyl dress bag. Apparently she was going to get ready for the party at the main house.
He’d already donned his tuxedo during a quick trip home to his apartment for a shave and a shower. Zachary made a face when he spotted Harlan coming through the door. “You look like you’re going to a funeral,” Zachary commented. “Are you?”
He’d have about as much fun at a funeral, Harlan thought. He sat on the coffee table across from Zachary’s perch on the sofa. “No, just a party.”
“So’s Mommy. Are you going to the party with her?”
“We’ll both be at the party,” Harlan answered carefully.
“Will you and Mommy bring me cake from the party?”
“I’ll ask your mama for you.”
“You could bring it.”
Harlan slanted a quick glance at Charlotte Manning, who was watching them from the kitchen. He saw in her eyes a look of knowing sadness that convinced him Stacy had warned her why he’d be stopping by. He supposed Charlotte would need to be in the loop, since she’d have to spend the rest of the night with Zachary once the goodbyes were said.
He looked back at Zachary. “I won’t be coming back, Zachary. My job is over tonight, and you and your mama will have the place to yourselves again.”
Zachary looked puzzled. “But you moved in.”
“Only for a little while. I have to go back to my own place. My furniture misses me. Just like the horses miss you when you don’t go ride.”
“You can come see me ride, right? Your furniture can let you come see me ride.”
Harlan’s heart felt as if it had ripped in two, pain bleeding into his chest. “I’ll talk to your mama about that.” He reached out and smoothed a spiky strand of hair on Zachary’s head. The child didn’t flinch, a sign of his trust in Harlan. “Listen here, Zachary, I’m going to ask you to do something for me, okay? It’s real important.”
Zachary nodded. “Okay.”
“I want you to take real good care of your mama. You watch after her and be real good to her, for me.”
“Okay,” Zachary answered solemnly.
“And if either one of you ever need anything, you ask for me, okay? ’Cause I’ll come running if you need me.”
Zachary nodded again. “You’ll come running.”
Harlan reached across and pulled the little boy into a fierce hug. After a couple of seconds, Zachary started struggling.
“One, two, three, let go!” he said indignantly.
Harlan let him go. “Sorry. Next time I’ll count.” He headed for the door before he started doing something embarrassing, such as blubbering like a baby.
He turned in the doorway to get one last look at Zachary. The little boy had already lost interest in Harlan, taking his goodbye at face value, and was playing with a couple of toy horses on the coffee table.
But Charlotte Manning was watching him with shining eyes. He gave her a quick nod goodbye and left the house, trotting down the porch steps before he changed his mind and went back.
With each step he took up the path to the main house, he felt as if he was leaving behind the only life that would ever make him happy.
STACY STRAIGHTENED HER DRESS and took a deep breath before stepping out of the governor’s personal library onto the open gallery that circled the ballroom one story below. Guests had started arriving a few minutes ago, but she still had time to make a quick run down to the guesthouse to check on Zachary and Charlotte before the fundraiser went into full swing.
Unfortunately, the ground rules Harlan had set stated that any staffer leaving the main house had to check in with him first so he could alert the perimeter guards.
She found him only a few feet down the gallery, standing at the balcony that overlooked the main floor. The spacious ballroom was the one interior room that looked as if it belonged within the Italianate villa exterior of the Twin Harts ranch house. Oval-shaped, flanked by eight tall white columns supporting the open gallery on the second floor and decorated in neutral shades of white, cream, gold and peach, the ballroom looked like something out of an old movie.
About twenty early arrivals milled about the ballroom, chatting and enjoying the champagne and hors d’oeuvres several white-jacketed waiters offered on shiny silver trays.
Like the rest of the security agents, Harlan was dressed in a simple black tuxedo with a necktie in lieu of a more formal bow tie. He’d shaved since she’d spotted him on her way into the ranch house earlier that afternoon. In fact, he looked completely edible, and she didn’t know how she was going to get through the rest of the night without making a fool of herself.
He turned at her approach, his eyes darkening with a pure, feral hunger that seemed to match her own. “Stacy.”
She swallowed hard. “Just the man I was looking for.”
She saw a flicker of hope in his eyes and realized he thought she had sought him out for personal reasons.
She hadn’t, had she?
“I need clearance from you to leave the ranch house,” she said aloud. “I want to run down to check on Zachary and Charlotte before the party gets into full swing.”
“Why don’t I get one of the agents to walk you over there?” he asked, looking uneasy.
“It’s not necessary,” she said.
He lowered his voice. “The danger isn’t over yet, Stacy. Don’t let anything that went on between the two of us make you forget that.”
“I haven’t.” She softened her voice. “I appreciate your concern about me. And Zachary.”
He leaned closer. “When this party’s over, I want to talk to you. Can I come over tonight?”
Temptation burned low in her belly. But she forced herself to shake her head. “Not a good idea.”
“Then tomorrow. Let me come by tomorrow.”
“Harlan-” She could feel herself crumbling, and it scared her to death.
“Okay. I’ll call ahead and let them know you’re coming.”
She started to walk away, then turned to look at him, unable to cut herself off from him completely. “Maybe we could have coffee at Talk of the Town in a couple of days.”
That was noncommittal, wasn’t it? She could change her mind if she wanted to.
He smiled. “That sounds good. You have my number.”
She returned the smile tentatively and escaped downstairs, her cheeks burning. Greeting a few of the early arriving guests, she weaved her way to the side exit and stopped there for a moment, looking back at the second floor gallery.
Harlan still stood at the railing, watching her.
Her face burning, she headed outside into the cool night.
She knew Jeff Appleton was the agent guarding the checkpoint outside the guesthouse, since he’d asked Charlotte to watch Abby along with Zachary. But he wasn’t at his post when she reached the checkpoint.
Had he gone into the house to check on Abby? A breach of security protocol like that didn’t sound much like Jeff, but he was pretty crazy about his kid.
She’d left her keys back at the ranch house, locked in Lila’s office, so she knocked on the door and waited for Charlotte to answer.
But it wasn’t Charlotte Manning who opened the door.
It was Trevor Lewis.
“UNIT SEVEN TO UNIT ONE. We need backup!” Vince Russo’s voice barked in Harlan’s ear as he watched the governor readying herself to climb the shallow steps of the riser holding a delicate brass podium from which she
’d speak in a minute or two.
“Unit Seven, what’s the situation?” He stepped back into an alcove, not wanting to raise alarm among the guests gathered on the ballroom floor.
“Black bloc action on the protest front. They’re overrunning the perimeter guards. We need at least three or four more bodies to get them back in line!”
Harlan radioed the other checkpoints that had multiple guards and peeled off three agents to head for the south gate, where the governor had provided a cordoned-off protest area.
He kept a close eye on the ballroom as he did so, not liking the timing of the sudden eruption from the protestors. He couldn’t pour all his attention and resources into quelling the protestors-they could be a decoy designed to draw his attention away from the governor.
He headed toward the governor. “Ma’am, we have a situation.” He told her what was happening. “I think we need to consider evacuating the guests from the ballroom.”
“Surely you’re overreacting-”
“Harlan!” A high-pitched, unmistakable voice rose over the murmur of the crowd, drawing Harlan’s attention away from the governor. He scanned the crowd for a face he knew couldn’t possibly be there.
But there he was, only a few yards away, looking tiny and rumpled in his pajamas with the yellow ponies galloping over a blue field. Zachary spotted Harlan and crossed the floor as fast as his slipper-clad feet would take him.
“Unit Two, Unit Six, cover Cowgirl,” Harlan said into the headset, referring to the governor, as he hurried to meet Zachary halfway. The fear in the boy’s eyes made his gut twist.
“You said to find you if Mommy needed you,” Zachary said, out of breath. “I ran all the way here to look for you.”
“Where’s your mama?”
“At home. You have to come.”
Three fast cracking noises split the air. Around them, people started screaming and running.
Gunfire.
Chapter Seventeen
Curling himself around Zachary to keep the child from being hit by gunfire or trampled by the crowd, Harlan located the governor’s position. Parker McKenna was blocking her body with his, while Nolan Law was covering Bart Bellows in his wheelchair as the agents hustled them both out the side exit, probably to the armored SUV parked outside for just such a contingency.
Relieved on one point, Harlan scanned the gallery above. The shots had come from that direction.
There. He saw movement behind one of the columns. A man dressed in all black, his face covered with a ski mask.
“All units, gunman on the second floor gallery, west section.” He picked Zachary up and carried him beneath the overhang created by the second floor walkway, below the gunman’s position. A doorway nearby led into the governor’s office. He dug the keys to the office from his pocket and took Zachary inside. “Zachary, listen-you know how important promises are, right?”
Zachary was crying, but he nodded.
“Promise you’ll stay here until I come get you. Promise?”
Zachary nodded again.
Zachary kissed the little boy’s forehead. “I love you, little man. Stay right here and I’ll be back to get you. I promise.”
“Promises are important,” Zachary said on a soft hitching sob.
“That’s right.” Harlan slipped out the door on the opposite side of the office, locking it behind him.
Listening to the radio chatter to get his bearings, he tried to anticipate where the gunman might go now that he’d been thwarted in his quest to shoot the governor. But all he could think about was what Zachary had said to him just before the shots rang out. You said to find you if Mommy needed you.
When was the last time he’d seen Stacy? When she headed to the guesthouse to check on Zachary and the others?
“Unit Ten, this is Unit One.” Unit Ten was Jeff Appleton, the deputy in charge of guarding the guesthouse. He’d talked to Appleton right before Stacy left so he’d know she was coming.
Had he talked to him since?”
“Unit Ten, please respond.”
Nothing.
Fear settled in the center of Harlan’s chest, heavy as lead. “Unit Seven, Unit Ten is not responding.”
“Unit One, can’t check. All hell’s broken loose out here.”
“All units, Unit One going to check on Unit Ten. Keep looking for the gunman.”
He headed for the side exit, keeping an eye out for the gunman who’d opened fire in the hall. Panicked guests were being herded out of the ballroom doors a few yards to the north, while other security units were scouring the ranch house in search of the shooter.
How the hell had the man in black gotten past the checkpoints to get inside? They had metal detectors set up at all the main entrances-any weapon should have been caught on the scan.
He set that question aside and concentrated on making a quiet approach toward the checkpoint outside the guesthouse. It was empty, he saw to his surprise, but he heard a soft moaning sound coming from somewhere to his left.
Sidetracking, he nearly stumbled over something lying on the shadowy ground beneath a tall cottonwood tree. Flashing the penlight on his key ring onto the ground, he saw Jeff Appleton lying on his side, bleeding from his head. His eyes were fluttering, as if he was trying to regain consciousness.
His sidearm was missing.
“Appleton, it’s McClain.” Harlan crouched by the man, scanning the area to make sure he wasn’t being lured into an ambush. There were no strange sounds, no sign of any furtive movements around him. “Can you hear me?”
Appleton’s eyes flickered open. “McClain.” He winced, touching his hand to his bleeding head.
“Who hit you?”
“Got me from behind.” He blinked hard and tried to sit up, groaning at the effort.
“Don’t move-I’ll call for a medical unit.”
“Wait.” Appleton grabbed Harlan’s arm. “Trevor Lewis.”
Harlan frowned at him. “What about Lewis?”
“Before I got knocked out, I spotted Lewis heading for the house. It was just after you radioed me to tell me Stacy was coming.” His grip on Harlan’s arm weakened. “He had…a key…” His eyes fluttered shut. He was still breathing and still had a strong, steady pulse, Harlan saw with relief. He eased the man to the ground and radioed in his position.
“Unit Ten is down. Need medical assistance.” His gaze slid to the quiet facade of Stacy’s home, his heart pounding a cadence of pure terror. “We may have a hostage situation at the guesthouse.”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Stacy fought to keep her voice low and calm, even though panic screamed through every cell of her body. Where was Zachary? She’d seen him for a split second when she came into the house, before Trevor locked her son and Jeff Appleton’s little girl, Abby, in Zachary’s bedroom and told them to stay there.
She’d heard Abby crying inconsolably off and on for the past half hour, but not a peep from Zachary.
How would a kid with Asperger’s react to something this unexpected and strange? Shut down and pretend it wasn’t happening? It was possible.
She hoped that was the answer. If he shut down, then maybe he wasn’t living through the terror that poor Abby Appleton seemed to be experiencing at the moment, her cries rising from inside the locked bedroom.
Trevor sat on one of the bar stools, his posture almost relaxed, though the pistol he held pointed at Charlotte’s bound, gagged figure belied any sort of calm on his part. “I’m waiting for the signal.”
“What signal?”
“I’ll know it when I hear it. Then we can get Zachary and go.” He shot a look at Charlotte, who was gazing at him with wide, terrified eyes. “I’m not going to hurt you if everyone just cooperates. I just came for Stacy, but we have to wait for the signal before we can go.”
“What about Deputy Appleton? What did you do to get past him?” Stacy asked.
“I didn’t do anything,” Trevor answered, but the emphasis he put on the first word provided a frightening c
lue. If he hadn’t done anything to Jeff, did he have an accomplice who had?
“Where do you plan to take Zachary and me?” she asked aloud.
“Did you know my family has money?” Trevor smiled at her. “Lots of it. I got the bulk of an inheritance from my grandfather when I turned twenty-five. Last year, I bought a small horse ranch in Colorado. You and Zachary will love it there. He’ll have horses to ride whenever he wants to, and you can stop worrying so hard about making ends meet.” Trevor rose from the chair and crossed to where she sat on the sofa. He sank onto the coffee table, reaching across to touch her cheek. “I just want to take care of both of you. You haven’t had anyone to do that for you since your husband left, have you?”
A picture of Harlan flashed in her head. Strong, solid Harlan, who loved her son and seemed to want more from her than she was brave enough to give him. He’d take care of her and Zachary, if she needed him to, but he respected her ability to take care of herself and her son on her own.
The comparison to the crazy man sitting in front of her with his gun still held at the ready was enough to bring stinging tears to her eyes. But she held them back, refusing to let the fear make her weaker.
Harlan would realize she hadn’t returned to the party, sooner or later. He knew where she’d been going when she left the ranch house. He’d come looking.
She just had to stay alert, listen for signs of his arrival. If she could distract Trevor at just the right time-
“Zachary’s being awfully quiet.” Trevor pushed himself to his feet, reaching down to catch her wrist. “Let’s go check.”
She shook her head, not wanting her son to see her being held at gunpoint. “You know Zachary. He’s probably caught up in reading one of his horse books.”
“He’s probably hungry, don’t you think?” He glanced at the counter, where the half-eaten remains of vegetable soup sat cooling in bowls. “I interrupted dinner, I’m afraid.”
He dragged her down the hall to Zachary’s bedroom, untying the shoestrings he’d used to secure the door closed by tying it to Stacy’s bedroom doorknob. At the rattle of the doorknob, Abby Appleton started crying again.
