Kendall was soundly asleep upstairs. Though he knew he could talk freely, Harry still took the precaution of walking outside with his phone. Unable to reach Charlie since the previous evening, he wanted to talk some sense into his cousin. After last night's close call, he couldn't risk another. Lance was dangerously unstable. Kenny wasn't getting within ten feet of him again.
"We have to tell her."
"She could blow the whole operation," Charlie fired back. "Wasting six months of effort."
"He practically called from her house, for God's sake."
"So– he's taking chances. That's what we wanted-"
"Not with Kendall's life," he interrupted.
For the sting to work, Charlie was adamant she couldn't know she was in danger. Lance's greed was an opportunity to trap him– with her as bait. Harry shook his head. "It's too risky. When I agreed to help I didn't know he-"
"She's been in danger since the beginning." The cop in Charlie voiced his objections over the ruination of a perfectly viable plan.
"What if this were Andrea we were discussing?"
"Then I'd be sweating this op as much as you. But even if she knew the reasons why, she'd still be in danger."
They debated for several useless minutes. Charlie's argument had merit. It was better to know what they were up against. Kendall would be safer now that they knew Barker's true intentions– frightening though they might be.
Harry couldn't shake the gnawing fear that something was about to go terribly wrong. "If he so much as touches her-" Swallowing around a knot of dread, he acknowledged the very real possibility. "There won't be a trial. There won't be any jail . . . because I'll kill him."
***
Seated at the table, Kendall sniffed appreciatively, watching Harry try not to burn the grilled cheese sandwiches.
"Was it my imagination or did I see one of your relatives here yesterday during all the excitement?"
"You mean Charlie?" His hand hesitated on the spatula.
"Yeah, Andrea's husband, right?" She remembered him from Jake's party.
"Uh-huh."
Fascinated, she watched Harry maneuver at the stove, the reflexive slide of sinewy muscle under firm skin, his strong capable hands equally at home finessing her dinner onto a plate as they had been stroking her body only an hour before. The sweet, dizzy knowledge that he was truly hers made her stomach flip-flop with newfound happiness.
"So, what was he doing here? Is he a cop?"
Harry shifted the sandwich from the griddle to her plate in one deft movement. "State police," he corrected. "He's an investigator."
"And he works out here? In my district?"
"I guess so." He pulled open the refrigerator door. "Orange juice okay for you?"
"Whatever you're having." She waved absently. "That's pretty amazing."
"What?"
"Your cousin. What are the odds he would respond to a call at my house? When I only just met him a couple weeks ago." Ken waited for him to set the plates down before continuing. "You must have been surprised to see him. Did you know Charlie worked out here?"
"I- uh– I don't know. I mean. . . It's never come up in conversation before." Traynor flashed her a distracted look, as though she'd interrupted him in the middle of balancing his checkbook. "Damn. . . I forgot the forks."
"It's okay. The salad will keep until tomorrow. I'm not very hungry." Ignoring her, Harrison returned to the silverware drawer, rummaging for salad forks.
"Babe, dig in or it'll get cold," he admonished.
"I was just waiting for you, Sugar," she teased, testing the word of endearment. She liked the way it sounded, liked the flash of surprise that lit his eyes even more.
"Sugar? I could get used to that." He nodded. "How about Stud?"
"Stud . . . hmmm, not bad," she agreed. "With those stitches you look like a pirate. Maybe toss in an eye patch? I think you'd look hot with an eye patch."
Harry nudged the fridge door shut, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "An eye patch? That would turn you on?"
Blushing furiously, Kendall shrugged. "It's the whole package. All those muscles . . . the stitches. And yeah, maybe an eye patch." She smirked. "Would you prefer a parrot on your shoulder?"
He winced. "Eye patch it is."
"How did Charlie know I was in trouble last night? Did you call him? I'm still fuzzy on the details. I remember going outside to find Lurch."
His easy smile disappeared. "What else do you remember?"
"I heard Lurch barking . . . and then . . . this weird laughter."
"Honey– why did you go? When you saw that door shattered?" He shook his head in disbelief. "And then . . . you went into the woods alone."
She noticed the edge to his voice and frowned. "Harrison, I've been in those woods a hundred times. I wasn't lost in a forest somewhere. I was behind my house."
"You should've waited. I was on my way home-"
"I didn't think," she admitted. "Lurch was gone. That's all I thought about."
"Kenny– do you realize what could have happened?"
The warm glow that had settled over her began to dissipate under his implacable stare. She'd made a mistake. They both knew it. Why was he overreacting? "Can't we forget about it?"
"No, we can't," he insisted. "What if you-" He shuddered. "The bastard who did this. . ." Harry motioned to the boarded up French door. "He's still out there somewhere. What if he comes back?"
Restless, Ken slid her plate back, appetite gone. He loves you, she reminded herself. That's why he was angry. And overprotective. But it almost seemed as though he blamed her for getting attacked. His accusation sounded dangerously similar to her father's complaints. How could she be at fault for something beyond her control? Swallowing her trepidation, she forced a semblance of calm. The last thing she wanted was an argument.
"He won't come back, Traynor. It was a fluke. Break-ins don't happen out here. Maybe once every ten years." Something in his eyes seemed to shutter and Ken nearly shivered at the bleakness she found there. As though an invisible wall had erected between them.
"What if it was Barker? Do you think he'll stay away?"
Releasing a sigh, the throb of unease subsided a bit. That's what he was worrying about? "Lance? Gosh, you had me nervous– I thought something was really wrong."
"Why don't you take him seriously, Ken? After all he's done . . . why do you have such a blind spot toward him?"
Standing beyond her reach, she stretched to touch his arm and felt the muscle jerk against her fingers. "Because he's getting everything he wants. I'm selling the company. When the deal goes through, he'll get his cut," she explained. "He doesn't deserve it. . . but I don't care anymore. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders." Her heart brimming, she raised her gaze to his. "I finally realize that selling doesn't mean failure. I have you to thank for that."
"Don't-" He winced. "I don't deserve it."
"You made me realize I have options. With the deal you struck for me, I'll have the freedom to explore something else. And you made sure I'll be able to take care of my employees. With the money from the sale, I'll be able to pay off all the suppliers and my crew."
Glancing up, Kendall smiled, embarrassed. But he'd helped her immeasurably– with no strings attached. Harrison helped people because he was able, not because he expected something in return. Even though the deal would help Specialty finish the project on time, he'd negotiated as though A & R belonged to him.
"I never would have haggled like you did. Because of you, my crew will have severance– enough to get back on their feet." Tears welling in her throat, she resolutely pushed them back. "For so long, I've had to do everything . . ."
He didn't appear to be softening. "I didn't do anything you couldn't have done on your own."
He was wrong. "I would have been too emotional." She shook her head. "For months, I've been devastated about giving up A & R– before you ever arrived," she reminded. "This company has been in my fa
mily for thirty years. As much as I've loved it . . . it's also been a noose around my neck."
No longer able to fight the tears, they spilled down her cheeks. "I don't want to waste any more time. The sooner I pay off Lance . . . the sooner he leaves." Her heart full after so many years of emptiness, Ken didn't know how to explain what she was feeling. "I want to get on with life. Our life."
"Even though, he's likely the one who stole from you? Even though he's practically forced you into bankruptcy?" Arms crossed defensively over his chest, the salad forks were still clenched in Harry's hand.
Her heart skipped several beats as she absorbed his belligerent tone. The silence lengthened as he stared at her, his expression one of frustrated disbelief. "When you say it that way, I sound stupid." Her face heated with anger. She'd just laid her heart on the table for him. She'd never confided in anyone before . . . had never trusted anyone enough to open up the way she had with Harrison. "What's your point?"
"That he's dangerous, Kenny." His eyes sparked with anger. "He nearly killed us both in that fire. I don't like that he's out there . . . somewhere."
"Somehow it's my fault Floyd didn't arrest him?"
Tossing the forks on the table, he stalked to the window, shocking her. His back rigid, she watched his reflection in the glass as he stared broodingly out into the night. Her heart pounding, she rose from the table.
"What is this really about, Harrison? Have I done something– already . . . to upset you?" She waited, the warm flame that only an hour earlier had burned happily in her chest, now sputtered in the sudden chill. Had he already changed his mind? Was he having second thoughts?
Dragging in a deep breath, she summoned the courage to endure the next few minutes. Praying for calm, she schooled her features blank, a defense mechanism she'd perfected the hard way at thirteen. If bullies didn't see their words upset you, they couldn't win. It had worked like a charm on the unmerciful kids at school– and her belligerent father. When he failed to get a rise, Ken, Sr. had quickly bored with tormenting her.
"Do you know something you're not telling me?"
Chapter 13
It was an eternity before he spoke. During his silence, Kendall's stomach clutched with dread. Life after her mother left town had been time spent in a perpetual state of limbo– never knowing what action on her part would set her father off– only certain something surely would. One day she was too noisy, clattering in the kitchen. The next . . . she was skulking around– trying to spy on him. Over the years, she'd finally given up trying to please the man who seemed to resent the very air she breathed.
"No . . . of course not," he finally answered, his voice still tinged with anger. "I hate knowing that bastard is getting away. Lance ruins your life . . . and he'll end up walking away with more money."
"If he hadn't ruined my life, I probably wouldn't have met you, right?" Ken forced a smile into her voice, one that didn't match the fingers of doubt beginning to claw her chest. Why was he so angry with her?
"Yeah. I'm a real prize." He shook his head derisively.
His tone sent a shiver down her spine. "Harrison? Tell me what's wrong because you're scaring me." She was glimpsing a side of him she'd never known existed. A side that made her wonder. And doubt. Had she made a colossal mistake? Had she traded her peaceful, settled existence for a new life that would mimic the misery she'd spent fifteen years trying to erase? A wave of raw terror swept over her. After all these years. . . after being alone for so long. . . had she given her heart to a man who would never be happy with her?
"I couldn't even protect you."
Relief flooded her, leaving her wobbly in its wake. Crossing the room, she wrapped her arms around him, desperate for the reassurance of his warmth. Resting her head against his back, she closed her eyes, still too upset to admit how frightened she'd been. For several minutes, he'd become a stranger . . . furious with her for reasons she didn't understand. She was again reminded of her father.
She'd learned to placate his anger . . . to swallow the inevitable disappointment when she'd failed his expectations. What she'd never learned to master was the overwhelming sense of dread– waiting for his criticism. Kendall had wanted reasons. How could she ever improve if she didn't know what she was doing wrong? Instead, her father hoarded them . . . doling out illogical rationalizations with a stinginess that succeeded in making her more anxious.
Harry isn't Dad. She'd never known a more compassionate and thoughtful man. Releasing a ragged breath, she willed herself to stay in control. "Please, let's not argue, okay? I made a mistake. I've been alone so long . . ." She'd never had someone care what happened to her. "I'll be more careful from now on."
"If anything ever happened to you. . ." Turning from the window, he slipped his arms around her. She went willingly, grateful the strange, tension-filled moment had passed. Still clutching her to him, his lips brushed her forehead before he rested his cheek against the top of her head. For a long time, they stood together in the darkened window, neither willing to break the strange spell.
***
Harry tightened his hold, wanting to absorb her into his skin. Wanting to place her in a protective bubble until this was over. For the first time– maybe ever . . . he was vulnerable– in a way he'd never imagined possible. This was not how love was supposed to feel. It was supposed to feel great. Instead– he felt weak. Exposed. Defenseless. And most of it– was his fault. For not telling Ken what she had every right to know.
Dammit, he should have told her. She'd opened the door to the truth . . . and he'd ignored it– his cousin's strident voice echoing in his head. Liar. His gut knotting with his deception, he would've felt a thousand times better if Ken knew what they faced.
Screw Charlie. Screw the investigation. His skin had crawled as he'd endured her praise. Thanking him for helping with her problems. The shards clawing his stomach grew sharper. If Ken knew what he'd really done, he'd be dodging her fists right now.
The irony wasn't lost on him. She'd finally opened up– in a way he'd only dreamed possible. She trusted him. With her heart. With her business. With her very life. And he repaid that faith by lying to her– about everything. About everything he knew to be important to her. And the betrayal was killing him. The kicker was– he sucked at it. Kendall already sensed something was wrong. She could feel the change in him. She just didn't know the source . . . didn't know he was being eaten alive with guilt.
He couldn't even reassure her– that it wasn't about him not loving her. He'd witnessed the fear in her eyes. Her love for him was so new . . . so fragile. Ken's instinct would tell her he'd changed his mind . . . or worse– that maybe he really was a jerk who'd break her heart and leave. And Harry couldn't deny any of it because it would require an explanation. Reasons were the last thing he could provide. Dammit, he couldn't even relieve her of the notion that she was imagining the change in him.
You should have told her. Still snuggled against his chest– the opportunity had clearly passed. "Babe . . . you haven't eaten all day. Let's see if those sandwiches are still edible."
Reluctantly he released her, giving her a little nudge toward the table and forcing a smile for her curious eyes. Jesus– he had to do a better job than this.
"I'm sure they're fine." She gave his arm a squeeze. "Let's sit down and eat."
***
They were seated on the deck, fingers linked, eyes lifted to the heavens, admiring the sweep of stars on the cool, clear night. Lurch flopped contentedly on the deck between their feet. Earlier in the day, Harrison had swept the debris and broken glass away. But just to be safe, he'd watched Kendall slip on a pair of sandals before agreeing to take her around back after dinner. She'd played the violin for him, captivating him with a lyrical, hopeful piece she'd been working on– one she'd actually written down. The realization that she'd taken his suggestion to heart made him smile.
Harry had regained his footing on the slippery slope of his life. Okay, so he couldn't tell Kendall what wa
s happening with the investigation. That didn't mean he couldn't shore up her confidence in him. It didn't mean he wasn't free to use every opportunity to remind her how much he loved her. Which in turn, he hoped, would reassure her that her feelings were accurate . . . that she hadn't made a mistake.
In turn, he had to trust Charlie. He had to have faith they would catch Barker. Kendall would be safe. The investigation would end– and all would be right with their world. Smiling in the dark, he brought her fingers to his lips.
"You've still never explained– how did Charlie know to come here? Did you get here first and call him?"
To his credit, Harry didn't startle as the lies surrounded him– closing in. "Yeah. I got here . . . saw the mess . . . and I called him." Cautiously, he repeated her words back. If he didn't embellish much, maybe he'd avoid trouble. "He was the first person I thought of."
"Then what happened?"
He sighed, not wanting to be on guard tonight. "We searched the house then went outside. I heard Lurch bark. . ." Harry paused when the dog raised his head, his eyes questioning. Reaching down, he scratched behind his ears.
"And?"
". . . we headed into the woods. We– I– found you in the clearing. You were unconscious," he recited carefully, aware of his pulse beginning to hammer in his ears. He would never erase the picture of her lying there. "I thought. . . "
"I remember you there."
"We got you out pretty quick." Once he'd started breathing again. "Took you to the hospital."
"So, what happens now?"
"Charlie's leading the investigation." Finally. Something he didn't have to lie about. "I've offered to help."
"Help?" Kendall focused those all-knowing eyes on him and he held his breath. "What can you do to help a police investigation?"
Christ, if she only knew. "Keep an eye on you for one thing. Make sure whoever did this doesn't get the opportunity again."
"Honey, it's not going to happen again. It was a-"
"Fluke. Yeah, I know. You're probably right. But I'm not taking any chances. Not with you."
Ken smiled then, a sweet, sunny smile that hit him squarely in the chest. The burst of warmth radiated outward to his limbs before the liquid heat traveled along his nerves, settling the tension that had begun to take root. When she finally returned her gaze to the stars, he released the breath he'd been holding.
Falling For Ken (Blueprint to Love Book 2) Page 21
