by Lori Foster
It made her feel better.
Were they doomed? Why did things only happen when she was with Harley? Was it a warning of some kind?
He shook hands with the other man and returned to the Charger. He examined the windshield with obvious disgust.
When he got in the car, she saw the fury that he tried hard to conceal.
“What was it?”
“A dog.”
Covering her mouth with a hand, Stasia fought tears. “Dead?”
“Don’t get upset, honey. It’s been dead for a while. Hell, it’s frozen solid.”
Her hand slid away. “But…what?”
“We didn’t hit a live animal.” He slowly inhaled, and let the breath out with ebbing rage. With approaching police lights reflected in his eyes, Harley locked his gaze on hers. “Someone threw a frozen chunk of roadkill at my car.”
So many possibilities raced through Stasia’s mind, she couldn’t grab and hold a single one. One police car parked behind them, and another stopped near the dead, frozen animal.
That poor creature. She had such a special fondness for animals that it didn’t matter if the dog had been killed in the street days or even weeks before. It was dead, and that was all that mattered to her heart.
But tears now wouldn’t make the situation any easier for Harley, or help her in explaining a few things to the officers.
Harley reached for her hand. “We need to step out. You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” She opened her seat belt and got out of the car just as the first officer reached Harley’s side of the car. She circled the hood to join them, and waited while Harley explained what had happened.
The officer called it in, asked them to wait, and wandered off to do a cursory inspection of the area.
Harley put an arm around Stasia. “Warm enough?”
“I’m fine.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“Are your legs cold?”
She flashed him a fleeting smile. “You’re far too preoccupied with my legs, Harley. Most women have them, you know.”
“Yours are very sexy.”
Despite everything currently happening, it made Stasia feel good to get the compliment. While shopping with Jasmine, she’d bought the flattering denim pencil skirt. The hem hit just above her knees. She wore dark hose and ankle-strap shoes with it, and topped it off with a body-hugging white turtleneck. The outfit was stylish, warm, and flattered her figure.
Teasing Harley, she said, “You asked me to wear a skirt, so I did. I didn’t realize it was just so you could see my legs.”
“Actually…” He kissed her ear and whispered, “I was hoping to get my hands under your skirt when I made the suggestion.” He leaned back. “But that thing fits you like a second skin. Looks great, but it sure wouldn’t make it easy to cop a feel.”
The pounding of her heart stole her breath.
Putting his forehead to hers, Harley said, “Had I known we’d be out in the cold again, I’d have told you to bundle up in jeans and boots.”
She slipped her arms inside his coat, around his waist. “Harley, I have to tell you something.”
The officer returned. “Sorry, folks. I looked around, but there’s really not much to see. I spoke briefly with the other drivers who stopped, but they saw what you saw—something coming toward your car.”
“A dead dog didn’t run in front of us.”
“I’d say not.” The officer tapped a pad of paper to his thigh. “But whoever dumped it on your car is long gone. I’d say it was a prank.” He looked at them. “Unless either of you has another suggestion?”
Harley started to say something, and Stasia stepped forward, away from his protective arm. “Actually, yes, I know someone who might dislike me enough to do such a thing.”
Behind her, she could feel Harley’s sudden tension.
The officer pushed back his hat. “Let’s hear it.”
Memories swamped in on her, compressing her lungs, burning her stomach.
Harley’s hand enclosed hers, and that helped more than she wanted to admit. “I’m a life coach, which means I work closely with people to advise them on lifestyle decisions.”
The officer was polite, but she could tell he didn’t get it.
“My last male client misunderstood my intent. He…he thought I was emotionally involved, that I cared for him beyond a client.” That sounded awful, even to her, so she rushed to her own defense. “I’m very careful to explain the boundaries up front, and I never, ever socialize with clients. I’m there when they need me, and I sometimes observe them in routine activities, but I don’t partner with them.”
The cop shifted his stance, hands on his hips, brow puckered.
Anxious to get it over with, Stasia said, “When he offered to leave his wife for me, I tried to set him straight. He…he didn’t take it well. For a while he was a real nuisance, calling my business line all the time, trying to follow me home.” She rubbed her forehead. “The last time I saw him, he called me awful names and blamed me for his ruined marriage.”
“Do you know where this guy is now?”
Stasia shook her head. “Not really, but his wife was…” She couldn’t get the words out. It hurt so much, just remembering.
Harley’s hand squeezed hers again. “She was what?”
“Hospitalized. After everything that happened, she threatened to commit suicide. It was awful. And Larry made sure I got every little detail of the whole ordeal.” Her stomach churned. “I don’t know if they ever got back together, because I just stayed away. I was afraid any concern on my part would be misinterpreted by him again.”
The cop became all business. “Okay, give me his name and the name of the hospital where his wife was at. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Larry Grimes. His wife was Eloise.” She shared the other details she could remember, and all the while, she prayed it wasn’t Larry.
If that whole nightmare started again, she didn’t know what she’d do.
It was another hour before Harley’s car was towed away to get the windshield repaired and they’d retrieved his Jeep to drive instead. Stasia stayed silent, and Harley didn’t press her.
“You still feel like dinner?”
She glanced at the Jeep’s clock. “If we go out now, we’ll miss Jasmine’s performance.”
“So do you want to just grab a bite at the bar? It won’t be anything fancy, just a cold sandwich or maybe barbecue. But it’s not bad.”
“That suits me just fine.”
Harley drove toward the bar. “I wish you’d told me sooner just how deranged that creep really is.”
“There wasn’t any point.”
“No? What about your brakes? What about almost being run over?”
She shook her head. “I can’t imagine Larry having any part of that. Until he flipped out on me, he seemed like such a nice guy. A laid-back, normal guy.”
“Yeah, a real prince.”
She chided him. “Don’t be sarcastic, Harley. I’m not in the mood.”
He fell silent again.
Stasia hated it. “I’m sorry. I guess I should have considered the possibility more seriously earlier. But it’s not something I like to dwell on. I’d prefer to think what happened at Echo Lake was a prank gone wrong, as the officials suggested.”
“And tonight?”
“I just don’t know. If it isn’t all related, it’d be one hell of a coincidence.” And she couldn’t convince herself of that.
Harley pulled into the bar parking lot and turned off the engine. When he faced her, he said, “It’s not your fault, you know.”
“That’s the thing about blame, Harley. It’s sometimes hard to pinpoint. Is it Larry’s fault that he was so desperately unhappy, he misunderstood my intent? Was it his wife’s fault for not making Larry happier? Her fault that she couldn’t cope and would rather be dead than lose a man who didn’t love her anymore, had maybe
never really loved her?”
“Maybe,” he said, “it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just is.”
She’d never get a better lead-in than that. “Like you missing the first three opportunities to fight for the belt?”
He withdrew in a heartbeat. “That was fate fucking me over, nothing more and nothing less.”
She caught his arm when he reached for the door handle. “Harley? I hadn’t told anyone else about Larry. Talking about it makes me ill, like I might throw up. It was so sad, and so scary, and I can’t remember ever feeling so much like an idiot.”
He relented and pulled her close. “I’m sorry, Stasia.”
“I feel better, getting it out in the open. Talking about it.”
“I’m glad.”
She hugged him tighter. “I wish you’d trust me enough to share with me, too.” Under her hands, his muscles went taut. Stasia held on to him. “I understand what happened with Dakota. And I think everyone is pretty damned grateful you were there with her.”
“Gregor got there fast, too.”
“But if you hadn’t been there—”
“Not long after,” he continued, “Simon and Mallet returned, too.”
She hadn’t met anyone named Mallet, but she assumed he was another fighter. “But you were there with her when she first got attacked by her crazy ex, and that’s how you got hurt.”
Nearly humming with anger, Harley sat back in his seat. After a few seconds, he relaxed enough to drop his head back and close his eyes. “I was taken off guard. I was thinking about other things, and they charged us. If I’d been as alert as I should have been, I’d have heard them, or seen them coming.” He turned his head and opened his startling blue eyes on her face. “That’s how I got hurt. It was my own damn fault. No one else’s.”
“And before that?”
He studied her, and must have decided it didn’t matter if he shared. “Not long after I was offered my first title shot, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Dad had died years earlier, and Uncle Satch was the only other relative we had. Mom was bad off, and it was too much for him to handle on his own.”
Oh God. Stasia hadn’t realized…
“After more tests, the doctors realized the cancer was pretty advanced. Even though the treatments were grueling, Mom tried everything. And still she got weaker by the day.”
Her heart ached. “You took time off to care for her?”
Harley stared out the windshield. A lone streetlamp sent a slash of light into the car, lending a strange illumination to his features, gilding his blond hair, putting an unholy glow in his pale blue eyes.
“Don’t make me sound noble. I didn’t do it for her, as much as for myself.” His voice went rough, breaking Stasia’s heart. “I didn’t want to let her go.”
“She was your mother. I understand that.”
His jaw flexed. His gaze became hard and cold. “She went through chemo and radiation, but the cancer had spread, and there wasn’t much hope. She didn’t last that long.” He glanced at her. “We no sooner had the funeral than Uncle Satch wanted me back in training.”
Though Stasia knew Harley’s uncle meant well, his insensitivity had no real excuse. “Maybe he thought it’d help for you to have something else to focus on.”
Harley shrugged. “I had to practically start over. I was still considered a new fighter and it wasn’t easy to earn that first shot at the belt. I had to go through the ranks to get the same opportunity again.”
“And you did?”
“Yeah. I put all my focus on that damn belt. I trained my ass off, and walked through guys with perfect records.”
“And they offered you another shot.” Stasia touched his arm. “What happened that time?”
Harley narrowed his eyes. “I fucked up. Even with all the time I spent training, I stupidly thought I’d fallen in love.”
A terrible pang squeezed the air from Stasia’s lungs. “Why is that stupid?”
“Satch didn’t want me fooling around with girls. He wanted me to put all contact with females on the back burner.” He gave her a long look. “Like that would ever happen.”
She smiled.
Silence stretched out as Harley stared toward the parking lot. “It’s a long, boring story, but the gist of it is that I thought I was in love with Sandy, so I was busy doing this balancing act.”
“The sport and the girl?”
“Yeah. Satch was never happy, but I was making it work.” He rubbed his thigh. “Or so I thought.”
“What happened?”
“She got hit by a car.”
“Oh my God.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head, stared out the window. “Really fucked her up. Cracked ribs, fractured leg, broken jaw. Sandy was miserable, more miserable than I’ve ever seen a woman. The guy who hit her…it was one of those freak accident kind of things. The sole on his shoe was loose and it got stuck on the pedal. He couldn’t brake.”
Suddenly Harley laughed, and it alarmed Stasia. “Harley?”
“He had insurance, and a shitload of guilt. So much guilt that he visited her at the hospital almost daily.” The corners of his mouth curled. “And I guess that’s when they fell in love.”
Blindsided, Stasia just sat there staring at him. She hadn’t seen that one coming. Not by a long shot.
“No, I’m not kidding,” he said. “So don’t ask. One day Sandy was claiming undying love for me, and then the next thing I knew she tearfully confessed to being in love with someone else. They told me together. Real brave of them. They held hands the whole time.”
“Harley, I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t imagine such a thing.
“Far as I know, they’re still married.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I got over her quick enough. That wasn’t the big problem. The real bitch of it was the gossip. Everyone from neighbors to the SBC organization knew I’d been dumped after missing a damned title fight. Some pitied me, and some thought it was hilarious, a real kick in the ass. I figured it was a lesson to be learned.”
Her mind made an immediate leap, and she spoke before she could censor her thoughts. “That’s why you’re so controlling now.”
“You think?” Wearing a facetious grin, Harley pretended to ponder that. “Maybe. It’s for certain that I now know not to go off half-cocked, mixing up emotion with business. But it’s not a whacko reaction, Stasia, so don’t start with the amateur analysis again. How I live my life is a deliberate choice to avoid more chaos, not a reaction to a permanently damaged psyche.”
As her brain churned, she barely heard him. “You couldn’t control Sandy or how she affected your life, so you ensure that you control other women in the only safe way that you can: in bed.”
Harley shook his head, and even went so far as to flick the end of her nose. “There’s that analysis I told you to avoid.”
“Something that obvious hardly has to be analyzed.”
He leaned closer to her. “I like controlling women. It’s a turn-on. That’s all there is to it. If you’d let me show you—”
Before she could get seduced, Stasia pushed him back. “You can’t manipulate life, Harley. It happens, whether you want it to or not.”
“I can decide how it affects me.”
She licked her lips, wishing for a way to convince him. All she could do was share her own truths. “When that woman threatened to kill herself, I realized that every day is a blessing, every breath is a gift.”
“Yeah. I agree.” He opened his Jeep door. “But my biggest gift will be the belt.”
Stasia sat there while Harley came around and opened her door. Her thoughts moiled. She didn’t move.
Bracing his hands on the roof of the Jeep, he leaned in. “Thinking about being spreadeagle on my bed?”
“No.” She looked up at him. “I was thinking what an incredible, fascinating, and talented man you are.”
Scowling as if insulted, he straightened and waited for her to get out.
At first, she thou
ght he wouldn’t say any more, but right before they entered the bar, he said, “All right, I’ll bite. What part of my pathetic life confessions led you to label me as an incredible person?”
Smiling, Stasia leaned into him. “Harley. Some people are born blessed, with everything handed to them. They don’t have to work hard, or overcome adversity. And if they’re challenged, they fold up like a cheap deck of cards.” She tilted her head back to see him. “But you’re a self-made man. You know what you want, and you’re going after it, regardless of how many obstacles get thrown in your way. You’ve lost both parents, gotten through heartbreak, and had some of the rottenest luck I’ve ever heard of. And still you’re an honorable, hardworking man who’s willing to help others in need.”
“Jesus.” He put both emotional and physical distance between them. Pulling her along by the hand, he led her forward. “Don’t saint me yet, Anastasia. After I’ve blown your mind with sex, then you can consider it if you want. But not until then.”
Drawing her into the crowded room where the band would play, Harley gave her no opportunity to reply. Seconds later, a roaming photographer started snapping shots.
Stasia didn’t understand until Simon, Gregor, and Dean welcomed them to their table, and the talk turned to the title belt.
Harley would be fighting soon, and he hadn’t even told her.
Maybe that fact said more than words could. He wasn’t going to let her in, and she’d be fooling herself to think otherwise. She couldn’t help him. He didn’t want or need her help.
It was time to give up.
This time, he’d get the shot, and Stasia would rather never see him again than get in his way.
Tonight, she’d tell him good-bye.
For good.
THE knock on her hotel door nearly caused Jasmine to scream. She was so upset with herself, she wasn’t sure what to do.
She’d made out with Barberosa. In the hallway. In front of his friends.
What was she thinking?
She hadn’t been, that much was obvious. But it wasn’t all her fault, and blast it, she should really give Barberosa a piece of her mind. Once she’d decided that, she forgot about her clothes and her anxiety over his reaction to them, marched across the floor, and threw the door open.
