by Addison Fox
“I just texted Daphne the info.” Nick shoved Landon’s phone back into the console, and they all heard it ping almost instantaneously.
Fender glanced down at the screen from his seat and read the text out loud. “Make sure you stay put in the kitchen.”
“No way.” Landon picked up the pace, narrowly missing running a red light as he took a hard right. “She can fight me later on it. Mom’s in there.”
On that front, they were all agreed. It was the addition of Harlow that had Fender beside himself.
He’d worried about this. Had believed that leaving her alone would keep her safe. Yet she’d ended up in the same place.
In the same danger.
If only he’d changed his mind. If only he’d kept her nearby, he could have avoided this.
“Down the block, L,” Nick said. “Pull up here so the cops don’t see us.”
A small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk but was being held back by a few patrol officers. Fender ignored all of them as he raced out of the car and down the sidewalk.
“Sir!” One of the cops hollered after him. When he didn’t stop, the guy gave chase, but Fender kept moving.
“This is a police situation. You need to stay back.”
“My father is inside that building, and he’s holding my mother and two other women hostage.”
The cop took a step back, even as his hand remained positioned over his gun. “You Blackstone?”
“Yes.”
Fender didn’t wait for any further small talk but marched determinedly to where he saw Daphne lined up with SWAT.
“Fender!”
“Leave it, Daph.”
She shook her head but didn’t yell. Instead, she took his arm and pulled him back behind a line of men in riot gear. “Stay here with me. They’ve made contact.”
“It should be me in there.” The words were low and out before he could check them. They weren’t meant for anyone’s hearing, but Daphne heard him anyway.
“No, sweetie. No one should be in there. That’s why we’re getting them back.”
Fender waited, listening to the directions winging back and forth. Before he realized what she was doing, Daphne handed over her earpiece. “Here. You can listen to what’s going on. I’m not part of SWAT, and no one’s letting me in anyway.”
Fender palmed the piece, well aware she was likely breaking more than simple protocol. He hunkered down beside her and plugged in the earpiece.
And heard Harlow’s voice.
* * *
“He’s getting more agitated.” Harlow whispered the words to her mother and to Louisa, the three of them doing their best to remain unobtrusive in the back corner of the warehouse. She’d been eyeing the layout and thought she had a way for them to get to safety.
At least her mother and Louisa.
She had youth on her side and could potentially zigzag her way to safety if she became the focus of Trent’s attention and trigger finger. Her damn runs around the reservoir had better be worth something, after all.
Or so she told herself.
“The cops are outside. All you need to do is get to the door while I hold him off. The cops will get you.”
“I’m not leaving you.” Gretchen’s denial winged back immediately, and Harlow held her hand, quieting her.
“It’s not leaving me. It’s diverting his attention so the police can do their job. We need to end this, and the longer he’s agitated the worse it’s going to get.”
She knew nothing about hostage situations, but she did know people. The man who’d held a gun on them and perp walked them into this building had grown increasingly distracted and upset. Sitting there and waiting for him to blow wasn’t of benefit to any of them.
“That door. Back over there.” She pointed out a fire door. She might not know anything about hostage situations, but she did know the door would be manned. All she had to do was ensure her mother and Louisa weren’t mistaken for the problem.
Which was why she was going to scream for all she was worth and pray the cops had ears on the building as well.
“Are you ready? Back door the moment he begins pacing the opposite direction.”
* * *
Fender heard the words as clearly as if Harlow were standing beside him. And he knew she’d started on a suicide mission.
“All you need to do is get to the door while I hold him off.”
SWAT had already given the instructions, and Fender saw the crew by the door preparing to make an opening for the two women who would shortly run through.
And then he began to pray.
* * *
Harlow watched Trent’s pacing, the steady clip of his work boots nearly hypnotic in their consistency. His focus had stayed on them, but she had seen his gaze shift quickly toward the front door before winging back toward them again.
She had to be quick, and she had to be fast. And she had to hope his nerves would work in her favor instead of against.
Her mother gripped her hand, her desperation growing as real as Trent’s. It was only when Louisa took Gretchen’s other hand and squeezed that Harlow saw a ray of hope.
“Gretchen,” Louisa said. When there was no response, she said it again, her voice a more urgent whisper. “Gretchen! You can do this. We can all do this.”
“She’s my baby.”
“And she’s right. Trent’s only going to get worse the longer we stay here. We need to be fast and we need to zigzag. Can you do that?”
Harlow squeezed her mother’s other hand before dropping it. “Go. The moment I move.”
She sent up one more silent prayer that they’d all get out alive and that she would see Fender one more time.
Then she launched herself at his father.
* * *
Fender heard Harlow’s scream—more like a war cry—as the entire line of cops in front of him went into motion. The crew at the side door dragged it open, capturing the two women who tumbled through. They’d barely cleared the door when the remaining team went in.
The crew that had lined up in front of Fender stormed the front entrance, and he heard their movements through his earpiece as he watched their assault.
Gunshots sounded in his earpiece, and he wasn’t even conscious of Daphne’s hand in his, holding him tight.
All he heard was the heavy shouting, another gunshot, and then silence.
* * *
Harlow felt the gentle gloved hands on her arm, pulling her up from where she lay face down on the dirty floor of the warehouse. Her actions had produced the chaos she’d intended, but she’d missed most of it the moment she’d been tackled by a SWAT team member.
The man had lain heavy on her back as shouts and gunfire erupted above her.
And then it was quiet.
Although it couldn’t have been more than a moment, she heard the distinct words “shooter down,” and turned to see the chaos behind her.
Fender’s father lay on his back, his sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling.
She tried to look away, but couldn’t as she realized what had happened. What her actions had wrought.
The SWAT team member who’d covered her pulled gently on her arm, turning her from the scene. “Come on, Miss Reynolds. Come on.”
He deftly moved her past Trent’s body and the team of people who’d quickly moved in to flank his prone form.
Light streamed in the front door, the hot, heavy August heat swirling around her. How odd that she couldn’t feel it. Could only feel a cold that settled in her bones and forced her teeth into a rough chatter.
And then he was there.
Fender stood before her, the vision she’d carried as she screamed and charged Trent. The face she’d held in her mind’s eye throughout the ordeal. Her North Star and mental touchstone.
He ran to her, dragging her close, his face buried in her neck. “Harlow. Harlow.”
She held on tight, wrapping him close, and wondered at how real and solid he felt. His mouth met hers bri
efly before he buried his face once more in her neck. And simply whispered her name, over and over.
* * *
Fender couldn’t stop touching her. He had no idea how long they stood there, but it was only when Nick, Landon, and Daphne walked over to them, Louisa and Gretchen between them, that he finally let go.
He pulled his mother close in a tight hug as Harlow and Gretchen hugged each other, wrapped up tight in each other’s arms.
“You’re okay,” he whispered against Louisa’s head, anxious to know she was fine.
“I’m fine, sweetie. I’m fine.” She pulled back and held his face between her palms. “Are you?”
“Of course.”
“He’s—” Louisa’s eyes clouded with tears. “He’s gone, Fender. Daphne told us.”
“My father?”
Mama Lou nodded, and he searched Nick and Landon’s faces and saw the same knowledge there.
Something indefinable burned through him, part sadness and part relief. He’d never grieved his father’s exit from his life all those years ago, but it seemed freeing somehow to know he was truly gone.
He couldn’t bother them again.
Secure in that knowledge, he moved to Harlow and pulled her close once more. “You’re so brave.”
“I’m so sorry, Fender. I’m sorry about your father. I’m sorry that I had anything to do with it.”
He stilled, holding her at arm’s length. “How can you think that?”
“I’m the one who charged him there at the end. It was my plan. And I—” He stopped her with his mouth, ending her words. The pain of the past few days and the absolute horror of believing he’d never see her again because of his father’s actions poured out in the kiss. She responded through it all, but still whispered “I’m sorry” when he lifted his lips from hers.
“You did nothing. You saved yourself and our mothers. That’s all that matters.”
“But he’s gone.”
“None of us wished that on him, including me. But the only person who did this, who is responsible for the outcome, is him.” Fender looked around at everyone assembled together. His family and his future.
His everything.
“You’re here, and you’re okay. And I’m going to spend every day making this up to you.”
Harlow was quick to admonish him. “If I’m not at fault, you’re not at fault.”
“I am for sending you away. I’m more sorry than I can ever say. But I’m very much looking forward to making it all up to you.”
Harlow pressed her hand against his cheek, her smile warm when she looked up at him. “Will you be making it up to me eminently?”
Their conversation in the park came winging back to him, filling him with happiness and laughter.
“I think I can arrange that.”
“Then kiss me.” She leaned up on tiptoes and pressed her lips to his ear. “And never let me go.”
“I love you, Harlow. I wasn’t looking for any of it, and then you showed up and I realized how wrong I was.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I believed I’d lose my exit strategy if I got serious with anyone.”
“And now?”
“I realized you don’t need an exit strategy when you find the right person. You just need to hang on as tight as you can.” He wrapped his arms around her, punctuating his point, and heard the sweetest response he could have ever imagined.
“I love you, too.”
Epilogue
Fender hung the last strand of lights on the tree and stood back to admire the work. His mother’s annual tree-trimming brunch had just gotten underway, and he had been put on lights detail this year.
The lights twinkled, nearly as brightly as the ring in the box in his pocket.
He’d gone back and forth, convinced he should ask Harlow to marry him privately, then swinging back to doing it in front of his family. In the end, he’d decided he couldn’t wait any longer, and he wanted his family as part of the moment anyway.
So it would be this morning.
Even if the box burning a hole in his pocket since he picked it up on Wednesday felt like a boulder.
Ignoring the sensation, he let his gaze skip around the room. Mrs. W. and Father Thad were doing their usual verbal tango, Mrs. W.’s insistence that the baby Jesus, Mary, and Joseph the church purchased the prior year looked garish and too much like “Las Vegas” because of how the decorating committee had backlit them on the altar. Daphne and Landon were huddled together at the kitchen table, laughing over something on L’s computer. And Emma and Nick were even now marching back down the stairs with arms full of ornament boxes.
His mother swung out of the kitchen, Dave on her heels. They both had platters full of food, and he didn’t miss the way his mother’s eyes lit up when Dave pressed a kiss to her neck. As they’d expected, his mother had won the borough presidency, and while the work made her, in her words, happy and fulfilled, it had been Dave who’d put the real light in her eyes.
As usual, Daphne and Emma had been right on that count. More than right, if his mother’s happiness was any indication.
“Are you hiding over here?” Harlow wrapped an arm around his waist and stood to admire the tree. His quiet observations vanished as his agitation over the ring and what would be the precise right moment to propose returned.
People still milled about, and he heard his mother’s promise that the bacon had just gone on the stove, so he was stuck waiting now until after breakfast. If the bacon burned, his brothers would disown him.
“Just admiring my handiwork.”
“The lights look good.” Harlow snuggled against him.
He pressed a kiss to her head. “I’ve had years of practice. And my mother knows I like light detail instead of tinsel. That shit gets everywhere.”
“Truth,” she agreed.
They stood there, wrapped in each other, and Fender marveled at all that had happened. They’d found each other and survived the ordeal with his father. He’d begun a tentative relationship with her mother, and had seen how hard Gretchen had worked to overcome some of her former pain. He’d even convinced her to come this morning to celebrate the engagement after asking her permission to marry Harlow. Even now, Daphne’s best friend, Jasmine, had Gretchen wrapped up in conversation, the two of them laughing and animated over coffee at the dining room table.
As happy as it made him to see everyone he loved doing well, he knew he was the happiest, luckiest SOB who’d ever walked the streets of Park Heights. He had Harlow.
They spent every moment together they could, and had recently decided they’d settle in Brooklyn. She’d been approached to open a gallery in DUMBO a few blocks down from Landon’s office, and it looked like the opportunity was going to make a Brooklynite out of her.
He’d never been happier in his life, but more than that, he’d never felt so content. The future that he’d been so certain about had changed in ways he never could have imagined. And now, instead of simply content, he was happy.
Hopeful.
And focused on all that was still to come.
It was with that realization that his hand dropped into his pocket, nearly of its own accord. Without giving himself another moment to plan or plot or worry about ruining the bacon, he dropped his arm from Harlow’s waist and continued on down onto one knee.
The words he’d practiced over and over all week in his head were nowhere to be found and instead, he led with his heart.
“You’re everything to me, Harlow. I love you, and I want to make a life with you.”
Recognition dawned in her eyes as he lifted the box in his hands, a light sheen of tears accompanying that awareness.
“Will you have me? Will you marry me?”
“Yes.”
It was one word—one simple, single word—but it changed his life once more.
Louisa had said yes to him all those years ago. Yes to being his mother. Landon and Nick had said yes all those years ago. First to bei
ng friends and then, later, to being brothers.
And now Harlow had said yes to being his wife.
The unstable foundation of his youth had shifted, settling into the stable footing of his adulthood.
And just like that day so many years ago—the day Mama Lou had made him her son—Harlow had agreed to make him her husband.
Without shame, or remorse, or embarrassment, he let tears fall freely from his eyes as he stood to pull her close for a kiss.
And as the room erupted in a round of laughter and applause, Fender Blackstone knew he was the luckiest of men.
Author’s Note
For those of you who follow NASCAR, you’ll know I deliberately changed the weekend of the annual race in Watkins Glen. I hope you’ll forgive me a bit of artistic license on the change, but I needed one extra weekend in the arc of their relationship before Fender and Harlow went away on a trip alone.
I hope you’ll agree their steamy trip upstate more than makes up for the change.
About the Author
Author photograph ©Lifetouch Portrait Studios Inc.
Addison Fox can’t remember a time when words weren’t a part of her life. In addition to being an avid reader, she loves writing novels about strong-willed and exciting heroes and heroines—individuals who are meant for each other and who deserve their happy ever after. After she makes them work for it, of course!
Addison lives in Dallas. You can find her at her home on the web at www.addisonfox.com or on Facebook (facebook.com/addisonfoxauthor) and Twitter (@addisonfox).
You can sign up for email updates here.
Also by Addison Fox
At Last
Just Once
Forever Yours (novella)
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