Harley (In the Company of Snipers Book 4)

by Irish Winters

  “Who’s here then?”

  “Me.” A heavy hand clasped Harley’s tired shoulder. Zack. “What are you doing here? Why aren’t you home?”

  “I... don’t know where I live,” Harley said simply. I don’t know a damned thing.

  “Sure you’re okay? You look three sheets to the wind.” Zack hadn’t moved his hand yet.

  “Where’s my desk?”

  It only took sinking into his chair for Harley to realize what he should have known all along. The framed picture of gorgeous Nurse O’Brien on his desk explained everything. Only she looked happy then, her long hair blowing in the breeze against an aquamarine ocean backdrop. Better yet was the genuine relaxed smile on his face with her sitting on his lap and facing him the way she was. Her lips looked a little sunburned and swollen like she’d been kissed hard. It did not escape his notice that no bikini straps showed in the picture. No tan lines either. The notion enticed. And panicked.

  “Am I married?” God, I hope not. A wife will never forgive being forgotten.

  “You don’t remember Judy yet,” Zack stated, making himself comfortable on the edge of Harley’s desk.

  Pushed back in his chair and searching his mind, Harley studied the picture in his hands. “Evil eye,” he blurted, his frustration growing with the incessant word game. “Hell, Zack, I remember you guys. I can even remember the guys in my squad now. Why can’t I remember her?”

  “What’s your doctor say?”

  Harley shrugged. “I don’t know. He wanted me to stay another day. I opted out.”

  “You need to go back. Your neurologist can help.”

  “Haven’t seen him yet. You know me. I don’t do hospitals. Do I?” Harley had to think. Sometimes he actually sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

  Zack folded his arms over his chest. “You can’t stay here. You’re not fit for work. What do you want to do?”

  “I need a drink,” Harley grumbled, searching the drawers of his desk for a bottle. “You got anything? I’m coming up dry.”

  “No,” Zack answered sternly, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, man. Booze screwed you up last time. You are not starting that crap again. You know that.”

  “But I got nothing, Zack.” The walls seemed to close in. “No wallet. No phone. I can’t remember where I parked my Jeep, much less where I live. And I got a really bad feeling,” Harley stabbed his thumb into his tender chest, “that doesn’t have anything to do with that old bag who knifed me. Damn. I can even remember Miriam. Why not Judy?”

  “Scratch your Jeep off your to-do list. It burned to a crisp in the accident. And stop worrying about your memory. Give yourself a break. It’s only been a couple days. Maybe seeing your apartment will jog something loose.” Zack kept his voice real calm like he was handling a skittish horse. For good reason. There was not enough air in the room.

  “Nurse O’Brien lives with me, doesn’t she?”

  Zack nodded.

  How could the gorgeous redhead in the photo live with him, a loser? Made no sense. Neither did the anxiety creeping up his spine. “Don’t think she wants to see me. Kinda felt like she was happy to get away from me last night. Good riddance. You know?”

  “Come on.” Zack offered an arm up. “Judy’s not that way. It takes time. Trust me.”

  “You think?”

  “I don’t just think, I know,” Zack replied. “Let me check first. She was staying at a hotel down the street. Judy might be closer than you think.” He reached for the phone on Harley’s desk and punched in a number. Wow. He sounded sure of himself.

  “Mind if we stop for a drink along the way? You buy?” Harley tried again while Zack was on the phone. Sometimes a man needed to strategize with a few good buddies over a couple beers before he did something drastic like facing an angry woman.

  Zack shook his head and ended his phone call with the hotel. “It’s your lucky day. She’d already checked out, and no, we are not stopping at a bar. You don’t do booze, you don’t do drugs, and you’re almost as good a shot as me. Now get your ass in my car. I’m taking you home.”

  “What if she’s there?” Harley balked, a full-blown case of nerves rattling his last resolve.

  “Good. You two need to talk. Give her a chance. Judy’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

  “But what if she won’t let me in?”

  “Shut it, Mortimer.” Zack waved toward the elevator. “You’re going home.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Judy couldn’t wait. The FBI had contacted her at her hotel to return the belongings they’d taken. Could she meet them? You bet she could. Judy was itching for another round with Agent Holman. Only it wasn’t him standing at her apartment door with two other agents and three hand trucks stacked high with cardboard boxes and computer equipment when she arrived. It figured.

  “Good morning, ma’am.” The nearest agent nodded politely toward the boxes. “We’re returning evidence from our investigation.”

  She bit her tongue. Lashing out at this guy was pointless. Wordlessly, she unlocked the apartment and entered her home. It took them five minutes to wheel their cargo inside, but Judy made them stand and wait while she opened and examined the contents of each box. Not until Harley’s engagement ring was located did she look at them again. “Where do I sign?”

  The same agent offered a pen and the property release form. He wasn’t bad looking. Tall. Nicely combed blond hair. Tan. Neither was he rude. But he was FBI. He needed to leave. With the form signed and back in his hand, he nodded again. “Have a nice day.”

  She couldn’t get them out of her home fast enough. Only when her apartment door was closed with the dead bolt engaged did she breathe a sigh of relief. One battle down. One to go.

  Judy faced the mess that once was Harley’s sanctuary. She pushed her sleeves back. Organization was one of her major talents—or sins, the way Harley saw it.

  Digging in, she tackled the entertainment center first. Organizing his vinyl record, eight-track tape, cassette, and CD collection of country and cowboy music went quickly. Alphabetically. A nice touch. One he may never appreciate, but a nice touch nonetheless.

  Next came the extra bedroom that doubled as an office, a filing nightmare all by itself. No problem. Her fingers flew while her mind worked the puzzle of Harley. The complexities of the damaged brain created a wide range of dysfunctions that impacted a patient’s feelings, memories, knowledge, and abilities. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer from impaired basic cognitive skills. He just seemed stuck in the greatest traumatic event of his life, the poor man.

  The resilience and pain threshold of some of the ex-military she’d come across never ceased to amaze her. Alex’s team was a prime example. All battle-hardened and tougher than most, they seemed able to compartmentalize their pain until they had time for it.

  Harley was the same, ready to throw himself back into work even if it was just a walk in the woods with his boss. Last night should have gone differently. At the end, Judy had flown off and left her future husband with the woman he still dreamed about.

  Yeah. She knew. He’d blurted Kelsey’s name plenty during nightmares and dreams. Of course, he’d blurted other names too, and now they all made sense. His brain had been trying to tell him something for years.

  Judy stood at the open gun safe with a bucket of hot, sudsy water. She pushed the irksome feeling aside that always surfaced at thoughts of Kelsey and Harley together. Roy’s bit of gossip explained a lot. Of course, they’d bonded at that more than intimate moment when rescuer met victim. The way Harley was at that time in his life, he’d bonded like super glue to the gentle woman he’d saved. Who didn’t like Kelsey?

  “There,” she said to herself when the safe was cleaned and his extra holsters and other paraphernalia in proper order. She almost felt like she’d accomplished something until she closed the door. Her fingers came away from the brass handle crusted with Harley’s dried blood. Reality intruded. Her indomitable energy flagged.
She could organize the heck out of his belongings. He still wasn’t there.

  The house phone rang from the kitchen wall. Her foolish heart skipped a beat. It could be him.

  “Judy O’Brien,” she answered hoping to hear a familiar voice on the other end of the line.

  Heavy breathing responded instead. A man’s deep voice groaned into her ear. Not Harley’s. More heavy breathing. Great. A prank call. Wasn’t that the perfect end to another dismal day?

  Judy slammed the phone into its wall cradle. Prank calls did not scare her. One way or the other Harley would come home, and when he did, she was going to get that romantic encounter she’d passed up. Never again would she miss an opportunity to be with the man she loved.

  She had a shower to clean.

  “Extravagant,” he blurted at Zack’s black Porsche. The oddest words popped up at the strangest times. Maybe he was wrong. What if none of these words had to do with her?

  “Say what?”

  “Nothing. I keep coming up with E words.” Harley sank into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “Starting to bug me.”

  “That’s weird.” Zack cranked up his CDR system, and Harley closed his eyes, content to let the reverberations of smooth jazz drown his discontent. Weird didn’t begin to cover the way his brain was working right now.

  Entertaining.

  Right on cue. Another stupid E word! At least, he didn’t blurt this one out. Harley sank lower into his seat. The Porsche wove through traffic but he ignored the view, just kept his eyes closed, wishing everything would return to normal the next time he opened them. When the car slowed, he gave it a shot, but the view failed in the ‘Honey, I’m home’ department.

  “You ready?” Zack asked.

  “Why not?” Harley pushed the car door open. Climbing slowly to his feet, he scanned the building. Nothing registered. Not the red brick. Not the elevator ride to the fourth floor. Not even the apartment door Zack assured him was his.

  “I live here?” Harley stood at his door, not quite ready to knock.

  Zack stuck a fist in front of his face and gave the door five sharp raps.

  Instant panic hit. “I was going to do that.”

  Eventually.

  Ugh. Not again!

  Zack shrugged, his palms spread upward. “You snooze, you lose.”

  The suspense mounted. Harley’s mouth dried. What could he possibly say to an angry, hurt woman? Maybe Zack shouldn’t be here. It might get ugly. The knob turned. Nurse O’Brien opened the door. Her sleeves were rolled up like they’d interrupted her in the middle of something important. Surprise flashed over her features, and dead on its heels, irritation.

  Ewww....

  “You’re supposed to be in bed.” She opened the door just enough to talk.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Harley’s mouth answered automatically. Out of the blue, his Texas accent showed up. “That wouldn’t be an invitation, would it little lady?” He cringed before the words were out of his mouth, which was hard because his foot was in there too. No woman likes a smart-aleck come on when she’s madder than a wet hen.

  Sure enough. Emerald greens glared a mean shot in Zack’s direction. “Was this your idea, Lennox?”

  Harley winced. She tended to use last names when she got mad. Next, he’d be just dumb old Mortimer.

  “Don’t blame me,” Zack explained. “I figured he’d better get home before he fell down in the street. We don’t want to lose him again, do we?”

  She opened the door, scowling like a gargoyle at the warning in Zack’s tone. “Fine. Enter.”

  Harley gulped and stepped into her, umm, his apartment. Clean. Fresh smelling. A hint of detergent and jasmine in the air. He headed straight to the couch and sat. Zack was right. The stupidity of the day caught up with him. Sit or fall. Once down, he studied the carpet between his boots while Zack chatted at the door. Always a lady’s man, he usually knew what to say. Didn’t seem to be hitting it off with this woman though.

  Another E word flashed loud and urgently clear. E. X. I. T.

  Harley glanced at the open door. Maybe his brain was right this time.

  “Why here, Zack?”

  “Just bringing him home—”

  “He belongs in the hospital. Take him back.”

  Ouch. She sure knew how to make a guy feel welcome.

  “Nope. He’s all yours.” Zack left. Just like that. He didn’t even come in to be sociable. The coward.

  Judy stood silent, her eyes stabbing into the top of Harley’s head. He could feel ’em. At last, he looked up. Sure enough. Still mad.

  “Hi,” he said quietly.

  Expelled. Escape. Exposed.

  Wow. His brain really knew how to offer—Encouragement. He cringed. Now, he was doing it.

  A glimmer of tenderness shifted over her face. “Why didn’t you stay in the hospital, Mortimer?”

  Right on cue. He was Mortimer instead of Harley. The idea niggled that maybe he did know this woman better than he thought. How else would he have known her tactics?

  “I... I....” He didn’t have an answer. “I reckon I didn’t want to.”

  When she didn’t move or reply he tried again. “Nice place you got here.”

  Her lips twisted. Sarcasm poured out. “It ought to be. It’s yours.”

  Blew it, Mortimer. Going down. Again.

  Embolden.

  Harley scrubbed a quick hand over his face. He was caught between an over-talkative brain and an angry woman, no man’s land for a simple thinker like him. The whole day was wearing him out and it wasn’t even noon yet.

  Exhausted.

  Shit, he cussed silently to himself. I’m not exhausted. I’m stupid. This won’t work.

  “Can we talk?” he asked. “I’m not good at playing games.”

  “And yet here you are.” She folded her arms across her very full and lovely breasts.

  Elegant. Elegant. Elegant.

  Okay, that was weird, three of the same E word in rapid-fire sequence.

  His one hundred percent male eyeballs scrolled up and down her figure. For a change, she was garbed in something besides scrubs. Tight fitting jeans and a green knit shirt with three tiny buttons at the open neckline did her justice. She had her sleeves pushed up like she meant business. Lips to hips, she was his kind of woman. Full of curves. Soft. Sassy as hell.

  Her long hair played along, flouncing over her shoulders and teasing his tired eyes with its variegated shades of cedar. One minute red, the next burnished bronze that glimmered into hints of blond and brown. Why hadn’t he noticed it yesterday? Oh wait. He did, only it was pulled into a boring ponytail, not sexy like now. Everything about the woman was just plain—

  Exciting.

  He raked his fingers through his hair, his gaze drifting down her sultry body to her open-toed sandals. Shimmery brown polished toenails finished the summery effect she had going. Was the color of that bikini she wasn’t wearing in the picture ob his desk orange? Blue? Déjà vue whispered green, but not green. Maybe one of those light colors women called pastels. Whatever. It had to have looked good on her. Off too.

  Erotic.

  Oh, yeah....

  Tossing the bullshit, he went for broke and patted the couch beside him. “I can’t talk to you when you look like you’re gonna make a break for it. Why don’t you come on over here?”

  She huffed, but she did join him, sitting at the edge of the couch, all stiff, prim and untouchable. “So what now—”

  Exigent.

  “Just hush,” he ordered, his hands on his knees so she’d settle down and he could stop shaking. The damn woman was making him nervous, like that was hard to do. And if his brain chimed in with one more E word, he’d scream. Hell, now it was tossing words Harley wasn’t positive he’d heard before, much less knew what they meant. At least he wasn’t blurting them out loud anymore.

  Verging on hyperventilation, he gave her the chance to lie again. Friends in college? No way. “You and me live together. Right?�
��

  Her brows shadowed an intense glare. “I told you this was your apartment.”

  Exhilarated.

  “Listen, Miss O’Brien. I might have been born at night, but it wasn’t last night. Even a dumb guy like me wouldn’t have bought the stone on your finger for a casual friend. And if we live together, we’re either married or pretty damned serious.”

  She pursed her lips. Okay, so this was going to be harder than he guessed. Judy was stubborn. He liked that. But those lips, full and soft, all scrunched together like she was too mad to talk were hard to resist. He wanted to kiss that angry pout right off her face. At least, she was still wearing the ring. That had to count for something.

  Endurance.

  God, I’m caught in the middle of virtual Scrabble!

  “Trust me?”

  “I used to,” she said softly, her lips still tight. She combed her fingers through one side of her hair, pushing the silken mass over one shoulder, but leaving the other a dividing curtain between them.

  “I told you last night I been bombarded with E words.” Securing a handful of reddish silk, he lifted her protective barrier aside to see her face. “Maybe I got Tourette’s syndrome, I don’t know, but all these words have something to do with you. Would you help me out?”

  Another huff and he had her right where he wanted her. Still mad. Still stubborn. Still—

  Exasperated.

  “I propose a test.” He shifted his butt a teensy bit closer to hers.

  Examination.

  “No.” She backed away.

  Wow. She didn’t waste much time thinking about that. He edged closer, the back of his fingers against her neck while he kept hold of her hair, careful not to pull it or scare her.

  “Kiss me.”

  “No.” Her nose tipped up just a titch. He had half a mind to tickle her. She just looked so danged cute. Maybe tickling had gotten him past that gruff exterior before. He decided against it.

  “Come on. Just one kiss. What would it hurt? No tongue. Just lips. I promise. I won’t even breathe hard.”

  “You don’t remember me. Why would I kiss you?” She moved again. Inch by inch he was losing the battle, but he had a feeling he was winning the war. She hadn’t run.