Sunlight blasted through the window, blinding Harper as she stirred. She tried to raise her hand to block out the bright beams. Only her hand didn’t budge. She tried to move her other hand, but met the same result.
Alarm flared through her body. She lay on her back with several layers of rope around each wrist. Making tight fists, she flexed her arm muscles and struggled against the secure bindings, but the more she fought, the tighter they became.
Relaxing for a moment, she sat up a little farther only to find that she couldn’t move her feet. She strained her neck to see similar rope trussed around each ankle. Harper also noted that she was lying on a brown and orange plaid couch. The rope tied to her right arm disappeared over the seat back and the left arm’s bindings trailed underneath the sofa.
Experimenting, she pulled her left hand toward her right. As she moved, her right hand shifted farther up the back of the couch. She then pulled her feet upward and found that motion caused her arms to be dragged downward. Her arms must have been tied to her feet.
Panic flooded her. She closed her eyes and wrestled it down. She had to keep her cool or suffer another vicious bout of whatever was happening to her.
Besides, it couldn’t be too bad. Though she was tied up, she was bound to a really comfortable couch. So she couldn’t be in too much trouble. The rushing anxiety drained away as she fought for control and flopped back down into the plump cushions, feeling the tickling strain on her abdomen fade.
Harper looked carefully at her prison. Unfamiliar. Nothing sparked recognition. A solid, hearty wood coffee table sat between the couch and a huge flat-screen television, nested above matching wooden shelves stocked with sophisticated black entertainment components. Sparing an appreciative glance for the sleek technology, she then peered at the rest of the area.
The decor was simple, yet the pieces there were of good quality. The space was wide-open and airy, especially with sunlight gracing every corner. The walls were adorned with snowy mountain landscapes encased in heavy wood frames. Dark blues and rich greens, which mingled with the plentiful natural light from the wall of windows that commandeered half the room, were the only colors present.
She hated to pigeonhole the place, especially given her own spartan dwelling back in San Francisco, but the place hinted at a man’s touch.
Man’s touch. Harper shot forward, wincing at the tight bindings. She flopped back into the plush confines of the couch.
Flashes of memories showered over her, crackling inside her head like sparks. The last thing she remembered was wrestling with a shadowy figure just before he’d pinned her to the cold concrete floor of Bobby’s ruined lab. She’d had a second episode of the mind thing and events had been pretty hazy until all of a sudden he was there, facing her.
Her recollections were spotty, but she recalled the man had quicksilver moves. Thankfully, her body’s fighting instincts had kicked in. Hadn’t she gotten in a solid jab? She flexed the fingers on her right hand. A slight prickling of pain radiated from her knuckles. A smile broke out despite the circumstances.
He’d held her down under his hard-as-granite body, clasping his feet around her legs like an unbreakable vise and pinning her arms hard to her chest. She remembered her futile attempt to squirm out of his unyielding confinement. Then she’d finally asked him why. Why was he doing this? He’d seemed strangely confused at her question. Almost as confused as she was. And then she’d passed out.
Was this his place? Was he keeping her hostage? Had he done something to her? The man seemed to have known her. Been looking for her. Why? As if things could get more convoluted.
Shaking her head to clear it, Harper decided she’d better try to escape before finding the answers to any of those questions. Regardless of the cozy setting-not including the rope-she had no idea where she was or whether she was safe. Maybe there was no safe place for her anymore.
Raising her head, she searched her immediate area for anything she could use to cut through the thick rope. The four electronic remotes scattered on the table wouldn’t do the trick. Neither would the rolled-up, halfempty bag of potato chips.
But that glass might. Though a little crusty from recent use, it looked like the edges of the hefty pint glass would be thick enough to slice the twine as long as she could break the glass itself. It was resting on a coaster. Coaster?
If she could only get to it. About a foot from the edge of the table, it would be a challenge. If she could just jar the table enough, the glass would roll off and shatter against the hardwood floor. Or better yet, break against the solid table itself.
Harper squirmed on the couch in an attempt to twist close enough to bump the table. Wriggling like a worm, she knocked her knee against the wood table. Sucking in a wince from the clumsy bonk on her kneecap, she watched as the glass wobbled across the tabletop, moving closer to the middle instead of the edge.
Taking a deep breath, she pulled her bindings taut and shimmied again. She banged her knee harder against the table, ignoring the same painful jolt. The glass fell over and rolled away from her, off the far side of the table. It dropped to the hardwood floor with a clatter. But it didn’t break. Sighing in dismay, she closed her eyes and sank into the couch.
Her eyes snapped open at the deep snickering coming from the room’s large open entryway. Straining her neck to see the source, her breath caught when she gazed into the laughing, clear blue eyes of her nemesis from the lab. The shadows there had masked him well, but here in the bright daylight, she was absolutely sure this was the man who had gotten the best of her last night.
He lounged against the wall, holding a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She guessed he was easily half a foot over her five feet ten. She could see the evidence of rock-solid muscles under his tight black T-shirt. Snug blue jeans barely concealed the similarly evident muscles in his legs. Memories of that firm strength against her own body washed over her.
He was staring at her, the slight quirk of his alluring mouth indicating his patience with her appreciative perusal.
Cropped dark hair framed a rugged face. Stubble shadowed his jaw, maybe a day or two of it. Harper couldn’t stop the grin from creeping onto her face as she saw the beginnings of a hearty bruise covering the upper part of his nose just below his left eye. She’d done that. Good. She hoped he had a rhino-sized headache.
“Yes, it hurts,” his deep rumble confirmed. Long fingers from a large hand gripped the spoon tighter and dipped it into the bowl. He scooped some cereal into his mouth without breaking his piercing blue gaze.
Harper didn’t know what to do. Should she demand that he free her? Should she ask nicely? Should she act crazy and make threats? Having never been tied up before-well, she’d been tied up for naked fun and games, but never by a stranger with a gun-she really had no frame of reference for this kind of thing.
The man took another spoonful and moved to the oversized green chair to the left of the couch. He eased down and propped his booted feet up on the table, then stared while he chewed.
Her stomach shuddered with an involuntary growl. Watching him chomp away, Harper suddenly couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten. Was it yesterday? Two days ago?
“Hungry?” the man asked, the muscles in his square jaw flexing with another crunchy bite of cereal.
The truth? “Yes.” Harper sighed, plopping her head back down onto the couch, keeping her gaze steady under his. She was actually starving.
“Honesty,” he stated with a hint of surprise and a twitch of his lips. “Good. That’ll make things easier.”
“What things?” She couldn’t stop herself before the apprehensive question escaped. She mentally slapped herself. In movies, hostages were cool and calm, right?
“I’ll make you a deal.” He leaned forward and set down the bowl. His muscled forearms rippled as he rested his elbows on his denim-covered thighs. “You tell me why you’re wanted, and I might give you something to eat.”
Meeting his ice blue gaze with her own, Harper suddenly felt tired. His eyes were like clear glacial pools, compelling her to jump in and spill everything. She relished the thought. Her life had been a complete nightmare since she stepped off the bus. She was truly alone now. So it would be nice to tell someone about it. She craved someone to talk to. Maybe doing so would help her begin to deal with it.
But she wasn’t sure she was even ready to deal with it. Especially while tied to a couch. Albeit the supercushy couch of a supersexy man.
Wait. He’d said she was wanted. Fear fizzled in her stomach. He must be a cop or something. They must have found the bodies up in the Barracks and somehow tracked them to her. Oh, goodness. What was he going to do to her? She was probably going to prison. Forever. A sickening flush crawled across her skin.
“Look, lady.” He sighed heavily, rubbing his hand over his dark hair. “Either you talk to me or I take you in. Right now. Your choice.”
“Take me in where?” Harper asked, a little shakier than she had intended. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t meant to do anything to those guys. Holy cow. “Jail?”
“I’m not a cop,” the man said. She closed her eyes in relief. “I’m a government agent.” Her eyes snapped open in sharp panic. Holy herd of cows. The government was after her.
He raised a hand, his palm facing her in a calming gesture, as he obviously saw the alarm written all over her face. “Honey, just tell me the truth. Why was I sent to find you?”
She tried to calm down. It was hard to do under his intense scrutiny, but she had to; otherwise she might have another episode. They seemed to come when she got upset. She’d hate to rip him apart like she’d done to those other men. One, it would be an incredible waste of very nice man flesh. Two, he’d actually been okay with her, other than keeping her tied up and hungry. And three, he seemed to really want to hear her story.
Curious. Why bring her here, and not just turn her in to whomever in the government wanted her? Very curious. Maybe she should just come clean. It wasn’t as though she had many options. It could get a lot worse from here; that was for sure.
Meeting his gaze, she decided to give in and talk. “I don’t know.” Harper shook her head, the weight of her recent past lying heavily upon her. “I don’t know why any of this is happening.”
“Any of what?” he asked, leaning forward. Serious interest sparked in his eyes.
“I don’t know,” she countered hastily. He slumped back; a look of skepticism and disappointment washed over his rugged features. “Honestly, sir, I don’t understand what’s happening. That’s the truth.”
He raised a dark eyebrow and frowned, pulling out a stiff piece of paper from his back pocket. He turned it toward her.
Harper’s breath caught. In his hand was a photograph of her brother with his arm around her at the National Collegiate Swimming Championships three years ago. She’d won gold in every one of her events.
“Who is this man?” His deep voice broke her out of the proud memory. “And which one of you is Harpie?”
She almost choked at the nickname her brother had used for her since she was three. “That’s my brother, Bobby,” she managed in a shaky tone. “I’m Harper. Harpie is-was-his name for me.”
“Your brother,” he repeated immediately, demandingly. “The one you said was killed.” Did she say that? When had she blurted that out? Oh, right. When this man was forcefully restraining her. Before she passed out. “What did he do?”
“Nothing” was all she could say. She closed her eyes and shook her head sadly. “He was just a scientist.”
“Why was he killed?” the man asked levelly. But she couldn’t speak. She was too busy trying to control her misery and rage from the relentless questions. “Harper?” Her name rumbled off his lips, with a slight growly tone that tickled her tummy, strangely calming the simmering emotions within her.
She opened her eyes to look at him again, trying to emanate resolve. “I don’t know why my brother was killed,” Harper answered quietly, “but I’m going to find out.” A startled flicker passed through his blue eyes, then was gone. “And when I do, I’m going to make the people who killed him pay for it.”
His gaze remained locked with hers and she could see the wavering belief there. It was apparent that something was warring inside of him, as though he sincerely wanted to trust her. Why, she had no idea.
“You’re not lying to me, are you, Harper?” There it was again. Some kind of Midwest accent. The rolling way he said her name was too compelling, too dangerous.
“I’m telling you the truth,” she replied.
He stared for a long moment, then hoisted his long body from the chair and moved behind the sofa, out of her line of vision. Shadows flickered through the rays of sun shining into the room as she listened to him pace behind her.
Frustration threatened to surface, but she soon realized that the man was thinking. She remembered her father would pace-no, stalk, actually-back and forth at the top of the stairs while she and Bobby sat on the steps, waiting for him to come up with a punishment for whatever outrageous stunt they had pulled.
“Okay, Harper.” He suddenly appeared in front of her.
“Okay, what?” she answered, aware that she hadn’t heard him move. She’d have to be more cognizant of that. If she got the chance.
“I’ll help you,” he said, flopping down in his chair once again, his gaze burning into hers, making her blink. “I’ll help you find out why your brother was killed.”
“No way.” Even flatly refusing his offer, Harper’s smoky voice sent a thrill of excitement straight to his groin. The fact the woman was tied up on his couch didn’t help. “No thank you. No.”
“So, tell me how you really feel.” Rome shot her a sardonic half grin. He watched her expressive face closely, looking for clues to unlock the mystery and conflict she’d unwittingly brought into his life.
Harper was obviously keeping something from him, something big. But he was convinced that what she had revealed was the truth. He’d spent a lot of time deciphering people and cracking their personal codes, figuring out what they were hiding. His job, his very survival, demanded it.
So he more than trusted his well-honed instincts. And he was honest enough with himself to admit that she tapped something in him. Maybe it was how her resilient strength mixed with her naked candor. Or her terrified gaze mixed with her steely resolve.
“Why help me?” she asked simply, her emerald eyes imploring.
Why, indeed? She’d shocked him with her steadfast vow to find her brother’s killer. And find out why he was killed. Really, that was what bothered him the most. This woman, Harper, honestly had no idea why her scientist brother would end up a murder victim. Combine that with her frank confusion about what she had to do with it all. Plus, her apprehension about his being a government agent was also puzzling. He wanted answers that she apparently didn’t have or wouldn’t disclose.
Only once had he ever questioned a job before, and that one time had ended in tragedy. But Harper’s bleak fear was real. So was her fierce courage and strength. He needed to know why this beguiling woman was forcing him to doubt his duty.
“Why not help you?” His elusive answer caused her eyes to narrow.
“Before, you said you were taking me in.”
She twisted her hands nervously against the binding, the rope coiling and twisting. Maybe he should remove those now that he’d inexplicably decided to help her.
“Now you want to help me out. I don’t get it.”
“Neither do I, but I have an instinct about you,” Rome said, gritting his teeth. He knew it didn’t make sense, but he had a gut feeling about her. And his sharp instincts had never failed him. Even if he hadn’t always listened to them. That was a mistake he would never make again. But that was in the past. The simple fact was something just wasn’t right with this situation. And that hint of a doubt made the decision for him. “Look, Harper, I will help you find your answers. Whether or not you believe it, you do need my help.”
“I don’t need anyone’s help,” she argued in what was practically a growl. A positively sexy growl. He watched her ball her fists, her knuckles white, her wrists straining against the rope.
Obviously she didn’t know half of the danger she was in, given that he’d been the one called out to bring her in dead or alive. Rome’s reputation was that he always brought in his quarry. By any means. He was called upon for only the most dangerous and critical jobs. Jeff really wanted her for some reason, which was never a good thing.
“Honey, you don’t even know what you’re up against.” Rome shook his head. “Hell, I don’t even know what you’re up against. But I’m ready to find out.”
“How do I know you won’t just take me in later?”
“You don’t.” He shrugged and decided to level with Harper to make her understand that the fact he was sent to apprehend her meant bad things for her. “If I wanted to bring you in, you’d be there by now. I haven’t done that, so you know you can trust me. Believe me, I’m the lesser of two evils.”
She looked as though she was thinking about it, staring at him. Trying to figure out his angle. Clearly she didn’t trust easily. Then again, he couldn’t blame her; he did have her tied up to his sofa.
“Harper.” Rome leaned forward, speaking low. He liked the way her name tasted. “You can trust me.” She looked away. He moved in for the kill. He covered her bound hands with his own, noticing the long powerful fingers flex beneath his. A surprising little shiver crawled up his arm from where their skin touched. Her gaze shot to their hands, as if she felt it, too, then rose to look directly at him. Eyes that swirled like the stormy ocean bore into his soul, wanting to believe, sending a quiver down his spine. “You can trust me.” And he realized that he meant it.
“I don’t want anyone else to get hurt,” she whispered. Scared. Her hands twisted to grasp his. She was scared. “I need to do this alone. I can’t trust or risk anyone else.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And I’ll do whatever I have to do.”
Rome wasn’t sure what she meant by risking anyone, but he could take care of himself. He wanted to find out what was going on as much as she did. Why a scientist was murdered and this enigmatic woman was being hunted. And he played by his own rules, too.
“You want revenge,” he whispered back. She confirmed this with a slight nod of her dirty, ruffled blonde head. “I want answers. Let’s find both together.” He could barely believe what he was saying. What was making him commit to this woman he knew nothing about and was tasked to bring in as an enemy of the government? Whatever it was, he had a feeling it hinged on her working with him to uncover the truth. Finding himself mesmerized by her powerful green gaze, he nodded back at her, willing her to believe in him. At least enough to find out the truth.
“You won’t take me in?” Her breathless question drew him closer, only an inch or two from her warm, prone body. Rome remembered her firm curves sliding against his body from when they had wrestled in the lab last night.
Removing one of his hands from hers, he reached into his back pocket, pulling out his knife. It opened with a crisp snick, making her jump. Lifting her hands, he brought the sharp blade around to slice easily through the rope like the finest silk.
“No strings attached.” Rome winked at her startled expression. Smiling, he stood, mentally shaking off the intensity he felt crackling between them. He couldn’t deny the intoxicating pull of her determination and inner strength. “Let me get you something to eat.” He retreated toward the kitchen, listening as she began to untangle his expertly tied rope prison.
“Who are you?” Harper’s husky voice drifted to him just as he reached the edge of the room. Pausing to lean against the wall, he was captivated by the sunlight playing over her body.
“Rome,” he answered, after briefly toying with the idea to give her one of his countless aliases. But for some reason he couldn’t fathom, he didn’t. “ Rome Lucian.”
“I’m Harper Kane,” she offered cordially, finally escaping the couch to stand up stiffly. She rubbed her bare arms and then her thighs, presumably to get her circulation going. His certainly was.
She was taller than he’d thought. In the stark sunlight, he could see her athletic form was built from years of vigorous training, not just occasional gym visits to look sporty. That physique was solid and efficient, not a hollow shell.
It was going to be interesting getting to know this woman. Getting to know what it was about her that spoke to him. And finding out why she was wanted dead or alive.
“Harper Kane,” Rome repeated, and turned toward the kitchen. Throwing her a glance over his shoulder, he tilted his head for her to follow. “Do you like Cocoa Puffs?”
Harper sat quietly in the passenger seat of Rome’s black Land Rover. The tinted glass cast a dreary sepia tone to the countless trees they passed on the drive to Bobby’s secluded home. She absently tapped her foot to the song on the radio. “Dancing Queen” was among her favorites.
After two full bowls of Cocoa Puffs, Harper had blissfully relaxed in a long hot shower. The double jetting heads had surged their soothing spray over her battered body, while she’d generously lathered on Rome’s spicy soap and shampoo. She knew she smelled a bit like his scent now. It was a curiously intimate feeling, but at least she was clean and refreshed.
Before she’d undressed for the shower, she had taken a look around Rome’s place, admiring his high-tech computer system. She’d even toyed with one of his flash drives. Unbelievably, the tiny memory chip from Bobby’s drive had remained undiscovered in the folds of her jeans pocket. She thought for sure Rome would have confiscated it, but he hadn’t. So she’d cracked open one of his drives, removed the existing memory chip, and replaced it with her own.
Harper had then found Rome in his bedroom, picking out some clothes for her from his own wardrobe. He had even taken care of washing and drying her soiled clothes while she’d showered.
Returning her attention to the present, she glanced at Rome’s rugged reflection in her window and wondered again why he was helping her. Generally, Harper took things at face value and never bothered to look for ulterior motives. Not anymore.
Rome was helping her for his own reasons; she was sure of it. What those reasons were, she had no idea, but while she didn’t trust him, she didn’t have much choice at this point. And she knew he didn’t trust her, either. He knew she was hiding something. Her new power wasn’t something she reckoned she could share with him.
But no matter what she told herself, she could use the help. Especially the help of someone as competent as Rome Lucian, who was also on the inside of the government, which was now after her. She was alone in this world and had little choice but to use him for whatever he offered.
After a brief rundown of what she chose to tell him about her last few days, Rome had decided that they should start at Bobby’s house to look for clues. The thought of going back to Bobby’s place so soon made her sick to her stomach. Anguish and foreboding danced under her skin and prickled through her nerves. Tension wired her body, but it was of utmost importance that she kept her emotions under tight control until she figured out Rome’s motives and found out what happened with Bobby. And then she would let loose.
“What’s that smile for?” Rome’s rich voice broke into her thoughts. She wasn’t even aware she was smiling, but she knew she couldn’t admit why.
“Just glad to be clean and dry,” she answered instead, which wasn’t a lie.
“Look”-he reached over and gently covered her hand on her lap with his own warm one-“after this, we’ll get you some things. Okay?” His fingers squeezed hers with gentle reassurance.
“That’s fine.” She tried not to notice how nice his touch felt against her skin and thigh. Shifting in the heated leather seat, she gazed at his profile. He had a strong nose that looked like it had been broken at the bridge several times but somehow maintained a solid shape. Though he’d shaved that morning, his rugged cheeks were darkened by a perpetual shadow. His corded neck disappeared into the collar of a black T-shirt under a black leather jacket.
“We’re close?” he asked, not turning to face her even though she knew he could tell she was checking him out by the ticking muscle in his jaw. She moved her inspection from the attractive view inside to the abundant landscape outside.
“The next turn, actually,” she answered, recognizing the familiar sights. “Just about two more miles, then make another right.”
And they’d be back to where it all began.
Quiet reigned until they reached the turn.
Bitter, aching memories flooded over her as the car maneuvered onto the isolated roadway. Approaching the hidden turn to Bobby’s house, Rome slowed the vehicle. Her breathing caught as she saw the charred pavement where Bobby’s truck had burned. With Bobby inside. Nothing remained but a disturbing sooty stain on the road.
Harper raised a palm to her forehead, desperately trying not to let her emotions swirl out of control. Her pulsing mind began to spiral, and she closed her eyes, taking a few deep, calming breaths.
A firm squeeze of her other hand caught her attention. She snapped her eyes open.
“Harper.” The tone of his deep voice rolled over her name, soothing her churning insides. She looked into his clear blue eyes. “It’s going to be okay.” Squeezing her hand once more, he said, “You can do this.”
“How can you say that?” she whispered, wanting desperately to believe him. “You don’t even know me.”
“I know all I need to know.” His confidence in her was reassuring. She let it settle around her like a cozy blanket, warm and secure. “You’re strong. Inside and out. You can do this.”
Nodding, she covered their entwined hands with her other one. He gave her a quick nod back and put the car in motion down the isolated bumpy road. Clearing the last of the heavy trees, Bobby’s inviting home came into view.
The two-bedroom house was more like a log cabin, built of rich wood and surrounded by various small firs and cedars. And the dogwoods whose leaves added vibrant color when they adorned the now-bare branches. Acres and acres of forest enveloped the property, which was how Bobby loved it. It was his private haven of timberland. Serene and alive. But now it seemed still and lifeless.
Gravel crunched under the Land Rover’s chunky tires as they rolled to a stop near the back door. She’d told Rome to park in the back when he’d asked her earlier about cover. There was no garage, just a cleared space out front, enough for two, maybe three cars, and the one-car spot here in the back. He turned off the powerful engine with a twist of his wrist and jiggled the keys.
“Let’s go around front,” he said, opening the door and hopping out of the driver’s side.
She unlocked her door and slid out of the seat, hitting the gravel with a thud. Shutting the door, she saw Rome come to her side and pocket his keys. He gave her a soft, encouraging smile and nodded toward the house.
They moved around the side and approached the entryway, the aging floorboards creaking with their footsteps. Rome pulled out his gun and held it ready.
Harper gave him an inquiring look at the aggressive motion. He quirked a half smile at her. Should she be worried about something? Stepping ahead of her, Rome grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door opened easily when he slowly pushed inward. Pressing a finger to his lips in a shushing movement, he gripped his gun tightly and eased low through the door and disappeared. Harper remained silent outside on the porch.
A long moment later, Rome opened the door wide and gestured for her to go inside.
“It’s clear, but it’s been run through,” he said, expelling a breath and holstering his gun.
Gazing around the familiar confines in miserable shock, she saw what he meant. It did look like it had been run through. By a herd of wild animals.
Everything was wrecked. Everything. Furniture was upended. Books and papers littered the hardwood floor. The minimal knickknacks that Bobby had were either broken or discarded haphazardly. The inviting dark wood walls that made the home comfy and charming were bare. All the woodland paintings and mountain photographs were on the floor, with broken glass and bent frames.
Harper took a slow, deep breath and blinked away heavy tears. Somehow she’d known this was coming. After the vicious scene in the lab, she’d known this was a possibility.
But to be slapped in the face with this stung and was harder than she’d imagined. Seeing Bobby’s personal things treated like they were worthless and tossed around like yesterday’s trash was utterly devastating.
A strong hand on her back made her jump forward, knocking her shin hard against the solid leg of the upsidedown coffee table.
“Yow!” Harper exclaimed, bending over to run her hand across the quick-forming knot on her leg. “Don’t do that again. Please.”
“Sorry.” Rome rubbed her back with warm strokes. He could do that all he wanted. She was eternally grateful not to have to face this alone. “Let’s take a look around. We’re looking for anything they might have left behind. Anything that seems like it was gone through.”
“Everything looks like it was gone through,” she murmured, straightening.
Harper nimbly maneuvered through the debris toward the heavy brick fireplace that monopolized half the far wall. In the corner was a thick wooden shelving unit. Most of the shelves were missing, thrown about the room, except the middle one. The one that had held the carefully maintained glass cases of her swimming medals. The cases that were now shattered on the floor at her feet.
Bobby had asked to keep some of her medals here so that he could share her triumphs with her, even if they weren’t together.
She carefully picked up one of the fallen golden discs. It felt enormously heavy as she peered at it, the memories flooding her vision while she scanned the words.
U.S. Champion, 400-meter Individual Medley. Her best race. She’d set a record. And won this medal. The first of three golds at the Olympic team trials.
Running her thumb over the raised etchings, she remembered how proud Bobby had been. How proud she’d been. She’d won other competitions, but that was her first big one. Her first national gold. The one that set her on the path to reaching her dream to compete at the Olympics. And put her among the elite in the nation.
Harper gripped the medal tightly, realizing that she may never earn another one of these ever again.
“Is there an office or something?” Rome asked as he moved to her side, running his hand along the smooth wood of the empty shelf. His other hand rested on her shoulder, warm and encouraging. “Maybe he was working on a project of interest.”
“Yes,” Harper answered quietly, gently setting the medal next to his hand on the shelf. She turned away and moved toward the small hallway. “There’re only five rooms. This one, a bathroom, the kitchen, an office, and the bedroom.” She stopped outside the rectangular room that was Bobby’s office, looking over her shoulder to see Rome just behind her. “I usually slept on that couch.” She pointed to the sofa bed tucked in the corner. Its cushions were on the floor on top of some open file folders.
“I’ll go through this stuff.” Rome squeezed by her to enter the office, brushing his hard body against hers and giving her a reassuring pat. “Why don’t you check the bedroom?”
She watched him bend to one knee and start sifting through the papers on the floor, scanning each before he stacked them neatly to the side. The motion tightened his jeans against his taut rear. Though she was struggling mightily to hold her emotions in check, she let herself indulge in the ordinary act of appreciating the fine male specimen before her eyes.
Shaking her head, Harper paced down the hall to Bobby’s bedroom. Again, ugly destruction greeted her. She stood in the doorway and surveyed the morbid scene. In a daze, she walked in.
Picking up a rumpled T-shirt from the floor, she stared at the faded symbol of the Green Lantern. Bobby loved comic book heroes as much as she did. They had competitions of who could find the coolest vintage shirts of their favorites.
She carefully folded the shirt and held it in one hand as she reached with the other to pick up an upside-down wooden picture frame on the floor. Turning it over, she saw her own image next to Bobby’s through the cracked glass. They were facing the camera, each with an arm around the other’s shoulder in front of a glorious mountain backdrop.
Ah yes, their summer trip to Whistler a few years back. They’d ridden up the open chairlift to the summit of Whistler Mountain. Smiling, Harper remembered being absolutely petrified to ride the lift high above the craggy, rocky mountainside. Bobby had laughed at her anxiety, but had also held on to her arm with doting support and talked to her the whole way, both up and down, to keep her too distracted to freak out.
Her eyes misted over. She stood, then leaned back to sit on the disheveled bed. Bringing the shirt up to her face, she could faintly smell the fresh, cool scent of Bobby’s cologne.
The picture frame slid from her unsteady grasp, but she barely heard the thump as it hit the floor. Instead, she buried her face in Bobby’s well-worn T-shirt and finally let loose her crushing anguish.
It was just too much. Surrounded by Bobby’s things, knowing he’d never see them again was just too much. The silent tears just kept coming. And she didn’t even care to stop them.
She had no idea how long she’d been crying when she heard faint footsteps and felt the bed sink next to her. Strong arms circled her trembling shoulders and pulled her into a solid embrace. Leaning into the warm body, she heard Rome’s strong and comforting heartbeat while his hand made soothing patterns on her back.
Rome tightened his grip, startling her. She sniffled and raised her head to look at him. Head slightly tilted, he was clearly listening for something. He released her and stood silently, pulling his gun just seconds before she heard the front door crash open.