Undercover Passion. Melinda Di Lorenzo

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СКАЧАТЬ only reason the frightening possibility didn’t render her completely useless was that her mind was preoccupied with her daughter. She needed to hold on to some semblance of sanity. But it felt like a lifetime was passing as she waited. Had passed already. Liz knew that in reality it’d only been a minute. Maybe less. The proof was in Harley’s phone. The black device had flown off the table, and it now sat on the floor, propped against the bottom of the stove. She could see that there was still almost a minute left on the countdown, and the pre-bang conversation had to have lasted for at least fifteen minutes.

      But knowing just how short a time had actually passed did nothing to ease Liz’s sense of urgency. She itched to get up and make her way toward the hall that led to Teegan’s bedroom, and fixing her gaze on the doorway instead seemed like a shoddy substitute for action.

       Please hurry.

      She had to trust that Harley would be successful in retrieving her. He was stronger than she was. Obviously not as scared.

       But he’s not her mother.

      The thought spurred her to try to push up from the ground, but pain shot up her leg once again. And a glance down told her why. An inch-long gash in her jeans glared up at her. Crimson liquid oozing out a slash in the denim. It looked bad. Maybe not deadly, but definitely stitch-worthy.

      Wincing at the way it hurt, she reached across the floor and grabbed a wayward tea towel. She balled up the fabric and shoved it into the cut in her jeans to stanch the flow of blood. Thankfully, the bit of counterpressure offered a small amount of pain relief, too. She breathed out and gripped the edge of the table.

      “Liz.”

      At the sound of her name, she dragged her gaze up, and her whole body sagged with relief. Harley stood at the edge of the room, one hand grasping Teegan’s and the other holding her favorite purple backpack. Liz’s throat constricted. Her daughter looked tiny beside the big man. An odd mix of safe and vulnerable at the same time.

      Liz very nearly wanted to weep. And when Teegan disentangled herself from Harley’s grip and launched herself across the room and into her arms, a few unstoppable tears managed to squeeze through. But not many. Harley was quick to remind her that she didn’t have time to give in to the strong emotion.

      “We need to move,” he said. “If whatever that bang was started a fire, we only have minutes to get out.”

      “Right. Okay.”

      She gave her daughter a squeeze, then let her go, and braced herself for the pain of standing up. Sure enough, the fire bit into her thigh. But she refused to give in. She held her leg stiffly and raised her eyes to meet Harley’s gaze.

      “What’re we waiting for?”

      His stare dropped down. “You’re hurt.”

      “I’m fine,” she lied.

      “You sure?”

      “Yes. It’s just a cut.”

      “So prove it.”

      “What?”

      “Prove you’re fine. Walk from there to here.”

      “I—” She bit her lip.

      “That’s what I thought,” he said.

      He stepped forward, and she prepared for him to offer an arm. She bit her lip and pushed her pride aside. She’d lean on Harley—literally—if that meant getting her daughter to safety. She turned her face toward him to admit she’d need assistance. But she didn’t have to say it. Harley was already at her side, already bending down to scoop her up from the ground like she weighed nothing. It felt embarrassingly good to be cradled against his broad chest.

      “You don’t have to carry me,” Liz protested, wiggling a little.

      “I don’t have to,” Harley agreed. “But in the interest of expediency...”

      “What’s expediency?” Teegan piped up.

      “Getting somewhere faster than a snail can,” Harley replied easily.

      “I think you should let him carry you, Mom,” Teegan said.

      “Two against one,” he added.

      “All right,” he said, directing his words down to Teegan in a far more enthusiastic tone than Liz would’ve been able to manage. “Our mission is to get out. It might not be easy, but I have faith we can do it. What about you?”

      Teegan nodded. “Me, too.”

      “Okay. You have to carry the bag, take the rear flank and protect us from back there. Oh. And hold on to the bottom of my shirt so you don’t get left behind,” Harley instructed.

      “Got it!” Liz’s daughter agreed, her small hand coming out to clutch tightly to the dark-haired man’s clay-covered T-shirt.

      But they only made it as far as opening the door a crack.

      Acrid smoke was creeping up from the bottom of the stairs, blocking the escape route.

      Harley stepped back into the apartment quickly, Teegan still clutching his shirt and Liz still held firmly against his chest.

      He silently cursed the fact that he’d let his guard down long enough to not predict that something was about to happen. He’d known something was wrong. He was sure it had something to do with both the hooded man and Jesse Garibaldi. It was the whole reason he’d been so eager to stay for dinner. Yet he hadn’t pursued it. Hadn’t pushed Liz to tell him what she knew, when he knew perfectly well that was exactly what he should’ve done.

       But you had time to kiss her.

      He growled silently at himself for his weakness.

      Even now, as he carried Liz up the hall and toward the kitchen, her ample curves fit against him in the most distracting way possible. That hint of floral perfume swirled up and filled his nose, making him want to draw in a deep breath after deep breath. The way he held her meant the soft skin on the inside of her arm stayed pressed firmly to the back of his hand.

      It was both a relief and a regret to set her down.

      It made him irritated at himself. Not because it took away from his ability to do his job—though maybe that should’ve been more of a factor than it was—but because it hampered him in keeping Teegan and Liz safe. He’d let down his guard, and now they were in danger.

      They were just lucky that whoever set off the explosion hadn’t come upstairs first.

       Or maybe luck has nothing to do with it. Maybe the culprits just didn’t care what happened after.

      After all, he knew from experience that Garibaldi had a thing for using pipe bombs to cover his tracks. It was what had started this whole quest for justice to start out with. What killed his father.

      “Harley?”

      Liz’s small, worried voice drew СКАЧАТЬ