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“Am I in troubles?” Brianna, her blond curls glinting like gold in the morning sun, wrinkled her nose as she looked up at Harper.
Giving the tiny hand tucked securely within hers a soft rub, Harper smiled down at her daughter. “No!” She put as much cheer and happiness as she could muster into the one word. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all,” she assured the little girl, fully aware, even if others weren’t, how much Brianna grasped from the adults living around her.
“Why did I hafta go to Miss Sara during my reg’lar day?”
Harper smiled down at her. She’d had no time to prepare for the meeting with Miriam and Mason. To avail herself of informational chats with the professionals around her. To gather facts.
“It’s just like she told you, Brie.” She kept her tone light and at the same time reassuring. “Gram’s going to be staying here for a couple of weeks and we wanted you to know.”
Brianna nodded. Just as she’d done in Sara’s office. When the counselor had asked if Brianna had any questions, she’d shaken her head. Harper had been working at The Lemonade Stand since she’d left Bruce, which meant Brianna had grown up there, in day care, from the time she was three months old. How much the little girl knew about the Stand, about the work they did, no one could really tell. Sara had stressed from the very beginning of Harper’s employment that the less the little ones knew, the better. She’d said that kids tended to see what they needed to see, unless someone else pointed out bad to them.
Even many of the younger resident children living with them didn’t know why they were there. They might’ve been aware there was a fight if they’d witnessed it, or abuse if they’d suffered from it, but often they didn’t know.
When Brianna had seemed unconcerned about her Gram being there, other than asking when she’d get to see her, Sara had sent Harper a glance and taken the child’s cue.
The rest of their time together had been spent chatting about Brianna’s visits with her dad. About the places they went, the games they played, what they ate and bedtime rituals when they were together. She got Brianna to ramble on about all kinds of things, watching for any sign of unrest. There’d been absolutely none—to Harper’s total, weak-kneed relief.
“Is Gram mad at Daddy?” Brianna asked now, her voice concerned.
“No! Of course not!” she answered automatically, wondering if this was one of those signs Sara had been looking for. “Do you think she should be?”
“Nooo.”
She’d never, for one second, thought Bruce was a danger to their daughter, to anyone. And yet Mason had managed to make her doubt. But the fact that Lila had believed him, that had thrown her. Lila wasn’t easily fooled.
And for what purpose would Mason have done this? None that she could find.
She stared at the top of her daughter’s head, feeling...lost. Unsure of herself. Not something she usually had to deal with—especially where Brianna was concerned. Motherhood had come naturally to her, maybe because she loved it so much.
“Why did you ask if Gram was mad at Daddy?” She had to check.
Even Brianna’s shrug was reassuring; the little girl wouldn’t be so casual if she was going through a traumatic moment. “Gram takes care of Daddy and she can’t do that here ’cause it’s a far drive in the car.”
“Daddy’s a big boy, Brie. He knows how to cook and do laundry and stuff.”
“But...why did Gram leave him all alone?”
A small piece of the world righted itself. She was concerned about her father. That was all. Just like she worried about leaving Harper alone every time she went to her father’s house.
“She wanted a little vacation. You know, like when we go to Disneyland. For Gram, this place, with the gardens and everything, is like her Disneyland. She can read and walk and do crafts with other ladies and not have to cook and clean. Plus, she wanted to be able to see you every day. With Daddy coming down to Santa Raquel for visits now, Gram doesn’t get to see you as much.”
“He said he could bring her.”
“I know. And I’m sure he will, but he’s on a job and she missed you!”
There was no way Miriam would tell Brianna anything different. According to Lila, the woman was adamantly protecting her grandson. And Harper didn’t doubt Miriam’s love for Brianna or ability to care for her in the slightest. With her hand in Harper’s, Brianna swung their arms and skipped one step. “So can I see her today? When I get done with playtime?”
After-school playtime signaled the end of Brianna’s day at the Stand.
“Maybe before that,” Harper told her. “Maybe, just for today, you could miss playtime and play with Gram instead. Would you like that?”
“Yeah!” Brianna skipped again. “I would love that, Mommy. Can I? Can I, please?”
“I’ll see if it can be arranged,” Harper said, not promising anything until she’d met with Miriam herself. Which, she remembered with a knot in her stomach, she was on her way to do as soon as she dropped off Brianna at her preschool class.
“Yaayyy!” Brianna squealed. And then, looking up at Harper with an innocence that touched all the way to Harper’s soul, said, “You’re the mommy I always wanted. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweet pea.” Harper’s eyes were uncharacteristically misty as she pulled open the door that led to Brianna’s class.
You’re the baby I always wanted. She used to tell her baby that—in the womb—and later, too, as she’d been starting a new life in a new town with a new job, and a three-month-old baby to provide for. All alone.
You’re the baby I always wanted. She’d told the baby that to remind herself. And to make sure Brianna knew, that even though she was being raised by a single parent, she was wanted more than anything.
You’re the baby I always wanted.
Brianna just hadn’t had the father Harper had wanted for her.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_7ef9c5d8-a251-5567-887a-c78e3976edc3)
ONE OF MASON’S sought-after skills was his ability to home in on the smallest things. To see what the eye generally passed over. Like a tiny pencil mark on the wall. Or patterns that fallen cookie crumbs left behind. He had no magical powers, no special sense that others didn’t have; he just paid attention.
To everything.
Growing up with a little brother out to stab you in the back did that to a guy. Especially when your folks expected you to protect that younger sibling. The cherry on top had been the fact that he truly loved his brother—and knew Bruce loved him, too. Mason believed, even now, that each of them would die for the other.
All of this made his current situation as close to untenable as it ever got for him. Mostly, he just moved on through, no matter what muck he might find himself standing in. Taking it on the chin was also one of his perfected skills. Or drawing the hurt—the contradictions—inside himself.
Six of one, half a dozen of another...
“There she is.” Miriam’s half-mumbled, somewhat ornery remark took him by surprise. He’d been watching for Harper for more than half an hour and yet he hadn’t been the first to see her.
His skills seemed to desert him when she was around.
“Harper.” He stood. Held out a hand to her, not to shake, but to guide her to the third chair he’d pulled up. Without touching her, of course.
That was a mistake he’d never make again. Touching her.
“Well, you must be pleased,” Miriam said by way of greeting, and Mason frowned. What the hell? He’d never seen his grandmother be this downright ungracious. Vindictive. Mean.
I told you so was all over the look Harper sent him.
“Gram.” Mason wasn’t going to ignore the rudeness, regardless of the situation. “I can’t believe you just said that. You know damn well that Harper doesn’t want you hurt. And she doesn’t want the father of her child in trouble, either.” If he hadn’t been sure of that before his meeting with her that morning, he certainly was afterward.
While he didn’t understand it, couldn’t dissect it and study it, he’d always been aware of Bruce’s special charm. People gravitated to him. Liked him. Stuck up for him. Their parents and Mason included. And, apparently, that charm even worked with ex-wives.
Gram’s bent head made him feel a second of shame, and he regretted the harshness of his words, if not the sentiment. He recognized that he’d overreacted in his somewhat primitive male desire to protect a woman he’d once gone to bed with—
Nope. Not going there.
“You’re right,” Gram said before he could rectify what he’d said. She looked at Harper. “I apologize for my rudeness. But I don’t think you’re happy to have me here.”
What?
“I’m not happy you’re in this situation,” Harper said, then sat forward, her hands on the table in front of her. Open. Not clasped. She had nothing to hide, he translated. “But how I feel doesn’t enter into this,” she continued, sounding like a doctor breaking bad news, or a reporter on television. Compassionate and yet...professionally distant.
He glanced away, but not soon enough. The serious look in her eyes, the softness of her expression, even the damned uniform—it was all a turn-on.
Which made him a creep.
Or a man who’d been without a woman for far too long and unexpectedly saw one with whom he’d had a night of incredible sex.
Being turned on was preferable to giving in to the myriad of emotions vying for his attention. Fear for his family was at the top of that list.
If it took a sexual memory to get him through this...
“My job here, first off,” Harper was saying, “is to verify that you signed the VNL freely and of your own accord. The voluntary no release form.”
Chin tight, Miriam nodded. “I did.”
“Then it’s my responsibility to make sure you don’t leave. And that no one gets in who could do you harm. I’ll be assigning around-the-clock duty to you, which, at times, will include me. My officers and I will keep our distance, and do everything we can not to impinge on your privacy, but we will be present, at all times, as set out in the VNL. Are you in agreement with these terms?”
Gram’s glance in Mason’s direction seemed to waver for a second—almost to the point of vulnerability. He met her eyes. He felt a driving need to promise her that everything was going to be fine.
It was a promise he couldn’t make, and the words caught in his throat.
“I am in agreement.” Gram turned back to Harper.
Mason had to hand it to Harper. Her gaze remained straightforward, her face unsmiling. There was no sign of victory, or even of satisfaction in having Miriam agreeing to do as she said. Of having Miriam in a position of needing her.
“I’ll make this as painless as I possibly can,” Harper said. “Including keeping myself off your detail as much as I can.”
“I appreciate that. You being around as little as possible.”
Wow. Gram wasn’t letting up on her obvious dislike of Bruce’s ex. In all his years, Mason had never seen his grandmother behave this way. He wondered, for a second, if she was starting to lose her faculties. Bruce had assured him she wasn’t. Mason’s earlier concern about Gram’s aging hadn’t had anything to do with her mind; it had been due more to her lack of energy. Emotional and physical.
“That’s all I need, then.” Harper stood. “If you have any problems, if something alarms you or bothers you, even a little, don’t hesitate to speak to my team. Any time of the day or night. That’s what we’re here for.”
“Thank you.” Gram stood, too, and Mason saw the move for the power play it was. Miriam was going to stand up to Harper every step of the way.
With a nod toward Mason, Harper turned to leave. “Wait.” Gram’s voice, calling her back, filled Mason with a sense of relief. His grandmother was going to make this right.
And he wanted Harper back, too. They hadn’t spoken about Bruce yet. He’d hoped the two women would talk. That Harper would convince Gram to tell them what had happened. Convince her, too, that it would be best for Bruce in the long run if they could get him help.
When Harper had turned back, Gram said, “What about Brianna? When do I get to see her?”
Wow, again. This was so not the way to get what you wanted, by speaking with antagonism toward the person who could provide it. Or not...
“I told her she could see you during her afternoon playtime. Would that work for you?”
Gram blinked and Mason almost smiled. Except that it would be a result of seeing his grandmother put in her place. He didn’t want that to happen. He just wanted her rudeness to stop. Mostly because it was so out of character. And maybe, a little, because it was directed at Harper. Unfairly.
“That would be fine,” Gram said.
“One of my officers will deliver her to your bungalow and stay there while she’s with you, in addition to the officer who’ll be on duty assigned to you.” Harper named a time. “If that’s okay, Brianna can stay with you until I’m ready to head home. At that point, her officer will deliver her back to me.”
“That’s okay with me, as long as you aren’t the officer.” Gram wasn’t giving an inch.
Harper had just given miles.
And Mason had no idea where to go with any of it.
* * *
HARPER WAS UNUSUALLY off her mark for the rest of the day. Other than the hysterical crying bout she’d suffered five years before, after discovering that her fiancé had been unfaithful to her shortly before their wedding, she’d never had drama moments in her life. She just wasn’t the sort.
And yet, all day Tuesday, she was...jittery. She’d seen Mason. The sky hadn’t fallen in. She hadn’t died, or melted into a puddle on the floor. She hadn’t even been filled with rage at the callous way he’d disappeared from her life without so much as a phone call in five years’ time.
Not that she could blame him, she supposed. She hadn’t called him, either.
But now, her not calling seemed...worse, because the only reason he hadn’t contacted her was that he thought it was at her bidding. He’d been honoring a request he’d believed had come from her. Whereas she hadn’t contacted him because she’d simply chosen not to. Most of the day she managed to avoid thinking about that revelation. Lives depended on her ability to focus, and she gave her job every ounce of herself when she was on duty. Tuesday was no different. Cameras provided around-the-clock surveillance at all times. And every single unidentifiable individual who lingered too long on the block that fronted the Stand, or frequented any of the Stand-run shops there on numerous occasions, was quietly and efficiently investigated. Rounds were done on a regular basis. Gates, locks and bungalows were checked at least once an hour, although residents were never disturbed unless necessary. She ran regular background checks on anyone who was employed by, volunteered at or visited the Stand. She also had daily meetings with the Stand executive staff, so she always knew what events were coming up and could ensure they’d be properly guarded. Those meetings also allowed her to know—and to let her officers know—which of their residents might be having a particularly hard day, which ones had recently had contact with family members, and those whose abusers were known to be agitated or on the hunt. At every shift change, she had an update meeting with her own staff of fifteen. That afternoon, she passed around Miriam’s guard schedule and disclosed, to the few who were still unaware, that the woman was her former grandmother-in-law. Without criticizing Miriam, she disclosed that the older woman wasn’t all that fond of her. She gave instructions that Miriam was to see Brianna every day if she chose, but only with an officer assigned to Brianna present at all times.
Maybe that last part was overkill. Until a month ago Brianna had spent the night in Miriam’s home every other weekend without any guard detail at all. But that was before Harper had learned that Miriam was being abused and lying about it. Whether Bruce was her abuser, or she’d had someone else in their home without his knowledge, the fact remained that Miriam was protecting someone who’d hurt her.
After her last meeting she could’ve packed it in, called for Brianna, gone home. Instead she cleaned up the small pile of paperwork from the in-box at the corner of her desk. Watered her plants. And then texted Alissa, the guard she’d assigned to her daughter for the afternoon, asking her to bring Brianna up to the main building.
The rest of the evening, until Brianna’s bedtime, would be consumed by her chattering, her constant questions and observations. It was the lifeblood that kept Harper going. The source of her true happiness.
Maybe they’d go out for French fries. Not healthy, not something they did often, but a treat they both loved. She was thinking about Uncle Bob’s, a beachfront restaurant not far from their town house. There were sandboxes for kids to play in while waiting for their food; that would distract Brianna, giving Harper a few minutes to think her own thoughts. Or at least a few minutes during which Brianna wouldn’t notice her mother’s preoccupation.
She’d just received an affirmative response from Alissa that they’d be along shortly, when her cell rang. Her stomach lurched as she saw Mason’s newly programmed name flash on her screen. She’d given him her private number but she hadn’t expected him to use it.
“Yeah, Mason, what’s up?” she answered. Straight to the point. All business. Racing right by social niceties like “hello” and “how are you?”
“I’d like to stop by tonight. I have some questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“An official interview of a suspect’s ex-wife.” She heard no emotion in his delivery. Oddly enough, instead of calming her, that seemed to put her more on edge. “I’ve been asked by the Albina police force to pursue this case quietly, to protect my brother, whichever way it goes.”
“I don’t have anything to add to what I told you this morning.”
She was a cop. If she were Mason, she’d be after the interview herself. So why was she prevaricating?
“The interview is official, Harper.”
Heart thumping, she sat behind her desk, watching the door for her daughter to burst through. “Bruce has been charged?”
“No. You remember Clark O’Brien?”
