Beneath the Palisade (17 page)

“Shut up, are you serious?” Ian was shocked. He’d never even entertained the idea.

“As a gunshot. She told me today her partner, Monica, is an OB/GYN in one of the ’burbs.”

“A what?” He speculated this was a doctor of some type but wasn’t sure.

“A doctor who specializes in delivering babies and treating girlie parts… I think.”

“How convenient.”

“Anyway, she and Monica are heading up to the North Shore tomorrow for a long weekend.” Harper stopped at the curb to wait for a produce truck to lumber by.

The North Shore again. That’s twice in one day.

“Have you ever been to the North Shore?” Ian thought most Minnesotans had been at one point or another. Growing up in Iowa, Harper might have missed out.

“Well, kinda sorta maybe. I stayed in Duluth one weekend for a bar association meeting. I loved it. These huge taconite freighters sailed in and out of the harbor. We should go there sometime.”

“Yeah, once things have settled down, let’s do that. I haven’t been in years. It’s beautiful.” He locked arms with his man as they walked to the car.

H
ARPER
pointed the remote at the television and surfed through his movie options. It was strange being at home during the day and not at the firm. A brief conversation a few days earlier with Duncan Price had reminded him he wasn’t missing much. Just the sound of the partner’s voice repulsed him.
How in the hell did I ever put up with those dickheads as long as I did?
Duncan had assured him he could take all the time he needed before returning, and he planned on doing just that and more. Although he hadn’t voiced this to Ian or anyone else, his mind was made up. He wasn’t going back. If there was a positive to pull out of the shooting, it was the strong desire for change that had emerged. It was more than changing firms. He somehow sensed that wouldn’t be enough. No, he was talking big change here. But what that change would be, could be, eluded him. He needed to hash this one out a bit more before he went public.

And it wasn’t just his job or career he was evaluating.
What have I done with my life so far?
To a certain extent, he reasoned, your life does pass before you when you come face to face with the prospect of dying. It’s a sobering moment, and it forces you to evaluate. It forces you to do an honest appraisal of your existence to date, and in the process, you somehow become aware of ideas, concepts, things you’d never thought about.
I’m not sure, before all of this happened, I could even begin to understand or appreciate the value Ian’s brought to my life.

Settling on the epic
Cleopatra
, a movie he’d watched as a boy with his grandmother, he dropped the remote to his side and closed his eyes. His back ached despite the adjustable mattress. Everyone from his doctor to his physical therapist insisted rest was the key to a speedy recovery. Like an assignment in law school, he decided to strive for an A. It was working. The pain in his ribcage had subsided considerably, and he was gaining strength in his arm daily.
I can’t wait for this nightmare to be behind me.

Bored out of his mind, he preferred to actually sleep as opposed to rest, but today, like so many others before it, dozing off was a challenge. He had tried focusing on the image of his handsome boyfriend traipsing around somebody’s yard in those hot shorts and boots. A counterproductive visual, he had determined, after spending the next thirty minutes trying to make his dick deflate.

How many millions did they spend on this film?
Without looking at the television, he knew from memory that soon after the Overture was concluded, Cleopatra would make her entrance, rolled out of a rug at Julius Caesar’s feet. If he fell asleep before that scene, he’d watch it later, with Ian.
Does he like movies like this? I should ask him.
He yawned, and his eyes watered. He wiped his face with his pillow. The volume was perfect, loud enough that he could plug in to the plot if he wanted yet low enough to ignore. The noise from a garbage truck in the alley battled Caesar and the gang before a single enemy threatened him on screen. Harper caught himself drifting off.

“
T
HE
dwarf lilacs look great. Is it a new distributor?” Ian revisited the design on his clipboard. He hadn’t thought of it, but lilac might be the perfect solution for the Morrisons’ driveway. Becca Morrison had requested a border shrub that would effectively create a barrier between the edge of her driveway and her next door neighbors’, who she despised.

“Nope. I’m still getting them from Thompson’s, the grower from Wadena I was complaining about last year. He’s finally getting it—that I won’t settle for his hand-me-down crap. I tell ya what, use them on your project and I’ll knock off ten percent. I want to show him I can move his product if he provides me with plants I can sell.” Andy pulled one of the shrubs out into the aisle for him to inspect closer. “Remember the pruning issue with these? They bloom on old wood so you have to be careful.”

“Leave it to you to be an expert on ‘old’ wood,” Ian quipped, stepping a few paces back to reduce any impulse Andy might have to belt him one.

“Why I oughtta….” Andy laughed. “So, you can take ten of these off my hands?”

“I’ve got the room to take fifteen. Deal?”

“Deal. I’ll have Emmett pull them this afternoon. Is Harper coming to the game tonight?” They walked back to the office.

“Yep. He’s been talking about it since the weekend. We sure had fun at Spencer and Allison’s, by the way. Spencer grilled ribs. Man, he’s got those nailed.” His stomach rumbled at the memory.

“I was so pissed off I couldn’t make it. Emmett and I were here until almost eleven Saturday night waiting for a semi full of annuals from that outfit in Iowa. By the time we helped unload it, it was midnight. I think the scumbag driver has a squeeze in every port, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I ended up taking Emmett out for pizza. I think all my efforts with the kid are finally paying off. Last week he kicked good-for-nothing Trevor to the curb and decided to try living on his own for the first time. I hate to go there, but man, it would be nice to have a mini-me by the name of Emmett around here I could trust. You know, so I could get away from the business now and then and not worry.”

He heard something in Andy’s voice just then that caused him to take notice.
Was he? Naw, it couldn’t be.
This special interest his best friend was taking in the hired help, was there more to it?

“Well I’ve told you this a million times, but now with Harper in the picture, you still need to know I’ll be here for you whenever I can.”

“Thanks. What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?”

“Well….” Sex hadn’t occupied his thoughts to this degree even as a teenager.

“What’s it like having Studly Do-Me-Right home at your beck and call?”

It was heaven. His man was on the mend, and life was good. “It’s tough, but somebody’s got to do it, and do it, and—”

“Okay, I asked for that. Go on with your nasty self, and I’ll see you tonight. You’re picking me up, right?”

“Yes, sir! Hey, do you know if Allison’s coming?” Ian asked. “She’s his new best friend.”

“That’s funny.” Andy stopped and turned around. “She is coming. According to Spencer, the feeling is mutual. She likes Harper way better than she likes the rest of us. Later!”

L
IGHTNING
flashed far off in the distance. Steam rose from the warm cobblestones. A soft rain fell. Harper, a hood draped over his head, stepped tentatively out of the shadows and peered down the narrow alley and listened. The noise from a distant tavern spilled out into the street. Confident the coast was clear, he crossed to the other side and stopped inside a doorway. Around a corner he heard the drunken banter of men approaching. Hoping to escape notice, he backed into the corner of the jamb and lowered his body until his knees jutted out in front. He held his breath.

“I wonder if they’ve found him yet,” a low voice asked only a few feet away.

“Trust me, we’d know if they had,” another voice slurred close by.

Harper’s heart pounded so hard he feared it would give him away. His strong legs ached at being forced into such a tight constraint. Worse, his nose began to itch, a telltale sign a sneeze was brewing.
Oh please, please keep moving.

Inches from his hideaway, a powerful spray splashed against the brick, its pungent odor unmistakable. Moments later, a second spray took over as the first ebbed.

“If I get my hands on him,” the slurred voice bragged with a noticeable tone of relief, “I’ll castrate him and bleed him to death.”

“That’s too good for him,” the low voice warned. “I’d cover him with honey, string him to a post in the field, and then let the ants and bees have their way. They’d drive him crazy before they ate him alive.”

Harper pinched his nose, hoping to control the sneeze rising to the surface. His eyes watered as he trembled in the darkness. A few moments of sheer terror passed before the men crossed in front and continued down the alley, their sandals snapping against the wet pavers.

Harper removed his hand from his nose and eased himself back up. He peered out and watched the men increase their distance. When it felt safe to move on, he continued his zigzagging journey, crossing from doorway to doorway until he reached the top of the hill where the narrow alley forked. There were risks in either direction. Stepping back into the shadow, he contemplated his options. With apprehension, he chose a course to the left and what he hoped would be an opportunity to slip out of the city unnoticed. But first, he’d have to make it across the square undetected.

Approaching the large open area, he crouched behind a wooden cart and waited. It would be to his advantage to stay to the left as he worked his way along the wall of shops and residences. Light spilled out of a doorway midway between where he was now and where he wanted to end up, an added risk that could not be avoided. If he remembered correctly, the entrance belonged to a laundress. He would have to cross the pool of light. There wasn’t another option—moving through the center of the square unnoticed would be next to impossible. Even with the hour being late, there would be merchants lingering about. If one of them recognized him, it would be all over. The reward for his capture was too enticing to ignore.

Filling his lungs to bolster confidence, he exhaled and dashed from the protection of the cart to the perimeter of the courtyard. Before he made another move, he stopped and listened.
Proceed with caution.
Tight to the wall, he crept stealthily along. A hissing cat darted out from behind a barrel, causing his heart to leap into his throat. He took refuge behind the barrel and waited for his breathing to calm.

Beads of sweat ran down his face as he resumed his journey. He approached the lit doorway. Close enough now to hear noises from within, he inched along the brick wall. The woman wasn’t alone. He heard men’s voices. They were arguing. Shadows in the light grew more frantic, and Harper flattened himself against the wall when the stooped figure of the laundress stepped out of the doorway, tossing a bucket of water into the street with the force of a woman much younger. As she turned to reenter the shop, Harper sneezed.

The woman stopped in her tracks. “Who is there?”

Harper froze.

“Brutus,” the woman hollered.

Run or die!

Harper overcame his inability to move and dashed from the wall into the center of the plaza. Narrow walkways bisected the mass of makeshift shops and tents.

“Stop him!” a voice roared from behind.

“Kill him if you have to!” another shouted.

He overturned crates and carts in an attempt to slow his assailants but was forced to stop for a second to get his bearings.
Oh my God, which way? There’s no exit on what side… Harper, what side? Try and remember; it’s your life!
Catching sight of the enemy, a group of a half-dozen men, Harper collapsed a tent as he ran under it and prayed he was headed in the right direction. Rounding a pen of goats, he bolted past three men huddled over a small fire only to discover he’d chosen the wrong way. Like a caged animal, he searched in vain for an opening until a barrier of spears backed him into a corner.

“How long did you think you’d be able to hide from our queen?”

Harper’s heart exploded inside his chest.

“Take him away. Take him to the queen.”

His hands were bound behind his back with straps of thin leather. He was beaten by the shaft of a sword and forced out of the plaza toward the palace. Hauled up the steps of the great marble fortress, Harper was dragged through the halls and down a series of stairs lit by torches to the dungeon, where he was thrown to the floor. When he looked up, to his horror, he saw Ian, strung up from the rafter by his hands. His feet dangled off the ground, his body covered with lash marks.

“Noooooooooo! Iannnnnnnnnn! God… please… noooooooooo!” A hard kick to the stomach silenced him. Before he knew what was happening, a foot plastered his face to the floor. Either his pulse or the sound of distant drums pounded inside his head.

“Well, what have we here?” Harper lay motionless, his vision limited to the surrounding sandals of his captors.

The sound of the drums increased. “I warned you. I warned you, and you chose not to listen.” The voice, filled with anger, grew more forceful.

“Ian had nothing to do with this. He’s innocent. Please stop hurting him.” Harper began to weep. “Please stop….” The sound of a whip lashed through the air. Ian screamed out in pain.

“Did you not think I would have my revenge? How arrogant of you.”

“Please don’t hurt him anymore.” Harper’s vision blurred as he fought to stay conscious.

“Aren’t you the valiant one, begging for your little boyfriend’s life. You make me sick!”

That voice. That evil voice. It was so familiar. It wasn’t the voice he had expected.

It’s her!

Using every ounce of strength he could call upon, Harper pried himself up off the stone floor to confirm what he feared more than anything. Leering down at him from her gilded throne sat Queen Phyllis Flynn.