Hold My Heart (8 page)

“Here we go,” he says, all businesslike as we reach the exit ramp off the highway.

Agent Colton is back, and Tommy is gone.

قلب

I doze off, only to hear “Lil” over and over again. When I open my eyes, we’re just outside of Bloomingfield. Scrubbing my face, I straighten in my seat and take in the scenery. We’re heading west toward town. On the way, we pass old train tracks, and the largest abandoned factory I’ve ever seen. The huge, dark-brick building is at least four stories high and takes up about a block. What were once large glass windows are now smashed holes, debris outlines the entire structure, like some sort of explosion that took decades, slowly destroying what was once full of life. Add some craters throughout the brick, and memories of the buildings out in Afghanistan pop right into my head. I can’t peel my eyes away from the massive factory. I almost expect small children to run around, scavenging the debris, using the shards left as a playground.

The
Welcome to Bloomingfield
sign, complete with Rotary Club and
Home of the Tigers
emblems, is up ahead. Seems like a nice enough town with cute Victorian houses fully restored and serving as antique stores, realtors, and even attorneys’ offices. After a traffic light or two, we’re in the center of town, which features most of the original architecture of well-preserved brick buildings with beautiful full storefronts.

However, the businesses occupying the structures are a far cry from the original businesses that might have resided there eighty years ago. A rounded-corner, stone building with ornate walls is a Walgreens, next to a McDonald’s, and across from what looked to be a hardware store almost a hundred years ago, and is now a Starbucks. Perfect. It will be opening soon, so I’ll make a coffee run after we reach our destination.

Leaving Main Street behind, we hit a smaller country road, the occasional large farmhouse serving as a landmark along with a few trees losing their leaves. One house in particular catches my eye; it has the most beautiful color contrast. A homey feeling blooms inside my chest, making me ache for things I can’t have. Before I can dwell on the thought, we speed right by it, the beautifully restored farmhouse just another blip of life passing me by. Sighing, I lean back and focus on the horizon. I catch a glimpse of Tommy admiring the same house, before quickly looking back to the road. Neither of us has said one word since our fight.

When we finally reach the scene, we park behind one of the cruisers and get out, but not before I grab my holstered Glock, my badge, cuffs, and phone.

Once out of the car, the first thing I do is head for the abandoned vehicle. I pocket my iPhone and open my jacket, clipping my weapon, cuffs, and badge to my waist. Tommy heads over to talk to the local PD already at the scene.

The cold air nips at my fingers and my breath forms thin clouds in front of my face. A quick peek inside the stolen vehicle reveals nothing out of place.

Out here on this dark country road, everything is eerily quiet, except for the low murmurs and activity of law enforcement. The early morning dawn casts a dim glow over the tall grassy field, painting the tips golden, and the light breeze caressing the grass makes it sway side-to-side, creating a peaceful, hypnotic effect. The sky is clear and cloudless. The cold crisp air smells of moist earth, dry leaves, and impending winter. I’m grateful we haven’t had any rain or snow to corrupt the scene. I don’t want to lose any potential evidence.

“Harper,” Tommy calls me over to where he is standing by the side of the road with an older uniformed officer. When I reach them, Tommy introduces us.

“Officer Fulton, this is my partner, FBI Special Agent Harper.”

“Anything?” I ask Fulton, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. Instead, he addresses Tommy.

“Nothing, it's as if he vanished. We’re doing a door-to-door canvas of the vicinity, just in case he’s still in the area.”

“I called for a canine unit, they should be here soon,” Tommy says to the senior cop. “We’ll do a second sweep, maybe the dogs will pick up something.”

Fulton continues to confer with Tommy, ignoring me. I’ve dealt with my share of discrimination during my career, especially from old timers like this guy. It’s gotten better but not enough for my tastes. Sometimes I just need Colton to do this thing; he can deal with this guy. I look at my watch. Starbucks will be opening soon, so I decide to make a coffee run. They’re still in the middle of a conversation as Tommy tries to veer the discussion my way, but this jerk is hopeless.

“All right, Colton, I’m going to get us some coffee. I’ll be right back.” I stick my hand out for his keys, which he reluctantly gives up. That Charger is his baby, yet he’s letting me drive it. I know what that means. Officer Big Pants is going to get an earful. I grin to myself, swinging the keys around on my finger, and head to the car to get my caffeine fix.

قلب

Back from my coffee run, I pull up to the scene. As soon as I get out of the car, I spot Tommy. He looks tired, his white shirt wrinkled, a few more buttons opened. The stubble along his chin is more prominent and his green eyes are dull, and the lids puffy. Walking over with the drink carrier, I hand him one of the hot coffees, which he gratefully accepts. Even though the rising sun edges up on the horizon, a cutting chill still shows our breath.

“Anything?”

“No. Canine is en route,” he answers, cradling the hot cup with both hands.

I look out into the field. There’s nothing but tall prairie grass, scattered trees lining the view—not a building in sight. How far could this guy have gotten on foot? He has to be out there somewhere; after all, the car is still here. The scanner has been silent. The APB is out, but no sightings. Humming tickles the soles of my feet through my shoes. My wheels start turning. I have to go out there and take a look. I just have to. But Tommy needs a break.

I know that face. I saw it plenty of times in the desert. He’s gone without sleep for well over twenty-four hours. Who knows what time he went to bed at my place? All those empty beer bottles on the floor, fighting some inner battle he won’t tell me about.

I gotta get rid of him. It’s the only way I’ll be able to check things out.

“Go home, and take a nap, Colton. I'll stay and call if anything comes up,” I say, casually sipping my coffee.

He looks around, taking in the scene, so I press on. “Come on, when was the last time you slept? Either you go take a nap in your toasty apartment or you’ll pass out in the back seat out here in the freezing cold.” I give him a small smile and adjust the wool winter cap Mrs. N knitted for me.

His forehead creases as he examines me. “I don’t know, Harper. Are you sure?” He’s hesitant to go, but I know he’s dead tired. His suit lapel is raised up in a weak attempt to cover his frozen ears, along with his tensed, bunched up shoulders.

“I’m sure.” I tip my coffee cup his way. “I got my caffeine fix. I’ll text Nelson and Ryan to see if they can give us a hand. Besides, we’ll be at this for a long while. I’ll call you if I need you.”

He’s still not moving; uncertainty evident in his demeanor.

“Come on, you’re freezing.” I hand him my coffee, and for some inexplicable reason, I remove my cap and put it on his head, adjusting the sides so they cover his ears. Perhaps it’s my way to reassure him that I’ll be okay. “No hurry. Take a nap, I’ll be right here.” I grab my hot coffee from him and slowly take a sip.

After pondering, he looks around once again, down at his clothes, and makes a decision.

“All right, call me if something comes up. I just need a quick shower and a change of clothes, and I’ll head right back.” He rubs his head, enjoying the warmth my cap provides. The sight of his large masculine frame in an Armani suit and a homemade wool cap entices a small grin from my lips. I say my goodbyes.

I’m walking away to join the uniformed officers gathered by the side of the road, when Tommy’s voice stops me.

“
Li
-Harper?”

I turn to him and find his gaze locked on me, his handsome face filled with anguish and a hint of worry.

“I...we need to talk.”

I know we do, and I’m glad he’s ready to come clean with whatever is going on inside his head. “I know. We've almost got him. We'll grab a drink after, okay?”

He nods. I’ve never been good at staying mad at him for long.

He hesitates before speaking again. “Are
we
okay?” His brow wrinkles in worry, his tired eyes narrowing in question.

I know exactly what he's asking, and there’s only one way to answer.

“Always.” And I truly mean it.

I smile at him, and his weary face transforms, his dull green eyes glinting with a renewed sparkle. His mouth stretches from ear to ear, revealing his signature drop-dead smile. He seems re-energized, the anguish and worry fading, leaving him looking like a boy who just kissed his date on her doorstep. Walking to his car with a spring in his step, he jumps in and then he’s gone.

قلب

After texting Nelson and Ryan, I’m standing by the side of the road, still waiting on the canine unit. ERT is processing the scene, but nothing has turned up so far and forensics is just getting started.

The tall grass sways, whispering my name. The golden specks of sunlight illuminate the entire field, beckoning me, welcoming me in. The humming that was tickling my feet has worked its way to my spine. Whatever this is, I’m but a piece of metal being pulled by a magnet.

I
have
to go in.

I decide to go ahead and investigate on my own. Maybe he walked all the way to the other side, had another vehicle waiting.

I work my way to the edge of the road, and I let the grass swallow me completely as I head into the field.

Chapter 8

Tommy

I thought I screwed the pooch for good, but she just said we're okay.

I fucked up so bad last night, lost my head on that dance floor. I am in deep shit—the kind of shit that used to get me in trouble back in the Army. Act
then
think. I had my hands all over her, my lips, my dick rubbing up against her. Christ. I feel like pulling my hair out. Pacing back and forth on that dark road didn’t help any. Truth is, I’m scared shitless I fucked things up.

When we work, she’s Harper. Last night, she was the girl of my dreams. I know better, yet I couldn’t fucking keep my hands to myself. Hell, whom am I kidding? I got hard just looking at her standing in front of her bedroom mirror, her hair all mussed and cheeks flushed…and those almond-shaped eyes and long lashes, perfect feminine curves in all the right places. Goddammit. I had to haul ass so she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of my hard-on.

She’s my partner and my best friend. But like everything else, I knew sooner or later, I’d fuck it up. I gotta clear this up, and soon. I can’t keep my hands off her anymore. It’s getting harder and harder to maintain my self-control. Yesterday morning was pure hell, but so is anytime I watch her work out. And what a work of art it is to watch her hit that bag.

All I wanted to do was lick every inch of her body, which is why I had to look away before she did
it
. Once she’s done punching, she reaches for the top of the bag, hoists herself up, and wraps those powerful legs around it to do fucking sit-ups. A groan escapes me just thinking about it.

She’s like an instrument I’m dying to play. I want to know the right key I need to hit to make her sing. I want to see what her face looks like when she finally let's go. I want to witness it, take it all in. I’m done hiding; it’s fucking with my head. Every day I have to look at her delicate, flawless neck, her plump red lips, I have to rein myself in. Every fucking day it’s more difficult to keep my hands off her skin, my fingers from brushing those loose stray curls off her beautiful heart-shaped face, my lips from diving in and consuming her mouth. Daily, I have to fight my urge to taste her and it is not fair to either of us. It’s messing with my head and affecting our work together.

The woman still has one hell of an instinct. She always has. Even in Afghanistan, she’d get these weird vibes, and she’d be right on. It bailed us out of trouble and kept us safe for two tours in the sandbox. I got hurt and shot in Iraq, but with her and that Spidey sense of hers, we escaped some serious shit more times than I care to count.

Damn local cop thought he could pull that sexist bullshit on my watch like I was gonna play along. As soon as Harper left for the coffee run, I reamed his sorry ass. He better not be disrespecting Harper or he’ll have to deal with me. Back in the Army, enlisted men thought they could talk back or mock her behind her back just because she was female. Never fucking mind she was smarter and stronger than all of them. I put a stop to that crap. Even now, some think that because Harper takes care of the paperwork and I’m the mouthpiece, she’s my secretary or something. But she’s not. It’s just how we work.

I finally arrive at my place and take a quick shower. This is it. I'm going to do it. As soon as we find this guy, we're going to talk. I'm going to tell her and fuck the consequences. I can't keep it in anymore. Nothing can bring me down today. I feel like I'm on top of the world. I'm so wired I won't even wait for her call. Fuck the nap. There will be plenty of time to rest later. There's a lot I have to make up for; it’s time I take care of her instead of the other way around. We’re going to catch this fucker today if it's the last thing I do.

I jump out of the shower, throw on some faded jeans, an old T-shirt, and my jacket. I go through my fridge and find cold pizza. Perfect. I grab a slice, grab my gear, and I'm out the door. My hair still wet, I climb in my car and haul ass back to the scene in Bloomingfield.