Terms of Surrender (3 page)

Even if it included her.

Yeah, she’d taken a psych class or three. So
hallelujah
. Maybe she could play up the injury, faint in his arms, pass out on top of him, all so he’d extend his stay beyond five minutes. Too bad she was such a lousy fainter and an even worse liar.

She touched the side of her forehead and instantly regretted it. “It’s just a scratch. Probably looks worse than it really is. No need to bother anyone.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not leaving you alone until someone checks it out.”

With a scowl, Harley watched him walk away. He was headed toward the flashing lights of the ambulance, his shoulders broad, his strength and tenderness addictive.

Good riddance
.

In the edge of her vision, she caught sight of the front door of her house and recalled how easily Henry had broken through the lock. Like it wasn’t even there.

All she’d tried to do was protect his wife. The pregnant woman had shown up on her doorstep with a black eye, seeking refuge from her angry husband. Harley had barely had enough time to call 911 before he’d busted through the lock on her front door, and grabbed his wife by the hair to haul her back home.

Harley had followed them and discovered she was no match for his rifle.

The bubble of panic in her throat threatened to choke the air from her lungs and a blast of fear hit her square in the chest. She raised her arms to shield her head from another blow and tried to shrink into a tiny ball of nothingness.

The familiar voice of Jazz, the youthful paramedic from the hospital, broke through the frightened scream in her head.

“Well, well, well, Harley Jane Davis. Isn’t it way past your bedtime, girl?”

Relief washed through her and she lowered her arms, embarrassed. “Ha ha. You’re a funny guy.”

As she clambered to her feet, a moment of dizziness washed through her head, made wet noodles out of her knees. She closed her eyes, willing away the sensation, and felt a strong hand catch her under the elbow.

“Hold steady there, Harl.” Gage’s calm voice soothed her nerves, gave her the strength she needed to keep her eyes closed as Jazz probed the wound. Pain spiked near her temple and receded, returning to a dull ache.

“Let’s have a look at those pretty eyes now, Harley, my sweet.”

“Your sweet nothing,” she muttered. She opened her eyes and stared into the flashlight beam, wishing the hand gripping her elbow and the arm around her waist didn’t feel quite so impersonal. Wouldn’t that take the edge off her self-pity trip?

“How does it look?” Gage asked from beside her.

“She’s fine. A little bruised. A tiny cut. Head wounds always bleed more because of vascularity.”

As Jazz dabbed at the wound, antiseptic bit into the injured flesh. She gritted her teeth, hissed out the air in her lungs, and swallowed the curse lingering on her tongue. “Ouch.”

“Sorry, sweet thing.” Jazz covered the wound with a Band-Aid. “I recommend you find someone to babysit her for the night, though. You know, in case.”

Babysit? She frowned. “In case of what?” She felt as though she should know the answer to her question, what with her nurse’s degree and all, and yet,
nothing
.

“In case you have a concussion.” Jazz frowned. “Maybe I should take you to the hospital for the night. They can monitor you, check for internal damage.”

Harley forced a grin. “Really, I’m okay. I was joking.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Gage said as though she hadn’t spoken. “Thanks, man.”

“Let me at least get her an ice pack.”

“That’d be great. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, thanks, Jazz.” Steadier now, Harley watched the paramedic disappear around the side of the ambulance.

The last thing she wanted Gage to think about was baby-anything.

Okay, maybe it was time for a graceful exit herself, although she didn’t have a clue where she was headed. She looked next door toward her house, saw the front door swinging on one hinge, and recalled how easily her neighbor had kicked in the lock. A wave of panic rolled through her chest and her legs gave out.

She sat down on the grass. No way was she going back to her house alone.

Think of something else. Anything.

Gage moved to stand in front of her and her breath stalled in her lungs. He towered above her, all six-foot-two, one-hundred-and-ninety-nine pounds of irresistible man in the flesh. As he peeled off his flak jacket with one hand and flipped open his cell phone with the other, the last of her brain cells went on standby. All she could do was ogle the way his sweat-soaked, regulation black t-shirt clung to the muscles of his shoulders, across his chest, and down the hard washboard of his stomach.

How much better could a fantasy get?

Except that Gage wasn’t just any fantasy. He was
the
fantasy, the same one she’d been having since she was in high school.

He hunkered down till he was at eye level with her. “You should have someone stay with you tonight.”

What were the rules? His rules, not hers.

No touching allowed. Forever acquaintances. Never lovers.

“Earth to Harley?” He snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Is there someone I can call?”

He was looking at her strangely, as though any second he expected her head to implode. She needed to distract him, prove to him that she was healthy enough—both physically and mentally—for him to leave.

She forced herself to stand, to ignore the frown gathering between his brows as he stood and towered above her. Hooking one hand on her hip, desperate to distract him, she went for what she hoped might be her sexy look—whatever that happened to be—and forced another grin. “What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

The furrowed brow eased to a frown. “Don’t change the subject. How ’bout if I call Mike?”

The mention of her brother-in-law shocked the shock right out of her system, and while Gage continued to look at her as though any second he expected a meltdown, she decided she better tune back in before she agreed to something she shouldn’t. She bent and brushed away the grass stuck to her knees, and hid the deep well of hurt inside with a shrug and a nonchalant tone. “Please don’t call your brother. He’s got enough on his plate without adding me to the mix. Besides, he’s been staying clear of me. You know. Since Hannah’s funeral.”

“That’s tough.”

The velvet texture of his voice made her stomach lurch in a nice way this time, reminding her of the sensation of racing over the back roads of the foothills on his motorbike. She tried not to think of the way she’d once clung to him, her breasts pressed against his back, her arms wrapped around his waist, wishing just once that he’d stop in the middle of a deserted road, drag her onto his lap, and kiss her breathless.

But he wouldn’t. Not back then. Certainly not now that she looked like something out of a horror movie. Yet the slow sweep of his gaze, from her feet to the top of her head, turned the heat-oppressive night even warmer.

Goose bumps rose on her skin, cold fighting against the sudden surge of her body temperature.

“Harl?”

She blinked and the concerned expression on his face came into focus. What had they been discussing? Oh yeah. Who could he dump her on? With a shrug, she oh-so-casually hooked a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s no one to call, Gage, so I’ll be on my way now.”

By the look on his face, she could tell he didn’t like it. How could she distract him? Because once he got something into his head, he was like a dog with a bone. Totally obsessed.

She breathed out a quiet sigh, and on legs still wobbly from her encounter with Henry and his loaded gun, faced Gage down. “Look, you probably have a stack of reports to fill out tonight. You’re free to go. Don’t worry about me. I’ll get a hotel room. By tomorrow, I’ll be ready to come back home.”

He took a single step closer, and the heat and nearness of his body was enough to trigger an internal meltdown. Images flashed through her thoughts, naked bodies slick with sweat, limbs entwined. Oh yeah, a lovely bout of bone-melting sex with this man would definitely take her mind off
everything
.

“Maybe we could get a cup of coffee, do some catching up,” he said. “You know. Talk away the night.”

Ah, if he only knew the truth about how she felt, he’d be running, not staying. Why couldn’t he go up in flames because she was invading his space? Obviously that wasn’t why he was trying to stall her. It could only be one thing.

She balled her hands into fists and turned to leave. “I don’t want your pity.”

His warm fingers closed around her upper arm, arresting her mid-step. Harley didn’t dare look at him for fear she’d throw herself against his chest, wrap her arms around his waist, and refuse to let go.

“That’s not it, honey. Hell, I’m always too wound up after these things to sleep.” He trailed his knuckles along her cheek, his jaw clenched as though he too were waging an internal battle.

Confusion settled in. She’d expected him to say
So long, darlin’. Why don’t we get together in another hundred years?
She knew of only one way to get rid of him, to make him run so fast, he’d forget all about his insatiable need to care for others.

She shifted closer, leaned in, stood on tiptoes, and caught him with one hand behind his neck. Something flashed in his eyes, a hint of desire mixed with a heavy dose of concern. She ignored his attempt to pull back, and before she lost what little strength she had left in her legs, she swayed toward him, let her eyes drift shut, felt the throbbing pain in her temple fade.

His mouth covered hers, soft with restraint, hard with something her befuddled mind couldn’t quite fathom. Harley took full advantage of his momentary lapse of control and swayed into the solid strength of his body, her breasts tingling, her hands seeking the strength in his arms and shoulders.

Fingers ruffled her hair. Whiskers scratched the side of her jaw. A wave of longing so intense she thought she might fly apart right here and now hurtled her body full against him.

He broke the kiss, broke away from her, the low sexy drawl that always caused her knees to go weak tinged with a hint of panic. “Don’t.”

“Too late,” she said, determined not to be sorry that she’d deliberately chosen to chase him off. She could see him grind his teeth together as he struggled between responsibility and fear. He’d thank her for this later, once he forgot about her needing his care. “Thanks for rescuing me tonight. I’m fine now, really I am. Anything I have to do before I leave?”

Shadows from the streetlights played across his stark features, highlighting the strength of his jaw, the downward slant of his mouth. A muscle in his cheek throbbed. He frowned and looked away, squinted against the light on the porch and into the dark. “You’ll need to give a statement.”

“To you?”

As if she’d been waiting for this moment, a uniformed policewoman appeared beside him. “Miss Davis? If you’ll come with me, please. You can sit down over here. I know you’ve been through a lot tonight. This will only take a few minutes. Would you like something to drink before we start? Maybe a blanket to keep you warm?”

Harley tried to focus, but all she could absorb was Gage turning on his heel, walking away from her.

After he’d kissed her as though he might never let her go.

The bubble of panic returned.

“Miss Davis? Would you like me to call Officer Toryn back? Miss Davis? Are you all right?”

No, she wasn’t.

Because every time Gage blew into her life, then blew out again, a piece of her heart went with him.

CHAPTER THREE

Hands fisted at his sides, clueless where he was headed, Gage finally stopped in the middle of the front yard.

Across the way, Harley leaned against the side of the squad car, a Styrofoam cup in one hand, an ice pack in the other. She looked battered and bruised, like she’d been mugged and left in the gutter along with the rest of the trash.

Why had she kissed him?

And why had he kissed her back?

After all those long hours of negotiation, had the heat scrambled what little brainpower he had left? Or had her fear given him the edge, encouraged him to dominate her while she was weak and vulnerable? The faster he got out of her life, the better for them both.

It was stupid. Irresponsible. Totally asinine…and much worse than the first time they’d kissed.

Back then, he’d blamed it on too much champagne and the irresistible woman who had stood next to him when their siblings had tied the knot.

So he’d run, left the town he’d grown up in and all the people he knew.

When her twin sister had been diagnosed with breast cancer, he’d moved back to town to offer his younger brother whatever support he could. It had been too late. Within days of his arrival, Hannah had died, leaving Mike alone to raise their two precious little girls.

Now, no matter how much he wanted to walk away, he couldn’t be so casual or cavalier, at least not until he’d found her someplace to stay tonight. He knew she couldn’t go back to her house alone. She wouldn’t sleep, and he’d spend the night worrying about her.

He stepped to the side, bumped into an unmovable object, and turned to see what—or who—was in his way.

Unfazed by the physical contact, Adam Durango stood firm while he made a note on the clipboard in his hand, flipped to a new page, and continued to write. “Good job tonight, Toryn.”

Gage ignored the compliment and refocused on the woman who held his thoughts hostage. If she couldn’t stay with Mike, was there a boyfriend or close friend he could call?

“Yep, the wife is safe, thanks to you,” Adam continued, interrupting his thoughts and finally snagging his attention. “Maybe now the Captain will let you off the hook for last month’s infraction.”

When he’d punched out a perp, been charged with assault, and received a two day suspension…and a boatload of psychiatric time to help him manage his anger.

Tension worked up Gage’s spine and knotted the muscles at the back of his neck. He attempted to shift mental gears, but after two hours cooped up with Henry and his rifle, he felt as though his brain had bailed.