One Night More (7 page)

Intrusion into her life? What about her intrusion into his? “No, sir.”

Once, in the third grade, Harper had accidentally tucked the back of her dress into her tights and everyone on the playground had gotten a nice, long look at her Wonder Woman underwear. That was marginally less humiliating than how she felt right now.

Days wasted daydreaming about him. Potential relationships shunned. Nights alone in bed with nothing but a memory to keep her warm. The romantic in her had imagined this moment so much differently. They’d cross paths. He’d smile and rush over to her. Offer up a perfectly acceptable explanation as to why he’d run out that morning. He’d confess that he thought about her. And she’d do the same. A quick cup of coffee would turn into dinner and from there . . .
Gah!
What an idiot. She was pathetic. Worse than pathetic. She might as well go to the SPCA, adopt twenty cats, and call it a day.

He had no idea who she was. Zero recognition. Not even a
glimmer
. The cool, collected deputy marshal, he’d strode in as though the entire world waited to do his bidding and then plopped down in the chair beside her, her safety nothing more than another day at the office for him. The potential uprooting of her life as inconsequential to him as the choice over what shirt to wear or what to eat for breakfast. He’d completely trivialized her. Who knew he was so bossy? Pushy, even. Total turn-off. Her mortification evaporated under the anger that began to burn through her veins. Obviously the night they’d spent together had been nothing more than a random booty call. And how awesome was it that she’d been stupid enough to think there was more to her mystery man? A decent guy that she’d been eager to get to know. Yeah, right. Harper swallowed down the bitter snort that threatened to surface. Nothing like a healthy dose of disillusionment to start off your day. She’d rather tuck her dress into her underwear and walk through downtown Portland any day than spend another minute with the man seated beside her. Nothing was more humiliating than knowing she was just that forgettable.

“Do you have any questions for Deputy Kelly before I hand over the reins, Harper?” Curt looked at her expectantly.

Yeah, do you have a lot of one-night stands with anonymous women, or was I the lucky exception?
“No, Curt, I think you’ve laid it all out pretty clearly. Thank you.”

Curt’s brow furrowed at her icy tone and he leaned back in his chair, studied Harper as if trying to crawl into her thoughts. Maybe he should ask his deputy if there was anything about her that he found even remotely familiar. She’d love to hear the answer to that one. Or maybe he’d only recognize her with her clothes off. No doubt he’d forgotten everything from her neck up.
Galen
. She fought the urge to say his name out loud, try it out. Ugh. Why worry about a murderer on the loose? Harper was pretty sure she’d die of embarrassment long before some unidentified killer got a hold of her. No freaking way was she going to be able to stand weeks on end with him. If the FBI didn’t get it together and solve this case—fast—she was going to go out of her mind.

“All right, then,” Curt said as though he was reluctant to turn them loose. “Since we’re all caught up to speed, I’ll let you two get on with it. But Harper”—he fixed her with a stern yet affectionate stare—“you be sure to stay out of trouble and let Deputy Kelly do his job. Understand?”

Jeez. You’d think she was a flight risk or something. Or two years old. Okay, so once in the past four days she snuck out for donuts. But in her defense she’d had a serious craving for an apple fritter. “Are you saying I’m difficult, Curt?”

“I would never say that.” Curt paused. “Out loud.”

Heh.
“Don’t worry.” Harper stood from her chair and slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll behave.”

“Don’t forget to give Davis a call,” Curt said to Gal—uh—Deputy Kelly. No use getting too familiar with him. After all, she was his job; they weren’t on a date.

“Will do.”

Harper kept her gaze straight forward, all but ignoring him as he rose from his chair. She was not looking. At all.

“After you, Harper.” He swept his hand in front of him and it was all Harper could do not to kick him in the shin. Curt thought she was a pain in the butt for going out for donuts? He hadn’t seen anything yet.

“I’m sure Chief Deputy Monroe has already told you this, but no matter what you think to the contrary, we’ll try to make this situation as stress-free as possible for you. The upheaval in your life will more than likely be temporary.”

As they made their way toward the elevator, Harper wondered if the “We’re here to help” speech was Deputy U.S. Marshal Galen Kelly’s usual spiel, or if he saved this particular one for women he’d slept with.

“Temporary?” Harper’s gaze met his and she quirked a brow. “I bet Senator Ellis’s family doesn’t consider this a temporary upheaval.” The elevator doors opened and she stepped inside.

He stood on the other side of the door, unmoving, his brow furrowed. Harper shot her hand out to keep the doors from closing, a sigh building in her chest. Why? Out of all of the marshals in the entire country, why him? “Look, Deputy Kelly, let’s just serve our time together as peacefully as possible. If you agree to give me plenty of space and stay out of my hair, I’m sure we’ll get along fine.”

His frown transformed into an arrogant smirk and Harper’s stomach did a backflip. Amusement lit his blue eyes as he stepped inside of the car.

“See, that’s where we’re going to have a problem.” He hit the button for the garage and faced her head-on. “I can’t guarantee to stay out of your hair because it’s sort of my job. You’re just going to have to get used to having me as your shadow.” The smirk widened into a smile that under different circumstances would have blasted the clothes right off Harper’s body. “At least for a while.” He turned away as if disinterested and folded his arms across his chest. “Oh, and by the way, Harper, you might as well call me Galen. We’re going to be spending a lot of quality time with one another from here on out.”

Chapter Eight

No way would I have slept with you if I’d known you were such an arrogant pain in the ass
. Harper glared at Galen’s back, wishing she had laser vision and could burn her thoughts there as a warning to any of his future conquests. She followed him out of the elevator and into the parking garage, a plan of attack already forming in her mind. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that there was some bad blood between the feds and Marshals. And likewise, that they didn’t put a lot of stock in Special Agent Sean Davis getting the job done.

“I need to stop by my office.”

Galen’s stride didn’t even falter. “No, you don’t. You’re working from home.”

Please. If he thought the detached, tough-guy routine would spook her, he had another think coming. “True, but Curt and I had an agreement that my day-to-day life wouldn’t be disrupted. I have a story due on Thursday and I need to stop by the paper and pick up a couple of notebooks that have information I need in them.”

“I hate to break it to you, Harper,” Galen said without a break in his steps, “but your life has already been disrupted. You’re a witness to a high-profile murder. Your face is all over the news. And obviously, Senator Ellis’s murderer is trying to send you a message by dangling the fact that he knows who you are in your face.”

“That’s only a theory at this point,” Harper quipped. Okay, so maybe the voice mail had spooked her more than she wanted to admit, but she didn’t want him to know that. “I’m not too concerned.”

“You should be,” Galen said. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but whatever you thought of as a normal life is long gone.”

Wow, wasn’t he a ray of sunshine. “This will blow over.” She wasn’t about to subscribe to his doom-and-gloom outlook. “And when it does, I don’t want to have to rebuild the life I’ve put on hold.”

“This isn’t going to blow over until Senator Ellis’s murderer is found. That could take months. Years. You’re going to have to come to terms with that fact.”

The hell she would. If the FBI couldn’t get the job done, she’d take matters into her own hands. Harper considered herself a decent investigative reporter. She’d been researching Ellis for months. Since his death, she’d been racking her brain, trying to remember exactly what Ellis’s dying words to her had been. She was pretty sure he’d mentioned something about a mobile hazard. The other part, blue . . . something . . . was still a little hazy in her mind. Still, she figured she had enough of a lead to find something of use. And when she uncovered whatever it was Ellis was talking about, she’d make sure to share with the FBI. She refused to sit back and simply allow the Marshals Service to create a new life, a new identity, for her while they searched aimlessly for the bad guy. Curt had made a promise to her and she’d make sure Deputy Kelly upheld that promise.

Her office wasn’t more than a few blocks from the U.S. Courthouse building. She had to get away from her newly appointed guardian for a while. His foreboding words and stern attitude was seriously bringing her down. Harper wasn’t stupid; she knew the severity of her situation. She wasn’t about to run too far away from safety. But at the same time, she wanted Galen Kelly to know, without a doubt, that he couldn’t bully her or control her. Plus, she did need the notebooks. The first thing she planned to do once she caught up on work was try to find a lead on Ellis’s murder. Harper had a couple of informants on the political scene who might be able to help point her in the right direction.

“I need to stop by the paper,” she repeated. Better to press her previous point than allow him to worry her with the prospect of leaving her life behind. “Curt and I have an agreement.”

“Agreement or not, I doubt that
Chief Deputy Monroe
let you run all over the city.” Harper wondered at the way he stressed Curt’s official title, as though she wasn’t allowed to call him anything else. “Whatever you need can be picked up and delivered by someone from our office. End of discussion.”

Had Curt been easier to sweet-talk? Or was Galen just trying his best to be an asshole? Maybe it was time to switch tactics. “You’re right.” Harper made sure her tone was complacent, her voice, soft. “And I’d take you up on the offer, but my desk is a bit of a war zone.” She gave a little laugh. Too over the top? Maybe. Crap. “I’ve got this sort of organized chaos thing going on. I’m worried that the wrong notebooks will be delivered and we’ll have to start all over again. I mean, I don’t want to inconvenience anyone any more than I already have.”

Harper led the way through the maze of cars, Galen close behind her, just to her right. She stuffed her annoyance down to her toes, worried she might explode at any minute. Seriously, did he expect to follow her like a deranged guard dog for the next few weeks—or longer—while basically pretending she wasn’t even there? He stopped and pulled a key fob out of his pocket. The lights flashed on a newer Ford Taurus. Must have been government issue. For some reason Harper had always imagined him as a truck sort of guy.

“First it’s a notebook,” Galen said as he opened the driver’s-side door. “Then, it’s a file.” He motioned for Harper to get in as he settled into his seat. “After that, it’s a staff meeting that you can’t miss, or some other work function you forgot about. I’ve been through this hundreds of times with hundreds of witnesses. Protective custody isn’t fun, Harper, but you’re going to have to stick it out.”

Galen turned the key and the engine roared to life. Since they’d left Curt’s office, he’d barely made eye contact. Was she just that inconsequential? At least with Curt, she’d felt like someone was truly concerned for her safety. With Galen, she felt like a burden.

As they exited the parking garage, Harper pulled down her visor to block the too bright morning sunlight. It was a perfect representation of her life right now: blinded by something she couldn’t see past with nothing but the unknown stretched out in front of her. A heavy sigh escaped her lips, one she hadn’t meant to free. But she needed to release some of the tension that stretched her body taut or she’d snap.

“Harper—”

Without thinking, she pushed open her door and jumped out of the car before he could pull out into traffic. Without a look back, she darted across SW Third, barely missing the light change. The traffic signal gods were definitely smiling down on her today, giving her a chance to duck her babysitter while covering her tracks. He was dead in the water until the lights changed again.

As Harper blended in with a group of pedestrians, the sound of her phone ringing cut off the frantic string of thoughts assaulting her mind. Thank God. The last thing she needed right now was an attack of conscience over ditching her protective detail yet again. But seriously, if she’d had to listen to any more of his I’m-in-charge assertions, she would’ve cracked. She checked the caller ID and said a silent thanks for best friends with good timing. “Hey, Sophie.”

“Hey. I thought I’d check in and see how you’re holding up.”

For the most part, Sophie was the go-to friend when you needed a wild night out, or someone to cheer you up. She’d treaded lightly with Harper for the past few days, though, and it was a nice change. No matter how practical Harper tried to be or how tough she wanted to act, Senator Ellis’s murder had really shaken her up.

“Eh, I’m hanging in there,” she said, careful to keep her eyes forward and her pace steady. No use drawing attention to herself by running down the street like a madwoman. She didn’t dare look back as she walked down the sidewalk. No doubt Gal—
Deputy Kelly
—was hot on her tail. “Well, I got my new babysitter today, so there’s that. And apparently, I’m not allowed to even stop by the paper to pick up what I need to work at home.”

“Seriously? Not gonna lie, Harp. I’m on their side on this one. These guys have you on a super tight leash for a reason. Or do you not remember the lovely voice mail someone left for you at work?”

Harper stopped at the crosswalk, toe tapping with impatience.
Hurry up, you stupid streetlight
. “Okay, I’ll give you that one. I’m still a little freaked out about it, but I’m not going to let some asshole scare me into hiding. Plus, you’d think I was the criminal the way I’m being treated. I guess it could be worse, though. I could be locked up in a room somewhere.”

“You and solitary confinement?” Sophie remarked. “Probably not the best match. God, I hope they find the asshole soon.”

“You and me both.” The little man on the crosswalk sign lit up and Harper took off across SW Main. “Anyway, my day’s going to be a total wash until I can get my notes. I guess I’ll just hang out at the apartment. Stop by if you want. It’s not like I’ll be going anywhere any time soon.”

Sophie laughed. “I’m working the late shift today, but maybe tomorrow or Wednesday I’ll swing by and we can watch a movie or something. So”—her voice took on the conspiratorial tone that signaled trouble—“tell me about the new bodyguard? Cute? I need the lowdown. You know, I’m not opposed to sexy older men.”

The anxious knot unfurled in Harper’s stomach and fluttered as though blown by a strong wind. Curt hadn’t been Sophie’s type, but the guy they’d brought in to replace him sure as hell was. “Sophie, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Well, in that case, I’m definitely coming over tomorrow night. I’ll text you. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

“Um, Harper? Why do I hear the sound of traffic in the background?” Harper smiled at Sophie’s suspicious tone. “You didn’t ditch again, did you?”

Sophie knew her all too well. “No one comes between me and my notes,” Harper replied, admitting to nothing.

“Harper, I hate to be the responsible one in this situation, but you really shouldn’t be running around the city without an escort. Get your notes and get your ass home. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.” As Harper disconnected the call, she hit SW Broadway and jogged down the sidewalk toward
The Oregonian
’s offices. That had to have been the fastest seven blocks she’d ever walked. Knowing she was being pursued by an annoying deputy U.S. marshal probably had something to do with her new land-speed record, though.

As she headed into the building, she couldn’t help but worry about what would happen once Galen managed to catch up to her. Would he drag her off against her will to a safe house somewhere or would he actually take her home? A day trapped in her apartment with the star of her sexual fantasies for the past twelve months. What could be better? Dental surgery. Filling out a twelve-page marketing questionnaire. A visit from pushy missionaries. Door-to-door encyclopedia salesmen.

She could only hope that whatever happened, he’d go light on her. After all, spending time alone with him would be punishment enough.

Galen’s car idled at the stoplight while he stared across the street, mouth agape. He watched as Harper blended in with the pedestrians scattered on the sidewalk. She appeared to be well-practiced at stealthy getaways. Her pace wasn’t quick enough to draw attention but wasn’t slow enough for him to keep an eye on her. She made sure to stay away from the street side of the sidewalk and remained close enough to the person walking near her that she appeared not to be alone. Smart. Of course, he’d known that about her. Not that ducking her protective detail was currently an accurate representation of her intelligence. Galen cursed as he pulled his cell from his pocket. What was she thinking, taking off like that?

Guess he’d asked for a rough go of it, what with his presenting her zero options in her situation and all. More oftentimes than not, intimidation tactics made it easier for him to do his job. He had plenty of practice at behaving like a disconnected dick. Sort of came with the badge. If you pushed hard enough, most people wouldn’t push back. It was how he controlled a situation. Apparently, he hadn’t pushed her hard enough because she was one of the rare witnesses who hadn’t responded to his tactics. Damn it, he was not in the mood for playing games. Add to that the fact that he’d painted himself into a corner with Harper by pretending not to know her and subsequently treating her
exactly
like a cup being passed around, and his day—hell, maybe even his entire year—was basically shot to shit. Too late to worry about it now, he supposed. He pulled his cell from his pocket and dialed the office. Not even five minutes out of the building and he was already calling his supervisor for help. Awesome.

“Monroe.”

Christ. As if this weren’t humiliating as hell. “What’s
The Oregonian
’s address?” Only a year gone and he had to reacquaint himself with the city. Lord. “And when I get there, what floor is her office on?”

“You lost her already, Galen?” Monroe all but blurted. “I figured it would be at least a few hours before she managed to dodge you.”

Galen cringed. By tomorrow he’d be the office joke. “Yeah, well, she’s . . .”

“Feisty?” Monroe ventured.