Shooting the Moon (3 page)

Besides, she
wanted
him to be arrested, didn’t she? It would buy her some time.

The officer’s hand went to his gun as though he was threatening to use it, and Lauren held her breath. “Just cooperate,” she said, and finally Harley allowed the cuffs and was put in the backseat.

The officer leaned against the hood of the car, periodically talking into his radio until a tow truck came to impound Harley’s bike. Then he got behind the wheel and drove away, and the last thing Lauren saw was Harley staring back at her through the window, jaw clenched, eyes bright with fury and the red-and-blue lights of the patrol car still swirling above him.

What kind of fool was she? Lauren asked herself when they were gone at last. She’d been afraid she was judging Harley too harshly—the boy who’d gotten her sister pregnant and run out on her! As if there could be a judgment too harsh for someone like that!

Her father was right. She was justified in keeping Harley as far away from Brandon as possible.

Feeling almost giddy with relief, Lauren took her cell phone from her purse and called her best friend, Kimberly. Everything was going to be okay. Anyone with a record wouldn’t stand a chance against her father and his lawyers.

“Lauren, where are you?” Kim asked as soon as she’d
said hello. “I just called your house and the baby-sitter said you’d left on a dinner date. What happened? I thought we were going dancing tonight.”

Oh, jeez. Lauren had been so worried about Harley and Brandon, she’d completely forgotten about their plans to go dancing. And Kimberly really counted on getting out. After college she’d married a guy who’d been more interested in ogling the models in
Victoria Secret
catalogues than in giving Kimberly any attention. They’d remained childless, divorced six years later, and Kimberly had returned to Portland three months ago. She was living with her parents and looking for an accounting job, but she wanted desperately to get married again. “I’m sorry, Kim. I feel terrible. I should’ve remembered to call, but something pretty monumental came up.”

“What? Have you met someone new?”

“Even more monumental than that. Remember Harley?”

“Brandon’s father?”

“Yeah. He’s back in town. He showed up on my doorstep this morning.”

There was a long pause, then, “You’re kidding me.”

“No. He was supposed to meet me for dinner tonight so we could talk, but he got himself arrested just as he was turning in to the restaurant. Unbelievable, isn’t it?”

“What did he do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You didn’t
ask?
”

“What difference does it make? He’s not a good person. That’s all I need to know.”

“We already knew he wasn’t a good person. A good person doesn’t get a girl pregnant and run out on her. But aren’t you a little curious about what he did wrong
this
time?”

Now that the first blush of anger had subsided, Lauren realized she was more than a little curious. Yet she hadn’t
felt compelled to get involved. She still wanted to go on with her life as if Harley had never dropped back into it.

“No,” she lied. “I think I should just take it as a sign to stay away. Besides, if I need to know, I can always find out. Chief Wilson is a good friend of my dad’s.”

“Great! Tell me as soon as you call him.”

Lauren frowned and finally made her way back to her car, opened the door and sank into her seat behind the wheel. “Why are you assuming I’m going to call him? I said I
could
call him.”

“Have you forgotten who you’re talking to here? We’ve been best friends since first grade. There’s no way someone like you is capable of letting something like this go.”

Lauren opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again when Kimberly added, “Besides,
I’m
dying to know. Do you want me to call down there for you?”

“No, I’ll do it,” she said, giving in to the inevitable. Kimberly was right. No way was she going to be able to ignore this. Especially because she had no guarantee that Harley wouldn’t be back on her doorstep tomorrow morning.

“So, why were you and Harley getting together, anyway?” Kimberly asked. “Does he know about Audra?”

“Yeah. I’m not sure how he heard, but he knows.”

“Does he want a relationship with Brandon?”

“I think so. He wants to see him, at any rate.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Keep Brandon as far away as possible. I may need you to take him for a few days. Can you do that?”

“Sure. Anything. You know he likes it here.”

Lauren bit her bottom lip and ran her hand over the smooth finish of the steering wheel, hating the thought of disrupting her nephew’s life. But she had to do something until her parents returned, until she at least heard from
them, right? What if Harley got out of jail and kidnapped Brandon? They might never be able to find him again.

That possibility terrified Lauren, and she massaged her temples in worry. “He loves your dog,” she said, hoping to bolster her confidence that she was doing the right thing.

“My
dog?
What am I, chopped liver?” Kimberly demanded.

Lauren laughed for the first time since she’d seen Harley coming toward the restaurant on that damned motorcycle. “No, of course not. I was just thinking aloud, about all the benefits of having him stay with you.”

“He’ll be fine, Lauren. You know I’ll take good care of him.”

“I know.”

“Where are you now?”

Lauren twisted in her seat to glance up at the Tokyo House sign that lit the entire front of the building. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and she loved the food at this place, but dinner was the last thing on her mind. “Downtown.”

“When are you bringing Brandon over?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how long Harley’s in jail, if he’s even going to jail. The fact that they cuffed him makes me think he might be there for a few days, but maybe they just took him in for questioning or something.”

“Chief Wilson will be able to tell you.”

“Right.”

“And don’t worry. You can bring Brandon over no matter how late it is. My parents won’t mind.”

“Thanks a lot.”

“You bet. Lauren?”

“Yeah?”

“How does he look? Harley, I mean.”

Lauren sighed and stared through the window at the spot where the police had hauled him away. “Better than ever,” she admitted.

T
HE PAST TWENTY-FOUR HOURS
hadn’t been easy. Harley had been booked and jailed for the heinous crime of having an old, unpaid speeding ticket. He’d spent most of Saturday night in a concrete holding cell behind a very thick door, waiting for a judge to set his bail, which ended up at a thousand dollars because he was a resident of another state and considered a flight risk. Then Tank had picked him up and he’d spent much of the day trying to get his bike out of impound, which had involved more effort than he ever would have imagined and cost him another two hundred dollars.

On top of everything else, his court date wasn’t for two weeks. Either he had to stay in town and wait for it, but that probably wouldn’t work because he didn’t dare leave his business in the hands of his manager for so long. Or he had to come back here, which would be expensive and time-consuming.

“That’s not a good face,” Tank said, eyeing him above a hamburger the size of a football. He’d taken Lucy home an hour earlier so it was just the two of them.

Harley glowered at him from the couch. Tank had offered him dinner, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to eat. He was tired and miserable, and still angry about the way his weekend had turned out. Most maddening of all was the fact that the speeding ticket that started the whole thing was over ten years old. Had Officer Denny not been so zealous, had he not called in for a more extensive
search than the computer initially offered, the ticket probably wouldn’t have shown up, not after so many years. Harley couldn’t even remember getting pulled over at the end of his senior year. But back then he’d had bigger concerns. His mother had just kicked him out of the house because her new boyfriend didn’t like him. Audra had just told him about the baby. And Mr. Worthington was pressuring him to take two thousand dollars and leave town. Though he was too proud to keep it, he’d finally accepted the money and given it to his mother for the food and clothes she’d grudgingly provided over the years. Then he’d split without a clue as to where he was going or how he’d survive.

Who would’ve worried about paying for a speeding ticket in the middle of all that?

“You gonna be okay?” Tank asked.

Harley shrugged. “I’ll live.”

“It’s over now. Forget it.”

If Lauren hadn’t been standing outside the restaurant when he’d been arrested, Harley thought he could forget it, or at least put the incident in some perspective. But every time he closed his eyes he saw the look of affirmation on her face when that greenhorn Denny cuffed him, and it made him long to hit something. He’d only been in town for the weekend, but already he was short on patience and long on grievances. One of them was Lauren’s superior attitude. He didn’t want his son raised by a woman who considered a broken nail a major catastrophe. He wanted Brandon to be part of the real world, to deal with real people and grow up to be a real man, not some petted, spoiled boy living in luxury without knowing a hard day’s work. Lauren had asked what Harley could give him. Well, he sure as hell knew enough about the real world to give him that.

“Who’re you calling?” Tank asked, watching Harley
punch the numbers on his cell phone with more force than necessary.

“Lauren Worthington.”

“Right now? Do you think that’s a good idea? I mean, last night didn’t go so well. Maybe you should give her a day or two to—”

“To what?” Harley demanded. “Forget about it?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. You said she saw the whole thing, and she comes from a pretty protected world. It probably freaked her out.”

“So what? There are worse crimes than an unpaid speeding ticket. One of them is never getting to see your son. Besides, you’re talking about a girl who was first in her class. She’s not going to forget about anything.”

“Maybe
you
will,” Tank said around a mouthful of burger.

Harley’s stomach growled, making him regret skipping dinner, but he didn’t want to waste any time eating. He wanted to finally settle the score where Brandon was concerned—if Lauren would only answer her phone. “She’s just like her folks,” he said between rings. “Her mind’s made up about me and nothing I do is going to change it. If anything, last night only confirmed what she wanted to believe in the first place.”

“Lauren’s a nice girl,” Tank said, defending her.

Harley lifted a hand to indicate he needed a moment of silence. Lauren’s voice mail had finally picked up. He hesitated, wondering whether or not to leave a message, then decided he’d keep trying to reach her instead. It wasn’t as though he could count on her to call him back.

“You have her home number?” he asked, hanging up.

Tank shoved some chips into his mouth. “What did you call?”

“The number she phoned me from yesterday was stored on my cell.”

“The home’s unlisted,” he said, “but Damien would have it.”

“Would he give it to us?”

“Sure, why not?” Tank swallowed the last of his food and grinned. “He might be a stuffy lawyer, but he’s still my brother.”

Leaning far enough forward to set his plate on the coffee table, he grabbed the cordless phone. After a short conversation during which Tank repeatedly said things like, “I just want to talk to her, okay?” and “What does it matter? She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” he handed Harley a number written on a gum wrapper.

“Thanks,” Harley said.

“What are friends for?”

Harley cocked an eyebrow at him. “For nearly getting one drowned in the river, if I remember—Hello?”

Lauren had answered.

“It’s me,” he said.

There was a long pause, then, “How did you get this number?”

“I’m familiar with some good, old-fashioned torture techniques. After a few minutes with me your friends and neighbors were more than willing to talk.”

“I can relate to the desperation they must’ve felt to escape from you. What do you want?”

“I want to talk, just like we were going to do last night.”

“Before you robbed a liquor store or whatever you did that got you arrested?”

Robbed a liquor store?
This woman had a very vivid imagination. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t anything that dramatic.” He was tempted to explain just how undramatic it was, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t about to grovel at Lauren Worthington’s feet, hoping for her approval.

“I understand,” she said. “When something happens
a lot it becomes common, everyday. The
excitement factor
goes down, is that it?”

He remembered saying something to her about the excitement factor in her life and realized she was throwing his words back at him, but he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “As far as I’m concerned, our business together is a completely unrelated issue.”

“I’m afraid I disagree. Your background and character are an important part of the issue, but then,
I
have a nine-year-old boy to consider.”

“You have
my
nine-year-old boy.”

Silence.

“Meet me,” he said, softening his voice in hopes that he could still gain her cooperation. Before he decided anything, he wanted to see Brandon, talk to him. Was that so much to ask?

“No.”

He held back a frustrated sigh. “Then I’ll come over there.”

“It won’t do you any good. You won’t be able to get in. We have security.”

“The kind of security I passed with a wave and a smile when I came to the house yesterday?”

“They’re more diligent at night,” she said. “They won’t let you through the gate this time.”

Especially after she called and told them not to. “Then I’ll hop the fence.”

“You’ll be arrested. Again. And this time they’d probably keep you. Stalking a woman is a lot more serious than an unpaid speeding ticket.”

So she’d been playing him. She already knew why he was arrested. “I thought I robbed a liquor store. I’m such a bad guy it’s hard to keep up with all my offenses, huh?”

“You’re probably working your way up.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard most armed robberies start with unpaid speeding tickets. It’s a definite sign of trouble.”

“I’ve already seen enough signs to know you’re trouble, Harley,” she said, but her voice didn’t hold the same bitterness it had when he’d spoken to her at the door. She’d also used his name for the first time. Somehow that encouraged him, made him feel as though she was finally starting to see him as a person instead of the devil incarnate.

“You don’t know anything about me,” he pointed out. “Not really. The only thing you have is your father’s word.”

“And my sister’s experience. Taken together, that’s a pretty strong argument.”

“Haven’t you ever fallen in love, Lauren?” he asked, dropping the sarcasm and defensiveness and stripping it down to a simple, sincere question.

She didn’t answer, and for a fleeting moment he found himself wishing she would.
Hadn’t
she ever fallen in love? Didn’t she know what it was like to feel so passionately about someone that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? That you wouldn’t—couldn’t—heed an outside threat to stay away because it was like being asked to stop breathing? If not, she’d never understand, and he’d be wasting his time if he tried to explain it to her. Love wasn’t something that made logical sense.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m only asking for a few minutes. How can you tell a man who’s never seen his son that you won’t even entertain the idea?”

“You should have thought about seeing Brandon ten years ago.”

“I
did
think about it, dammit.” He felt his irritation with Lauren grow and wished Tank wasn’t in the room. What, did Lauren think leaving Portland had been easy for him? That he’d been able to turn his back on his child without a second thought? He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Audra. Hadn’t even wanted one. It was as though that part of him, the capacity to love, had stayed
behind. “I offered to marry Audra, but your father wouldn’t hear of it,” he admitted.

A slight pause. “You ran out on my sister. For money. I hardly call that a marriage proposal,” she said, now sounding tentative, wary.

“She wanted two things that couldn’t exist together—me and her father’s support. Your father put conditions on his support, and you know what she chose.”

“So you ran.”

She was still looking for easy answers, still wanting to place the blame neatly on his back and walk away—with his son.

“No, I asked her to leave with me. But she wouldn’t turn her back on Daddy and his wallet.” Harley shoved a hand through his hair. He hated dredging up the past, resurrecting old, better-forgotten feelings, but he’d known what this trip would cost before he came. If it was penitence and remorse Lauren wanted to hear, he had plenty of that to spare.

“Listen, she clung to safety and security, and I guess I can’t blame her,” he went on. “I had nothing to give her.” Except his heart, he added silently. But that hadn’t been nearly enough for the spoiled Audra.

“You’re lying,” Lauren said, but the pitch of her voice had changed and at last Harley sensed some uncertainty. “She loved you.”

After ten years, he’d begun to doubt that Audra’s feelings had ever rivaled his own. When Brandon was only a few weeks old, she’d dropped by his mother’s house, without the baby, and given Beverly the birth details. But then his mother’s lover had left her and she’d immediately packed up and moved to California to be close to Harley. And neither of them had heard from Audra since.

“She might have loved me a little, but she loved her lifestyle more,” he said.

Silence again.

“I know she’s gone now, and I’m sorry for that, Lauren,” he continued, “but if you could be big-minded enough to remember how she really was instead of seeing her as some kind of saint, I think you’d realize that I’m on the level.”

Nothing. Had he made her angry? Or was she capable of being as fair as he was asking her to be? “Lauren?”

“Meet me at Thai Basil,” she said at last.

“That’s another restaurant?”

“Yeah, at the corner of Twelfth and Yamhill. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said.

“I just hope it won’t be in a car with red and blue lights.”

H
ARLEY WAS ALREADY
at the restaurant when Lauren arrived. She recognized his sleek black motorcycle as soon as she got out of her car—only this time there was a shiny burgundy-colored helmet sitting on the seat.

Nervously smoothing the denim skirt she’d chosen to wear, along with a white cotton blouse and a pair of high-heeled sandals, she took a deep breath. She’d thought that adding a few inches to her height might lend her some courage, but she was still only five foot six and mere inches weren’t enough to compensate for the fear rushing through her veins.

She eyed the restaurant as though it was something dark and threatening. What if everything Harley had told her on the phone about Audra and her father was a lie intended to manipulate her?

In that case, she was letting him make a fool of her. She’d certainly regret it and would definitely pay for it later.

But what if he was telling the truth?

This morning Chief Wilson had said that Harley had been picked up for an unpaid speeding ticket, posted bond
and been released, which hardly made him a dangerous criminal. She’d taken Brandon to Kimberly’s, just to be safe, but the fact that Harley hadn’t done anything seriously wrong—and that he hadn’t touted the reason for his arrest when he’d spoken to her on the phone, despite her baiting—lent him some credibility. Problem was, if Harley had actually tried to do right by Audra and she’d refused him because of her father’s intervention, maybe Harley
wasn’t
such a bad guy. And if he wasn’t such a bad guy, then Lauren couldn’t conscionably—

Whoa, slow down,
she cautioned herself, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she could physically clear the thoughts from her mind.
Not such a bad guy is a pretty far cry from decent human being.