Chapter 17

Walking home next to Harlan, I was one second away from swinging around a lamppost like Gene Kelly. The only thing stopping me was the cars parked next to any available lampposts. With my luck, I’d get halfway around, smash my foot through a window, and set off car alarms up and down the block. So, I settled for bumping my arm against Harlan’s every other step. I’m sure I had a slightly crazed smile on my face.

Why wouldn’t I? The boy I’d loved for so long had grown into a man I had a feeling I could love even more. We had work ahead of us, I knew, to learn these new versions of each other and figure out how we fit together. But that would be fine. As a matter of fact, I was spending most of this walk imagining in graphic detail exactly how well we would fit together.

Eighteen-year-old Harlan had caught my attention from the first moment I saw him. His lright brown hair, angry glower, and hands-off body language combined with the waves of loneliness I could feel coming off of him were like catnip to my extroverted, soft-hearted self.

Once I’d forced my way past his barriers, I was smitten by his intelligence, snarky sense of humor, and the passion he kept hidden from the world at large.

The youth had grown into a sexy, confident man, who walked through the world like he knew he belonged there and could handle whatever it threw at him. Even as beaten and bruised as he’d been, watching him lecture his class with humor and empathy had definitely gotten me hot for teacher.

On a more carnal level, I couldn’t wait to strip him naked and get my hands all over his broad shoulders and tight ass.

Best of all, we were going to find this Tucker asshole and put the fear of God into him, if we could do nothing else. Not me, personally. I wasn’t big on physical violence, not finding it particularly useful except for self-defense. No worries. I’m sure I knew someone who could be sufficiently threatening to keep Tucker far, far away.

We may not have enough to get Tucker arrested for harassing Harlan, but given how many traffic tickets he’d already gotten in California, odds were good he had a bench warrant for non-appearance out on him somewhere. Hopefully, it was in a state on the east coast.

When we reached the house, I was thrilled to see that no one was home. We didn’t have to rush back to work. There was plenty of time to follow up on that kiss in my office.

It took me three tries to unlock the front door. Harlan laughed at me as I grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the house. He was barely past the threshold when I kicked the door shut and forced him back against it. “Alone at last.”

“Impatient, aren’t you?” He grinned.

“Empty house, Harlan. Empty.” It was obviously a sign.

Harlan checked over my shoulder. “You’re sure no one is home?”

“Positive.” Enough talking. Grabbing him by his shirt collar, I walked backward into the living room. When I reached the couch, I spun us and gently pushed him down on it. Then I climbed onto him, straddling his legs. “Hi.”

He wrapped his arms around my lower back. “Hi.”

My body remembered his. I slid my arms over his strong shoulders and dragged my fingertips across the nape of his neck, something he’d always loved. By the shudder I got in return, he still did. “So, my parents aren’t home. Wanna fool around?”

In retaliation, he tugged my shirt out of my pants and ran his fingers over my lower back, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind them. “Yeah, I do.”

Desire had been building between us for days, and I was ready for harsh kisses and frantic groping. As usual, Harlan surprised me. His big warm hands cupped my face, and he drew me close, kissing me slow and easy.

Harlan clasped my face in his hands and drew me down to his mouth. His thumb caressed my jaw. When I opened for him with a sigh, I felt him smile against my mouth.

How was it that each kiss could feel like the first time? Each one was a revelation as I remembered things I’d loved and discovered new ones.

No one had ever kissed me like this. Not even him. His taste, his feel, and the heat of his body soaked into me down to the bone and I melted against him.

“God, Dash.” The words caressed my cheek as his arms tightened around me. He kissed his way down my neck, tilting my chin up with his nose, and nipped lightly at my throat.

The warmth in my bones ignited. I slid my fingers into his hair and yanked his head back. “I’m not a delicate flower. Kiss me like you mean it, Agent Dean.”

The glint in his eyes said challenge accepted. Then it was all hands and mouths and grunts and groans.

“Shirt off,” Harlan growled as he tugged the knot of my tie loose, ripped it off my neck, and tossed it over my shoulder into the depths of the living room. He started on the buttons, grunting in frustration when they wouldn’t open.

I slapped his hands away. “No ripping. I’ll do it.”

He grumbled but contented himself with grabbing my already hard cock, squeezing and releasing it until my eyes rolled back into my head.

As soon as my shirt was opened, he scratched his fingers through my chest hair. When his mouth latched onto my nipple, I grabbed his head, holding him in place. “Fuck.”

We were both rock hard and a few hard thrusts away from coming in our pants, but I wanted more. The small whine he made when I pulled away made me smile even as it pushed me closer to the point of no return. I put a hand on his chest to keep him still. “Can I blow you?”

He dropped against the back of the sofa as if his strings had been cut. “Oh, God. Please.”

I kissed him hard one last time before scrambling off his lap to kneel at his feet. His eyes were locked on mine as I unbuckled his belt and opened his pants. When I wrapped my fingers over his waistband, he lifted his hips so I could tug his pants down. Just to torture him a little, I left his boxer briefs in place.

“Tease,” he gasped.

“You love it.” As I pushed his legs as far apart as they could go, off to my left, I heard the horrifying sound of someone clearing their throat.

Harlan’s eyes met mine, and we slowly turned as one. A roided-out guy stood in my living room watching me and Harlan getting freaky. Fantastic. At least he had the decency to be embarrassed. Too bad the giant fucking gun he had pointed at me completely negated his attempt at manners. This could only be the infamous MacArthur Tucker.

Harlan squeezed my shoulder, silently warning me not to do anything stupid. “Dash, did you forget to lock the door?”

Apparently. “Possibly. I was distracted.” I started to stand up.

Tucker narrowed his eyes at me. “Don’t move.”

Oh-kay. I reversed my movement.

That didn’t make him happy, either. “No, don’t, don’t do that! Get away from him.”

Great. My favorite thing. An idiot with a gun. Where was Agent Hothands when I needed him? I’d risk setting the room on fire for one good shot at this asshole. Maybe I could talk the gun away from him. “Tucker. Can I call you Tucker?” I waited for him to nod. “Good. Now, I’m not trying to get shot today. I’m happy to do whatever you want. So, should I stand up or not?”

He pondered that for a few long seconds. “Uh, stand up.”

Thank God. We were in a much too vulnerable position otherwise. As I stood, I shielded Harlan from Tucker’s view as much as possible as he tugged his pants to his knees.

Harlan stopped when Tucker took a step closer. “You, Dash. Go, uh, go. Shit. Wait.” Big forehead furrowing, Tucker patted the many pockets in his cargo shorts down with his free hand. I was reluctantly impressed with how steady his gun arm remained while he did. I knew from experience, guns got heavy after a while.

While Tucker was distracted, Harlan handed me my shirt, and we had a silent conversation. Should we rush him? I shook my head. Too risky. Harlan was still hobbled, and Tucker was too far away for me to reach him before he could get a shot off.

I hung my hopes on the fact that it was a lot harder to shoot a person than popular culture made it seem. Sure, Tucker had been in the army, but so had we. Neither Harlan nor I had ever fired a weapon outside of training and certification. Virginia wasn’t that dangerous. Since Tucker had been motor pool, it was highly unlikely he had either.

None of his crimes since had been violent, so I put the odds of him shooting anyone here at seventy-five percent at best. I only gave him twenty-five percent for shooting because he was obviously obsessed with Harlan, and powerful emotions could shut a person’s rational mind off.

“Got it!” Tucker triumphantly held up a pair of handcuffs he’d dug out of an overstuffed bag slung over his shoulder. He tossed them at me, and I caught them before they smacked into my face. “Handcuff yourself to something heavy.”

“Okay. Okay.” What would work? My eye landed on the stupidly heavy antique hutch my parents used as a combination china and liquor cabinet. “Will that work?”

“Yeah. Yes. Sure. But no games.” He turned the gun on Harlan. For the first time, I saw a slight tremble in his hand. “Or I shoot him.”

Shit. I held my hands out in surrender. “No games. I swear.” I hurried over to the cabinet and sat on the floor next to it. I clipped one cuff around the crossbar that connected the front leg to the back leg and the other over my left wrist.

As I did, Tucker kept the gun on and his eyes on Harlan, which could have been a fatal mistake if I’d been even a little more confident in my ability to take him down before he got a shot off.

On the off chance that an opportunity presented itself for me to act, Harlan kept Tucker focused on him. “So. Tucker.”

The jerk sighed in relief and lowered the gun a few millimeters. “Harlan. Man, it’s good to see you.”

What the actual fuck? I could feel Harlan struggling not to look at me. “Uh, yeah. You, too,” he said, sounding less than sincere. “Would it be okay if I pulled my pants up? I’m feeling a little exposed.”

Good idea. Let Harlan listen to him. Right now, I was furious that he dared to barge into my house, where my parents and nieces and nephews lived, carrying a loaded weapon. Violence wasn’t always the answer, but it sure as shit was feeling like the right thing now. If I could get my hands on the big fucker without risking Harlan’s safety, I would.

What Tucker didn’t know was that not only had I kept my dominant hand free, but Florin and I had each broken this crossbar more than once over the years. It was held together with chewing gum and a prayer at this point. I was surprised the weight of the cuffs hadn’t pulled it off. I just needed the right opportunity to move.

Tucker’s voice cut through my anger. “What does he have that I don’t have?”

I have Harlan, you fucker.

Harlan was standing up now, pants fastened securely. Good. “Tucker. MacArthur. Mac. Dash and I, we have a long history.”

Damn straight. “I have a feeling he knows somehow.”

The guy whirled on me and I froze. “Somehow? I was there when you guys met, asshole.”

“What?” Harlan asked.

When Tucker turned back to him, I got to my knees to be in a better position to move. Letting me get into a spot where he couldn’t see both of us at the same time really had been a big mistake on his part.

“You really don’t remember me?” Tucker sounded heartbroken.

Good.

“Mack Truck? I was at boot camp with you guys. And in the motor pool at INSCOM? I used to give you the best vehicles, remember?”

Oh, shit. That guy. MacArthur Tucker. Mack Truck. Of course. He was that scrawny, quiet guy who always seemed to lurk in the background. I couldn’t remember having a single one-on-one conversation with him. Now that I knew, I could see traces of that kid in the adult Mac’s face.

Harlan was doing his best to keep Tucker calm. “Mac. Tucker? What should I call you?”

“Mac is good.” His eyes darted back and forth between me and Harlan. “You gotta remember. We talked all the time. I was going to ask you out, but he beat me to it.” He practically spit venom on the word ”he.” “I kept hoping you’d see I was so much better for you. And then you sent me to the brig. But I know you didn’t mean it.”

“Oh, he meant it,” I muttered.

Harlan shot me a look, but Tucker either hadn’t heard or was choosing to ignore me.

“Great. Mac.” I could tell Harlan was choosing his words carefully so as not to upset the guy. “What, uh, why? Have you been tracking me all these years?”

“Yes!” He seemed delighted that Harlan had noticed. “When I got out of jail the first time, or maybe the second, I found out you’d finally gotten smart and dumped Assiel. I knew we were meant to be.”

I ignored the stupid nickname. If he thought he was being original, he was sadly mistaken. The first time someone had called me Assiel, I’d been in the second grade.

“How do you keep finding him? How did you find my parent’s house?” That was the part I couldn’t figure out.

He scoffed. “I always know where Harlan is. Always. It’s my superpower. That’s how I know we were meant to be together. I think I could find him on the moon.”

Wasn’t that fucking peachy?

Harlan didn’t seem to know what to say to that. Lucky for him, I did. I rattled the handcuff against the leg of the cabinet to get Tucker”s attention. Maybe if I made him mad enough, he’d do something stupid. “Hey, Truckstop. That’s really touching. And stupid. But what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

“Jesus Christ, Dash,” Harlan mouthed silently.

The question almost overloaded poor Tucker’s brain. He glared at me, and I could see what little sanity he’d started the day with was slipping away. He poked the gun at Harlan. “Him! I’m here for you, Harlan. I’m your nemesis!”

Ne-mee-sis? What the hell was that? Nemeesis? I mouthed the word a few times and then it hit me. “Oh! Nemesis. You’re his nemesis?”

“Yes!” Tucker nodded so vigorously, his overstuffed bag slipped off his shoulder and onto the ground. A bundle of brightly colored fabric slid out of it. “I’m your nemesis, Harlan. And you’re mine.”

At least he pronounced it correctly this time. “Do you know what that means?”

“It means we’re meant to be! We’re a perfect team!” Tucker’s voice begged Harlan to understand.

I scoffed. “No, it doesn’t, you idiot. It means you’re his enemy. You want to kill him.”

Harlan groaned and shut his eyes.

“I’m not trying to kill you!” Tucker shouted. “I love you!”

You could have heard a pin drop.

Oh, sweet baby Jesus. I wanted to say something, but my brain had nothing for me. Harlan looked stunned, like someone had hit him upside the back of the head with a baseball bat. His mouth kept opening and closing like a landed fish. I literally bit my tongue to keep myself from laughing, but a snort forced its way out despite my best efforts. The whole thing was so fucking ridiculous.

Harlan cleared his throat. He crossed his arms over his chest, then reconsidered and uncrossed them, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry. What?”

“I just wanted you to see how powerful I was. I was going to save you. To show you that I could be an excellent partner! Look!” He bent down quickly and grabbed up the pile of fabric.

Which would have been a great opportunity for either of us to get the jump on the guy, but we were both so gobsmacked we couldn’t move. At least, that was my excuse.

“Look,” he repeated as he shook out a red and blue something. “I got these made for us.”

The fabric unrolled completely to reveal an adult-sized full-body suit in red and blue spandex.

Harlan glared at me, but Tucker ignored me as, gun hanging loose at his side, he tossed the first suit over his shoulder and shook out the other lump of cloth. “Costumes! Matching for both of us!”

That was all I could take. It was just freaking stupid. All this fear and worry over some juicehead with delusions of superherodom and a seventeen-year-old crush on my boyfriend. There was no holding back my laughter now. I howled, rolling on the floor. Let him shoot me. If this was how I died, it would be worth it. Forgetting I was handcuffed to the liquor cabinet, I jerked my arm up to wipe the tears from my eyes and, in doing so, yanked the crossbar clean off.

The entire cabinet shook, bottles rattling against each other like wind chimes. One precariously balanced bottle fell off the shelf and hit the door, which swung slowly open. Bottles cascaded to the floor.

Tucker turned and finally remembered that he was holding a gun. He whipped it up and pointed it at me.

The door, which had been ajar the entire time, swung fully open and Freddy rushed in. From behind her, my mother called out, “Freddy, wait! We don’t know who’s in there!”

Harlan and I yelled a combination of no and stop at both Freddy and Tucker, but it was too late.

Tucker whipped around and pointed the gun at my five-year-old niece.

Freddy froze, eyes wide with fear.

My mother screamed.

Frogs of all shapes and sizes rained from the ceiling.

“What the fuck?” Tucker shouted, swinging the gun around wildly.

A giant cane toad leaped off the coffee table directly into Tucker’s face. He cursed and his arm jerked.

Praying to the fates I almost believed in, I leaped at Tucker, knowing as I did it was pointless.

The gun went off, deafening in the crowded room.

“No!” The cry tore from Harlan’s throat. His despair painfully clear, he reached desperately out like he was trying to snatch the bullet from the air. His yell echoed off the old chandelier and the glass-front cabinets.

The world stopped. For one terrifying second, the room was silent except for the sound of frogs and toads thudding to the carpet. Then I completed my tackle, driving Tucker face-first into the ground.

I heard Freddy sobbing and my mother praying in Romanian. Tucker was babbling. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” fell in a stream from his mouth.

If he’d hurt Freddy, he would be extremely sorry. There would be no hell too deep for him. I wrapped the handcuff chain around his neck and sat up, yanking his head back as I did. “Harlan!”

“She’s fine. She’s fine,” he called, knowing what I was asking. “Your mother is, too.”

“Where’d the bullet go?” Was it in the wall? Had it gone through the window?

Harlan, who had been kneeling beside Freddy to check her for injuries, struggled to his feet. “I’m not sure.”

My mother rushed over to grab Freddy up in a hug.

“Well, find it. We need it to put this fucker away for life. Assuming he lives long enough to be sentenced.” I yanked Tucker’s arms even higher just to hurt him. “I’m so sorry,” he wailed.

Harlan frowned as he traced the trajectory of the bullet. He examined the walls, the floor, the window ledge, stepping carefully over the frogs, and shook his head in confusion.

“What is happening?” my mother asked me in Romanian.

“Take Freddy away, and I’ll tell you everything later,” I promised in the same language.

My mother touched a spot on her neck and gave my open shirt a pointed look. “Everything?”

I copied her gesture and felt the heat of the bruise Harlan had sucked into my skin. “Jesus, mom. Not now.”

She berated me for taking the Lord’s name in vain and then herded Freddy into the kitchen for some ice cream.

“Anything?” I asked Harlan.

“Nothing. There’s no trace. I’ll have to come back with a crew and search, but it’s like it disappeared.”

“Okay.” I shook my head. “Okay. We’ll deal with that later. Call the police. We’ve got him on multiple counts of attempted murder, right?”

Tucker sobbed.

My mother came back into the living room and handed me something. “Here.”

It was a handcuff key. “Why do you have… you know what? I don’t want to know. I never want to know. Forget I asked.”

Harlan found his phone and called the police.

My mother glared at Tucker while I unlocked the cuffs from around my wrist and put them on Tucker. When he was secure, my mother exhaled and covered her mouth with a trembling hand, finally letting the fear show. She looked away, so I wouldn’t see her cry.

I felt it when she noticed the liquor cabinet. I braced for her comments, but she only walked over and picked up a bottle of ?uic?. “Does anyone else need a drink?”

I’d never needed anything more in my entire life.

The cops showed up and took statements from everyone, including Freddy. A sweet, young uniformed officer charmed her and my mother as he took their statements, even getting a few giggles out of Freddy. I made a mental note to write to his sergeant and tell them how grateful and impressed I was by the officer.

Harlan’s supervisor, Resident Agent in Charge Julie Caggliano, showed up and claimed jurisdiction, which SFPD was more than happy to give her. SPAM worked under its own rules, so Agent Caggliano interrogated Tucker right there. He’d get his turn with a defense lawyer later.

Under questioning, Tucker revealed that the necklace had been intended for him. His mysterious market seller had promised it would help him get his heart’s desire. But he’d overslept and missed his meeting with the seller. He’d arrived at the market just in time to see Serena pocketing it.

A bit of stalking and flirting later, he’d gotten her to spill everything about her crush on Harlan and her plans for the necklace. Tucker leaped on the chance to let Serena be the bad guy. All he had to do was wait for his chance to “save” Harlan from her machinations.

To his immense frustration, my presence had thwarted his plans every time. The glitter bomb had been more impulse than planned. Planning wasn’t Tucker’s strong point.

The love potion the officers found in Tucker’s bag was an unpleasant surprise. Even if it wouldn’t have worked, SPAM took attempts at mental and emotional manipulation seriously. The list of charges against Tucker grew.

Florin, Jennifer, and the rest of the kids arrived. Freddy jumped into her mother’s arms and promptly burst into tears. Elizabeta and her family and my father showed up a few seconds later.

The officers took Tucker away in the back of a patrol car. Harlan walked Agent Caggliano out, promising to call her tomorrow. There were reams of paperwork in his future.

I pulled Florin aside and recommended he find a child psychologist for Freddy. She seemed okay now, but she would eventually start processing the events of the night and it would be better for the whole family if they had a professional to guide them.

My mother, unbreakable rock of the family that she was, pulled together dinner for everyone, which we fell onto like a horde of ravenous animals.

By the time dinner was cleaned up, Freddy was sound asleep in Jennifer’s lap and I was completely and utterly wiped out.

Harlan sat slumped back on the sofa with one arm thrown over his eyes. I sat as close to him as I could. My father refused to let Freddy out of his sight. My mother kissed Harlan and me goodnight and went upstairs to her room.

Harlan and I were finally alone.

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Bed?”

Harlan nodded.

It took ten minutes for us to get up the energy to walk down the stairs.