“It’s been a damn long day.”
“Yeah, I suppose it has.” She sat up and saw him eyeing her throat. She brushed her fingers to the bruises she knew must be there. “I’m okay, Harley.”
“Yeah.” He took another drink and then stood. She noticed the wince as he moved quickly.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
She stood and walked to him. She looked him over and saw that although the cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding, it was caked with dry blood. “Does Gerry have a first aid kit somewhere?” she asked him.
“I’m fine, Norah.”
Norah straightened her back at his irritated tone. “You are going to let me clean that cut on your forehead,” she said sternly, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You don’t need to.”
“I don’t care what you think I don’t need to do. I am going to clean it even if I have to knock you over the head with that bottle of whiskey and then fix whatever cut that gives you too.”
Harley laughed slightly. “I don’t need even more of a headache. Come on, my guess would be that he keeps it in the bathroom.”
She followed him into the bathroom and took the first aid kit he handed her. He sat down on the toilet lid and she went to work cleaning his head with the alcohol wipe.
Harley suddenly became very aware how close Norah was to him. He fought the sudden urge to grab her around the waist and pull her down to him. What in the hell is wrong with me? he mentally asked himself.
Not only had they just met the day before, ever since they had met they had been on the run for their lives. Not twelve hours ago they were both very nearly killed and she was almost assaulted. Now he was imagining what her full lips would taste like under his. It was the whiskey, had to be the whiskey causing this reaction. Still, would she pull away if he reached for her?
“So where did Gerry go?” she asked, thankfully interrupting his thoughts.
Harley squeezed his eyes shut so he wasn’t staring at her full chest that was straining against the stolen jacket she wore.
“He went to the store to grab the things on my list.”
“That was very nice of him.”
“He’s one of the best.”
“So you said you guys met at a bar?” she asked, putting Neosporin on his forehead.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since about four years ago.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, the night I was going to—” He stopped. He really shouldn’t tell her about that night.
“Going to what?” she wondered as she put on a butterfly strip to hold his skin together.
“My father died when I was seventeen. He was shot during a bank robbery. My mother stayed focused on me and I lived with her until I was old enough to join the police academy. I worked hard, became a cop, and excelled quickly, and they had me undercover after only working about two years. I met Gerry when I was working that first undercover op.
“I saw him a few times after that whenever I would visit that bar, and we became friends, sort of. We only ever saw each other there. About four years after I met him, I found out my mother’s new boyfriend was beating her. He put her in the hospital and I was going to put him in the ground.”
Norah stilled. Not because of what he had said about his mother’s boyfriend, but because she had been on the receiving end of a beating that would have landed her in the hospital as well, only lucky for Clayton, he had hired an in-house doctor for the shelters and the good doc cared for her.
“Gerry gave me ten acres of land he owned, although not officially so it couldn’t be traced back to me. He even started the process of building me a small cottage on that land so I could go into hiding.”
“Did you kill him?”
“No, but I would have. Almost did, in fact, had it not been for a passerby. They let me go; the fucker wouldn’t press charges because he knew my mother would support me and he would end up in prison as well.”
“Is that how you started working for Tom?”
“They fired me for aggression and Tom took me on.”
His anger made even more sense now. Tom had taken him in when no one else would, and now that Tom turned out to be who he was, she imagined Harley was questioning his own personal choices.
“You aren’t like him.”
“Who?”
“Tom. You are a good man, Harley Andrews.”
“How can you say that?” he asked, standing. “I nearly killed a man four years ago, killed two men today, and very nearly got you raped because I was too blind to see my boss for who he was.”
“That man beat your mother, and having been at the end of an abuser, I would have loved to have had someone who loved me enough to risk themselves to save me. I wish I had loved myself enough to save myself. And as far as what happened earlier today, that was not your fault. You saved my life, Harley.” She gently touched the side of his face.
“I put it in danger in the first place.”
“No you didn’t, Clayton did. Besides, you fed me pancakes.”
“So all can be forgiven because I fed you?”
“Everything can be fixed with buttery, syrup-coated pancakes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She stood for a moment, hand on his face, staring into those steel-colored eyes. What am I feeling? she wondered. Lust? Sure, Harley was handsome. Respect? Absolutely, but could there possibly be more?
“Uh hum.” Gerry cleared his throat from the doorway and Norah dropped her hand. “Got your stuff, Harley.” He set two large bags down. “I’ll leave you two to it, then.”
“Thanks, Gerry,” Harley said, and lifted the bags. He took out a pair of scissors and handed them to her. “Sorry, Norah, you’re going to have to make some changes.”
She looked down at the scissors. She loved her hair. It might be silly, but it was something she had always been proud of. She sighed. “Can you cut it, please?” she asked, handing them back to him. “I would rather just shut my eyes and let it happen.”
His eyes widened, and he looked absolutely horrified. “I have never cut anyone’s hair before, ever.” She almost laughed as he looked back and forth between the scissors and her long hair.
“I’ll do it!” she heard Gerry yell from the other room, and he walked over. “I’ve surprisingly cut my share of hair.” He gently took the scissors. “Go on out there and finish putting your bags together, Harley. I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Gerry,” he said, and bolted.
“For a man who has been shot before, he looked incredibly terrified of those scissors,” Gerry said, laughing as he studied her hair.
“He sure did,” Norah agreed. “He is a good man.”
“He definitely is,” Gerry concurred, and Norah closed her eyes as he began cutting.
“He will keep you safe, Norah. Whatever trouble you have found yourself in, trust in Harley.”