“Evie’s accounts?” Harlow had no idea what to say to that. What did Shep know about his brother? Harlow had always been under the impression that Simon kept his work confidential.
“Something else, then? Is he part of your cybersecurity team?”
“Look…” Questions like those weren’t for a kid to know. “You’re the one who should be answering the questions right now, not me. I don’t owe you anything. I came here because this is where I knew I’d find Evie, and now I want to know why, exactly, it is that she’s here.”
Silence descended, interrupted only when Shep snorted. “Oh, I get it now. You’re fucking him, aren’t you? That would explain what I found.”
Evie sat up straighter, looking every bit as horrified as Harlow felt. “Shep!”
Fucking Simon? The thought dripped from Harlow’s mind thick and dark, pooling first in the back of his skull before it dripped down his spinal cord to gather in forgotten, private places. Simon had always been a voice on the phone—someone Harlow immensely enjoyed speaking to, and who he was incredibly fond of, but who lived too far away to consider as a partner. But to have him here now, a gorgeous body in addition to an adorable, sweet mind, stripped down to his boxer-briefs, his t-shirt hiked up his chest to expose the pale dip of his navel, his eyelids heavy with lust and his lips ruddy and glossed from hard, heavy kissing…
The darkness in Harlow’s gut throbbed, and his heart squeezed at the same time in sudden, urgent need.
In his mind, Simon’s thumb dipped beneath the thick band of the elastic at his hips. He inched his boxer-briefs downward, exposing forbidden skin…
“‘Shep’ is right,” a new voice said from the doorway, pulling Harlow from his thoughts. Harlow glanced across the room to find a slender young man leaning in the doorframe, his arms crossed over a black, faux-leather shirt. It was open on the sides to the armpit, lined with silver eyelets through which were threaded black ribbon that stitched it loosely closed. Tight jeans adhered to his legs and flaunted the curve of his ass, but despite how he celebrated his body, his most striking feature was his face. Flawless skin, full pink lips, high cheekbones, and killer smoky eyes flirted with Harlow from afar.
Harlow was disquieted by it.
There was no doubt that the man in the doorway was beautiful, but he wasn’t the kind of man that Harlow was attracted to. A winning, come-hither smile was fine, but what Harlow needed was…
Blushing cheeks. A downcast gaze.
Humility.
“First things first,” the man in the doorway said. “No one’s fucking anyone. Shep, you’re looking for a fight and I know it. Knock it off, okay? I’m pretty sure that Evie’s dad didn’t end up killing Simon, and if that’s the case, then we should at least try to be nice to him, okay?”
“Not okay,” Shep muttered.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Second things second, Mr. Warwick, are you, in fact, here to kill us? Because that’s going to affect what I suggest next.”
“I’m not here to kill you,” Harlow replied. “All I want is to understand what’s going on.”
“Then we’re on the same page. Wonderful.” The man in the doorway jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Somehow, I managed to get Parker to settle down. He’s napping now. We arenotgoing to have a conversation in the room next to his. Let’s all migrate to the living room so we can talk about this like adults,” he emphasized those words, staring Shep down, “and figure out what the hell is happening. Sound good?”
“Whatever.” Shep climbed to his feet and offered Evie his hand. Despite his sour attitude, it was a sweet gesture. Harlow didn’t have a high opinion of him after the baseball bat incident and the inflammatory things he’d said, but he redeemed himself, if only slightly, in the way he cared for Evie. In everything he did, he made it clear he cared for her.
One day, if he kept it up, Harlow might find it in his heart to forgive him.
“Whatever is good enough for me. Shep, Evie, let’s go.” The man stepped into the room so the teens could exit, and once they had, he lifted a penciled-in eyebrow and met Harlow’s gaze. “Because no one’s likely said it to you yet, I’m sorry for the headache you must be going through. I’m Jayne.”
“Harlow,” Harlow replied. “Simon’s already apologized.”
“He’s not dead, is he?” Jayne asked. “Because Shep is hard enough to deal with as it is.”
“Simon’s not dead.”
“But he’s not quite alive, either, I take it.” Jayne clicked his tongue thoughtfully, then shook his head. “That’s okay. As long as he’s conscious, I can save him. Is he alert enough to participate in the conversation we’re about to have while I tend to whatever’s wrong?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Then let’s get going.” Jayne stepped away from the door and gestured through it, inviting Harlow to exit first. “It’s time to figure out what kind of pseudo Romeo and Juliet bullshit we’re dealing with. If we’re lucky, we’ll have this thing nipped in the bud in the next half hour and my night won’t be ruined. Wouldn’t that be a welcome change?”
The question, Harlow was sure, was semi-rhetorical at least. He played it safe and nodded, then stepped through the door and headed down the hall. While he was glad that Evie wasn’t in danger or being held against her will, he couldn’t help but think that recovering her from legitimate kidnappers would have been easier. Whatever was about to unfold in the living room was something not even Hell Week could have prepared him for. But there was no option to drop on request when it came to parenthood, and no brass bell waiting just ahead for Harlow to ring. The struggles he faced were his to endure, no matter how difficult and no matter how trying.
But Evie deserved his courage.
Their unit had shrunk, their team diminished. With just him and Evie left, he couldn’t quit now, no matter how hard it got. Harlow wouldn’t leave her behind. Whatever it took from him, and whatever burdens he had to shoulder, he would be there for her.
He’d earned his Trident—proved himself by sea, air, and land. It was time he proved himself at home, too.
