CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MILES REALIZED WHAT was happening at about the same time as the others. He didn’t relax. He was too enraged.
“Fucking fireworks?” Armie crouched next to him at the side of the house.
Stack was there, too. “What the hell is going on?”
“I told you,” Miles said, his gun in his hand. “Someone is menacing her and I’m about done with it.” He stepped out cautiously, inhaling the acrid scent of smoke.
“Shit,” Justice said. “The barn roof!”
Backing up enough to see the roof, he realized small flames were beginning to lick upward. That wasn’t from a firecracker, damn it. Had the bastard somehow launched a Molotov cocktail at them?
Leese pointed toward the back property. “They were shot from back there. Loud blasts.”
Miles waffled. Chase after the fucker, or put out the fire?
Armie gave him a push. “Go on. We’ve got this.”
Already Denver had found the garden hose, Stack was leading it forward and Justice was halfway up the ladder. Miles glanced back at the house.
Brand said, “I’ll go in with the women. They’ll be fine.”
With all that taken care of, Miles took off in a full-out run. Leese was right behind him. They ran past smoldering blotches on the ground. Thank God for the recent storm. There was so much dry brush, they might have been putting out fires everywhere.
As they reached the edge of the woods, Miles slowed, his gun out and ready...and his instincts screaming.
Leese said, “I feel like he’s gone.”
“Same.” Miles scanned the woods. “But something feels off.” He put out an arm to stop Leese from going any farther.
They both breathed evenly, alert, listening, looking...
And finally Miles saw it. “Shit!” He pushed Leese back and down with the momentum of his own dive, landing half over his friend just as an explosion shook the ground. Thank God it wasn’t as powerful as it sounded, but the pile of exploding debris sent a shard of something into his left forearm, the burn searing.
Leese must have heard his grunt, because he immediately rolled Miles to the side and rose up over him. The way he winced told Miles he’d been hit, but he confirmed it with a glance—then cursed a blue streak.
The others were starting toward them. Miles sat up and shouted, “Don’t!” He struggled to his feet, telling Leese, “We have to move. There could be more traps set.”
Leese asked, “Do you need help?”
He shook his head. The chunk of glass that had sliced into his arm hurt like hell, but it didn’t affect his legs. As they walked, Leese tucked his gun into a pocket, then pulled off his shirt to catch the steady trickle of red blood.
Leese had to wrap it gingerly because jagged pieces of glass protruded. “I wonder what they have in the way of an emergency room around here.”
Already his hand went numb. “No idea.” He knew Maxi would be upset, but he didn’t know what he could do about it. Before he reached the house, the others were there with him. Smoke still trailed off the roof, but no flames.
Justice whistled. “Damn, man.”
Stack said, “This is looking less and less like paradise.”
“I’m thinking you need around-the-clock guards,” Cannon said.
Armie, the one handiest with injuries, took over without thinking about it. He wrapped the shirt loosely around Miles’s arm. “No telling how deep that’s in there. We have to get you to a hospital.”
Cannon said, “I’ll check on the women and let Brand know what’s going on.”
“And get some ice,” Armie said. “As much as you can.”
Before they reached the front of the house, Fletcher pulled up. When he saw them all together, he parked short and was out of his car in a rush. “What the hell happened?”
If it wouldn’t make him bleed more, Miles knew he’d flatten him. “Just happened by, Fletcher?”
“Hull’s brother said he might be here. He’s looking for him. Since I was driving by...” Fletcher’s gaze strayed from Miles’s injury to the gun in his right hand. “Is that loaded?”
“Someone,” Miles said, still walking, “shot fireworks at us, and I’m not talking sparklers. It caught the roof on fire. Since it came from the woods, I went to check it out and ran into a homemade bomb. So yeah, you bet your ass it’s fucking loaded.”
They all ignored him as they continued on.
Suddenly the back door burst open and Maxi came running out, her expression stricken. When she reached him, she slowed. As if no one else existed, she stopped to look at his arm—and then surprised him with her calm. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“That’s the plan,” Miles told her. He handed his gun to Armie, who, after an odd look, handed it to Justice. Now that he had a free hand, Miles smoothed her hair and drew her close. “I’m okay, but I do need stitches.”
She nodded. “I’m going with you.”
“Okay.” Hell, he wanted her with him where he could see her and know she was okay. “Someone can drive my car.”
“You can follow me,” Fletcher said. “I’d offer to drive, but I need to head right back here.”
Miles ground his teeth together. “Planning to investigate?”
“Yes, but I’d rather get you to a hospital first. Then I’ll come back here.” He scanned the faces of Miles’s friends. “Don’t anyone touch anything, and please don’t anyone leave.”
“That include the boys?” Leese asked. “You did say Hull’s brother was looking for him.”
“I’ll call Donny on the way.” Lifting a brow, he asked Miles, “You riding with me or—”
Leese said, “I’ll drive.”
“No.” Stack stepped forward. “This is your gig, so you’d do better to stay. I’ll drive.”
Leaving them to sort it out, Miles—with Maxi’s unnecessary assistance—got into the back seat.
Just then Cannon trotted out with multiple crushed ice packs, plenty of clean cloths and a Coke. Lifting the drink in salute, Cannon explained, “Sahara insisted you needed some sugar.”
He actually laughed. “Yeah, sugar is her cure for everything.”
“Thank her for us.” Maxi took everything from Cannon and got into the back seat with him. She fastened his seat belt, smoothed his hair, then told Stack, who’d won the driving debate, “Let’s get going, please.”
Stack smiled into the rearview mirror. “Yes, ma’am.”
Fletcher drove fast, Miles would give him credit for that. It took very little time to reach the hospital, and along the way Maxi pampered him.
He didn’t need pampering, of course, but she seemed so intent on it, so focused, he let her do as she pleased. Hell, he was impressed with how well she kept it together. She’d unwrapped Leese’s shirt from around his arm, saw the gruesome damage, and although she gasped, she otherwise didn’t react. Carefully she put clean cloths around him, then the ice at either side of the injury.
The pain in his arm was nothing compared to the rage inside him. What if Maxi had been up there by the woods? What if they’d all still been there working? Someone could have lost an eye, or worse, been killed. Pieces of the explosive device were deadly—chunks of metal, glass, wood.
As if she knew the tingling in his hand, Maxi touched each finger, gently flexing. “Not much longer.”
That slight tremble in her voice devastated him. The way she leaned over him, her head bent as she continually examined the wound, the closest he could get was to kiss the bridge of her nose. It wasn’t enough, but for now it’d have to do.
When she looked up at him, he said, “I really am okay, babe.”
“I know.” She kissed his shoulder, his sternum, his chin. “Do you realize you’re still shirtless? It’s going to shut down the hospital.”
“Leese gave me his shirt,” Miles told her, so if he’d driven, he’d be shirtless, too.
“I thought to grab mine,” Stack said with a grin.
“Thank goodness.” Maxi tried to smile, but it was a strained effort at best. “Two of you semi-naked would cause a riot.”
Stack said, “I’m impressed, Maxi.”
She lifted her brows. “About what?”
“Your lack of hysterics.”
That brought her brows back down. “Because I’m female?”
Stack snorted. “No. Male or female, most people would be freaking out right about now. But you’re not.” He never took his eyes off the road. “I hope that’s not because you’ve been through so much, you’re getting immune.”
“It’s not,” she assured him. “It’s just that hysterics wouldn’t help anything. Once I get Miles back home and in bed, I’ll probably fall apart.”
Stack grinned. He, at least, knew Miles had no intention of going to bed over a hurt arm.
“I left my gun behind,” Miles said, “but if anything happens, I have another in the glove box. I don’t think it should come into the hospital with me, but I wanted you to know where it is.”
“Sure, Calamity Jane,” he replied. “Though you realize guns aren’t my thing, right?” He lifted a fist. “These are the weapons I usually use.”
“And your feet and knees and elbows,” Miles added. To Maxi, he explained, “Stack is brutal in the cage, but MMA fighters rarely need guns.”
Wide-eyed, she repeated, “You have another gun in the glove box?”
So that was the only part she’d heard? “Of course I do.” He leaned forward for another kiss, this one on her slightly parted lips. “I’m not taking any chances with protecting you.”
Maxi hugged herself up to his side, her face in his neck, and whispered, “Please just worry about being okay.”
He didn’t bother telling her again that he was absolutely fine. She’d find that out soon enough now that they were in the hospital parking lot.
It did cause some chaos, walking in shirtless, but Maxi didn’t put up with any gawking. They lucked out that it was a slow night, according to the doctor, because Miles was seen right away.
Fletcher came in with them to explain what had happened, but he didn’t stick around. He said he was heading back to check out the scene—not that Miles trusted him to actually do his damned job. He felt more confident that Leese and Justice would get the details needed, and that they’d follow any trail that might remain.
Maybe it was time to call in the city cops.
He was still stewing on that when less than three hours later, with a tetanus shot and twenty-five stitches, they were on their way back home. As he’d told Maxi, he was fine. No arteries hit—which he knew, or there’d have been a lot more bleeding. And no bones chipped—which he also knew because he’d had broken bones. He’d have a scar, but fighters, or retired fighters, didn’t worry about things like that.
Maxi, leaning against his good side, was far too quiet.
When she looked up at him, he saw it in her eyes and knew what she would say, so he beat her to it. “No.”
She blinked as if surprised. “No what?”
“No, I’m not leaving.” She, on the other hand, needed to go until he could make it safe.
Her gaze shifted away from his, and her fingertips stroked his shoulder. “It’s getting too dangerous.”
From the front seat, Stack said, “Someone is getting desperate. If the house is suddenly empty, the threats will stop, and you’ll never know who was doing it.”
She frowned. “I don’t want that.” And then, in a lower voice, she added, “Someone has to pay.”
“Exactly.” Miles tipped up her chin. “It can’t be empty, but, honey, you can’t stay.”
A dozen emotions flitted over her face until she settled on pacifying him. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?” She went back to leaning on his shoulder and petting him.
Disgusted, Miles said to Stack, “That’s her way of telling me she doesn’t plan to budge.”
With a sigh, Maxi said, “My house, my problems. And no, Miles, don’t act like I’m an idiot who doesn’t see logic. I’ll be extra careful. Shoot, I’ll put a privacy fence along the woods, even. But I’m not going to let some nut drive me away.” She absently trailed a hand over his bare abs. “Besides, Fletcher might have some news for us when we get home.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” Somehow he’d convince her to leave the house for a while. He wasn’t sure how, but something would come to him.
* * *
THEY ARRIVED HOME to find the crowd even bigger, and Fletcher nowhere to be seen.
It was a subdued party for sure, but among their ranks, Maxi saw that Gary had shown up and was talking quietly with Harlow. The urge to have him booted out burned like a volcano ready to erupt, but with so many people around she didn’t want to cause yet another scene. The day had been insane enough.
Forcing her attention away from Gary, she spotted Woody. The young man he spoke with looked enough like Hull for her to assume he was Hull’s brother.
Sahara served drinks and food to everyone, basically playing hostess in Maxi’s absence. Even as she envied Sahara the ease with which she took over, Maxi appreciated the effort.
The other fighters were spread out, Armie, Cannon and Denver talking to the boys, Justice and Leese with Fallon and Catalina. Now that they’d returned, though, some of them headed over to talk to Miles.
With no thought of usurping Sahara’s current reign, Maxi tried to usher him inside before his friends reached them.
Resisting her efforts easily, he gave her a long look. “When I go to bed, it’ll be tonight with you, not before, so save your energy.”
Hoping no one had overheard him, Maxi crossed her arms. She should be annoyed with him for his stubbornness—after all, he’d lost a lot of blood, and despite his stoic manner, he had to be in pain. Bruising had formed on his arm from above his knuckles to his elbow.
Unfortunately, she understood that for a take-charge man like Miles, it wouldn’t be easy to leave questions unanswered. Getting annoyed would serve no purpose, so she let it go with a long sigh.
Leese joined them, saying right away, “There wasn’t a trail to follow, but Fletcher said he has some ideas.”
Disbelieving, Miles asked, “Where is Fletcher?”
Cannon nodded his head toward the back of the property. “Still up there poking around.”
“Great,” Miles muttered. “So even if I wanted to call in the city police, he’s probably fucked the scene.”
Leese shrugged. “Probably. I took my own photos and did some poking around, too.”
“And?” Miles asked.
“There really wasn’t much to see except the remains of the makeshift bomb. Basically just a bunch of garbage jammed into a can with fuel. Rocks under one side of the can aimed it toward Maxi’s field. It was so amateurish that it could’ve been made by a kid.”
Maxi knew without asking that Miles wasn’t looking at this as a juvenile prank gone wrong. On its own, maybe, but not as part of the ongoing harassment and threats.
Woody came over to see them, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, consternation pulling his gray brows in a frown of worry. “You okay, Miles? Your friends told me what happened.”
Miles lifted his bandaged arm. “Fine, just a few stitches. Nothing to worry about.”
The casual attitude didn’t reassure Woody. “I keep thinking about Meryl, how she might’ve been here all alone when this happened. It’s usually so quiet out here, fireworks like that would’ve scared her half to death, but she’d have been worried about her cats and would have gone right out of the house to check on them.” He shook his head. “Damned scary.”
That was the very moment that it struck Maxi: What if her grandmother hadn’t fallen? What if, God forbid, she’d been murdered?
Dazed with the idea, she swayed on her feet. Miles, always so attuned to her, pulled her into his side. Even one-armed, he was such a rock that she gladly leaned against him while tumultuous thoughts blasted through her brain.
Near her ear, he asked softly, “Hey, you okay?”
She needed to talk to him alone as soon as possible. “Yes, but—”
Misunderstanding her upset, Woody said fast, “We checked on the cats. Most of them hunkered down in the barn, so don’t you worry none. The smoke was all on the outside. I’m sure they’re fine.”
The cats were okay—but Miles could have been killed.
Like my grandma?
The new possibility made everything different—because now she was doubly determined to find the person responsible. She wanted him to pay dearly for all the heartache he’d caused.
Mean-spirited pranks probably designed to run her off, scare tactics that caused an injury, an invasion of her privacy—those were bad enough. Scary enough. But murder?
Maxi didn’t realize how tense she’d gotten until Miles stroked his hand up and down her arm. The last thing he needed right now was her having a meltdown, so she pulled it together. She would have silently plotted, too, but the man Woody had been talking to, younger and new to the group, joined them.
Hand out, he greeted Maxi first. “I’m Donny, Hull’s brother.”
“Maxi Nevar. I inherited my grandmother’s property.” Accepting the handshake, she said, “I’m so sorry about this, Donny. It’s not what we expected to happen when we invited the boys here.” What a terrible way for her to meet others in the community, by dragging boys into danger.
“Not your fault.” His curious gaze went to Miles, who had to let her go so he could shake hands, as well.
“Nice to meet you, Donny.”
“Same.” He cleared his throat. “So you’re Miles Dartman, huh? I mean, I know you are because Armie told me.” He wiped his hands on his jeans in a nervous gesture. “Never expected to find a bunch of SBC fighters hanging around here.”
“You follow the sport?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, with a “duh” inflection. “Can’t believe Hull didn’t tell me.”
Miles smiled. “I imagine since I’ll be here, my friends will be here often, too.”
Maxi froze as those words sank in. Since I’ll be here. When had that been decided? Or maybe he meant just in the present, not the future—
“About Hull...” Donny glanced toward his brother, who showed signs of hero worship as he spoke with Armie and Denver. “He had a great time and I appreciate you including him.”
“He worked hard,” Miles said.
“Yeah.” Almost pained, Donny ran a hand over his head. “We haven’t had problems like this for a long time. It’s a mostly quiet area. Hull’s kicking up a fit about it, but I know our parents won’t want him around again until you get things under control.”
Maxi could see how it grieved the young man to have to say that, likely because he wanted to hang around, too. “I agree.” She turned to Woody, who stood there in his own silent misery. “The same goes for you, too. I’d feel terrible if any of you got hurt in any way.”
Donny put a hand on Woody’s shoulder. “Fletcher watches out for him now. Payback, you know? I don’t doubt he’s already grounded Woody away from here.”
Woody glared at him but then softened his expression for Miles and Maxi. “I should get going, too, I guess.”
His smile staying fixed in place, Miles stopped him before he’d taken a single step. “Why would Fletcher warn you away?”
Donny, still being helpful, said, “Woody might not feel like he needs someone looking out for him, but his grandson disagrees.” He winked, then called to Hull.
Grandson? Maxi tried to get that to click into place, but her brain felt sluggish.
Miles was a little quicker. “Fletcher is your grandson?”
Hull had just reached them. “You didn’t know that? Woody raised them both.”
“Both?” Maxi asked, even more confused.
“Fletcher and his sis, Anna,” Donny said.
“But...Woody’s and Fletcher’s last names are different.”
“My daughter’s kids,” Woody explained. “She and her husband died in a car accident.”
“Anna’s only a year or two younger than Fletcher,” Donny explained. “Woody raised them like they were his own.”
Woody scowled. “It’s not a big deal to take in your kin.”
Donny grinned. “Taking in two kids was enough, but Fletcher was a real hell-raiser to boot, always has been, always will be. It helps that he’s an officer now. Gives him a license to be bossy, you know?”
Miles narrowed his eyes, and that worried Maxi. “He seems like a very calm, controlled person to me.”
Donny laughed. “It was only five or six years ago that he got in his last scuffle. Caused such a spectacle, the whole town knew about it.”
“In a town this size,” Maxi said, “I imagine everyone knows everything about everyone else.”
“True.” Donny leaned closer in a conspiratorial way. “This was huge, though. Fletcher went after a couple of bad-news dudes with a baseball bat. Put them both in the hospital, too.”
Miles lifted his brows. “Was there a reason?”
“Young and dumb,” Woody grumbled. “That was the reason.”
Twenty-five or -six wasn’t all that young, Maxi thought, curious about this other side to Fletcher.
“C’mon, Woody,” Donny said, “you know Fletcher always liked to hit first and ask questions later.”
Gruff in his defense, Woody said, “The boy has a temper, that’s all. He went through a lot, losing his folks the way he did. But he turned it around.” Woody glanced at Miles. “I’m real proud of him for being county police.”
“And actually,” Donny added, “the guys were hassling Anna about something. Fletcher doesn’t tolerate anyone giving his sister grief. The two of them are real close.”
Miles didn’t look impressed with any of it. “If he assaulted two people, what came of it?”
“The guys threatened to file charges. They yelled it all over town.” Donny shrugged. “But then they split and no one ever heard from them again.”
Maxi tried not to look as surprised as she felt at the disclosures. “I don’t think I’ve met Anna.”
“Um...she’s not around here anymore.” Donny sent a furtive glance at Woody, then quickly focused on his brother. “We’re late as it is. Tell Fletcher if he needs to talk more to Hull, he’ll have to come to our house, with our folks there.”
“Tell him yourself,” Woody said. “I’m heading out with you.”
“I’ll tell him,” Maxi offered, just to keep the peace.
Miles watched them go, his expression probing.
So many things bombarded Maxi that she wasn’t sure where to start. The indecision ended quickly when she spotted Sahara going into the house with an empty pitcher of tea.
She turned to Miles. “Will you please sit down?”
“What for? My legs weren’t injured. Besides, I want to take a look—”
She threw up her hands. “Fine. Suit yourself.” Arguing with him had never done her any good, and if she didn’t hurry, Sahara would be right back outside again. Sahara was not a woman to dawdle. “If you get hurt again, I’m going to...” While she tried to think of something dire, Miles grinned.
Gently, he brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “What?”
Blast, but it was so easy for him to distract her. “I’ll think of something.”
He stopped her from running off. “You sure you’re okay?”
Impatient now, she nodded. “I’m going in to get a drink. Do you need anything? Aspirin maybe?”
Unconvinced, he studied her. “No, I’m fine.”
That made her roll her eyes. The man was wounded, not fine, but she didn’t want to lose her opportunity to speak to Sahara alone. She turned to Leese. “Watch him, okay?”
Leese said, “Uh...yeah, sure.”
With no more assurance than that, she walked quickly into the house. Sahara was just on her way out, but Maxi relieved her of the pitcher, saying, “Can I ask you something?” as she hooked her arm and led her back into the kitchen.
Sahara never faltered, switching direction and going along without a single objection.
In the kitchen, Maxi put the pitcher back on the counter and asked without preamble, “How can I get a gun?”
Without a single show of surprise, Sahara said, “It’s not difficult as long as you can pass a background check.”
“I’m sure I can.” If she ever found the person who had hurt Miles, it might become a problem, since he was the one she wanted to shoot.
“Then I can help you. What type gun would you like?”
She knew nothing about guns, but she understood her own limitations. “Something easy to load, and easy to use.”
“A revolver, then. Small?”
Thinking that she might have to hide it from Miles, she nodded. “Please.”
“Have you ever shot a gun?”
“Does laser tag count?”
Sahara gave her a look. “Unfortunately, no. But I can get you a gun with a laser on it so you’ll know if your aim is true.” Leaning back on the counter, arms crossed, she asked, “Why do you want it?”
“For protection, of course.”
“Miles is your protection.”
Yes, he had been...and now he had a giant gash on his arm. “I’m going to let him go.”
Sahara shot forward, her relaxed posture blown. “You’re firing one of my bodyguards?”
“Shh,” Maxi cautioned. “I’m not firing him. I’m just calling it quits.”
“No, absolutely not.” Sahara turned and started out of the kitchen with a determined, militant stride.
“Where are you going?” Maxi rushed to keep up with her.
“I will not have the agency’s rep damaged.” Finger thrust in the air, she stated, “Body Armor finishes what it starts!”
“But this isn’t ending,” Maxi explained in a panic. She got ahead of Sahara and, arms spread, barred the door. “You saw what happened. You know how long it’s been.”
“Pfft.” Sahara lifted her nose. “Hardly any time at all has passed, and clearly the danger has amplified. If you fire Miles now, it’s not only going to infuriate him, but it’s going to reflect badly on the entire agency.”
“I’ll give a sterling recommendation.”
“And say what? That we failed? Unthinkable. I’ll help you get a gun. You can even come to the agency to practice shooting if you’d like. But you can’t dismiss a bodyguard in the middle of a case.”
From behind Maxi, Miles said, “No one is dismissing me.”
Eyes widening, Maxi bit back her groan and instead, in a harsh whisper, complained to Sahara, “You could have told me he was there.”
“When I was going out to explain all this to him? You just saved me the trouble.” She reached for the door handle, paused to say, “The tea. I almost forgot,” then pivoted back for the kitchen.
Maxi huffed out a breath, girded herself and turned around to face Miles.
Holding the door open, he stepped into her space, crowding her back, his eyes piecing in their directness. “We are not done.”
She’d never seen Miles volatile like this. Furious, yes. Sarcastic, sure. But now he looked ready to implode.
She stiffened her resolve. “Sahara is going to help me get a gun.”
He said, “No.”
Her eyes flared. Of all the... “You don’t tell me what to do!”
Moving closer until her shoulders touched the wall, he leaned in to brace his uninjured forearm beside her head. “Let me rephrase that. You don’t need a gun. I’m your protection.”
“You,” she emphasized, “got hurt.”
His mouth tightened. “So what? You know I got hurt as a fighter, too. Far as injuries go, this was nothing.”
Incredulous at his attitude, she dropped her head back to the wall with a thunk. “You could have been killed.”
His forehead touched hers. “And if you’d been here alone, Maxi? You think you’d have fared better?”
As she passed with the tea pitcher, Sahara said, “I’m going to help her get a gun and teach her to shoot.”
Miles closed his eyes, then straightened to say to his boss, “No you’re not.”
Unperturbed, Sahara kept going.
“If you weren’t injured,” Maxi growled, “I’d sock you.”
His gaze bored into hers. “I have guns. If you want to learn to shoot, I’ll teach you.”
She opened her mouth...but rethought blasting him when she realized what he’d said. “You will?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
His eyes narrowed more. “In a hurry?”
Given everything she’d realized today, all her new suspicions? “Definitely.” If need be, she’d protect him.
“Then we can start tonight if you want, after our company leaves.”
Anticipating her first lesson, she asked, “Any idea when that might be?”
“You want to boot out my friends, too?”
Ignoring the growled tone, and the implication that she didn’t like their guests, she said, “No, of course not. It’s just that—”
“They already started stringing the wire fencing, so it might be late.”
Maxi weighed her need to tell Miles of her suspicions with the need to have that area fenced. Everyone was already here, and the day had been crazy enough without adding her suspicions—suspicions that could be totally ungrounded.
She’d still tell Miles, of course, but she made the decision to wait until they were alone.
“Well, excuse me.”
At that intrusive voice, Miles and Maxi stared at each other. He lifted a sardonic brow. “Want me to handle this so it’s over once and for all?”
Since she’d just been thinking about murder, it was no wonder his acerbic tone had her whispering, “What are you suggesting?”
“This.” He stepped away, putting himself in Gary’s path. “You’re going to leave, and not come back.”
“But—”
Muscles flexed in his biceps and shoulders. “And you won’t call her anymore.”
“But I—”
“And,” Miles said, his quiet tone somehow extra threatening, “if you bother her again, you’ll answer to me. Understand, Gary, I’m not nearly as patient as she’s been.”
Silence pulsed around them.
Miles took a step closer. “Go.”
“This is bullshit!” Even as he said it, Gary turned to run out, almost knocking over her sister.
Harlow, insulted, glared at Gary’s retreating back. “He is such a disappointment.”
“But I’m not,” Miles said, drawing her startled attention. “So knock it off, okay? I don’t know about Maxi, but I’ve had more than enough ridiculous drama.” He shouldered his way around her and went back out to the yard.
Maxi grinned at the way he’d shut down her domineering sister. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Nodding, Harlow said, “In many ways.” She looked Maxi over with concern. “You’re okay?”
“Yup.”
Harlow sighed. “You’re not going to leave, are you?”
Feeling absurdly cheerful, Maxi said, “Nope.”
Looking away, Harlow whispered, “When I realized what could have happened today, God, what you’ve already been through...I don’t mind telling you, Maxi, it made me feel like crap.”
“I never wanted that.”
“I know.” She rubbed her brow. “You’re my sister, and although we’ve had our differences, I hope you know—”
“You love me,” Maxi said for her. “Back atcha.”
“We’re family, through thick and thin. I lost Mom. I don’t want to lose you, too.”
That statement was so full of acceptance that Maxi hugged her. “You won’t,” she promised.
With a touch of desperation, Harlow squeezed her tight, then thrust her back the length of her arms. “Since you rarely listen, I’m only going to tell you this once—your bodyguard is a keeper. Do your best not to screw it up.”
And there, Maxi thought with errant humor, was her bossy, judgmental sister. She didn’t mind the warning; at her age, she was well used to her sister’s general attitude on things. This time, however, it was probably out of her hands. After all, she and Miles had hit it off from the start, but she was afraid she’d already burned that bridge by walking away.
Now only time would tell.