KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4) (30 page)

Harley-Present Day

I slipped into Xander’s office and closed the door. Behind a couple of books on a high shelf were some burner phones that I’d given Xander when all this began. I took one out to the garden when the sun was just beginning to rise in the eastern sky.

Philip’s phone number was one of the first things that came back to me in total detail.

“Harley? Is that really you?”

“It is.”

“How are you? Xander called and told me you’d been hurt, that you had no memory of the last three years!”

“Yeah, well, things have a way of changing.”

“That’s great!”

“Listen, Philip,” I said, as I paced in among the rose bushes. “I think we have a problem. Who have you talked to about our plan?”

“Only the people I told you about.”

“That guy at Homeland Security and the CIA agent, right?”

“Right. Why?”

I didn’t answer right away. My thoughts were whirling, as I tried to work out everything I knew and everything that was slowly coming back to me. There were still a few blank spots in my memory, mostly minor things that likely would never come back—like I couldn’t remember where we were the last time Philip and I met in person, but I could remember there was food involved. However, those blanks made some of the other things I did remember seem suspect. So I had to do this carefully.

“The reporter…?”

“Colin Francis. He’s still in Los Angeles. In fact, I talked to him last night, and he said he saw you at some party?”

“Why didn’t he know about my accident?”

“Because Xander and I thought it would be best if no one knew about it since we had no clue who actually ran you down. We thought publicity about the whole thing might put you in danger, so Xander pulled some strings, I had my dad pull some strings, and the story appeared at the back of the lifestyles section of the paper and didn’t make it to the online version.”

“What did he think happened? That I chickened out?”

“Yeah. We didn’t know what else to do.”

“Call him. Tell him I want to talk to him today.”

“Is that really a good idea, Harley? Have you talked to Xander about this?”

“We need to finish this before someone else gets hurt.”

Philip was silent for a minute. And then I heard him sigh on the other end of the phone.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’ll set it up.”

I sat on the back porch in a small, wicker chair that I bought myself not long after moving in with Xander to wait. If my suspicions were right, it wouldn’t be a long wait.

I still couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that I’d lost an entire three years of my life. It was kind of surreal, like one of those movies when a guy plays around with time travel and suddenly returns to the present with new memories implanting themselves in his mind. I still felt like the stupid girl who couldn’t remember Xander and everything that happened to me just before and after my college graduation. The things that forced me to grow up and become the somewhat jaded person I’d become. But I now remembered the girl I became because of those experiences. But I wasn’t completely her again. I was something different; I was a mixture of the two, born out of the experiences I’d had since I woke from my coma.

It’s hard to explain. I knew who I was and where I belonged. But I wasn’t who I had been two and half months ago when that car hit me.

Whether that change was for the better or the worse remained to be seen.

I ran my fingers over my super-short hair and watched the birds come out to play, as the sun came fully into the morning sky. I loved it out here; I loved this house, this garden. The moment Xander first brought me here, I fell in love with it all. It seemed surreal that I would forget all that. But I hadn’t, had I? I sensed a kinship with this place—even when I couldn’t remember the long hours I’d spent out here with a sketchpad in my lap or an easel set up in front of me. Just like when I defied my father and stayed here with Xander; some part of me remembered that Xander was the love of my life and I had no reason not to trust him.

The women in his life, on the other hand…

I thought I heard a gate squeak. It briefly crossed my mind that it was unwise to be out here without some sort of weapon, but then it was too late.

“I figured you’d be out here.”

Xander

I rolled over to reach for Harley, but she wasn’t there. I groaned, wondering if she was in the bathroom. She was a fairly light sleeper, and she was in and out of bed a dozen times most nights. I used to tease her about her tiny bladder, but she joked back that it would be good practice for when our first baby came. She figured after that, she’d learn to sleep a little better and the second one would be my problem.

I was ready to live out that fantasy.

I closed my eyes and thought about the past twenty hours or so. One minute I’m trying to keep my hands off my own wife, the next I’m making love to her like the past few months had never happened. Talk about your whirlwinds.

When she told me we had to pretend to break up, I was determined to talk her out of it. What good would it do for us to be miserable if we were just going to end up going to jail? I couldn’t see any way out of the situation I’d gotten myself into with Grant and the whole terrorism thing. The federal agent I’d been talking to was clearly trying to find a way to drag me into the middle of everything—just like Harley said. And the fact that I’d installed illegal software on Grant’s computers was enough for them to put me away for at least ten years.

But her plan was brilliant. That is, until she got hit by a car.

I was so wrapped up in keeping word of her accident out of the papers and watching over her, praying she would wake up whole, that it never really occurred to me to worry about who had done the deed in the first place. Who was driving that car? How did it happen to be there, on that particular street, on that particular day? Was it just an accident? I know that section of Third Street is very dangerous. There are dozens of accidents there every year. But was it possible that this hadn’t been an accident? Had someone been expecting Harley to be there at that time and place, as she had been for the prior twelve weeks leading up to that day?

Why had it not occurred to me that the accident might have been intentional? Or that Harley could still be in danger?

I just…I guess a part of me was so happy to have her back in my presence that I forgot about why we were separated in the first place.

It killed my soul to watch her pack up her bags, taking only the things that were absolutely necessary, but still her things. She kept reassuring me that she would be back; that’s why she didn’t take the majority of her clothes, or her winter clothes. But it still hurt. We were supposed to be married in a week. Instead, we were calling caterers and florists and the awesome DJ we’d found and telling them the wedding was off.

“We’ll go to the house in Santa Monica and get married on the beach,” she’d told me. And we did. And it was the most beautiful ceremony…a beautiful moment just between she and I and the pastor. It was so much better than the ostentatious ceremony we planned more for the benefit of our families than for ourselves.

But it was a nightmare to have to watch her walk away from me when the weekend was over.

We both had a role to play. Not a week after she left me, my mom came by the house and asked if I’d noticed anything unusual about the security software installed at the firm. And that’s how it all began to unfold.

“No, Mom. If there was anything coming up in our software, I would have called you.”

“Yeah, well, Grant’s worried that someone’s been fishing around inside his computers. He has some sort of software that helps him detect spyware. He thinks someone might have tried to search his computer for private client information.”

“Really? Should I come over and take a look?”

My mom shook her head, a touch of shame coloring her cheeks. “Grant wants to go in a different direction.”

“Is he looking for a new security firm?”

“No, of course not.” She touched my hand lightly. “He’s just worried about someone using some of the information in his computers. You know, most of that information is highly sensitive.”

“I know. That’s why he hired me in the first place, right?”

My mom smiled. “I suppose so.”

But then she began to move around the room quite nervously, as if she had something to say that she didn’t want to give voice to. I watched her for a minute, not sure if I should push her. What would I expect if I was talking to someone who was innocent? Would quick concern be normal or would it suggest guilt?

I counted to ten, then I asked.

“What’s going on? You seem worried about something?”

She hesitated a moment. “Is it possible that someone at your office could be doing something with your software that they shouldn’t be?”

“Like what?”

“Grant thinks that someone downloaded some of his files remotely.”

I was very careful with my expression, trying not to give anything away in the response I offered her. “Why would someone do that?”

“To get information on his clients. I’m sure you realize that Grant works with a lot of important people who could be harmed should their reasons for needing a lawyer become public.”

I nodded. “I know that. But no one at my firm would even think to do that. Besides, the software we install on our clients’ computers isn’t capable of that. Someone would have to install specific spyware to do that sort of thing.”

“Do you know how to do that?”

“Of course,” I said, unsure how to deny such a thing. I was a software engineer with an advanced degree. She knew that. She paid for some of it. There really was no point in denying it—to her of all people.

“Do you think you could figure out who did this to Grant’s computers?”

“I could probably trace it to an IPO address. After that—”

“Grant could probably find someone who could figure it out from there.”

I had no doubt. There were many things Grant was capable of, and that was kind of what had gotten us here in the first place.

Mom was ready to leave a few minutes later, but first she touched my arm and looked into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

I shrugged. Even though I knew the whole thing was a farce, I hated waking up every morning without Harley beside me. I’d gotten too used to the feel of her body pressed to mine.

“You don’t think that Harley…”

“What?”

“It’s just…she spent a lot of time in your office. And she knows a little about computers, doesn’t she?”

“I taught her a few things, but not enough to navigate spyware, let alone design it.”

“But if someone taught her…”

“What are you trying to ask, Mom?”

“It’s just…” She hesitated again, her eyes falling to the floor. “Grant thinks that someone not only downloaded files from his computer over the past year or so, but there also appears to be some paperwork missing from my desk, and Harley was there with you about the time it went missing.”

Harley hadn’t actually been there that day, but she was there the following day. And we’d made a big deal of leaving her alone in the office for a few minutes to plant a seed of doubt. My mom seemed to have grabbed on to that seed without much effort.

“Harley wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or Grant no matter what’s going on between she and I.”

Mom nodded, but I could see doubt still lingered in her eyes.

That was good. That was what we wanted.

“What is Grant up to that you’re so worried about?”

Mom just shrugged. “Grant works with a lot of important people, Xander. If there’s a leak in his office, it has repercussions, and everything runs downhill.”

I thought I saw real fear in her eyes then.

“You’re not worried that you—”

“I’m at the bottom of that hill. No matter what Grant might have said or done over the years, you know if something goes wrong, then I’m the first one he’ll expect to put her neck in the noose.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I kissed her cheek, wondering if that was all she was worried about, or if there was more to it. My mom and Grant had an odd relationship. They weren’t actually dating—not that I knew of—but Grant had been single for more than ten years, and their relationship dated back more than thirty years. They attended parties together, finished each other’s sentences, and went on vacations together. They spent more time together than most married couples. But they lived in separate homes and dated other people…it was confusing for me, and I was looking in from the outside. I can’t imagine what it was like for my mom.

“He wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Don’t put it past him.”

“Harley?”

I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom, but she wasn’t there. That meant she was down in the backyard. She loved to be outside as the sun was coming up. I pushed open the balcony doors and stepped out, but then I heard voices. I backed up, wanting to know what was going on before I intruded.

“You’re starting to remember?” a low voice I couldn’t quite identify asked.

“Some. Not everything,” Harley’s clear, soft tones replied.

“Do you know who was driving the car that hit you?”

Harley was quiet for a long minute. Whoever she was talking to became agitated. I could hear it in the person’s voice when whoever it was said, “Come on, Harley. We don’t play games with each other.”

“But it seems like we have been.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you do. How did you know to come here? Now? How long have you known about Philip?”

“Who’s Philip?”

“Or is it one of the Feds he’s working with? Who’s feeding you information?”

I expected to hear a denial. But I didn’t. There was only silence for a long moment. And then the sounds of movements, the crisp snap of leaves and dried out branches crushed under someone’s feet.

“This thing goes so much deeper than you could ever guess, Harley. You and Xander thought you could play games with this thing, but you were wrong. You just made things more complicated and more dangerous.”

“When we came to you, why didn’t you tells us you were one of them?”

The stranger cleared his or her throat.

“I’m not one of them. I’m not anything. I’m just trying to protect Xander.”

“That’s not all. How else did you know to come here now? I only spoke to Philip less than half an hour ago. He must have called you—or someone called you—within minutes of that call.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You do. You also know who was behind my accident.”

That got my attention more than anything else said so far. I knew that voice. Why couldn’t I place it? It was so distorted by distance and the person’s attempts to talk low, but I still knew it. And something told me if I could identify whom Harley was talking to, I would understand exactly what was going on here.

The next few words were garbled. And then silence.

I waited a few minutes. I went back into the bedroom and searched for some clothes, thinking I would walk down there all casual like and pretend I hadn’t heard a word. But, before I could even find my pants, Harley was walking into the room.

God, it was so wonderful to see her dressed in my shirt again! It’s funny the things you miss when someone walks out of your life.

“You’re awake.”

I walked over to her and pulled her gently into my arms, dropping a kiss on the top of her head.

“I’ve had to wake up alone quite enough these last six months.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Are you okay?”

She shrugged even as she snuggled tighter against my chest. “My memories are…it’s a little confusing. I’m not sure what’s completely real and what isn’t.”

“Let’s talk it out and see if we can figure it out together.”

She pressed her lips to my bare chest, letting them slide slowly over my sleep-warmed skin.

“I think I’d rather do a few other things first.”

“Like what?”

“Like this.”

She slowly dropped to her knees and my head began to spin.
God, how I’d missed her!
Her mouth was warm, her hands incredibly gentle. I closed my eyes and again thanked whoever was responsible that she was back, that my wife was finally mine again.

After a few minutes, I pulled her to her feet and lifted her to the bed, sliding inside of her the moment I could get her sweats out of the way. We moved together, slowly, gently, for a long time. Last night had taken the edge off, but there was still so much to make up for. I would have been perfectly happy to do this all day, to watch pleasure dance in her eyes and hear her whisper my name over and over again.

Was it possible to love someone so much that you couldn’t breathe when you looked at them?

I knew it was.