“Do you also have a safe house somewhere around here with that garage you mentioned?”
“No.” My mind spins as I try to work through the variables. “But we could go to a hotel.”
“Too visible,” Harper says. “Same with a public garage. Where else can we ditch the car?”
“We could park it at a mall and take a taxi back to Dallas,” I offer.
“And risk more witnesses? These MC guys are ruthless. Oh shit!” Harper says, ducking again. “Down, Bruiser.”
“Swear jar,” comes his small voice.
“What?” I don’t hear sirens again, and my eyes search the road. I don’t see anything except for?—
Except for four tricked-out motorcycles riding down the road, throttle roaring as they pick up speed and zoom by.
“Is Dad okay?” Bruiser asks in a small voice.
“He’s fine,” Harper says, voice short.
There’s a tense silence for a moment, and then, the kid’s voice even more wobbly, “I don’t feel so good.”
And then a soft retching noise.
Pretty sure he just threw up in the footwell of the back seat. Poor kid. He’s gotta be traumatized by seeing his fuckingdadpull a gun on his mom.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay. That’s okay,” Harper says in this soothing mom voice.
And I think that’s when it really hits me. Holy shit. Harper’s amom. She’s had a whole-asshumanshe’s been raising all this time. I mean, I knew it from the pictures, but it wasn’t real before now.
“New plan,” I say. I reach for my phone docked in my dash and hand it back to Harper. “Find the closest Airbnb, filter by ones with garages.”
TWENTY
CALEB
“He’s settled in,”Harper says, coming out into the living room of the cozy four-bedroom Airbnb later that evening.
We ordered dinner in and watched cartoons. Harper and her son snuggled on the couch, his arm wrapped around her like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let her go. I understand the sentiment.
It’s so weird watching her be a mom, but also the most natural thing in the world. She was so rebellious when I first met her, so punk rock. I mean, she’s still punk rock. Her tattoos alone attest to the fact. Not to mention her effortless style and ever-present combat boots.
It’s clear that what always made HarperHarperhas never changed.
Namely, her heart of gold.
She’s always loved every lost cause she’s ever met. Even me.
But I fucking hate that Zused her squishy heart to take advantage of her. It’s taken a lot of discipline to keep my fury contained as she napped with her arms around her son while hezoned out to cartoons all evening. I’m sure he was just desperate for something normal and familiar, safe in his mom’s comforting arms.
I remember how even the scariest things in the world never seemedthatscary as long as your mom was there at your side.
Which makes me really, really sorry that Harper only shot Z in the ass.
Especially since earlier, when she went to the bathroom only after making sure Bruiser was okay being left alone in the room with me, he looked at me with those giant, kid eyes of his, and solemnly asked if I knew his dad.
“A little,” I said evasively.
“Is he a bad guy?”