Undercover Passion. Melinda Di Lorenzo
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But not many. Harley was quick to remind her that she didn’t have time to give in to the strong emotion.
“We need to move,” he said. “If whatever that bang was started a fire, we only have minutes to get out.”
“Right. Okay.”
She gave her daughter a squeeze, then let her go, and braced herself for the pain of standing up. Sure enough, the fire bit into her thigh. But she refused to give in. She held her leg stiffly and raised her eyes to meet Harley’s gaze.
“What’re we waiting for?”
His stare dropped down. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“You sure?”
“Yes. It’s just a cut.”
“So prove it.”
“What?”
“Prove you’re fine. Walk from there to here.”
“I—” She bit her lip.
“That’s what I thought,” he said.
He stepped forward, and she prepared for him to offer an arm. She bit her lip and pushed her pride aside. She’d lean on Harley—literally—if that meant getting her daughter to safety. She turned her face toward him to admit she’d need assistance. But she didn’t have to say it. Harley was already at her side, already bending down to scoop her up from the ground like she weighed nothing. It felt embarrassingly good to be cradled against his broad chest.
“You don’t have to carry me,” Liz protested, wiggling a little.
“I don’t have to,” Harley agreed. “But in the interest of expediency...”
“What’s expediency?” Teegan piped up.
“Getting somewhere faster than a snail can,” Harley replied easily.
“I think you should let him carry you, Mom,” Teegan said.
“Two against one,” he added.
“All right,” he said, directing his words down to Teegan in a far more enthusiastic tone than Liz would’ve been able to manage. “Our mission is to get out. It might not be easy, but I have faith we can do it. What about you?”
Teegan nodded. “Me, too.”
“Okay. You have to carry the bag, take the rear flank and protect us from back there. Oh. And hold on to the bottom of my shirt so you don’t get left behind,” Harley instructed.
“Got it!” Liz’s daughter agreed, her small hand coming out to clutch tightly to the dark-haired man’s clay-covered T-shirt.
But they only made it as far as opening the door a crack.
Acrid smoke was creeping up from the bottom of the stairs, blocking the escape route.
Harley stepped back into the apartment quickly, Teegan still clutching his shirt and Liz still held firmly against his chest.
He silently cursed the fact that he’d let his guard down long enough to not predict that something was about to happen. He’d known something was wrong. He was sure it had something to do with both the hooded man and Jesse Garibaldi. It was the whole reason he’d been so eager to stay for dinner. Yet he hadn’t pursued it. Hadn’t pushed Liz to tell him what she knew, when he knew perfectly well that was exactly what he should’ve done.
But you had time to kiss her.
He growled silently at himself for his weakness.
Even now, as he carried Liz up the hall and toward the kitchen, her ample curves fit against him in the most distracting way possible. That hint of floral perfume swirled up and filled his nose, making him want to draw in a deep breath after deep breath. The way he held her meant the soft skin on the inside of her arm stayed pressed firmly to the back of his hand.
It was both a relief and a regret to set her down.
It made him irritated at himself. Not because it took away from his ability to do his job—though maybe that should’ve been more of a factor than it was—but because it hampered him in keeping Teegan and Liz safe. He’d let down his guard, and now they were in danger.
They were just lucky that whoever set off the explosion hadn’t come upstairs first.
Or maybe luck has nothing to do with it. Maybe the culprits just didn’t care what happened after.
After all, he knew from experience that Garibaldi had a thing for using pipe bombs to cover his tracks. It was what had started this whole quest for justice to start out with. What killed his father.
“Harley?”
Liz’s small, worried voice drew him back to the moment and reminded him that he didn’t have time for heavy musings.
“What do we do?” she asked.
“We come up with a plan B,” he said. “Find another way out.”
Five minutes had gone by already. Any second, the fire could make its way up. It was a little surprising that heat and smoke hadn’t already permeated the apartment, really.
He needed to think. Fast.
Teegan tugged on his shirt, and he turned his attention her way, trying his damnedest to stay patient. The kid had a solemn expression on her face, and her finger extended toward the hall.
“What’s up, monkey?” Harley asked.
Her little blond head swiveled toward her mom, then back to Harley. “Promise not to get mad?”
“I won’t get mad,” he assured her.
“Not you,” said Teegan. “Mom.”
Harley flicked a raised-brow look toward Liz, who shook her head.
“I won’t get mad,” she said. “But just be warned that the last time she asked for that promise, she’d cut all of her socks into dresses for her dolls.”
“We’ll take our chances.” Harley smiled at Teegan. “Tell us.”
“You know the big tree outside?” the kid replied, still nervous. “The one I climb all the time?”
“Sure do,” said Harley. “Heritage oak.”
Teegan’s confession came out in a rush. “It has a big branch that goes all the way to my mom’s window. And I climbed up. And there’s a flower-thing under the window. But I stood on the flower-thing, and I could see into the window, so I think you could get out that way, too.” She paused. “Are you mad?”
“Not right now,” Liz said. “But I can’t promise I won’t be grounding you later. Do not climb up that high. Ever again.”
“Ever again after we’ve climbed down today,” Harley amended. “Show us.”
“Okay.”
Helping Liz up and supporting her as they moved, Harley followed the girl down the hall to the bedroom. Once inside, he helped Liz to the edge of the bed, then stepped over to examine the potential escape route. Teegan stood close beside him, pointing at the places she’d described just a few moments earlier.
Harley nodded his appreciation. He could see the potential. It might not be the easiest thing for Liz with her injury, but it beat the alternative of fighting through smoke and flames.
He reached out, unlatched the lock on the window, carefully removed the screen and surveyed what he could see of the outside. The thick branches blocked a large portion of the view, but a glance down and to the side made him frown. He could just see the back end of what appeared to be a white panel van. If he had to guess, he’d say it was just about lined up perfectly with the rear door of Liz’s Lovely Things.