“The home’s unlisted,” he said, “but Damien would have it.”
“Would he give it to us?”
“Sure, why not?” Tank swallowed the last of his food and grinned. “He might be a stuffy lawyer, but he’s still my brother.”
Leaning far enough forward to set his plate on the coffee table, he grabbed the cordless phone. After a short conversation during which Tank repeatedly said things like, “I just want to talk to her, okay?” and “What does it matter? She’s not your girlfriend anymore,” he handed Harley a number written on a gum wrapper.
“Thanks,” Harley said.
“What are friends for?”
Harley cocked an eyebrow at him. “For nearly getting one drowned in the river, if I remember—Hello?”
Lauren had answered.
“It’s me,” he said.
There was a long pause, then, “How did you get this number?”
“I’m familiar with some good, old-fashioned torture techniques. After a few minutes with me your friends and neighbors were more than willing to talk.”
“I can relate to the desperation they must’ve felt to escape from you. What do you want?”
“I want to talk, just like we were going to do last night.”
“Before you robbed a liquor store or whatever you did that got you arrested?”
Robbed a liquor store? This woman had a very vivid imagination. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t anything that dramatic.” He was tempted to explain just how undramatic it was, but his pride wouldn’t allow it. He wasn’t about to grovel at Lauren Worthington’s feet, hoping for her approval.
“I understand,” she said. “When something happens a lot it becomes common, everyday. The excitement factor goes down, is that it?”
He remembered saying something to her about the excitement factor in her life and realized she was throwing his words back at him, but he wasn’t in the mood to play games. “As far as I’m concerned, our business together is a completely unrelated issue.”
“I’m afraid I disagree. Your background and character are an important part of the issue, but then, I have a nine-year-old boy to consider.”
“You have my nine-year-old boy.”
Silence.
“Meet me,” he said, softening his voice in hopes that he could still gain her cooperation. Before he decided anything, he wanted to see Brandon, talk to him. Was that so much to ask?
“No.”
He held back a frustrated sigh. “Then I’ll come over there.”
“It won’t do you any good. You won’t be able to get in. We have security.”
“The kind of security I passed with a wave and a smile when I came to the house yesterday?”
“They’re more diligent at night,” she said. “They won’t let you through the gate this time.”
Especially after she called and told them not to. “Then I’ll hop the fence.”
“You’ll be arrested. Again. And this time they’d probably keep you. Stalking a woman is a lot more serious than an unpaid speeding ticket.”
So she’d been playing him. She already knew why he was arrested. “I thought I robbed a liquor store. I’m such a bad guy it’s hard to keep up with all my offenses, huh?”
“You’re probably working your way up.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard most armed robberies start with unpaid speeding tickets. It’s a definite sign of trouble.”
“I’ve already seen enough signs to know you’re trouble, Harley,” she said, but her voice didn’t hold the same bitterness it had when he’d spoken to her at the door. She’d also used his name for the first time. Somehow that encouraged him, made him feel as though she was finally starting to see him as a person instead of the devil incarnate.
“You don’t know anything about me,” he pointed out. “Not really. The only thing you have is your father’s word.”
“And my sister’s experience. Taken together, that’s a pretty strong argument.”
“Haven’t you ever fallen in love, Lauren?” he asked, dropping the sarcasm and defensiveness and stripping it down to a simple, sincere question.
She didn’t answer, and for a fleeting moment he found himself wishing she would. Hadn’t she ever fallen in love? Didn’t she know what it was like to feel so passionately about someone that you simply couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? That you wouldn’t—couldn’t—heed an outside threat to stay away because it was like being asked to stop breathing? If not, she’d never understand, and he’d be wasting his time if he tried to explain it to her. Love wasn’t something that made logical sense.
“Come on,” he said. “I’m only asking for a few minutes. How can you tell a man who’s never seen his son that you won’t even entertain the idea?”
“You should have thought about seeing Brandon ten years ago.”
“I did think about it, dammit.” He felt his irritation with Lauren grow and wished Tank wasn’t in the room. What, did Lauren think leaving Portland had been easy for him? That he’d been able to turn his back on his child without a second thought? He hadn’t had a serious relationship since Audra. Hadn’t even wanted one. It was as though that part of him, the capacity to love, had stayed behind. “I offered to marry Audra, but your father wouldn’t hear of it,” he admitted.
A slight pause. “You ran out on my sister. For money. I hardly call that a marriage proposal,” she said, now sounding tentative, wary.
“She wanted two things that couldn’t exist together—me and her father’s support. Your father put conditions on his support, and you know what she chose.”
“So you ran.”
She was still looking for easy answers, still wanting to place the blame neatly on his back and walk away—with his son.
“No, I asked her to leave with me. But she wouldn’t turn her back on Daddy and his wallet.” Harley shoved a hand through his hair. He hated dredging up the past, resurrecting old, better-forgotten feelings, but he’d known what this trip would cost before he came. If it was penitence and remorse Lauren wanted to hear, he had plenty of that to spare.
“Listen, she clung to safety and security, and I guess I can’t blame her,” he went on. “I had nothing to give her.” Except his heart, he added silently. But that hadn’t been nearly enough for the spoiled Audra.
“You’re lying,” Lauren said, but the pitch of her voice had changed and at last Harley sensed some uncertainty. “She loved you.”
After ten years, he’d begun to doubt that Audra’s feelings had ever rivaled his own. When Brandon was only a few weeks old, she’d dropped by his mother’s house, without the baby, and given Beverly the birth details. But then his mother’s lover had left her and she’d immediately packed up and moved to California to be close to Harley. And neither of them had heard from Audra since.
“She might have loved me a little, but she loved her lifestyle more,” he said.
Silence again.
“I know she’s gone now, and I’m sorry for that, Lauren,” he continued, “but if you could be big-minded enough to remember how she really was instead of seeing her as some kind of saint, I think you’d realize that I’m on the level.”
Nothing.