Something About Harry(88)

“Yep. At least he said he was Jeff. Anyway, the cops called Keegan to let him know that according to Jeff, he’s safe and sound. Gave them some bullshit story about a bender in Vegas. Sounded too goddamn Hangover-ish to me, but the cops fell for it.”

Harry shook his head. “Jeff wasn’t a Vegas kind of guy. A tech convention in Vegas, maybe. But a weeklong drinking spree? Not a Jeff thing.”

Nina nodded. “I said the same damn thing to Keegan, nerd. I don’t know shit about Jeff. I do know it’s fucking convenient, and I don’t give a shit if his story checked out with some hotel on the strip. My spidey senses tell me someone made him call in. Like by force. The same someone who took my Carl and the kids. His story ain’t sittin’ right with me. So today, while you two make googly eyes at each other, I’m goin’ back to Jeff’s and seeing what I can sniff out. I’m also callin’ that hotel in Vegas. If I have to, I’ll fly on over there and knock some heads together. Somebody has to save the nerds of the world.”

Mara’s hands shook. If what Nina said was true, and someone had Jeff, they had him because he’d been in the lab that night. The same person who’d anonymously called Keegan. But why? God, she was tired of asking why. “I don’t understand why someone would want to harm Jeff? Just to use his phone and keep him from telling Harry about it?”

“Maybe this person thought Jeff knew about the serum? You sure you never let a word about that crazy shit slip, Short-Shot?”

Oh, there was no doubt in her mind. “Absolutely sure. All my notes were in my head. I have a photographic memory. So as I wrote them down—on paper, not an electronic device—I memorized them, and burned the notes afterward. Also something to note, I didn’t do it because I thought enough to worry about someone getting their hands on the serum and wreaking havoc. I did it because I didn’t want anyone to know pathetic Mara couldn’t find a mate to create a family with.”

Harry pulled her hand into his. “It isn’t pathetic to want to find the right person to mate . . . spend your life with. I’m damn tired of hearing you say that. You might not have seen how many men were interested in you, but everyone else damn well did. You were just being discriminatory. There’s a difference. So knock it off.”

Carl groaned from the other room, prompting Nina to snap her fingers. “You two heathens get dressed, and we’ll figure out where the fuck to go from here. I call we go back to Jeff’s and poke around some more. If he’s in Vegas, I’m America’s Next Top Model.” She stomped off to tend to Carl while Mara huddled into the throw.

“How’d you sleep?” he whispered into the top of her head, the scent of his sweater comforting against her nose.

Mara closed her eyes and savored Harry, his arms, the beat of his heart, for one more brief moment. “Well, I know I did a good job refinishing the floors. They’re as hard as floors should be,” she teased.

Harry reached around her to find his jeans, dropping hers in her lap. “They’re definitely hard. What say we do this on your bed next time?”

Slipping her jeans on and recovering her sweater, she let her eyes fall to the bottom of the couch and gulped. There would be no tomorrow. But Harry didn’t know that. “Bed it is.”

Harry rose, holding his hand out to her. He smiled down, warm and sweet, his teeth perfect and white. “If we can do, you know, that again, I’ll even put all those frilly pillows back on the bed afterward.”

Mara took the offer of his hand, allowing him to sweep her upward in his embrace. She laughed, forcing herself to ignore the numbers on her microwave’s clock and focus on the visual of Harry, his clumsy fingers trying to arrange her pillows the way she liked them. “I think it’s only fair. I put out. You pick up,” she teased, squeezing him one last time, refusing to linger too long in his embrace, before making her way to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

But Harry grabbed her hand and took the lead. “I’ll make coffee. You grab a shower first. I’d join you, but you know, Carl. Impressionable zombie and all . . .” he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows, his husky voice full of suggestion.

As the microwave’s clock struck one, she realized this Harry, the one not overcome with testosterone, was sweet and accommodating; this Harry was considerate.

But she didn’t have time for a shower, and she wouldn’t be able to help Nina scope out Jeff’s house.

When the doorbell rang, Nina whooshed by in a blurry vision of arms and legs, her eyes bright and aware, her words protective. “I got this. You two stay put. Harry? Just in case this isn’t the motherfucker kidnapping people right out from under our noses, brush your hair. You look like you used a hand blender on it.”