“You can’t make him talk. Not here.”
“Again. You underestimate me.”
“I assure you,” Harper says. “I do not underestimate you. Ever. But I also know the current Isaac. You know the Isaac of the past. The one who threw fits and boiling water. The one I know is cold and calculating. He’s smarter than you think. Please remember that. Please operate with your brilliant mind, not with the emotions that he stirs in you and don’t say he doesn’t. You’re human, Eric. A savant, yes. The man I’m crazy about, yes. But also human. I need you to be the one who wins.”
Her worry for me is so damn hard to get used to. So damn sweet. So damn good. “Your points are well taken.”
“They are?” she asks.
“Yes, Harper, they are. And you’re right. I need to step back in every situation and use my mind, not my emotions, because I don’t know the Isaac of present and while I’d like to deny any emotional reaction to this family, hate is an emotion. And I do have hatred for this family.”
“With good reason, but that only makes this more volatile for you. It means that when you think you’re walking into a room with your brother, and perhaps your father on life support, thinking you’re in savant-mode but you’re in brother mode. Human mode. Family on Thanksgiving-need-a-drink mode.”
“Family on Thanksgiving, huh?”
“My father had a few crazy brothers who I loved, but they were as crazy as him.”
“Where are they now?”
“Died in a car accident the year before he did.”
“Holy fuck. You lost everything at once and I judged you for holding on. Damn, woman. I’ll make that up to you because you deserve it. Because you’re you. Because I love that you see me, all of me, and I promise to see all of you.” I stroke her lips. “Let’s get this over with.” I lace my fingers with hers and start to turn away, taking her with me, but she pulls me back.
“Just remember that leaving here without a major incident means we get to go home and be naked together.”
“Home?” I ask, that word running through me like a circus of emotions. I’ve never even called my own apartment home, yet with Harper, it’s home. She’s home.
“Home,” she says. “I want to be home with you.”
I lean in and kiss her. “And we will be soon.” I lead her forward and shut the door to find Savage standing a few feet away waiting on us. Thankfully, no one else is. We start walking and I don’t look back to find out what the hell is going to happen to the SUV. I trust Walker. They have things under control. I trust Savage. That bastard would cover my back if I needed him to, and it seems I might because Harper has given me a reason to fight. She’s given me a home to call my own and that’s not something I’ve known since that trailer with my mother. That’s not something I’m going to lose again. My fuckhead of a brother sure isn’t taking it from me.
We join Savage and he opens the hospital door. “Your brother is in your father’s room. Apparently, your father’s doing better now. Still in ICU, still unconscious, but expected to live.”
“How very disappointing for my brother,” I say.
“Be interesting to see what comes next,” Savage replies dryly.
“Agreed.” I urge Harper forward and we step into the hallway.
“Do you think this means the hitman will be back?” Harper whispers.
“I doubt he ever left,” I say, guiding her toward the elevator. “A man sent on a mission to kill doesn’t leave until the target is dead.”
“But there’s a problem for Isaac,” Savage says, as we stop at the elevator and he punches the button. “If he dies right after Isaac showed up, all eyes will be on Isaac.”
“It won’t matter if it’s another heart attack,” I say. “And maybe that’s the idea. Isaac stands right next to him while it happens. Kill in plain sight.”
Harper’s eyes meet mine. “And you’re going to let it happen?”
Having her even asking that question pisses me off. She knows what he did. She knows he kept my mother out of treatment. “Damn straight I am. He’s not mine to save, just like my mother wasn’t his to save. Are you going to tell me I should feel differently?”
She studies me a long, intense moment before she steps to me, pushes to her toes, and kisses me. “No. I’m not. I understand what you feel. You know I do. So stop directing the anger at me.”
I don’t care who is around. I don’t care what the fuck they think. I cup her face and tangle my fingers into her hair, dragging her mouth to mine. “I thought you could handle me?”
“I can.”
“We’ll see about that.” I cover her mouth with mine, licking past her lips, a long stroke that ends with my promise of, “Later. When we’re alone.”