If Tomorrow Never Comes (Harper Falls Book 2) (22 page)

Rose nodded in agreement. "I've spent the past three days waffling between wishing I'd never found that lousy picture, and wanting to dig up Tyler's father so I could kill him."

"Nothing gruesome about that image," Dani shuddered. Though now that she thought about it, the idea was oddly appealing.

"Come on." She linked her arm with Rose's. "Let's go get this nasty thing done."

Tyler pulled open the rolling bay door before either of them could even reach to ring the bell.

"I love you both, but today is not the day to try and talk me down. If you aren't willing to let me rant and rail, turn around now because no one is a allowed to cross my threshold unless they plan on joining my righteous indignation."

Knowing Tyler couldn't have found out about the picture of her father and Regina Harper, Dani and Rose shrugged and followed their friend into her brightly lit studio. They knew some ranting was due, and it looked like it had started well before they got there.

Tyler might not have cared about how the world perceived the outside of her home. It didn't matter. The inside was different, however; she loved every worn, tarnished inch. The windows gleamed. She'd spent several days scrubbing and polishing the old leaded glass until they once again let the sun and all its glory fill every corner the space.

Tyler had torn out all remnants of the failed restaurant; in fact, she'd gutted the place. This was her sanctuary, her haven, where she could shut out the rest of the world, sometimes for days at a time, and create. She was an artist, her vision unique. She saw things in her own, uncompromising way, as she believed all artists should. In every corner of the large, open space were examples of her work. Some were done, ready for delivery to a client or gallery. Others were well on their way, some barely started. Tyler rarely worked on one project at a time. If she went stale on one sculpture, she would move to another. She worked in clay, granite, marble, wood. She used her hands, a blow torch, even a chainsaw. There wasn't right or wrong—it was art.

Today she was barefoot, dressed in baggy cotton pants and a loose t-shirt. Her dark hair hung loosely down her back, tousled and glossy. She wore no make-up; she almost never did, but Tyler still looked like she stepped off the pages of a fashion magazine. Her slender, long legged body, high cheek bones, wide gray eyes and full lips practically screamed supermodel. And the last man who had suggested she was wasting her God-given assets as an artist had been lucky to get away with just an earful of colorful language and a limp.

Tyler Jones was an artist, through and through. She was grateful for a strong body that let her work long hours without stopping. When the inspiration really hit her, food and sleep were pushed aside until she had no choice but to give in. Then she would grudgingly eat a hastily put together sandwich and fall, fully dressed onto the mattress that she resented needing because it took up a corner of her precious workspace. Five or six hours later, she would get up and start the process all over again. The only things keeping her from being a hermit were the need for an occasional male companion and her two best friends. The first she could have gotten around, but the latter? Well, she needed Dani and Rose as much as she needed art. They all fed her soul.

"Dare I ask what's set you off?" Dani asked, following Tyler across the room to the kitchen area. It consisted of just enough counter space to hold a coffee pot and a microwave oven. If she couldn't brew it or nuke it, Tyler didn't bother.

"How many cups have you had this morning?" Rose asked as Tyler filled her favorite oversized mug to the brim. When she got busy, she lived on caffeine and adrenaline. This morning she looked like she was about to overdose on both.

"How should I know," Tyler took a drink, grimaced then shrugged. "I ran out of new filters yesterday, but I've had worse."

"Oh, for land's sake." Rose grabbed the cup and threw the contents down the sink. "Where is that herbal tea I bought you?"

"I don't know, in the corner of some far cupboard. Did you just say
land's sake
?"

"Yes," Rose said, putting a cup of water in the microwave to heat up. "And I'll explain later. Now, tell us what happened."

"Regina Harper's what happened."

Tyler strode across the room to her desk.

"How could she know?" Rose asked in a whisper.

"She can't." Dani watched as Tyler snatched up a piece of paper before heading back to them. "It has to be something else."

"Look."

Dani took the paper, turning so Rose could see it. After a minute, Dani raised her head.

"This is from the Centennial Committee? They rejected your design submission for the commemorative statue."

"No," Tyler said, doing her best to restrain her temper. "They rejected all
five
of my design submissions. The first one that was done with
my
name and the four I did using different names, hoping one of them would get past
The Queen
for a fair evaluation."

Tyler wanted that commission. The statue would be on display in the town square, smack dab in the center of Harper Falls. Everyone would see it on a daily basis. She knew her work was good, sometimes it bordered on great. Her work would be an asset to the town.

This wasn't just about her ego, this would be her way of showing Harper Falls that they had been wrong to dismiss her, laugh at her desire to be an artist. Over the last few years, Tyler had developed a well-deserved reputation as an up and coming talent. She'd had exhibitions in New York and Los Angeles, and the critics had raved. But there was enough of the insecure little girl in her that she wanted show the people of her hometown just how far she had come.

"This says they've all been rejected. Why would they be lumped together when you submitted them separately?"

"I'll give you one guess."

"Regina Harper." Dani and Rose chorused.

"She's a witch. No one but the three of us knew about the aliases. Unless she had this place bugged, I can't figure out how she found out."

The three women exchanged looks.
Surely not.

"I'm having Jack send in the sweepers first thing tomorrow," Rose said it in a loud, clear voice. "If there
are
any listening devices his people will find them."

"And I'll return them to their owner, personally."

Tyler had hit a new level of mad, and though she couldn't blame her, Dani searched her brain for a way to smooth out the situation. The last thing they needed was for Tyler to end in jail. The problem was that even if they talked her down, what she and Rose had to tell her was bound to set her off again—with good reason.

"Look, why don't we get out of here. We'll stop by the diner, get three of those humongous club house sandwiches you love, and eat them down at the park. We could all use some fresh air."

"I'm all for the sandwiches," Tyler said, grabbing a bottle of booze from the counter. "But let's skip the park and go someplace we can drink this without any interruptions."

Following quickly behind, Dani sighed. Tyler wasn't thinking straight. It was up to her and Rose to make sure she didn't do anything stupid.

"I LOVE THIS place."

A little unsteady, Tyler swung the almost empty whiskey bottle like a helicopter, careful not to lose a drop of the precious liquid. She looked around the secluded cove. This was the west side of the river and about a half mile south of Harper House. If these rocks could talk, what tales they'd tell.

"I used get naked here, a lot—with Drew."

"We know." Dani giggled. For all her resolve not to drink, she'd somehow managed to get a little tipsy. Too many sips of alcohol, not enough sandwich. She looked over at Rose, stretched out on her back, making sand angels. Dani had questioned whether that was even a thing, but Rose had just flapped her arms and legs and declared that if it hadn't been, it was now.

They were all feeling good, the drama of the morning dulled to a manageable level. Unfortunately, Dani's brain was still clear enough to remember that she and Rose had been on a mission, one that they had yet to complete.

"Rose," she hissed.

"What?" Rose hissed back.

"The picture."

There was a pause. "Well, shit."

Dani grabbed her bag then reached over and pulled Rose to her feet.

"Can't we just burn the damn thing."

"You're language is getting worse, not better."

"I'm using the alcohol as a way to purge the bad words from my vocabulary. I'll use them all today—tomorrow they'll be gone."

Dani knew there was something wrong with that logic, but at the moment her brain could only focus on one thing.

"Come on, let's get this over with."

Tyler had found a rock to tell her troubles to. At the moment, the conversation was one-sided but intense.

"You see the problem is, it's too late to submit another design. Oh, I know what you're thinking, Regina would just nix that one too. But I might have found a way around the bitch, given time."

"Tyler?"

"Hmm?"

"We have something to show you." Dani and Rose sat, one on each side of her, ready to lend support.

"If it's bad news, do your worst. I'm just numb enough to take it and probably survive."

Dani and Rose glanced at each other and pushed on.

"A few days ago we were going through some old pictures, for my book. Rose found this."

Tyler took the picture, blinking to bring it into focus.

"Oh, hell no." Her words were faint, no burst of renewed anger. "How could he?"

"I'm so sorry," Dani pulled her close, Rose doing the same.

"I knew my dad slept around; he didn't make much of an effort to hide it. But Regina Harper?"

"Don't you want to yell? Throw something?" Rose looked around, hoping to find something, but the only things available were really heavy rocks.

"Nope," Tyler whispered, her voice as dry as her eyes. "I can't do it. I've cried too many tears over that man."

"Well, I'm not done." Dani took out her phone and hit speed dial, hoping she'd gotten the right button. Alex's voice gave her the answer.

"Dani, always a pleasure."

"Do you have a gun?"

"Well, hello to you too."

"No time for that. Do you, or do you not, have a working firearm?"

"
Maybe
," he answered cautiously. It certainly wasn't an everyday kind of question. "Have you been drinking?"

"
Maybe.
Is it traceable?"

"Of course it's traceable. Why would I have an illegal weapon?"

"You know," Dani slurred, "that is just the kind of question I would expect from a man who gives a woman multiple orgasms and then won't spend the night."

"Dani, what the hell are you talking about? You know what, never mind. Just tell me where you are."

"Nope, I need a gun, not a buzz kill."

"Wait. Dani. God damn it."

Alex looked at the dead phone, trying to grasp what had just happened. Whatever it was, he knew it couldn't be good. And he also knew that he needed help.

"Jack."

"Yo."

"I think we have a situation."

"HOW'S YOUR HEAD?"

Alex handed her two aspirins and a glass of water, waiting until she finished.

"Don't you think it's a bit childish, not speaking to me?"

"I'm speaking to you," Dani assured him. "And I don't have a headache. We didn't drink that much."

Alex just looked and waited.

"Fine, we did drink that much. But I feel fine, the alcohol is out of my system, and you can go home before I embarrass us both by inviting you to spend the night."

Now that
did
sound childish. But she resented the way Alex and Jack had showed up and hustled them back to town like they were errant school girls. Finding out that the men had run them down by using the tracking device Jack had installed in Rose's phone hadn't helped any. She could just imagine what had been said when
those two
were finally alone.

"Jack just wants to keep Rose safe," Alex said. "And no, I'm not reading your mind, what you were thinking is written all over your face."

"Well, don’t get any ideas about putting one of those in my phone." This time she was the one who could tell what he was thinking. "I mean it, Alex. It's an invasion of privacy. It's bad enough that a phone can be traced using satellite signals, but to find out your fiancé is tracking your every move? I hope Rose gives Jack a royal earful. It's just creepy."

"
Smart
," Alex corrected. "And he wouldn't have had to use it if you and your friends weren't calling around looking for deadly weapons."

"You, I called you, as in
one
person. And I wasn't serious." Or not entirely. "But we'd be doing the world a public service if we removed Regina Harper, permanently."

"Jesus, Dani. Say that to the wrong person and you could end up in jail."

There seemed to be a good argument there, but Dani was done. She felt the fight drain out of her. None of this was Alex's fault, he was just a convenient target. So she patted the seat next to her and when he was seated, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"I know it seems extreme, and I promise, it won't happen again." Sighing, she dropped her head onto his shoulder. "I should have gone with Tyler."

"Rose and Jack took her home. They won't leave her alone." Alex pulled her closer, glad to have her in his arms, safe. "I don't know what you were thinking."

"I wasn't. It was too much whiskey on an almost empty stomach. But hear me out and then tell me how you would have reacted, booze or no booze."

Alex listened, interested, then amazed, and finally appalled. If it hadn't been Dani telling him the story, he would have thought it had to have been made up, or at least highly embellished.

"Okay, maybe the gun wasn't an overreaction."

Dani laughed. It felt good to tell him everything. Alex had an outsider's perspective; he hadn't grown up with the Regina drama. She sometimes wondered if they had built her up into more of a monster than she really was—sort of a grown-up's version of the boogie man. How could anyone be that bad? Now that she'd recounted the events of the day and was able to see an impartial reaction, she knew it was true—the woman just plain evil to the bone.