Terms of Surrender (11 page)

Tears welled in Gage’s eyes.

He couldn’t imagine ever allowing himself to love anyone that much, to hurt him that much. He watched his brother disappear down the darkness of the hallway, a lonely figure immersed in broken dreams and no future. Maybe once he slept off the alcohol, he’d be his old self again.

But as Gage turned back to face Harley, jealousy hit him like a wall of heated fury, sucking the air from his lungs. He gritted his teeth together and smoothed the anger from his voice. “Don’t let me keep you from giving him comfort.”

As she turned to face him, Harley wiped her wrist against her mouth. “What?”

He took a single step forward, stopped before he got close enough to reach for her, touch her. “I always wondered why you never married, but now I finally get it. Hannah snagged the man you loved, didn’t she? And now he’s free for the taking.”

The edges of her delectable mouth turned down with a hint of disgust. “You’re drunk, too.”

“I haven’t had a drop to drink in years.” And yet, like a fool, he wanted to erase the memory of Mike’s lips on hers, wanted to remind her exactly how she responded to his kiss—like the first of July fireworks. He forced himself to inhale and exhale. His heart beat a rapid tattoo in his chest and he found he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you? You’ve always been in love with him.”

“With Mike?” She blinked up at him, the sorrow on her face replaced by a totally unfathomable expression. “Maybe once. Not for a long time now.”

He took a step closer, arrested his movement. “You could learn to love him again.”

Her voice softened to a near whisper. “It’s too late for that.”

He realized they stood inches apart. The warm scent of her body filled his head and made him dizzy. He focused on her face, on the moist brightness of her gaze, the lush softness of her mouth. “He needs you, honey. The twins need you, too.”

She gave a small self-conscious laugh. “I couldn’t ever love Mike. I’m in love with someone else.”

Her words slammed into him and the pain in his chest returned. “Who?”

She shrugged her slim shoulders, her gaze bruised with sorrow. “It’s not important. He doesn’t know and I’ll never get a chance to tell him. He’s not the marrying kind.”

Pity enveloped him and he took a step closer. “Forget about him. The bastard is nuts if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

She met his gaze again. “Right. I suppose I need to find a man who could fall in love with me, a man who’s not scared to give me all those things.”

Mike fit the bill perfectly, and maybe with time and exposure, she might change her mind.

Deep down in his gut, he knew it was wrong.

He’d deliberately stayed out of her life, hoping for this very thing. And now that it was within her grasp—now that she’d finally found someone safe she could spend her life with—he felt an insane jealousy take hold.

Because, selfish bastard that he was, he wanted her for himself.

You’re just like your old man.

Worse.

He didn’t need to get skunk-faced drunk before he hurt the one he loved.

He growled in disgust. Love was an insane idea started by insane people. Love didn’t exist—couldn’t exist—not in his world. “Go to bed, Harl. It’s late.”

She spun on the balls of her feet, and without a backward glance, hurried down the hallway and disappeared into the bedroom.

Gage headed into the living room, halted when he caught sight of the doll on the chair. Instead of the nurse’s uniform, she was decked out in pajamas and a bathrobe.

The edges of his mouth curved upward. Cynical humor washed through him. At least his companion for the night couldn’t talk back.

As the heat of the night closed in around him, he reached over his head, grabbed the back of his shirt and tugged it off. He threw himself onto the couch and waited.

Arms crossed behind his head, eyelids heavy with sleep, Gage stared into the darkness. And as the sun rose over the horizon, he listened for the rustle of Harley’s footsteps traipsing from her bedroom into the room where Mike slept.

They never came.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next morning, Harley eased out of bed without waking the girls, crept out of the room, and headed down the hallway. As much as it appealed to her, she knew she couldn’t hide all day. Eventually the twins would waken and ensure the rest of the household heard them. Mike would rise, and she’d be forced to face both him and Gage.

She tiptoed to the edge of the drape-darkened living room and stopped when she saw Gage fast asleep on the couch, one arm thrown across his eyes, the other resting on his bare chest. A beam of sunlight shot through a tiny opening in the drapes, glinting off the darkness of his hair, turning his skin to golden bronze.

He looked like a warrior from long ago, caught resting by the fire in the hearth. A faint snore escaped his parted lips. He stirred and rolled onto his side.

Even in sleep, he didn’t completely relax. His muscles were firm, his body tense and at the ready, as though mentally prepared for an unexpected attack.

Harley caught her breath and wondered if that’s how he slept every night.

And if so, why?

As she dragged her gaze away from him, she noted that he’d had his own fun with the blowup doll. He’d tilted her back in the recliner, thrown a blanket over her body, and put the remote control unit in her hand.

It made Harley smile because despite his anger the previous evening, he’d retained his sense of humor.

Limbs heavy with fatigue, she turned into the kitchen and pulled out the can of coffee grounds, determined to forget the events from last night. She’d pretend Mike hadn’t kissed her and Gage hadn’t tried to pawn her off on his brother.

A footstep scuffed against the kitchen floor. Tense, Harley turned to find her bleary-eyed brother-in-law standing in the doorway. Around a yawn, he mumbled, “Mornin’.”

Lately, she’d gotten this gut-sick feeling that she’d never really known her brother-in-law except through Hannah’s eyes.

Rumpled and unkempt, the fun loving, gentle man her sister had married no longer seemed to exist. And even across the distance separating them, he smelled like a brewery.

She wrinkled her nose, forced herself to be polite. “I didn’t expect you up this early.”

He had that funny look in his eyes again, the one that made her uncomfortable because he was actually staring right at her.

“Still talking to me, huh? Guess that means I don’t have anything to apologize for. Last night is kind of fuzzy.” As Mike approached, Harley shifted back, her escape route cut off by the cupboard behind and the man crowding her space. He placed a hand on the counter on either side of her, effectively preventing her escape. “I remember now. We kissed last night.”

Harley placed her palms on his shoulders and pushed. “No.
We
didn’t kiss.
You
kissed
me
. I wasn’t exactly a willing participant.”

He held his ground. “That’s not how I remember it.”

“Well, you remember wrong.” Maybe if she constantly reminded him of his wife, he might remember she wasn’t Hannah. “Mike, every time you look at me, you see my sister.”

She couldn’t blame him for reacting to her like this—sometimes with hostility, sometimes with a barely concealed desire that frightened her more than the hostility did. All she had to do was see her own reflection in the mirror and she experienced the same urge to turn away from the image staring back.

Mike shifted closer, his foul breath brushing the side of her face. “Losing Hannah was hard enough. Yesterday I realized that if I lost you, too, I don’t know what I would do.”

From behind him came the pad of bare feet. Over Mike’s shoulder, she saw Gage stop in the doorway, bare chested, sleep tousled, wearing only the jeans he’d worn last night.

“Morning.” He drawled the single word, his eyes heavy with sleep, his watchful gaze void of all expression. “Am I interrupting?”

Annoyance flashed in Mike’s eyes before he stepped back from her. His cheeks flushed, his eyes downcast, he moved to the table with jerky movements. “We were talking.”

Harley tried to control the erratic beat of her heart. As Gage leaned against the doorjamb, he ran his fingers through his hair and crossed his arms over his chest.

His biceps bulged and flexed, arresting her attention, reminding her of the strength of him holding her securely through the night. But after last night, he wouldn’t ever offer to hold her again. God, he’d been so determined to pawn her off on his brother.

Across the room, his eyes seemed darker this morning, intense, somber, regretful. He pushed away from the doorjamb, strolled into the kitchen, and headed toward the coffeepot.

As he grabbed the pot and filled it with water from the tap, his gaze flicked her way. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

Harley nodded and turned toward the sink, lowering her voice to prevent Mike from hearing. “He’s being weird again today.”

Without missing a beat, he poured water into the coffee unit and raised his voice. “How’re you feeling this morning, bro?”

“Like I’ve been kicked in the head by a bull.” Mike plunked onto a chair at the table, appearing twitchy and angry and wound tight enough to implode. “You got something you can add to the coffee? I have the giant of all hangovers this morning.”

Gage spooned a liberal amount of grounds into the filter and pushed the ON button before he turned and leaned back against the counter top, arms folded across his chest. “It’s too early to start drinking.”

“It’s never too early.”

Silence fell between them, the kind of silence reserved for strangers, or for people who were done communicating.

There was no more room in her life for heartache. What she needed was a distraction, and the man sitting with his elbows on the table and his hands over his face looked like the perfect one.

Harley pulled cups from the cupboard and tried to keep the tone of her voice even. “Mike, is everything okay at home?”

“Peachy.” Mike’s voice rang with sarcasm. He dropped his hands from his face and bitterness twisted his expression. “My wife is dead and I’m stuck with two little brats.”

As if on cue, girlish screams came from down the hallway. With a curse, Mike lurched out of the chair and headed for the noise. Harley rushed after him, grabbed him by the arm, and inserted herself between him and the doorway. “I’ll take care of them. You go ahead and enjoy your coffee.”

“Tell them to keep it down, will you? I have the mother of all hangovers.” He shot a glare toward Gage. “And since my brother doesn’t keep a drop of liquor in the house, it seems I’m destined to put up with this pounding headache until I get home.”

“I will. I promise.” She barely stepped into the hallway and the two girls came flying through the bedroom door. They threw themselves at her, screaming to outdo each other. Harley covered their mouths with her hands and shook her head. “Hush, girls. Your daddy’s not well this morning.”

Smiles fading, they peered around her.

Lisa leaned into her, lowered her voice, and imitated the drawl in her daddy’s voice. “Git the hell out of my way or git kicked in the butt.”

Harley sat back on her haunches, wary. “Has Daddy ever kicked you?”

Laura shook her head and in a meek whisper said, “I’m hungry.”

“Me, too,” Lisa whispered.

“Come on. Let’s see if Uncle Gage has something for you to eat.”

Harley ushered the twins into the kitchen and pointed toward the empty chairs at the table. As she turned to ask Gage about breakfast, he came to stand beside her, a spatula in his hand.

“How about if I whip up a batch of my famous pancakes and syrup.”

Two screams ripped through the room.
“Yes.”

“Thanks, man,” Mike yelled over the noise. “Wind them up and send them home with me. Perfect, fucking perfect.”

Puzzled, Gage glanced at Harley.

“Sugar makes them hyper,” she explained as she headed around the table, placed one hand on each girl’s shoulder, and firmly urged them back on their chairs. Her gaze darted toward her brother-in-law.

Was he actually capable of hurting the girls? She’d never seen signs of abuse, but now that Hannah was gone, things were different…he was different.

“How about if we save the pancakes for a special occasion, and have cheese omelets and toast today,” Gage said into the resulting quietness.

“Perfect.” Harley returned to the kitchen area, pushed up her sleeves, and rubbed her hands together. “What can I do to help?”

Gage poked his head into the fridge and reappeared with a basket of eggs in one hand, cheese slices in the other. “You’re on toast detail.”

As Harley set to work, she realized there was something different about Gage this morning, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. He was calm, cheerful, and the darkness from last night was gone.

Another screech came from behind, and Harley turned around in time to see Lisa pulling Laura’s hair and Mike raising his hand.

“Stop
,” she yelled. Mike froze, hand in mid-air. As he lowered his arm and dropped back onto the chair, he sent the girls a glare that kept them frozen to their place at the table. Had he meant to swat Lisa? Or simply stop the fight? God, what was she supposed to do? Desperately, she tugged on the waistband of Gage’s jeans. “Do you have crayons in the house? Maybe a coloring book?”

He sent her a look that suggested she was insane to even think that. “I don’t entertain children. Never have. Never will.”

The girls squirmed and wiggled and exchanged impatient glances that warned her more trouble was brewing. She grabbed the newspaper from Gage’s side of the table and thrust a pen into each girl’s hand. “Here. Draw a picture of your daddy.”

The excitement in their eyes faded. The girls bent their heads and, pens scratching on the paper, proceeded to draw. Within a few minutes, the sour expression on her brother-in-law’s face began to appear on the paper.

She might as well have asked them to draw a murder scene.

Hers.

Because any minute now, Harley expected Mike to go ballistic.