Terms of Surrender (27 page)

Laura stepped forward, hands clasped behind her back, one toe grinding into the carpet. “We’re sorry we made your daddy’s heart mad, Unca Gage.”

“It was my fault,” Lisa interjected. “I broke the flowers.”

Laura risked closing the distance between them, crooked her index finger up at his tall imposing frame, and Gage hunkered down to her level, a big man with a gentle personality.

“You can’t feed Lisa so much sugar, Unca Gage. We all make mi’takes, right? You’ll forgive her, won’t you?”

“You bet I will.” He motioned Lisa forward. “Come here, sugarplum.”

Lisa skipped across the room and threw her arms around Gage’s neck and held on tight. He closed one arm around her waist while he drew Laura into a similar embrace with his other arm.

Lisa squeezed her tiny arms around his neck. “I’s sorry, Unca Gage.”

He fixed his attention on the younger twin. “It looks like a tornado hit my back yard. What happened?”

Laura jumped in to protect her sister. “My fault, Unca Gage.”

Shifting his arm from around her back, he ruffled her hair. “It’s okay, sugarplum. I’ve got this one covered.”

He refocused on the younger twin. “Why would you destroy the flowers? Your grandpa put a lot of hard work into making them beautiful.”

She wiggled onto one of his legs and cuddled against his chest, her voice soft and timid and sorrowful. “I like to ’quish the dirt between my toes. Are you gonna ’pank me now, like mean old Grandpa says?”

“Maybe I should.”

Laura grabbed his chin and turned his face—and his attention—her way. She said one word. “Pancakes.”

Harley saw something in his expression shift and grow lighter, and the fear drained from her body.

If you ever want a family with my son, you’ll keep this incident and your suspicions to yourself.

Frances had been wrong.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

It hit Gage that he was as much at fault as was Lisa.

More so.

After all, he was the adult. He’d known better than to feed the twins all that sugar. And yet, he’d done so anyway and screwed up big time.

He kept his focus on the twins, simply because they were easier to face than the woman he loved.

Loved
.

It made him want to laugh at the hopelessness of his situation, but he was afraid he’d end up crying instead.

He kissed Laura on the forehead. “Pancakes. You’re right. No more pancakes with endless syrup.”

“Kiss me, too,” Lisa demanded, and as he bussed her on the forehead, she whispered in his ear, “I don’t like the bad grandpa.”

His heart squeezed painfully, but he kept his voice light. “Can’t say I blame you, sugarplum. Don’t much like him myself.”

Laura wrapped her arms around his neck. “Aunt Harley p’tected us. She was brave, like you.”

He shifted his gaze across the room.

To the long legs that only last night had been wrapped around his waist while he made sweet love with her in the shower.

Up to her beautiful face, which was filled with compassion and understanding. “Your aunt’s a real gem.”

The memory of waking with her in his arms filled him with a longing so intense, he didn’t know how he was going to face her again without going all caveman on her.

And when she someday fell in love and married—

Tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away, returned his attention to the twins, and slowly straightened, allowing the girls to slide off his legs and land firmly feet first on the floor.

“We luv you, Unca Gage,” Laura whispered and beside her, Lisa nodded and said, “I luv you, too.”

Taken off guard, he froze.

Across the room, Harley came forward, crouched down between the girls, and put her arms around their shoulders.

And what he saw in her clear honest gaze made him wish he could take back the feel of her in his arms, the love that both shredded his heart and made him whole.

She shrugged a slim shoulder and gave him an apologetic smile. “I guess it’s unanimous, Gage, because I love you, too.”

Panic infused his body and he backed up a step, raked a hand through his hair.

She was so tiny and fragile, helpless against a man his size.

And if she thought he could keep her safe—keep the twins safe—she was as foolish as his mom.

Clearing the thickness from his throat, he said, “Don’t look at me like that.”

Confusion clouded her soft mocha eyes. “Like what?”

“With trust.”

Her words branded his heart forever. “With love comes trust.”

Family. Future. Forever.

It was all within his grasp, and the temptation to take what he wanted and ignore the consequences nearly made him cave.

He took another step back and saw the loving glow dim in her eyes. She shifted to her feet, one hand on each girl’s head as though holding them back.

There was only one way to keep her safe.

By returning to the real world, that’s how.

By hiding his head—and his heart—in the sand.

By ignoring his own needs and wants.

Who had he been kidding? They may be two consenting adults, but Harley deserved more. She deserved Prince Charming and Galahad.

She deserved the fairy tale, not the nightmare.

He closed his eyes against the love shining in hers, and the memory of her naked body pressed against his threatened to chase away the chill in his heart.

All he needed was a little time to regain control and then he could face her again. Tell her he’d made a mistake in bringing them to stay with him.

From somewhere deep inside, he found the strength he needed.

He forced his eyes open, plowed his fingers through his hair, regret gut-punching him as he backed up another step, and hooked his thumb over his shoulder. “I need to pick up Mom.”

He barely got the words out before his throat closed up and he gave in to the urge to run.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Within days of Gage’s mom moving into the house, Harley knew it was over.

Not because of the older woman.

Frances was lovely, doting on the girls, helpful with meals and bath times and bed times.

But Gage was absent.

Sure, he’d show up for breakfast and tease the girls, making their eyes light up for the man they loved. Afterward, he’d vanish and stay away until everyone was in bed.

And even though Harley stayed awake each night, listening for the sound of his return, praying that he would miss her enough to join her in his bed, he didn’t.

Instead, he slept on the couch.

And now she was beginning to feel like an intruder, unwanted, in the way.

Everywhere she turned, she was reminded of those few precious days in his arms. His laughter. His scent. The way he dealt with the twins.

But her broken heart wasn’t any reason to put the girls at risk, and until the issue with Mike was resolved, she was stuck here.

By early evening, with the exhausted girls in bed and Frances reading them a bedtime story, Harley straightened up the living room and tried to hold her depression at bay.

She remembered his words from a few days ago. He thought he was a monster, unsuitable for a relationship. What could she do to convince him otherwise?

The back door creaked open and clicked shut. She straightened, toys and books in her arms, surprised that he was home this early, hoping and praying that he might have finally come to his senses and realized that he was worth loving.

And so was she.

She set the items in her arms down on the coffee table and walked toward the kitchen. As she stepped into the room, a shadow caught her eye, and the familiar scent of alcohol forewarned her of danger.

But it was too late to retreat.

Mike grabbed her around the waist, hauled her up against his body, and pressed a knife to her throat. “Where are they?”

Everything inside of her froze. No way was her son-of-a-bitch brother-in-law getting past her to Laura and Lisa. She’d protect them with her fists, her feet, her teeth.

Her very life.

She forced herself to remain calm, to speak softly so Frances and the girls wouldn’t hear. “Mike, let me go. We can talk this through.”

From deep in his throat, she heard him snarl. “I want my girls.”

“If you take them like this, you’ll make things worse.”

He laughed harshly in her ear, and the scent of alcohol nearly choked her. “How can they be worse? My wife is dead. You’ve taken away my only other reason to live.”

Heart thundering in her ears, she reached deep for bravery. “Please, Mike. Hannah wouldn’t want you to act like this.”

“
Hannah.
” As the name was torn from his throat on a sob, the knife dug deeper. “It should have been you that died. Not my beautiful wife.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Down at the station, Gage sat at his desk and stared at the image on his iPhone.

It was the picture he’d taken the day they’d brought the pool home for the girls. Laura was in the act of pouring a pail of water over her sister’s head, while Lisa was simultaneously doing one of her mouth-wide-open laughs and choking on the gush of water filling her mouth.

And Harley in her sexy bikini, her feet in the pool to keep her cool, laughed along with the girls.

How had they taken over his house, his life, his heart, in such a short time?

Adam passed by, stopped to peer at the photo, then headed around to the desk on the other side and sat down. “Cute picture. Makes a guy wish it was his family, doesn’t it?”

Gage set the phone on the desk and wiped a hand across his eyes, surprised to find moisture there. Self-conscious, he ducked his head, and peered around the room.

No one was paying him a bit of attention.

And maybe that was odd in itself, because it seemed like every time he came down to the station, somebody got a dig in about riding his Harley.

A pang of self-pity washed through him.

It was over. He’d never make love with Harley again. Never wake up to her morning smile. Never hold her in his arms.

He shifted on the chair, determined to be done with his pity party, and focused on his partner. “How’s Robyn doing?”

Adam glanced down at the cell in his hand. “The doc says if the baby doesn’t come by the end of next week, she’ll induce the stubborn kid.” There was a moment of silence, then Adam continued quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her and the baby. I don’t know how Mike makes it through the day.”

The screen on Gage’s cell went black and he tapped it, brought up the picture again, and felt his heart ache.

“With a bottle of booze in his hand.” He lifted his gaze to his partner’s face, saw the love for his wife and unborn child shining in his eyes. “You’re different. You’re stronger than Mike. Stronger than me.” Gage blinked away the moisture in his eyes and gave a rough laugh. “Nothing will happen to Robyn or the baby. By this time next week, you’ll be dragging your butt in here, whining like a little girl about night time feedings, and lack of sleep and sex.”

Adam’s cell vibrated against the desk. He grabbed it, glanced at the screen, then shot to his feet. “Fuck. Her water just broke.”

Gage grabbed his phone and followed his partner up. “I’ll drive. Otherwise you’re bound to forget to pick up your wife.”

“No, I’m good. As soon as the baby’s here, I’ll let you know.” As he raced from the room, he shouted over his shoulder, “Go home, Toryn. Do whatever you need to do, but don’t let Harley go. If you do, you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable existence.”

Gage tapped the cell phone screen again, stared at the photo, and knew without a doubt in his mind that he loved them…all of them.

He tucked the cell into his pocket and headed for the door, never more scared and more uncertain than he was right now.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

By the time Gage turned the motorbike onto his street, he knew the girls would be asleep and he didn’t want to wake them up. So he cut the engine, and coasted the bike down the street and onto his driveway. As he passed by the unmarked cop car, he waved.

Swinging one leg over the seat, he stopped long enough to shed his gloves and helmet before he headed toward the back door.

The neighborhood was quiet, one of those mid-summer lulls when it was too hot outside to mow lawn or go for a walk. People were indoors hiding from the heat.

Footsteps quiet, he bounded up the stairs and across the patio with barely a creak of the wood to give his arrival away. He pulled open the screen door, stepped into the porch, and froze.

The woman he loved, the woman he’d tried to cut out of his life in order to keep her safe from harm, stood in the middle of the kitchen with his brother holding a knife to her throat.

His first reaction was to launch himself forward and take down his asshole brother. In the split second he used to evaluate the situation—the drop of blood on her throat, her hands on Mike’s forearms as though she was about to use one of her self-defense moves to try to take him down, the sheen of sweat on his brother’s face, the stench of alcohol permeating the small area—he raised his hands and clasped them behind his head.

Think quickly. Reason clearly. Maintain discipline.

Right now, the urge to shove Harley out of danger and strangle his bastard brother tested his self-control.

Where were the twins? Where was his mom? There was only silence coming from the rest of the house and he prayed they were unhurt.

For now, he focused on the occupants of the kitchen.

Harley looked fragile, breakable, like one of those delicate figurines his mom had kept on the fireplace mantle before his dad took exception to a misplaced comment and decided to bust them up.

A muscle jumped in his bicep. Ignoring the man with the weapon, he looked into Harley’s soft mocha eyes. “Are you all okay?”

She nodded once, her lips pressed together, her dark eyes filled with fear and relief, hero worship and love. Damn, he didn’t deserve that, not after the way he’d walked out on her and the girls.

If he’d been here, Mike wouldn’t have her in a neck lock now.

Was it too late to make reparations?

Gage stepped forward, and stopped mid-stride when Mike pressed the knife blade harder against her throat.