Paula Graves: Major Nanny

“His parents are wealthy,” Harlan said. While he’d waited for Jeff Appleton to return from the search of Lewis’s apartment, he’d heard from Vince Russo with more on Trevor Lewis’s background. He came from a wealthy family in the San Mateo area, wealthy enough to indulge his love for horses by subsidizing his work as a stable groom without incurring any real hardship for themselves.

“If he has money, maybe he rents or owns another place where he keeps the explosives,” Appleton suggested.

“CSI is already looking into his finances,” Harlan assured him. He eyed the weary-looking deputy. “Are you done for the day or do you have to go in to work?”

“I’m done for now-I’m part of the sheriff’s detail of extra officers you requested to back up your men at the fundraiser.” Jeff stifled a yawn. “Charlotte Manning’s going to be watching Zachary anyway, so she said she’d be happy to keep an eye on Abby for me.” He glanced toward the hall to the bedroom. “I’d better get Abby up and go check her into school. Did she wake up at all?”

“No. She won’t know you were ever gone.” Harlan couldn’t help but think about Zachary when he said the words. He glanced at his watch and saw with alarm that it was after eight o’clock. Stacy would have taken Zachary to school a half hour ago. She was probably waiting for him in her office, wondering why the hell he’d bugged out on her.

He kind of hated to tell her what had been going on while she slept. If the sight of those photos creeped out Harlan, what would they do to Stacy?

Harlan stopped off at the guesthouse, planning to shower and re-dress. He held out a small hope that Stacy might have gone back home before heading into the office for the big day of last-minute preparations, but when he asked the guard on duty if he’d seen her, he told Harlan that Stacy had taken Zachary to school and hadn’t returned.

Inside, he went to the hall closet to pull out fresh clothes for work but found nothing there but a few empty hangers. He shut the door, confused. Had she moved his clothes to her own closet? Was it her way of saying he was welcome in her bed for more than just one night?

But when he checked her closet, he found only her clothes. The clothes he’d shucked off last night were nowhere around.

He went back to the living room and found the answer to the mystery. His two duffel bags were sitting by the sofa, and if their shapes were anything to go by, all his clothes had been repacked inside. A folded piece of paper lay tucked under one of the duffel bag handles.

Apprehension making his gut clench, he opened the note. It was from Stacy, written in her neat, spare cursive. “Harlan, thanks for all your help. Zachary and I appreciate all you’ve done to keep us safe. With the fundraiser happening tonight, you’ll be going back to your own place, so I thought I’d go ahead and get your things together for you as a thank-you.”

She’d signed her name at the bottom. No postscript, no mention of what had happened between them the night before.

It was as if she’d decided to erase him from her life.

She’d said she wasn’t in the market for a relationship. He hadn’t been, either, until he met her and couldn’t get her out of his head.

After last night, he’d been sure she was beginning to feel the same way. In his arms, she’d been fierce and generous, taking everything he gave her and giving it right back to him. Could he have been wrong about what she was feeling?

Maybe her experience with her ex had done more of a number on her than he’d realized, he thought, refolding the note and tucking it into the pocket of his pants. If he ever ran into Anthony Giordano, he was going to have a hell of a lot to say.

Locking up behind him, he picked up the envelope full of photos he’d laid on the table by the door and headed outside. He left the truck parked in front of the guesthouse and walked the hundred yards between the guesthouse and the governor’s sprawling villa. It took him halfway there before the obvious answer for Stacy’s behavior slapped him right in the face.

He had left her bed without even leaving a note.

No phone calls to check in on her, no word at all. Just sex and a hasty escape-that’s what it would have looked like to her, wouldn’t it? No wonder she’d packed his bags and given him a brush-off note.

Stacy was in with the governor when Harlan knocked on the door. She looked up with cool lack of interest that made his chest ache. But he saw something in her eyes that convinced him she wasn’t as indifferent as she was trying to appear. A hint of pain at the sight of him, giving him evidence that he’d been right. She thought he considered her a one-night stand.

He’d disabuse her of that notion as soon as he could, but first, he had to show her and the governor what the Freedom Sheriff’s Department had found during their search of Trevor Lewis’s apartment.

He pulled up the chair the governor gestured toward and put the manila envelope on the desk in front of him. Stacy slanted a curious look at the envelope, but Lila ignored it. “I hear the Freedom Sheriff’s Department raided Trevor Lewis’s apartment in the middle of the night. You have anything to do with that?”

Harlan glanced at Stacy. She didn’t look surprised by the governor’s words, so this wasn’t the first she’d heard of it. Why was she still upset with him, if she knew why he’d left?

“I was tangentially involved,” he answered, dragging his gaze away from Stacy’s down-turned face.

“Did they find anything connecting him to the bombing in Austin?” Stacy asked, still not looking at him.

“No. But he’s connected to Planet Justice, the group that’s going to hold a protest tonight outside the fundraiser.”

Stacy’s gaze finally rose to meet his. “You’re kidding.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the worst of it.” He opened the envelope and pulled out the photos. “The deputies found this in his bedroom.”

He watched as horrified realization spread over her face, wondering if he should have softened the blow somehow. Why had he just sprung the photos on her without any preparation?

Was he that desperate to make her look at him again?

“My God,” she whispered.

Lila Lockhart held her hand out for the photos. Stacy handed them to the governor, who slipped on her glasses and flipped through the photographs, her expression darkening.

“This may not be legally actionable evidence, but it’s enough for me. I’ll take my lumps and fire the creepy little SOB from the stables. If he wants to make a public stink, I’ll tell them all about this bedroom shrine, and if he thinks I don’t have the gumption to do it, he doesn’t know who I am.”

Harlan smiled at the governor’s outburst. “Good. That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

“He may end up at the protest anyway,” Stacy pointed out in a quiet voice, still looking shocked and disturbed.

Harlan fought the urge to pull her into his arms and comfort her. At least, not here in front of the governor.

“Stacy, I’m done with you for now-go ahead and get to the last-minute tasks you were telling me about. And don’t forget my hairdresser from Dallas will be here this afternoon to doll us up for the big shindig.” Lila flashed her aide a dazzling smile before her expression grew sympathetic. “Try not to worry too much about those pictures. If Trevor Lewis so much as steps foot on this ranch, I’ll make sure he’s kicked off, pronto.”

“Thank you,” Stacy murmured and left the office.

Lila turned back to look at Harlan. “Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Mr. McClain.”

“Yes, ma’am, I know,” he answered, aware that keeping peace at tonight’s fundraiser was only half the battle he had to win.