Slow Burn: A Texas Heat Novel (8 page)

Colt Billings planned to rebuild his life overseas. So far, Harper was able to liquidate $125,000. Colt wanted it all. It would take several more days to get him the rest. She had to sell some stocks and deal with several banks.

In the meantime, they kept a low profile. Her biological father rented a cheap flat in Croydon. Harper sat on the balcony with her knees to her chest. The wind blew icy raindrops that pelted her skin from an overcast sky. Cars and double decker buses jammed the narrow streets. Pedestrians crowded the sidewalk on both sides of London Road. Harper blocked out thoughts of the people she loved. For her own sanity, she had to.

In particular, she couldn’t bear to think about the lie she told Donavan. Harper covered her wet face with trembling hands. As if any part of that text could ever be true. She loved Donavan so much, being parted from him made it hard to breathe, sleep, eat, and function. Even though he didn’t love her as a woman, he cared for her as a friend. If he suspected she was in danger, he would come after her. If Donavan ever discovered Colt’s abuse he would kill the man for it, no doubt in her mind. Donavan would annihilate her biological.

The planet would be better off without Colt Billings but he had a partner in crime roaming her beloved Aberdeen. It was no empty threat on Colt’s part to hurt her loved ones unless he got the full $250,000 she had in trust. Halfway there. In just a few days, this nightmare would be over. Colt would slither back in the sewer he crawled out of. She felt his cold presence behind her.

“You thinkin’ of jumping?”

Harper shook her head. “It’ll take more than you to destroy me.”

Colt chuckled. He scratched the black and silver whiskers on his jaw. “Go to Tesco and get me some of them milk chocolate Digestives and them Hobnob cookies.”

“Fine, I have an errand to run first.”

Colt lit a cigarette he inhaled deep. A stream of smoke blew out of his nostrils. “Where you going?”

He’d confiscated her passport as soon as they landed in Heathrow Airport. “Sightseeing.”

Colt grunted. “Remember, we got a deal. I want that money.”

Harper was amazed how entitled he acted. Colt had an unnerving way of reading her mind. “Yeah Raven, you owe me. After killing my wife cause your head was too damn big, you owe me.”

Harper flinched. Her mother died in childbirth after thirty-six hours in labor. Colt never forgave Harper for it. He not only blamed her, he punished her for his loss. The fact that she resembled Rose Billings so much enraged him. Harper had her silken black hair, green eyes and statuesque figure.

“When you go sightseeing, wave to the queen for me.”

Colt put the cigarette out on her arm. Harper gasped from the pain as he ground the hot ashes deep in her pale skin. The first time he did that to her she was four years old. “There’s plenty more where that came from, have fun touring Raven, be back before dark, don’t make me hurt you.”

Harper scrambled to her feet. She skirted past him. He took out another cigarette. “Daddy’ll be waitin’ for ya.”

Harper took the number 250 bus to Thornton Heath Station. She ran up the High Street, passed a florist, the coffee shop and newspaper stand. She bought a one day travel card and took the train to Victoria Station. She kept her head down in the crowd. She took the underground tube station to Notting Hill Gate.

The house had soaring columns, walls of clinging ivy and gardens. Harper opened the ornate iron-gate. She raised the brass knocker.

A maid answered the door. “Hi-ya,” she said. “How can I help?”

Harper squared her shoulders. “I’m here to see Mrs. Carrington.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“A friend of her son’s.”

Minutes later, Harper was ushered into a stately room with floor to ceiling windows that overlooked a small greenhouse full of roses and herbs.

Donavan’s mother stood frozen in the center of the room. She was still a stunningly beautiful woman in her late fifties. She wore a Scottish wool jumper with a long tweed skirt and leather boots. Her silver blond hair was meticulously styled in a feathered bob.

Harper had no idea she rudely stared. Subconsciously, she hungrily searched Cynthia’s features for traces of Donavan’s likeness. She had his nose and bold profile. Everything else was Allister McClain’s.

“Harper? Harper Grant?” she asked in shock. “How on earth did you find me?”

“I just googled ‘selfish bitch’ and bam, your address popped right up.”

Cynthia clasped her jeweled hands. “Guess I had that coming, won’t you sit down for tea and refreshments?”

Harper walked straight up to her. She towered over the older woman.

“Are you going to hit me?”

“I’d like to,” Harper said.

“You really are magnificent, no wonder Donnie was so fascinated with you.”

“How could you leave him?” Harper asked brokenly.

Cynthia blanched. She quickly recovered. “I never understood why wives and moms leave until I became one of them.”

“Yeah it must’ve been tough having a husband who worshiped you, a son who adored you, going to the country club every day, never worked a day in your life, boo hoo for you.”

“If you must know, I fell in love with a woman.”

Harper’s jaw dropped. Whatever lame excuse she expected it wasn’t that. “Oh.”

“Care for some tea?”

Harper shook her head. Cynthia sat down on a plush love seat. She poured herself a cup and eyed Harper over the rim of bone china.

Harper knew she looked like something the cat dragged in, clawed over and puked up. She wore a long sleeved navy hoodie and jeans. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. No makeup. Her face pinched with fear and worry. She looked at Cynthia head on.

“I knew that the scandal would make life harder for Donavan. I was married to a good man but Allister is a powerful CEO, he would’ve destroyed me and fought for custody of Donavan. It would’ve been a messy divorce. I couldn’t do that to my son.”

“So you abandoned him instead, without explanation?” Harper asked. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt him?”

Cynthia winced. “Do you think leaving him was easy?” she asked. “Look around you Miss Grant.” Cynthia gestured. Harper rose to her feet. She walked up to the marble fireplace. On the wide mantle were framed pictures of Donavan from infancy to age ten. Harper’s heart lurched. “He looked like this when I met him,” she whispered, “Hair so blond it was nearly white, a head full of curls,” Harper said wistfully. She pointed to another frame. “Oh I remember that one, third grade Halloween party. That’s why I called him Thor because of the costume.”

Cynthia chuckled. “He came home and complained bitterly about you. Mom, Harper Grant drives me crazy, he used to say. It was always Harper this and Harper that and mom you’ll never believe what Amazon did to me today.”

The last picture captured his half smile, dimpled grin. It was Harper’s undoing. She spun away from the pictures and stood by the windows facing the garden. Her body shook uncontrollably.  

“I shouldn’t have come,” Harper said. “I still think you should’ve found a way but I can’t judge.” Harper hugged herself to stop the tremors. “It’s just that I would’ve done anything to be in his life. To be there for him when he got home from a hard day, to cook for him, take care of him if he’s sick, make him laugh when he takes himself too seriously, to be his warmth if he was cold, to give him my time, affection, to just be in the same room with him.” Harper closed her eyes. She had no idea she was crying.

Cynthia touched her shoulder. Harper spun around. “This was a mistake, I had no right to come here.”

Harper walked swiftly to the door.

“Harper? Wait!” Cynthia had to run to keep up with her.

“What is he like?”

Harper sighed. “He’s the most beautiful man on earth,” she said achingly. She rushed past the maid and out the door.

Cynthia watched her through lace curtains. A man stood by the gate. Harper froze at the sight of him. They exchanged words. He draped a hand around her neck. To the casual observer it seemed like a show of affection. Cynthia would’ve thought so too until he dug his finger nails in her neck like claws. Cynthia gasped.

“What is it miss?” the maid asked.

“Imogen, I need you to do something for me, it’s of the utmost importance.”

“Yes, anything.”

“Follow that couple, be discreet, I want an address.”

“Yes miss.” 

Chapter 15

Donavan was a mean drunk. He said cutting, awful things to anyone stupid enough to come near him. The scalding liquid burn obliterated thoughts of
her
. She haunted him with her frigging beauty and wit. Now Harper gave her exquisite body and her heart to someone else.

“All my fault,” he muttered.

The images of his dad and Mrs. Gilbert swam before him. The woman who became more than a housekeeper to him and a second mother, wept by the doorway. Her red rimmed eyes, pale face and quivering chin went in and out of focus. Allister knelt beside him, shockingly sober. His father tried to take the bottle.

“Get your own!” Donavan growled in his father’s face. Allister flinched. His blond silver hair stood on end as if he’d been pulling it. His blue eyes, identical to his son’s were piercingly intense.

“Son, please give me the bottle.”

Donavan glared at Allister blurry eyed.

“Why don’t you join me?” he said, “We can bond, see who can puke their guts out first.”

Mrs. Gilbert sobbed. “Whatta matter Mrs. G? Why you cry?”

“Donavan Ethan McClain give me the damn bottle.”

Why the hostile tone? “All right already, no need to shout.”

Donavan handed the bottle to him. Allister gave it to Mrs. Gilbert who held it away from her like an armed grenade. She left to confiscate it.

“Oh Jesus,” Allister said, “What have I done?”

Donavan leaned his head back. He sat on the greenhouse floor. His face ruddy with intoxication. Watery blue eyes blinked hard. Allister’s grief stricken face hovered at the edges of consciousness.

“You are the best man I know,” Allister said tenderly, “You’re better than this, stronger than me, son, whatever it is, you need to fight.”

“I hurt her, hurt her so much and now-”

“Who?” Allister asked urgently.

“Harper.”

His father’s eyebrows snapped together. “The little girl you argue with?”

In Allister’s drunken stupor he missed a few years.

“She’s freaking huge,” Donavan said. “Tall, curvy, pretty girl.”

Realization dawned. Allister’s harsh expression softened. “Oh my boy, you love her.”

Donavan laughed mirthlessly. “It doesn’t matter, I lost her.”

“So you’re going to give up, just like that?”

“Yep, she moved on.”

“Do you know that for sure?”

Donavan blinked. Something in his mind clicked. Harper never texted him.
If I have something to say to you Thor, I’ll call you, rip you through the phone or yell in your face, take your pick.

Donavan tried to get up but fell on his ass. Three bottles of brandy will do that to a grown man, especially one not used to drinking.

“I’ll help you up.” Allister pulled him to his feet.

Donavan stumbled. The room swayed. “Mrs. Gilbert!” Allister yelled. She came running. “Get our boy a pot of coffee.”

“Yes, right away.” She dashed off. Allister helped his son up the stairs. He turned on the shower. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

Donavan took a cold shower and got dressed. He still had trouble with quick movements but after a pot of strong coffee, a vile tomato concoction of Mrs. G’s and a plate of food, he sobered up.
Son whatever it is, you need to fight
. Damn straight! Donavan rapidly explained the situation and picked up the phone.

Carl and Lindsey Grant stood bleary eyed in robes and bare feet. “It’s four in the morning,” Carl groused. “What in the world?”

Donavan entered the foyer. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the framed pictures of Harper in family photos mounted on the walls.

Lindsey frowned. “What is it? Is Harper all right?” she asked, alarmed.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Carl’s face went ashen. “What do you mean?”

“Did she call you or text you about her trip abroad?” Donavan asked.

Carl looked baffled. “Harper left a voice message, right hon?”

“Yes,” Lindsey said. She finger combed her brown hair. “I thought it was weird, just out of the blue, you know?”

“May I hear the message?”

The odd request didn’t faze the couple. Lindsey went for her cell phone. Carl and Donavan exchanged a pointed look, man to man.

“You’re going to bring our girl home,” Carl said.

“If she’ll have me,” Donavan said gruffly.

Carl’s lips quirked. “Oh, I have feeling she’ll have you.”

Lindsey came down the stairs. She pressed buttons on the phone before handing it over.

The sound of Harper’s voice sent a tremor right through him.

“Hi mama, daddy, I’m going on a trip overseas with some friends, I’ll be back in a couple of weeks. Sorry I didn’t tell you about this earlier, I-I love you both very much, bye.”

Donavan listened to the message again.
There!
“You hear the rasp in her voice?”

The Grants shook their heads. Donavan put the message on speaker. Harper’s voice broke into a deep rasp when she told her parents she loved them.

“Oh,” Lindsey said. “That sound she makes in her throat.”

“When she’s afraid,” Donavan said.

Lindsey held her husband’s hand. “Carl,” she whispered. She visibly shook with a mother’s fear.

“What are you thinking?” Carl asked, his voice unsteady.

“Where’s her biological father?”

Lindsey gasped. Carl stiffened. “H-He’s a convicted felon serving a forty year sentence.”

“What prison?”

“Fort Douglas Maximum Security.”

Donavan was on the phone with the Department of Corrections. He gave his badge number and waited.

“Let’s see,” the officer said, “Colt Billings was granted parole two months ago.”

Donavan’s jaw clenched. He hung up. “He’s out, early release.”

“What?” Lindsey gripped the stair rail and sat down hard as if she’d collapse. Carl tried to hold it together. Tears filled his eyes.