Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(29)

“Yeah, but crashing this shindig?” Memphis said. “What about in the morning? You know, when all the old people are sleeping this deal off? We could figure out how to call her, maybe see her at breakfast.”

That gave Wyatt an idea. He used the bar phone and tried to charm his way into figuring out what room she was in. Right now he was wondering if she was up there alone, sulking on her birthday. The closest he got to figuring it out was hearing the word ‘penthouse.’ The nice waitress told him that he would need a key for the elevator to even take him up there.

He had no choice but to wait, and he did.

Hours later, when guests started to leave he leaned in the doorway of the bar, watching the formal gowns pass him by. Then all at once he saw Claire Tatum, felt his blood boil when he heard her fake laugh. Just behind her, smiling, looking radiant in a black gown with a small tiara on her perfectly placed hair was Harley; on her arm, some stuffed suit *.

That didn’t stop Wyatt; not at all. He walked right across that lobby like he owned it, feeling and hearing Memphis and Easton right behind him. When he reached the elevator, Harley, her date, and mother were already inside. Harley’s eyes locked with his, and her smile fell, but he knew her well enough to know it was from shock; the way her chest was rising and falling told him that, told him he still had an effect on her. No time could dull the emotions between them.

“Something wrong?” the guy with her asked, even moving just before Harley.

“No, Collin, nothing at all,” Claire said with a glare as she pushed the doors to close. Wyatt dove for them, had his arm caught between them, but Easton and Memphis pulled him back, rushed him from the lobby, even drove down the street and waited, wondering if anyone was coming after them.

Wyatt got out of the truck and tore off toward the hotel.

“What did you expect to happen walking up to her with her mother right there?” Memphis said from the passenger seat as Easton drove the truck alongside Wyatt, who was power walking back to the hotel.

Who was that guy with her? Wyatt kept asking himself. Did he read her wrong? Did she pull that guy in front of her, or did he step there? Wyatt couldn’t remember. It happened too fast. All he could remember were her eyes, that ripping pain in the center of his chest.

“I’m not afraid of that woman.”

“Harley is,” Memphis pointed out. “For all you know, you got her in trouble.”

“That’s why I’m going back. I’m going to tell that woman Harley’s eighteen, an adult, and if she doesn’t want to see me, then she needs to say so.”

“A birthday doesn’t change anything,” Memphis said. “She’s still in school. Still timid. I could even see that.”

“Get in the truck, Wyatt. You’re not even acting sane anymore,” Easton yelled as a car behind him honked its horn.

“I get in that truck, and you’re going to take me home. I know Harley. Even if she was in trouble, she’d find a way to give me some signal, some way to see me.”

“You get in this truck, act like you have some sense, and we’ll go back—but not in. We’ll wait for her to show outside or see us from her room,” Easton swore.

Wyatt could agree with that. Just to be sure his boys were not bullshitting him, he took over the driver’s seat and parked the truck where he could see the penthouse, the lights that were on.

Wyatt swore the second Claire went to sleep, left Harley alone, that she would sneak out, at least see him. Maybe not run away, but she would see him.

Both Memphis and Easton were sound asleep in the cab of the truck at 6 A.M., alone, Wyatt watched Harley and the stuffed suit come out and get in a car and drive away once their bags were loaded. Harley didn’t even bother to glance in his direction.

Wyatt had driven a hundred miles home before Easton woke to see that Wyatt was going near ninety.

“What happened? Who we running from?”

“A f*cked up idea.”

Easton let out a deep breath, knowing it was going to take him forever to get Wyatt back to his old self, but at least he had gotten this out of his head.

When they stopped for gas and Wyatt was paying, grabbing them snacks for the road, Memphis looked right at Easton. “When we get back, if you two asses are not at school, you better either be at the volunteer or my daddy’s garage. We have to keep him focused. He’s mad now, but that might be what he needs to get over this girl.”

Easton stared at Wyatt as he walked back to the truck, how fierce he looked with that anger in his sharp eyes. “It’s going to take something bigger than this to get him over her, more than the fire department to keep him distracted.”

“Like what?”

“Fuck if I know, but no doubt he’s going to drag me into whatever hell he digs up.”

“Easton, I’m trusting you to keep him in line. I’m not here enough to do that.”

Easton only nodded once as Wyatt climbed back in the cab of the truck.

***

Camille Doran was leaning against the column on her front porch, staring at the distant dark driveway, waiting for her son. She was furious, but at the same time she felt agony for him; her boy was hurt, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

Beckett stepped out the front door, handed his wife a steaming cup of coffee. “Lucas said they just dropped Memphis off.”