Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(17)

“What does he like to do?” Meat asked.

“Play video games,” Harlow said.

“Let me know which ones, and I’ll add him to one of my teams,” Meat told her.

“Thanks,” she said softly. Then she looked each man in the eye and said, “Thank you. I know he’d love that. But if you don’t mean it, don’t start anything with him. Don’t promise to spend time with him, then go back on that promise. He’s had enough of that in his life.”

Ball frowned at her. “We aren’t like his asshole of a father,” he scolded Harlow gently. “If we say we’re going to do something, we’re going to do it.”

Black felt Harlow tense beside him and had opened his mouth to soften Ball’s words when Harlow nudged him with her elbow and asked, “Is that another rule about your world?”

He huffed out a breath. “Yeah, Harl. It definitely is.”

“What rule? What world?” Ro asked.

Black waved his hand. “Nothing. Never mind.”

“I’m sorry,” Harlow told the group. “I shouldn’t have jumped down your throats. Of course you aren’t like Wyatt. I appreciate you offering to hang out with Jasper.”

Black liked that she had no problem admitting when she’d been wrong. “What else, Meat?”

“Sue Myers, Ann Smith, Lauren French, and Kristen Schaefer don’t have any big, bad exes in their pasts that I found on my initial search. They’ve fallen on hard times, no doubt about that, but their reliance on the shelter doesn’t seem to be because of an ex-boyfriend or -girlfriend. Declan Hamlin is a first-rate asshole, beat on his wife and kid, and when she finally stood up to him, kicked them both out. The divorce isn’t final, and he’s fighting every little thing that Melinda asks for—except custody of their son, Milo. He doesn’t want the kid, just doesn’t want Melinda to get any money or belongings.

“Zachary Morehouse is deceased, as you know. That’s a sad case, as he was about to join the Army. He and Bethany Zimmerman weren’t married yet, even though they have a five-year-old daughter. Anyway, then there’s Charles Royal, otherwise known as Chuck. He just turned forty and has been fired from at least ten different jobs. He’s an alcoholic who prefers to sit around the house and drink rather than work. His wife, Lisa, had two jobs to try to keep a roof over their heads, but it wasn’t enough. When they were kicked out, he disappeared. I haven’t been able to find him yet.

“And lastly, there’s Travis Bronson. If I had to guess, this is the guy we should be looking into the most. He’s forty-nine now and ten years older than Violet. They got married when she was only eighteen. She’s been in and out of the hospital most of their marriage—with broken bones and stories about being clumsy. Lacie was born after ten years of marriage, and Violet has had several miscarriages since then. From what I can piece together, Violet fled with her daughter after Lacie ended up in the emergency room with a broken arm. There’s a note in her file that says the nurse suspected abuse in the home. Travis is one mean son of a bitch, and he’s not happy that his wife and daughter disappeared.”

Black put his arm around Harlow and squeezed her waist in support. She’d gotten paler and paler as she’d listened to Meat recite the awful things about the residents she cooked for. He and the others were used to hearing about the worst of human nature, but Harlow obviously wasn’t.

“So you think Travis has found them?” she asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Meat corrected.

“But you said—” She didn’t get any further before Meat interrupted.

“I said if I had to guess, he was my top suspect. But nothing that you’ve told Black matches what our experiences are in cases like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I highly doubt the men harassing you and the others are any of the exes of the residents. The youngest is Nate Taylor, but he’s African American—and you didn’t say anything about any of the men you’ve seen being black.”

“They aren’t,” Harlow confirmed.

“Right. So it’s not him. We have a lot more research to do before we can say who’s behind this and why. It could be just as you thought—a bunch of bored punks picking on women and kids because they can. Or it could be someone’s ex hired them to make trouble for some reason or another. Or maybe it’s someone from your past, or Loretta’s. Or it’s something completely unrelated to any of you.

“The thing you need to understand is that we never jump to conclusions. There are a million reasons why this could be happening, and until we narrow that million down to just one, we’ll continue to look at everyone and every situation. Now . . . we need to talk about your exes.”

With that, Harlow’s eyes got wide, and she looked at the men, who were staring at her expectantly, before turning to Black. “I don’t have any exes.”

“Harl,” he said gently. “Since I’ve seen you today, you’ve told me at least four stories about dates gone bad—including the asshole who took you on a high-speed chase and was planning on roofie-ing you after or during your date.”

She shook her head. “Right, but I wasn’t actually dating any of them. I mean, I’ve been on dates, but usually it’s only one before they show me what douches they are. I wouldn’t consider them ex-anythings.”