Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(18)

“Someone was going to roofie you?” Ro asked.

At the same time Ball said, “A high-speed chase?”

Harlow glanced at the other men, then dropped her head on her arms on the table. “Shoot me now,” she mumbled.

Black brushed her hair out of the way and placed his hand on the back of her neck. He squeezed lightly in support as he said to his friends, “How about you let me get that info from her? I’ll pass along anything that might be pertinent.”

He felt goose bumps pebble on Harlow’s skin and inwardly smiled in satisfaction. No matter what she might say verbally, she enjoyed his touch. He could work with that.

“How long have you known each other?” Meat asked with a tilt of his head.

“Since we were teenagers,” Black said immediately.

Harlow sat up at that. “Well, we met in high school, but I didn’t see him again until last month when he came by the shelter.”

“So you’ve been seeing each other since then?” Ro asked, obviously trying to figure out the dynamics between them.

“No. But I did give her my number,” Black said with a smile.

Harlow rolled her eyes. “I called him because of everything that’s been going on. A month ago, he said that he’d help get me enrolled in a beginner’s gun-safety class at his range. I called today to ask if he’d be willing to come back to the shelter and teach more self-defense stuff to the women because of the harassment.”

“So . . . you knew each other in high school, you saw each other after years and years last month, you called him earlier today, and now you’re dating?” Ball asked, trying to sum up the situation.

“No!” Harlow denied.

At the same time, Black said, “Yes, except for the fact we aren’t dating.”

He smiled at Harlow and reminded his friends, “Harlow doesn’t date. As she’s said, she hasn’t had good luck in that area. So we’re just chatting. Talking about the situation at the shelter.”

“I think I want to know more about these not-so-great dates of yours,” Meat said. “I’ve never met anyone who’s given up on dating altogether before.”

Black knew he was teasing him more than he was Harlow. It was obvious to his friends that he felt protective of, and was attracted to, the woman next to him. He narrowed his eyes at Meat and shook his head slightly.

Meat either didn’t see him or ignored his warning, because he went on. “I mean, Black hasn’t dated in forever, but I don’t think he can blame that on dates gone wrong. He’s just a picky son of a bitch who’s like that Seinfeld character. He always finds something wrong with the women he’s been with. You know . . . too clingy, not clingy enough, too tall, her name is too weird—things like that.”

“Jesus, Meat, shut the fuck up,” Black growled.

“It’s only fair,” Harlow said. “If I have to tell you all about my messed-up dating history, I should know about yours in return.”

“How about this? I don’t want to know about either of your fucked-up past dates,” Ro said dryly. “Chloe is waiting for me at home, and she hasn’t been feeling well for the past week, and tonight is the first night she’s feeling good enough to do more than sleep in our bed, if you know what I mean. So if we can get on with this so I can go home to my girl, I’d appreciate it.”

Black smirked and Harlow blushed.

“Fine,” Meat conceded. “But seriously, Harlow, if you have even the slightest bad feeling about any of the douchebags who couldn’t see for themselves how awesome you are, you give Black their names, and he’ll pass them on to me. I do want the name of the roofie guy, though. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Black hadn’t taken his hand from her nape when she’d sat up, and he gave her another squeeze in support.

“Right, so . . . tell us more about the men hanging around the shelter,” Ball ordered. “We need to know everything you can remember about them. What they look like, if they have an accent, if you’ve seen them driving any specific vehicle, tattoos, everything.”

For the next twenty minutes, Harlow told the men everything she could. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a lot. They knew the men were young looking, liked to wear baggy pants and white shirts. She rarely saw them in cars, and they didn’t have any discernible accents. Basically, they had nothing concrete to go on.

“I’m sorry, guys. I usually try not to look directly at them when they’re taunting and yelling stuff. I suppose I can try to get closer to them the next time I see them so—”

“No!” all four men exclaimed at once.

Harlow winced and held up her hands. “Okay, okay. It was just a thought.”

“If you see them, you walk the other way,” Black ordered. “Better yet, if you’re close enough, go back inside the shelter and call me or one of the others. I’ll make sure you have everyone’s phone numbers. And if you’re already in the parking lot, you get in your car and leave immediately. Don’t stop to put down the top either. You can do that later.”

“The top?” Ball asked.

“She’s got a Mustang convertible,” Black told the others.

Ball whistled. “Sweet ride.”