Defending Harlow (Mountain Mercenaries #4)(83)

If a day passed without him talking to Harlow—hell, if a few hours passed—Black got antsy. Wanted to know where she was, what she was doing, and if she was okay. A part of him worried that he was being over the top, but until Harlow balked, he wasn’t going to be nervous about it.

Now that he was thinking about Harlow, Black needed to hear her voice. He picked up the phone and dialed her number before he left the bar.

She answered on the second ring. “Hi, Lowell.”

Once again, hearing her say his name made something inside him settle. “Hey, baby.”

“What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

She sighed. “That’s sweet.”

It wasn’t sweet. It was as necessary to him as breathing. “You still planning on heading to the shelter around two thirty?”

“Yeah. Now that I know what’s going on with Loretta and the shelter, it’s a lot harder to plan the meals. I want to be sensitive to how much she can afford to pay, but at the same time try to continue buying food that’s good for everyone. It frustrates me that the healthiest food is the most expensive. No wonder ramen noodles are so cheap—they’re full of sodium and other stuff that isn’t healthy for a kid to eat—never mind full-grown adults.”

“Mm-hm,” Black muttered, letting her know he was listening.

“Did you know you’re supposed to do the majority of your shopping from the outside aisles of the stores? The cookies and crackers and most of the cheapest junk are usually in the middle, and the healthy vegetables and other stuff are on the outer aisles. I understand why Jasper weighs what he does. Because cheap food is full of crap. Julia did her best with him, but it takes time, energy, and money to make good meals every day.”

When Black didn’t answer right away, she asked, “Lowell? Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” he reassured her.

“Oh. Right, sorry.” She chuckled self-consciously. “I was going on and on. Anyway, yeah, the menu planning isn’t going so well. But I’ll just have to be more creative, I guess.”

“If anyone can figure it out, it’s you, baby,” Black told her.

“Thanks.”

“I’m on my way to the range, I just wanted you to know.”

“Okay. How’d your meeting with the guys go? Did you find out anything?”

Black wanted to tell her about Nolan Woolf and everything they’d figured out, but he also didn’t want to worry her. He wasn’t as concerned about Brian and his buddies anymore, figuring after his “chat” with Brian, he’d be lying low. “We’re working on it,” he said. “We might have some leads. I’ll tell you about them when I see you later.”

“Okay,” Harlow said.

Black loved how she didn’t demand he tell her everything right that second. He knew she was curious, but it felt good that she trusted him to tell her what he could, when he could. That was important to him, considering his job with the Mountain Mercenaries. It wasn’t like when he was a SEAL, and he literally wasn’t allowed to tell anyone anything because most of the missions were top secret, but Rex still preferred that they not talk about their missions until after they were over. So there would be times in the future when he couldn’t talk about where he was going or for how long, but when he got home, it would be nice to have someone to talk to, to decompress with.

“I’ll see you later. Text me when you leave for the shelter,” he told her.

“I will. Be safe at the range.”

“You know it. Bye, baby.”

“Bye.”

Black smiled all the way to the range. He couldn’t remember ever feeling as grounded as he was with Harlow. No woman had made him feel so calm. That was just her personality. He couldn’t wait to see her later.



Nolan Woolf stared at the building across the street from his hiding spot, on the second floor of the pawnshop he owned. He’d heard from Elliott, one of the punks he’d hired to harass the residents at the shelter, that Brian, the so-called leader of the group, had been beaten up. Actually, he’d had his ass kicked. And it wasn’t by a rival gang or some other punks who thought they were hot shit.

No, he’d been worked over by a professional—and Nolan knew just who’d done it. One of the assholes who had started hanging out at the shelter.

His time was running out, and he knew it.

Wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, he mentally went through his plan once more.

It would work. It had to work.

A burned-out shell of a building wouldn’t be worth much of anything, and the man Loretta was currently negotiating with would surely withdraw his offer. Then Nolan could swoop in and send another offer. She’d have no choice but to accept. No one else would give her anything for the worthless pile of bricks after today.

Nodding to himself, Nolan knew he was doing the right thing. He’d wait until the bitches were in their weekly meeting before acting. They’d all be gathered on the first floor and could easily get out of the building.

He wasn’t a bad person. He didn’t want to kill anyone. If the bitches lost their possessions—not that they had much to start with—those could be replaced. Nolan only wanted the building. Money was what motivated him. And this way, he could get both. He’d have the building and save hundreds of thousands of dollars at the same time.