Read Online The Reasons to Stay (Harlequin Superromance) by Laura Drake - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Laura Drake
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hour ago, but Floyd had shown up late for work. She couldn’t very well walk away from a bar full of patrons.
But damn, it was Nacho’s first day with her, and now she’d left him cooling his heels on the sidewalk.
Great way to make a kid feel secure, Hart.
That wasn’t the way she’d wanted to start.
Something about the knot of people gathered in front of the drugstore made her heart bang like Mona’s engine on a bad day. There was no reason to believe this had anything to do with Nacho, but her shit-meter redlined just the same. Her stomach muscles snapped taut, clicking into defense mode. When she squealed to a stop at the curb, heads swiveled in her direction. She shut off Mona and stood on the seat to see over the small crowd.
“Help me, somebody!” Nacho strained like a dog at the end of a leash, the collar of his T-shirt choking him. Her landlord stood behind him, his fist knotted in cotton, his face redder than Nacho’s, fiddling with a phone.
“You let him go!” Priss yelled, vaulting over the passenger-side door.
Bystanders backed away as she charged in like a Pamplona bull.
She grabbed Adam’s forearm and squeezed. The muscle, like braided wire, didn’t give. “What are you doing? Can’t you see you’re choking him?” When he ignored her, she gave up on the arm, and grabbed Nacho’s shoulders instead and looked him in the eyes. “Stop fighting. You’re making it worse.”
“You’ll want to stay out of this.” Adam’s dark eyes were cool. “He’s a shoplifter. I’m calling the cops.” He hit a button on the phone and raised it to his ear.
“You. Let. Him. Go .” The steely, blood-tipped threat in her voice almost frightened her .
Adam let go.
Instinctively, her arms went around the boy’s shoulders. “He’s my brother.”
Nacho struggled in her embrace, then froze. So did Adam.
He hit a button and slowly lowered the phone. “He’s what? ”
She stuck out her chest and tightened her grip on Nacho’s shoulders. Righteously indignant was a strong offense. “He’s my brother. He wouldn’t steal.”
God, please, he wouldn’t do that, would he?
She had to know. Her eyes traveled down to Nacho. Chin stuck out, lips a tight thin line, eyebrows matching commas of anger over eyes that...were larcenous.
Shit.
There was no doubt in her mind. He’d done it. A flush of heat spread up from her chest. Sweat popped at her hairline, but then freeze-dried in the chill rolling off her landlord.
“Really.” He dropped his phone into his pocket, then lifted the hem of Nacho’s shirt. He pulled out a magazine with a souped-up hot rod on the cover, garish flames painted on the hood. “You undoubtedly have a receipt for this, then.”
Nacho studied his sneakers. Priss squirmed inside as if she were the guilty party.
Apparently—and thankfully—public shaming wasn’t entertaining because the crowd broke up, wandering away in ones and twos.
“Look.” Priss swallowed, having no idea of what she’d say next. This very morning she’d rescued the kid from Social Services. Now he was facing juvie.
Two government institutions in one day? That has to be some kind of record.
Arguments, pleas and downright supplications whirled through her mind. She tested and discarded each in nanoseconds.
Adam glared at Nacho. Then at her. She could almost see him connecting dots that would lead to the holes in her story.
This was going to take a delicate blend of the truth and every bit of the manipulation she’d learned on the street. She relaxed her face into her “waif” look and raised her rounded eyes. “Could I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
“I’m not taking my eye off him, and no matter what you say, I’m calling the cops.”
“I understand.” She dug her fingers in the hollows next to Nacho’s collarbone. “You. Wait here. If you move—”
He scrunched his shoulders and winced. “I won’t. I promise.”
Adam’s huff made it clear what he thought of a
But damn, it was Nacho’s first day with her, and now she’d left him cooling his heels on the sidewalk.
Great way to make a kid feel secure, Hart.
That wasn’t the way she’d wanted to start.
Something about the knot of people gathered in front of the drugstore made her heart bang like Mona’s engine on a bad day. There was no reason to believe this had anything to do with Nacho, but her shit-meter redlined just the same. Her stomach muscles snapped taut, clicking into defense mode. When she squealed to a stop at the curb, heads swiveled in her direction. She shut off Mona and stood on the seat to see over the small crowd.
“Help me, somebody!” Nacho strained like a dog at the end of a leash, the collar of his T-shirt choking him. Her landlord stood behind him, his fist knotted in cotton, his face redder than Nacho’s, fiddling with a phone.
“You let him go!” Priss yelled, vaulting over the passenger-side door.
Bystanders backed away as she charged in like a Pamplona bull.
She grabbed Adam’s forearm and squeezed. The muscle, like braided wire, didn’t give. “What are you doing? Can’t you see you’re choking him?” When he ignored her, she gave up on the arm, and grabbed Nacho’s shoulders instead and looked him in the eyes. “Stop fighting. You’re making it worse.”
“You’ll want to stay out of this.” Adam’s dark eyes were cool. “He’s a shoplifter. I’m calling the cops.” He hit a button on the phone and raised it to his ear.
“You. Let. Him. Go .” The steely, blood-tipped threat in her voice almost frightened her .
Adam let go.
Instinctively, her arms went around the boy’s shoulders. “He’s my brother.”
Nacho struggled in her embrace, then froze. So did Adam.
He hit a button and slowly lowered the phone. “He’s what? ”
She stuck out her chest and tightened her grip on Nacho’s shoulders. Righteously indignant was a strong offense. “He’s my brother. He wouldn’t steal.”
God, please, he wouldn’t do that, would he?
She had to know. Her eyes traveled down to Nacho. Chin stuck out, lips a tight thin line, eyebrows matching commas of anger over eyes that...were larcenous.
Shit.
There was no doubt in her mind. He’d done it. A flush of heat spread up from her chest. Sweat popped at her hairline, but then freeze-dried in the chill rolling off her landlord.
“Really.” He dropped his phone into his pocket, then lifted the hem of Nacho’s shirt. He pulled out a magazine with a souped-up hot rod on the cover, garish flames painted on the hood. “You undoubtedly have a receipt for this, then.”
Nacho studied his sneakers. Priss squirmed inside as if she were the guilty party.
Apparently—and thankfully—public shaming wasn’t entertaining because the crowd broke up, wandering away in ones and twos.
“Look.” Priss swallowed, having no idea of what she’d say next. This very morning she’d rescued the kid from Social Services. Now he was facing juvie.
Two government institutions in one day? That has to be some kind of record.
Arguments, pleas and downright supplications whirled through her mind. She tested and discarded each in nanoseconds.
Adam glared at Nacho. Then at her. She could almost see him connecting dots that would lead to the holes in her story.
This was going to take a delicate blend of the truth and every bit of the manipulation she’d learned on the street. She relaxed her face into her “waif” look and raised her rounded eyes. “Could I talk to you for a second? Alone?”
“I’m not taking my eye off him, and no matter what you say, I’m calling the cops.”
“I understand.” She dug her fingers in the hollows next to Nacho’s collarbone. “You. Wait here. If you move—”
He scrunched his shoulders and winced. “I won’t. I promise.”
Adam’s huff made it clear what he thought of a
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