Page 26 of SEAL's Harmony
“What’s he doing?” Harmony asked.
“My guess is he’s talking to the detective in charge of the scene. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. If you don’t want to do this alone, just tell him you want me to stay with you,” Ry said. He didn’t want her out of his sight. His gut said this wasn’t an accident.
“They can’t think I did this. What would be the reason? I need my car. How am I going to get to work? I don’t have the money to replace it.” Harmony’s voice rose as she started to hyperventilate.
Ry wrapped his arms around her and leaned her head against his chest. He rubbed up and down her back, trying to soothe Harmony as sobs wracked her. Hot tears soaked his T-shirt, but her breathing settled. Whiskey brushed against his leg to get closer to her. As Ry watched, the dog nuzzled her hand trying to offer his brand of comfort. Whatever she needed, he wanted to be the one to give it to her.
The sensation of being observed raised the hairs on the back of Ry’s neck. As he surveyed their surroundings, his gaze connected with the detective’s assessing one. Then the man headed toward them.
“Sweetheart, the detective is coming. Remember, none of this is your fault. They’re just trying to figure out what happened.”
Harmony lifted her tear-stained face and nodded. Ry wished with all his heart that he could whisk her away and kiss her until she shivered with desire instead of shock.
While Harmony registered Ry’s words, she couldn’t fathom how her car, her only means of transportation, no longer existed. If it was an accident, then she should count herself lucky that it hadn’t caught fire while she was driving. But the alternative, one she didn’t want to consider, seemed a lot more likely. But who? She hadn’t lived in Virginia long enough to bring this type of wrath down on her. Unless her father had tracked her down and this was part of his plan to get her back to Iowa and under his control.
Queasiness threatened to make her vomit all over Ry as saliva pooled in her mouth and bile rose up her throat. Gulping down air like her life depended on it, she focused on the firm muscles beneath her hands.
“Are you okay, baby? You’re pale as a ghost. Do you need to sit down?” Ry questioned, his forehead wrinkled with concern.
“I’m better now,” Harmony replied, and focused on taking short, measured breaths.
Ry lifted the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped the tears from her face, then dropped a quick kiss on the tip of her nose.
It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. Snuggling against his chest, she inhaled his masculine scent and let his calm presence ease her stress.
“Ma’am, my officer said this is your car.”
The police detective’s gravelly voice sent her anxiety spiraling out of control. Harmony jumped out of Ry’s arms, and her pulse pounded so loud she wondered if Ry could hear it.
“Yes, sir. That’s my parking space, and I parked there earlier.”
“Can you follow me so we can talk?” The detective lifted the caution tape for her to follow him.
Harmony held onto Ry’s hand for dear life. Even if it made her a chicken, when she looked up at the detective, she saw her father’s furious face.
“Sir, you can stay here.”
“No. He’s with me, the dog, too.” Harmony didn’t know where the determined voice came from, but she sighed with relief when the detective nodded.
Ry squeezed her hand and whispered, “That’s my girl.”
The curious glances from the onlookers made Harmony’s skin crawl. What if her father was in the crowd? Watching her? Just waiting for his chance to grab her and drag her back home. When she’d moved to Virginia, she’d prayed that it was too far for him to bother tracking her down like a lost dog. But maybe she’d been wrong. Acid churned in her stomach and perspiration dampened her forehead.
Finally, the gruff detective stopped in front of a dark blue sedan.
“I’m just going to take some notes, okay?”
Harmony nodded, Ry’s presence by her side the only thing keeping her from running away. This reminded her of home so much that she expected the detective to stuff her into the back of the car and drive her home. Her father would send the sheriff after her whenever she was late.
The cop’s tone was softer now when he asked his questions. “Can I have your name?”
Maybe he’d realized that he was scaring the crap out of her.
“Harmony Taylor, T, A, Y, L, O, R.”
“Got it. And your address and phone number?”
“It’s that unit over there.” She pointed, then shook her head and rattled off the full address and the apartment number even though it was on the parking spot.
