Hard to Handle by Lori Foster Page A

she’d gone on automatic pilot, reacting despite her fear to come to his rescue against a loaded gun, would have made Harley smile if his lips didn’t feel stiff from the freezing temps. It didn’t matter that her help was unnecessary, or that she’d botched the attempt by running the Jeep off the road.
    She’d cared enough to try.
    After they crossed the lot, Anastasia tried to make a beeline for the front door. “No.” Harley led her toward a small copse of trees that helped block the wind. He tucked the blanket around her. “Wait right here while I check it out.”
    She groaned.
    â€œI know, I’m sorry. But I want to make sure no one beat us here.”
    â€œI should go with you. Just in case.”
    â€œJust in case what? Trust me, I’ll be more able to handle an ambush without worrying about you.” He withdrew one of the guns and pressed it into her gloved hand. “Know how to use this?”
    She shook her head.
    â€œRelease the safety.” He showed her how. “Then just aim and shoot. Usually that’s enough whether you hit anyone or not. Just make sure it’s not me before you pull the trigger, okay?”
    She groaned again and dropped her head against his chest. “I’m miserable, Harley.”
    â€œI know. Me, too. It won’t be much longer now, I promise.” He tipped up her face. “I know you’re tired, honey, but stay alert for me, okay?”
    When she nodded agreement, Harley kissed her forehead…then the bridge of her nose…and because he couldn’t stop himself, her mouth.
    The touch was brief, and given the numbness from the cold, almost imperceptible. But her eyes opened a little wider, reassuring him.
    He forced himself to walk away.
    He couldn’t remember ever being so cold, but for now he couldn’t let it matter.
    Maneuvering through the dark, he went around to the back of the building. He couldn’t see any footprints, but with very little light and the constantly falling snow, that wasn’t surprising.
    The door felt secure, as did two high windows and a lift garage door. Harley put his ear to a window and listened, but heard nothing. The windows were frosted over, so he couldn’t see inside.
    He went back around front and checked those doors, too. Far as he could tell, everything remained secure. Using the screwdriver he’d brought with him, he jimmied the lock and got the door open. The narrow beam of his flashlight bounced off a cracked vinyl seating area, a desk, two ancient vending machines, an interior door, and another lift garage door.
    He held the gun in his hand and as quickly as possible did a quick surveillance inside.
    Clear.
    The furnace had died with the electricity, but the station would shelter them from the howling wind.

    C IRCLING around to the side, Harley found Anastasia hunkered down on her haunches, her knees up to her chin, her arms around her legs. She stared straight ahead and she had the gun at the ready.
    Softly, so he wouldn’t startle her, he said, “Anastasia?”
    She jumped to her feet—thank God she didn’t shoot him. In fact, she handed the gun back to him with alacrity. “We can go in now?”
    Poor thing. He pulled her close. “Yeah, we can go in.”
    She moved ahead of him, rushing into the garage. Harley followed. He was tired and cold, and the thought of removing frozen layers tempted him. But first things first. He closed the door and as a precaution stacked some heavy tires against it.
    Close behind him, Stasia asked, “What are you doing?”
    â€œI’m blocking the entrances so if anyone tries to get in, we’ll be forewarned.”
    â€œHow can I help?”
    Surprised, Harley glanced at her. Her voice shivered as badly as her body; she’d been through too much. But she looked determined to lend a hand.
    His admiration grew. Damn it, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d