Hard to Handle by Lori Foster Page B

admired a woman for her courage.
    â€œThe garage doors are bolted from the inside, so they’re secure. You could put something—a can or anything that’ll clatter—up by the windows and the door around back.”
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œHere.” He handed her the flashlight. “Take this with you. I’ll check the front desk for another one.”
    The beam of light hit him in the face, making him wince before she lowered it. “How can you see to search the desk if I have the flashlight?”
    â€œMy eyes will adjust. I have good night vision.”
    Her long sigh echoed in the quiet garage. “I’m convinced you have good everything. It’s almost disgusting, how good you are at everything.” With that remark, she turned to do as he asked, and Harley tracked her progress by the movement of the light.
    It didn’t take him long to locate a heavy-duty security light on a shelf behind the desk. He also found matches, but no candles.
    Because he preferred to be prepared rather than taken off guard, he went on the assumption that the men would be back, and if they returned, he needed a plan.
    He didn’t want to alarm Stasia, so while she was off barring the entrances, he searched out a good place for them to rest, away from the windows and anyone who might peek in.
    Ned had a small employee break room with a coffeepot set up on a rectangular table, and another round table with four plastic chairs around it. Against one wall was an aged leather recliner. It was a little on the grimy side, but it’d hold them both.
    That is, if Anastasia could be convinced to bed down with him.
    The room offered the convenience of a john and no windows for prying eyes.
    It’d be safe enough.
    On the round table, Harley set out the supplies he’d brought along and all the change he had. In his tote, he had the basic necessities: toothbrush, razor, soap, clean socks and boxers. The vending machines would supply snack-type food.
    Peeling off his hooded sweatshirt, he laid it over a plastic chair to dry. He stowed the toiletries in the bathroom, readjusted both guns in his waistband, and went to check on Stasia. He found her still bundled head to toes in her outerwear, stacking empty oil cans on the windowsills. The flashlight that she held in her teeth trembled.
    â€œGood job.”
    She glanced at him, then took the flashlight out of her mouth. “Thanks. I put a chair against the door, but also sat some cans there.”
    Physically, she looked on the ragged edge. Other than a bright red nose and cheeks, her skin was pale, her lips chapped. Exhaustion darkened the skin beneath her usually bright eyes.
    But emotionally, she had the same strength he’d noted in her before.
    He held out a hand. “Come here.”
    Using the flashlight, she checked her security measures one last time, then joined him. “It’s warmer in here, but I’m not ready to lose your coat. Sorry.”
    He didn’t yet tell her that more than the coat was going to have to come off before she’d get warm. Wet layers wouldn’t warm her; shared body heat would.
    â€œI found a place for us to settle in for the night. There’s a coffee machine, so if the electricity comes back on, we’ll be in business.”
    â€œIt won’t.” Because he held a flashlight, she turned hers off and dropped it in the pocket of his coat. “It’s usually out for a day or longer.”
    With an arm around her, Harley led her toward the break room. “At least the vending machines are loaded with candy and chips, and they’re so old, they don’t run on electricity.”
    â€œThe cola machine does.”
    He glanced down at her. “If you want a Coke, I can get it for you.”
    â€œThe same way you got the door open?”
    She didn’t sound accusing so much as curious. “I learned some useful talents when I was younger.”
    â€œI can