Page 74 of Frost and Venom

She went out onto the porch, Misha trailing behind her. Her little beagle was used to Harlow’s often sleepless nights, and, as usual, she made her way to the warmth of the circular dog bed sitting very close to the swing where Harlow curled up.

Harlow scratched Misha’s head between her ears, murmuring softly to her. “You’re such a good girl, Misha. You never complain when I come out here, and you’re not in the least bit interested in whether or not we can see the stars. You just want to sleep.”

Misha yawned and closed her eyes, not once looking up at the sky overhead. It was a crisp, cool night, with every star vying for attention. The night sky was just one of the many things Harlow loved. The positioning of her home and the wide wraparound porch afforded her a stunning view of the stars. Even when it was raining, the view was magnificent. The drops would appear as silver streaks falling from above, creating a misty veil with the mountains as a backdrop.

The view from her porch gave her a sense of serenity, of peace. She knew Wilder was beginning to feel the same way. He had a habit of checking all the security cameras and walking around the house before settling on the porch swing with her, but when he was there, she felt the tension ease right out of him. He came out of the house, placed a mug of hot chocolate on the little end table, dropped a kiss on top of her head, gave Misha a pat and stepped off the porch to execute his usual security measures.

Harlow dropped into the swing and took a sip of the chocolate. Wilder always added whipped cream when he made her chocolate late at night, which she loved but often avoided because of the extra calories. She didn’t know why, when he topped off her chocolate with whipped cream, she felt loved and cared for, but she did.

It didn’t take Wilder long to complete his security check. He took the seat beside her, and she handed him the mug of chocolate. He never made a drink for himself, but sometimes he’d take a sip or two from hers. She noticed if she offered, he always took her up on it, and his eyes would light up. Those strangely colored, almost crystal light green eyes that could appear silver at times. She loved his eyes and the intensity in them when his gaze settled on her.

“Something’s bothering you, mon rêve. Share, please.”

Harlow felt her stomach muscles knot. She knew she had to broach the subject with him. She didn’t want to be one of those women who said they loved a man and then insisted that man change. She loved Wilder. He’d been very up front with her about who and what he was. But she also had to be true to herself.

As if he was reading her discomfort—and he most likely was—Wilder slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her tight against him until she was nestled against his ribs and thigh. He reached for the blanket he’d brought out and tucked that around the two of them, building a cocoon for them.

“You’re safe, Harlow. You can tell me anything.”

She wasn’t as certain as he was. She’d held back her opinions for years, mainly because she’d learned that anything she said to her parents, teachers, or their security, could cause her to suffer major consequences. In this case, she feared she would lose Wilder. That was a huge consequence. On the other hand, she didn’t want to live in fear of that loss. Or find herself silent when she wanted to speak up. She didn’t want to be that woman either, one totally losing herself in order to keep a man.

“Babe.” Wilder’s voice was gentler than ever. His fingers found the nape of her neck and began that slow massage he did to help ease the tension from her. “You’re safe with me.”

She wanted to believe that. And she absolutely had to be true to herself. She was never going to compromise who she really was and be happy.

“I haven’t quite come up with the right approach,” she admitted.

“I appreciate you trying to be thoughtful of my reactions to your opinions, sweetheart, but it isn’t necessary to soften any blow. I can take it. In fact, the truth is, I’ve learned to set aside emotion and depend on logic in most situations. You’re important to me. How you think and what you’re feeling is important to me. If something is bothering you to this extent, especially if I’m the cause, I not only want to know what it is, I need to know.”

How could she not love him? He accepted her, seemed to love her unconditionally. She wanted to accept him the same way, with unconditional love. She didn’t want him to think she didn’t…but…

She took a deep breath and forced herself to make the confession. “I can’t condone Rainier going to Rafferty’s home to kill him. As much as I didn’t like the man, I don’t think what he did warranted killing him.”

Wilder’s eyebrow rose. “Babe. Really? Rafferty was corrupt as hell, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would physically harm you or Shabina or any of the other women we consider family. Why would you think Rainier would kill him when Bale is walking around alive and well? Bale actually did threaten Shabina on several occasions, tried to implicate her in a murder, and he’s quite capable of carrying out his threats. But he’s alive. That should tell you something.”

Harlow had to admit Bale had threatened Shabina on several occasions. “But Rainier went to Rafferty’s home in the middle of the night.” And she worried, absolutely, that Wilder would have done the exact same thing. She was coward enough that she didn’t come out and say it, but she knew he was perceptive enough to know what she was actually concerned about.

Wilder’s demeanor didn’t change in the least. In fact, he remained perfectly relaxed. She couldn’t sense any tension in him whatsoever. His fingers continued to work on the knots in her neck without the slightest hesitation. Harlow had deliberately tilted her head as she spoke so she could look into his eyes. She needed to see his reaction. His light green eyes continued to hold that soft look of love that seemed to wash over and through her, drowning her in the sensation of well-being.

“Didn’t I tell you that we don’t ever kill innocents? We go out of our way to gather proof that whoever we go after has committed a terrible crime and has escaped justice. We don’t just decide we don’t like someone and end them.” His tone was low. Even. Not at all defensive. He wasn’t belligerent or hostile. He made a soft inquiry, and then his statement.

Wilder had told her that he didn’t ever kill an innocent, but then Rafferty wasn’t exactly innocent. “Then why would Rainier go to Rafferty’s home in the dead of night?”

“Just because he goes there doesn’t mean his intention is to kill him. Babe, you have to understand and really believe, we don’t ever kill an innocent.”

“He isn’t so innocent,” she insisted. “He was so corrupt it wasn’t funny. In the beginning, he would just make evidence disappear if Bale was involved in something. But lately, it’s been so much worse. He actually lied to the FBI agents about Shabina in the middle of investigating ritual killings. Along with Bale, he tried to throw suspicion on Shabina instead of trying to find out who was actually committing the murders. That’s not innocence.” She didn’t know if she was trying to defend Rainier’s actions, or what she believed Wilder might have chosen to do if he were the one to confront Rafferty.

“But Rafferty isn’t a killer,” Wilder reiterated. “He was being investigated, and eventually the law would have caught up with him. If we went around assassinating every corrupt official, there would be no government, most likely in any country.”

Harlow had to agree with him. She believed most politicians started out with the intention of doing good, but along the way, they had to compromise so much in order to get whatever they felt was necessary that in the end they all became used to the bribes and double-dealing.

“Are you saying Rainier was there just to talk to him?”

He nodded. “Had Rainier not been talking to him, I would have been. What he did was unacceptable, both to you and to Shabina. So, yeah, honey, he absolutely warranted a talk.”

“In the middle of the night?”

He gave her that boyish grin that was so rare but transformed his face from tough and ruggedly handsome to a softer, younger look. “Psychological advantage. We look damn scary coming silently into your bedroom, proving we can get to you anytime we want.”