"This?" Darien asked as he waved the list she’d given him at the pile of stuff. "This came from a couple houses we've…ah, inventoried.”
"The HOA board is concerned that we haven't gotten a fair share of the…inventory."
"Fair enough, but the board hasn't given me a list of the supplies that need to be delivered, either. Unless they're willing to carry out this hare-brained plan on their own…me and my boys are going to be the ones to do all the heavy lifting. Not only are we gathering all this stuff, but we’ll be the ones expected to deliver it in the dead of night, so nobody knows where it comes from.” He shook his head. “Until they get me a list of where it's going…” He shrugged. "Just makes sense to have it all here, I guess."
Harriet nodded. "I agree. You can't trust the board…half of them would take everything and leave the rest of the neighborhood to starve, if they could."
"You sure don't have a very high opinion of the board. These are supposed to be your friends and neighbors, right?"
Harriet cleared her throat and looked away. "Well…in the beginning things were nice I suppose…but now?” She waved away his concern with a flick of her wrist. "I have to admit, the amount you've turned over for us at the clubhouse…compared to this,” she said with a gesture at the pile of looted goods. "It sure doesn't look…equitable."
"Well,” Darien said, as he tapped his lips with the pencil. "I tell you what—since you’ve helped us so much, how about I give you a little extra," he said. He bent down and handed her some of the fanciest shampoo they'd uncovered so far.
She smiled as she took the bottle and examined it. "This is lovely, thank you…but it's too much," she said, and tried to hand back the bottle.
Darien refused and crossed his arms. "It's the least I can do…and I'll make sure you get an extra package of toilet paper, and some canned food, next time.”
Harriet nodded and looked down at the shampoo in her hands. "Why are you being nice to me?" she asked. "When we first met, those…associates…of yours looked like they wanted to…”
"They did," Darien growled. "But we've been over that…I won’t allow them to do whatever they want, not so long as I'm in charge.” He sighed. “But I don't know how long I'll be able to keep them in check."
Harriet took a step closer to him and tucked a stray lock of hair over her ear again. "I don't know if I’ve said this before, but I'm grateful for what you did. I appreciate your…” she bit her lower lip, “protection."
It was Darien’s turn to blush. "Well…I…” He coughed, and she smiled, then took a step closer. "Why are you doing this?" he whispered. "You're married, aren’t you?”
"A thief with a conscience and morals?" Harriet purred. "Yes, I’m married…but it was one of convenience for both of us. He offered me a lifestyle that would suit my tastes, and I offered him the arm candy he needed for his career. Once he got his big promotion…” She shrugged. "He spent more time at the bank and in the CEOs man cave than he did in my bed.” She took another step closer, and their bodies almost touched. "He was okay," she said in a low, husky voice. "But when everything fell apart, and I needed him…really needed him to protect me for the first time in our marriage…where was he? Where is he now?" She smiled at him. "But you…without even knowing me, you stepped up and did more for me than Henry’s done in the past ten years."
Darien tried to smile, but found his confidence flagging under the predatory gaze of Mrs. Harriet Spalding. He swallowed. "I don't think I did anything special…”
"Oh, but you did," she cooed, and traced one delicate finger down Darien’s shoulder. The touch sent electric ripples up his spine. "You're dangerous," Harriet murmured. "And that's exciting—I’ve lived a very boring life for the past twenty years.”
"I think the whole world is dangerous right now," Darien said. "I'm just trying to carve out a little piece for myself."
"If I was to help you…” she whispered as her finger traced across Darien's chest and lingered on the buttons of his shirt. "Would you carve out a piece for me?"
Darien smiled. "I'm open to negotiations…”
"I know you said to find out which houses might have supplies or drugs…medicinal or recreational…” she said under her breath. "But I might've found something even better."
"Oh?" he asked as Harriet's fingertip brushed the stubble-covered skin of his face. "What…” Darien cleared his throat and started again. "What's that?"
“There's a woman—her husband hasn't come back from…wherever he is," she said dismissively. "She’s got a daughter home from college—lives next to that old man I warned you about. She goes camping for a living…or something. But I know she has guns. She's been wearing a pistol on her hip for the past few days."
"Is that a fact?" asked Darien.
"It is," Harriet murmured. Her fingertips caressed Darien’s cheek. "She's flagrantly violating the HOA rule against carrying weapons around in plain sight. It's like she's daring us to make a move against her. She’s evidently good friends with the neighborhood poster child for poverty, Mia Stevens.”
Darien frowned. “That name sounds familiar. Where does she live, this Mia Stevens?"
Harriet stepped back and waved away his question with a dismissive hand. "Oh, I wouldn’t know—somewhere on Archer Street, I think. She's another one that's by herself—well, she's got two small kids. The house down the street from her was inventoried the other night."
The pieces fit together in Darien’s mind with an almost audible click. It had to be the same woman Lopez had mentioned. He nodded. "And this gun-toting
