“We'll sit out here with Lyon and goof off until he's done, cheer him on, and we'll make a big deal of counting all the shell casings.” Nasa gave Dillon's neck a gentle squeeze before putting his beer down to take Harper from Raid, his smile softening when Harper smacked his face and yanked on his hair.
Nasa blew a raspberry on Harper's throat, and the sound of Harper's wild giggles were pure joy.
A loud chime sounded from one of Nasa's pockets, and a quick glance at his watch had him frowning. “Will you hold her for a minute?”
“Oh, I don't know—” Dillon had to put her hands out because Nasa was already handing Harper over.
Thankfully, Harper was easy, reaching out to wrap her arms around Dillon's neck the same way she'd done to Top the day Dillon first came to the compound.
Harper snuggled down with a soft coo, giggling again when Elka leaned in to gently investigate the small creature clinging to her mistress.
Harper smelled like cherries and oatmeal, her bushy head of red gold curls shimmering in the fading light. She was heavy— a good sort of heavy— relaxed, and warm.
The urge to squish Harper's chunky baby thighs where they hung out from her cute denim skirt with ruffles on it was irresistible, and obviously not a new experience for Harper.
Her skin felt softer than rose petals, and Dillon found herself savoring the sweetness of the moment. Not long later, Harper let out a little snore.
She'd fallen asleep.
It was a humbling feeling to know Harper felt safe enough in Dillon's arms to sleep, and it made Dillon compare the baby's reaction to Dillon's instinctual reactions to Nasa.
Harper didn't know Dillon. She wasn't a familiar face around the compound or someone Ever socialized with on the regular, and yet Harper still fell asleep in strange arms.
Was it because Harper knew her family was close and wouldn't allow her to be held by unworthy hands? Or did she sense something instinctively about Dillon that had her reaching out so trustingly?
Dillon pondered the questions for a time, but in the end, it didn't matter.
The fact was, Dillon felt safe with Nasa in the same way Harper felt safe with him.
He handled the kids with obvious love and affection, he protected his family, and talked about teaching Lyon responsibility and safety with confidence and dedication as an uncle.
Nasa was kind and thoughtful toward animals, and in those actions proved himself to be a good man. The kind of man a woman could trust.
The kind of man Dillon could trust.
“Dillon, do you know a woman named Patti Bowers?” Nasa asked, his tone tight with suspicion.
Dillon looked up at him, the contentment she'd felt in holding Harper swallowed in a sickening rush of dread.
“She runs the women’s shelter I helped build in Dallas. Why? Did something happen to her? Is she okay?”
“She just filed a missing person’s report with your name on it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Nasa hustled Dillon inside to deal with this latest problem, and when Dillon tried to pass Harper off to Ever, Dillon was happily informed, “House rule: if the baby falls asleep on you, she's yours until she wakes up.”
Dillon was pretty sure that house rule was bullshit, but when Ever gave her a salacious wink and grabbed her husband by his belt-buckle to drag him inside, Dillon got the message.
With both their kids otherwise occupied, Ever and Roar had the opportunity for some... togetherness.
So, Dillon retained possession of her sleeping passenger, walking smoothly and carefully through the compound so as not to disturb Harper.
Focusing on the task distracted Dillon from the anxiety brought on by wondering what could have possibly prompted Patti to file a missing person’s report.
Dillon made her way down the stairs to the basement, one arm carefully keeping Harper pressed to her chest, the other hand firmly gripping the railing just in case, taking one step at a time.
When she finally made her way to the bottom, Nasa was there with a soft, amused smirk on his face.
More than a little flustered by the warmth in his expression, Dillon demandingly whispered, “What?”
Nasa clicked his tongue and uttered a single husky word. “Basorexia.”
Arousal spread through her body like a flash fire, and all Dillon could do was stand there and fight the urge to drop her gaze to his mouth.
She failed.
In answer, Nasa made a satisfied noise, sauntered over to his big bed, and pulled some pillows down to make a little nest.
“You can lay Harper down here; she won't wake up for at least an hour.”
Dillon nodded, but after a few steps toward the bed, feeling Harper's soft breaths on her throat and the fluttering thump of her heartbeat beneath the hand Dillon had on her back, letting go became difficult.
“Something wrong?”
Dillon shook her head, turning to rest her cheek on Harper's soft hair. “No. Do I have to put her down? I mean, she just seems really comfortable and I um... I don't mind. Unless you need me to do something that requires both hands.”
His grin turned rather salacious in response to the unintentionally suggestive nature of her question. Dillon was really on a role with this flirting thing.
“I don't need you to do anything yet. I'm going to get into the DPD records and do a little digging. Are you close with this woman who filed the MP?”
Dillon shrugged, watching Nasa stride across the room to take possession of his command chair, fingers flying over three different keyboards, his computers waking up and filling with pages of data and information. She followed, standing over his shoulder to watch him work his magic.
“You're hacking into official police records?” Dillon guffawed incredulously.
Nasa nodded, reaching forward to grab a handful of jelly beans out of a huge cut crystal dish.
“It's what I do. Don't worry, I won't get caught.”
“I wasn't worried. DARPA wouldn't have hired you without some mad computer skills; it's just the principle.” Dillon huffed, wondering what else
