Chapter 28 Ryker #2
“Will you see that she gets home okay?” Faith asked, her worried gaze meeting mine.
Of course she’d ask that.
“Fine,” I said.
Harper looked like she wanted to protest but was too tired to argue. Or maybe too scared. She let me walk her to the bungalow next door, the night air crisp and cold.
“I really am sorry about the lamp,” Harper said as we walked. “I may have gotten carried away.”
“You were protecting your friend.”
“She’s not really my friend. I just moved in yesterday. But she invited me in just because I was scared …” Her voice caught. “Nobody’s been that kind to me in a very long time.”
My throat tightened. That was Faith. Opening her door and her heart to someone in pain, even when her own world was falling apart.
“The lamp assault was actually pretty impressive,” I admitted. “Good form. Excellent follow-through.”
Harper laughed, a surprised sound. “I played softball in high school.”
We reached her door, and she fumbled with her keys.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I came on too strong. I just … Faith means a lot to me.”
“More than almost-maybe?” Harper asked, a small smile playing at her lips.
“Way more than almost-maybe.”
“I get it.” Harper’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re protecting her. She needs that. Even if she won’t admit it.”
“If you need help—”
“I don’t think anyone can help me.” She paused, then added, “But Faith tried anyway. That’s … that’s everything.” She slipped inside before I could respond, the dead bolt clicking with finality.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the closed door. Wondering what I could do to help Harper.
After retrieving the scattered takeout containers, I headed back inside, where Faith was slumped over her kitchen table, head pillowed on her folded arms, soft snores escaping her parted lips.
My chest tightened painfully at the sight. She looked so innocent. Her dark lashes fanned across wine-flushed cheeks, her hair falling in waves around her face.
She didn’t look like a cold-blooded killer. She looked like a woman who’d had too much wine and laughed too hard with a friend.
The doubt from my conversation with Knox felt like a lead weight in my stomach.
“Do you believe her?”
Watching her now—vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful—I wanted to. God, I wanted to believe every word she’d said. Wanted to trust that the woman who’d opened her home to a scared stranger wasn’t capable of premeditated murder.
But wanting something didn’t make it true.
I scooped her into my arms, and she immediately curled against my chest, warm and soft and smelling like wine.
“What are you doing?” she murmured against my neck.
“Taking you to bed.”
“Mmm …” Her lips curved in a sleepy smile, and she began playing with the hair at my nape. “I like that idea.”
When I laid her down on her rumpled sheets, she grabbed a fistful of my shirt and pulled me closer.
“Faith …”
“Stay.” Her voice was husky, her eyes half lidded.
“You’re drunk.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that I want you.” Her free hand trailed down my arm, fingers tracing the muscle there with intent focus. “Wanted you before the wine. Want you after the wine. The wine just made me brave enough to say it.”
Heat shot through me like lightning. My pants grew uncomfortably tight. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women.”
“I’m consenting.” She leaned up until her lips hovered inches from mine. “I want you. Tell me you don’t feel the same.”
I groaned, every selfish instinct screaming at me to give in. To taste those lips, to bury myself so deep inside her that nothing else existed.
But I gently pushed her shoulders back to the mattress instead.
“Get some sleep, Warrior.”
She pouted, those full lips forming the most tempting expression. “You’re no fun.”
“Trust me, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” And that was the truth. My erection strained painfully against my zipper, protesting every word.
I pulled the covers over her, then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, breathing in her scent. “I’m spending the night.”
“You said you didn’t want to stay over,” she mumbled into her pillow.
“First of all, I never said I didn’t want this.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Second, you left your door unlocked. You’re in no condition to keep yourself safe tonight.”
“So, you’re staying?”
“On the couch.”
She smiled, her eyes already drifting closed. “My knight in shining armor. With great abs.”
“Go to sleep, Faith.”
“Ryker?”
“Yeah?”
“You know when Blake first mentioned you? Years ago?” Her words were slurring. “I looked you up online. You know … research.”
I raised an eyebrow, even though her eyes were closed. “Research.”
“Mmhmm. And you know what I thought?”
“What?”
“That you were hottttt.” She drew out the word. “Like, stupidly hot. I told Blake his friends weren’t allowed to look like that.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Liquor. The ultimate truth serum.”
“Best truth serum ever,” she mumbled, a sleepy giggle escaping. Then she went quiet for a moment, her fingers tracing absent patterns on the comforter. When she spoke again, her voice had lost its playful edge. “Want another truth?”
Something in her tone made me pause.
“I wouldn’t have killed him,” she said suddenly, her eyes opening to meet mine.
Glassy with tears but somehow clearer than I’d ever seen them.
“Not on purpose. I know that. I’m not that kind of person.
” Her voice cracked. “I threatened him, but I was just trying to scare him away. Just wanted him to leave me alone. To leave the kids alone. I just … I wanted him gone, but not like that. Never like that.”
The raw honesty in her voice, the desperation, made me realize this wasn’t manipulation. This was truth, unfiltered and devastating.
“I believe you.” And I realized I meant it.
The doubt that had been choking me suddenly loosened its grip.
Like I’d been holding my breath since Knox asked that question, and I could finally exhale.
This was Faith. MY Faith. The woman who shared wine with a stranger with a black eye.
Who inspired loyalty so fierce that a woman she’d just met would assault a man with a lamp to defend her honor.
How could I have doubted her?
The relief was overwhelming, followed immediately by something else. Something that terrified me more than any case ever had.
I was falling for her.
No, that was wrong. I’d already fallen. Past tense. Completely, irrevocably done. The doubt had just been keeping me from admitting it.
Her eyes searched mine, looking for doubt, for judgment. “Really? You believe me?”
“Really.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Now get some sleep.”
She caught my hand before I could pull away. She held it for a moment. “Thank you for believing me. No one ever … no one’s ever just believed me before.”
My throat tightened. She’d spent her whole life having to prove herself worthy of trust, of love. Having to earn what should have been freely given.
Not anymore. Not with me.
“Ryker?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m really glad you’re here.” Her voice was soft, vulnerable. “Even if you are a grumpy almost-maybe boyfriend with an angry face.”
Despite everything, I smiled. “Get some sleep.”
Her breathing evened out within seconds, and I stood there, watching her for longer than I should have. Memorizing the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes cast shadows in the dim light, the peaceful expression that made her look like she didn’t have a care in the world.
Tomorrow, reality would come crashing back. The case. The trial. The impossible odds stacked against us.
But tonight, I could pretend that she was just a woman I was falling for. Had fallen for. Currently in the middle of falling. Whatever.
Not a client. Not a case. Not someone accused of murder.
Just Faith.
And maybe that made me a fool.
But watching her sleep, hearing her drunken confession echoing in my mind—“I wouldn’t have killed him. Not on purpose”—I realized something fundamental had shifted.
The doubt was fully gone.
Not because I had proof. Not because the evidence had changed.
But because I’d looked into her eyes and seen the truth.
She wasn’t a killer.
She was a survivor who’d finally fought back.
And I’d be damned if I let anyone make her pay for it.
Little did I know that someone powerful was about to show up in the morning. With a brand new plan to bury her …