Chapter Four
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The cruiser was silent on the ride back to the station. Silent except for the faint hiss of the heater and the occasional static burst from the radio. Ryker kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting lightly against his thigh, knuckles scraped raw from diving behind rocks and shrapnel.
Emma and he were both covered in grime. Bruised. Spent.
And pissed.
Whoever had set up that oil field ambush hadn’t just tried to kill them, they’d wiped out evidence.
Anything the CSIs might’ve used to trace the shooter or the explosives was either buried in rubble or charred to ash.
Now the forensics team was stuck picking over twisted metal and scorched brush, trying to make sense of a scene someone had designed to be senseless.
Emma hadn’t said a word since they’d started the drive back. But Ryker didn’t need her to. He felt the stew of emotions radiating off her. Tight anger, shaken nerves and fury wrapped in shame. Shame because she was still no doubt blaming herself for all of this.
By the time they reached the station and pushed through the back door, the weight of it all was crashing down on both of them. Ryker didn’t lead her toward the squad room. Instead, he maneuvered her toward the cold case office. Somewhere private. Quiet.
Emma stepped inside first, her movements stiff. As soon as the door shut behind them, she braced her hands against the table, her head down as if gravity had finally won.
Ryker crossed the room in two strides. He didn’t say a word. Just pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist. Didn’t speak.
Not at first anyway.
He felt the tremor run through her, subtle in the beginning, then harder. Her fists clenched against his chest, and she let out a breath that sounded more like a choked sob.
Then the words came, sharp and low. “Dammit. I hate this. I hate feeling this shaken.”
Her voice cracked at the edges, like she wanted to bite the words back the second they escaped.
Ryker didn’t let go.
“Getting rattled after someone tries to turn you into fireworks doesn’t make you weak,” he murmured against her hair. “It makes you sane. Personally, I screamed like hell, just internally and very heroically.”
His attempt at humor was a win. Well, for a heartbeat or two anyway. Emma attempted a smile, but then she shook her head. “I can’t afford to fall apart.”
“You’re not,” he said quietly. “You’re still standing.”
And he was going to make damn sure she stayed that way.
There was a knock at the door, sharp, quick, and businesslike.
Emma stepped back from him instantly, scrubbing a hand over her face like she could erase the moment. Ryker let her go, but he didn’t move far. Didn’t want to.
The door creaked open, and Sheriff Hallie McQueen stepped inside, taking one look at them before arching a brow.
“I’m not going to ask how you’re doing,” she said, her tone flat. “It’s obvious you look like hell. How bad?”
Ryker straightened and rolled his shoulder, wincing a little at the ache blooming there. “Just scrapes and bruises. Nothing deep.”
Hallie crossed her arms. “You two get checked out by the EMTs?”
Emma answered before he could. “No need. We weren’t caught in the blast, just the debris.”
“Uh-huh.” Hallie gave them both a look that said she wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t argue. “You both need showers. And probably about eight hours of sleep.”
“Fair enough,” Ryker muttered. But he doubted they’d be getting the sleep any time soon.
Hallie’s expression didn’t change as she continued. “Bomb squad finished their sweep twenty minutes ago. Scene’s cleared. CSIs and the ME are heading in now to see if there’s anything left of the body that’s usable for an ID.”
“He was wearing Ethan’s ring,” Emma volunteered.
Hallie looked at her. “Do you think it was him?”
Emma paused. Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “I don’t know.”
The room went still for a beat. Then Hallie added, “I’ve got something else for your evidence board.”
That got their attention, and Emma and Ryker both looked up.
“Charlotte Ross doesn’t live in Santa Fe,” Hallie said. “That was true four years ago. Not anymore. She’s been living in Austin for at least the last six months. Forty-five minutes away. My advice is to get her in for a proper interview.”
Hallie turned to go, but then she paused at the door. “I’ll put together a team to bring her in quietly. You two, take that shower. You look like you crawled out of a ditch.”
“Just an oil field,” Ryker muttered.
The sheriff groaned at the lame joke, and then she was gone, leaving the silence to settle again.
Ryker leaned against the edge of the table, watching Emma. For a long second, the only sound was the low hum of the digital wall screen behind them, still glowing with case files and fragments of a life that kept circling back to Emma.
“Did you ever have the sense that Ethan was… around?” he asked. “After he disappeared, I mean?”
Emma didn’t answer right away. She dropped into one of the chairs and stared at the evidence board like it might offer her something new.
Then she nodded. “There were moments. Not anything I could prove. Just… things.”
“Like what?”
She hesitated. “A boyfriend I dated for a few months got mugged outside my apartment building. Nothing taken. He ended up with a concussion and a busted rib. The guy wore a ski mask. No one saw his face.”
Ryker felt a chill snake down his spine. “And you think it was Ethan?”
“I thought it could be.” She lifted one shoulder in a shrug, but the movement was tight. “Or someone acting on his behalf. Then there was another guy, just a casual thing. One date, dinner, and a movie. A week later, his car got set on fire outside his gym.”
Ryker’s jaw clenched. “Jesus.”
“I couldn’t prove anything. I told myself it was coincidence. Bad luck. But after a while… I stopped seeing people.”
Ryker stayed quiet a moment, then said, “Sounds to me like someone didn’t want you getting too close to anybody. Didn’t want you happy. Didn’t want you moving on.” His tone was low, edged with quiet fury. “If that was him… then he wasn’t just watching you. He was punishing you.”
Emma didn’t look at him, but he saw the flicker in her expression. Saw how those words hit, like they landed on something too raw to hide.
“I think that’s exactly what he wanted,” she said quietly as they both sat at the desk. “To make sure I was stuck. Alone. Punishing myself for something I didn’t even do.”
Ryker crossed to her and crouched beside the chair so they were eye level.
“Well, he screwed that up too,” he assured her. “Because you’re not alone.”
Emma’s phone buzzed on the table. She didn’t reach for it right away, just stared at the screen like she was bracing for another hit.
Ryker leaned a little closer, caught the name: Mom.
She finally picked it up and answered. “Hey.”
Her mom’s voice carried enough for him to hear, and it was soft and tight with worry. “Are you all right? We heard about the explosion. Your father saw it on the news, and—”
“I’m okay,” Emma said, cutting in gently. She rubbed her forehead, fatigue settling into every movement. “Bruised, not broken.”
“They said someone opened fire on you, Emma. They said it might be Ethan? Is it really him?”
Ryker watched her eyes go distant, heard her voice go flat when she answered, “We don’t know. Not for sure. But… yeah. It could be.”
“We’re driving back tonight,” her mom immediately insisted. “I don’t care what your father says. We’re not sitting around while someone’s trying to kill you.”
“No,” Emma blurted, her tone sharper than before. “Don’t come back. Stay in Houston. If it is Ethan, I don’t want him anywhere near you. I don’t want him thinking he can use you to get to me.”
Ryker heard the silence on the other end of the line. Heard the pain in it, too, even from a distance.
“All right,” her mom finally replied. “But you keep us updated, Em. Hourly if you have to.”
“I will,” she murmured. “I promise.”
Emma ended the call and let the phone slide from her hand to the table. Then she leaned back, exhaled slowly.
Ryker didn’t say anything right away. Just stood with her in the quiet.
Because there wasn’t a damn thing fair about the world turning into a war zone again, and dragging her parents into the blast radius.
“My folks are worried about me,” she muttered.
Emma rested her elbows on the table, rubbing her hands together like she could shake off the call. Her phone sat dark and quiet again, but the weight of it still seemed to hang in the air.
“My folks are worried sick,” she added after a minute, her voice quieter now.
Ryker gave a faint nod. “Yeah. I got that.”
She looked over at him, something softer in her expression. “What about your parents? Are they around?”
He leaned back in his chair, stretching one leg out and trying to ease the stiffness creeping into his side. “Yes. Still kicking. Both of ’em were career military, Army. Met during a joint training operation in Germany, fell in love yelling at recruits. Real storybook stuff.”
Emma arched a brow. “Sounds romantic.”
He smirked. “Only if your idea of romance involves live ammo and field rations.”
That earned the tiniest huff of a laugh from her, and Ryker took it as a win.
“They’re retired now,” he added. “Consultants at the Pentagon. Which basically means they sit in very secure rooms and predict how bad things are gonna get before they actually get bad.”
Emma tilted her head. “So… you think they already know what’s about to happen to us?”
“Oh, definitely,” Ryker said dryly. “Wouldn’t surprise me if my mom’s got a color-coded threat board with our names on it and some arrows pointing to ‘Possible Shitstorm in Outlaw Ridge.’”
Emma snorted, and for a second, the weight lifted.
He watched the way she relaxed, just slightly. He hadn’t known he needed to hear her laugh, until he did.
Ryker let the last of the tension fade with Emma’s snort of laughter. It didn’t last long, but it was real, and right now, real felt like gold.