22. Harper
22
Harper
L ying in bed, with birds chirping and Paul’s arms around her, Harper sighed contently despite how sore she felt. He’d fucked her in every position possible, and some she swore weren’t. It was one hell of a way to learn just how flexible she was. What she wouldn’t give to shut out reality and remain in bumfuck Oklahoma, screwing Paul until the end of time.
Hell, she might even consider kids, a white picket fence, and chickens. It was a farm, after all.
If she weren’t facing potential death, she might laugh at the absurdity of that thought.
Unfortunately, life didn’t work that way. An annoying thought itched the back of her brain. As much as she didn’t want to ruin their postcoital moment, she had to say it.
Closing her eyes, enjoying the feel of his sweet kisses against her neck, she sighed. “I want to check in with my dad.”
He stiffened against her.
“I told him I’d call him before I got on my plane,” she explained. “My flight was hours ago. He has to know something is wrong.”
At least she hoped he did.
Paul groaned into her shoulder and squeezed her against him. “Fine.”
His reluctance was palpable as he released her. To be fair, she truly didn’t want to interrupt their cuddling either, but it had to be done. Her father would worry about her if he didn’t hear from her.
If he didn’t know about what was going on, then he’d likely assume she’d crashed or something. She needed to let him know she was safe—no matter what he was aware of. Though she’d be lying if she said it didn’t irk her that he hadn’t known about the hit out on her. He was supposed to be the president of the Roughneck Riders motorcycle club—a big shot in the criminal underworld of Oklahoma. How the hell had this gotten past him?
Paul rounded the bed and reached for his pants. From the pile of discarded clothing, he snatched his black briefs and tugged them up his legs. He was such a beautiful man. Tall, lean, with just the hint of rippling abs. He wasn’t overly muscular, but it was obvious he took care of himself.
The hair of his happy trail was fine and very light. It wasn’t visible from a distance, but up close, she felt the softness of it. Though his chest was bald. She wondered if that was natural or if he shaved or waxed.
“I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, annoyance clear, as he exited the room.
Tossing the covers off, Harper sought the pile of clothes. Not that her father would know, but it felt wrong to talk to him while naked. Quickly, she slipped back into her outfit from before. She had just pulled the T-shirt over her head when Paul returned.
He extended the phone toward her. “It’s a burner—untraceable. Do not tell him where we are. I have no idea who’s listening in on his end.”
She scowled at him. “How stupid do you think I am?”
He arched a brow, and she slapped at his bare chest playfully. It earned her one of his deliciously devilish grins.
Taking the phone, she tapped at the screen and dialed her father’s number. Thankfully, it was the same one he’d had years ago, so she remembered it. Had she wanted to call her siblings, she wouldn’t have a clue.
Turning away from Paul, Harper plugged one of her ears and held the phone to the other as she listened to the ringing tone.
“Yeah,” her dad answered gruffly.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Harper?” It was a cross between an exclamation and a question.
“Yeah.” She grinned.
“What happened?” Maybe he knew something after all.
“I’m okay.”
“Where are you?”
She glanced over her shoulder and found Paul staring at her with hard, narrowed eyes. The same look he wore when he was security at the laundromat.
Shaking her head, she dismissed it and shifted her focus back to her call. “Don’t worry about that. I’m safe.”
“Who has you?”
“A friend.”
“ Who ?” he demanded. “Not the cops, right?”
Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, but she wasn’t sure in who. “No,” she muttered softly. “Not the cops.”
It was a fair assumption on her father’s part. Any rational person would’ve gone to the cops when people were shooting at them. Especially a prosecuting attorney. She should’ve done that, but she’d be lying if she said that’s where she would’ve gone if Paul hadn’t been there. She would’ve gone to her father.
So much for being on the right side of the law.
“Where are you, baby?” His tone had shifted to be much softer, tender, almost caring.
“I’m safe,” she reiterated. “You don’t have to worry.”
“You didn’t go home, did you?”
“No. I’m still here.”
Paul snapped his fingers and drew her attention. His icy glare cut through her, but she knew it wasn’t about her. He shook his head slowly back and forth.
She nodded. She wasn’t supposed to say where she was.
“I want to come get you. You’re my daughter. No one can protect you like I can. We’ll keep you at the clubhouse until we get this all figured out. Come home.”
And there it was—her conflicted feelings. No matter what, he was her dad. There was no doubt in her mind that he’d do his damnedest to keep her safe, but she doubted it’d be enough. If it had been, she wouldn’t be holed up in this off-the-grid house with Paul in the first place. Paul would’ve never been able to get to her if her father could actually protect her.
Hanging her head, she wallowed in that unfortunate reality. “I can’t.”
The words were barely audible. It crushed her to admit them, but he wasn’t capable of keeping her safe.
“Harper?”
Tears welled in her eyes. Biting her bottom lip, she let them fall down her cheeks. She’d grown up having loyalty beaten into her head. The most important thing in life was loyalty. It could save your neck, but if you lacked it, you’d get killed. It broke her heart knowing that staying with Paul would be seen as being disloyal by her father, but it was the only way she would survive this.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“Harper!”
Paul snatched the phone out of her hand, and with it went the weight of having to explain to her dad why she couldn’t trust him with this. She should’ve been pissed that Paul grabbed the cell, but relief was all she felt.
As he brought it to his ear, she threw herself against him, wrapped her arms around him, and cried into his chest softly. He hugged her against him and rubbed her back soothingly.
“I got her, Snoopy,” Paul said flatly. “You have my word that nothing will happen to her.”
The slew of angry expletives and threats was loud against Paul’s ear. Harper could hear them without issue, but he didn’t flinch. He stood, stone-faced, stroking her hair, listening.
It took a solid minute before the line went silent.
“Are you done?” Paul asked.
He paused, staring out the window.
“Meet me at the place where you did me a favor at eight.”
He took the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to end the call. There was no way her father had a chance to respond to his demand.
Harper drew her brows together and looked up at him. “What was that?”
Paul kissed the top of her head and sighed. “Any father worth his salt wouldn’t take the word of his kidnapped daughter or the person holding her that she was safe.”
Pursing her lips, she nodded. He had a point.
“I figured I could take you to see him briefly. I’ll get a feel for what he knows, and maybe we can work together on a plan to put an end to this ridiculousness.” From the look on his face, the words were sour on his tongue.
She lifted her brows in surprise. “You’d work with the Riders?”
From what she could tell, Paul despised her father’s motorcycle club. This was completely out of character.
He swallowed hard and lifted his chin. “I’ll do anything to keep you alive.”