26. Harper
26
Harper
H arper’s dad was supposed to be untouchable. Logically, she knew that wasn’t true, but her heart wished for it. People who lived like he did, took all the risks he had, were not long for this world. For fifty years, her dad defied the odds and continued to thrive. She didn’t believe he’d live forever. He was a mere mortal, but never in her wildest imagination had she thought he’d go out like that—in her face. Literally .
Reaching up, she swiped her cheek. Bringing her fingers before her, in the flashes of light from the passing lampposts, she saw the ruddy stains of her father’s blood.
It really happened. It wasn’t an awful nightmare. She wore the proof.
Her dad was gone. She’d never receive another one of his hugs or see his wry smile. His throaty laugh was silenced.
Dead.
As the car jerked and Paul switched lanes, she turned. Were they being followed? Scanning the headlights of those behind them, she couldn’t tell. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. She faced forward and sank back in the seat. If they were, she wasn’t driving, so there wasn’t anything she could do about it.
Staring out the windshield, she sniffled. Her tears had stopped, but her heart ached. Her father hadn’t been a perfect man, and he did bad things, but he loved her. He never purposely did things to hurt her. Was he misguided at times? Absolutely. His choices were questionable, but she never thought they’d catch up with him.
“Where are we going?” she asked, realizing they’d been on the road far longer than she’d expected. All she wanted to do was crawl into bed, cocoon herself in the blanket, and try to forget the world.
This just couldn’t be happening.
“Someone is following us,” Paul said as he glanced in the rearview mirror. “I’m doing my best to go out of my way and lose them before I head back to the house.”
She nodded. “I need to call my sister and my brothers.”
“Eddie’s on it.”
“What?” She gaped at him. “They don’t know him.”
“Eddie deals with Little Junior from time to time,” Paul offered.
Harper couldn’t help but cringe at her brother’s road name. Weston was the spitting image of their dad, and the club picked up on it and started calling him Junior. And since he was so small, Little got attached. Considering their father brought the boys around the clubhouse before they could walk, it was inevitable they’d join.
“I’m sure he’ll get the word out to them,” Paul assured her.
At least her family wouldn’t have to worry about her safety. If Weston knew, he’d make sure her mom, Remi, and Colt would too. The clubhouse would definitely go on lockdown, which meant the riffraff that normally hung around there wouldn’t be allowed in. Her family would be safe—for now.
Paul rested a hand on her thigh. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “Why?”
“You lost your dad.”
“That’s not your fault.”
“I never said it was.”
As convenient as it would be to blame Paul, considering he arranged the meeting, it wouldn’t be fair. The consequences of her father’s decisions finally caught up with him. Paul just happened to be there. It was inevitable.
That knowledge didn’t make it hurt any less.
“Then why the apology?” she asked.
“Because I can tell it hurts.”
Empathy from a cold-blooded killer looked good on Paul. Odd but interesting. She raised her chin and gazed out the window, watching the scenery pass by. It didn’t deserve a response.
“It’s not your fault either,” he added.
“I didn’t claim it was.”
“I know, but I don’t want you getting all in your head thinking things would’ve gone any different. Your dad has been fucking shit up for a while.”
She nodded. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.”
“Just promise me you aren’t sitting there thinking you did this.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t lie to me.” He squeezed her leg.
Bringing her attention back to him, she sighed. “I’m not stupid. He lived rough. It was inevitable. I just wish…” She couldn’t finish her sentence. There were a lot of ways she’d have preferred for the night to have gone down, but it was useless to talk about. Reality was what it was.
“I think I lost him,” Paul changed the subject, and she couldn’t have been more grateful.
She glanced over her shoulder and scanned the road behind them. There were plenty of cars on the highway. “How do you know?”
“I just do,” he said as he cut across the lane and took the first exit. “We’ll take the back road to be sure.”
“What happens now?” she asked.
It couldn’t be good for anyone that the head of the motorcycle club was gone. He didn’t have a big piece of the pie, but he definitely had his fingers in a lot of the dirty business in Oklahoma. Her dad may not have had a seat at Paul’s table, but they absolutely knew about him and worked with him.
Paul sighed. “The same thing that would happen if any of the syndicates lost a head. Someone else will step up to fill the void, or the organization will fold. There will be a war over his turf if that happens.”
Racking her brain, she couldn’t imagine who would fill her father’s shoes. They had a hierarchy and whatnot, but even that was fucked up considering Dwight, the vice president, was slated for jail time. Not that it was unheard of for a club to have a president behind bars, it just wasn’t ideal—especially in tumultuous times.
“This just went from bad to worse, didn’t it?” she asked as she ran her fingers along her forehead, trying to stave off a migraine.
Paul’s head bobbed left and right as he seemed to consider her words. “Maybe.”
“A turf war is a maybe?”
“That’s only if Snoopy’s crew can’t get their shit together. Otherwise, we’re in the same position we were in before.”
Shaking her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose. “So, on top of a possible war, there are still bounties on our heads?”
“Yeah.”
“Fantastic.”
He smirked and shrugged. “I can handle it.”
She rolled her eyes. “You aren’t invincible.”
Paul snorted. “You don’t know that. I haven’t died yet.”