28. Harper
28
Harper
C urled into the fetal position, tucked tenderly into the bed, Harper lay in the darkness as the heavy reality crushed her. Not that she hadn’t taken this situation seriously. Her life was on the line and a dude was dead in a hotel room because of it. It became that much more tangible when she watched the life fade from her father’s eyes. She was smack-dab in the middle of a crime war—due to no fault of her own. At least as far as she knew. Who could she have pissed off this badly?
As a prosecutor, she had handled nothing remotely resembling organized crime. They didn’t trust her with that sort of high-profile, complicated stuff yet. She was still earning her way, making her bones. Harper had barely graduated from prosecuting misdemeanor crimes and civil infractions. She hadn’t even been included on felonies yet. Not to mention, she was an assistant prosecuting attorney in North Carolina, not Oklahoma, so she hadn’t pissed in anyone’s Cheerios. The pieces didn’t fit together.
Hell, the most serious case she’d been on had been Dwight’s as his defense attorney. She didn’t even prosecute him. That was a favor . This made no sense.
Sitting up in bed, she pulled a knee close to her chest and rested her forearm on it as she gnawed on her thumbnail. She’d need a manicure in the worst way after all this nonsense resolved.
Paul’s mumbled conversation in the other room had her curious, but she couldn’t make out what he said. Though she’d put money on it being about what truly spawned all this chaos. The only way to end it, to guarantee her and Paul’s safety for another day, was to figure out who truly was behind it.
The slight creak of the door to the bedroom drew her attention, and she snapped her focus toward it. Immediately, her heart raced. Logically, she knew this place was safe, but fresh out of a gunfight, she was a little jumpy. Which infuriated her.
Paul crept into the room, and even in the low light, she could see his frown. “I had hoped you would’ve fallen asleep.”
“I can’t.”
Nodding, he stood at the end of the bed.
“I have too many questions.”
“Me too.”
“I don’t think it’s about me,” she admitted.
Taking a deep inhale, he scrubbed a hand through his hair. “It’s not.”
“Then you know who’s behind this?” Hope blossomed in her chest. “Who killed my dad?”
Lowering himself to the bed with a groan, he shook his head. “I have ideas, but nothing concrete.”
Her mind raced with possibilities as Paul pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into a corner.
“I’m exhausted,” he said and lifted the bedding.
“Me too,” she agreed.
The day felt like it’d lasted years. Too much was crammed into twenty-four hours. What she wouldn’t give to close her eyes, wake up from the nightmare, and be back in North Carolina doing her thing while her dad continued his bullshit for another day.
Once under the covers, Paul scooted closer to her. “Lay with me.”
For half a second, she considered arguing with him about it, demanding he sleep on the couch, but it was fleeting and a completely ridiculous thought. They’d slept together, literally and sexually, quite a bit over the last forty-eight hours. Demanding he rest somewhere else was laughable.
She shimmied in the bed and tucked herself against his side. Paul slid his arm beneath her neck. Turning toward her slightly, he gently pressed his lips to her forehead. As the kiss lingered, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sense of comfort he offered.
“I have a meeting tomorrow,” he said. “I won’t be gone long.”
She furrowed her brow. “I’m not going with you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to risk a repeat of tonight. This place is remote as hell. No one knows we’re here.”
She rested her head on his bare chest. With her ear hovering over his heart, she took solace in the steady beat. He was calm, confident. She wished she felt as collected as he seemed to.
“There’s a storm shelter in the yard. If you want, you can go in there while I’m gone, but I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” he suggested as he trailed his fingers up and down her arm.
“Okay,” she agreed softly, feeling weariness tug at her consciousness, pulling her closer to sleep.
“There are a ton of cameras in the security room. If you want, you can hole up in there and watch the whole lot of nothing going on around us. Maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll see a deer or fox or something.”
The corners of her mouth curled up into a smile at the thought of seeing a fuzzy-tailed orange fox scampering about the land. “Yeah.” She sighed sleepily. “That’s probably what I’ll do.”
She’d gone from anxious and hypervigilant to content and drowsy in a matter of seconds. All it took was a gentle cuddle from Paul. Security and safety wafted off him and soothed her soul. He’d protected her in the past, yesterday, and today. He’d do it again. This man was a blessing.
The absurdity of that thought tickled her ribs. Paul was a dangerous predator masquerading as a respectable man in immaculate and expensive couture, but he was the guardian she never knew she needed.
Life was full of complicated contradictions like that. Standing side by side, any rational person would believe her to be the criminal and not the clean-shaven blond guy who wore nice suits. She wasn’t the cookie-cutter, respectable-looking lawyer. With her multitude of tattoos, her attitude, and her upbringing, no one would believe she was the one who upheld the law.
But where had that gotten her? All the studying, the busting her ass, the thousands of dollars she spent on her move and her education—it hadn’t changed a thing. She was back in Oklahoma, and her heart belonged to a lawless man.
If they made it out of this alive, what was she supposed to do with her life?