41. Harper
41
Harper
C losing her eyes, Harper sank into the sanctuary of Paul’s arms in the back seat of a random SUV. Tires spun in the dirt parking lot before the vehicle jerked forward and they were off. A flurry of injury reports from the men surrounding her filled the car. People she didn’t know were talking about how they’d gotten shot and who had bumps and bruises. Someone even mentioned that another guy hadn’t made it out.
More death.
She’d made the right choice when she left for law school. If only she’d had the wherewithal to not look back. Damn her sense of obligation to her family. Her father always wanted her back, under the protection of the club.
Had she stayed like he’d wanted, she would’ve belonged to the club and Dwight specifically. There was no way around that. That existence would’ve been hell. The few hours she’d spent with him only reiterated that.
That wasn’t the life she wanted.
Paul’s crew wasn’t as gritty as her father’s. They appeared more organized. Would life be as chaotic with them?
Perhaps she hadn’t sought to escape the dangers so much as she fled from Dwight.
As she rested her head against Paul’s chest, listening to the bass in his voice as he barked orders at his brother, who was driving, she concentrated on the beat of his heart while he rubbed her arm tenderly. She didn’t want to think about any of it right now. Unfortunately, her brain had other ideas.
Paul and Dwight were both men who dabbled in illegal activities. One more brazen and careless than the other. There was a stark contrast between the biker life and Paul’s. Though she honestly couldn’t fool herself into believing one was safer than the other. They were both criminals. One just dressed better and was far more calculated. God help her, she ate that shit up.
What now?
Her dad was gone. Dwight was dead. In theory, she could return to her life and get therapy to process the past few days.
But what about Paul?
They hit a bump, and she winced. Stopping mid-sentence, Paul held her tighter.
“What hurts?” he asked.
She snorted. Blowing the question off in the heat of the moment behind the bar had been the right move. Cataloging her injuries wasn’t exactly imperative at the time. Now, though, she couldn’t avoid it. She began a list.
“My ribs, my face, my head, my ass. I think it’d be easier to ask what doesn’t hurt.” She sighed.
“What happened to your ass?” Eddie asked from the front seat.
“It’s the least of my concerns,” she groaned, not wanting to discuss the fresh burn on her butt.
Paul stroked her hair. “Eddie, is your buddy the paramedic available?”
“No.” He shook his head.
Paul hissed, then pressed his lips to the crown of her head as he continued to pet her in slow, soothing motions. “I’ll find a way to get you checked out.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“Where are we headed?” someone from the third row asked.
“The hangar,” Paul’s brother answered.
Hangar? “Like for planes?” Harper blurted.
“Yeah,” Paul said. “We have some shit to work out.”
Groaning, she nuzzled against his chest. More complications. That was the last thing she needed. If she had her way, she’d jump on a plane today, go home, and leave this all behind her.
What about Paul?
The intrusive thought barged into her brain, but she couldn’t answer it. She honestly didn’t know what to do about him—and them, because they’d crossed that threshold. They were a them.
There was nothing more obvious than the attraction that existed between the two. Paul had demonstrated time and time again that he’d sacrifice himself for her. Honestly, she’d do the damn same. She couldn’t move on with her life and forget he existed.
She’d tried that once.
Every day in North Carolina felt empty. The men she dated weren’t as charming. They didn’t have that effortless magnetism Paul possessed. It was why she’d thrown herself into her work. Her love life was stagnant and lacking, so she figured being the best possible lawyer out there would be enough.
But it wasn’t, and not because she needed a man to make her whole. Fuck that noise. It was because she knew Paul existed. She’d experienced the explosive chemistry between them and craved it deep within her core.
Denying herself had worked for a while, but the moment he appeared, her resistance melted away. Paul waved every red flag in existence. He was a dangerous criminal with blood on his hands. Every day he walked this Earth was another day closer to his inevitable destruction.
He lived on borrowed time and wanted to spend it with her. How was she supposed to turn that down? He did it twelve years ago, and again over the last few days. No one would ever offer her that amount of devotion. Every breath he took was a gift.
Could she really turn her back on that?