11. Harper
HARPER
Ihit the bridge doing sixty, holding my breath, my heart somewhere in my throat.
The scene is chaos. Broken railing. Skid marks. My headlights catch the edge of the ravine where the steel barrier is just gone, torn away like paper.
Luke’s truck is parked at an angle just beyond, driver’s door open, engine still running.
No Luke.
“Shit.” Stopping behind Luke’s truck, I’m out and running to the railing. My hand goes to my radio to call dispatch before I remember I don’t have my uniform on.
I stop, because that’s when I see him.
Luke. Climbing out of the ravine. Soaking wet, his shirt plastered to his chest, water streaming off him in the glow of my headlights.
I blow out a breath, practically wilting I’m so relieved he’s okay. I start walking toward him, about to rip him a new one for scaring me to death.
Only then I realize he’s carrying a woman.
She’s shaking so hard I can almost hear her teeth clattering. There are zip ties around her wrists and ankles. Her face and arms are covered in bruises.
“Jesus Christ.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Luke’s eyes snap to mine, as if he heard me, though I know he couldn’t have over the roar of the water. He doesn’t look smug. Doesn’t look cocky. He looks like a man who just pulled someone out of hell and isn’t sure what comes next.
He knew she was in the van. Does he know who she is? Who tied her up like that? The van came off the access road from Emma’s Circle H—why? How did Luke know the van was going to be there? What did the text say and who sent it?
The questions pile up fast, and there’s only one thing I know clearly: I just stepped into something a lot bigger than I anticipated.