46. Harper
HARPER
It’s just after two a.m. when I arrive at home. I have a shift in six hours, and I need at least a few hours’ sleep before I show up at the sheriff’s office.
Turns out Luke and I don’t sleep when we’re together.
That does not bother me one bit.
I spent most of the weekend at Blackthorn, in Luke’s bed and in his arms. Learning the shape of him, the taste of him, the way he says my name when he’s inside me.
My body is deliciously sore, my mind is fuzzy with exhaustion and satisfaction.
I catch a glance of myself in the rearview mirror, and I look like I spent the weekend doing exactly what I spent the weekend doing—having orgasm after glorious orgasm.
I grab my purse and slip out of the SUV as quietly as possible. The house is dark except for the porch light. I ease the front door open, step inside, and bend to take my shoes off—
The kitchen light is on.
My stomach drops.
“Harper?” my dad calls out in his official voice—the one he uses on drunk and disorderlies and domestic disturbances.
Fuck.
My heart starts to pound like I’m a kid, caught, instead of the grown-ass adult I am. Reminding myself I have a badge, I take a deep breath, push my shoulders back, and go to the kitchen.
Dad’s sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in front of him, still dressed in his uniform. His arms are crossed. His jaw is tight. He’s been waiting—I can’t even guess for how long.
“Where have you been?” His voice is flat and he gazes at me like I’ve done something wrong.
I expected it but I still bristle. Logically, I know that I haven’t told him what’s going on or how I feel about Luke, but couldn’t he ask? “I was out. Obviously,” I couldn’t help adding as I walked to the refrigerator.
“Where?”
“With friends.” I grit my teeth as I get out a bottle of water I don’t want. It’s the truth. Emma and Lily are my closest girlfriends.
“What friends?”
I know I’m living under his roof, but still. I twist the cap off the water bottle, taking a long drink to give myself a sec to cool off. Now isn’t the time to tell him about Luke, so I give him another partial truth. “I was at Blackthorn. With Emma and Lily.”
Dad’s entire body goes rigid. His hands still on the mug. “Blackthorn,” he repeats with an edge. “What were you doing there?”
“I told you, I was with Emma and Lily. Drinking. Hanging out. Talking.” All true, because we’d all had dinner together. Just not the whole truth, because after dinner Luke and I went to his room and banged until I left.
Dad pushes his mug away and leans forward. “Harper, I need you to listen to me carefully.”
“Okay.” The water bottle crackles in my hand, and my cop brain is already firing warnings.
“Jake Callahan, Mason Rivera, and Luke Bennett—” He stops and pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s fighting for words. “Those men are getting involved in things. Dangerous things. Getting on the wrong side of people they shouldn’t mess with.”
My blood goes cold, because I know what side Luke and the guys are on. The question that’s been niggling me is, what side of these people is my dad on? “What kind of things?”
“The kind that gets people hurt.” Dad stares at me, and I see real fear in his eyes—I’m not sure if it’s for me or for himself. “The kind that gets people disappeared. I don’t want you caught up in whatever they’re doing, Harper. I don’t want you at that ranch.”
“I don’t understand.” I shake my head. “What do you think they’re doing?”
“Causing trouble.”
Seriously? Like they’re teenagers. “How do you know?”
“I’m the sheriff. It’s my job to know.”
“No.” I point at him. “That’s not how this works. You don’t just know that Jake and Mason and Luke are doing something dangerous unless you witnessed it yourself or if someone told you. Unless you’ve been paying attention to them specifically.”
“You need to stay away from Blackthorn,” he insists, bullheaded like he is.
Well, I can be bullheaded too. “Because of them, or because of Cole Turner?”
He doesn’t answer, which is answer enough.
“This is about Cole Turner, isn’t it?” I know my dad hasn’t moved on Turner in the past. Hello—Emma’s father’s “accident” was the tip-off.
I also know Luke thinks my dad is somehow complicit, but I wanted to believe he didn’t have enough to make anything stick against Turner.
Now I’m not so sure. “That’s who you’re worried about. ”
“I’m worried about you.”
I shake my head. “Dad—”
“I’m serious, Harper.” He points at me, all sheriff now. “Stay away from that ranch. Stay away from those men. Don’t ask questions. Don’t get involved. Can you do that?”
I stare at him, searching his face. Something’s wrong here. He’s worried—maybe even scared—about something. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“Swear you’ll keep to your lane and avoid that ranch,” he barks.
“No, I can’t do that,” I say slowly, shaking my head. I’m not going to stop seeing Luke.
He closes his eyes. “Then you need to be very, very smart about it. Watch for anyone following you. Don’t be out alone in isolated areas. Keep an eye out for anything suspicious.”
I know I must be gaping. I ask it again. “What’s going on, Dad?”
“What’s going on is you’re making a big mistake.” Without another word, he gets up and trudges up the stairs.
I wait until I hear his door close. “Thanks for the information, Dad,” I mumble. “Feeling really safe here.”
I shudder, wanting to go right back to Luke.
Ridiculous. I’m not going to hide behind a big, strong man. That’s not me.
Squeezing my water bottle, I head upstairs to my bedroom. I don’t bother turning on the light—I just kick off my boots and collapse onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. The same glow-in-the-dark stars I put up when I was twelve are still there, faint green shapes in the blackness.
Everything’s the same.
Except it’s not.
I replay the conversation with Dad in my head, picking apart every word, every pause, every inflection.
Those men are getting involved in dangerous things.
Getting on the wrong side of people they shouldn’t mess with.
I don’t want you at that ranch.
What does he know? And how involved is he?
Luke didn’t say as much when we talked about what happened on the bridge, over the ravine, and—truthfully—I didn’t want to read between the lines. But I know he inferred that someone at the sheriff’s office is in Turner’s pocket. Maybe my dad.
My stomach twists, my mind spinning in a direction I don’t want to go, because Dad’s a good cop. He’s been sheriff for over twenty years. He’s honest. He’s fair. He taught me everything I know about justice and integrity and doing the right thing even when it’s hard.
He wouldn’t be complicit in something illegal. He wouldn’t.
But the way he looked at me tonight was undeniable. It was like he was begging me to not ask questions—like he was caught between me and something bigger and dangerous.
Stay away from Blackthorn.
It’s not a warning. It’s a plea.
I roll onto my side, pulling my knees up to my chest. I don’t want to believe it. I don’t want to think my father could be involved in something bad. But I’m a cop, and my instincts are screaming that something’s wrong.
I close my eyes, but I know I won’t sleep.
Because in a few hours, before Dad gets up, I'm going into the office—to the evidence room. I'm pulling every case file from the last five years—every property dispute, every closed investigation, every suspicious death or disappearance.
And I'm going to find out if my father is hiding anything.