Chapter 2
Two
NEEDING SOME AIR, Harper excused herself from the Christmas movie marathon the following night.
“Where you headed?” Deck asked, stepping out of the living room after her.
She grabbed her coat off the white—had to be Pottery Barn—hall tree.
“At the Christmas Eve service today, Mrs. Watkins mentioned that Kreger’s is open tonight.
According to her, going to Kreger’s on Christmas Eve is tradition.
” But the truth was she needed air, needed the cold to slap away the fear churning inside of her.
“Let me guess.” He smiled. “Peppermint milkshake?”
He remembered. There was that hint of warmth raking through her again. “Yep.”
“Give me a sec and I’ll go with you.”
Just what she’d hoped he’d say.
“Let me just tell the gang. We may have takeout orders.” He chuckled.
“I’m going to grab my gloves.” She’d started down the hallway to the guest bedroom when the doorbell rang. It wasn’t a fearful sound usually, but her muscles tensed.
“I wonder who it is this time?” Deck asked.
“I’ll get it,” Riley called, but Deck’s footsteps echoed across the foyer over the movie soundtrack.
Curiosity and trepidation shifted through her. Who was there?
The door creaked.
“Dad?” Disbelief radiated in Deckard’s holler.
“No time for chitchat,” the man said. “Your sister is in grave danger.”
Heavy footfalls sounded toward the door as Harper rounded the hall’s corner edge.
Christian’s six-foot-four frame towered over the other two men, despite Deckard being six-two.
“Dad?” Shock rumbled in Christian’s deep voice.
“Did you say da—” Riley halted halfway to the door. “How . . . ?”
Greyson was at Riley’s side before Harper could blink. He stepped around Riley, shielding her.
“Hello, Riley Anne,” their dad said.
Harper shifted, meeting Riley’s gaze. She stood like a deer fixed in headlights.
“You need to leave, now.” Rage rang in Deckard’s voice. He moved to shut the door, but the man’s hand wedged in it, unmoving.
Greyson turned to Riley. “Let’s go back in the living room, luv.”
Love? Harper arched her brows. What was up with that? All kinds of surprises tonight.
“We don’t need to listen to this,” he added. Greyson reached for Riley’s hand, and she took hold tight, if her white knuckles were any indicator. “Your brothers can handle this.”
Riley nodded. Her expression bewildered, she strode with Greyson back to the living room.
“You need to understand,” the man hollered, the sound strained as he pushed against the wooden door.
“No. You need to understand,” Deck countered, pushing back. “You’re not welcome here.”
“That may be, but your sister is in grave danger. You need to know—”
“We can protect Riley. We’ve been doing it for years.”
She couldn’t see the man’s face clearly with the wind swiping snow sideways across the porch and his face, not to mention Christian’s still widened shoulders.
“Not Riley,” the man urged. “Bristol.”
Deck’s chiseled jaw clenched.
Bristol? The sister they never spoke about. Curiosity nipped at Harper as she remained poised at the hall’s edge.
Christian shifted his stance, clearing her view. The porch’s motion lights illuminated the man’s carriage. There was something eerily familiar about it.
The man’s gaze shifted over Deck’s shoulder, landing on her. “Hello.” The gravel of his voice echoed Deck’s.
The snow stilled long enough for his face to be clear. Gaping, her gaze swept back and forth between the two men—one a reflection of the other.
Deckard’s dad. His dead dad.