Semi-Charmed

by Isabel Jordan

  “Pretty grandbabies?”

  She laughed so hard she snorted. “No.” Then her expression turned serious. “I saw how you looked at her. You know who she is, the real Harper, and you have no interest in changing one single thing about her. You want her exactly as she is: the gifted, beautiful, flawed, perfect mess that she is. You’ll love her as much as I do. And that’s what every mother wants for her little girl.”

  Wow, if he was what every mother wanted for her little girl, the world was one twisted, sick place. “It’s not like that. It can’t be like that for us.”

  Tina cackled. “Oh, honey, it’s adorable, absolutely adorable that you think you have a choice in the matter. But once Harper sets her mind to something, she gets it. And she wants you. Hell, you might as well stamp ‘property of Harper Hall’ on your ass.”

  He felt his brow furrow as she continued to laugh at him. After a few moments, she wiped her streaming eyes and slapped him on the knee. “Can I get you something to eat, sweetie?”

  He was pretty sure he’d never been called sweetie in his life, but somehow it didn’t surprise him coming from Tina Petrocelli. “Eat?”

  “Yeah, you know, food?” she asked with a teasing smile. “I brought a pan of manicotti.”

  He vaguely remembered shoving a couple of casserole dishes in the freezer. “Save it for Harper.”

  “No, I brought the lasagna for Harper. I brought the manicotti for you.”

  Riddick rubbed the back of his neck. Shit, he really needed some sleep, because he knew she was speaking English and yet, he just wasn’t tracking. “Why would you bring me food?”

  She frowned. “Well, for one, you’re too skinny and need to eat more. Second, I was pretty sure you liked the manicotti when you had it at Petrocelli’s the other night. And finally…well, that’s just what you do for family.”

  “But I’m not family.”

  Her hands went to her hips. “The hell you’re not, mister. You saved my baby’s life. That makes you one of mine.”

  He sat there, stunned silent. Family. Noah Riddick, part of a family. It was ridiculous.

  She leaned down and kissed his cheek before walking toward the kitchen. “It’s decided. I’ll heat up the manicotti. You’ll eat.”

  Her tone booked no room for argument. An unprecedented warmth spread through him. “Semi-charmed,” he murmured. Was this what it felt like to have someone care about what happened to you? It felt surprisingly…good.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  The week after Harper’s mother visited was almost as trying as her time with Phoenix.

  She would’ve loved living in the peaceful land of denial for a while longer. But she knew her mother and Riddick were right. She had to face what had happened and work through it. Besides, constant calls from reporters—and the huge blood stain on her living room rug where Lucas had apparently lost a few pints—were making it hard to avoid.

  And then there were the nightmares.

  Sweaty, chest-gripping, sit-straight-up-in-bed-and-gasp-for-air nightmares that occurred every night like clockwork. They made her feel weak, out-of-control. And those were two feelings Harper Hall simply would not tolerate in the long term, so something was going to have to give and give soon.

  She just hoped it wasn’t her sanity.

  The one positive she could count on was Riddick. When he took her home from the hospital, he’d had a bag with him. Neither of them mentioned it, but since he hadn’t left her apartment once and didn’t seem to be without clean clothes, she had to assume he’d planned to stay with her even before they left the hospital.

  Not that she minded. Having her own personal slayer in the next room did a lot to soothe her jangled nerves. And while it would be nice if he’d sleep next to her every night instead of on her tiny pull-out, she couldn’t deny that he was always within arms-reach when she needed him most.

  Nightmare after nightmare, the second she sat up in bed, bathed in her own sweat, Riddick was there to gather her in his arms and remind her that it wasn’t real, that she was safe. Sometimes she felt like his voice and strong arms were all that anchored her to reality. All that kept her from sinking into the murky nightmares, never to return to the land of the living.

  One night, driven by a need she couldn’t even begin to explain, she’d gone after the blood stain on her living room rug with a vengeance. She scrubbed and scoured until her fingers bled, sobbing and hyperventilating the whole time.

  Riddick had sat and watched her, letting her get…whatever it was out of her system. When she finally collapsed, he picked her up, carried her back to bed, and cradled her against his chest until she fell asleep. He never said a word that night, or the next morning.

  And somehow, Riddick must have known that quiet acceptance was exactly what she needed most, because after that night, Harper slowly began to feel more and more like herself. She was almost able to sleep through the night.

  Almost, she thought, viciously pounding her pillow with her clenched fist. She glanced at the clock. Midnight and she was still wide awake.

  With a sigh, she rolled out of bed, shoved her feet into her slippers and threw an old cotton robe over her tank top and yoga pants. Maybe some TV would lull her to sleep.

  When she opened her door, voices stopped her in her tracks. Her heart rate sped up, then almost immediately slowed when she recognized them.

  “So then the little Italian gal—I think Harper said her name was Mischa—slammed my head into the wall.”

  “I know. Harper told me. You probably shouldn’t ever call Mischa a ‘hot piece’, Benny,” Riddick said. "She's got a little bit of a temper."

  “Yeah, I got that. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, the big Indian downstairs said he’d rip my arms off and beat me to death with them if I even looked at that little gal again. He looked fairly serious about it.”

  Riddick let out a long-suffering sigh. “I imagine he was.”

  “Since he sounded so sincere and everything, I didn’t have the heart to tell him his threat wasn’t nearly as creative or scary as the gal’s. Oh well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? She is a hot little piece, though. Even with that temper.”

  After a moment of silence in which Harper imagined Riddick was grinding his teeth, Riddick asked, “Why are you even here? Harper went to bed hours ago.”

  “Dude, I told you I wanted to binge-watch Prison Break,” Benny replied.

  She could practically hear the scowl in Riddick’s voice as he said, “Why can’t you do that at your house?”

  “I don’t have NetFlix. I’m watching the episodes I missed. Harper promised she’d watch with me next week if I watched up to season three.”

  “What the hell is NetFlix?”

  Benny snickered. “Man, you gotta get out more.”

  After a moment, Benny said, “You think I could get a chick that looks like her now that I’m a celebrity?”

  Riddick sighed, sounding exasperated. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Harper peeked out of her room and saw Benny gesture with the remote towards the TV. “That chick. Dr. Sara. She’s hot. You think I could get a chick like that now?”

  Riddick, sitting on the couch next to Benny, crossed his arms over his chest. “No.”

  “Aw, come on. Harper says I look just like that Michael guy. You don’t think I could—“

  “No.”

  “You’re just bustin’ my balls. Maybe I couldn’t get an actress, but I bet I could get a chick as hot as Harper.”

  Riddick glanced over at Benny. “That actress isn’t even anywhere near Harper’s league. Give it up.”

  He snickered. “Man, you really got it bad.”

  “Fuck you, Benny.”

  Harper smiled so big it re-split her lip—the damn thing just wouldn’t heal—and she winced, drawing both men’s attention. They both stood as she padded into the room. “Sorry guys. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  Benny grinned. “Hey, glad you’re up. I wa
s just—”

  “Leaving,” Riddick finished for him. “He was just leaving.”

  He frowned at Riddick, then glanced back at Harper. “Yeah, I was just leaving, baby. You should go back to bed.”

  Harper said goodbye, kissing him on the cheek, making Benny blush and Riddick scowl.

  When he was gone, she sat down on the couch next to Riddick. “Thanks for being nice to him.”

  “I wasn’t nice to him.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t kill him. That was nice.”

  He smiled at her. “You’re an easy woman to please, Harper Hall.”

  She shrugged. “I learned the value of low expectations long ago.”

  His smile faded. “Why are you up? Nightmare?”

  “Not tonight.” She shrugged. “Insomnia, I guess.”

  He nodded. “It’ll get easier.”

  “What will?”

  “Everything.”

  Harper leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You sound sure.”

  “I am.”

  “What could you possibly know about fear? You’re not afraid of anything.”

  He frowned. “I’m a natural, Harper. Not a robot. Of course I’m afraid of things.”

  “Like what?”

  His expression turned very serious as his gaze touched her eyes, her hair, her mouth. “Hurting you.”

  She sucked in a shallow breath. “You’d never hurt me.”

  “Not intentionally.”

  Harper rolled her eyes. “You sound like Lucas.”

  “He’s right. You should listen to him.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you?” She leaned toward him so that her breasts pushed gently against his arm. He exhaled sharply and she closed her eyes as the now-familiar tingles shot through her body. “You’ve been here since I got out of the hospital. That doesn’t sound anything like the guy Lucas describes when he talks about you.”

  Riddick turned toward her. His lips were a scant breath from hers when he whispered, “Harper…”

  “Shhh. Don’t say it.”

  She pressed her mouth gently on his. After a moment’s hesitation, he kissed her back. It was a different kiss than their first. Every bit as powerful—her thighs immediately went up in flames—but not nearly as desperate. It was slow, deliberate, devastating.

  Harper reached out to lay her hand over his heart, and he caught her wrist, pulling away from her with a ragged intake of breath.

  Confused, she leaned back. Didn’t he feel the tingles? Then she saw his eyes, saw the almost desperate longing there and she understood. Hated it, but understood. He just wasn’t ready yet.

  “You know we’re going to need to talk about this thing between us eventually,” she said quietly.

  He closed his eyes and raked his fingers through his hair. “I know. But not tonight.”

  She stood, offered him a sad smile, and made her way back to the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. “Good night, Noah,” she whispered.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Two days later, Lucas stopped by to talk to her. One look at his face told her that it wasn’t a friendly social call.

  Lucas took the cup of coffee she offered him and sat down at her kitchen table. Harper sat across from him, anticipating that she wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say standing up.

  Riddick didn’t have any such compunction. He leaned over her kitchen counter, watching her. Why, she had no idea. Maybe it had become a habit for him.

  “Doll face, there’s not really an easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it.” Lucas took a deep breath. “Last night while we were transferring Phoenix from holding to his permanent facility, he escaped. Killed four cops in the process.”

  Harper sat up straighter, and suddenly her scalp felt tight. “He’s out?”

  Lucas took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “Well, he was…for about five minutes. He’s dead.”

  Now, they all knew that dead was a relative term in this day and age. “Do you mean dead dead?” she asked.

  He nodded. “The permanent kind, darlin’. We found his body about three blocks from where he left the transport van.”

  Harper rubbed her temples, doing her best to process the news. “He was staked?”

  “No. His heart was cut out.”

  Her gaze shifted to Lucas’s still-bruised temple, and instantly her brain flashed back to the moment when Phoenix had grabbed her. She hadn’t been able to walk into her bedroom since without remembering the feel of his hands tightening around her throat.

  The thought of him dying a horribly painful death didn’t exactly make her want to dance a jig of glee, but she wouldn’t be shedding tears anytime soon, either.

  But it did make her a little curious. Who could have killed him?

  Harper lifted her eyes to Riddick’s. He returned her gaze steadily, not even a trace of emotion in his eyes.

  Lucas shifted in his seat and turned to Riddick. Obviously he was a step ahead of Harper in the info-processing department. “I need to ask where you were last night.”

  “He’s been with me since I got out of the hospital,” Harper supplied automatically.

  Lucas turned back to her, his neutral cop expression firmly in place. “And he’s been here the whole time? All night last night? You can be sure of that?”

  Not at all, she thought. Her head spun. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.

  She’d dozed off around one, and she’d slept through the night after that. Riddick easily could have slipped out and—Harper swallowed hard—cut out Phoenix’s heart, then returned as if nothing had happened.

  Oh boy. Suddenly light-headed, Harper fought the urge to put her head between her knees.

  She’d never had a problem with the fact that Riddick had killed vampires. Hell, she’d even killed a few herself back in the day. But until now, she’d never realized what a fine line there was between slayer and vampire. They were both killers; only their motives differed.

  But still, this was Riddick they were talking about. The man who’d saved her life. Twice.

  Harper looked Lucas square in the eye and gave him the only answer she could. “He was with me,” she reiterated. “All night.”

  She was fully aware of what she’d just implied, and she wasn’t sure if it was jealousy or disbelief or anger that flashed through Lucas’s expression. Maybe he realized she’d just managed to look a police detective in the eye and lie blatantly.

  It kind of surprised her too. She’d always been a terrible liar. Apparently when it really counted, she could lie like a pro.

  Good to know, but not exactly something to be proud of.

  Lucas turned back to Riddick. “That true?”

  Riddick merely sipped his coffee, meeting Lucas’s eyes over the rim of his cup.

  Lucas sighed and lowered his head. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  Riddick could’ve killed Phoenix. She knew it. Lucas knew it, and could probably prove it if he worked hard enough at it.

  “What happens now?” she asked quietly.

  “Not a hell of a lot. There wasn’t any evidence left at the scene. No prints on the knife except Phoenix’s, no DNA, no witnesses. It’s pretty much a cold case. I could push it if I wanted, but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

  “But,” she prompted, “you aren’t going to?”

  He looked like he wanted to. Dearly. But after a tense moment, he shook his head. “No. I’m not too broke up that someone offed a cop killer. I doubt my Captain or the DA will be, either.”

  Harper believed him, but her intuition was telling her that part of the reason he was backing off the investigation was that she stood to be hurt if Riddick was charged with the murder.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He smiled and tapped her nose with his index finger. “I’m glad you’re OK, doll face.”

  Harper took his cup to the sink and walked him to the door. When he was gone, she faced Riddick again. She had no idea what to say. Hel
l, she had no idea how she felt.

  He’d cut out Phoenix’s heart while she slept.

  Riddick rinsed his cup and placed it in the sink. “I’m leaving for a while. I’ll be back to check on you later tonight.”

  He sounded perfectly relaxed, but she could tell from his rigid posture and the white-knuckled grip he had on her sink that he was anything but.

  “Okay,” she said, still feeling poleaxed.

  Riddick glanced at her, their eyes meeting and holding for a breathless moment, then he gave her a terse nod and strode out of the kitchen.

  She opened her mouth as he gripped the doorknob, but nothing came out. Her heart told her to say whatever it took to make him stay. Don’t ever let him go, it said. But her brain and mouth just wouldn’t cooperate.

  She flinched as the door slammed behind Riddick.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Riddick stared into his untouched beer and told himself everything was as it should be. Phoenix was dead and Harper was afraid of him. It was about time she realized she was better off without him.

  So why did he feel like he was the one who’d had his cut out?

  “You’re being an idiot. Harper is not better off without you.”

  Riddick didn’t bother looking at the man who’d slid onto the stool next to him. “Stay out of my head.”

  Hunter chuckled. “You humans think all vampires are in your heads. The truth is, most of the time, your feelings and thoughts are so transparent most of us who can don’t bother reading your minds.”

  “Transparent, huh? And what is it you think you know about me?”

  “I know you didn’t kill Phoenix.”

  Riddick snorted. “You’d better stick to reading minds. I wanted nothing more than to kill that bastard. What makes you so sure it wasn’t me?”

  “Harper wouldn’t have wanted you to kill for her. You know that. And even though you dearly wanted to kill him, you didn’t.”

  OK, so maybe Hunter didn’t have to read minds. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? Phoenix is dead and she’s sure I killed him.”