Shit, it’s like looking at an older version of myself. He runs his glare over me. Quirks a brow. He’s thinking the same. I shake away the godawful suspicion Harper’s eyes didn’t widen in interest when I stared back the night of the party. Her eyes widened because I looked like her “complicated” friend.
I don’t let the murmurs derail me. The guys are catching on too. We could be brothers. Are we and we’re yanking their chain? Is that why he tolerated me speaking up for Harper? I’m certain that’s what the guys are talking smack about.
“She asked for more, man. Being the good friend you are to her, give her another round.”
I’m testing him. Testing what he is to her. To a girl I suddenly give a care for.
“Friend?” He laughs. “You think Harper and I are friends?” He shakes his head.
Behind him, Harper is quiet. He jerks his head toward the weight room.
“Everyone leave. You.” He points his finger at me. “You stay. Harper, get the fuck over here.”
I grit my teeth. From what I remember of our talks, Harper doesn’t have jerks for friends. So why is the motherload of all jerks a friend of hers?
The room goes from sweltering hot, choked with testosterone, to arctic as men bolt, making it clear who the big man is in this gym. Harper walks over with her head held high and her boxing gloves clamped against her sides.
Shephard yanks off her gloves and strips the wraps from her hands.
“Was he at your place Friday night? Is he the reason you didn’t return my calls and messages? When Mike Ramirez makes a point of contacting me, you pick up. You got that?”
“Don’t speak to me like I’m a child, Shephard. I’m grown now. You have no right. And in front of my friend.”
Oblivious to me seething on the other side of the boxing ring, he grabs her by the jaw and tugs until they’re nose to nose.
“The fuck I can’t. Don’t you ever forget who saved your life.”
Her arm shoots out. She clutches at the wrist that’s attached to the hand that has a firm hold on her jaw.
“Let her go,” I ground out.
“Or else what?” He lets go and yanks her to him. Her back hits his chest. His arm clamps over her stomach. “She’s mine. She will always be mine. You want her, you fight for her.”
Why do I suspect he’s not talking about duking it out in the ring, but life in general?
“Bring it,” I answer his challenge.
A ruthless glint in his eyes. With his free hand, he grabs her by the hair, and cranking her neck to the side, he slides his mouth down the column of Harper’s neck, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Or we share her.”
Harper gasps. “Shephard. You go too far.”
He jerks his head my way.
“This is the best you can do, Harper? There are stronger men. Have your pick of the guys in the weight room. Choose, and I’ll let you go. But choose him, and he’ll have to prove his worth. Personally, he’s not up for the challenge. I get his type, a pansy-ass motherfucker who’s only looking out for number one.”
Shit, he’s right. I should drop the idea of spending time with Harper. I don’t need this kind of drama messing with how I play the game that matters, that will get me far in life—the game of football and playing in the NFL. Harper? Harper is a dead end.
There are prettier girls. Easier lays. I don’t need the bet. Don’t need to nail Harper to get me some backdoor action. Or to get with a coed like Missy.
“He’s wavering already, love.”
“Shephard.”
A warning in her tone.
He lets her go. “Go home, Harper. Forget him.” He points at me, not being shy with his middle finger. “He’s not strong enough.”
“Shephard,” she pleads.
“I said go the fuck home, Harper!”
He shoves her away and turns his back on her.
She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t tremble. Not even her bottom lip quivers. What she does next surprises the hell out of me. She wraps her arms around him from behind, pulls his hulking body to hers with her palms on his chest, and speaks as though I’m not standing right here.
“He stayed the night Friday. In my bed. He didn’t make a move on me, Shephard. We talked.”
“So that’s it? You refuse to be with me, so you go for the next best thing, a younger version of me? That’s fucked up, Harper.”
He untangles from her hold, and the scene unfolds before my eyes like I’m going through a mind-blowing, out-of-body experience.
“It won’t work between us.”
“Why the hell not?” He thrusts his fingers in his hair and yanks. “Why the fuck can’t we give it a try?”
“You’ve seen me at my lowest. How can you ever see me any other way than on my knees with—”
“Don’t fucking say it, Harper.”
He grabs her arm, yanks, and pulls until she’s flushed against his body, looking up at him, balanced on the tips of her toes.
“Don’t dredge up the past. We buried that part of our lives years ago.”
He crushes her to his chest. I can’t move. I’m a captive audience, a stupid insect caught in their web of what-the-fuckery.
“Did we? What were you doing in Chicago?”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Everything to do with us and home is.”
She wrestles out of his hold, ducks under the ropes, and lacing her fingers through mine, she, unbeknownst to me, declares a war of will and of the heart.
“I belong with him. Don’t ever question my choice again. Ever.”
Part Two
Wicked.
She’s as wicked as they come.
Tempting me with hair dark as night.
Eyes as blue as the ocean waves.
Wicked, her coy smile.
Her teasing.
She’s as wicked as they come, and I will crush her soul until she squeals her come.
12
Harper
I lurch up in bed, gasping for air, drenched with sweat, reliving my nightmares of being confined and humiliated over and over as they took turns holding a gun to my head.
It’s stifling inside my bedroom. There’s no a/c. I don’t dare open the windows above my bed.
He comes to me in my sleep. They all do. The guys who hurt me. Though three of them are buried six feet underground, I’m scared their ghosts will slip inside a cracked window.
An incandescent glow lights up the room. I lay back in bed and fumble for my cell on the nightstand. Squinting, I glance at the screen. It’s another text message from Shephard. A string of apologies. My cell rings. Too tired to refuse him, I answer.
“Harper, please—”
“I’ll only accept your apology if you apologize to Ryker for being an ass.”
“Our runs—”
“I can do with him.”
“You taking me on in the ring?”
“I can put on hold. Or ask one of the guys.”
“Over my dead body.”
I grit my teeth and focus on the reason for us fighting like an old married couple. “Is a simple apology too much to ask?”
“I have some semblance of pride.”
“Be the bigger man,” I reason. “You had no right treating me or him that way. In fact, you should apologize to me in front of the guys too.”
Shephard is right. Any one of those men surrounding the ring that day would readily agree to stand by my side and protect me from the wicked that is coming for me, but being near them, talking with them, doesn’t send tingles of awareness through my body like how Ryker affects me. And yes, he and Shephard look alike, so much so they could be brothers. But there are noticeable differences.
Shephard’s body is lean muscles, while Ryker’s is all bulk. I like his bulk. Like when my small body is tucked into Ryker’s bulkiness, my butt cradled into his crotch, his chest pressing into my back as we lay in bed the night he stayed with me rather than letting me grieve the loss of m
y father alone.
Both men’s hair are the same rich dark chocolate. Except there’s random copper strands in Ryker’s when the sun hits his hair.
Shephard’s eyes are blue, and Ryker’s, green. Etched into the corners of Shephard’s eyes are laugh lines. I love those lines. Shephard is inked everywhere, but Ryker . . . Ryker’s skin is flawless and untouched by ink.
“Harper?”
Oh, shit, I’d cut out of the conversation.
“I’m sorry, I was distracted.”
He curses. “Is he with you?”
“After witnessing what happened between us?” I blow out a breath and give Shephard the hard truth. “He canceled on me and the kids.”
Later that day, Shephard and I talked. No, not talked, but screamed at one another. And somewhere between bringing up a past that binds us and the present moment, I blurted out Ryker was spending time with me and the kids.
Time with the boys and girls who mean so much to me is something Shephard was never interested in. He said it was beneath him as a man to be caught roller skating or trampoline jumping. He’s an ex-cop, ex-Special Forces, for shit’s sakes. His words.
For some reason, that piece of news infuriated him. Thank goodness I didn’t tell him Ryker is only spending time with me, and by default the kids, to win a bet. Otherwise, Shephard will do worse than end the call. If only Shephard would let go of his sense of obligation to protect me at all costs. But there’s more than obligation at stake. There’s a promise too. Promises.
“I get him skipping out on you. I wouldn’t want to wear the opposing team’s jersey either.”
“It was meant to show the kids it’s okay to cheer for the underdogs.” Tomorrow night, Ryker and his teammates are playing last year’s worst-ranked team on their turf.
“His teammates would’ve given him shit if they found out. Conflict on a team this early in the game is a bad idea, love.”
“You should stop calling me that. I made my choice.”
“To spite me?”
“To move forward.”
“Without me?”
“No. Always together. You’re my friend, Shephard.”
Silence.
Seconds tick by.
Finally, he speaks. “You forget he has to choose you too. Action speaks louder than words.”
Ryker walked me to my car but left with that jerk Brett, not even sparing me a backward glance. Am I wrong? Is he more like Brett than I thought?
I accepted his offer of “anything” in the hopes I’d wear him down and get him to drop the bet in futility, but Ryker is persistent. Fun to be around too. Surprises me with how big his heart is when he shows me that side of him. And the way my body reacts when near him . . . I sigh.
The arrangement is supposed to be temporary. I’d let it go on for two weeks, tops. That was my plan. But my dad’s murder changed everything.
I return to the conversation. “You’re scared.”
“Concerned. I’m worried you chose wrong. That you picked a weak link to unseat me from my spot as top dog in your life.”
“A guard dog I never wanted.”
“You’ve always wanted me, Harper. It’s what got us in trouble in the first place. Had you dropped the idea of us together, we’d—”
“Live different lives, apart. Instead, you let a dying man guilt you into making a promise.”
“Me at your side has nothing to do with guilt but an obligation to keep you safe. That boy you picked isn’t it. He will never be strong enough to take my place.”
I ignore the possessiveness in his voice. It never goes away. Only grows stronger with time.
“He’s a man, Shephard.”
“Your father was a man. Mike Ramirez is a man. Just because your man looks like one doesn’t mean he has the honor and strength to do right by you.”
“Give me the chance to prove he’s the one.”
“Whatcha gonna do, let him fuck you?”
I’m silent for so long, I don’t have to speak my answer.
“You can’t be serious. Do you know what his nickname is on the app girls on campus use to rate guys they’ve slept with?”
“I do. I also know he’s into open relationships.”
“Is that what you want, little one? To know on nights he’s not with you, he’s with someone else?”
No, but I don’t give Ryker’s preference for open relationships much thought beyond the moment. Ever since my assault and Shephard’s and my move to Prescott, all we’ve done is plan. I long to live in the moment. To not have my past nipping at my heels. I just want to figure out things with Ryker as I go.
Not the best plan. He’s an obvious heartbreaker. But it’s not like I’ll be falling for him.
“What does he rate between the sheets? Did you pay attention to that rating? I did. The girls he slept with rave of how great he is in bed.”
An exasperated sigh from the other end of the line. “If that’s all you’re looking for in a bed partner, I can give you that.”
“We’ve gone over this. You’re too close to my past to make a future between us work.”
“In the end, who you fuck doesn’t change what matters most. Will he accept you for you after hearing of the godawful shit you went through in that hellhole?”
He’s right. Then again, Shephard always is. It’s the reason I listen to him. The reason I follow the rules he sets for me though I’m not always happy when I stick by them.
“Eventually, you have to let me go, Shephard. You can’t fight my fight forever. I need . . .” My throat tightens. I blink back my tears. “I want you to live your own life too. Please.”
“Not yet. Not until I know you’re safe.”
My mind reasons for me to accept his words. He knows of my messed-up past. A past no man on earth will ever understand or put up with in a woman he’d want to be with. My heart, though, has a different message. It’s telling me I should be the one who does the letting go. To give up Shephard’s protection and not replace it with another’s.
“If I want something permanent with him, will you give me up?” Acceptance and letting go flows both ways. “Ryker is willing to do anything, Shephard.”
I asked. I bargained. I’m willing to propose a compromise that will save Shephard’s and my friendship. It’s my heart we’re speaking of. And the rest of my life. But Ryker Conway has to back up his words with action.
“If he’s willing to risk his career in the NFL for a chance at happiness with you, then, yes, Harper, I will let you go.”
13
Harper
“Why didn’t he come skate and jump with us?”
“He was busy.” I’ve already told April this, but she’s fishing for a different answer.
“Will he show today? He lost. He’s supposed to pay.”
She’s indignant. Hurt feelings too. We walk inside the huge warehouse that houses the indoor park.
Sighing, I pull her to me. “I don’t think so, sweetie. He and his team won last night’s game. I’m sure he was out late celebrating and is too tired”—wasted—“to make his way here.”
Ryker probably went home with one or more willing coed too. How can a guy who’s into open relationships refuse any propositions thrown his way?
“Hey, Harper. April.”
That deep voice . . . Cocky. Unapologetic. I hold back the urge to throw my arms around Ryker’s neck and plant a kiss on the curve of his cheek. Or give him the cold shoulder for cancelling on me and the kids.
Instead, I opt for something in between. I hang back but greedily take in how nicely his shirt stretches across his wide shoulders and broad chest and clings to his tight abs. And the sinewy muscles lining his arms… He notices me admiring the results of his time in the gym and flexes his arms, shooting me a knowing smile, his head tilting to the side.
Near the hostess’ podium are the rest of the kids and their parents. Ryker extends his hands to us. Our hands in his, we make our way to the large group. After Ryker pays, the pa
rents leave, thanking us on their way out. The kids’ excited voices float ahead of us.
“What the hell did I get myself roped into?” A teasing lilt in his voice.
“Two hours of water slides, splash pools, and water fights.” I clasp my hands behind my back, my steps airy as we make our way to the locker rooms.
He laughs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Unable to stop smiling, I tip my head at the girls’ locker room. “See you on the other side.”
“You better. No way can I handle eight kids.” He disappears inside the boys’ locker room.
“He made it.” April beams.
I find a locker for our clothes. “He did.”
What I want to say is to not let him grow on her. That she shouldn’t get used to having him around. But I don’t.
April might think she knows a thing or two about boys, having had a crush on Parker for the last year, but I want her to stay innocent about the ways a man and a woman can hurt one another for as long as possible.
Her mother was the love of her father’s life. Pete lost his wife to a drowning accident when April was ten. At least April had the chance to know her mother and witness for herself what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like.
The girls and I exit the locker room and head for where the boys are waiting next to a row of empty lounge chairs. The water park is busy but not so busy that the kids are waiting in line to go down the giant water slide or for us to be on the lookout for empty chairs to snag as soon as they’re unoccupied.
I unwrap the towel from around my waist and cover the lounge chair with it, giving me a soft place to watch the kids from, though there are lifeguards everywhere.
From the corner of my eye, Ryker does the same. I’m about to sprawl out on the chair when large hands grab me under my arms and haul me against and then down onto his body as he settles us in his chair.
The lounge chair is low to the floor. I’m seated between his thighs, his bare feet on the spongy ground. His chest hair caresses my bare back. His large arms wrap around my midriff and tug me closer to his heat.
Wicked (Dangerous Liaisons Book 1) Page 6
