Wicked (Dangerous Liaisons Book 1)

by Ashlyn Mathews

  “Harper. Babe.”

  Ryker reaches for me. I sidestep him and cross my arms.

  “I don’t want to cause friction between you and your teammates.”

  “You’re not.” His big shoulders rise and fall. “They . . . The shit Missy is spreading on campus makes the guys uncomfortable. Some of them have sisters. They all have mothers. They see their women in you, sweetheart, and they don’t know how to act when around you.”

  “Same as before. They shouldn’t treat me any differently.”

  “But you are different.”

  “You mean not normal, don’t you?”

  “I meant what I said. Different is you, and I want you for you. Don’t ever forget that. What kills me is the shit you went through to become the person you are now. If I could go back in time, I’d beat the shit out of Shephard’s brother and those punk friends of his. No one lays a hand on you. Ever.”

  Ryker likes me for me. My abnormal is his different, and for someone other than Shephard to see me as more than the girl that went through a horrific and traumatic experience . . . His words give me hope that I can finally be whole and right again.

  In Ryker’s eyes, I’ll never be anyone less than the girl he wants to protect with his whole being. But when the wicked comes for me, when the private investigator he’s hired digs up and exposes the proverbial skeletons in my closet, will Ryker feel the same?

  Or will he choose to take the path of less resistance and follow it to his dreams to playing football in the NFL, free of the complications that would come from having me in his life.

  No one lays a hand on you. Ever.

  No one will, but if Sam and his friends get past Shephard’s and my defenses, I don’t ever want Ryker to see me helpless and on my knees. I’d rather die than face that humiliation in front of the guy I love.

  Oh, God, I love him.

  “Ryker?”

  “Yes, babe?”

  “There’s something I have to tell you. And you don’t have to say it just because I’m saying it.” I have to tell him. No regrets. No holding back. Not when there’s too much at stake with Sam getting out of prison in a week.

  “Ryker, I . . .” My stomach knots. My heart beats a fast rhythm. “Ryker, I love you.”

  Cheesy grin on his face. “You do?”

  I nod.

  “How much?”

  My eyebrows tug low. “Is that a trick question?”

  “Answering a question with another question?” He steps close. “I like.”

  Suddenly, I find myself slung over his shoulder, staring at the ground.

  “What are you doing?” I’m laughing. Can’t stop the sounds of happiness from slipping from my mouth.

  “I plan on showing you how much you mean to me too.”

  He can’t say the words yet, and I’m fine with that. I have to be. His father won his mother’s heart through patience, friendship, and acceptance. I’ll wait for Ryker to figure out if he feels the same for me. And if he comes to the realization that he doesn’t, I can live with that, too. Free will is important, and he has every right to choose who he wants and doesn’t want in his life.

  I would never take his free will away. Or jeopardize his chances of making his future dreams come true.

  Desire. Lust. Obsession. Possession.

  You are mine. I am yours.

  Run and I will come after you.

  Fight and I will hold you tight until the fight dies from you breath by breath.

  Love another and your world will go out with a bang.

  I will never be like my father.

  I will fight when Sam comes for me.

  And if Ryker doesn’t love me back, life will go on.

  It has to.

  27

  Harper

  “You sure about this?”

  “Yes.” I stick my wireless earbuds in. “I need something other than you barking orders at me.”

  After Ryker and I made love, making up the excuse that sex speeds up the heart rate as nicely as a good run and sex is a more enjoyable way of working up a sweat, he dropped me off at the gym before going off to do something so secretive, he didn’t budge when I tempted him with sex in the shower in exchange for telling.

  What is so important he turned down sex?

  Shephard’s laughter pulls me out of my thoughts. He collars me around the neck and rubs his knuckles over my hair. Before I can protest, he yanks out my earbuds and tosses them next to my phone set in the corner of the boxing ring.

  He taps at his black headguard that’s identical to mine. “Play your music loud and proud for me, too, yeah? We both need to let off some steam.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You can’t keep anything from me, Harper.”

  Blinking, I put on my best poker face. He cannot know of Missy talking shit about me. Otherwise, she is in for a reaming, among other things. Shephard can take overprotective to the extreme.

  “But you can continue to avoid telling me what you were doing in Chicago?”

  “It’s for your safety.”

  “My safety or were you making a deal with Sam behind my back? I don’t find it a coincidence that my father was murdered after you went home again.”

  His eyes darken with an emotion I know well—fear—before he blinks.

  “What did you do, Shephard?” I step toward him. An audience is gathering around us.

  “It’s no business of yours.” His voice is low, lethal.

  He wants me to back off. I refuse.

  “Everything to do with home and him is always my business. Always.”

  He glares. Opens his mouth. Not giving him the chance to speak more empty words, I stomp over to my phone and push play. My playlist blasts loud and proud on the speakers mounted on the walls. We pop in our mouthguards and don our gloves.

  “Take What You Want” by Post Malone, Ozzy Osbourne, and Travis Scott flows through me.

  Inhaling deep breaths, I close my eyes and center myself. Centering myself is thinking of Ryker. I imagine him running the pad of his finger over my brows. Reassuring. Calming.

  Picture him dropping kisses on my freckles. Acceptance. Tenderness. Remember how hot I got when his tongue tasted and teased the corners of my mouth. A smile spans my face. I’m ready to take on Shephard.

  I open my eyes and skitter back. Jump up and down. Pound my boxing gloves together. Crane my neck side to side and roll my shoulders. Shephard gestures for me to come and get him. I focus on his eyes. They tend to give him away. His gaze darts to the left of my head before he swings. I block his blow. Bend at the knees. Go low and slam my glove into his gut.

  Grunting, he backs up. I tsk. Distance is not his friend. Uh-huh. I close the gap.

  “Last Resort” by Papa Roach plays. The lyrics speak to me. I lost my mother to my father’s gun. Lost my father to his jealousy and obsession with my mother. I push forward. Shephard and I dance around one another. His height not giving him an advantage, I lurch forward and aim for his side.

  My glove connects with his body. I dart to my right. Punch. Slam. Pound. Over and over, I hit his right flank, over his kidney. He doubles over.

  This is my chance; Shephard recovers fast. Clasping his head between my gloves, I knee him in the stomach. Bam. Bam. Bam. I let go.

  He raises his head. I clobber him with a right hook. His head whips to the side. Spittle flies from his mouth, giving me a glimpse of his mouthguard. Left hook. Right hook. Right. Left. He teeters. This is it. This is it.

  Out of breath, my heartbeats loud in my ears, I kick his legs out from beneath him. He lands on his stomach with a resounding thud.

  I drop on his body, and shoving my knee between his shoulder blades, I yank his arms back. More. More. Putting my weight on my knee, I pull. He slaps his palm onto the mat, tapping out.

  I let go and roll off him.

  He’s not done with me. His body slides over mine. Large hands near my head. He takes off his gloves, headguard and mouthguard. Str
ips me of mine. Thick fingers swipe at the sweat beading along my hairline. His blue-eyed gaze touches mine. Drops to my mouth.

  We’re breathing hard for a different reason other than going at each other with our gloves. His attention hangs on my mouth and dips to the swells of my breasts beneath my tank top. The intensity in Shephard’s eyes, the way he’s licking his lips, adrenaline rushes through my veins and I need . . . I need Ryker.

  Shephard sees the truth on my face. Cursing, he pushes off me and onto his feet. I take the hand he offers. My heartbeat slows. I walk over and shut off the music. Masculine murmurs in the room.

  I face the crowd. Except there are guys other than the gym regulars.

  “What do we have here?” Shephard’s arm curves over my lower back, and I’m anchored against his side.

  “I’m giving the guys the option to pick a different gym other than the one on campus.”

  “What you did is badass, little miss.” Thumbs hooked on the pockets of his jeans, Joey tips his head and studies me as though seeing me for the first time.

  The football guys echo their agreement.

  “Thank you,” I say, my cheeks heating.

  “What brought this on?” Shephard directs his question at Ryker. I give Ryker a slight shake of my head. The guys follow the exchange with brows raised and arms crossed.

  They’re not liking Shephard’s sharp-as-steel tone.

  “Nothing but business. You like new business, don’t you, Shephard?” Ryker drawls, his eyes on my hands grasped in Shephard’s as he undoes the wraps that give my hands extra protection.

  “Yeah, I do, but I also prefer people don’t stick their noses where they don’t belong.” Pointed glance at Ryker. “If you boys are interested in joining my gym, I’ll waive the start-up fee, give you the first three months free, and offer one-on-one boxing lessons. See Brittany at the front desk.”

  What Shephard offered is a steal of a deal and the guys clearly understand. With smiles on their faces, they leave the room. Brittany’s chirpy voice filters from the front of the lobby. “Shephard did what? He’s never given out that kind of deal. Sign all you guys up?”

  I shake my head. Walk over and pick up my phone.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Do what, Harper?”

  “Involve his teammates in our business?”

  “Like I said, if he’s willing to risk his football career for you, he’ll be strong enough to deal with whatever shit rolls your way, love.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  Ryker didn’t leave with his teammates. He’s waiting for me, watching us near the bench presses.

  “All’s fair in love and war. Or did you forget we are heading for a war of possession and obsession?”

  “The very reason Ryker’s teammates shouldn’t be anywhere near us.”

  “It’s done, Harper.” He grasps my chin. Searches my face. “We live with the consequences of our decisions and actions. You most of all should know this lesson well. You made your bed, love. It’s time to finish what you started.”

  His mouth crashing over mine catches me by surprise. After having his ass handed to him, I’m expecting Shephard’s kiss to be rough and unforgiving. It’s not. His kiss is gentle. Think, don’t feel, and I don’t feel . . . a thing.

  There isn’t fluttering in my stomach. No curling of my toes or throbbing between my legs. I break off the kiss. Find Ryker. Our gazes lock. The way he’s staring back at me . . .

  Butterflies collide in my stomach. My heartbeat picks up. Heat licks up and down my spine. My sex throbs.

  I need.

  I want.

  I want and need Ryker Conway.

  28

  Ryker

  Seeing that bastard Shephard kiss my girl tore my heart to pieces. Reading her text messages from two days ago inflame the green-eyed monster in me.

  A rip-roaring jealousy that never lived and breathed in my simple life until Harper Garrix dropped into my world.

  I grab at my hair and pace in the living room. This dark and intense jealousy will get me the fuck in trouble. I sit, and grabbing my cell, I read through the texts from Harper.

  Harper: Can’t make Wednesday, Thursday. Forgot to tell you. Ride-along with Daniel’s brother, Josh

  Me: The cop that has a major boner for you?

  Harper: U r so crass

  Me: Well?

  Silence.

  Me: I’m sorry

  Crickets.

  Me: Well?

  Harper: Yes, same guy

  Me: And?

  Harper: And what?

  Me: Why him? Why not some other cop that doesn’t want inside your pants?

  Harper’s major is Criminal Justice and Criminology. After she graduates with her degree, she’d like to get a job with the Prescott Police Department as a crime scene investigator, working alongside the men and women she admires.

  Harper: He’s a nice guy, Ryker. I told him about us

  Me: Doesn’t matter. There are guys that like the challenge of taking what’s not theirs

  Harper: The kiss was an innocent one

  Me: Shephard had no right. U r mine

  Harper: Don’t

  Don’t?

  Me: I’m your guy. Or does ‘if I sleep with you, it’ll only be with you’ not mean anything to u?

  Harper: I love you

  Her words are powerful and control me in a way that has me hot under the collar. I shouldn’t let her wield that kind of power over my heart. I let a girl do that once, and look what it did—stripped me of the mindset to give a flying fuck. Made me hone my focus on football, untouched by the complications of caring for anyone other than my folks and winning.

  It’s what I should be concentrating on—my future. Instead, I’m living in the moment, trying to understand my girl and her sudden change to do something other than our routine of spending time with me and the kids.

  I read through the rest of our messages.

  Harper: I’ll see you Friday. Please be in a better mood

  Me: Thursday?

  Me: Another ride-along?

  Harper: It’s Shephard’s birthday.

  Me: I see

  Harper: He’s my friend. Understanding and patience, remember?

  Me: I’ll see you Friday

  It’s Friday night, and I haven’t heard from her, other than a text from last night saying the kids won’t be spending time with us. She’d like us to have alone time before I head out tomorrow morning for an away game in Utah.

  I’m ready to text her where the fuck is she, but my phone pings. A message from an unknown number. Strange. I open the message. Or more like video message. The image is grainy, the action happening in the shadows of the dim lighting. I turn up the volume. Rustling of clothes. Raspy breathing. A small, slender body falling on the bed. Mass of long onyx hair. Hulking body following. Moans. Kissing. Groaning.

  “Harper, baby, God, I miss this. Miss you. Give it to me good, love.”

  Deep voice. Authoritative. Preening. Shephard.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  My phone rings, startling the hell out of me.

  I glance at the screen. It’s Ken. I cool my temper. It’s not Ken I’m pissed at.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Ryker, I have the information you asked for. Thanks for your patience and understanding, son.”

  “My condolences.” A death in his family. I never want to know what it’s like to lose a parent. “What do you have?”

  “It’s not good. The information was hard to come by. I had to make a trip to Chicago.”

  “Add the expense to your bill.” I’ll gladly pay him for the extra effort. He does it to keep me and my family safe.

  “Ryker, this girl . . . She’s dangerous. You need to cut your losses, kid.”

  I rise off the couch and pace. “Spill.”

  Big sigh. “Something happened to her when she was seventeen. The records are sealed, but I was able to correlate the time frame with w
hat happened to her friends and her boyfriend.”

  Friends? Harper never spoke of friends.

  “Her boyfriend was convicted of forcible rape and assault with a deadly weapon and sentenced to five years in prison. He’s due to be released next week. Your girl’s friends, guys she hung with, friends of her boyfriend, Sam Taylor, were shot and killed by his older brother, Shephard Taylor. He claimed it was self-defense. That the guys pulled their guns on him when he saved a girl from rape. He found her off an anonymous tip sent to him personally.”

  “That’s what’s in the police report?”

  “Yes.”

  “The girl’s name?”

  “Redacted for her safety. Strange thing, the victim refused a sexual assault exam.”

  Forcible rape. Yet, Harper was a virgin.

  “Could she have refused because she was untouched and that might have swayed a judge to hand down a different sentence that doesn’t include rape?”

  “Son, there’s a different question behind your ask, and let me fill you in. The definition of rape changed a few years ago and includes oral. Do you understand?”

  Good God, I do. “What else?”

  “Your girl’s uncle responded to the call after Officer Shephard Taylor. One of the perps was down but not dead. He shot Officer Garrix. After Harper Garrix buried her uncle, she went to live with Officer Mike Ramirez and his family rather than enter the foster care system. She was a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday. Officer Ramirez was the responding officer when Harper’s father murdered her mother and her mother’s lover in cold blood.”

  What Ken says confirms everything Harper told me of her life after her uncle’s death. Soon, Ken will affirm the next truths. Harper went to live with Shephard. They later moved to Prescott for Harper’s college education and to be near her uncle’s best friend, Detective Pete Greene.

  But I’m not prepared for what Ken tells me.

  “When she turned eighteen, she went to live with Shephard Taylor. Ryker, they . . . they filed for a marriage license.”

  “She’s married?” My world tilts off its axis. Complicated. Innocent kiss. I love you. None of it will right my fucked-up world.