Page 28 of Semi-Reckless

“I’ll go with you,” Riddick told her. “I’ll play good cop.”

Everyone had a good chuckle at that. The idea of Noah Riddick being the “good cop” in any scenario was unfathomable. That particular brother-sister duo was more like bad cop, terrifying cop—and it was pretty much always a toss-up over who got to be terrifying at any given time.

“Nikolai and Quinn,” Harper went on, “talk to the vampires and werewolves at Midvale. See what they know.”

Roan sincerely doubted any of the creatures in the supernatural psychiatric facility knew anything that would be helpful, but he appreciated Harper’s thoroughness.

“Levi.”

The werewolf stood up straighter and met Harper’s eyes warily. “Would you and your friends be willing to regularly patrol the woods around Section 8 and let me know if you see any signs of demon activity outside the gates?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Roan rolled his eyes. The punk had been nothing but a disrespectful shithead since they’d met, but here he was, ma’am-ing Harper Hall, which proved he did have manners. He just refused to use them with, well, anyone else, it would seem.

“Haven,” Harper said, leveling her daughter with a hard look. “We’ll talk about how you willfully disobeyed my direct orders—something no one else in the entire organization has ever done, by the way, so congrats on that—and your future here when all this is over.”

Haven’s chin hit her chest. “Yeah. I’m sorry, but?—”

She held up her hand again. “I don’t really want to hear it. Like I said, we’ll talk later. My only goal right now is keeping you safe. So, I’m going to contact Mischa. You’re going to work with her to harness and control this new power of yours.” Her expression turned grim as she added, “Seems like we might need it.”

And Harper clearly hated that idea as much as Roan did. He’d pray that some other solution would present itself…except he was a demon with no one to pray to.

“Roan,” Harper snapped.

His eyes shifted to hers.

“You’re on guard duty. Can I trust you to never leave her side until this demon has been either killed or contained?”

“Of course.”

He hadn’t given the answer any thought. It had just slipped out. But it was 100% true. Unless Haven didn’t want him around. He turned and gave her a questioning look. Her eyes were wary, but she nodded. That was good.

He hadn’t done a damn thing to earn her trust. But he still wanted it.

And when all this was over, if what she wanted from him was his absence, he’d give her that, too.

Even if it killed him.

CHAPTER 14

If Haven had expected Roan to sit down with her after the big staff meeting (the worst of her life, if she was being honest) and finally, finally, finally talk to her about their extremely weird relationship, she would’ve been disappointed. But since she had expected him to once again avoid her like she was a ditch-able prom date, she was just…numb.

They didn’t say anything to each other on the way to his place to grab his go-bag. Didn’t say anything on the way to her house. Didn’t say anything when he dumped his bag in her guest room, and she went to take the longest, hottest shower known to man.

And now, squeaky clean and fully moisturized, wearing her favorite flannel sleep shorts and Stevie Nicks tank top, hair in a messy bun, fluffy rainbow-colored slippers on her feet, she was ready to cocoon herself in the cashmere throw Lane had given her as a birthday gift, watch some mindless reality TV, and forget the outside world existed. Then, if she had any luck left in this life, she’d fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But as she padded toward her kitchen for a glass of water, she discovered her dreams of avoiding her problems for the night were just that—dreams. Because her reality involved a brooding, annoyingly attractive, shirtless demon that was hunkered down at her kitchen table, nursing a tall glass of scotch.

And judging by how much of the bottle was gone and how much she knew she hadn’t consumed, she’d say he was several tall glasses into a binge.

Without a word or a glance in her direction, he downed his glass, refilled it, and shoved it across the table toward her.

Well, OK. I guess we’re talking about this now.

With a sigh, Haven took a seat at the table across from him and sipped her scotch. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and waited, because she’d be damned if she was going to start this conversation. It was his damn turn to talk for once.

He held out his hand. “Show me what you remember from that night.”

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