Page 16 of Wicked

“His murderer will serve added time.”

“What can I do?” I understand exactly what needs to be done, but if Officer Ramirez says the words, it’ll make comforting Harper okay to do.

With her back ramrod straight and her hands clenched at her sides, there’ll be no reasoning with her.

“Take her home, son. Let her boss know Harper is feeling under the weather.”

“Will do. Thank you, sir, for being so kind as to deliver the news personally.” I tip my head, then hurry back inside the diner.

I inform my friends I’ll be driving Harper home—wherever that is—before relaying Officer Ramirez’s message to Harper’s boss.

“She’ll be all right?”

“I’ll make certain,” I promise.

“Tell her to call me if she needs anything.”

“I will.” I leave the diner with Harper’s bag in my hand.

As I make my way down the steps, I see her speaking with Officer Ramirez. The other guy in the suit is waiting in the passenger seat of the SUV. The two patrol cars are gone.

Officer Ramirez pulls her in for a hug, and every fiber in my body tightens, ready to recoil and attack. Where is this from-left-field overprotectiveness coming from? I only met this girl a week ago.

“Keep at it, Harper. Fight harder. Run faster. Continue to let good people in. Let in the strong ones too. They may one day save your life.”

A premonition? Standing taller, I walk with purposeful strides. I won’t let any harm come to Harper.

To get to her, the wicked of the world will have to go through me.

7

Ryker

“Warm enough?”

I shoot her a sideways glance. She’s staring out the passenger-side window, sitting tall with her hands clasped in her lap.

“Yes, thank you.”

I tap my fingers on the steering wheel. The dash is bright. My phone is set in the cupholder, the GPS on the screen giving me directions to her place. It’s quiet, but not an awkward silence. She’s lost in thought. I am too.

I’m sorry about your father.

What can I do to make you feel better?

How can I help?

I open my mouth to tell her what’s on my mind. I don’t get the chance. Harper’s soft voice fills the silence first.

“Thank you for volunteering to drive me and my car home. I’m fine with dropping you off first, and I can take it from your place. You have an early game tomorrow. It’s all everyone talked about today.”

“You were just told your father was murdered, Harper. You shouldn’t be alone, babe.”

“Babe?” she scoffs. “I’m not your girl, Ryker. What I did at the diner, telling your friends we’re in a relationship . . .” She waves her hand. “I did it because I could tell you were bothered by your friend’s question and”—she clears her throat—“I thought my answer would make you less bothered.”

This girl is perceptive.

“After the month is through, I’d like us to be something less.”

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