Harper Hall Investigations Complete Series

by Isabel Jordan

  She let her gaze move over him, before meeting his eyes once more. She shook her head. “You thought you could come here and bribe him to fight for your boss?” A harsh laugh escaped her. “You assumed he was like you and would fight for the highest bidder. He’s only fighting to save me. That kind of selflessness is something a narcissistic psychopath like you could never understand.”

  Harper leaned forward and made sure she had his full attention before adding, “He’s nothing like you. He’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”

  His hand shot out and latched onto her wrist. She barely resisted a smirk. He’d done exactly what she’d wanted him to do.

  I am the puppet master.

  She pretended to listen to what he was saying, but kept the majority of her focus on the vision he was unwittingly feeding her.

  In that moment, Harper wanted to kiss Hunter square on the mouth. His breathing and relaxation techniques were ten times more effective than anything Sentry ever taught her.

  The vision flowed seamlessly and only gave her a minor headache instead of the crippling, shooting pain through her temples she usually experienced. She was able to pick up everything: what had happened to Riddick’s sister, what Ken’s relationship with Riddick’s mother had really been like, what would happen to Ken if he failed to convince Riddick to fight for the Lykoi.

  What Ken planned to do to Riddick if he couldn’t win their fight.

  She gritted her teeth. No fucking way was she letting that happen.

  Harper used all her weight and his grip on her wrist to yank Ken toward her, then she slammed her palm into his nose. He fell back into his chair with a grunt and wiped his bloody nose on his shirt sleeve.

  “For that alone, you’ll die, little girl.”

  Which would’ve been a really scary threat if he hadn’t sounded all nasal when he said it. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Thanks for the information.”

  And with that, she gave him the finger—yeah, it was childish, but she couldn’t help herself—and ran out of the bar to find Romeo and Riddick.

  When she hit the hotel lobby, she came face to face with Romeo, who had his head tipped back and was pinching his bloody nose closed. She closed her eyes and did her best to gather her patience. “You lost him?”

  He gave her a hard look. Well, it was about as hard as a guy holding his nose closed could manage, at least. That look was answer enough.

  Riddick had only stopped long enough to dissuade Romeo from following him. He was now in the wind. Probably once again thinking he was a dangerous killer like his father.

  “Aaaarrrggghhh!” Harper shouted, drawing nervous stares from everyone in the lobby. She threw her hands up in frustration, turned on her heel and headed back toward the elevators.

  Time to go back to the room and formulate a plan to save the day. Again. By herself.

  “I fucking hate Vegas,” she muttered, snatching her phone out of Romeo’s pocket.

  ***

  Everything happened all at once. The lights came on, the elevator started moving again, Mischa’s phone rang, blaring I’m Too Sexy, and she realized she couldn’t see a damn thing.

  “Son of a bitch! Why can’t I see?”

  Hunter calmly slid the glasses off her nose and polished them on his shirt. Oh. Apparently she couldn’t see because her glasses were all fogged up.

  She felt a blush creeping over her skin as she thought about why they were all fogged up.

  OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod.

  This is bad.

  That was awesome.

  I possibly just made the best mistake of my life.

  And on that incoherent jumble of thoughts, both sides of her brain, her heart, and her body all agreed.

  Her breathing hitched as he slid the glasses back onto her face and gently kissed the tip of her nose before smiling down at her.

  That’s when she officially decided to tell all the voices to piss off. She’d just had mind-blowing sex against the wall in an elevator with a guy who cleaned her glasses for her and smiled at her as if she was the most beautiful, fascinating creature on the planet.

  Sure, it would be nice if he was alive—and if she hadn’t tried to have him executed him a few times—but hey, she wasn’t about to nitpick at this point. Nobody was perfect.

  A good orgasm—or five—had apparently given her a whole new outlook on life. Who knew?

  Mischa snagged her phone off the floor. “Hello?”

  There was a pause on the other end before Harper asked, “Why do you sound like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “Relaxed. Happy. Slightly out of breath.”

  She glanced up at Hunter, who smirked. “I said one word. How do you get all of that out of one word?”

  “Because I know you. You never sound relaxed and happy and slightly out of breath.”

  Mischa frowned. Well if that didn’t make her sound like the most uninteresting woman on the planet she didn’t know what would. “I was exercising.”

  Harper snorted. “You don’t exercise. Unless you count pressing the ‘Next page’ button on your Kindle. Try again.”

  And that made her sound lazy and uninteresting. Time to try another tactic. “Fine. I was having sex in an elevator with Hunter.”

  He raised a brow at her. She just shrugged. It was worth a shot.

  Harper sighed. “You’re not even trying to come up with a convincing lie. But if you don’t want to tell me—fine, don’t tell me. Were you able to find any leads on a cure?”

  And the fact that Harper didn’t even believe the truth made her sound sexless, lazy, and uninteresting. Maybe it was time she considered making an effort to change her image.

  Mischa briefly filled Harper in on everything from kidnapping Leon to current, only leaving out the sex she’d just had. Mind-blowing sex of the five-orgasm variety.

  Sex that she could have again if Harper got off the damn phone.

  She glanced over at Hunter, whose already-dark eyes darkened even more as her gaze moved over him, plotting a path for her fingers—and maybe her tongue—to follow later.

  Mischa shivered and shook off the lust lingering in her system. Harper was using her serious tone. Time to focus.

  “Leon thinks he can be done by morning,” Mischa said. “I’m booked on the 10:00am flight out of JFK. We’ll be there well before Riddick’s fight.”

  Harper sighed. “Well, thank God something is going right,” she muttered. “Thank you.”

  Mischa waited for her to make some snide comment, but she never did. That’s how she knew her friend was stressed out. Harper never missed an opportunity to crack a joke. And she also never got too stressed out about her own problems, which meant she was probably more worried about Riddick than she was for herself at the moment. “How is Riddick doing?”

  Harper took a deep breath before unloading a story that left Mischa in wide-eyed, speechless shock for a full three minutes before she said, “Shit.”

  “I know, right?”

  Mischa shook her head, still not sure she’d heard everything correctly. “So, if naturals were really a Sentry science project, why were they all killed when Sentry disbanded?”

  “I have no idea,” Harper said. “Maybe your buddy Leon knows. I’m sure his clearance was higher than ours.”

  Mischa was starting to think everyone’s security clearance had been higher than hers. Kirk the janitor had probably known more about the inner workings of the agency than she had. “You can ask him yourself. He’s coming with me to Vegas. He apparently needs some of your blood to finish off his antidote. He’s a big fan of yours, too.”

  “Great,” Harper said dryly. “Just what I need.”

  “What else can I do?”

  A long sigh on Harper’s end of the call. “Well, I have a plan, but it’ll take a good bit of coordination on your part. Are you up for it?”

  Mischa scoffed. “Of course I am. Coordination is kind of my thing. What do I need to do?”

  She listene
d for a bit longer before realizing that she’d been wrong to scoff so quickly at Harper’s concern. There was coordination, and then there was what Harper needed her to do. On a scale of difficulty for the coordinator, Harper’s plan ranked somewhere just above organizing a Van Halen tour that included both David Lee Roth and Sammy Hagar on stage at the same time. The end result would either be magical, or a train wreck of epic proportions. There was no middle ground on this one.

  “Are you sure?” Mischa asked tentatively.

  Harper paused before answering, which was less than encouraging. Finally, she said, “Yes. I’m sure.”

  Mischa nodded. “All right then. I’ll do it.”

  “Thank you. And Mischa?”

  “Yeah?”

  Another long pause. “I, uh…”

  Her eyes filled with tears. She didn’t need her to finish that sentence. She could hear it in her friend’s voice. “Me, too, Harper. Me too.”

  Harper cleared her throat. “Fine. Good. Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

  They said their goodbyes and Mischa ended the call just as the elevator doors opened and Hunter stepped out.

  He shifted his gaze away from hers and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “So, you didn’t tell me you were leaving tomorrow.”

  She frowned. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I just…didn’t think about it until Harper called.”

  He nodded, still not looking at her. “Will I see you when you get back?”

  Understanding dawned on her. He was assuming that their time in the elevator had been a one-shot deal that she’d spend days flogging herself about. And maybe the old Mischa would have. But the new Mischa?

  She took a step toward him. “Hunter?”

  His brows raised, but he still didn’t look at her.

  “I don’t want what happened in the elevator to stay in the elevator,” she said quietly.

  His head shot up and he met her gaze, cocking his head to one side. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Her breath was instantly crushed out of her lungs as he crossed the distance between them and yanked her into a tight hug.

  “As you wish,” he whispered into her hair.

  And all the voices inside her finally agreed that she’d made the right choice, maybe for the first and last time in her life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  By the time Mischa arrived the next day, Harper was in serious danger of losing her mind. Riddick hadn’t come home the night before, and not knowing where he was or what kind of I’m-a-dangerous-killer-who-doesn’t-deserve-to-be-with-you foolishness was going through his head was torturing her.

  She was pacing the floor when she heard someone dragging a rolling bag down the hall outside her room. When she opened the door, Mischa was in the doorway with her hand poised in mid-air.

  “Your clairvoyance works without physical contact now?” her friend asked. “Impressive.”

  “No, you just sound like a drunk elephant stomping down my hallway.”

  Harper moved out of the way so that Mischa could drag her bag into the room. When she was inside, Harper couldn’t stand it any longer and grabbed her.

  Mischa groaned, but hugged her back with equal enthusiasm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Harper let out a shuddering sigh, not letting Mischa go. “Misch, my life is fifty shades of what-the-fuckery right now.”

  Mischa tightened her hold. “Oh, baby, that’s nothing new for you. And what’s fifty shades of what-the-fuckery for normal people is for you just…Tuesday. So, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re going to be just fine.”

  And that’s why she loved this woman. No pulling punches, no platitudes. Just solid, unwavering support. Not totally down with empathy, but supportive nonetheless. “You’re right. I am okay. But Riddick didn’t come home last night.”

  Mischa leaned back and shrugged. “He probably just needed some time to think. His father, a sister, his mom…it was a lot to take in.”

  Harper sighed and took a step back. “I’m sure you’re right.”

  Harper didn’t sound convincing saying it, and Mischa certainly didn’t look convinced.

  What a pair they made.

  Romeo wandered out of the bedroom and yawned, hair sticking up in all possible directions. Shit, Harper thought, just because I didn’t sleep in the bed didn’t mean it was OK for him to sleep in it. Note to self: make sure maid service changes sheets today. He blinked blearily at Harper. “Hey, Harpy, we got any coffee?”

  When she didn’t answer, he squinted in Mischa’s direction as he absently scratched his bare chest. “Is that you, Little Hitler?”

  Harper winced. The nerds Mischa worked with at TEV Technologies had coined the nickname because of her pocket-sized frame and Napoleon-esque management style. And as much as Harper hated being called Harpy, that was still only a fraction of how much Mischa hated being called Little Hitler.

  But Mischa didn’t chew him out like Harper expected. Instead, she smiled a serene smile and nodded. “Yep. It’s me, Romeo.”

  She moved toward him, arms wide open as if she intended to give him a great big welcome hug. That’s when Harper knew something was up.

  Mischa only ever hugged…well, her as far as she knew.

  Sure enough, when Romeo stepped toward her, Mischa moved in fast and brought her knee up hard into Romeo’s groin.

  With a squeak reminiscent of a frightened toddler—a frightened, female toddler—Romeo dropped to the ground like a wet towel.

  “Nice to see you again, Romeo,” Mischa said calmly as she stepped over his prone body and moved to the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water.

  Yeah, if she was gay, she’d totally marry this woman, because she fucking loved her.

  Harper stepped around Romeo instead of over him and followed Mischa into the kitchenette. She hoisted herself up on the counter. “So, were you able to gather everyone?”

  Mischa took a sip of water and gave her a disdainful stare over the top of her glasses. “Did you ever doubt me?”

  She had, at least a little bit. Her ask hadn’t been a small one. “They’re all coming?”

  “You knew they would, except for Lucas, who is the one I’m sure you’re really asking about when you say all. And the answer is yes, Lucas is coming, too. He should be here within the hour.”

  Harper’s relationship with Lucas Cooper was complicated on a good day. On a bad day…well, the awkward in the air between them was so thick you could slice it up, plate it, and serve it with coffee.

  Back when Riddick had been hell-bent on avoiding romantic entanglements of any kind, Harper went out on a date with Lucas. She’d been upfront with him about her feelings for Riddick, but he’d insisted he could change her mind, make her fall for him instead.

  He put up a good fight. He’d been the perfect date, but in the end, her love for Riddick—and Riddick’s love for her—had won out.

  Harper wouldn’t go so far as to say Lucas had been devastated by her rejection, but he certainly hadn’t been happy about it. He made no secret of his dislike (OK, mild hatred, fueled by bitter resentment) of Riddick, either.

  And now, after a year without so much as a how-are-doing…no-hard-feelings-let’s-do-lunch phone call, Lucas Cooper was in Vegas, at her request, to help Riddick.

  What could possibly go wrong?

  “Did he seem…upset?” she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

  Mischa met her gaze squarely. “Well, he wasn’t peeing-his-pants-excited about the prospect of helping Riddick, but I didn’t have to twist his arm too hard. He cares about you, Harper.”

  She cared about him, too. Before the whole Riddick thing, he’d been one of her best friends. She’d rather rip her own heart out than stomp on his, but she was a little desperate at this point. And she really needed his other side to get them out of their current mess.

  The simple fact was that there was no better tracker on earth than a werewolf, and unfortu
nately, Lucas was the only werewolf she knew. The fact that he was also a cop didn’t hurt her plans, either.

  That he would put aside his feelings to help her was humbling. It made her feel like the worst kind of heel for not contacting him over the past year.

  She shook off her guilt. She’d worry about making the past year up to Lucas once everything was settled. Once she didn’t have a missing fiancé and poison pumping through her bloodstream.

  “How are Benny and Leon?”

  Mischa stabbed a finger in her direction. “You owe me for those two. They were on my flight, and they argued the whole time about who would win in a fight: Iron Man or Batman.”

  Harper scoffed. “Well that’s just stupid.”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “It’s totally obvious that Iron Man would win. He’s Tony Stark, for God’s sake. He’s a genius and a billionaire, and all Bruce Wayne really has going for him is a death wish and a kick-ass R&D department.”

  Mischa blinked at her. “Yeah, obviously that’s what made the argument stupid.”

  They paused their conversation long enough to watch Romeo crawl out of the room, coughing and gagging as he went.

  When he was out of sight, Mischa said, “Anyhoo, Benny and Leon are here on the fifth floor. Leon will need your blood to make sure the antidote is ready, but he’s pretty confident it’ll work.”

  Well, that was a huge relief. And one giant worry off her list.

  “Hunter’s on his way, too,” Mischa added quietly.

  Harper silently watched a blush creep up her friend’s neck, not stopping until it reached her cheeks. “He wasn’t part of my plan.”

  Mischa’s chin came up. “No, but I asked him to come. More hands on deck can’t hurt, right?”

  Sure, that was true. And originally, she’d wanted Hunter to be here. But she’d assumed Mischa wouldn’t want to talk to Hunter. So the fact that Mischa had gone to him willingly—and the fact that she was currently blushing like a schoolgirl—told Harper there was a lot more to this story.