by N. J. Young
“You!” The man looked around him to where Harper was poking her head out. “Are you the one who took my wife and son away?”
“Are you the one that was using your wife and four-year-old for punching bags?” Harper’s voice sounded angry and strained. Luke could hear her barely controlled rage, and he understood the reason for it. He couldn’t stomach a man who could lay his hands on a woman or child.
“You fucking cunt!” The man grew more livid. “It’s none of your business. This is a family matter. Now you tell me where my family is, and you tell me now!”
Harper walked out from behind Luke to face the man head on. “I don’t know where your wife and son are, but even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you. You should be in prison. You don’t deserve to have a family if you’re going to treat them like that.” She raised a hand to jab her finger in the man’s direction. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to your son? He was scared to death when he was in here. He was black and blue.” Her voice rose, and her eyes flashed. “Your son will remember for the rest of his life how you beat him. Getting him away from you this young will hopefully give him a shot of growing up without being completely traumatized, but he will have to remember the rest of his life what kind of father he had.”
“You bitch! I will fucking kill you!” The man lunged for Harper. He was surprisingly fast in his drunken state, but Luke was faster. Before the man could reach her, Luke caught him by the neck with one large hand and slammed him against the wall. He heard several gasps and a woman’s yelp from behind him.
The man he held pinned to the wall squirmed under his grip. “Get the fuck off me.” He gasped, his hands unsuccessfully pushing at the one Luke had clenched around his throat. “None of yer business.”
“Oh, I disagree.” Luke kept his voice low and hard. “When you storm into this hospital, cause a scene, and start threatening a doctor, I think it’s very much my business. Now you listen to me. I can’t force you to get the help you so obviously need, but I can tell you this. If you ever come in here again, it better be because you’re on your deathbed. You don’t have any other business here. And if you ever—and this is the important part, so pay attention—ever come within a hundred feet of the doctor here, I will separate your head from your body. And there won’t be a surgeon in the world talented enough to put you back together again. You got that?”
The man didn’t respond, but the rage in his eyes turned to unease as they darted around Luke’s face.
Luke didn’t let the man go, but he did loosen his grip a little. “Good. I’m glad we understand each other.” He didn’t look away from the man but spoke to the nurse standing to his right, who had been watching the entire scene unfold, wide-eyed. “Brandie, have you called the police?”
“I’m here, Luke.” Michael Grayson’s voice came from behind him, and Luke turned to see the man striding down the hall toward them, followed by two officers. “But it looks like you have the situation under control. Thanks for stopping Mr. Riggs here before he could do too much damage.”
When Gray stood next to him, Luke finally released the man’s neck, and he dramatically gasped for breath as the two officers moved in to cuff him. As Gray read the man his rights, Luke turned to search for Harper. She stood next to the door of the lounge, and her face was as white as a sheet. Shit.
“Gray, don’t leave without finding me first, okay?”
The detective gave him a brief nod, and then Luke rushed to Harper. He opened the door to the lounge, dragging her inside. She looked like she was practically in shock. “Pretty?” He cupped her face, bringing her wide eyes up to meet his. “Pretty? Look at me. Are you okay?”
She blinked up at him a few times before her eyes seemed to clear, but then she nodded slowly. “I’m okay,” she finally said.
But she wasn’t. “Sit down. I’ll get you some water.”
“No, Luke—”
“Sit!” She certainly wasn’t good at following orders. But rather than arguing, she sank down onto the orange sofa that was shoved up against the wall. Luke opened the mini fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewing the top and pressing it into her hand before he sat down next to her.
“You want to tell me what that was all about? Has that guy threatened you before?” Maybe that was the asshole that had been sending her the letters all along.
She took a small sip of water and shook her head. “I treated his son last week. The poor little boy was covered in bruises. I brought in a social worker to talk to the mother, and she helped her make some decisions. I’m not sure how this guy would even know who I was.”
Last week. And the letters had started way before that. So most likely not their guy.
The cap from Harper’s water bottle bounced to the ground when she tried unsuccessfully to screw it back on. She was obviously shaken up, and Luke had a feeling it was because of more than the situation with Riggs. He took the bottle out of her hand and set it on the table.
“Pretty, look at me.” When her blue eyes looked up at him questioningly, his heart clenched. “You’re holding something back. Please tell me. I want to help you.”
Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Why? You don’t even know me.”
He swallowed. This was the part where he really hoped he didn’t sound like a psycho stalker. “But I do.” He gave a half-shrug and slid his big hands down her arms. “I feel like I do, anyway. I can’t explain it. But I know I like you.” Like? Christ, he sounded like a teenage boy. “I care about you, Harper. I know that. I know I don’t want to see you upset. But you have to trust me. You have to let me in.”
Her beautiful eyes searched his face as her teeth nibbled the hell out of that full bottom lip. After a couple of moments, her eyes cleared, as if she’d come to some sort of decision.
“When it comes to men like that … that Riggs character … I get a little uneasy.” She looked down. “I know what it feels like. What his son must be feeling. I’ve been there.” Her voice sounded so small. But Luke didn’t want her looking away from him. He cupped his large hand around the back of her neck and rubbed in gentle circles until she lifted her eyes back up to meet his.
“Who hurt you?” He would kill the bastard.
Tears pooled in her eyes, but she quickly reached up and swiped them away before they could fall. “My father. It was a long time ago. You’d think I would be over it by now. I can go for a long time without really thinking about that part of my life at all. Then something like this happens, and…” She blew out a slow breath. “It all comes crashing back.”
A range of emotions swarmed through Luke. He couldn’t imagine growing up like that. His father had been his hero. What could it have possibly been like for Harper? “What did he do to you?” he asked quietly.
Her hands trembled, and she clasped them tightly together in her lap. “It wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. The daily berating, the hitting.” She shook her head, looking away, toward the windows. “My mom would try to stop him, but then he would just take it out on her.”
Her eyes clouded over as if she were lost in a memory. “There was one time my mom was at work. I was probably eight. My dad was sitting there, watching TV, drinking. I was so scared of him when he was drinking. He asked me to pour him another glass of bourbon. When I was bringing it to him, I tripped, and the glass fell out of my hand and shattered.” A tear slipped out and then another from Harper’s sad blue eyes, and Luke reached up to brush them away with the pads of his thumbs. His heart ached, but he said nothing as she continued. “He called me a good-for-nothing little whore. That was always his word for me—whore. I was eight years old. I didn’t even know what it meant. He yanked me off the floor by my hair and slammed my head as hard as he could into the wall, so hard that it broke my jaw.”
Luke cursed. “Jesus Christ, Harper.”
“I know.” She looked up at the ceiling, anywhere but at Luke. “The even worse part is that he refused to let my mom take me to the hospital. I had to wait t
wo days until my dad left the house before my mom could get me to a hospital.”
Red flashed in front of Luke’s eyes, and he had to force himself to take deep breaths. All he wanted to do at the moment was tear out of here, find Harper’s father, and make him feel the pain that he’d caused his daughter. How could any human being do that to their child?
“Where is your father now?”
“He drank himself to death by the time I was twelve.” She let out a hollow laugh. “Is it bad that I wanted to celebrate the day of his funeral? The day he died was the happiest of my life, because I finally felt free.”
“Of course you felt that way, Pretty. That’s not bad. How else should you have felt?” And it was a good thing the man was dead, or Luke would have made him pay.
She shrugged off the memories. “Anyway, it just hits so close to home. Abusive father. A mother who tries to get help, but she’s scared to death, and no one will help her.”
“But you did help Mrs. Riggs. You helped her get away from her abusive husband. Her and her son. They’re going to be safe because of you, Harper. You did that.”
She gave him a watery smile. “Yeah, I did.”
But no one had done that for her. No one had helped her. “I’m so sorry, Harper.” He gathered her close, and she cuddled into his chest. She fit him perfectly, as if they had been made to fit together in just that way.
When she didn’t say anything, he pulled back to look at her. “You’re amazing, you know that, Pretty?”
Surprise filled her face. “Amazing? I doubt that.”
“I mean it. You’re strong. Not just what you’ve accomplished, but in the way you stand up for yourself and for others. When people go through an abusive childhood, sometimes, they close up, sort of a self-preservation thing. They can lose themselves. But you didn’t. That takes a helluva lot of strength.”
She gave him a quizzical expression. “You seem to know what you’re talking about. Did you…”
He quickly shook his head. “Not me. Someone close to me.” An image of Zach Quigley floated through his mind. A fifteen-year-old Q whose face was so mangled that Luke had been sure no one would be able to stitch his friend back up. He quickly shook his head to clear the memory. That was not his story to tell.
“Hey, everything okay in here?” Gray stepped into the lounge and closed the door behind him. Michael Grayson, another of Luke’s childhood friends. He sometimes thought his friend looked a bit like a Viking, with his blond hair and muscular body. His sister Becca used to refer to Gray as Thor when she’d been a little girl. Gray’s body seemed even bulkier these days, and Luke knew that he’d been spending extra time at the gym to burn off steam since his divorce.
“Gray, this is Harper Love. There’s something she needs to talk to you about.”
They both waited for her to speak, and she paused long enough that Luke wondered if she would say anything at all. Then she began to talk.
Gray sat in a chair next to the couch and pulled out a notebook. He sat quietly as she spoke, making notes, and asking the occasional question. Harper detailed the messages on all of the letters she’d received, and how they’d become more aggressive. When she began to recite what the letters had said, Luke tasted blood and realized he was biting the inside of his jaw in anger. He was determined not to interrupt, but this was hard to listen to.
He took some comfort in the fact that Harper could have asked him to leave the room, but she didn’t. Instead, she clenched his hand tightly as if she were summoning his strength. He didn’t want to break whatever bond was starting to form between them, so he kept his mouth shut.
But someone wanted to hurt her. That much was very clear. After she related the last note she’d received this morning, Gray put his notebook down. “Has there been anyone who’s given you any indication they might be pursuing you? Someone you turned down for a date, maybe?”
She frowned. “Well, no, surely that couldn’t be—”
“Dr. Love,” Gray interrupted. “Anything you could tell me, no matter how small you think it is, could help.”
Harper shot a glance at Luke and then Gray. “One person has asked me out a few times, but I said no because I’ve made it a rule not to date anyone I work with.”
“Who?” both he and Gray asked in unison.
She looked at Gray. “Dr. Forrester. Max Forrester.”
Forrester, Forrester, why did that name sound familiar? “Wait a second.” Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the asshole who wanted to know how many people I’ve had sex with when I came in with a dislocated shoulder?”
Harper smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “That would be him, but he doesn’t have the best bedside manner.”
“I’ll say,” he grumbled. He remembered what a jerk-off that guy was. And even though he’d been in a freakish amount of pain, he’d noticed how the guy had ogled Harper’s breasts on the way out of the room. “Where is he? Is he working?” He was ready to bolt for the door, ready to kick Forrester’s ass, but Harper’s hand on his arm stopped him.
“Luke, don’t. We don’t know it was him.”
“She’s right.” Gray shoved his notebook back in his shirt pocket. “We don’t have any evidence. We’ll definitely question the guy. And Dr. Love, if there is anyone, and I mean anyone else you can think of who has even looked at you cross-eyed, let me know. Do you understand?”
Harper blinked in surprise, and seemed nearly awe-struck that Gray was taking her seriously. “Of course, Detective. I just haven’t been in town that long, so there aren’t a lot of people I even know very well.”
Gray stood up. “Doesn’t matter to assholes like this. Uh, pardon me, ma’am. I mean perpetrators like this don’t have to know you. They see you, create some fantasy in their own minds, starring you, and they just run with it. It’s nothing you’ve done or said. In all likelihood, it has nothing to do with you at all. But that doesn’t make it any less serious.”
Harper just nodded, running her fingertips up and down the lapel of her lab coat, a gesture she made when she seemed nervous. “So, what do I do if I get another one?”
The muscle in Gray’s jaw tightened. “If that happens, don’t touch it. Don’t open it. You contact me immediately. I want it fingerprinted. Do you understand? We’re going to figure this out, Harper.”
“The sooner, the better.” Luke stood to slap Gray on the back. “Before this escalates anymore.” He exchanged a look with Gray, and his friend nodded. They were on the same wavelength. They both knew the fact that this was escalating so quickly was not a good sign. They needed to find this guy soon before things got really out of control.
Gray opened the door to walk out, but stopped and turned back. “I almost forgot. Saturday. The barbecue’s at six, right?”
Barbecue? “Oh shit.” Luke scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I completely forgot about that.”
Gray gave a low whistle. “Well then, I’m glad I mentioned it. I wouldn’t want to see your mama’s face if you forgot to show up at her party.” He gave Luke a wink and a little salute. “See you then, buddy?”
Luke was still staring at the door when Harper spoke up from behind him. “What party?”
Realization dawned on him. Grayson knew exactly when the party was. Manipulative bastard. There was only one reason why he would have mentioned it out of the blue. And he had a feeling it was so Luke would feel the need to extend an invitation to the lovely doctor.
He turned as Harper stood up, straightening her coat, working hard to put her professional appearance back into place. That lab coat and oversized button-down shirt she wore did nothing to hide her gorgeous curves. And all he could think about was how much he wanted to strip those clothes right off her. Yes, he wanted her. But he didn’t know if he wanted to share her with his family quite yet. Didn’t know if he was quite ready for his brothers’ crude remarks, his mom dropping everything to plan a wedding to this woman he’d just met, and Becca’s jealousy that another woman might take up th
e prime spot in his life. Yeah, a Price family barbecue wasn’t a good idea. Not at all.
Yet, he couldn’t help himself. “My mom has a barbecue every Memorial Day weekend. Ethan’s catering this year, so it’s going to be bigger than usual. I think she’s inviting half the town.” He took a step toward her and reached up to twist a blonde curl around his finger. “Would you go with me, Pretty? Would you be my date?”
Her eyes flared at the word date. Or maybe she was just reacting to the fact that he was so close to her. “Um, Luke, I don’t know. I mean I have to work late shifts all week. I know I’ll be tired. Maybe that’s not the best time.” And she was back to looking scared.
He took a step closer, and her breathing quickened. Good God, she was so responsive. What would she be like when he had her exactly where he wanted her?
Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and those blue eyes darkened to the color of a stormy sea. For a moment, he knew they were thinking exactly the same thing. “Pretty, what are you doing to me?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer as he lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers in a feathery kiss.
“Luke,” she whispered. Her hands came up, and for a moment he thought she might push him away, but instead her hands fisted against his shirt. She tilted her head up slightly, and Luke seized the invitation. This time, his kiss wasn’t light. His mouth claimed hers hungrily as one arm wrapped around her waist, anchoring her to him. Her mouth opened in a little gasp, and he took advantage of the opportunity, his tongue surging forward to tangle with hers. He pressed her lower half to his so she was certain to feel his desire for her. His erection strained as it rubbed up against the heat of her body.
When she felt it, she stiffened for the briefest of moments, then softened against him, her arms going up to wind around his neck, her moan vibrating through him. He tangled his fingers in her hair and angled her head where he wanted her, his lips claiming hers over and over in a fierce dance.