I shove him back inside the van until he’s lying backwards against the driver. No ID on either of them. No phones. Professional enough to travel clean.
I do a quick sweep of the interior—nothing but zip ties, duct tape, and a stained blanket in the back. No paperwork. No manifests.
Then I see it, hidden under the driver’s seat—enough explosives to blow the van to bits.
“Fuck.” Taking a deep breath, I dive under to get a closer look. There’s a timer, and it’s set to detonate in just under five minutes.
That’s enough time to get clear. Hurrying, I trudge back to shore, water streaming off my body, and run up the embankment.
Harper’s standing by my truck, arms crossed as if she’s guarding the woman inside. She watches me with that sharp cop stare that makes my chest tighten in ways I don’t want to examine right now. She straightens even more when she sees me, her pretty eyes narrowing like she knows something’s wrong.
Because she probably does. I grin at her as I jog over. “You ready to get out of here, sunshine?”
“Stop calling me that.” She narrows her eyes. “What about the van?”
“Someone already thought of that.”
Her brow furrows, and she opens her mouth, probably to ask me a hundred questions, but we don’t have time for that, so I do the most logical thing.
I kiss her.
Just for a second, and only lips—no tongue—but it stops her cold.
I can’t wait until I can do that again, but if Jake knew I was standing here making out with Officer Hot Stuff—well, actually I don’t think he’d be surprised. “I’ll follow you out.”
Harper frowns, her hands on her hips. “And then?”
“And then you go home and I take her to Blackthorn.” I appeal to her practical nature. “She needs medical attention without the questions. We can give her that.”
Harper glances at the woman in my back seat, then back at me. For a second, I think she’s going to argue. But thankfully she just nods, climbs into her cruiser, and pulls away.
I watch her taillights disappear down the county road before I get into my truck. I glance in the rearview mirror to check on the woman and then quickly follow Harper out.
A minute later, the night lights up behind me, a brief, brilliant flash obscured by the trees. The sound rolls like thunder.
I don’t slow down. For the first time tonight, I let myself think about what just happened. We recovered one of Turner’s victims, but more than that, Harper Garrett—by-the-book, law-and-order, sheriff’s-daughter Harper—trusted me instead of following protocol.
She trustedme.
I grip the steering wheel tighter, watching her brake lights in front of me. For a second I wonder if she’s going to turn into Blackthorn and come home with me—God, I want her in my bed—but she speeds up and heads back to town.
Soon, I promise myself. Very soon.
15
HARPER
Iswear my heart’s still galloping from the explosion a few minutes ago. I grip the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white. I force myself to breathe, to keep my eyes on the road.
But my mind is back at the bridge. The van is gone, the evidence is gone, the bodies are gone, and I just became complicit in destroying a crime scene with a man I barely know, which means I’m not a cop anymore—I’m something else entirely, and there’s no going back.
Groaning, I shake my head. “What the fuck have I gotten into?”
16
LUKE
Blackthorn’s main house is lit up like Christmas when I pull in—every window glowing, the porch lights blazing. Jake and Mason wait on the front steps, and I can see the tension in their postures from fifty yards out.