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I might just do that, kiss her right here in the middle of the diner, drive away all the demons my brother represents with the sweet taste of her, but we’re not alone. Savage steps behind her, a grim look on his face that says he has news. And it’s not good.
Chapter one hundred thirteen
Eric
Harper senses Savage behind her and twists around to find him there. “Savage,” she gasps, and I know why. He’s sporting a black eye the size of Texas. “What happened to your eye?”
Savage’s eyes light with amusement. “Worried about me? Or sending me to my room for being a bad boy?”
“Seriously,” she says. “What happened?”
“Me and my best friend got in a fight over a Snickers bar. That’s the truth and don’t ask for details. They’re too sordid.” He eyes me over her head. “Let’s sit so I can speak freely.”
I nod and ease Harper over to the booth, helping her slide in again. By the time I’ve joined her, Savage is sitting directly across from me. “What happened to your eye, Savage?” Harper presses.
“Same story, Harper,” he says. “I’m sticking with it.”
I can see a man avoiding a dark alley he doesn’t want to travel, and I help him redirect. “Did you find the guy that cornered Harper at the hospital?”
“Yes,” Savage says, and I can feel the punch of his relief that we’re moving on, mixed with the grimness of his answer, even before he finishes with, “in a hotel bed, with his throat cut.”
Harper sucks in air. “Oh God.Oh God.” She casts a panicked look at me. “Eric.”
I pull her hand to my lap and cover it with my own. “Easy, baby. It’s going to be okay.”
That earns me instant rejection. “It’s not okay,” she insists, tugging her hand free as if she cannot bear to be contained in any way. “Nothing about any of this is okay.”
“We are,” I say. “We are. And we’re what matters when this is all over and done.”
Savage rolls on in with backup adding, “And you’re going to stay okay. Better than okay. You have Eric and you have me, as well as my badass team.”
“Isaac got to us,” she points out, pinning him in a sharp corner.
He flicks a look at me. “I sent you a text giving you the heads up about Isaac.”
I set my phone in front of Harper, showing her the proof that Savage did indeed warn us about Isaac. I just missed the message.
This does not compel her comfort or security, “We need this over, Eric,” she whispers. “Weneedit over.”
“One thing I’ve learned in my life, in the SEALs more than anywhere, is that pushing harder doesn’t lead to an end. When you push too hard, too fast, just to do something, you end up doing the wrong something.” I lift my chin at Savage. “What about the woman who was with the man at the hospital?”
“We caught her on camera leaving the hotel. We’ve been working to ID her along with law enforcement, and so far, it’s a no go on a name.”
“Wait,” Harper says, her hands flattening on the table. “Are you suggesting that the woman who was with him killed him?”
“That’s what we believe,” Savage confirms. “That’s our working hypothesis.”
“Go further with that,” I urge, wanting to know where the Walker team is taking this. “Play along. Assume out loud. Tell me where your head is right now.”
Savage’s eyes light and he leans forward. “Assuming you’re right, and the message our newly dead, fake FBI consultant, gave Harper was from Gigi, the man and the woman worked for Gigi.”
“But you think the woman killed the man,” Harper says, jumping in. “How does that make sense?”
Savage taps the table and points at her. “Exactly. Which means that Isaac found out about them, but the man couldn’t be bought.”
“So they ended him,” Harper supplies, following his lead.
“Or,” I suggest. “He knew too much, maybe even tried to use it against Gigi, and she had him dealt with.”
