Page 45 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
The thing that rattled her most wasn’t the blast. It was the precision. The timing. Whoever had planted that explosiveknewthey’d come back that way. Knew exactly how long they’d be gone.
It was deliberate. Personal. And they’d missed dying by mere seconds.
Ryker ended the call and slid his phone into his jacket pocket. He didn’t speak right away, just rubbed the back of his neck like the weight of everything was settling there.
Then he looked at her. “They got an ID on the body,” he said. “Name’s Marcus Harlan. Homeless vet. Used to live in a shelter outside San Antonio.”
Emma blinked, her fingers tightening around the mug.
“The ME says it was a single gunshot wound to the head,” Ryker added. “Quick. Precise.”
Her stomach turned, the tea suddenly tasting bitter in her mouth. Marcus Harlan. A man who’d survived war, survived the streets… only to be executed and dressed up like Ryker. Used like a pawn in this killer’s twisted game.
“He wasn’t even a target,” she muttered. “He was bait. A way to lure us there. To make sure we saw that phone, those messages. And then…” Her eyes met Ryker’s. “Then the man in the woods. The distraction. Just long enough for someone to double back and rig the cruiser.”
Ryker nodded once. “They had it all planned out. Right down to the minute.”
Emma set the mug aside, unable to stomach another sip. Marcus Harlan hadn’t been a part of this. He’d just beenavailable.Disposable, in the eyes of whoever was orchestrating this.
It sickened her.
Ryker crossed the room in two strides and set a hand on her arm, the other sliding to the small of her back as he gently pulled her to her feet. Before Emma could say a word, he wrapped his arms around her. And he kissed her.
Not rushed. Not uncertain. Just steady and sure, like he knew exactly what she needed even before she did.
When he pulled back, his voice was low, a flicker of heat beneath the humor. “You didn’t apologize, but I figured a kiss was called for.”
Emma’s breath caught, and for the first time in what felt like hours, something other than dread surged through her. She managed a smile. “You figured right.”
She kissed him then, no hesitation.
It started soft, but quickly deepened, the weight of everything they’d been through pouring into it. His hand cupped the back of her neck, hers fisted in his shirt. The warmth of him, the scent of smoke still clinging faintly to his jacket, the scrape of stubble against her skin, it all grounded her, stripped away the lingering edge of fear.
But it also sparked something else.
The kiss turned hotter, breathier, neither of them pulling back. Her body pressed to his, tension unraveling into heat so sharp it made her knees weak. For a few dizzy seconds, she forgot they were still in the cold case room, still on the clock, still in the middle of a manhunt.
When they finally parted, her lips tingled, her pulse pounded.
Ryker looked at her, eyes dark, voice just above a whisper. “Definitely too hot for a cold case room.”
Emma gave a shaky laugh. “Then we’d better get back to work.”
But as she stepped away, the truth hit hard and fast. That kiss hadn’t just taken the edge off, it had scorched right through her.
Too hot, period.
It had steadied her nerves, sure, but in the next breath, it had shaken her in a whole new way. She was falling for Ryker. Fast.Hard. And considering everything that was happening, that was areallybad thing.
Feelings could muddy judgment. Complicate instincts. And her mind was already fraying at the edges from the pressure, the fear, the constant circling threat.
She was a good cop. She knew how to run an investigation, how to stay sharp under fire.
But this case wasn’t just about bodies and clues.
It was about killing her. And killinghim.
And the deeper her heart got tangled up in Ryker Caldwell… The harder that truth was going to hit.
