Page 34 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
Emma gave him a side glance, resigned. “I was.”
He turned to face her fully, letting the weight of his stare settle between them. “You remember what I said I’d do the next time you did that?”
A flicker of something passed through her eyes, heat, hesitation, defiance. “Yeah,” she murmured.
Ryker didn’t move. Didn’t lean in to initiate a kiss.
But Emma did.
She closed the distance without warning, hands catching lightly at the sides of his jacket as she rose onto her toes and kissed him. Not tentative. Not testing.
Hot.
Fast.
Hungry.
Her mouth met his with a jolt of heat that stole his breath and short-circuited every plan he’d had for taking it slow. She tasted like coffee and sugar and pure fire, and his hands instinctively caught her waist, holding her there, grounding them both.
It lasted longer than it should’ve. But not nearly long enough.
When she pulled back, her eyes were darker, her breath shallow. Ryker blinked, stunned, heart hammering in a way he hadn’t felt since combat.
“Well,” he said, voice rough. “Guess that counts asmyapology, too.”
Ryker’s phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting through the haze Emma’s kiss had left in his head. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen. A text from Jesse.
Dr. Colvin’s here. Interview Room Three.
Ryker straightened, forcing his pulse to settle. That kiss had flipped a switch inside him, hell, maybe tripped a circuit, but now wasn’t the time to let it spiral.
Emma was already moving, all business again, and he followed her out of the cold case room, the distance between them physically reset, even if the air still buzzed with leftover heat. They walked down the hall to Interview Room Three, and Ryker opened the door.
Dr. Maris Colvin sat alone at the table, hands folded neatly in front of her, posture impeccable. She was dressed in a charcoal-gray blazer over a pale blue blouse, hair pulled back into a smooth, professional twist. She looked calm. Controlled. Maybe too controlled.
The doctor matched the images from the wedding reception exactly, same sharp cheekbones, same elegant bearing. In those photos, she’d looked almost reverent when her eyes had been on Ethan, like she was watching something she worshipped. That same poise was here now, but there was no warmth in her face, no flicker of the woman who’d glared at Ethan like she wanted him dead.
She didn’t rise when they entered, just looked up with the cool politeness of someone who had nothing to prove. No lawyer. No fiery outbursts like Charlotte.
Just still water.
And Ryker had seen enough to know, still water could run deep. And dangerous.
Ryker kept his expression neutral as he stepped inside the room and gently closed the door behind Emma. “Dr. Colvin,” he said, his tone professional but not overly stiff. “I’m Deputy Ryker Caldwell, this is Deputy Emma Bonetti. We appreciate you coming in voluntarily.”
She gave a small nod, no smile. Her face was unreadable, perfectly composed.
Ryker crossed to the recorder on the wall, clicked it on, and spoke clearly for the record. “Interview with Dr. Maris Colvin, conducted by Deputies Caldwell and Bonetti. Time is 9:03 a.m. at the Outlaw Ridge Police Department. Interview Room Three. Subject is not under arrest and is participating voluntarily.”
He returned to the table and sat across from her. “Standard procedure,” he said. “I’ll be reading you your rights.”
Dr. Colvin gave no indication she objected, or cared. Her expression didn’t so much as twitch. No protest, no confusion, no curiosity.
He read through the Miranda warning in his steady, clipped voice, watching her for any sign of reaction. There wasn’t one. Nothing in her face shifted. But Ryker couldn’t help but wonder if the tightness in her hands, or the way she kept her eyes pinned straight ahead, was the only indication of how much she hated being read her rights.
For a moment, silence lingered. Then she spoke, her voice calm and measured. “I’m not sure how I can help you. I haven’t heard from Ethan in four years.”
Emma’s voice broke the stillness, calm but direct.
