Page 55 of Outlaw Ridge: Ryker
So much for breakfast and round two.
“All right,” he muttered, turning for the door. “Kissing portion of the morning’s officially over.”
Work time.
As Emma moved around the bedroom, the quiet sounds of drawers opening and zippers tugging echoed faintly. He didn’t rush, this early calm was a rarity. He meant to savor it, even if it only lasted another five minutes.
He went to the kitchen, turning off the burner of the makeshift breakfast and instead poured two cups of coffee and secured the lids on the to-go tumblers. After he had those ready and waiting, he took out his phone and fired off a quick text to the diner.
Need two breakfast sandwiches delivered to the station. Extra bacon and cheese. Thanks.
That done, he opened a browser on his phone and pulled up a quick background check on Celeste Harper. No criminal record. Early forties. Listed address about thirty miles west, near a tiny ranch town where she raised, trained and boarded horses. Nothing suspicious jumped out, but that didn’t mean much. People with clean records still got caught up in the worst things.
Ryker was still skimming a land ownership report when Emma stepped into the kitchen.
His thoughts scattered instantly.
She was in her usual work clothes, jeans, a dark T-shirt, department-issued jacket, badge clipped to her belt, but somehow, she looked like she could take down the world and make it beg for mercy while doing it.
Ryker leaned back against the counter and let his eyes sweep over her.
“Alright. New rule,” he said, lifting his coffee. “An apology doesn’t have to trigger a kiss anymore. Butyoulooking like that? That does.”
She arched a brow. “It’s my work clothes.”
“Exactly. The badge, the boots, the whole kick-ass attitude, it works for me.”
That earned him a small grin. Not the teasing kind. The real kind.
They shared a breath of stillness between them, something warm that pulsed beneath the weight of everything else.
Then Emma reached for her coat. “Let’s go. You can give me the intel on Celeste Harper during the drive.”
Ryker grabbed his own coat and the coffees. As they headed for the garage, he couldn’t help but think, whatever Celeste had to tell them, it better be good.
Because they were running out of time, and distractions weren’t a luxury they could afford.
With Ryker behind the wheel, he pulled out of the garage and immediately glanced around to make sure they weren’t about to be ambushed. But no one was in sight. That possibly had to do with the ass-freezing temps. And the snow.
Flurries drifted across the windshield as Ryker turned onto Main, the wipers swiping a light rhythm against the glass. The town was quiet in that early-morning way, no real traffic, just the occasional pickup rolling slowly through intersections and a scattering of bundled pedestrians moving like shadows through the cold.
Emma sat beside him, her coffee in hand, her eyes trained on the road but clearly working over thoughts in her head. He didn’t interrupt. They both knew silence could be just as grounding as strategy.
The drive to the station was short, just a couple of minutes, but the weight between them made every block feel longer. A body double in Ryker’s uniform. A grenade tossed at their feet. Ethan’s face, or what looked like it. It was a lot to come to terms with.
The flurries thickened slightly as they pulled into the lot. Ryker cut the engine, stepped out, and the wind cut through his coat as he followed Emma through the side entrance reserved for officers.
Inside, the heat hit hard and the noise was immediate, phones ringing, voices low and clipped, the day already moving. The sheriff met them just inside the bullpen, coffee in hand and a sigh waiting on her lips.
“I was hoping you two might actually get a little downtime,” she said.
Ryker gave a tired half-smile. “Downtime sounds good. Let’s pencil it in for after we bring Ethan in.”
Hallie snorted. “Make sure you send me a calendar invite.”
She gestured toward the back hallway. “Your visitor’s in the cold case office. She seemed too spooked to put her in one of the interview rooms, so I figured better to keep it informal.”
Emma frowned. “Celeste Harper?”
