Semi-Human (Harper Hall Investigations Book 2) (19 page)

Harper cleared her throat. “Fine. Good. Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

They said their goodbyes and Mischa ended the call just as the elevator doors opened and Hunter stepped out.

He shifted his gaze away from hers and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops. “So, you didn’t tell me you were leaving tomorrow.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t trying to keep it from you. I just…didn’t think about it until Harper called.”

He nodded, still not looking at her. “Will I see you when you get back?”

Understanding dawned on her. He was assuming that their time in the elevator had been a one-shot deal that she’d spend days flogging herself about. And maybe the old Mischa would have. But the new Mischa?

She took a step toward him. “Hunter?”

His brows raised, but he still didn’t look at her.

“I don’t want what happened in the elevator to stay in the elevator,” she said quietly.

His head shot up and he met her gaze, cocking his head to one side. “Really?”

“Really.”

Her breath was instantly crushed out of her lungs as he crossed the distance between them and yanked her into a tight hug.

“As you wish,” he whispered into her hair.

And all the voices inside her finally agreed that she’d made the right choice, maybe for the first and last time in her life.

By the time Mischa arrived the next day, Harper was in serious danger of losing her mind. Riddick hadn’t come home the night before, and not knowing where he was or what kind of I’m-a-dangerous-killer-who-doesn’t-deserve-to-be-with-you foolishness was going through his head was torturing her.

She was pacing the floor when she heard someone dragging a rolling bag down the hall outside her room. When she opened the door, Mischa was in the doorway with her hand poised in mid-air.

“Your clairvoyance works without physical contact now?” her friend asked. “Impressive.”

“No, you just sound like a drunk elephant stomping down my hallway.”

Harper moved out of the way so that Mischa could drag her bag into the room. When she was inside, Harper couldn’t stand it any longer and grabbed her.

Mischa groaned, but hugged her back with equal enthusiasm. “Are you okay?” she asked.

Harper let out a shuddering sigh, not letting Mischa go. “Misch, my life is fifty shades of what-the-fuckery right now.”

Mischa tightened her hold. “Oh, baby, that’s nothing new for you. And what’s fifty shades of what-the-fuckery for normal people is for you just…Tuesday. So, you need to stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re going to be just fine.”

And
that’s
why she loved this woman. No pulling punches, no platitudes. Just solid, unwavering support. Not totally down with
empathy
, but supportive nonetheless. “You’re right. I
am
okay. But Riddick didn’t come home last night.”

Mischa leaned back and shrugged. “He probably just needed some time to think. His father, a sister, his mom…it was a lot to take in.”

Harper sighed and took a step back. “I’m sure you’re right.”

Harper didn’t sound convincing saying it, and Mischa certainly didn’t look convinced.

What a pair they made.

Romeo wandered out of the bedroom and yawned, hair sticking up in all possible directions.
Shit
, Harper thought,
just because I didn’t sleep in the bed didn’t mean it was OK for him to sleep in it. Note to self: make sure maid service changes sheets today
. He blinked blearily at Harper. “Hey, Harpy, we got any coffee?”

When she didn’t answer, he squinted in Mischa’s direction as he absently scratched his bare chest. “Is that you, Little Hitler?”

Harper winced. The nerds Mischa worked with at TEV Technologies had coined the nickname because of her pocket-sized frame and Napoleon-esque management style. And as much as Harper hated being called Harpy, that was still only a
fraction
of how much Mischa hated being called Little Hitler.

But Mischa didn’t chew him out like Harper expected. Instead, she smiled a serene smile and nodded. “Yep. It’s me, Romeo.”

She moved toward him, arms wide open as if she intended to give him a great big welcome hug. That’s when Harper knew something was up.

Mischa only ever hugged…well,
her
as far as she knew.

Sure enough, when Romeo stepped toward her, Mischa moved in fast and brought her knee up hard into Romeo’s groin.

With a squeak reminiscent of a frightened toddler—a frightened,
female
toddler—Romeo dropped to the ground like a wet towel.

“Nice to see you again, Romeo,” Mischa said calmly as she stepped over his prone body and moved to the kitchenette to grab a bottle of water.

Yeah, if she was gay, she’d totally marry this woman, because she fucking
loved
her.

Harper stepped
around
Romeo instead of
over
him and followed Mischa into the kitchenette. She hoisted herself up on the counter. “So, were you able to gather everyone?”

Mischa took a sip of water and gave her a disdainful stare over the top of her glasses. “Did you ever doubt me?”

She had, at least a little bit. Her ask hadn’t been a small one. “They’re all coming?”

“You knew they would, except for Lucas, who is the one I’m sure you’re really asking about when you say
all
. And the answer is yes, Lucas is coming, too. He should be here within the hour.”

Harper’s relationship with Lucas Cooper was complicated on a good day. On a bad day…well, the awkward in the air between them was so thick you could slice it up, plate it, and serve it with coffee.

Back when Riddick had been hell-bent on avoiding romantic entanglements of any kind, Harper went out on a date with Lucas. She’d been upfront with him about her feelings for Riddick, but he’d insisted he could change her mind, make her fall for him instead.

He put up a good fight. He’d been the perfect date, but in the end, her love for Riddick—and Riddick’s love for her—had won out.

Harper wouldn’t go so far as to say Lucas had been devastated by her rejection, but he certainly hadn’t been happy about it. He made no secret of his dislike (OK, mild hatred, fueled by bitter resentment) of Riddick, either.

And now, after a year without so much as a how-are-doing…no-hard-feelings-let’s-do-lunch phone call, Lucas Cooper was in Vegas, at her request, to help Riddick.

What could possibly go wrong?

“Did he seem…upset?” she asked, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

Mischa met her gaze squarely. “Well, he wasn’t peeing-his-pants-excited about the prospect of helping Riddick, but I didn’t have to twist his arm too hard. He cares about you, Harper.”

She cared about him, too. Before the whole Riddick thing, he’d been one of her best friends. She’d rather rip her own heart out than stomp on his, but she was a little desperate at this point. And she really needed his
other
side to get them out of their current mess.

The simple fact was that there was no better tracker on earth than a werewolf, and unfortunately, Lucas was the only werewolf she knew. The fact that he was also a cop didn’t hurt her plans, either.

That he would put aside his feelings to help her was humbling. It made her feel like the worst kind of heel for not contacting him over the past year.

She shook off her guilt. She’d worry about making the past year up to Lucas once everything was settled. Once she didn’t have a missing fiancé and poison pumping through her bloodstream.

“How are Benny and Leon?”

Mischa stabbed a finger in her direction. “You owe me for those two. They were on my flight, and they argued the whole time about who would win in a fight: Iron Man or Batman.”

Harper scoffed. “Well that’s just stupid.”

“That’s what I said.”

“It’s totally obvious that Iron Man would win. He’s Tony Stark, for God’s sake. He’s a genius
and
a billionaire, and all Bruce Wayne really has going for him is a death wish and a kick-ass R&D department.”

Mischa blinked at her. “Yeah, obviously
that’s
what made the argument stupid.”

They paused their conversation long enough to watch Romeo crawl out of the room, coughing and gagging as he went.

When he was out of sight, Mischa said, “Anyhoo, Benny and Leon are here on the fifth floor. Leon will need your blood to make sure the antidote is ready, but he’s pretty confident it’ll work.”

Well, that was a huge relief. And one giant worry off her list.

“Hunter’s on his way, too,” Mischa added quietly.

Harper silently watched a blush creep up her friend’s neck, not stopping until it reached her cheeks. “He wasn’t part of my plan.”

Mischa’s chin came up. “No, but I asked him to come. More hands on deck can’t hurt, right?”

Sure, that was true. And originally, she’d wanted Hunter to be here. But she’d assumed Mischa wouldn’t want to talk to Hunter. So the fact that Mischa had gone to him willingly—and the fact that she was currently blushing like a schoolgirl—told Harper there was a lot more to this story.

“So,” Harper began, drawing the word out for several extra syllables, “are you going to tell me willingly, or do I have to get the information out of you another way?”

Mischa blinked innocently. “Tell you what?”

Harper pushed up her sleeves. “Fine. We do this the hard way.”

Mischa squealed and made a run for it when Harper tried to grab her, but Harper’s superior height and reach won out. She managed to snag Mischa’s wrist as she attempted to bob and weave her way out of the kitchenette.

The vision that assailed her was…

Okay, now she knew why Mischa was blushing.

“Wow,” Harper finally said, letting go of Mischa’s wrist. “That was, um,
wow
.”

Mischa covered her flaming-red face with her hands. “Don’t say anything else! This is all brand new and I don’t want to hear any of your opinions or teasing right now, OK? Let it go.”

Letting it go would be the merciful thing to do. Especially after all Mischa had done to help her. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been pressuring the poor woman for months to do
exactly
what she’d just done with Hunter. She was truly happy for her friend.

But then again…

“Fine,” she said in the most innocent tone she could muster. “I won’t say a word.”

And she didn’t.

Instead, she started singing the first few lines of
Love in an Elevator
.

Mischa’s jaw dropped for a split second. Then, just as Harper got to “
bettin’ on the dice I’m tossin
’”, her chin came up and she turned on her heel, marching out the door, both middle fingers held high.

Harper would’ve felt bad about the whole thing if she hadn’t seen the smile threatening to break across Mischa’s face before she left.

And besides,
merciful
just wasn’t really her style.

“Well, I knew you’d be a shit boyfriend, but I really never thought you were a fucking dumbass. Now I know I overestimated your intelligence.”

Riddick didn’t bother to look up from the bottle of tequila he’d been nursing for the past twenty minutes as one of his worst nightmares sat down on the stool next to him. “Go away.”

“Nice to see you, too.” He signaled the bartender. “Beer, please, darlin’.”

The bartender was about sixty-five, probably weighed three-twenty, and was missing more than a few teeth. And she twittered like a schoolgirl because Lucas Cooper called her “darlin’.”

Disgusting.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Cooper?”

Cooper raked his fingers through his Ken-doll-blond hair. “Harper wanted me to come.”

Fucking great. Jealousy. Hadn’t felt
that
particular piece- of-shit emotion since the last time he’d talked to Cooper about Harper. It wasn’t exactly fun then, and it certainly wasn’t fun now.

“If Harper wanted you to come, why are you wasting your time with me?”

Cooper took his beer from the bartender and thanked her, earning yet another toothless grin before she went back to refilling salt shakers. “I talked to Mischa. She said Harper was worried about you, since you didn’t go back to the hotel last night.”

“And you plan to drag me back?”

“Fuck no. Why would I do that? Right now you’re proving me right. I do
ever so much
enjoy being right.”

He knew what the bastard meant. Cooper had told him a year ago that he wasn’t good enough for Harper. That he’d eventually hurt her and abandon her. “I haven’t left her,” he practically growled. “I wouldn’t do that. I just needed time to think.”

“Well, you’re sitting here in a shithole bar getting drunk at two in the afternoon while a beautiful woman who loves you—completely inexplicably, in my opinion—worries, by herself, in a hotel across town. Doesn’t really seem like thinking is your strong suit, pal.”

Riddick took a deep swallow of his drink, ignoring the burn of guilt and cheap tequila at the back of his throat. “You don’t get it.”

Cooper nodded. “No, you’re right. I couldn’t possibly understand all the deep, brooding thoughts you’ve got rolling around in that too-pretty head of yours. What do I know about you?”

Riddick didn’t bother answering. Seemed like Cooper just wanted to hear himself talk.

“Did Harper ever tell you about my dad?” Cooper asked.

What the fuck… “In case you haven’t noticed, Cooper, I’m not really in the mood for chitchat. Could you just—”

“My dad was human,” he interrupted. “A typical, ordinary human. My mom was a shifter. She never told him what she was. Just kind of hoped he’d never find out, you know? I think she thought that if she acted normal, even she’d eventually start to believe she was.”

Riddick resisted the urge to bang his head on the bar. “Christ, man, I don’t give a—”

“But she couldn’t pretend anymore when she had me. The first time my dad saw me shift in my crib, the jig was up.”