Chapter 1 - The Wrong Dangerous Man
Gabriel Ashford did not move.
For one long second, neither did Harper.
The room seemed to shrink around them—the marble walls, the white towels, the chandelier light, the red streak on the floor.
Gabriel’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke.
“Who did that to you?”
Harper yanked the top of her uniform over her shoulders and reached for the zipper with shaking fingers.
“No one.”
His eyes hardened.
“That answer works on people who don’t know what bruises look like.”
“I fell.”
“Several dozen times?”
Her face burned.
Gabriel stepped back instead of closer.
It surprised her.
Men like Derek always moved in when they sensed fear. They crowded it. Used it. Made sure you remembered who owned the room.
Gabriel gave her space.
“Your leg is bleeding,” he said.
“I can handle it.”
“I can see that.”
Something in his tone made the words hurt more than an insult would have.
Harper looked away.
“I’m sorry I came in here. Mrs. Morrison said—”
“I don’t care about the bathroom.”
“I do. I need this job.”
Gabriel studied her for a moment, then looked at the cloth on the floor.
“Sit down.”
Her spine stiffened. “No.”
His eyebrows lifted.
Harper swallowed. “I mean... sir, I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding through your stocking.”
“I said I’m fine.”
The words came out sharper than she intended.
A man with Gabriel Ashford’s reputation could have taken offense.
Instead, he nodded once.
“All right.”
That scared her almost more.
He walked to a cabinet, opened it, and took out a first-aid kit. He set it on the marble counter and stepped away.
“You use it. I won’t touch you.”
Harper stared at him.
“Why?”
“Because you look like you’re deciding whether the window is high enough to jump from.”
Her throat tightened.
He had noticed.
Derek never noticed fear unless he caused it.
Gabriel noticed everything.
Harper opened the kit with trembling hands.
“You’re going to fire me,” she whispered.
“No.”
“Mrs. Morrison will.”
“No.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“I know somebody beat you badly enough to crack ribs, and you still came to work.”
Harper froze.
“How do you know about my ribs?”
“You’re protecting your left side every time you breathe.”
She said nothing.
Gabriel leaned against the doorframe, arms folded.
“Who is he?”
Harper’s hand stopped over the bandage.
“No one.”
“Harper.”
It was the first time he had said her name.
She hated how safe it sounded.
“My ex-husband.”
Gabriel’s face changed by less than an inch, but the temperature in the room seemed to drop.
“Name.”
“No.”
“Is he looking for you?”
She hesitated.
That was enough.
Gabriel pushed away from the wall.
“Does he know where you live?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“He’s a cop.”
Gabriel went still.
Harper immediately regretted saying it.
“What precinct?”
She looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because a cop who beats his wife doesn’t stop being dangerous when the marriage ends.”
“Precinct 12.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Roxbury.”
“You know it?”
“I know people there.”
Of course he did.
Harper’s pulse jumped.
“This is exactly why I didn’t want anyone involved.”
“Because you think I’m going to start a war with the Boston Police Department?”
“Aren’t you?”
For the first time, something almost like amusement touched his face.
“No. Wars are messy.”
That answer did not comfort her.
She taped the bandage over her calf and stood.
“I should finish cleaning.”
“You should go home.”
“I need the hours.”
“You’ll be paid for them.”
“I don’t want charity.”
“Good. I don’t give charity.”
His gaze stayed on hers.
“I give orders.”
There he was—the man from the newspapers.
Harper lifted her chin. “Then order someone else around.”
Silence.
She realized what she had said.
Her stomach dropped.
Gabriel stared at her for three seconds.
Then he laughed.
Not loudly.
Not kindly, exactly.
But genuinely.
“You’re either very brave or very tired.”
“Mostly tired.”
“I believe that.”
He stepped aside and opened the door fully.
“Go home, Harper.”
She walked past him, every nerve awake.
At the end of the hall, his voice stopped her.
“Your brother’s name is Noah, right?”
Harper turned so fast pain shot through her ribs.
“How do you know that?”
Gabriel’s expression sharpened.
“Mrs. Morrison mentioned him when she hired you.”
Harper exhaled.
Then Gabriel’s phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
Whatever he saw erased the last trace of humor from his face.
He answered.
“Yes?”
A man’s voice spoke quickly on the other end.
Gabriel’s eyes lifted to Harper.
“When?”
A pause.
“Keep him there.”
He ended the call.
Harper’s skin went cold.
“What happened?”
Gabriel slipped the phone into his pocket.
“Someone was caught outside the east gate ten minutes ago.”
“Who?”
Gabriel looked straight at her.
May you like
“A Boston police officer named Derek Lawson.”
