RICKMAS 2024

The Next Year

Harper stood just inside the break room, leaning lightly against the wall, a small plate of cake balanced in one hand. Laughter and murmured chatter filled the space, but it felt distant, as if she were watching it all from behind glass. 

The modest party, thrown in her honor, was a kind gesture, but too much fanfare in her honest opinion. When it became apparent she wouldn’t be allowed to leave without some sort of recognition, she relented under the stipulation it be held during her last shift.

Tonight held a blend of bittersweet energy. Mirth had been noticeably missing this past year, a difficult year for the entire town. Her coworkers—the nurses, techs, and fellow physicians who had been her second family—came up one by one, congratulating her with smiles that didn’t quite mask their sorrow.

“Gonna miss you, Harper,” said Wendy, a nurse who’d been there almost as long as Harper had. “The place won’t be the same without you.”

“I just can’t believe today’s the day,” another voice chimed in. “Feels like the end of an era.”

“It is,” Harper chuckled softly, glancing down at her plate. Everybody here had treated her kindly despite her rough beginnings as an urchin tainted by dark side of the mountain.

The TV blared muted updates from a story that captivated the nation, and causing headaches for all in their little town. “Former Officer Faces Trial in the Death of Three FBI Agents.”

Brad’s face flashed on the screen, his expression sullen as he was led into the courthouse. The sight made Harper’s stomach twist—not with pity or sadness, but with a complex tangle of emotions she hadn’t yet sorted through, though one was easily identifiable, hatred.

“Good riddance,” Bonnie muttered, following Harper’s gaze to the TV. “That guy gave me the creeps.”

A few others nodded in agreement, their voices overlapping with quiet remarks.

“Yeah, always hanging around Harper like a lost puppy.”

“Not just her—he had his eye on anyone he thought he could control.”

“I heard the Feds found out he was dirty all the way back to when he was a rookie.”

Harper tried to focus on the conversation, though the words seemed to blur together as she stared at Brad’s face on the screen. The staff didn’t know everything. And until recently, neither did Harper. What had begun as a quest for vengeance, looking for anybody to pin the deaths of those Feds all those years ago, came to a satisfying close with justice appropriately served. The FBI had yet to solve the Nakatomi Plaza ordeal, so this was a much needed win for them.

“Apparently, he was in cahoots with the Moonshine King since he started with the police,” someone said, shaking their head. “And then he tipped off the Feds when the Moonshine King caught him dabbling in matters that weren’t his own. Talk about playing both sides.”

“Figures,” Wendy added. “He was always been a sleaze.”

Harper set her plate down on the table, no longer hungry. She took a slow breath, her fingers curling around the edge of the counter as she tried to ground herself. Conversation shifted to lighter topics, her coworkers gazing at her with open sympathy.

The truth behind Brad’s corruption had rocked Harper to her very core. It all made sense now. For years, she’d been caught in his periphery, his possessive attention, refusing to take no for an answer. The large stash of drugs found in his home also probably fed his obsession. The news unburdened her in a way.

The fall of the Moonshine King wasn’t her fault at all, but Brad’s.

“It’s poetic, isn’t it?” someone else said, chuckling lightly. “The guy was so smug, and now he’s the one getting paraded around in handcuffs.”

Harper forced a smile, nodding faintly before stepping away from the group. The noise and warmth of the room felt stifling now, the weight of the past year pressing down on her. She’d been interviewed, of course. It was common knowledge Brad pursued her, but Harper answered those questions, spending many a sleepless night wondering if the hammer would soon crash down on her. A particular slip of paper comforted her on those nights, religiously stowed away in her pocket like a good luck charm.

She slipped out into the quiet of the hallway, the sound of the trial commentary fading behind her. Leaning against the cool wall, she let out a slow exhale, staring down at the floor.

This was the end of an era, as they’d said. Her last day at the ER, her home. The close of a chapter in her life that had been both grounding and suffocating.

But it was also a beginning.

Her mind drifted to the offer, the quiet, life-altering promise whispered in her home a year ago. Hans Gruber’s voice echoed in her mind—smooth, deliberate, and unyielding.

She hadn’t believed him then, hadn’t trusted him. But now, with Brad’s trial playing out in the background, the ghosts of the Moonshine King, and her small-town ties finally buried for good, she felt that maybe—just maybe—he was on to something.

Harper straightened, brushing her hands over her scrubs. The air outside the hospital would be crisp and cold, winter wrapping its fingers around the mountain. It was almost over. In a few days her belongings would be shipped off and the house sold. The world felt open in a way it hadn’t before.

The weight of that letter had been heavier than the paper itself. For months, Harper had kept it tucked in a drawer, folded and refolded so many times that the creases threatened to tear. Hans’ elegant, deliberate handwriting haunted her, the words etched into her memory long before she’d stopped reading it every night.

Dearest Harper,

You once told me you didn’t know who to trust. Allow me to simplify that for you.

Brad’s greed runs deeper than you imagined. Your Moonshine King suspected as much, which is why you were sent back early that night—to avoid his snare. I confirmed this myself, and the pieces fell into place as they always do. It was never your fault.

The ledger, scrubbed clean of your name, is in the hands of those who will make use of it. Consider this my parting gift, one of many. The world is vast and yours to claim—if you’ll let me give it to you.

With admiration and…more than I can say,

Hans

At first, she’d been furious. Embarrassed. How dare he leave her after that night? After the intimacy they’d shared, the way he’d unraveled her so completely with his touch and his words, only to disappear like a fucking literal thief in the night, leaving nothing but that damn letter.

But as the weeks stretched into months, and Brad’s trial gripped their small mountain town, Harper’s emotions began to shift. The FBI’s case was neatly packaged and prosecuted, thanks to an anonymous tip that had mysteriously appeared in their hands—complete with a ledger that conveniently excluded any mention of her.

Hans had been right. Of course, he’d been. He’d orchestrated Brad’s downfall before taking her to bed. No wonder he didn’t share in her fear. He’d already handled it. For her.

Her anger dissolved into reluctant gratitude, then something warmer, something she wasn’t quite ready to name. Hans was brilliant, sophisticated, and dangerous in ways she couldn’t fully comprehend. But he’d also kept his promise. He’d broken the chains that kept her there. Once she came to terms with that, she burned the letter, erasing the link between them in an abundance of caution.

Harper smiled faintly as her colleagues drifted over once more, the buzz of the party beginning to die down as the clock crept closer to midnight.

“So, where are you off to?” Bonnie asked, handing her a small gift bag. “I don’t think you ever told me what you’ll be doing.”

“Concierge medicine,” Harper replied honestly. “Somewhere far away from here.”

Bonnie’s eyes softened in understanding. As a mother to three girls, Brad’s relentless hounding of Harper scared her in a way she hadn’t thought possible. “On call doctor to the rich, huh?”

“Yeah,” Harper smiled. “It’ll be a nice change of pace.” 

“Boring more like it.” Bonnie pointed a finger at Harper. “Just don’t become a pill pusher. You’re more a script.”

Harper offered a lopsided grin. “So don’t put that as one of the perks I offer on the dating apps?” 

“Don’t devalue yourself,” Bonnie chided. “Find yourself a nice man and travel the world.” 

“Ain’t that the dream.”

Her coworkers murmured their congratulations at shift exchange, and as she left the hospital for the last time, the weight in her chest finally began to lift. She stopped by Ruby’s one last time for breakfast, Carl’s pancakes still not as fluffy as his mom’s, and a cup of coffee. The old-timers nodded to her, as they had when she was a child snuggled in a booth between her parents.

When she returned home, only a backpack and duffle bag of clothes remained of her belongings. The furniture would be donated, a small way for Harper to give back to the community who raised her. Laying in bed, she retrieved the second letter that’d been sent her approximately six months ago,  a to do list of sorts, ensuring every box had been checked. The map to her new life, orchestrated by a company she’d never heard of. But she felt no fear, only excitement and a hint of hope.

The chartered plane landed smoothly on the private airstrip, the sunset casting a warm, golden glow over the unfamiliar landscape. Harper stepped out, the crisp air biting at her skin as she spotted the driver waiting beside a sleek black car.

“Dr. Slaughter,” the man greeted her with a grin, opening the door to a sleek car with tinted windows for her. “Where to?”

Harper nodded, sliding into the seat. “Can I see my office?”

The driver chuckled. “It ain’t quite done yet. Boss ain’t happy with the contractors.”

“That’s fine,” Harper yawned. “How long’s the ride?”

“Couple hours. Feel free to nap.” He patted his side where a gun sat concealed. “I don’t foresee any trouble.”

The journey was too beautiful for her to sleep long. Winding roads gave way to city lights, and then, finally, to a high rise in the middle of downtown housing luxurious apartments. A part of Harper hoped she’d have access to a driver, the six lanes of traffic terrifying her. Her truck wouldn’t have done well here, but this was part of the growing pains.

“My office’s in there?!”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Inside, the space was immaculate, modern, and filled with boxes of medical equipment she’d requested months ago. She ran her fingers over the labels, the reality of it sinking in. Finally something familiar, something she understood.

During her inventory, strong arms slipped around her waist from behind. She gasped, her breath catching in her throat as the faintest hint of cologne teased her senses.

“Welcome, dear doctor,” Hans murmured, his lips brushing against the nape of her neck.

She leaned back into him despite herself, her pulse quickening as his hands lingered at her waist. “You really don’t know how to stay out of my life, do you?”

“On the contrary,” he said, his voice smooth and amused. “I’ve been planning this for months. I trust it meets your expectations?”

She laughed softly, her nerves easing under the warmth of his presence. “It’s perfect.”

“And all your documentation is in order?” He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I run a tight ship and will not have us getting caught on a minor technicality.”

“If you’re my boss,” Harper purred, leaning flush against him. “Doesn’t this qualify as an inappropriate relationship?”

“Is that what you want?”

“We never really had that discussion before you left me alone in your bed with your cum dripping down my leg.”

“It was an unfortunate necessity,” Hans explained apologetically. His chin found her shoulder. “A mistake I intend to rectify.”

Hans turned her gently, his dark eyes locking onto hers with that same unreadable intensity. He tilted her chin up, brushing a kiss against her lips—a promise, a claim.

“How does dinner sound?” He asked, cradling her face with such tenderness. “Followed by dessert. We’ll go to the finest establishment in the city.” 

“I don’t have anything fancy enough to wear,” Harper chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Can we do take out?”

“Whatever my lady desires.”

“Pizza and wings from Domino’s?”

“You have a lot to learn, my dear.” Hans’ lip curled in mock disgust. “There will be times we are holed up in less than hospitable areas, eating food slightly better than the cardboard it’s packaged in. But during our down time you will experience the luxury you deserve.” 

He plucked her broken in Carhartt for emphasis. “This is suitable for work, but otherwise you will be clothed in the very finest.”

“I don’t know about that, Hans.” Harper shifted uncomfortably, the first wave of misgivings worming its way in her mind. “I don’t know much about fashion.”

“Then I shall procure a stylist,” Hans chuckled, throughly unbothered with the prospect of throwing money a frivolous problem. “Though I must admit, a little black dress with a diamond necklace would be quite distracting.”

His hands massaging Harper’s sides were incredibly distracting, but not near as distracting as his soothing baritone. “Finery does not stop at formal gowns, furs, and heels, Harper,” Hans continued. “We will be spending a lot more time in the cold. Sweaters, wool coats, and trousers that show off that pert ass. Maybe a nice set of lingerie.”

“Back to dinner,” Harper redirected, focusing on how right it felt nestled in his arms as opposed to the delicious fire pooling in her core. “Can we get pizza? Please?”

“I know a place,” Hans sighed, though Harper was sure it was the fanciest of pizza. How that was possible, she didn’t have a clue. Maybe the dough had flakes of gold in it or something equally ostentatious. “I’ll have somebody place an order and bring it here. And after we eat, I make good on my word and have you scream around my cock?” 

“And will you spend the night?” she asked when they broke apart, her voice steady but laced with curiosity.

“Oh you don’t live here,” Hans smiled, a glint of boyish mischief in his eyes as he led her out of the apartment and down the hall. “Tell me, have you ever had a roommate?”

“No,” Harper cocked her head. “I don’t remember being told anything about a roommate.”

Smirking, Hans produced a key and opened the door, revealing a stunning penthouse bigger than her damn house. Marble gleamed in the kitchen, dirtied up by her cardboard boxes labeled in her familiar scrawl. But what stopped her was the view of the city twinkling in the night, a far cry from her humble roots. The sight was indescribable.

His arms encircled her waist once more. “Will this do?”

“Absolutely,” Harper breathed, unable to comprehend Hans’ offer far extended beyond a job. “But I do snore.”

“I’m aware,” Hans chuckled, breathing her scent in again. “Tonight, we celebrate a fortuitous acquisition.”

“You make it sound so formal,” Harper giggled, looking forward to waking up next to him every morning. “And tomorrow?”

“I show you around the city, let you meet some of my associates,” Hans shrugged, drumming his thumbs against her navel.

“Are they nice?”

“If their treatment of you is unsatisfactory, it shall be handled,” he growled dangerously, reminding Harper of the duality of his nature. Hans Gruber was truly a man of many layers and Harper looked forward to learning them all. He was a dangerous criminal, yes, but beneath all of that, he was just a man. One who’d given Harper an opportunity worth its weight in gold and potentially something far more terrifying.

“I’ve missed you,” Hans whispered. “Every day since I left. If you let me, I will assure you want for nothing.”

“Can we steal the Declaration of Independence?” Harper teased, fully expecting him to discount the idea entirely.

“You think too small, my dear doctor.” Hans scoffed, offering an intelligent wicked grin that made her weak in the knees. “For you, I would steal the Crown Jewels.”

Six Months Later

The hum of the van’s engine filled the silence as they cruised through the dimly lit streets, weaving seamlessly into traffic. Harper settled back into her makeshift seat, an empty supply crate she’d repurposed for the ride, and cast a quick glance around the van. Hans’ crew, a ragtag group of hardened professionals and eccentric specialists, lounged in various states of post-job adrenaline, their animated chatter punctuated by occasional bursts of laughter.

The air smelled of sweat, gunpowder, and a faint trace of motor oil, but there was something oddly comforting about it. Familiar.

“Anybody hurt?” Harper’s voice cut through the noise, calm but firm, a habit from her ER days.

“Nope!” one man shouted from the back.

“Alles gut!” echoed another, holding up his hand in a thumbs-up.

Harper’s gaze swept over them, noting a few bruises and scrapes but nothing serious. It was a relief, but her attention quickly zeroed in on Hans as he leaned back against the side of the van, looking smug despite the streak of blood on his temple.

Without a word, she crossed the narrow aisle, her medical kit already in hand. As she crouched in front of him, Hans’ men parted slightly, giving her space like a reverent ripple. She had no illusions about what that meant. Hans’ orders were absolute. He was hers, and she was his.

“Hold still,” Harper muttered, tearing open an alcohol swab.

Hans tilted his head with a faint, amused smirk, his dark eyes locking onto hers as she dabbed at the wound on his forehead. “You’re relentless, meineLiebe.”

“And you’re reckless,” she shot back, though her voice softened as she noticed him wince at the sting.

“Occupational hazard,” he murmured, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a sleek, intricate piece of hardware, holding it up to the light like a trophy. The faint glow of the van’s interior lamps reflected in his eyes.

“This,” he said, his voice laced with pride, “is the heart of their operation. Months of planning, countless setbacks, and one particularly stubborn door—but we got it.”

Harper glanced at the device, not entirely sure what it was but knowing it symbolized victory. “So how do you like corporate espionage?” she asked, raising a brow.

“Much easier,” Hans chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating in the confined space. He pulled her closer with a casual but possessive tug, his hands firm at her waist. Her cheeks flushed as his men averted their eyes, their chatter picking up again like clockwork.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” she sighed, her voice quieter now, almost a whisper.

Hans leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of her ear as he spoke. “More than fine. I’m alive victorious, and have a beautiful woman tending to my wounds. I want for nothing.”

The intensity of his gaze made her heart skip a beat, and before she could deliver a snappy reply, he tilted her chin up and kissed her.

It was bold, unapologetic, and entirely Hans.

The rest of the van may as well have disappeared as the kiss deepened, the weight of their connection tangible in the confined space. For all his precision and control in the field, there was nothing restrained about the way he kissed her. It was a promise, a claim, and a celebration all at once.

When they finally pulled apart, Harper pressed her palm lightly to his chest, steadying herself as much as pushing him away. Her stomach flipped when he looked at her like that, like she was the most valuable prize in all his schemes.

He leaned back, his arms still loosely around her as the van hit a bump, jostling them closer. The faint murmur of conversation and the hum of the engine filled the space once more, but Harper couldn’t shake the warmth that lingered in her chest—or the way Hans’ thumb traced small, absentminded circles against her hip.

Relaxing into his chest, Harper smiled. No matter how far they ran or how elaborate the heist, Hans would always come back. To her. It was messy and chaotic and completely unorthodox, but somehow, this was the life and man she’d waited for.