by Kay Maree
“Sweet tea, no ice, and whatever the lady wants,” Ryker nods in my direction.
“Ah, I’ll just have the same please.”
As she retreats, Ryker’s arm extends across the table so that he can take my hand in his. “Last thing I want is for you to be nervous, baby. This is just a man and a woman having a meal together, getting to know one another. Nothing more. At least, not yet.”
What does that mean? Not yet? Does that mean Ryker intends to ask me out again? We haven’t even started this date. I mean, he might not even like me after he finds out about my diplomatically named character quirks.
Saved by the bell, the waitress delivers our drinks and takes our food order - the meatloaf special for Ryker and a cheeseburger and fries for me - then leaves again as quickly as she arrived. So much for the sisterhood. Can’t she recognize I’m a woman in need of a save here? But then again, I’m not sure if she’d be saving me so much as getting me out of the way so that she could take my place. I bite back a growl as that thought pops into my head, a growl that Ryker must have heard based on the sexy curl of his lips, To make matters worse, he winks at me which aside from the full-body shiver it causes it only goes on to solidify that this probably wasn’t such a great idea; maybe I do need an out.
Which reminds me, I should have called Amity and told her about my date. She would have been my phone a friend lifeline that I could have engaged if I needed an emergency out. But that said, the evil wench probably would have sacrificed me at the first sign of trouble if she thought it would help me get myself some from a hot guy. Amity’s a bitch like that.
“Whatever’s put that look on your face, get it out of your head,” Ryker’s smooth baritone orders. “Eat your burger, baby. You feel up to multitasking, you can tell me about yourself while you do. If not, I’ll share some shit about me and we’ll take it from there.”
My face heats at his words and I just know I’m blushing like a middle-schooler with her first crush. This isn’t me. I don’t do embarrassed. I’m a strong, independent woman dammit, and I refuse to melt into a puddle at this mans feet just because he’s turned on the charm. Been there, done that, got the breakups to prove it.
I may not be experienced when it comes to intimacy, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t had my fair share of great first dates that sadly, but surely turned into crappy second ones.
In my experience, men are on their best behaviour on the first date. They open doors, make an effort to impress with their choice of restaurant and scintillating conversational skills, they pay for dinner without scrutinizing the bill all in the vain hopes that you’ll be hooked deep enough by the end of the night to overlook the fact that they are actually raging dickbags. A personality trait they share widely in a variety of ways on the second date.
If I were a guy, I’d wait until at least the sixth date before I pulled out my lifetime membership card to the asshole club and waved it all around. Why? Because honestly, the chances the woman you’re fooling into spending time with you will have put out by then is high. Not that I’m judging or anything, but there are only a very few from a select group of women who get down and dirty on date two, and most of them aren’t what I’d call keepers. Again, not being judgy, just stating a fact.
So, for those reasons, amongst others, I can’t help but err on the side of caution when it comes to Ryker. And while I’d love nothing more than to climb him like the mountain he is, scaling every ridge and exploring each crevice he has to offer, my inner slut is going to have to go back into her box until I’m sure she is safe to come out to play.
Tilting my head in contemplation, I share the cliff notes. “I have two jobs, both part-time but together they take up most of my time. I like to knit, and before you laugh my Grammy taught me before she died in an effort to keep me from building bombs and setting off grenades in the backyard.” True story. I was a hellion, still am and I’m proud of it. “My dad and his merry band of badasses are bounty hunters, which I’m sure you know since they don’t keep that knowledge quiet. I’m an only child, a boon and a curse, and my mom took off to parts unknown when I was three and we haven’t seen or heard from her since.” Now, if that doesn’t scare him off, I don’t know what will but I’m relatively certain knowing my luck I’m going to find out.
I wouldn’t say I have abandonment issues per say, but I can’t help the occasional sting of disappointment at the knowledge my mom didn’t care about me enough to stay. And while my dad tried desperately to make up for her absence it didn’t change the fact that as a young girl I needed my mom.
As I was growing up, I watched my friends and saw how their mothers doted on them. Sure, sometimes they were helicopter parents, practically smothering them with their incessant need to protect them, but truth be told, I would have given up anything to be wrapped in my mother's arms as she explained to me the boy who pushed me over in the playground didn’t do it because he hated me, but because he had a crush on me. That explanation would have been far more preferable than my dad’s response, which was to threaten the kids life that if he ever touched me again.
At that age I thought dad was merely trying to scare the boy, but knowing what I know now, I wouldn’t put it past him to follow through with his far from idle threats. My assumptions are only further confirmed by statistical proof, seeing as most guys steer clear of me for fear of my dad’s wrath should they hurt me. And while I can’t blame them, it still hurts that they wouldn’t put in the effort to win my dad over so we could at least see if there was anything worth exploring between us.
On that cheerful note, I refocus my attention on the handsome man in front of me, waiting on tenterhooks as he processes what I just said. I’m not sure I’m ready to know what he thinks and I’m terrified he will just say fuck it and just walk away without a backwards glance, but I suppose only time will tell.
CHAPTER FIVE
Firestarter ~ The Prodigy
THE SABOTEUR
Oblivious. The human race, on the whole, was fucking oblivious and ignorant. If it wasn’t right in front of them, if they couldn’t reach out and touch it, taste it, smell it, see or hear it, it simply didn’t exist. Which is why this was so easy for me. So goddamn easy I’d find it humorous if I weren’t so fucking frustrated.
My frustration is building with every day that passes. The ball of nervous energy and anticipation swells in my gut. But I have a plan, a fucking good one, one that won’t be derailed by the man whose name I know almost as well as I know my own but refuse to acknowledge. A plan that most assuredly will not be foiled by my own emotions either, not when it is so very close to coming to fruition.
I have waited. I have been patient. I spent hours revelling in the knowledge that she will soon be mine and there is not a thing anyone can do to stop me.
In my head, it plays out like a movie. Seamless. Beautiful in its inception. Flawlessly executed. I will be her leading man and she will be my heroine. The circumstances that are eventually going to see us thrust together may be less than ideal to mere mortals, but there are greater powers at work here. Powers that demand their due, their pound of flesh so to speak.
For years I have watched, waiting for the moment the only girl who has ever captured my attention turns into a woman worthy of the man I am, and finally, she has. She has blossomed into a stunning creature, one which I plan to possess entirely.
Her beauty and grace will serve her well in the weeks and months to come. Her strength and positivity will help her to look past the darkness that will shroud her life for as long as it takes her to submit to my commands. And her innocence...well, that will be the only thing that saves her.
CHAPTER SIX
Vice Grip ~ Parkway Drive
RYKER
If I thought Seraphina was made for me before our date, I damn well know she is my reward now. We’re not even halfway through our meals and I’ve learned more about her than I have any woman in the past fifteen years that I’ve taken to bed, an
d all of it I like. I get the sense that’s the opposite of what she was hoping for, but Seraphina has a lot to learn about me. I’m not easily deterred, especially not when the prize sitting across from me is worth the fight it’ll take to win her.
I won’t lie, it is a little disturbing that a woman who looks like a fairy princess is capable of assembling an incendiary device, but I’d expect no less when said fairy princesses father goes by the name, Jackson McKay.
It’s not common knowledge - his cover as a bank security guard was that good - but Jackson McKay isn’t your average run of the mill bounty hunter. Him and his team are trained in K&R and deep cover reconnaissance, both skill sets they use regularly for a variety of government organizations. Their work is off the books, their asses left hung out to dry if they get caught, but it’s safe to assume the contract fee they charge is worth the risk.
It took me a hot minute after meeting Seraphina at the grocery store to engage my best friend and computer genius extraordinaire, Kael to do a deep dive for any and all information that pertains to the beauty I have my sights set on. And because he is just that good, Kael delivered and he did it in a big way.
Jackson McKay, Lucas Delaney, Axel Hawkins and Leon Briggs are all dangerous motherfuckers in their own right, but together they are deadly. Lucas and Axel are trained ex-black ops with more than two hundred confirmed kills between them, both men expert marksman with little respect for the rules of engagement. Leon and Jackson while not ex-military both mentored under the head of covert operations for the CIA among other things. I’m pretty sure, based on the redacted files Kael got his hands on, Leon and Jackson saw more action in their seven years working for the company than Axel and Lucas did in during their twelve years of military service but that’s merely a guess seeing as more than half their files were blacked out.
Her dad aside, Seraphina comes from a long line of badass motherfuckers, none of which scares me it simply explains a lot. Seraphina is wary, watchful, reserved even. It doesn’t take a genius to work out she’s been taught to be cautious with more than just her heart. But guarded or not, that’s a wall I intend to scale because she’s worth it. Every stunning, perfect inch of her.
“I’m sorry your mom left, sweetheart,” I offer genuinely. I know exactly how it feels to be deserted by a parent. Regardless of the fact both of mine were physically there, neither were present so I can sympathize.
“Thanks,” she shrugs, “but you have nothing to be sorry for. I can barely remember her, so it’s her loss, not mine.”
The way those words fall from her lips so casually is concerning. It’s as if they are devoid of all emotion. I, however, know better. Try as she might, she can’t fool me. I call bullshit on her impersonation of a robot when I know damn well that deep inside there is a little girl yearning for all of the love and affection only a mother could have given her. Our situations aren’t the same but they are similar, which is why I can safely say that no matter how much she down plays her feelings they won’t ever change.
For now, I won’t push her to share, though. I’ll let her keep her unwarranted insecurities but only with the hope that in time, she lets her guard down long enough to share with me so that I can shoulder her hurt and heartbreak.
“Still, doesn’t feel good to have someone whose sole purpose in life is to protect you, be there for you through thick and thin be derelict in those duties, baby.” The words are out before I can stop them and base on the way her eyes flash I’d say I hit the nail on the head.
“My dad made up for her absence for the most part,” she replies, but I can’t help noticing the shadow that crosses her eyes for a split second before she masks it.
Interesting. It’s not the time nor the place, but that look is one I’ll be exploring later when she’s come to terms with what we’re going to mean to each other and I’ve got her somewhere private. Like, say, my cabin in Seven Rivers, a mile as the crow flies away from my nearest neighbor in a place where I can focus solely on her.
“I know you work for your old man, sweetheart, it’s hard not to when every second word out of his mouth he’s bragging about you, but what I don’t know is why you’re working a second job?”
Her sweet giggle hits me in the heart and cock simultaneously, and fuck me if that isn’t the cutest thing I’ve ever heard in my long thirty-five years on this Earth. My body relaxes a little at the change of subject and the effect that has on her. Seraphina smiling is far more acceptable to me and my state of mind than her robotic responses earlier.
“It started off as a requirement to taking over my dads office, but it ended up being a job I can’t bring myself to quit. Dr Kettle is getting older and forgetful. Without me and Sadie his other receptionist I doubt he’d be able to keep his practice open.”
“If he’s that bad, maybe it’s not such a bad idea he throws in the towel,” I offer by way of reply.
“No,” Seraphina shakes her head adamantly. “I truly believe his job is the only thing keeping him going. His wife passed away five years ago from cancer, his daughter lives in Chicago with her wife and never visits, and the only other thing in his life besides his work is a cat who hates him and make her feelings clear on a daily basis.”
Wanting to delve into other more important topics than a crazy old cat man who should have retired near on a decade ago, I simply nod. “Now tell me about these homemade explosives,” I say, arching an eyebrow at her. “‘Cause, baby, I’ve gotta say as a fireman and someone who likes Lubbock’s landscape without any craters or cavernous gorges that aren’t made by the hand of God himself, that shit is not safe. I’ve seen more than my fair share of backyard explosives go wrong in a way that those who are injured by them don’t always recover.”
“Pshh,” Seraphina huffs. “The days of explosions and batting practice with grenades are behind me. Amity and I learned our lesson the hard way the summer we turned fourteen when we accidentally blew up dad’s man shed. It was an honest mistake, we miscalculated the range on Uncle Axel’s pitching machine when we loaded it with the grenade, but it was a mistake we paid for after dad told us we’d be helping to rebuild the shed in the one-hundred and ten-degree heat wave that hit us that year.”
Chuckling at her nonchalance, I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “Good to know you’ve got the self-preservation gene, baby, because it’d be a damn shame if something happened to that beautiful little body of yours.”
The pink blush that stole over her face at my earlier compliment is back in full force. Just another thing I find fucking adorable about her. I’m quickly learning there’s not much I don’t find cute, sexy, hot as fuck or adorable when it comes to Seraphina which is something that makes me all the more certain this fairy princess was put in my path for a reason much deeper than my initial lust-filled desire to get her naked and underneath me.
With an expression of pure curiosity, she murmurs, “Can I ask you a question? And I want an honest answer, not just what you think I want to hear.”
“Anything. You can ask me anything, sweetheart. And as for honesty, that’s all you’ll ever get from me. I might be a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”
And it’s true.
I’ve done a lot of shit I regret in the past, but that was then and this is now. As far as I’m concerned, this is my chance at a blank slate, a fresh canvas that we can paint however we so choose but its foundation won’t be built on half-truths or lies.
“Why me?” She asks, tilting her head to the side as if she’s studying me. “You know my dad so you have to have done the math by now. I’m a lot younger than you, I’m nowhere near as accomplished, and my greatest claim to fame is that I can knit a grenade cozie in under ten minutes. My best friend is arguably less well adjusted than I am, and I come with a metric ton of baggage in the form of three overprotective Uncles and a father who together own more guns than the general populous of Texas. I don’t want you to think I’m fishing for compliments when I say this e
ither, but you could do better. Much better. So the question remains, why me?”
There are so many ways I could answer her. I could explain that she literally rendered me speechless at the first sight of her standing beside a collapsed display of Capt’n Crunch, or that her brown and gold speckled eyes held me captive as she smiled her bright white smile at me. I could further go on to tell her that my heart stalled and my lungs froze at the thought of never seeing her again, but my gut instinct tells me that won’t be enough to quell the concern and confusion warring behind her eyes.
So with that in mind, I go with the truth. The whole, uncensored, truth. I just have to cross my fingers and hope like fuck it doesn’t scare the shit out of her and send her running for the hills.
“I felt it. I didn’t know what it was, not until you pulled your hand from mine and all I felt was a loss. Then I knew. I knew you were meant to be mine, that I was exactly where I needed to be at the exact moment I needed to be there. I don’t shop at that store usually, don’t even know why I chose that day to change shit up but as soon as I went to drive past, something deep in my gut told me to turn the fuck around and go inside. Now I know that thing was fate. Fate brought me to you; it’s as if the fates knew the woman I’d spent my whole life looking for was right there waiting for me to find her, I just had to listen and let them guide me. Know who your dad is, baby. Know who the men you call your Uncle’s are too. You can’t live within a hundred miles of Lubbock without knowing who they are and what they do, but that doesn’t change a damn thing, not for me and I hope not for you either. And as for your age,” I say, shooting her a predatory grin, “that makes my cock hard and my heart happy that you’d even consider going out with an old man like me.”
“Old,” she scoffs. “Thirty-five is hardly old, Ryker.”