Appeal to You (A Beyond the Cove Novel Book 3)

by Jaclyn Quinn

  Avery sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m making no promises that I’ll stop before shoving you out the door. Hope you know how to tuck and roll.” He turned and headed for the door, knowing Ryder would follow.

  “Hot damn,” Ryder breathed out. “I like it rough.”

  Avery made sure to keep walking, even when he sucked in a quick breath at the mental image Ryder had just planted in his head.

  The drive to Ryder’s place was surprisingly quiet, but it made no sense that the guy would be nervous. Nothing made Ryder nervous. There sure as hell wouldn’t be anything happening with them tonight. Tonight? Because you’d be fine fucking him another night? Man, the part of his brain that thought Ryder was sexy as hell needed to sit down.

  Ryder rubbed his hands on his thighs then pointed out the window. “Right on Hayward Street. It’s, uh…not the nicest place. I’m sure you live in some fancy high rise, huh?”

  Is that what all the awkward silence is about? He’s nervous about me seeing where he lives? Just from the direction they were going in, Avery knew this wasn’t the place Ryder used to live. “I’m sure it’s fine. Besides, the bonus is you get to live by the beach. Plenty of people would love this location.” Avery glanced at Ryder and saw some of the tension ease from his shoulders. He didn’t bother to mention that, yeah, he did live in one of those fancy high rises. He worked hard for it and wasn’t going to apologize for that. You didn’t exactly start off broke, he reminded himself. A lot of the people in and around Brighton Pier didn’t have it as easy as Avery had growing up; Ryder, he assumed, being one of them.

  As Avery turned into the complex, Ryder sat up in his seat, peering out the window at something. “That looks like my place.”

  Avery pulled into a spot, looking at the crowd of people standing in front of an open door. “That’s your apartment?”

  Before he got an answer, Ryder was out the door, closing it behind him then jogging down the sidewalk in between the two buildings. Avery shut his car off and got out, following Ryder to, apparently, his place.

  It was obvious as soon as he got closer and pushed his way through the crowd that Mrs. Rowan’s door was wide open. Shit. What happened?

  “What’s going on?” Ryder asked no one in general, pushing up onto his toes to try and get a better look.

  “The old lady died,” someone said and Ryder sucked in a breath. He whipped his head to the right, looking for the source of his answer which ended up being the guy who lived two doors down from them.

  “Are you serious?” But I just said hi to her this morning, and she wasn’t that old.

  “Yeah. Someone alerted the landlord, and he called the police,” the older guy—Lewis, maybe?—replied, shaking his head. “Damn shame. The kid ain’t nowhere to be found.”

  Ryder quickly looked back at the door, a chill running up his spine. “What do you mean he’s nowhere to be found?” Shit, this isn’t good.

  “What’s going on?” Avery’s voice next to him surprised Ryder; for the first time in a year, Ryder had completely forgotten about the man.

  “My downstairs neighbor died,” Ryder answered, clearing the lump from his throat. She was a nice woman. They had always gotten along great. Not that they were close, but she always stayed out of Ryder’s business, and he always made sure not to make too much noise upstairs. Ryder looked at Avery, letting out a heavy breath. “They can’t find her grandson.” He swallowed again, thinking of the kid being scared and alone somewhere. “He’s twelve, Avery.”

  “Shit,” Avery said, then looked over at one of the officers. “Hey, Branson…” He nudged his head to the side and the officer nodded. Ryder followed Avery as he walked toward the officer, out of earshot of the crowd. “You know there’s a child involved, right?”

  “Yeah, I know. Couple of neighbors informed us. Kid’s name is Christian Rowan.” The guy—Officer Branson, apparently—crossed his arms, shaking his head. “Landlord said it was a boy who called him. Said the kid almost slipped and called her grandma and sounded really upset.”

  “So, he found her? Dead?” Ryder swallowed down the bile rising in his throat.

  “Seems that way. Kid that age shouldn’t be out there alone. We’ve got men out on patrol, keeping an eye out for him. There was a school photo on one of the shelves. We’ll see if anyone in the area has seen him. There was no sign of forced entry, and it appears the woman may have had a stroke, but that’s to be determined. A pile of clothes were in a corner of the living room. My guess is he got scared and didn’t take much with him.”

  “Only what would fit in a backpack,” Ryder mumbled without thinking.

  “Do you know where the child is?” the officer asked, his words not exactly accusing, but definitely full of suspicion.

  Still, Ryder’s defenses shot up. “No, just speaking from experience.” He felt Avery giving him a curious look and wanted to kick himself for his lack of a fucking filter. Ryder let his gaze flick to Avery but quickly looked back toward the apartment.

  “Officer Branson, this is Ryder Pearce. He lives in the upstairs apartment.” Avery put a hand on Ryder’s arm, and Ryder felt the warmth everywhere. “Ryder, were you close with them?”

  Shaking his head, Ryder turned back to the two men. “Not really. I mean, I’d talk to them whenever I saw them, but it’s not like we know each other that well. Usually, Chris sits out here on the steps drawing.”

  “Do you know of any other family he might have? Mom or dad?” the officer asked.

  Ryder snorted humorously. “No idea about his parents. Mrs. Rowan was the only one I saw who gave a shit about him.” Anger coursed through Ryder’s veins, and he couldn’t help but aim most of that at himself. He should’ve asked Chris the other day what he’d meant about his grandma being tired. Had she been getting sick then? Could he have helped? He hung his head, gripping the back of his neck in a painful hold.

  “Are you okay?” Avery asked softy. It was then Ryder realized the guy was standing right in front of him with a boatload of concern in his blue eyes. The cop must have walked away, too, because now it was just the two of them.

  “Feeling like an ass, is all. I just saw her this morning. I swear, Avery, she didn’t look much different to me. I mean, she was in her mid-sixties, I think. Wasn’t sick, that I knew of.” Ryder ran his hands through his hair, gripping the strands in frustration. “I have to look for him. I don’t even know if he has anyone else. I—”

  “Let’s go,” Avery said, cutting Ryder off.

  “What?”

  “I said, let’s go. I’ll help you look.” Avery turned to walk away when Ryder grabbed his arm. They stared at each other for a second before Avery pulled his arm out of Ryder’s grasp—damned if Ryder didn’t feel the loss, too. “Come on. It’ll be dark soon.” This time Ryder didn’t stop the man, but instead, he followed him, scanning the area around them.

  Chris, where are you?

  After three hours of looking, they still had no luck finding the child, and Avery couldn’t shake the sinking feeling in his gut. He kept picturing Dylan or Nick out there at night, scared and alone. He and Ryder both knew it would be easier to look during the day, that maybe Chris would come out of hiding then. It didn’t make it any easier to make the decision to quit for the night.

  “Do you want to try again tomorrow?” Avery asked Ryder as they came up to his door.

  Ryder took one last look around the courtyard, as if the boy would suddenly appear. His shoulders sagged when his last-ditch effort came up empty. “I wish I could, but I have clients and it’s too last minute to cancel on them.”

  It occurred to Avery at that exact moment that he’d never seen Ryder’s work. He had to be a talented artist if he worked for Jake. All Avery got to see of him was the shameless flirt and sarcastic jokester. Except for tonight. Tonight, Avery saw a level of concern he didn’t think the man had. “Are you going to be okay?”

  “Me?” Ryder asked, his brows drawing together. He shifted from foot to
foot and slipped his hands into his pockets.

  “Yeah, you.” Avery studied him, noticed how he wouldn’t make eye contact with him.

  Ryder’s sidelong gaze once again focused on the courtyard when he asked, “What’s gonna happen to him if they find him?”

  “When they find him, they’ll check to see if he has any family that can take him in.” Avery took a deep breath, releasing it slowly before adding, “And if he doesn’t, he’ll go into foster care.”

  Ryder flinched, his eyebrows pinching together over stormy gray eyes as they flicked back to Avery, and what Avery saw in them… Jesus, that answer hit a nerve. Ryder rolled his shoulders back and gave a hard nod.

  “Ryder…” Avery didn’t know what to say to make any of this better.

  “I’m gonna…” Ryder hiked a thumb over his shoulder at his door then pushed the black frames up on his nose.

  A sudden reluctance to leave him washed over Avery, and he had no idea what to do with that. He could handle sarcastic, inappropriate Ryder over this man. He didn’t know what to do with this Ryder. Because you didn’t think this side of Ryder existed. Logically, he knew that wasn’t all his fault. Ryder let people see what he wanted them to see.

  “Yeah, okay. Listen…” Shit, am I really going to do this? “Give me your phone.” Avery put his palm out and almost laughed at the skeptical look on Ryder’s face. He sighed and rolled his eyes. “Just give it to me.”

  Ryder raised an eyebrow but reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, setting it in Avery’s hand. Avery quickly pulled up the keypad, plugged his number in, and hit send. Ryder’s eyes widened when Avery’s phone started ringing in his pocket.

  “Text me tomorrow if you want to go look again. If I hear anything, I’ll call you.” Avery handed Ryder his phone and took a step back.

  “That was smooth,” Ryder teased as one side of his mouth quirked up.

  “You’re ridiculous.” Avery tried his best to keep a straight face.

  “You could’ve just asked for my number.”

  “I’m leaving now.” That time, he couldn’t help the smile forming.

  “I mean, it took you long enough.” The tension had eased from Ryder’s face, and Avery had to admit, he was happy to see the man joking again.

  “Night, Ryder—” As soon as the words came out, Avery barked out a laugh.

  “I will seriously hurt you if you even think—”

  Avery squinted his eyes and attempted to hold in the laugh. “I mean, I see the resemblance. The Hoff’s a little hairier, though.”

  “You did. You went there.” Ryder shook his head, but a laugh tumbled out of that gorgeous mouth. He turned for his door and pulled out his keys.

  “Hey,” Avery said and waited for Ryder to turn around. “Goodnight, Ryder.”

  “Night, Avery.” Ryder opened his door, looking back one more time before he let himself in, closing the heavy door behind him.

  By the time Avery walked in his condo, he was dragging his feet, yawning on his way into the bathroom. Of course, once he finally crawled into bed, he was wide awake again.

  Tonight threw him for a loop. He’d never planned on driving Ryder home, never mind walking the streets with him for hours looking for a runaway child. Please, keep that kid safe tonight. Avery didn’t know who he was sending that prayer up to, but he hoped someone was listening. How was he supposed to close his eyes and fall asleep in his nice, warm bed while a twelve-year-old boy slept God knew where tonight?

  Ryder had looked absolutely torn apart, especially at the mention of foster care. The thought of a young Ryder going through—Avery didn’t even want to think about what Ryder might have gone through. It was obvious that Ryder was not okay with the thought of Chris being placed in some stranger’s home. It didn’t sit well with Avery, either, and he’d never even met the boy.

  Avery sighed, turning to his left side and stared out the window. For the first time, he was finally starting to see some layers to Ryder. Not the façade he always showed the world, but the layers underneath. It sure was different from the man he’d met over a year and a half ago…

  Avery had no intention of going home with anyone tonight, especially the heavily tattooed, cocky guy leaning on the bar next to him.

  “You gonna nurse that beer all night, or are you gonna let me buy you a drink?” The guy stood a little too close, his cologne filling Avery’s nose and sending a jolt of desire down his spine.

  Okay, so he’s sexy. Doesn’t change anything. “Who says I want you to buy me a drink?” Damned if that didn’t set off a spark in the man’s storm-gray eyes. So, he likes a challenge, huh? Well, that was all he was going to get from Avery.

  “Who doesn’t want someone to buy them a drink?” The guy pushed black frames farther up onto his nose, staring at Avery like he’d just said the stupidest fucking thing ever.

  “I didn’t say someone. I said you.” The guy’s eyes roamed over Avery’s face. He crowded in even closer and leaned one arm on the bar while the other hand gripped the back of the barstool Avery sat in. Avery wanted to kick himself for his lack of control as he glanced down the length of the guy’s slender body—from his bleached-blond hair and black glasses, down his long, lean torso, over colorful tattoos on his arms, until they landed on tight, ripped skinny jeans—and then slowly brought his gaze back up. But when his eyes settled on the overconfident smirk of the man caging him in, Avery asked, “How’d you get that big head through the door?”

  “Well damn.” The guy looked down and pushed his hips forward, along with an unmistakable bulge in his torn jeans. “It’s that obvious, huh? And I haven’t even shown it to you yet.” He wiggled his brows, one of them with a silver ring pierced through it, and Avery couldn’t help the laugh that slipped out.

  “That line ever work for you before?”

  “Nine times out of ten. You don’t want to be the odd man out, do you? You have to loosen those designer jeans at some point. Might as well have some fun doing it.” The man licked his lips, his eyes landing on Avery’s crotch, and damned if he could hide his body’s reaction.

  Avery looked forward, shrugging his shoulders. “Buy me that drink, and we’ll see what happens.”

  Too bad Avery was the only one who remembered what had happened after that. Hell, he didn’t even give a shit about that night. It wasn’t the first time it had ever gone down like that. Ryder hitting on him again like he’d never met him before, though? Yeah, that had pissed him off.

  Avery was well aware now of Ryder’s nail-it-and-bail-it motto. And while the guy was free to fuck as many people as he wanted, Avery couldn’t push aside the longing for something more. Tonight, he’d caught a glimpse of a man whose vulnerabilities made him so much more attractive. It was a damn shame Ryder locked that part of himself up the other three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.

  Ryder stared at the cracked ceiling as he lay on his bed, one hand tucked under his head. He didn’t know how he was supposed to get any sleep knowing Chris was out there alone. Thank fuck it wasn’t winter. At least he knew the kid wasn’t going to freeze. Maybe he’s not alone. Maybe he’s with his parents. Fuck, that thought only made it worse because Ryder had never met them; he didn’t even know if Chris had any.

  Ryder huffed, slammed his hand down on the mattress, and sat up. He couldn’t let it go. “Just once more around the block and on the boardwalk.” Hell, maybe he should check on the beach under the stairs.

  He stood up, grabbing the jeans he’d left on his floor and yanked them on. Next was the T-shirt he’d tossed on the end of his bed and then his glasses and sneakers. Quickly, he was out the door, walking the quiet streets around his complex. The area around the boardwalk was heavily lit; a feature the town had added when they’d rebuilt after Hurricane Sandy. The beach, however, had a few darker areas. Ryder checked under the stairs in a few spots along the boardwalk, cursing every time he came up empty.

  Ryder pulled out his phone and checked the time. Two
in the morning. Shit, if he didn’t get some sleep, he was going to fuck up a design at work. He made his way back down the boardwalk toward his place, scanning the quiet side streets as he went. When he finally reached his complex again, he hung his head in defeat.

  Slowly, he walked around the corner of one of the two buildings on his way to the courtyard. Glancing to the right for a second, he stopped in his tracks. Was the light always on in the laundry room at this time of night? Ryder peered down the dark stairs to the dirty window, looking for any signs of movement through the glass. His heart beat hard in his chest as hope flared.

  He stepped down the stairs slowly, making as little noise as possible. If Chris was down there, he didn’t want to scare him. When he reached the bottom of the steps, he carefully leaned closer to the glass—and his heart practically jumped out of his fucking chest. He’d never felt more relieved in his life that Chris was a smart kid. The only way into the laundry room in each building was a keycard. He’d obviously grabbed theirs before he’d fled. Thank fuck.

  “Shit,” Ryder whispered. “What do I do?” Not wanting to draw attention to himself if someone was coming home late, he quietly walked back up the steps. He hadn’t grabbed his wallet with his keycard on his way out, so the only way to get Chris’s attention was to knock. He didn’t want to scare the shit out of the kid, who was currently curled up with his head on his backpack, sound asleep. As fast as the thought crossed Ryder’s mind to have Chris stay with him, he quickly reminded himself that Chris was a minor, and Ryder had no right to offer him that. That was a road he most definitely didn’t want to trip down.

  Knowing Chris was relatively safe for the night, Ryder crossed the courtyard to his door, tiredly taking the stairs up to his place.After undressing again, he sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at his phone; his finger hovered over Avery’s number, now saved in his contacts. If he doesn’t have family, he’ll go into foster care.

  “Fuck,” Ryder growled in frustration. “How can I do that to him?” Ryder ran his fingers over the scorpion tattoo on his left forearm, feeling the raised cigarette-sized scars. There was no way in hell he could put Chris through that, but what other choice did he have? Still, the decision to turn the kid in was one Ryder couldn’t make tonight. No matter how much he knew he should, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not until he had some kind of game plan to help Chris out—if that even existed. He sure as hell wasn’t qualified to take care of a kid.