Ryder

by Diana Gardin

  And just as often as she’s wearing that bikini, she’s not wearing it. Not gonna lie, I’m a big fan of naked Frannie. In the kitchen, on the couch, or in our bedroom, I knew damn well there was a reason I gave her the nickname Pistol Annie. She’s a little pistol in and out of bed, and keeping up with her is becoming my sole reason for breathing.

  I’ve just peeled her bathing suit off her and sat her on the bathroom counter, checking her stitches to make sure they’ve healed the way Dr. Hughes said they would. She no longer needs the bandage, and the puckered skin beneath her ribs looks healthier every day. The shower water runs behind me, making the bathroom fill with clouds of vapor that leaves slippery droplets on her naked skin.

  Pulling back, I drink her in. She stares right back, blue eyes hooded with the lust I’ve learned to read on her expression like lines in a script. Reaching up, I pull the elastic band out of her hair, bringing the blond-and-pink strands cascading down around her shoulders. She doesn’t move, leaning back against the mirror, her eyebrows lifting in a challenge.

  A dark chuckle breaks free from my lips. “What do you want, sweetheart? You know you drive me insane.” I glance down, the obvious erection tenting my swim trunks making itself known.

  Her small hands push the waistband of my shorts until I’m exposed, my dick springing free and straining toward her, long and thick and hard.

  “Just you,” she whispers, staring at the drizzle of moisture dampening the tip. “I want you, Ryder. I trust you.”

  Her words do something to me, pulling a groan from deep inside me. Pulling the tangled vines of emotion inside my heart, the ones I buried a long time ago, right to the surface. Making me unafraid.

  “I love you,” I tell her, seriously.

  A smile tugs on her lips. Genuine emotion swims in her gaze. “Be patient with me.”

  “Always.”

  Leaning my forehead against hers and gripping the back of her neck with one hand, I drag two fingers between her legs. Humming in my throat, I push inside her. “So fucking wet for me, baby. So goddamn hot.”

  Her voice is breathless. “Only for you, Ryder. You know that, right?”

  Pulling my fingers out slowly, I press my thumb against her clit. She whimpers. “Say it again.”

  Frannie’s lashes flutter as her eyes drop closed. “I’m yours, Thorn. Only yours.”

  Those words…those fucking words.

  “Wrap your legs around me.” The words are no more than a growl as I grip her tightly in my arms and walk toward the shower. Stepping inside the steaming sauna, I sit on the bench and set Frannie down on top of me.

  The sound of the water mingles with our moans as it becomes the best shower of my entire fucking life.

  Our bed has become our favorite place in the condo. I’m stroking her hair as her small fingers dance across my bare chest, silence settling around us as the room grows dark with the night.

  “Not sure what we’re gonna do when this is all over. All we do is fuck, chill by the pool, and lie in bed. Real life is coming soon, sweetheart.” There’s a smile in my voice, but Frannie’s silent. Her fingers still.

  “Hey.” I glance down at her, trying to read her expression in the dark. “What’s going on?”

  “What’s your place like? And where is it?”

  I shrug. “Nothing fancy. I own a loft near NES. Studio. I bought it because it’s close to work and the beach. It’s a drive when I go volunteer with the kids, but that’s okay. I like being close to the water.”

  Frannie’s face falls. “My apartment is on the other side of town. And it’s not very big, either. Just a two-bedroom.”

  A slow grin almost splits my face in two. “I know, I met you outside of that apartment. Are you saying you like our living arrangement so much right now, you want to continue it when we get out of here?”

  Her expression goes shy. “I’m not sure if you’re going to want that. Let’s wait and see.”

  Confusion clouds my brain. “Nothing’s gonna change how I feel about you between now and then. We can get a place together. Something that’s right for just the two of us. Yeah?”

  Her expression falls again. “I—”

  My phone vibrates on the side table. I reach for it. “Hold that thought, sweetheart.”

  Glancing at the screen, I frown and sit up. My chest tightens as I swipe across to answer the call. “Nevaeh? What’s going on, honey?”

  The young girl’s voice on the other end of the phone sounds terrified. “Mr. Ryder? He—he’s back.”

  Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I put the phone on speaker so that Frannie can hear. I don’t want to have to explain it to her when I end the call. “Where are you, Nevaeh?”

  Her voice sounds muffled, quietly horrified. She hiccups, like she’s been crying. “I’m in my closet, like you told me to do. I have the phone that you gave me. H-he doesn’t know that I’m here yet. But my mom…” She hiccups. In the background, I can hear a man’s voice shouting, and then a woman’s voice replying in kind.

  Frannie’s quiet gasp and “Oh my God” have me glancing at her with a grim expression.

  “Nevaeh, listen to me. You did good. Very good. I want you to hang up with me and call 911. And I promise you I’m on my way. Don’t come out of the closet. Don’t make a sound. And if he comes for you before I get there, do exactly what he says. I’m coming, honey. It’s going to be okay.”

  I end the call and pull on my jeans. I immediately dial Bain.

  “Need you to get over here now and stay with Frannie. I have a situation with one of my kids that can’t wait.”

  Bain grunts and ends the call, which lets me know he’s on his way.

  I turn to Frannie, who’s staring at me with wide eyes, her hands to her mouth. “I’d take you with me if it weren’t for the fucking Eli situation. As it is, I’m not bringing you into another dangerous situation. Nevaeh’s old man is an abuser, and he’s apparently just gotten out of jail for the third time. He hits her mother, and sometimes her too. When he’s drunk, he’s a mean asshole. I’m going over there. There’s a chance her mom’s high on something, and I have no idea what I’m walking into.”

  I place my Glock into my holster and pull my shirt on over it. Placing a kiss on Frannie’s forehead, I look her in the eye. “Don’t move a muscle until Bain gets here, you hear me?”

  She nods. “Please help her, Ryder. I feel for that girl. Get her out of there.”

  My expression is grim. “This time, I think that’s going to be the only thing I can do.”

  Grabbing one of Frannie’s guns from where we placed them in the kitchen drawer that first day, I put it on the nightstand beside her. She grins at me. I smile back at her. “You won’t need that. Bain’s coming. But I know you like to be armed.”

  I kiss her hard on the lips before turning and walking out of the bedroom and onto the elevator. I’m in the BMW and driving toward the wrong side of town, trying not to let the memories of a similar phone call nine years ago mess with my head.

  It’s not the same. It’s not the same.

  Nevaeh is not Echo. Nevaeh isn’t spiraling out of control. She called me for help because she wants it, not because she wanted to see if I would still come running when she needed me. I’ve known about Nevaeh’s situation for a while. There just hasn’t been anything I could do, because she isn’t yet a ward of the state. Her mother and father still have parental rights, somehow. But I know that this time, this incident, as long as she calls 911 the way I instructed her to, will get her removed from the home.

  And that’s what I’ve been waiting for.

  On the way to her house, I call Lawson on Bluetooth.

  “What’s up, man? If you’re calling about Ward—”

  I cut him off. “I’m not. Not right now, anyway.”

  Lawson goes quiet.

  “I need a favor.”

  Lawson must hear something in my voice, because his answer is immediate. “Name it.”

  “Call yo
ur sister for me? One of the kids I work with at the club is having domestic issues with her parents. I think she’s about to get removed from the home. I’ve already had paperwork done so I can become her foster parent. But I can’t take her with me right now because of everything that’s going on with Frannie. Do you think Lilliana can find a place for her to go tonight?”

  Lawson’s sister runs a nonprofit agency for battered women who are running away from abusive husbands; it’s called the Underground. She’s actually the one who helped Frannie when she first arrived in North Carolina, although none of us knew it when Frannie first met Lawson and Indigo.

  There’s a smile in Lawson’s voice when he answers. “If Indy and I weren’t hot on Ward’s trail right this minute, we’d take her ourselves until this mess was all over. Meantime, I’ll send Lilliana with the social worker she knows. They’ll get your girl all straightened out. You on your way there now? The little girl gonna be all right?”

  I expel a breath as I blow through a yellow light, entering the rougher side of town. “God, I fucking hope so, Sleuth. I’m scared. And I left Frannie with Bain, which I don’t exactly feel good about either.”

  Lawson’s voice is calming, like it always is. “Bain’s got your girl. She is your girl now, right?”

  I don’t say a fucking word.

  Lawson chuckles. “Yeah. Thought so. We all saw it that day at the house. Bull’s-Eye will keep her safe for you while you go handle your business. And Lilliana will meet you there. Text me the address when we get off here.”

  “Will do. Thanks, Sleuth.”

  We disconnect the call, and five minutes later, I’m turning onto the block where Nevaeh lives. It’s a neighborhood of run-down town houses, mostly rentals, cars taking up spaces in the lots on both sides of the street. The front door at Nevaeh’s house is wide open, and there’s no sign of police yet.

  Leaving the BMW parked by the curb instead of in a parking spot, I draw my Glock and jog to the door, sticking close to the front of the house. All the lights are blazing, and I can hear Nevaeh’s drunk father yelling as I walk into the home.

  Kitchen.

  Stealthily bypassing the two adults yelling in the direction of the kitchen, the sound of breaking glass raising the hairs on the back of my neck, I move silently up the stairs. Nevaeh’s described the house to me enough times that I have the layout memorized, even though I’ve never been here. Going directly to her room at the end of the hall, I whisper her name instead of turning on the lights.

  “Nevaeh. It’s me, honey. I’m coming to the closet. Don’t be afraid…I’m getting you out.”

  I’m two steps away from the closet door when it’s flung open and she hurtles out of the darkness and into my arms. Moonlight from the window streams onto her face, shining a spotlight on her fear.

  Quiet sobs rack Nevaeh, and I just hold her close to my chest. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

  I smooth her hair, then lean down to look in her face. “You hurt?”

  She shakes her head, almost frantic. Another scream erupts from downstairs, and the sound of furniture being knocked over.

  Shit. She’s been sitting in that closet, listening to this for half an hour.

  The unmistakable sound of a fist hitting skin, and a woman’s cry. Nevaeh looks up at me, terror bleeding into her expression. I place a finger to my lips, even though fury threatens to explode my chest.

  We’re leaving, I mouth silently.

  She nods. I push her behind me and we walk quietly down the darkened hallway until we reach the stairs. The sound of sirens outside alerts us to the fact that the police have finally arrived. Relief floods me, but I still have to get this girl out of the house before—

  A gunshot rings through the house. The sound of a body slumping to the floor. Behind me, Nevaeh’s high-pitched scream rings in my ears.

  Turning, I grab her and pick her up, holding her against my chest. Neither of us saw what happened, but we both know.

  Her father just shot her mother.

  We’re halfway down the stairs when two things happen simultaneously. Her father comes stumbling out of the kitchen, a shotgun propped in his hands. And two police officers burst through the front door, screaming at him to put the weapon down.

  Instead of doing that, the drunken coward raises that shotgun.

  I whirl with Nevaeh in my arms and turn toward the top of the stairs. Another gunshot rings out, and I hope to God one of the officers was able to bring him down without a fatal shot, before he brought that shotgun to his own head.

  19

  FRANNIE

  When the elevator doors slide open to reveal Bain’s presence, I’ve been pacing the wood floor in the wide-open main room for what feels like forever. But in all honesty, Bain arrived at the penthouse so quickly, he must have already been in the vicinity.

  I stop midpace. “Have you heard from him?”

  Bain steps into the penthouse, his crystal blue eyes seeming to assess everything at once. The last thing they land on is me. Finally, he answers my question. “No.”

  Covering my face with my palms, I scream into my fingers. “This is so frustrating! What if he’s not okay? What if Nevaeh’s hurt? What if—”

  Bain stalks toward me, placing both hands on my shoulders, and stops me cold. I’m so shocked by his touch that I freeze on impact. He stares at me, his expression firm. “In our business, we don’t deal in what-ifs. The White Wolf is a trained killer. Do you understand what that means? It means he didn’t walk into that situation without being completely prepared to walk out of it with that girl in his arms. Alive and well.”

  Those are the words I needed to hear. The first deep breath I’ve taken since those elevator doors slid closed on Ryder enters and exits my lungs.

  “Thank you,” I say quietly.

  Without another word, Bain releases me and walks away, going to stand in front of the bookcase beside the fireplace. I watch as he selects a book from the third shelf, then sits down in an armchair that neither Ryder nor I has ever sat in and opens it up to the first page.

  He begins to read.

  Huh. So Bain is a reader. Wouldn’t have guessed that one.

  I pause by the dining table, planting my fists against my hips. “So you’re just going to sit there and read?”

  Bain doesn’t even glance up. “Reading is how I pass the time. Quiet. Allows me to listen. Which is a big part of protection detail.”

  I stalk to the bar and grab my phone from where I left it the last time I checked it, right before Bain walked in. Still no call or text from Ryder. My Photos icon catches my eye, and I click on it. The first photo that comes up in my camera roll is the selfie that Ryder and I took today sitting on a lounger together at the pool. I was between his legs, and we were both wearing sunglasses. The plant of his lips on my cheek, his chiseled cheekbones, and the big smile on my face give us the illusion of being any normal, happy couple.

  Emotion, raw and real, stabs at my heart.

  I want that. I want this life with him.

  Whatever happens when this is all over, I know that I want to move forward in a life with Ryder. He loves me. And even though I haven’t said the words yet, I know I love him. The only reason I haven’t told him is because I know it wouldn’t be fair to tell him that truth when I’m still keeping the most important part of my life from him.

  My daughter.

  But that’s all going to change. Soon.

  What if he doesn’t want a daughter? What if he isn’t ready for kids?

  The nagging voice in the back of my head pokes a finger at me, shoving doubts into my consciousness.

  But if I want a life with him, I have to go for it. All I can do is put myself out there and try. Dove is amazing…who could resist her?

  The chime that announces the arrival of a visitor from the lobby sounds through the penthouse. I shoot toward the elevator, but Bain moves faster than I thought possible, blocking my forward motion and bodily moving
me into the hallway leading toward the bedroom.

  “Stay. Here,” he growls. “We’re not expecting anyone.”

  “But it might be Ry—” My voice trails away as I realize too late how ridiculous I sound.

  Immediately, I whirl on my heel and walk to the bedroom. Listening as Bain asks who our visitor is over the smart intercom system, I pull my pistol from the nightstand and carry it with me back out into the hallway.

  By time I make it there, pistol gripped in both hands and ready to use if needed, the elevator door is sliding open.

  Lawson and Indigo walk into the penthouse and take one look at me with my gun aimed at the floor by my side. Indigo gives me a huge grin and a thumbs-up, and Lawson lifts his chin in approval. “I’m assuming Thorn knows about this?” He gestures toward my gun.

  I nod, glancing at it. “He made me put them both away at first.”

  Bain turns toward me, eyes my gun, and an incredulous expression crosses his face before irritation quickly follows.

  “You know I’m here to protect you, right?”

  I raise my chin an inch. “I protect myself.”

  Lawson chuckles.

  Bain rolls his eyes. Indigo jabs her elbow into Lawson’s ribs. I turn and walk back down the hallway to put my gun away.

  When I return, Russ has appeared from the elevator just before the doors slide closed.

  Bain scowls. “What’s he doing here?”

  Lawson glances behind him. “Jacob knows he’s here. We had a breakthrough in the Ward case—”

  Russ interrupts, stepping forward and glancing around the penthouse. “The Ward case you aren’t actually supposed to be working, you mean.”

  Indigo puts her hand on Russ’s shoulder. “Russ, please. You know how good Lawson is at this stuff. You said you’d keep an open mind.”

  Lawson shoots both Bain and I a look before heading for the couch. “Let’s sit. I have some things to say. Bull’s-Eye, you can fill Wolf in when he gets back.”

  Bain nods, moving back to his chair. I notice his eyes don’t leave Russ, though.