Guts & Glory: Ryder (In the Shadows Security Book 2)

by Jeanne St. James

When she struggled to get the thin mylar blanket around her, he lost his patience and helped her, doing his best not to touch her. He was done touching her. It was bad enough when he had to carry her naked ass out of that hell hole and toss her into his truck.

  Until she showered in Lysol or bleach, he wasn’t taking any further risks. He wasn’t getting hazard pay for this job.

  In fact, his ass might get fired with what he had planned. Once they got to the cabin, he’d call Diesel and tell him the details. Until then, he was putting a few hundred miles between him and D’s massive fists.

  “Get in the truck,” he muttered once she got to her feet.

  Watching her wobble back and forth a couple of times made him realize she wouldn’t be able to get her ass in his truck under her own power.

  Fuck.

  Holding his breath so he didn’t have to inhale her stink, he bent at the knees and picked her up before planting her now covered ass back in the passenger seat. He latched the seatbelt back around her, then tossed the bottle of water in her lap and held out his hand with three aspirins.

  “Take these, drink that and shut the fuck up for the next few hours.”

  Before she could respond, he slammed the door shut and jogged around the front of his Scout and climbed back in.

  He waited until she downed the aspirins and chugged a good amount of water before turning the key and coaxing his baby into first gear.

  Within five minutes, her head was back resting against the passenger side window and she was asleep.

  With a sigh, he found a country station and turned that shit up until he could no longer hear her godawful snoring. He might as well be in an underground den with a hibernating Grizzly as loud as she was.

  For fuck’s sake, he wished he was back dodging IEDs and taking out suicide bombers in Afghanistan instead of dealing with Kelsea Dougherty.

  Fuck my life.

  Chapter Two

  Kelsea winced and gasped as the corner of her forehead bounced off something hard once again.

  Damn, that was going to leave a mark.

  Forcing her eyes open, she winced again when the light hit them. She realized she was leaning against a window and it had to be in a car since she could see pavement flying by.

  She lifted a hand to the back of her stiff neck, and she was having a hard time lifting her head. She must have been in this position for a long time.

  She tipped her eyes down to assess her person. Why was she wearing a silver tarp-like thingy? And naked underneath that?

  And in a vehicle?

  And, more importantly, who the hell was singing Garth Brooks? She hated country music.

  Whoever it was, was making her head throb even harder. Friends in Low Places was blaring out of the vehicle’s speakers and the deep voice singing along was...

  Honestly, not bad. For an amateur.

  If you liked country.

  Which she didn’t.

  She pushed through the pain and forced herself to sit upright, biting back a groan when she twisted to see who the singer was.

  When she did, the groan slipped out of her anyway.

  Fuck!

  Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  She turned down the radio volume until all she could hear was Ryder’s deep voice filling the interior of the Scout. He ignored her and kept singing.

  “Again?” she asked. She should be embarrassed for being in this situation again, but she wasn’t.

  Her question stopped his crooning. His chest lifted as he took a deep inhale and without looking at her, said, “Shouldn’t I be the one askin’ that?”

  She steeled herself against the warmth that rushed through her every time she heard his slight southern accent.

  She pulled the edges of the silver space blanket, or whatever it was, tighter around her. “Where are my clothes? Why didn’t you grab them?”

  “You care about your missin’ clothes? For fuck’s sake, how about your dignity? That’s missin’, too. You should be more worried about that.”

  Once again, she did something stupid, forcing her cousin to send one of his crew out to find her.

  She’d been on a roll lately. But no matter how many times Ryder had dragged her out of a mess, she just kept stepping right back into the next one.

  She closed her eyes, willing the thumping of her brain to stop, but when he hit a pothole and cursed, she opened them.

  She swore it was the middle of the night the last time she was conscious. Now it wasn’t. The early morning sun made her squint as she paid attention to the passing landscape.

  “Where are we? This doesn’t look like Pennsylvania.”

  “How the fuck would you know the difference between PA and any other fuckin’ state? Trees and mountains are everywhere.”

  “I’d know.”

  Did he just snort?

  Whatever.

  “How soon ‘til we get home?”

  When he didn’t answer, she turned to study his profile. His jaw was tight, and his fingers had a death grip on the steering wheel.

  “It only takes about an hour for us to get from the Demons’ church to Shadow Valley. We’ve been in the car for more than an hour and this isn’t Shadow Valley.”

  He kept his eye on the road and ignored her.

  “Ryder. Where are we? Where are you taking me?” She was trying not to panic and tried to keep it out of her voice, but she wasn’t being successful. “You better not be taking me anywhere I don’t want to go.”

  “Like where? Work? Home to your family? Back to your mother’s? Where don’t you wanna go?”

  “Rehab.”

  His head jerked, but he still didn’t look at her.

  “Please don’t take me to rehab,” she whispered, gripping the edges of the blanket tighter.

  “You don’t need rehab. You need fuckin’ common sense. The little you had is now non-existent. It’s a damn shame, darlin’, you’re destroyin’ your life. And it was a good one.”

  It was a good one.

  That was debatable.

  For some, growing up in a motorcycle club was a good life. For others, like her, not so much.

  Especially when her mother lied to her her whole life. And it wasn’t a little lie, it was a big one. One she still wished she didn’t know about. She wished she could go back and unlearn the truth.

  When she opened her mouth, he lifted a hand to stop her. “Not now. We’re not talkin’ about this shit now. Not when I’m drivin’. ‘Cause this shit just pisses me off and I’m tryin’ to get us there in one piece.”

  “There where?” A sign caught her eye as he sped by it. “Did that say Kentucky?” She glanced around the vehicle, searching the floor, the seat, the dashboard, the backseat, the center console. “Where’s my phone?”

  “Probably with your clothes.”

  “I need my phone. I need to talk to Diesel.”

  “That’s not happenin’ any time soon.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You can’t keep me from him. He’s your boss.”

  “And he’s your cousin who’s really pissed off right now. Not smart to call him, Kelsea.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going to Kentucky.”

  “Too late.”

  “Ryder,” she shouted, but winced when her headache intensified. “What’s in Kentucky? Why are we in Kentucky?”

  “We’re here to do a little searchin’.”

  “Searching for what?”

  “Your soul. Your dignity. Your common sense. Pick one. That shit I saw back there in that room, in that bed... Me havin’ to come find your ass again to get you out of a jam...” He finally turned his head to look at her.

  And suddenly she wished he hadn’t.

  His green eyes bore into her, maybe searching for her soul that he claimed was missing. “All that shit is over, darlin’. It ends now.”

  Kelsea stared at the structure Ryder pulled up to. He put his Scout in first gear, set the emergency brake and shut off the truck.

  “What is this place?
” she whispered.

  “This is your second chance, darlin’. ‘Cause if this doesn’t work, then I’m throwin’ my hands up and I’ll make sure D does, too. He’s as pissed off as I am. No, more so. Everyone told him that you needed to bottom the fuck out. And what I saw? That was rock bottom. I have no idea what drugs you did or how much booze you drank, but that’s no excuse for bein’ a slutty skank.”

  Kelsea cringed at his words.

  “I’d fuck Tequila before I’d fuck you.”

  Damn. He hit her with a one-two punch. Tequila was the sluttiest of the sweet butts that hung around the Dirty Angels’ clubhouse. That club whore would put out to any of the brothers with just a crook of a finger.

  Well, fuck him and his perfect ass. Like he’d always been a saint. Right. Diesel’s Shadows were all former special forces military men who’d done things that were probably not legal. Not only during their years of service, but also while working for In the Shadows Security.

  She shook off the sting of his words and turned to face him. “What is this place?”

  He faced her. “What does it look like?”

  She glanced out of the windshield again. It was a cabin in the woods on a mountain. Not just any cabin. A nice one that appeared rustic but probably had all the modern conveniences of home. Or at least she hoped so.

  Because she had a feeling this was their final destination.

  “Is this yours?”

  He pushed open the door and got out, answering, “Yup,” before slamming the driver’s door shut.

  She blinked and let what was happening sink in. And once it hit the pit of her gut, it all exploded back up like a geyser.

  “Fuck!” she screamed into the empty interior of the Scout. “Fuck you, Ryder! Fuck you! Fuck my cousin, too! Fuck all of you! My mother. My goddamn father. Everyone! Fuck you all!”

  The passenger door flew open and he stood there, hands on his hips. “Think I couldn’t hear that?”

  “I don’t care.”

  “You might.”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Get the fuck out of the truck.”

  “You can’t hold me captive here. D will kill you.”

  “I was told to handle it. He’s got too much shit on his plate right now with his baby girls and everything else, so I’m handlin’ it. And, darlin’, I’m tellin’ you now, this is the last fuckin’ time I’m handlin’ it. I’m gonna make sure of that.”

  “Don’t call me darlin’.”

  “Okay, darlin’.” And then the fucker winked at her. He stepped back from the Scout. “Get out of the truck.”

  “If I don’t?”

  He shrugged and slammed the door shut again. She watched in surprise as he turned on his heels, went to the back of his Scout, snagged a large duffel bag, slammed that door and headed up the steps to the front deck of the cabin. He dug keys out of his pocket, unlocked the cabin’s front door, threw his duffel inside, followed it, and slammed that door shut, too.

  Kelsea finally took a breath. She let it out slowly.

  She had no phone.

  She had no clothes.

  She had no idea where the hell she was besides at a cabin on the side of a mountain in Bumfuck, Kentucky.

  She doubted there were neighbors.

  She glanced around. All she could see were trees and another building behind the cabin. A large structure with double doors like were found on a barn.

  That was it.

  She dropped her head back and screamed “Fuck!” once more.

  Ryder glanced at his watch as he heard the front door open slowly.

  For two whole motherfucking hours she sat out in his Scout. Naked, wrapped in a mylar blanket and stubborn as fuck.

  He shook his head.

  He wasn’t looking forward to this. But he also was serious when he said this was the last time he was getting her ass out of a jam.

  Last night was also the last time he was retrieving her like a lost fucking puppy.

  And that was the first and last time he was going to see her naked on some stained mattress on a floor in some shit hole with another bitch’s fingers shoved up her snatch and tongue down her throat.

  He ground his teeth. It would be a long time before that vision was wiped from his memory.

  At least he hadn’t walked in while Slash’s unwrapped dick was in her. Then there might have been bloodshed.

  He took a couple deep breaths to lower his blood pressure but as the door closed quietly behind him, he gave up on that.

  He might regret this idea. He might regret every fucking minute being alone in this cabin with her. However, he’d set his plan in motion and he wasn’t a quitter. He was sticking to it, even if it killed him.

  By stroke. Heart attack. Or she slit his throat with his own tactical knife in his sleep.

  This might be his last job as a Shadow. But, damn it, he was going to give it his all.

  The rustle of the emergency blanket had him glancing over his shoulder where she still stood by the front door. Hell, the only door in the cabin.

  The place wasn’t anything fancy and had an open floor plan with the kitchen leading into the living area and a bed tucked into one of the far corners. He’d built a tiny addition on the back years ago, so he’d have an indoor bathroom instead of an outhouse, and for some much-needed storage. But other than that, the cabin was basic.

  A wood stove and a propane tank provided heat in the winter. There wasn’t A/C for hot summer days, though being tucked in the shade of the surrounding trees helped keep the cabin cool. And as long as the wind wasn’t blowing too hard, it had electricity.

  He stopped stirring the chili on the stove when he saw her red, puffy eyes. They weren’t like that earlier, so he knew it wasn’t from her drug and alcohol-induced hangover.

  “You been cryin’?”

  “No.”

  He shook his head and turned down the gas burner so the chili he threw together could simmer.

  Now all he needed was some really good cornbread to go along with their dinner later. He might have a boxed mix in one of the cabinets. He’d have to look, but right now he had something more pressing to deal with.

  He turned to face her, letting his gaze rake down her dirty, tear-stained face, over her matted hair, and her attempt to cover up her nakedness with the blanket. Even covered in something so shapeless, she couldn’t hide her curves.

  He sucked at his teeth. “Think I’m stupid?”

  Her pretty blue eyes, now red-rimmed, lifted and met his. “No.”

  “Then why the fuck would you lie when I asked you a question?”

  “If it’s so fucking obvious, then why would you ask it?”

  He struggled to keep himself where he was, to keep himself from taking long strides over to her and shaking the shit out of her.

  Someone needed to knock the common sense back into her head. Since no one else had been successful, it was now on his shoulders.

  Her sister, Brooke, had tried. Brooke’s ol’ man, Dex, had tried. Hell, even Diesel had had one too many conversations with the woman who stood before him currently looking defeated.

  “Every time you lie to me, there will be consequences.”

  Her chin lifted and her stubbornness returned. “I’m not a child.”

  “Then stop actin’ like one. When you act like an adult, I’ll treat you like one. Deal?”

  She glared at him. Jesus, he wanted to drag her over his lap and spank her until she found a new attitude. But right now, he still didn’t want to touch her.

  He pointed toward the back of the cabin. “Go shower. Once you wash that stank and skank off you, come back out here with a better attitude. Make sure that shitty one goes down the drain. Make sure you scrub that motherfucker Slash off you, too. Hope you always used a wrap with him, darlin’.”

  “That’s none of your fucking—”

  “Right,” he cut her off. “Don’t need the details. Go shower.”

  “I have nothing to wear.”

/>   “I’ll find somethin’ you can wear for now.”

  She continued to stand there, staring at him. What the fuck.

  “Shower. Now. Before I drag you into the bathroom by your hair. There’s a bar of pumice soap by the sink. Use that to scrub yourself inside and out.”

  “That’s not even funny.”

  “You hear me laughin’?”

  “Whatever,” she grumbled.

  He had to set his jaw and take a step back so he wouldn’t reach out to set her straight.

  He watched her shuffle toward the bathroom with the emergency blanket dragging on the floor behind her since it was too big.

  When the bathroom door finally slammed shut, he stepped up to the kitchen sink, planted his hands on the edge and stared out of the window that overlooked the dirt lane cutting through the woods.

  He needed to go check the outbuilding to make sure there wasn’t any damage since he hadn’t been here in months. He also needed to check the propane tank level to make sure they had enough to last them, since it was used for not only hot water but the stove.

  By the time he got done doing that, she should be out of the shower and he’d be ready to tell her what her life would be like for the next week or so. Or however long it took for her to pull her head out of her ass.

  She wouldn’t like it. She may even have a tantrum. But he didn’t give a fuck.

  He hated pulling her ass out of questionable situations time after time.

  He. Was. Done.

  He tilted his head and listened to make sure the shower was running before pushing away from the sink and heading out the front door.

  When he came back fifteen minutes later, he expected to see her moping around the cabin in one of his T-shirts or something.

  She wasn’t.

  In fact, the bathroom door was still closed and the shower still running.

  Jesus fuckin’ Christ. He should’ve given her a damn time limit on the shower. This wasn’t a spa. He had a small well and limited propane, for fuck’s sake.

  He rushed over to the door and knocked on it.

  After a second without an answer, he pressed his ear to the door and knocked again.

  No answer. Son of a bitch.

  “Kelsea, only got so much hot water and you’re gonna empty my propane tank.” And I’d like to shower at some point myself. “If you don’t shut that shower off, I’m comin’ in and shuttin’ it down whether you’re done or not. This ain’t some lady spa.”