The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "She's very self-conscious."

  "Uh—"

  "So don't say anything. Just pretend you enjoy it."

  "What?" Maybe the question came out louder than he planned it to because Ninja kicked him under the table. Ryder ignored him, his gaze focused on Allison—on the brows pulled low over her eyes and the slight purse of her lips as she frowned at him. She leaned closer and lowered her voice.

  "That's what everyone else does."

  Ryder blinked, raised one hand and rubbed his knuckles against his mouth. Looked around to see whose ass he needed to kick.

  Finally realized that no way in hell was Allison talking about what he thought she was talking about. At least, he hoped to hell she wasn't.

  "You, uh, want to clue me in here?"

  "About what?"

  "About whatever the hell you're talking about. What does everyone pretend they're enjoying?"

  "Hannah's cooking. What did you think I was talking about?"

  Her cooking. Yeah. Of course.

  Ryder looked down at the plate filled with unappetizing food and had to force himself not to push it away. "This isn't cooking."

  Allison laughed, the sound whisper-soft. "No kidding. Welcome to my hell for the last six months. But don't say anything because Hannah's self-conscious about it. Just eat it as fast as you can—you don't really taste it much that way." She forked a small bit of fish into her mouth, chewed once, and swallowed. "See?"

  "It's not that bad."

  Ryder shot a disbelieving look at Ninja. "Are you for real?"

  "Compared to other things I've had to eat? Yeah, I'm for real."

  The man had a point. And while Ryder hadn't expected a gourmet meal—hell, he hadn't expected any meal—the chewy fish and soggy rice were a far cry from what he'd call edible.

  He forced himself to eat a few more bites then placed the fork down. "Does Hannah cook every night?"

  "No, everyone takes turns. You guys will, too, if you stay past Monday."

  "Yeah, not happening." The cooking or staying. His gaze drifted to the other two tables a few feet away. Hannah was sitting at the furthest one, along with the elderly couple—and the weasel. "So what's that guy's story?"

  Allison took a long swallow from her water bottle, capped the lid, then followed the direction of his gaze. "You mean Kevin?"

  "Yeah. The weasel."

  "Don't be an ass. He's the project coordinator."

  "Anything going on with him and Hannah?" Ryder tried to infuse his voice with nonchalant curiosity. From the knowing look Allison shot his way, he had failed miserably.

  "No, not like you're thinking. She acts more or less like his assistant."

  "Assistant? I thought you said you guys were volunteering."

  "We are, for the most part. But we're part of the organization so there's a small stipend."

  There was something about the way she said it that made Ryder's brows shoot up. "How small?"

  "Um—" Allison shifted in the chair, her gaze focused on the plate of food in front of her as she mumbled her answer. Ryder leaned closer.

  "What was that?"

  "I said a few hundred."

  "A week?"

  "Um, no. A month."

  "A month."

  "Yes, a month. But we don't have any expenses—at least, not many, just anything personal we might need while we're here so I'm able to save all of it."

  "Christ." Ryder shook his head, glanced at the people sitting at the other tables and swallowed back a curse. "So everyone here works for the same organization?"

  "No, we're the only staff. Kevin, Hannah, and me. Everyone else has paid to come here to help out."

  "Wait. What do you mean, paid? They're not volunteers?"

  "No, they are. But they pay to come here. It helps cover the cost of materials and food and other expenses." Allison nodded toward the table where Hannah was. "The Millers came down for four weeks with their granddaughter, Katie. She's the younger girl at the other table. They're retired and go on a few volunteer trips each year. Next week is their last week here."

  Allison paused long enough to take a few more bites of food. She washed it down with more water then nodded toward the second table. "This is the first time for the two women. Cindy Mitchell and Darla Brooks. They only came for a week and leave on Saturday. I, uh, I don't think this is exactly what they were expecting."

  "Yeah, can't imagine why." Ryder looked over at Ninja, frowned at the man's empty plate, then pushed his own toward him. Hell, if Ninja could choke the food down, then he might as well have Ryder's, too.

  "So what about Casanova? What's his story?"

  "Who?" Allison looked over, frowned then sat back in the chair. "Oh, you mean Tim Keaton. I'm not really sure what his story is. He's been here for a little more than a month already and he's staying until we head home for the holidays. I think he comes from money or something."

  Ryder grunted. "More dollars than sense, then."

  Allison smacked his arm. "You know, you don't have to be so cynical all the time."

  "How the hell was that cynical?"

  "It was the way you said it. So what if he flirts with everyone? He isn't afraid to work and right now, we're really short on help so stop being such an ass."

  "Why the hell are you getting so upset?"

  "Because of you and your attitude." Allison pushed her chair away from the table and grabbed her plate. "There's more to saving the world than killing the bad guys, you know."

  Ryder watched in surprise as his sister walked away. He turned to Ninja, who looked just as surprised as he did. "What the fuck did I say wrong?"

  "No idea." Ninja motioned to the plate Ryder had pushed his way. "You sure you don't want the rest of this?"

  "Yeah. Positive." Ryder tossed his napkin down and pushed away from the table. "I'm going back to our room. Hut. Bungalow. Whatever the fuck they're calling it. Do me a favor and find out what we're supposed to be doing tomorrow."

  "You still planning on staying?"

  Ryder clenched his jaw, shot a look at the people gathered around the other two tables, laughing and talking. At his sister, her shoulders rigid as she worked on cleaning up the night's meal.

  At Hannah, whose gaze moved from Allison to him. She tilted her head to the side and frowned, concern mixing with censure in her warm eyes.

  Ryder pulled his gaze from hers and stood. "Yeah, we're still staying."

  For now.

  But he didn't say that out loud. From the look Ninja gave him, he didn't have to.

  Chapter Five

  Kevin was monopolizing the conversation—again. Excitement laced his accented voice as he regaled the table with a story from a trip he'd taken last year to Egypt. The Millers seemed genuinely interested, leaning forward to absorb every single word coming from the man's mouth.

  To Hannah, the words were nothing more than a low drone. Annoying background noise that created a ringing in her ears and a dull throbbing at the base of her skull. She didn't care about Kevin's stories, thought they were probably just that: stories. Carefully constructed tales woven to paint a picture of an adventurer. A seasoned world-traveler. An experienced humanitarian who had seen it all and done it all.

  His leg brushed hers under the table, a touch that was probably anything but accidental. She moved her leg and shifted away but didn't bother looking at him, staring instead at the spot where Ryder had disappeared into the darkness only a few minutes ago.

  She hadn't missed the tension in the set of his broad shoulders or the way the muscle jumped in his clenched jaw. Similar tension tightened Allison's shoulders as she worked on cleaning up the kitchen area. Had the two argued about something?

  Possibly, although Hannah hadn't heard any raised voices. She hadn't heard anything, period, mostly because Kevin's accented voice drowned out everything else. Like right now, when he was leaning toward her, his leg once again nudging hers under the table.

  She turned toward him, frowned, then pushed away fro
m the table. "Excuse me, I just remembered something I have to do."

  She didn't, of course. It was nothing more than a weak excuse to escape—and do something that would probably rank right up there as one of the stupidest things she'd ever done. Mr. Miller slowly rose to his feet, a gesture of manners from bygone days. Kevin simply sputtered his objections. Hannah almost laughed at the surprised dismay on his face as she walked away—almost. She simply didn't have the patience to deal with his self-absorption, not anymore. Not for the last few months.

  She paused a few feet outside the pavilion, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness. Nighttime was so absolute here, the darkness unmarred by the light pollution she had never really noticed back home—not until coming down here. For the most part, she was used to the darkness now, knew the layout of their small compound well enough to walk it blindfolded if she needed to.

  Not that they didn't have lights—they did. Cindy and Darla had left the small light in their bungalow on every single night since their arrival. Not just until they retired, but all night, even when they were asleep. Probably during the day as well, even though they'd been asked not to.

  Would the soft glow of the light from their bungalow serve as a point of reference for Ryder? Would he even need it, or was he able to maneuver through the dark without assistance? Hannah thought he probably could, that he would have been trained to move in the dark to do...well, whatever it was he was trained to do.

  Almost as if she had willed it, the light from his bungalow came on, another soft glow ten yards away. A beacon of sorts, calling her. Tempting her. Hannah hesitated, indecision pulling at her.

  Indecision? No, not even close. She already knew what she was going to do—just as she knew that it was a mistake in the making.

  She ignored the hum of conversation behind her, ignored the sound of her name as Kevin called her. Ignored everything as she placed one foot in front of the other, moving closer to Ryder's bungalow. Closer still, until she stood outside the door. Raised her hand. Took a deep breath meant to fortify her courage—

  And finally knocked.

  Sixteen seconds went by—she knew because she counted every single one—before the door opened. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man standing in front of her: bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxer briefs that hugged his hips and thighs and clung to...well, everything. Holy hell, how had he undressed so quickly?

  Not that she was complaining because she wasn't. And yes, he had definitely filled out during the years.

  Everywhere.

  Her palms itched with a sudden need to run her hands over that broad chest, to feel the dark hair under her palms, to trace that line of dark hair down the washboard abs, down lower to where it disappeared—

  She slammed her eyes closed and spun around, but not before she saw the way his full mouth curled into a teasing grin. "Can you, um, maybe put on some clothes?"

  Ryder muttered something under his breath—or maybe that was a strangled laugh, she couldn't really tell. She heard a rustling sound, followed by the soft whisper of a zipper being pulled up. Irrational disappointment swirled through her and really, how stupid was that? He was only doing what she asked, there was absolutely no reason to be disappointed—

  "You can turn around now."

  She nodded, pulled in another fortifying breath, turned around—and nearly choked when she exhaled. "You, uh, you forgot your shirt."

  Ryder raised one brow as he eased his weight onto the edge of the mattress. "The sight of a bare chest offends you?"

  "No. Of course not." Offend? Oh boy, not even close. That was such the wrong word. Tempt would be a much better choice—but she wasn't about to admit that, especially not to the man who was watching her with the slightest hint of a smile on his face, like he knew exactly what she was thinking.

  Damn him.

  She yanked her gaze from the chest in question and focused on a spot on the wall just over his shoulder. A minute went by, then another, the silence finally broken by the sound of Ryder clearing his throat.

  "Was there something you needed, Hannah?"

  Needed? Talk about a loaded question—

  Hannah gave herself a mental shake, met his amused gaze, quickly looked away. "I, um, just wanted to make sure everything was okay. With you and Allison, I mean."

  "You mean other than the fact that she called me down here under false pretenses?"

  Hannah swallowed her spurt of anger. "It wasn't false pretenses—"

  "Bullshit."

  "Did she tell you what happened?"

  "Yeah—and it's not exactly a life-or-death situation like she said on the phone."

  Her eyes snapped to his. "You don't think the dead guy covers the or death part?"

  "Since I seriously doubt either one of you are in any danger, no, it doesn't."

  A tingle of warmth filled her. That feeling was quickly followed by irritation. The last thing she needed to do was read into his comment. Just because he happened to include her in it meant absolutely nothing. She was here with his sister so of course he'd include her, that's just part of who he was and what he did. The big brother, looking out for his kid sister and her best friend.

  Except Ryder hadn't been a big brother to her, not since the night she'd given him her virginity—and her heart.

  She pushed those thoughts away and forced herself to focus on why she had come here in the first place. At least, on the pretense of why.

  "Is that what you two were arguing about at dinner?"

  Ryder frowned and shifted on the bed so he was leaning against the cheap headboard. He stretched one leg out in front of him then raised his arms and clasped his hands behind his head. "We weren't arguing."

  Was he deliberately trying to distract her? Probably.

  She ignored the broad expanse of that sculpted chest and forced herself to meet his gaze. "If you weren't arguing, why did you storm off? And why did Allison look pissed?"

  He shrugged, the nonchalant gesture at direct odds with the brief clenching of his jaw. "I don't know. You'll have to ask her."

  "I'm asking you."

  "And again, I don't know. One minute we were talking and the next, she was accusing me of being a cynical ass."

  "Why? What did you say to her?"

  A flash of annoyance lit his dark eyes. "Because I'm automatically to blame, right?"

  "That's not what I said—"

  "Isn't it?"

  There was something about the way Ryder was watching her that made her think he was no longer talking about Allison. And how foolish was that? Of course he was talking about Allison. What else could he be talking about?

  The way he had left with no warning and no explanation, leaving her with nothing but hurtful words all those years ago.

  The way she had blamed him for her broken heart—a heart that was still mending, even after all this time.

  No, of course not. That was silly. Yes, she had blamed him—back then. She'd been young and foolish and in love. Had thought, at the ripe old age of almost-seventeen, that she had met her soulmate. That they'd be together forever.

  But that was a long time ago. A lifetime ago. She'd grown up in the years since then, knew there was no such thing as soulmates and that forever was nothing more than a fairytale. Ryder had been her first love—maybe her only love—but certainly not her last encounter. What she felt for him now was nothing more than nostalgia.

  And attraction.

  And a healthy dose of lust.

  And she really needed to stop thinking like that because now so wasn't the time. Or the place. And she wouldn't be standing here trying to reign in her wayward thoughts if he had put on a damn shirt like she had asked—

  She yanked her gaze from the expanse of his hairy chest—again—and forced her mind back to their conversation. "Allison doesn't get angry for no reason at all. Are you sure you didn't say anything to her?"

  "Positive. I just made some crack about Casanova having more dollars than sense,
that was it."

  "Casanova?" Hannah frowned—until she figured out who he was talking about. Tim. He had to be talking about Tim. "Oh. Well, that would explain it."

  "Explain what?"

  "Why Allison got angry."

  "Yeah? Care to enlighten me?"

  "She, um, she may have a little crush on him." Maybe more than a little crush, but no way was Hannah going to tell him that. Maybe she didn't need to because he jumped to his feet, a dark scowl on his face.

  "Did he sleep with her?"

  Hannah was going to tell him no—it was the truth, as far as she knew, because she didn't think Allison had gone quite that far with him. Not that she didn't want to, even if he was slime.

  Ryder was already moving past her before she could get the word out—and that expression on his face was not a good sign. In another fifteen seconds, he'd be ripping the door from its hinges and storming outside. Poor Tim wouldn't stand a chance.

  Hannah couldn't let that happen. Not that Tim didn't deserve it because he was slime, but because it would only cause additional problems. Kevin wasn't thrilled with Ryder or his friend being here in the first place—he'd made that very clear to her earlier. It wouldn't take much for him to force them both to leave. It might even put Hannah's position in jeopardy. Not to mention the negative impact it would have on the organization as a whole if one of their volunteers had his ass kicked.

  Hannah reached for Ryder, her hand closing around his steely bicep. Heat from his bare flesh scalded her palm, made her fingers tingle. The muscle under her hand bunched and tensed and she held her breath, waiting for him to brush her hold off. She looked up, caught his gaze and held it.

  "Ryder, don't."

  The muscle in his jaw clenched and released. Clenched and released. He dropped his gaze from hers and glanced at her hand, at the way her fingers still gripped his arm. An odd expression crossed his face, much like the one she noticed earlier, when she had placed her hand on his arm just before dinner. She hadn't understood the expression then—

  But she thought she understood it now.

  If she were smart, she'd release his arm and leave. Run out the door and lock herself in her bungalow while he ran out and went all big-brother on Tim's worthless ass.