The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  And he probably shouldn't start thinking now. Thinking would be bad. Real bad.

  He looked at Hannah. At the way her hand drifted back and forth along his arm. At the dreamy smile that curled the corners of her mouth—a mouth swollen from his punishing kisses. God, she was so fucking beautiful. She always had been. He could sit here all night and just fucking watch her.

  Except he couldn't. He needed to get up. Clean up. They both did. And then they needed to talk.

  Probably.

  Maybe.

  He started to nudge her, froze when he heard the doorknob rattle. Started to call out, to warn Ninja not to come in—

  Except it was too late.

  Hannah's eyes shot open and the blood drained from her face as Ninja opened the door. The man took one look at them, grinned, and quickly backed out of the room.

  "I'll come back later."

  Ryder waited for the door to click shut then softly swore. Tightened his hold around Hannah's waist when she started to move. "He, uh, he won't say anything."

  "I know." She pushed against him and he finally released her, swallowed back a groan when she stood and turned her back on him.

  He wanted to tell her again not to worry, to reassure her—but it was already too late. He'd seen the emotion on her pale face, in her wide eyes, before she had turned away.

  Not embarrassment.

  Regret.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Seven

  "You're swinging that hammer like you'd rather hit me than the nails."

  Ryder paused mid-swing, tossed a dark look at Ninja, then went back to pounding nails. "Don't fucking tempt me."

  "I left."

  "I know."

  "I apologized."

  "I know."

  "About twenty times."

  Ryder grabbed another nail from the small bag by his knee and drove it into the plywood with two hard hits. "Yeah. I know."

  Silence. Finally. Ryder grabbed one more nail, held it against the plywood between his thumb and forefinger and started to swing.

  "You should have gone after her when she ran off."

  Ryder misjudged his aim. Pain exploded along his thumb, deep and throbbing. He tossed the hammer to the side and pulled his hand toward his chest, his jaw clenched until the pain finally ebbed to a dull ache. "Son-of-a-bitch!"

  "Did you break it?"

  He scowled at Ninja, at the glint of amusement dancing in the man's eyes and the hint of a smile curling his mouth. Ryder released his breath in a sharp hiss and reached for the hammer, briefly considered slamming it into Ninja's head. No, that would be too easy. Too quick. Ninja deserved something much worse.

  Maybe he could throw the other man from the roof. It was a good thirty-foot drop, with nothing but gravel and construction materials to break his fall. If Ryder aimed just right, he could make sure Ninja hit the stack of concrete blocks.

  Nah, still too easy. Ninja would probably land on his feet like a fucking cat before laughing at him. The cliff—yeah, there was an idea. He could throw him off the cliff. No way would Ninja land on his feet then.

  No, even that was too easy.

  Voices drifted up to them. One voice in particular caught his attention—it was a little too sharp, a little too shrill. And just like that, Ryder had the perfect revenge. His mouth curled in a slow smile and he turned toward Ninja. Satisfaction warmed him when he saw the other man's eyes widen in horror.

  "No way, man. No fucking way. You wouldn't."

  "The hell I wouldn't."

  Ninja's face paled. He glanced over the edge of the half-finished roof. A small group gathered below: Cindy and Darla, Katie—and Mrs. Miller. It was the older woman's voice that could be heard above the others, chattering away about the best ways to spread the paint. Yeah, because rolling paint required an engineering degree. But directing the younger women seemed to make her happy and nobody else was complaining.

  Nobody except Ninja.

  The woman seemed to be taken with him. She'd latched onto his side at breakfast and would probably still be attached to his hip if they weren't up here on the roof, nailing plywood sheets to the uneven joists. The woman's fascination with Ninja had been amusing for the first five minutes, right up until Ryder realized that Allison hadn't been joking yesterday when she'd said breakfast was fresh fruit.

  A small bowl of fresh fruit and a single cup of coffee, to be exact. That was it.

  Ryder's mood hadn't been the greatest to start out, considering he'd tossed and turned all night, trying not to think about Hannah. About the way she had looked at him. Touched him. The tiny little sounds and whimpers she'd made as he plunged deep inside her. The way she'd come apart in his arms.

  The way he'd lost all control when he'd been inside her.

  And the way she'd fled from the bungalow, her loose hair flying behind her, refusing to look at him, not even hesitating when he called after her.

  Fuck.

  He should have never touched her. Should have never let it go as far as it had.

  Who the fuck was he kidding? Hannah was his weakness, always had been. That's why he'd left the way he did all those years ago. Yeah, he'd been leaving anyway—he'd already enlisted, had already planned on leaving. But he'd never told Hannah when he was going. How could he, when he was worried that one look from her would make him forget everything and decide to stay? That wouldn't have been fair—to either one of them.

  Especially not when he knew she was already talking about forever.

  But she had found out anyway. Had tracked him down. And instead of telling her how he felt, he'd thrown those hurtful words at her, severing their connection forever.

  Until last night.

  Yeah, he could have gone after her last night. But why? What would that have accomplished? Not a damn thing except make this whole fucking trip even more awkward and uncomfortable than it was turning out to be.

  Yes, he wanted her. He'd always wanted her. Would probably want her until the fucking day he died. But wanting and having were two different things. Being with her was a mistake. He'd sworn, years ago, that he'd never hurt her again—yet that's exactly what happened last night. Despite all that bullshit she'd spouted about not being in love and being two consenting adults, Hannah was made for commitment. For settling down and getting married and raising a family.

  He wasn't.

  It was as simple as that.

  So no, Ryder's mood hadn't been the greatest to begin with this morning. The lack of two mandatory morning staples—caffeine and protein—had transformed his piss-poor mood from annoyed to downright surly. Ninja's teasing—interspersed with an apology here and there—hadn't helped.

  The other man deserved a little payback.

  Ryder opened his mouth, ready to call down to Mrs. Miller, but a scream split the air. Long, sharp, the sound sending a chill of pure fright down his spine.

  Hannah!

  Ryder hit the ladder at full speed, his hands gripping the rails and his feet barely touching the rungs as he slid down it. The scream had come from the other side of the building, near the cliff. Ryder took off at a run, Ninja right behind him—

  Then slid to a stop as cold fear washed over him.

  Hannah was hanging over the edge, her left hand scrambling for something to hold onto. Her eyes were wide with fear, her face red from panic. She kicked her feet, the toes of her work boots digging for purchase in the loose soil and sand. Instead of anchoring her, the motion caused her to slide another few inches, dangerously close to plummeting over the edge.

  Ryder dove for her, his hands closing around her ankles with the force of a vice grip. "I've got you—"

  "It's not me!" Panic sharpened her voice; desperation made it nothing more than a whisper. Tears shone in her eyes as their gazes met. "Ryder, please. I can't hold her much longer."

  Her? What the fuck?

  Ryder crawled over Hannah, anchoring her against the soft ground with the weight of his own body. He heard Ninja behind him, felt the
other man's hands close over his legs for added support. Then he leaned over the edge—

  And his heart catapulted into his throat.

  Hannah's hand was twisted in the thin shirt of a little girl, maybe seven or eight-years-old. The child was swinging mid-air, her legs thrashing in panic, her hands clawing the air in front of her. Seventy feet below her, clear blue surf crashed against jagged rocks and sand. Stark fear twisted the delicate features of the girl's face. Brown eyes, wide with terror, met his a second before she screamed, the hoarse sound carried away by the breeze—but not before it was drowned out by the sound of fabric tearing.

  "Ryder!"

  He ignored Hannah's strangled cry. Ignored Ninja's low voice and the frightened murmurs coming from the small crowd behind him. His entire focus was on the little girl—and Hannah's precarious grip on her tearing shirt.

  He scrambled over Hannah, stretching as he reached for the girl. One hand closed over her bony wrist, the other around her slender arm. The girl screamed again, her legs kicking wildly as she struggled against Ryder's hold. The motion was enough to pull him forward, until the entire top half of his body was hanging from the ledge—with Hannah right under him.

  If he went over, he'd take Hannah with him.

  No! No way in hell would he allow that to happen.

  "Grab Hannah! Now!"

  Voices erupted behind him—a cacophony of excited mutterings overlaid by Ninja's calmer one, issuing orders to the people standing there. Below that was Hannah's voice, nothing more than a whisper as she said his name. He glanced over his shoulder, met her frightened gaze. Could she see the lifetime of regret in his eyes? His secret wish that things had been different?

  Or was she merely focused on his determination to see her safe? To make sure that if he went over, he wouldn't take her with him?

  She started to say something but he looked away, focused solely on his grip on the little girl who seemed determined to fight him, to take them both over the edge. A second later, Hannah was pulled from underneath him. The girl screamed again, twisting in his hold until he lost his grip on her arm.

  Fuck!

  Ryder stretched as far as he dared, caught her loose arm with his free hand and yelled over his shoulder. "Pull me back. Now, dammit!"

  Hands closed over his ankles. His legs. Grabbed the waistband of his pants. Pulling. Slowly at first, then faster, until he was no longer in danger of plummeting over the edge.

  Until the little girl was safe beside him, tears streaking her dusty face. He pushed to a sitting position and folded his arms around the little girl. She clung to him, tears soaking his shirt as she buried her face against his shoulder and cried. He rubbed gentle circles along her thin back, whispering words of reassurance in her ear. Then Hannah was beside him, her arms wrapped around both of them, her own tears mingling with the little girl's.

  Ryder sat there, momentarily stunned, not knowing how to act. The little girl's tears he could handle—she was nothing more than a child, one who had just gone through a terrifying experience. Hannah's tears were another matter altogether. They sliced through him, ripping away every defensive barrier he had erected in the last ten years.

  And he had no idea how to handle that.

  It was his sister who came to his rescue, although she probably didn't realize it. She shoved two bottles of water at them, a trembling smile on her pale face. Ryder gently extricated himself from the two sets of arms threatening to strangle him and took one bottle. Uncapped it and held it for the little girl. She closed both hands around the bottle and cautiously raised it to her mouth, her brown gaze never leaving his—

  Until a woman's shriek split the air, making Ryder—and the little girl—jump. The girl dropped the bottle in Ryder's lap and launched herself at the woman, fresh tears streaming down her face. The girl—and the woman—were both talking too fast, their musical voices rising and falling in a rapid melody of island dialect he didn't even pretend to understand.

  "That's her mother."

  "Yeah, figured that much." Ryder grabbed the half-empty bottle, mentally wincing when he saw the puddle spreading between his legs. Water seeped through his pants, soaking his legs—and his ass.

  Perfect. Just fucking perfect.

  He pushed to his feet, extended his hand to Hannah. She hesitated then finally placed her hand in his, her firm grip surprising him. She jumped to her feet then quickly dropped her hand, her gaze sliding past him.

  Ryder spun around, narrowed his eyes at the small crowd of people watching them. Mrs. Miller and Katie. Cindy and Darla.

  Allison and Ninja.

  The weasel.

  And, coming up the path that wound down the cliffside, Casanova. The man stopped, guilt deepening the flush of exertion coloring his cheeks, then smiled and made his way toward them.

  "Is it lunchtime already?"

  One of the two women—Darla—hurried toward him and snaked a possessive arm around his waist. The woman's eyes raked over Ryder as a broad smile wreathed her face. "I can't believe you missed it!"

  "Missed what?"

  "Our action hero, saving the day!"

  Ryder choked back a groan, exchanged a knowing look with Ninja and barely refrained from rolling his eyes. But it was the weasel who spoke, his voice clipped and chilly.

  "No need for exaggeration, Darla. It was just a little mishap, nothing more." The weasel shot a cool look at Ryder—and at Hannah, standing so close next to him. His thin mouth pursed, irritation and something else Ryder couldn't make out flashing in his cold blue eyes. "What happened, Hannah? You were working on that side. How did she get past you?"

  "I—I'm not sure."

  "Really?" The weasel's voice lowered. His gaze darted to Ryder then shot back to Hannah. "Are you sure you weren't distracted? Because if you'd been paying attention, this wouldn't have happened."

  Anger shot through Ryder. He expected Hannah to say something, to verbally tear into the other man, but she just stood there, her head lowered, her eyes wet with unshed tears. What the hell? Why wasn't she saying anything?

  Ryder stepped forward, ready to defend her by ramming his fist into the weasel's smug little face. Ninja's hand shot out and wrapped around his arm, stopping him. Hannah finally spoke up, her voice hoarse and strained, as if she'd spent the last two hours at a rock concert, screaming along with the band.

  "She was chasing a ball. I didn't see her until it was too late. I chased after her but..." Hannah's voice trailed off and she just stood there, her shoulders sagging, those unspent tears still glittering in her eyes.

  Why the hell was the weasel blaming Hannah? She deserved to be commended for what she'd done. If she hadn't reacted as fast as she had, if she hadn't caught that little girl's shirt—Ryder hid his shudder at the image. Hannah didn't deserve the accusation the weasel was throwing at her. He started to say as much but the asshole kept talking, his voice dripping with condescension.

  "I guess it's just a good thing Allison's brother was able to reach you so quickly, hm?" His cool gaze moved to Ryder, drifted down to his wet pants and back up to meet his gaze. A smirk accompanied the condescension that was still clear in his voice when he spoke. "It's unfortunate about your accident. I'm sure everyone would understand if you went back to camp for the rest of the day."

  Allison stepped forward, her fingers curled against her palms. Not quite a fist, but close. "It's water. Naomi spilled the bottle—"

  "No need to make excuses for your brother—"

  "It's not an excuse! If you'd been doing your job instead of disappearing—"

  "Enough. We still have work to do." The weasel clapped his hands together. "And since everyone has already started their break, we may as well have lunch. Hannah, if you'll come with me and help me get everything set up." It was an order, not a suggestion. Hannah stood there, unmoving for a long minute. Then she cast a look at Ryder, her expression a mixture of apology and gratitude. He didn't understand the reason for either one.

  And he didn't un
derstand why she moved forward to follow the weasel instead of telling him where to go. Even Allison turned to follow them, along with everyone else. Casanova was the last one. He paused in front of Ryder and Ninja, his glassy gaze slightly unfocused.

  "Sounds like you're a good man to have around in an emergency."

  "Yeah. Sure." Ryder's words were short and clipped. If Casanova even noticed, he showed no signs of it. He just offered both men a big grin and turned toward the small building, leaving Ryder and Ninja outside. Alone.

  "Son-of-a-bitch. I've never wanted to hit someone as much as I want to hit him."

  "Which one?"

  "Both of them, but I was referring to the weasel. What the fuck is his problem?"

  Ninja rubbed his knuckles across his mouth then shrugged. "No idea. He doesn't like you, though. At all."

  "Yeah, no shit. The feeling is entirely mutual." Ryder stared at the door everyone had disappeared through. Allison's words came back to him and he tilted his head to the side, frowning. "What was that Allison said? Something about doing his job instead of disappearing?"

  "Yeah, something like that. Why?"

  "Because I thought I saw someone down on the beach."

  "When?"

  "When I was hanging over the ledge, playing Superman. I thought it was Casanova at first but now I'm wondering."

  "You think it was the project manager?"

  "Maybe. I only caught a brief glimpse. Male. Light hair." Maybe. Or maybe he'd just been seeing things. It wasn't like he hadn't been preoccupied, trying to hold onto the little girl. Worrying about Hannah.

  Christ. He never wanted to feel that way again. Never wanted to experience that bone-chilling sense of helplessness he'd felt in that one brief second when he'd been convinced he was going to slide completely over the edge—and take Hannah with him. It wasn't his life he'd been worried about—it had been the girl's. And Hannah's. The mere thought of anything happening to her—

  "I don't think it was him."

  Ryder shook off the memory's chill and turned to Ninja. "Why not?"

  "Think about it. That path down to the beach is, what? A half-mile? Maybe a little more? Plus it's all uphill. I don't think your buddy would have been able to make it back up here in time."