Ryder started toward her again, stopped. All he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and hold her. Reassure her. But he couldn't. He didn't need to be an expert in body language to know touching her right now was the last thing she wanted. "Hannah, I'm sorry."
She shook her head again, anger in her eyes—anger that was directed at him. "It's not a con. I don't know where you got your information from but it's wrong."
He gentled his voice, silently urged her to see the truth in his eyes when he spoke. "Sweetheart, my information is never wrong."
It was the wrong thing to say. Ryder wasn't sure if it was his tone of voice—which he'd tried like hell to soften—or if it was the words he'd used, but Hannah stiffened as if she'd been slapped. She moved toward him, placed both hands against his chest and pushed him out of the way. Then she was tearing open the door and racing outside before he could do anything more than call her name.
"Fuck!"
"You, uh, you probably shouldn't have called her sweetheart."
Allison's forlorn voice stopped him from chasing after Hannah. He turned, swallowed back a sigh at the expression in his sister's damp eyes. She was still sitting on the bed, her hands curled around the edge of the thin mattress, staring up at him with an expression of defeat on her face.
"Is it true? This is really a con?"
He watched her for a few long seconds, knew the question was for nothing more than verification. He sighed, finally nodded.
"Yeah, it is. I'm sorry."
Allison nodded, lowered her gaze to the cracked tile floor and released a long breath. Ryder heard steps behind him, turned as Ninja walked inside. He glanced at Allison, something like sympathy flashing in his eyes, then turned to Ryder.
"Find anything?"
"Yeah." Ninja grinned and held up a flash drive. "Got everything right here. And Chaos was able to get into his accounts, too."
"Yeah? And?"
"Let's just say he's in for a big surprise. I wouldn't mind hanging around to see his expression when he finds out he just made several sizable donations to a few different charities."
"Yeah, I don't think so. As much fun as that would be, we're not hanging around."
"What do you mean?"
Ryder glanced at Allison. "I mean we're leaving."
"But—"
"No buts, Allison. We're going down to catch the next ferry then getting on a plane and heading home."
She pushed to her feet, worry dancing in her eyes. "But what about those guns? You can't just leave without—"
"Already handled. The authorities are being notified."
"So that's it? They're just going to come and take care of it? You don't have to wait around and do, I don't know, whatever it is you do for something like this? Make a statement or whatever?"
"It doesn't work that way, Allison. Especially not when they receive an anonymous tip." At least, that's what Ryder was counting on. If they were back home, things would be handled differently. Daryl Anderson, the head of CSS, had contacts who dealt with that shit. Hell, even Ryder had contacts. But down here? No, things down here worked differently. The island was remote and, as far as he knew, didn't even have its own police force or military or whatever passed for law enforcement nearby. He wasn't about to tell Allison that, though, not on top of everything else she'd been dealt this morning.
"What about Kevin? What's going to happen to him?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if he's in custody by this weekend."
"This weekend? But that's only two days away. Can't we—"
"No, we can't. Now go pack so we can get the hell out of here."
She looked like she wanted to argue, actually opened her mouth. Then she quickly shut it on a small sigh. "I'll find Hannah—"
"No, I'll find her. You go pack."
"But—"
"No buts." He didn't wait for another objection, just turned and walked out. He'd didn't need any more arguments from his sister, not when he'd be catching an earful from Hannah when he found her.
As soon as he figured out where the hell she went.
Chapter Fourteen
Hannah wasn't in her bungalow.
Or in the pavilion.
Or in the small office that had been left unlocked. That surprised him—not that Hannah wasn't in there, but that the place was unlocked so that anyone could get in and access the files. Not that they contained much of anything—Ryder took a few minutes to flip through the dented filing cabinet, browsed through a few folders here and there.
Waivers. Signed contracts. One file with a few overdue bills stuffed inside.
There wasn't a damn thing that would implicate the weasel in either the filing cabinet or the computer—which was probably why the office door wasn't locked.
The door leading back to the weasel's private quarters was a different story. Is that where Ninja had found everything? Probably. Ryder tried the knob one more time but it did nothing more than wiggle in his hand. Definitely locked. Maybe the weasel wasn't as stupid as Ryder first thought.
He pressed his ear to the door and listened, just in case Hannah was inside, but there was nothing but silence. He ignored the relief that shot through him. Tried like hell to ignore the sharp slice of jealousy that ripped through him at the same time. Hannah said there was nothing going on between the two of them and he believed her—not that he had any claim on her.
Uh-huh. Sure. Maybe if he told himself he had no claim on her enough times, he'd actually fucking believe it.
Fuck. He should have never had sex with her, knew it had been a mistake before they even started. But he'd kicked his common sense to the curb and gave in to the one thing he wanted that he couldn't have: Hannah.
The image of her face the other night flashed in front of him. The expression of shock on her face, the flare of regret in her eyes. He should have never believed all her talk of being two consenting adults and it just being sex, should have stepped away and said he was interested.
Yeah, he should have—but he hadn't. And her immediate regret had been more than obvious. Would she have been able to hide her feelings if Ninja hadn't walked in on them? Would she have pretended it was no big deal, just like she'd said it was before they got started? Maybe. In the end, it didn't matter. He should have known better but he'd acted on his desires anyway and now it was too late.
And if she didn't hate him for that, she sure as hell hated him for the fucking bombshell he dropped in her lap a few minutes ago.
Could he blame her?
No, not really.
Fine. If she hated him, she hated him. He'd deal with it now the same way he had eleven years ago—by ignoring it and letting time take care of the rest. The only problem was, he didn't have time. If they wanted to catch that morning ferry, they needed to get out of here now.
He stepped out of the office, pulled the door closed behind him, then looked around. Where the hell was she? There weren't that many places she could go, at least not in the immediate area. She probably wanted to be alone, so she'd find a spot that was secluded—
Yeah. That really narrowed it down.
Ryder turned to the left and started his search again, checking behind each bungalow, stopping to listen every few feet. He'd walk the perimeter then extend the search in an ever-widening circle until he found her. And he would find her—it was just a question of when.
He glanced at his watch then bit back a growl of frustration. When needed to be now because they didn't have much time left.
Dammit. Where the hell was she?
He moved past the pavilion, even looked inside the old storage shed he hadn't noticed before. No sign of Hannah—just some rusty tools and old paint cans and a worn-out tarp tossed in the corner, all of it overlaid with a lingering odor of marijuana.
He finally found her fifteen minutes later, on his third pass around the small camp. She was sitting on the ground, her back against the trunk of a thick tree, her knees drawn up to her chest. She didn't look at him when he approached
but Ryder knew she was aware of his presence, could see that awareness in the way her entire body stiffened.
He stood there for a long minute, waiting for her to look up. Waiting for her to say something. Waiting for...something. Hell, he'd even settle for a go to hell or a get lost but there was nothing.
He sighed then crouched down next to her, braced his arms against his thighs and clasped his hands together. If he didn't, he might do something completely foolish, like reach for her.
"We need to get going, Hannah."
Silence greeted his words. Great. Was she planning on just completely ignoring him? Apparently. He didn't want to drag her back to the bungalow and force her to pack but he would if he had to, consequences be damned. He'd save that as a last resort because this would be a hell of a lot easier if she cooperated.
Yeah, because dragging Hannah onto the ferry kicking and screaming was sure to attract unwanted attention.
He gentled his voice as much as he could and tried again. "We need to get to the ferry—"
"I'm not going."
Her hoarse words hung in the air between them. Certain. Defiant. And shit, he so didn't have time for this.
"You don't have a choice—"
"Yeah, I do. And I'm not going. I came here to do a job and I'm going to finish it—"
"What job? Hannah, it's a fucking con. Can't you see that?"
She finally looked at him. Brown eyes filled with anger and determination stared back at him. But under those two emotions lay something else—something she was doing her best to hide: acceptance of the truth cloaked in a healthy dose of denial.
"It's not a con. We wouldn't be here if it was. We wouldn't have started rebuilding the school or—or—" She paused, frowned, shook her head. "Or anything else we've done. We wouldn't be here now, still working, if it was a con."
"I know this is a lot to take in—"
"There's nothing to take in because your information is wrong." She blinked against the moisture welling in her eyes and looked away.
Ryder glanced at his watch, swallowed his frustration and decided to try reasoning with her one more time. If that failed, he'd simply drag her with him—he didn't have any other choice.
"Hannah, stop and think, will you? How long have you been doing sh—" She stiffened and Ryder immediately picked another word. "—stuff like this? Two years? Three? You can't seriously tell me it's always this unorganized. Hell, even I can tell and I've only been here a couple of days."
She shook her head again, still in denial, once again refusing to look at him. "Kevin just gets a little distracted. Overwhelmed. He—he's not used to being in charge—"
"Bullshit. Stop making excuses and open your eyes and see what the hell is really going on. He's not distracted or overwhelmed, he's running a carefully constructed con—"
"No! No, he's not. If this was a con, he'd have taken off already. He wouldn't still be here working—"
"Working on what? Because I sure as hell didn't see him do a damn thing yesterday—"
"He's in charge, he has other things to take care of, too."
Ryder reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. Took a deep breath and quickly released it. Why was she being so damn stubborn? Why was she refusing to admit the truth when he could clearly see it in her eyes? Instead of admitting it, she was making one excuse after another, almost like she was trying to cover for the asshole.
He dropped his hand and frowned. "Hannah, you're not stupid—"
"Which is how I know this isn't a con." She bit down on her lower lip, blinked several times and sucked in a deep breath. "It's not a con, Ryder. I'm not stupid. We checked, Allison and I both did. We did research. Looked into references and reviews—"
"Which can all be faked."
"No." She shook her head, spoke a little louder. "No. I refuse to believe that. I'm not stupid."
"I didn't say you were."
"But that's exactly what you're saying. It must be, because only stupid, gullible people fall for a con."
Ryder reached for her. "Sweetheart, that's not—"
She flung his hand from her arm and jumped to her feet. "Don't call me that. And stop talking to me like I'm two. I'm not an idiot and you don't need to be so damned condescending."
The last of Ryder's patience snapped. He pushed to his feet, closed the distance between them. Hannah's eyes narrowed in anger as she backed away from him, stopping only when she collided with the tree behind her. He kept moving, pinning her in place with his body—and his hard gaze.
"I'm trying to be considerate, not condescending. And I don't understand why you won't admit the truth when it's staring you straight in the face." He reached down and grabbed her hand. "We don't have time for this bullshit, we need to leave—"
"I'm not leaving."
"You don't have a choice."
"The hell I don't. I came here to do a job and I'm not leaving until it's done." She ripped her hand from his and pushed past him.
"Hannah, dammit—"
She spun around, pointed at him with one trembling finger. And dammit, moisture filled her gaze despite all the blinking she was doing to stop it. "People are counting on me, Ryder. You keep saying it's a con but we actually started something here. We're doing something good here. I can't just walk away. I'm not like that." She paused, took a shuddering breath and lowered her voice. "I'm not like you."
The accusation slammed into him, freezing him in place, robbing his lungs of air. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he blinked, pushed back the grayness that hovered at the edge of his vision.
Told himself he was hearing things. Told himself that Hannah hadn't meant the words hanging in the air between them the way he was taking them.
One look at her face said otherwise. Yes, she meant them the way they'd come out. And yes, the guilt shining in her eyes let him know she regretted saying them and wished she could take them back—but she couldn't.
No more than he could take back the awful words he'd said to her eleven years ago.
"I don't understand how you can just walk away, Ryder."
He didn't look up from packing his bag. He couldn't, not when he knew what he'd see. Not when he knew how much harder that would make things. "I signed up to do this. You know that."
"But you can change your mind. It's not too late."
"No, Hannah, I can't. Uncle Sam doesn't work that way."
A long pause. A muffled sniffle.
The floor creaked beneath her slight weight when she moved toward him. Close. Close enough that he felt her right behind him. Close enough so that all he had to do was turn around and she'd be right there. He'd pull her into his arms and—
No. That was the last thing he could do. This was hard enough as it was. But he couldn't tell her that. If he did, she'd think there was hope. Think he'd be coming back.
And he wouldn't be. Not any time soon. Not with what he'd already obligated himself to do.
"You could stay. I know you could...if you really wanted to."
And there it was, the accusation that had been simmering for the last few weeks as the date of his departure moved closer.
If he wanted to.
And fuck, this was all his fault. He should have never touched her. Never gotten involved with her, not when he knew he was leaving. But he'd been stupid, had let himself believe she could handle the brief relationship. Hell, he'd let himself believe it, too.
And now he had nobody to blame but himself.
He wished he could drag out the packing because he didn't want to turn and face her, didn't want the temptation that was Hannah to lure him into doing something they'd both regret—and if he stayed, they would regret it. Maybe he was still young but even he knew that.
He zipped the small duffel—he didn't need to pack much, not for where he was going—then slowly turned. He kept his gaze focused on the wall behind Hannah, refused to even look at her. She was going to hate him before this was over and he didn't think he could handle seeing that ha
te in her eyes when she left.
Because she would leave. He was going to make sure of it.
"I don't want to stay, Hannah."
"But—"
"You knew going into this how it would end. You knew it was just a...a thing."
Tears filled her eyes but she didn't move away. Didn't turn on her heel and run like he expected her to.
"You said you loved me."
Yeah, he had. He'd blurted the declaration out the first time they'd had sex because he'd been too stupid to keep his mouth shut. It didn't matter that he'd meant it then, and every single time he'd said it in the three months since. And it didn't matter that he still meant it now. She couldn't know that.
Ever.
He forced himself to laugh, the sound cold and impersonal. "Sweetheart, don't you know guys will say anything to get fucked?"
There it was, the shock he'd been expecting. The color drained from her face, only to replaced by two bright spots of red on her cheeks. She blinked but it wasn't enough to stop the tears from finally falling. The sight of those tears trailing down her splotched cheeks made him physically sick. He wanted to reach for her, pull her into his arms and tell her he didn't mean it.
But he couldn't. If he did, she'd hold out hope that there could be something more between them. She'd put her own life on hold and wait for him to come back. He couldn't do that to her, not when an entire world of possibility was stretched out in front of her. He couldn't make her wait for something that was never going to happen.
"Y-you don't mean that."
Dammit, why was she still here? Why wouldn't she believe him? She should have turned and left as soon as the words left his mouth. No, she should have slapped him first then left.
Ryder dug down deep for the strength he needed to push her away for good—and prayed that he could hide his real emotions while he forced the biggest lie he'd ever told from his mouth.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I do. It was fun for a while but it's over. Fucking you was nothing more than a distraction. A way to kill time until I left."
The hurt spreading across her face tore him apart inside—but he didn't move. Didn't say anything to ease the harsh sting of the lie. Seconds stretched into minutes before the hurt in her watery gaze morphed into hate. Cold. Sharp. Biting.
The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3) Page 12