He looked at her now. At her pale face and wide eyes. Her thick hair had come loose from the ponytail she always wore, the wind blowing strands of it into her face. She brushed them away then shivered as another gust blew in off the water.
"We need to catch up with the others before you freeze."
"I'm fine."
"You're cold."
"Not really. And I'm not the one who's wet."
"Don't worry about me, I've been through a hell of a lot worse." He reached for her hand then led her toward the trail, shortening his stride so she wouldn't have to walk fast to keep up.
"You don't think it was an accident, do you?" Her question was hesitant, her subdued voice quiet enough that it wouldn't be overheard by the group several yards in front of them. Ryder hesitated—not because he didn't know what to tell her, but because he didn't want to talk about it here. Not when there was a chance they might be overheard.
"We'll talk about it later."
"Okay."
"Then we're going to talk about leaving."
She nodded, without even the slightest indication that she wanted to argue. Ryder almost made a joke about her quick agreement, about the entire situation, but bit the words off before they tumbled from his mouth.
If they were on a mission somewhere, or running an op, the dark humor would have already been flying. But they weren't—and Hannah wasn't exactly one his men. Now wasn't the time for gallows humor.
They reached the van as the first drops of rain fell from the sky. Big, fat drops that hit the dry ground with heavy plops. Slow at first, just a small tease of the downpour that was to come. He helped Hannah inside then started to climb in after her, only to stop when the weasel's arm shot across the open door, blocking him.
"You're wet."
Ryder stared at the man, wondering if he'd heard correctly. Wondering if he'd interpreted the outstretched arm correctly. Yeah, he had. The stupid fucker was actually trying to stop him from getting inside.
"Yeah, I am. I'm going to get wetter the longer I stand out here." Ryder's voice was low. Even. Deadly. But the fucker was too damn stupid to realize he was seconds away from being dragged out because he just sat there, shaking his head.
"I'm sorry but I can't let you ride with us. The seat would never dry, not in this weather—"
"Kevin! You can't be serious."
The weasel turned toward Hannah, the smirk he'd been wearing morphing into a small smile. "You know the rules, Hannah. This is the only transportation we have. I'm responsible for it and—"
"Fine. I'll stay with Ryder." Hannah slid across the seat and started to climb out but the weasel grabbed her arm, stopping her. Ryder was moving before Hannah's surprised gasp even left her. He grabbed the asshole's hand and twisted it back, stopping before bones snapped. A high-pitched scream filled the interior of the van, drowning out the surprised gasps of everyone else already seated. Ryder ignored the pathetic sound, ignored the looks being directed at him, and leaned forward.
"Don't ever touch her again. Is that understood?"
Sweat broke out on the weasel's pale face. He tried to yank his hand from Ryder's hold then gasped in surprised pain once more before finally nodding. Only after he stuttered a weak answer in the affirmative did Ryder release him.
The other man pulled his hand against his chest, cradling it while his breathing evened out. Anger turned his pale face red and he leveled an icy glare of hatred at Ryder.
"I want you gone. You and your friend both. You're no longer welcome here. I want you both on the ferry first thing tomorrow morning."
Ryder almost laughed. Was the man actually threatening him? He was clueless. Absolutely clueless—but Ryder didn't care. He climbed into the van, closed the door behind him, then met the weasel's cold stare with one of his own.
"Not a problem."
Maybe the man had finally seen something in Ryder's gaze that let him know he was flirting with danger. The color drained from his face and he quickly turned away, starting the van and putting it in gear without another word.
The ride back was quiet, the only sound that of the rain battering the roof over their heads. Minutes stretched as they bounced over ruts and rocked side-to-side, the bald tires spinning in the wet sand and dirt before gaining traction and lurching them forward. More than once, Ryder thought they might have to get out and push, but the aging vehicle finally made it back to the camp. He opened the door and helped Hannah out, did the same for the women and Mr. Miller. Then he placed his hand in the middle of Hannah's back and guided her toward his bungalow, not saying a word as they walked away.
Knowing that the weasel's gaze was focused on his back the entire time. Fine, let him send death glares. Not like the man had the balls—or the skill—to do anything about it.
Ninja and Allison were both sitting on the edge of Ninja's bed when he pushed through the door. He shot a frown in Ninja's direction then closed the door behind him.
"Tim's dead."
Allison shot from the bed, tears already filling her eyes. "What? No. He can't—what happened?"
And fuck, why had Ryder just blurted it out like that? Because he'd forgotten his sister had a 'thing'—whatever the fuck that meant—for the guy. He blew out a deep breath then gentled his voice.
"I'm sorry, Allison."
Hannah stepped in for him, going over to his sister and pulling her into a comforting hug. "Ryder found him in the water. He—he tried to help him but it was too late."
"I don't understand. Why was he in the water? What happened?"
Hannah glanced over her shoulder and met Ryder's gaze. Then she turned back to Allison, her voice even gentler as she tugged her toward the door. "Let's go back to our place. I'll tell you what I know then."
Ryder waited for both women to leave before turning back to Ninja. There was no guilt at all on the man's face—but then, Ryder didn't expect to see any. Not with Ninja. But he hadn't missed how close the two had been sitting, or the way Allison had jumped just the slightest bit when he opened the door.
"So what happened?" Ninja asked the question before Ryder could, giving him the perfect opening.
"I could ask you the same thing."
The damn man actually had the nerve to laugh. Just a small chuckle but coming from Ninja, that was about the same as a full-blown belly laugh. "I've been a perfect gentleman."
Did Ryder believe him? Yeah, for the most part. But he'd definitely keep an eye on them over the next few days, make sure the mini-vacation didn't turn into a romantic interlude.
He peeled the damp shirt over his head and tossed it to the side, then bent over to work on his boots. He'd only brought the one pair, which was going to suck later when he put them back on.
"You going to tell me what happened, or you going to keep me in suspense while you practice your striptease routine?"
Ryder got one boot off and worked on the next, loosening the Kevlar laces enough that he could get his foot out. "Just what Hannah said: I found Tim in the water."
"And?"
Ryder looked up, met Ninja's questioning gaze with his own steady one. "The back of his head was caved in."
"Accident?"
"That's what they'll probably call it but no, I don't think so."
"Any ideas who might have done it?"
"Not a fucking clue. Nobody else was missing when Hannah saw him floating—which doesn't mean anything because I have no idea how long he'd been missing." Ryder grabbed a fresh change of clothes—his last—from the pack and tossed them on the bed before moving to the small bathroom. "Do me a favor, go make sure Hannah and Allison are both packed. We're leaving in the morning."
"Didn't we try just that this morning?"
"Yeah—but we don't have to sneak away this time. The weasel's kicking us out."
Ninja pushed off the bed with another chuckle. "No shit. How'd you manage that?"
"Just one of my many hidden talents, I guess." He started to close the bathroom door then paused, all humor gone
from his voice when he met Ninja's gaze. "Don't make me snap your fucking neck for messing around with my sister."
The other man actually laughed again, the sound cut short when he closed the door behind him. Ryder mentally rolled his eyes then wedged himself into the small shower. He stepped out five minutes later, clean and salt-free and with only a few bruises to show for the effort. A total win in his book.
He dried off as best he could by running the threadbare towel over his wet hair and chest and legs. Then draped the damn thing around his neck because it wasn't big enough to wrap around his waist. Not that he needed to—he was the only one in here and he wasn't exactly the modest type to begin with.
Or so he thought until he stepped out of the bathroom and saw Hannah sitting on his bed.
He blinked, wondered if maybe he was fucking hallucinating. No, it was definitely Hannah. His eyes might deceive him but his body's immediate reaction to the sight of her sitting there, staring at him, sure as hell didn't.
And she was getting one hell of an eyeful.
Chapter Eighteen
She stared at Ryder for several long minutes, her gaze riveted on the perfection of his body. Broad shoulders. Thick arms with defined muscles, from his biceps all the way down to his wrists. The dark scrollwork of his tattoos called to her, just waiting to traced.
Sculpted chest, sprinkled with dark hair that begged to be touched and teased. Flat nipples, the points small and sharp. A drop of water trailed down the center of his chest. She watched, mesmerized, following it with hungry eyes as it cascaded down his chest to his ridged abdomen. Lower, following the thin line of dark hair that pointed the way to his erection. Long. Thick. Hard.
Growing even harder under her gaze.
His body was a study of pure masculinity, despite its imperfections. Or maybe because of them.
A scar ran diagonally across his side, just above his hip, the line faded with age. She remembered how he'd gotten it. He'd been fifteen at the time, had tried to jump a fence with his bike—unsuccessfully. She remembered the way he had tried to shrug it off and reassure her he was fine, even though she could see the pain in his eyes as he held his hand against his side. Even though blood dripped between his fingers while she and Allison had helped him back home.
Another scar, this one thick and jagged, marred the flesh of his right thigh. She had no idea how he'd gotten that one, wasn't sure she wanted to know. There were other scars as well, small signs that hinted at a life filled with risks taken with no hesitation.
Imperfections? No, far from it. If anything, they only added to the pure masculinity on display in front of her. They were a sign of who he was, a testament to things he had done. Things she couldn't imagine.
Things she probably didn't want to know.
Hannah dragged her gaze from the scar on his thigh, up to the thick erection jutting toward her. Need filled her, hot and heavy. She wanted to reach out and curl her hand around him, to feel the velvety softness of hot skin stretched tight. Feel him grow even harder in her gentle grasp as she stroked him.
She curled her fingers into her palms instead. Dragged her gaze up higher, away from the temptation staring her in the face. Higher still, finally meeting his own gaze.
Pure hunger, stark and powerful, stared back at her. Then he blinked and the hunger was gone, carefully hidden behind a mask of caution. He could put on any mask he wanted, it didn't matter, not when she had already seen the truth in those deep brown eyes.
He didn't move. Didn't look away. Made no effort to cover himself. If she didn't know better, she'd think he was indifferent to her presence.
His body said otherwise.
He reached for the towel draped around his neck, gripped the ends in each hand and cleared his throat. His gaze dipped to the bed then quickly met hers again. "You should be packing."
"I'm finished."
His brows shot up in surprise. "Already?"
No, not really. Maybe not even close. But she didn't have much, knew it wouldn't take long. And seeing Ryder was more important.
"I came to apologize."
His brows moved again, this time lowering in a confused frown. "Apologize? For what?"
"This morning. For overreacting."
"You did that already. Back at the building site."
Had she? Yes, she had, but she'd forgotten all about it. She shrugged, offered him a fleeting smile. "Then I'm apologizing again."
"Okay." He slowly nodded, glanced down at the bed again then back at her. "Was that it?"
"No. I—" She hesitated, not sure how to say what she'd come here to say. It shouldn't be that hard, not when she'd been rehearsing it in her mind all morning.
She took a deep breath, exhaled and let the words come out in a rush. "I didn't mean to say what I said earlier. About not being like you. I—I didn't mean it, not that way. Not the way you took it."
"I didn't take it any way."
"You thought I was talking about the day you left. I saw it in your eyes, just for a second." And she had. He'd probably deny it but it didn't matter—she'd seen the flash of surprise. Of hurt. Of regret.
"Hannah—" He stopped. Shifted. Looked down at the bed again then back at her. "If we're going to talk about this, I should probably get dressed."
Disappointment washed over her. Had she read him completely wrong? No, she didn't think so, not when his erection still stood proudly between them. But maybe that was just his body's reaction. Maybe it had nothing to do with her.
And maybe the sun would rise in the west tomorrow.
No, she hadn't read him wrong. Hadn't misinterpreted the hunger she'd seen in his eyes only moments ago. Which meant he was trying to be noble. Or honorable. Or...or something.
Could she blame him, after the way she had acted the other night? After the way she had acted this morning? No.
She forced herself to act nonchalant and shrugged, like she didn't care what he did. "Sure. No problem. You can get dressed, I'll wait."
He watched her for a few long seconds then motioned to the bed with a quick nod. "You're sitting on my clothes."
His clothes? Was that why he'd been looking at the bed? She almost jumped to her feet, actually started to move—
And then she stopped.
She tilted her head to the side then leaned back, bracing her weight on her hands. Her mouth curled into a teasing smile. "Then I guess you're going to have to move me to get to them."
Ryder didn't say anything. He didn't move. And the blank expression on his face told her nothing. Embarrassment washed over her, the heat of it prickling her skin. She shifted, thought about just getting up and leaving. Coming here had been a mistake. After everything that happened the last few days—this afternoon—she had wanted nothing more than reassurance. An hour or two with Ryder. To feel his strong arms around her, to feel his warm breath against her ear as he told her everything was going to be okay. To forget, just for a little while, all the craziness that still didn't make sense.
To forget everything.
She thought that maybe he wanted the same thing. She thought...well, it didn't matter what she thought. What she wanted.
Ryder finally moved, just the slightest shifting as he slid the towel from around his neck and wrapped it around his waist. At least, he tried to. The towel wasn't big enough, not even close, so he had to hold it in front of him with both hands—
And it didn't do a damn thing to hide anything.
The insane urge to laugh swept over her and she choked it back. Stood and reached for the clothes she'd been sitting on. She'd go back to her bungalow and finish packing then get some sleep—at least, try to.
She shoved the clothes toward him, unable to meet his dark gaze. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing."
His gaze dropped to the clothes in her hand then lifted to hers. There was an intensity in his dark eyes that she didn't understand, the force of it holding her in place when all she wanted to do now was r
un away.
His fingers brushed against hers as he reached for the clothes. Just that little touch was enough to make her pulse quicken. She stepped back, knowing she needed to leave. Now. Yes, coming here had been a stupid idea—and for reasons that went far beyond what she had already admitted.
Ryder pulled the clothes from her hand but instead of backing into the bathroom, he carelessly tossed them back to the bed. His gaze never left hers the entire time. Holding her in place. Studying her. Watching.
Seeing too much.
"Why?"
The ragged word hung between them. Rough. Hoarse. Hannah just stood there, unable to do anything more than shake her head.
"Why apologize?"
Apologize? What was he—oh. He was talking about what she'd confessed only a few minutes earlier, when she had told him she hadn't meant what she said this morning. Hadn't meant the words the way he'd taken them.
"I—Because..." Her voice faded, swallowed by the thick tension hovering between them. Was it her imagination, or had he moved closer?
"Why apologize, after what I said to you that day?"
Yes, he had moved closer. She started to step back, stopped when realization washed over her with new found clarity. He was trying to intimidate her. To use the size of his body and the force of that dark stare to push her away.
Just like he'd done eleven years ago with his hurtful words. Pushing. Always pushing—because he thought he knew what was best for her.
She lifted her chin and met his stare with one of her own. "Because you didn't mean what you said. And it wasn't fair of me—"
"I meant every word."
"No, you didn't. You were trying to protect me—"
The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3) Page 15