The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  In hindsight, it had been a stupid thing to do. But in a completely uncharacteristic move on his part, he hadn't stopped to think. She was upset so he hugged her.

  And then she kissed him.

  For one heart-stopping second—okay, it had been more than a second, maybe a minute or five—he'd kissed her back. Cradled her face between his palms and slanted his mouth over hers. Ran his tongue over the seam of petal-soft lips and swallowed her soft sigh as he deepened the kiss.

  And then he remembered where he was. More importantly, he remembered who he was with. He jumped back, the image of Boomer snapping his neck more effective than being doused with a bucket of ice-cold water. And then he just pretended it never happened.

  Yeah, because he was smooth that way.

  But pretending sure as hell wasn't helping him at all because he'd been distracted ever since.

  "So what's the total up to?"

  Ninja glanced at the two columns of numbers and quickly did the math. "Minus the one hand I won, I now owe you nine-hundred and sixty-eight dollars."

  Damn good thing they were only playing for fun.

  Allison scooped up the cards and shuffled them. "One more hand?"

  "No, I need a break." He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pausing to stretch. "Isn't Hannah supposed to be joining us?"

  Allison glanced at her watch. A small frown creased her forehead then quickly disappeared. "She was supposed to but that was an hour ago. Ryder probably showed back up, which means we probably won't see either one of them for another few hours."

  "Maybe." Except he wasn't buying it. Boomer would have at least stopped by to touch base and discuss alternate plans before locking himself in the other bungalow. "Let's go check."

  "Check? Now? Um, ew, no. I totally don't need to see any of my brother's body parts, thank you."

  "We'll knock first."

  Allison looked out the window, at the rain that was still coming down. Not as heavy as earlier, and there hadn't been any lightning or thunder in the last thirty minutes, but it was still more than an inconvenient drizzle. She looked back at Ninja and shook her head.

  "How about you go knock and I'll stay here?"

  "I want you to go with me." He reached for her poncho and held it out to her. "Humor me."

  It looked like she wanted to say no but she must have seen something in his gaze that changed her mind. She slid off the bed and grabbed the poncho, then slipped her feet into a pair of flimsy flip-flops.

  "Do me a favor: put your shoes on instead." She didn't have work boots, not like the ones he'd seen some of the others wearing, but her shoes were thick and rugged. Sturdy.

  And a hundred times better than those silly flip-flops that showed off her brightly-painted toenails.

  Maybe she was starting to sense something wasn't quite right. Or maybe she was picking up on his own uneasiness. It didn't really matter because she simply gave him another odd look then kicked off her flip-flops. She didn't say anything as she grabbed a pair of socks from the oversized backpack she had mostly packed last night and pulled them on. A minute later, he was leading her toward the bungalow he shared with Boomer.

  His heavy knock went unanswered. He knocked again, just in case, then turned the knob. If they were in there, it would be locked, especially since he'd walked in on them the other night. No way in hell would Boomer make that mistake twice.

  The door was unlocked.

  He pushed it open and walked in, Allison right behind him. Boomer's bed was unmade, the covers rumpled, the sheet hanging halfway off the mattress. Boomer's pack was resting on Ninja's bed, zipped up tight. A pile of clothes that definitely didn't belong to his buddy was sitting on the faded dresser just outside the bathroom.

  That uneasiness swept over him again, a little stronger this time.

  Allison moved past him, did a quick survey of the room, then turned. "The clothes I brought over for Hannah are gone so she must have taken a shower. Maybe they went to grab something to eat. Neither one of them had breakfast this morning."

  "Yeah. Maybe." He didn't believe it any more than she did.

  He led her from the bungalow, his gaze scanning the deserted compound as they made their way to the pavilion. It was fucking eerie, how quiet everything was. Nobody was around.

  Of course they weren't. It was fucking raining. Allison had explained that everyone pretty much stayed in their own bungalows on the rare occasions it rained like this because there was nowhere else for them to go.

  That knowledge did absolutely nothing to ease his edginess.

  The pavilion was deserted as well, which Ninja had expected. He went over to check the coffee pot. The machine was the kind that automatically shut off after two hours. How long had it been off? There was enough coffee left in the carafe for maybe two cups. He placed the back of his hand against the carafe. Lukewarm, which meant the machine had turned off sometime in the last hour, give or take.

  Allison moved toward the counter, reached for the mug sitting there. "This is Hannah's. It doesn't look like she even touched it. That's not like her. She doesn't function without her morning coffee. And she would have never left it sitting here like this."

  She turned to him, the first hint of fear shadowing her eyes. "Colter, what's going on?"

  "I don't know. Maybe they're in one of the other bungalows." He didn't believe it, not for a single second, but he didn't want to upset Allison more than she already was.

  He grabbed her hand and led her from the pavilion. They knocked on every single door, opened each one if nobody answered.

  No Boomer.

  No Hannah.

  In fact, the only people around besides them were Darla and Cindy, and neither woman seemed happy to see them. Ninja questioned them but it was useless—they hadn't seen anyone, hadn't heard anything, and the only thing they wanted to do was go home.

  Yeah, he knew exactly how they felt.

  He was leading Allison toward the project manager's bungalow when she tugged on his hand and pointed. "Colter, the van's gone. Do you think they went somewhere?"

  "Maybe." No. "Let's check the office."

  "We shouldn't go in there if Kevin's gone."

  "Do I look like I care?"

  She opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head. "Guess that was a stupid thing to say, huh?"

  No. What was stupid was dragging her with him—but he'd be damned if he sent her back to the bungalow by herself. Not until he figured out what the fuck was going on.

  The office was unlocked—not that it would have made any difference to Ninja. He pushed the door open then stopped so fast that Allison actually bumped into him. She peered around him then gasped in surprise.

  That gasp pretty much summed it up.

  The interior was in shambles. Every drawer in the filing cabinet had been opened, the contents removed. Paperwork was strewn over every surface. The floor, the desk, the small table pushed against the side wall. The few pictures that had been hanging on the walls had been thrown to the floor, frames bent and glass shattered.

  What the hell?

  A noise came from the back, freezing Ninja in place. He squeezed Allison's hand then released it before gently nudging her outside. She glared at him, shook her head and tried to step back in—then stopped at the steady look he leveled at her.

  Had the look frightened her? Had he inadvertently given her a glimpse into who he really was? Possibly. But he'd had no choice, had no other way to communicate what a shit show this was turning out to be.

  Convinced she would stay put, he moved through the destroyed office to the door of the project manager's private quarters. He paused outside the door, head tilted to the side as he listed. There it was again, the noise he'd heard earlier.

  A muffled shuffling sound, followed by something that sounded like...a whimper.

  What the fuck?

  Ninja didn't bother with the knob. He just jammed his shoulder against the door and forced it open. Wood splintered and cracke
d as the door swung inward, hanging at an odd angle from the destroyed hinges.

  The project manager, aka Kevin, aka Samuel Bannister, aka the sleazoid con artist from hell, was laying on the bed. Actually, he was tied spread-eagle to the bed, restraints securing each wrist and ankle to the frame. He stopped flopping around, stared at Ninja in wide-eyed terror, then tried talking through the strip of duct tape that had been placed over his mouth.

  Thank God the fucker was dressed.

  Ninja bit back a smile—a smile that only last one-point-two seconds because Allison was suddenly standing beside him. "I thought I told you to stay outside?"

  She ignored him and asked a question of her own, her nose wrinkled in distaste. "What's that smell? And what happened to him?"

  The smell was stale urine. As for what happened to him, there was only one way to find out.

  Ninja moved closer, reached down and ripped the duct tape from the little fucker's mouth. A high-pitched wail filled the room, the sound quickly morphing to a litany of whiny words. The man was spewing them so fast that Ninja couldn't understand him.

  He slapped his hand over the man's mouth, silencing him. "Shut. Up."

  The man's eyes grew a little wider but he quickly nodded.

  "I'm going to move my hand away. When I do, you don't say a fucking thing unless it's to answer my questions. Is that understood?"

  Another nod, this one a little slower.

  Ninja held the man's gaze with his own and slowly lifted his hand. A second went by, then another, each one blessedly silent.

  "What happened?"

  "It wasn't me. I swear it wasn't—mmph!" The words ended in a mumble as Ninja once again covered his mouth.

  "Let's do this again. I ask a question. You answer it. Got it? Now, who did this to you?"

  "It was Miller. He—" The man quickly shut his mouth and Ninja almost smiled. At least he was a fast learner.

  "Why did he tie you up?"

  "He—he thinks I stole the money, but I didn't. I swear I didn't."

  "You mean the money you've collected from the con you're running? Nobody stole it—it's been donated to several charities."

  "But—how did you know—"

  "Uh-uh. You don't ask the questions, I do. Was Miller involved in the con?"

  "No. No, he found about it though. Threatened to turn me in if I didn't—" The bastard's mouth snapped shut.

  "If you didn't what?"

  "I can't tell. He'll kill me if I tell."

  Ninja leaned closer, pitched his voice so only the man could hear. "And I'll kill you if you don't."

  A low whine fell from the bastard's lips. A second later, the strong smell of fresh urine filled the room. Ninja looked down, frowned in distaste at the wetness spreading across the front of the man's shorts. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "I—don't—please—"

  "Does this have anything to do with the guns?"

  Bannister's eyes widened in horrified surprise. "You know? How—"

  "Doesn't matter how."

  "But—"

  "Where's Allison's brother?"

  For a second, Ninja didn't think the man would answer. One direct look from him took care of that.

  "Miller found him snooping around. He—he made me help him take him away."

  He ignored Allison's sharp gasp. Ignored the mingled fury and concern knotting his gut. "Take him where?"

  "To—to the cave. On the beach."

  "What about Hannah? Is she there, too?"

  "Hannah?" The man frowned, shook his head. "No, we didn't do anything with Hannah. I wouldn't hurt her. Ever."

  Was he telling the truth? Yeah, he was.

  So where was she? Had Miller come back for her? But why, when she had nothing to do with any of this?

  To keep Boomer in line.

  Fuck.

  But why would he need to keep Boomer in line? Why not just get rid of him like he had the others? Because there was no doubt in Ninja's mind that Miller had been behind the two deaths—the one last week that had prompted Allison to call her brother, and Tim's death yesterday.

  So why not do the same with Boomer?

  Unless he thought Boomer could be used as some kind of bargaining chip.

  If that was the case, Miller had made a grave miscalculation. Hell, he'd made more than one. Dragging Hannah into it wouldn't keep Boomer in line—it would push him over the edge and unleash a side that Miller did not want to see.

  Ninja grabbed the roll of duct tape at the edge of the bed and pulled off a long strip. Bannister started thrashing on the bed, moving his head back and forth as that inhuman whine filled the room.

  "Please, no. He said he was coming back for me! Just let me up. I—mmph."

  Ninja slapped the tape over the man's mouth then not-so-gently patted his cheek. "Don't whine. It's not very becoming."

  He ignored the man's frantic grunts and turned, then froze at the expression on Allison's pale face.

  Anger. Surprise. Denial.

  Fear.

  Her wide gaze met his, the muscles of her slender throat working as she swallowed. "They—they have Ryder and Hannah?"

  Ninja wanted to pull her into his arms and reassure her, if only for a second. Actually moved toward her but she shook her head and backed up a step.

  Great. Fucking great. Was the fear in her eyes partly because of him? Had she seen too much?

  It didn't matter. He couldn't let it matter, not now.

  Not ever.

  "Not for long."

  "How do you know that? They could already be—"

  He stepped closer, refused to let her finish the sentence. "They're not. You need to trust in your brother, Al."

  She was quiet for a long time, her gaze never leaving his. "Are you going to get them?"

  "Yes. As soon as I get you somewhere safe."

  She was already shaking her head before the words left his mouth. Dammit, he should have expected that, even after seeing that flash of fear in her eyes.

  "I'm going with you."

  "Al—"

  "I'm going with you. What if Miller comes back? There's no place safe around here. No place for me to hide."

  And dammit, she was right. If he had time, he could construct a quick structure and hide her away somewhere outside the compound—but even that wouldn't guarantee her safety. He'd need her cooperation to stay put. That wouldn't happen, not unless he tied her up, and he couldn't do that because then she'd be at the mercy of anyone who might find her.

  And even if he trusted her to stay put—which he didn't—he didn't have the time to hide her away.

  Fuck.

  He stepped closer, let another layer of humanity drop from the carefully-constructed image he shrouded himself in. "You listen to everything I tell you. Is that clear? Everything."

  He expected her to stumble back. To turn and run. He sure as hell didn't expect her to meet his gaze—or to see the flash of stubbornness in her warm eyes.

  "Is. That. Clear?"

  "Crystal. Now let's go." She spun around and hurried outside, paused at the doorway to throw him an impatient look.

  And fuck, he was in trouble.

  Because that hadn't been fear in her eyes. At least, not fear of him as he'd thought.

  He didn't know what the fuck it was.

  And that worried him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Hannah's shoulder was wedged under his arm, supporting him. Ryder fucking hated it, wanted to nudge her away and tell her he didn't need it.

  If he did that, he'd probably keel over backward and hit his fucking head again.

  Each step was agonizing, detonating small explosions at the back of his head.

  Step.

  Boom.

  Step.

  Boom.

  Step.

  Boom.

  He braced his hand against the rough wall of the cave, sweat beading his forehead and dripping into his eyes. Fuck.

  He had to push through the pain. Fucking
ignore it until he got them out of here. He didn't have a choice.

  How far back in this damn thing were they? Not too far. At least, he didn't think so. The echo of the surf roared around them, adding to the pounding in his head. Unless that noise was his head.

  The penlight was still in his pocket. He could always pull it out, take a quick look around to get their bearings.

  No, it was too risky. There was no way of telling if anyone else was in here with them. He didn't think so—he hadn't heard anyone and with all the damn swearing he'd done, he was positive someone would have said something if they'd been in here. And just because they were alone now didn't mean they would be. For all he knew, the fucker was on his way back now.

  Which meant they needed to move. Hannah was his first priority. He had to get her to safety. After that—

  Well, after that, it was game on, fucker.

  "Ryder, you need a break. You're going to hurt yourself."

  Another step. Then another and another, each one as painful as the last. "No. Not until I get you out of here."

  "You have a concussion. You shouldn't be—"

  "I said no. It's just a concussion. I've had worse." Which was the truth. But damn if he remembered ever feeling like his head was about to roll off his shoulders. Give him a stab wound or bullet wound any day. This concussion shit was for the fucking birds.

  He eased away from Hannah, ignored her exasperated sigh as he took a halting step on his own. Christ, did she think he was fucking helpless? Yeah, probably. Could he blame her?

  No, not in this case.

  "Ryder—"

  "How far back did they bring us? Do you remember?"

  She hesitated, no doubt wondering if she should keep giving him hell or just answer the question. She finally settled on the latter, although her answer wasn't as informative as he would have liked.

  "A little past where we were hiding the other night. I think."

  Well, at least he was leading them in the right direction. That much was helpful. His brains were still so fucking scrambled, he'd been worried they were going in the wrong direction. All he had to do was keep the wall to his right and they'd eventually work their way to the entrance.

  He hoped.