Rockwell Agency: Boxset

by Dee Bridgnorth

  Chapter 5

  Ryan

  Later that day, after parting with Angela with promises to pick her up for the party, Ryan swung by Barrett’s house. He parked next to Barrett’s car and got out of his own, loping up the driveway and banging on the front door. “Yo!” he called out. “You in there?”

  Barrett opened the door almost immediately, standing there in running shorts and no shirt, a hand towel draped across the back of his neck. Dragon shifters were naturally well-muscled people, and the Rockwell line was particularly fit. Barrett stood a head taller than the rest of them, and his muscled body would have been impressive in any competition. But Ryan hardly noticed what his friend was wearing or what he looked like. Dragon shifters became immune to each other’s bodies in many ways because shifting between human form and dragon form usually resulted in a lot of nakedness. It was part and parcel of their lives.

  “Hey—I just got back in from a run,” Barrett said. “You almost missed me.”

  Ryan walked into the house, which Barrett kept spotless at all times. The clean, modern lines of the home fit Barrett’s no-nonsense personality perfectly, and the strong, bold colors—the black couch, the white rug, and the few green accents here and there—told Barrett’s personal story well. “I just swung by to tell you that I picked up a client today,” Ryan said, kicking off his shoes and walking over to the plush, white rug and sinking his feet into it. It was his favorite thing in Barrett’s house.

  “Oh yeah?” Barrett asked, smirking slightly as Ryan moved his feet around in the rug. “How’d that happen?”

  “Woman walked into the agency,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Very hesitant. Wanted help but didn’t know how to ask for it. In a way, I think she was hoping that no one would be there, and she’d be able to say she tried to meet with someone but couldn’t.”

  Barrett nodded, walking over and leaning a shoulder up against the archway between the living room and the front hall. “Not that uncommon. Average case or supernatural case?”

  “I’m not sure yet,” Ryan said. “She’s losing time—like blacking out for hours. No idea why or what she does during that time. Could be psychological. Could be supernatural.”

  “That’s a strange thing to come to a private investigation firm about.”

  Ryan nodded. “I think there’s more that she hasn’t told me yet. And, apparently, she got our name on recommendation from a friend.”

  “Always nice to get a referral,” Barrett said. “So, you’re on the case. Good. What’s the first step?”

  “Well, she wants me to spend the weekend with her.”

  “That moved fast,” Barrett teased. “I thought you had a full dance card these days—all these women lining up to spend an evening with Louisiana rock star Ryan Minton.”

  Ryan chuckled, plopping himself down on the black couch and stretching out, making himself comfortable. “You’re not wrong. But it’s not that kind of invitation. She’s an academic. She wants someone to study her during one of these states and tell her what she does. And why she does it. Oh—and she’s from England.”

  Barrett’s eyebrows lifted. “Interesting. Our first international client, then.”

  “Something like that,” Ryan said, thinking back to Angela and her wide eyes and pretty lips. “She’s interesting. Very interesting. Very…repressed. She wanted to spend the whole weekend in her student housing apartment. I don’t know what we’d do there—hold our breath and see if she blacks out? Anyway, I convinced her to let me make the plans for tonight, so we’re going to a crawfish boil nearby here and hopefully getting some drink in her and a little bit of dancing. She needs to cut loose.”

  “And you’re the man for that,” Barrett said. “Is she signed on as an official client?”

  “Thought we could handle that Monday.”

  Barrett pushed away from the arch he was leaning on and walked into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a cold water bottle in his hand. He took a long drink from it and wiped his mouth with his forearm. “That’s fine,” he said. “Just make sure that it does all get processed on Monday and that you account for your time this past weekend. It’s not a money thing—but it’ll be chaos if we start slipping up with keeping records. Dad must have told me a thousand times to make sure that I paid attention to the details of the agency and not just the excitement of the cases.”

  “You got it,” Ryan said, standing up again and dusting his jeans off. “I’d better go pick her up. She wanted me to stick with her from the moment she left the agency, but I had to get some things in order. She’s very nervous.”

  “Wouldn’t you be too if you were losing hours to nothing?” Barrett asked, taking another drink of his water. “Feel free to bring her around here tomorrow if you’re still babysitting her.”

  “Oh yeah,” Ryan said, smacking a hand against his forehead. “I completely forgot.” Barrett had invited everyone who worked at the agency, plus a number of other Rockwell Clan members over to his house the following day for food and fun. Ryan had been looking forward to it, but when Angela had walked in and made her proposal for the weekend, it hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Shit—yeah. I’ll see if she is up for it. But is that a good idea? A bunch of dragon shifters and Angela Winston?”

  Barrett laughed. “It’s just a party. There will be other non-shifters present too. People bringing dates and whatnot. It’s not going to be dragon-themed or anything.”

  “Gotcha,” Ryan said, slapping Barrett on the shoulder, as he jogged for the door. “I’ll probably bring her then. See you later.”

  He left the house, waving a hand behind him, and got back into his car. It was a short drive to Angela’s little apartment, but Ryan blasted his music anyway, drumming his hands on the steering wheel as he cruised through familiar streets. When he pulled into her parking lot, though, Angela was already down on the sidewalk, waiting for him.

  Ryan killed the engine and got out of the car, walking over to her. She looked as incredible as the first time he had seen her, except now she was in a medium-length denim skirt that hugged her hips and a mustard-colored tank top that fell loosely and tucked into the high waist of her skirt. He could feel his reaction to her as he drank in the sight of those long, toned, slim legs. He didn’t let his gaze linger on the full curve of her breast or the hint of cleavage she was showing because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from staring openly. She was beautiful—but without being loud about it. She was effortlessly sexy, with hair that tumbled around her shoulders and eyes that watched him nervously as he approached her.

  “I would have come up for you,” he told her, stopping in front of her with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. “You didn’t have to wait down here.”

  “I just thought this would be easier,” Angela said. “Am I dressed all right?”

  “You’re dressed perfectly,” Ryan said, with deep sincerity. “We’re going to a crawfish boil.”

  Angela’s eyebrows lifted. “You mean …the shrimp with the heads on?”

  Ryan laughed, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Uh, yeah. I guess so. They’re not shrimp, though. Have you not had one?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “Well, maybe there will be some bangers and mash there, too,” Ryan said, putting his hand lightly on her arm to lead her to the passenger side door. He opened it for her, nodding for her to get in. “Come on. Be adventurous.”

  “I’m really not sure about this,” she said, getting into the car anyway. “I’m not sure I should be around a lot of strangers in an unfamiliar situation.”

  Ryan shook his head at her. “What happened to trusting me?”

  She didn’t have an answer for that, and he didn’t wait for one anyway. Closing her door, he rounded to the other side of the car, got in, and cranked the engine on. As he pulled out onto the main road, he looked over at her, seeing that she was sitting with her legs crossed and her fingers laced together in her lap, chewing on her botto
m lip as she stared out the window.

  “Hey,” he said, his tone gentler. “Relax, okay? I’m here, and I’m pretty good at taking care of people. You stick right next to me tonight, and you won’t have any problems. And if you do, I promise I’ll fix them.”

  Angela turned her head, meeting his eyes. She smiled slightly. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually this much of a …what’s the phrase here? A stick in the mud. I always am a little bit, but this is excessive. I’ve been worried, and I’m not sure I’m doing the right thing.”

  “Of course you’re worried,” Ryan said, merging onto the highway. “To be anything else would be crazy, and you are not crazy.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do,” Ryan said, firmly. “We’re going to figure it out, Angela. I promise. And in the meantime, we’re going to have a little bit of fun. Deal?”

  She hesitated for only a moment. “Deal.”

  Chapter 6

  Angela

  “I was wrong.”

  Ryan turned toward her, bending down so that his ear was closer to her. The crowd around them was loud, and the music in the background was even louder. “What?” Ryan asked, cupping a hand around his ear.

  “I was wrong,” Angela said louder, trying to make her voice heard over the music.

  “What?”

  Angela sighed and raised her voice as high as it would go. “I was wrong!”

  Ryan smirked at her. “Yeah, I heard you the first time. I just wanted to see how many times you would say it.”

  “Hilarious,” Angela said, rolling her eyes at him in amusement. “Do you even want to know what I was wrong about?”

  “Everything?”

  She held up the crawfish she was holding between two fingers. “This. I was wrong about this. These are delicious.”

  “See,” Ryan said. “I told you to trust me.”

  “I’m still not sold on the rest of it,” she said, gesturing around them. “It’s very loud here, and there are a great deal of people all in one place. Are there any fire hazard codes here that we’re breaking?”

  “Clearly you need a drink,” Ryan said. “People who have had a drink do not worry about fire hazard codes.”

  “I’m not sure I can navigate the delicate procedure of peeling a crawfish if I have a drink,” Angela said, but she followed him towards the bar anyway and nodded when he ordered her a beer. “Whose party is this anyway?” she asked, looking around the crowded backyard. “Do you know all these people?”

  Ryan shook his head. “None of them, really. It’s a former client’s party. I hadn’t planned to come, actually, because I figured I’d still be working on my office project, but it seemed like the perfect place for you and I to conduct our experiment.”

  Angela winced, hating to be reminded of the reason that she was here. “I’m not sure I like being experimented on. I’m usually the experimenter.”

  “Well, think of this as your ultimate experiment,” Ryan said, handing her the beer that the bartender slid over to him. He cracked it open for her and put it in her hand. “We’re going to eat crawfish, and drink beer, and dance, and have a good time. We’re going to forget about everything that you’re worried about. And if—if—something does happen, like you expect it to, then I’m here. And while I’m here, you have nothing to worry about.”

  It was easy to believe him, because he spoke so confidently. Ryan was the kind of person who was wholly at ease in his own body and with his own person. He had a twang to his voice that made everything he said seem casual and relaxed. His eyes were constantly alight with interest and he had this unassuming way of draping himself against whatever was nearby and watching the world pass.

  There was more chill in his little finger than Angela had in her whole body, and she envied him for it. Maybe it was her own anxiety and intensity that was forcing her brain to check out on her, just to get a break from being responsible for her thoughts. It was a possibility she hadn’t considered, but now that it occurred to her, it wasn’t all that farfetched.

  “You’re frowning again,” Ryan said, smiling. “Come on. Take a drink.”

  Angela did, lifting her beer and letting the hoppy liquid pass her lips. It was cool and refreshing, and she savored the flavor as it spilled down her throat.

  “Ryan! Oh my God!”

  Angela gripped her beer tighter as someone jostled her from the side, pushing past her to throw her arms around Ryan’s neck. All Angela caught a glimpse of was blonde hair, and tan skin, and a figure poured into a fitted red dress that stopped mid-thigh.

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” the woman said, pulling back from Ryan, then laughing and hugging him again. “I haven’t seen you in a million years! How are you?”

  “Beth,” Ryan said easily, returning the multiple hugs and then taking a step back, the same cool, calm, and collected persona unshaken. “Good How are you?”

  “I’m so good,” Beth said, still gripping Ryan’s arm. “Oh my God. How long has it been—really? I mean, we both live in this town and yet—wow! We never see each other.”

  Ryan smiled at the woman, but Angela, who was studying his face intently, thought that his smile was a bit forced around the edges.

  “Well, it’s not that small of a town,” Ryan said, lightly. “And I stay pretty busy. Beth, this is my friend, Angela.” Ryan turned towards Angela, bringing her closer with his hand at the small of her back. It was a surprisingly intimate touch, and Angela felt a tingle along her skin as Ryan maneuvered her. “Angela, this is Beth.”

  “Oh, hi,” Beth said, still beaming. She was a pretty girl—there was no doubt. All suntan, and bare skin, and blonde hair. She had on a lot of makeup, with dark-rimmed eyes and lips so glossy that she couldn’t possibly afford to actually eat a crawfish or drink a beer, lest she waste an entire tube of lip gloss. “Ryan and I went to school together eons ago. I’ve known him since third grade! But he’s terrible at staying in touch—just terrible.”

  Angela forced her own smile, knowing that it wouldn’t be nearly as convincing as Ryan’s. “Hello,” she said, nodding at the woman. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Oh, you’re French!”

  “English,” Angela said, trying to keep her tone neutral. “I’m from Bristol.”

  “How exotic,” Beth said, touching Angela’s arm. “Well, I’m glad Ryan has someone to hang out with. You know, he never hangs out with the people he went to school with. He’s very mysterious that way. You didn’t even show up to Wyatt’s memorial the other day, and he and Wyatt were very close.”

  Ryan’s hand was on Angela’s back again, his arm sliding around her waist this time. Angela could feel the tension radiating from him, and it was more than clear that he wanted out of this conversation immediately.

  “Beth, if you’ll excuse us,” Ryan said, easing Angela away with him. “I have a few people I need to introduce Angela to.”

  They walked quickly away, navigating the crowd with Ryan’s arm around her waist. Angela could barely keep hold of her plate and her beer as they weaved in and out, but they eventually stopped at the far edge, by the fence of the large yard.

  “Sorry,” Ryan muttered, not quite looking at her. “I had to get out of there.”

  “Bad breakup?” she asked, wondering what about Beth had turned such a laid-back, happy-go-lucky man into such a nervous one.

  He laughed slightly, but it wasn’t a humorous sound. “Uh, I guess you could put it that way. If you wanted to. I didn’t know she was going to be here tonight. Baton Rouge is a big town until it’s a much too small one. Let’s talk about you. How are you feeling?”

  Angela decided not to press the issue. Clearly Ryan didn’t care for Beth, and that was fine by Angela. Beth was the kind of girl who Angela had never been able to understand, and she didn’t like the thought of Ryan being trapped under the spell of tanned, toned bodies and hair flips. It was an unjustified thought, because she didn’t know Beth at all, and she had no ownership of Ryan either
. But it was how she felt, nonetheless. “Uh, I feel fine,” she said, quickly taking stock of herself. “But I always do. It’s not like I can feel an episode coming on.”

  “Any chance you’re ready to tell me about that evidence that someone presented you with?” Ryan asked. “You mentioned it briefly, in my office. I got the feeling you didn’t want to provide details.”

  Angela felt a little sick to her stomach at the memory of that horrible video, and she shook her head. “If you want me to relax tonight, that is not the way to go about it. That video is the stuff of my nightmares. I really am not ready to talk about it.”

  “Okay,” Ryan said, not pressing the issue. “In that case—let’s dance.”

  “Huh?” Angela asked, glancing toward the dance floor area of the enormous backyard. She briefly wondered what kind of person lived like this, with so much space and so much money to pour into a party. “Dance? Now?”

  Ryan nodded. “That’s right. We either dance or talk about the video. Your choice.”

  “Dance,” Angela said quickly, buying into his false, either-or scenario. “I’ll dance.”

  Taking her plate and beer from her, he set both on one of the many tables set around the yard. “Deal. Come on.”

  Ryan took her hand in his and pulled her towards the dance floor. He spun her around as they reached the edge of the crowd, then pulled her towards him, his arm encircling her waist again. He was a natural dancer, and all of his ease and confidence came rushing back as he picked up the beat of the song and deftly walked the line between cool and cheesy as he danced her around.

  Angela found herself laughing as she did her best to keep up with him. He had rhythm flowing through his veins, and she definitely did not. But it was easy enough to let him lead, and soon she had caught the beat as well and they were dancing in sync, their bodies brushing up against each other now and then.

  “You’re good,” Ryan said in her ear, as he pulled her close. His arm snaked around her waist and his other hand claimed hers as he brought her right up against him and transitioned into a simple box-step-style dance, so they could talk. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you were having fun.”