I nod, but I don’t take my eyes off her. She’s still staring straight ahead, saying nothing, and it’s really scaring me. I sit down beside her, carefully taking her into my arms, grateful she doesn’t resist. She’s shivering, and I hold her tighter as turmoil twists and turns in my gut. I press a kiss to the top of her head, almost crying in relief when she leans her head on my shoulder, turning into my body for comfort.
I glance at Mike, gesturing with my eyes, and he nods, walking off to give us some privacy. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Tears flow freely down my face as she fists a hand in my shirt, clinging onto me.
“I thought he was going to rape me or kill me,” she whispers, and I openly sob.
There are so many things I want to say to her, but this isn’t the time. Now, she needs me to support her and take care of her, not listen to my pitiful apologies. So, I force my tears back inside, strengthen my resolve, and wrap my other arm around her front, keeping her real close. “You’re safe now, baby. No one is going to hurt you.”
I don’t get to ask her anything else because the medical team arrives then, and I step aside to let them do their work. I watch as they perform a variety of physical checks, clean the wound on her neck, and apply paper stitches before bandaging it.
When the cops arrive, I walk with my arm around Zeta to an office at the back of the hotel reception area. I keep Mike with us as the two detectives start asking her a bunch of questions. When they ask if she knew the man who attacked her or if he said anything which might reveal his identity, she glances briefly at me before shaking her head.
Everything goes on lockdown mode inside me, and I wipe my sweaty palms along the front of my jeans. That one look has confirmed my suspicions, but I’m trying not to let my mind go there, because I don’t want to fucking lose it in front of the cops.
When they pull up the camera feed from the garage and play back the scene, I work hard to contain my emotions. You can’t see his face, because it’s hidden behind a mask, but I’d know him anywhere. I start shaking, and I probably shouldn’t watch, but I can’t force my eyes away from the screen. When he shreds her top and shoves his hand into the front of her bra, I projectile vomit all over the floor.
I can’t stop shaking even as Mike helps me up, forcing me out of the room and into the adjoining bathroom. I rip my shirt off, twist the faucets on full, and splash cold water over my face and chest, but nothing quells the swirling tornado building inside me.
“Fuck!” I lash out at the wall, kicking it over and over. Then I slam my fist into the mirror, repeatedly, barely feeling the pain as little shards of glass embed in my skin. Mike tries to pull me back, and I swing at him, landing a glancing blow to his jaw. He grabs me into a headlock and ducks my head into the sink, directly under the flow of water, keeping me down until my inner fight has receded.
Yanking me up by my hair, he puts his face all up in mine. “Get yourself together. That girl needs you to be strong.”
“He hurt her, and it’s my fault!”
“You think I don’t fucking hate myself too? But bitching about it now isn’t going to change anything, so get your shit together and get back in there and support her.” He pushes me away, leaving the room for a couple minutes while I clean my hands and put a leash on my emotions. When he returns, he wraps my hands in bandages and hands me a clean T-shirt with the hotel logo imprinted on it.
Zeta has finished making her statement when we return. The detectives eye me circumspectly before handing me their business card, telling me to get Zeta to call if she remembers anything else.
By the time we’re in the SUV on the way back to the penthouse, I’ve somewhat gotten control of myself. The only way I can do it is to not think about him. To cradle my girl in my arms, holding her tight and whispering how much I love her.
We arrive back at my place a little after three a.m. Mike half-carries a semi-conscious Gar into one of the guest bedrooms. Scott kisses Zeta on the cheek before going to bed. Holding Zeta’s hand, I take her into the kitchen, helping her up onto a stool. I want to make her a hot drink, and I’m not letting her out of my sight. From now on, she’s going to be attached to my hip, and me to hers.
“Who is he, Ryder?” Zeta asks in a much too calm voice.
My spine stiffens, and I place both mugs down, turning to face her. My voice is shaky as I speak. “What did he say?”
“That the next time you ignore him I won’t be so lucky.”
Everything I’ve worked hard to contain detonates inside me, and I lose it as frustration and rage consume me. Swiping my hand across the kitchen counter, I knock all the contents to the floor with a loud crash. China smashes. The expensive toaster splits apart. Canisters roll, spilling their contents across the floor. The physical aggression sweeping through my veins can’t be contained. I race into the living room, tearing through the space, upending furniture, ripping paintings off their hooks, throwing glassware and ornaments at the wall and the wooden floors, watching them shatter and spray shards of glass across the room.
I’m vaguely conscious of Mike trying to pull me back. Of the other bodyguards entering the room. Of Scott shouting at me to stop. Of Zeta’s tear-stained shocked face as she watches me self-destruct.
I pick up everything that isn’t nailed down, destroying it with my fists or my feet. I even yank the TV off the wall, slamming it to the floor, enjoying the sound as it breaks into a hundred pieces.
Voices argue around me, and then her scent accosts my senses, swirling around me as her arms go around my neck. I try to push her away, but she holds on, pulling me into her body. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe.” Her soft voice penetrates soul deep, and I feel some of the anger slipping from my veins. I fall into her, exhaustion overwhelming me, and she wraps her arms around me, holding me up.
My arms snake around her, and I close my eyes, absorbing her scent and the feel of her against me, using it to bat the last vestiges of my rage away. “I let you down, when I promised I’d always protect you. I’m so sorry,” I sob, and then the dam breaks, and I’m crying. Huge, wracking sobs that rip from my very core. I cling to her, soaking her neck with my tears, crying and pleading with her for forgiveness. She’s crying too and clinging to me just as hard, and I wish I could rewind this night and get a do-over.
I don’t even remember going to bed, but the last thing I’m aware of is her curling into my chest and my arms automatically going around her as my eyes shutter.
CHAPTER 35
Zeta
Beams of golden sunlight trickle through the blinds in Ryder’s bedroom as I sit in a chair watching him toss and turn in the bed. I tried to get some sleep, but it was futile. I couldn’t switch my brain off, so I got up, made some chamomile tea and toast, and then returned to his bedroom, taking this chair and trying to make sense of the mess in my head.
Kayla called a couple hours ago, and I went up to the rooftop terrace to fill her in. She wanted to come straight over, but I told her to stay at home with her baby. I’m not good company right now, and while I know she wants to provide moral support, I need to speak with Ryder, and that’s something I need to do alone.
I cast a glance at the bed with a heavy heart. He looks so vulnerable and innocent when he sleeps, and my heart aches for him. For me. For us. Even though I’m still pissed, I can’t help hurting for him. His pain is palpable. That scary demonstration of rage last night confirms it.
I think I must be in shock or denial because whenever I think about that man from the hotel, I feel a kind of strange numbed acceptance. Whatever is going on, I just know it’s something Ryder is dealing with by himself. It’s why I didn’t tell the cops what that man said or mention anything while the others were around. I know, deep down, I’ve got new scars and that I’ll carry the attack with me for some time. But, in this moment, the only thoughts I’m focusing on, the ones occupying center stage in my brain, a
re trying to figure out who he is, how he knows Ryder, and what hold he has over my boyfriend.
If that’s what Ryder still is. Because the other events of last night haven’t been forgotten. I should be more upset over almost being raped or killed, but my brain is seriously fucked, because I’m way more upset over Ryder’s actions. The image of that bitch touching and kissing him is seared into my brain, poking little daggers into my heart every time I think of it.
Ryder stirs, crying out a little, and I wonder if I should wake him. I need answers, and he’s going to give them to me today whether he likes it or not. I lean my head back, closing my tired eyes, feeling emotionally and physically exhausted.
“Zeta.” I slowly bring my head up, opening my eyes, watching Ryder scoot up in the bed, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “How long have you been awake?”
“I never went to sleep,” I admit, tucking my knees into my chest under the blanket.
“How are you feeling?” He scrubs a hand over his stubbly jawline, pinning me with sad, remorseful eyes. “Are you okay?”
Air oozes out of my mouth in noisy spurts as I contemplate how to answer his question. My throat is dry when I finally speak. “Numb. Upset. Confused. Sad.” I shrug, because that only scratches the surface. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.” He attempts to bat my concern away.
“Don’t pretend you’re fine. That outburst of aggression last night is not the actions of someone who is fine. I’ve never seen you lose it like that.”
“I’m sorry if I scared you.” He looks instantly remorseful.
“I was only scared because I’m worried about you. What caused you to react like that? And don’t say it’s because I was randomly attacked, when we both know it’s way more than that.”
He nods slowly, pain embedded into his features. “I know I’ve some explaining to do, and I am going to tell you everything, but first, I owe you an apology.” He crawls across the bed, coming to kneel on the ground before me. His hair is sticking up adorably, and he’s naked except for his boxers, but I’m too drained to do more than acknowledge that fact. He takes my hands in his, and I let him. Tears glisten in his eyes as he stares up at me. “As long as I live, I will never forgive myself for treating you like that last night. I’m so ashamed.”
“You humiliated me.” Tears well in my eyes, spilling down over my cheeks. “And it hurt so much.”
“I messed up. Got shitfaced and lost sight of reality. Even as I was saying that shit, as I was pushing you away, I was screaming inside.” He rubs circles on the back of my hand. “But there are no excuses that make it in any way acceptable, and there’s nothing I can do to take it back. All I can do is promise it won’t happen again and show you how serious I am through my words and my actions. I’m not even asking you to forgive me, because I don’t deserve it. But I am asking that you don’t give up. I know I don’t deserve another chance, but please give me one. Please don’t leave because I love you, and I need you, and I want to prove I can take better care of you than I did last night.”
“What about her?” I spit out. “How could you let her sit there and touch you and say those things to me?” My voice breaks and a trapped sob breaks free. “Did you fuck her?”
“No! I was doing it to make you jealous, but I got rid of her the minute you left.”
“Well, I guess that makes it okay then,” I sneer, sarcasm lacing my tone.
He looks completely ashamed, and I’m glad to see it. “It was immature and cruel and completely stupid. I’m so sorry, baby.” His eyes plead with me. “I hate myself for using her to upset you like that. I’m a shitty boyfriend, but I swear to you I’ll do better. I’ll do whatever you want me to do to show you that that asshole you met last night is not who I really am. I know I need to do better to demonstrate I’m worthy of you, and I promise I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Last night will never happen again.”
I swallow over the burning lump in my throat. “I put my trust in you, and you let me down. That’s not something I can get over just because you promise it won’t happen again. You have a habit of promising me things and then letting me down.”
“That’s completely fair, and I can’t defend myself. I know I have no right to ask you to give me another chance, but you already know I’m a selfish prick, so this shouldn’t come as a surprise.”
I could tell him it is a surprise because his behavior last night seemed to confirm his love of partying took precedence over me. And while it’s nice to hear him say these things, they’re only words. Words are meaningless if they’re not true. If you can’t back them up with your actions. But I don’t articulate these thoughts because there’s a bigger picture here, one I need to understand, so any discussions about our relationship will have to take a back seat. For now.
“Who was that man, Ryder, and what is your involvement with him?”
Removing his hands from mine, he sits up on the edge of the bed and buries his head in his hands. I wait him out. Watching his chest heave and his body tense up, I still love every part of him with every part of me even though he crushed me last night.
When he lifts his head up and stares me straight in the face, he looks like a scared little boy. More vulnerable than I’ve ever seen him. The urge to comfort him is riding me hard, but I don’t move a muscle, because I need him to be honest with me.
“I was always planning on telling you this. I’d plucked up the courage to admit it on Monday, but you were still upset over the party, so I put it off.” He shakes his head. “I should’ve told you at the start, but I was scared, because there’s a very real risk you’ll want nothing more to do with me after you know.”
“Just spit it out, Ryder. Tell me everything. Hold nothing back.”
He nods slowly. “I lied to you.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and my stomach contorts sourly. “I’ve been lying to everyone pretty much my entire life.” He rubs a hand across the back of his neck, breathing deeply. “When I told you the reason why I was in juvie, I didn’t tell you the full truth.” He looks me directly in the eyes, and I see so many conflicting emotions there. “Do you ever remember hearing about Cory Barnes?”
The name rings a bell, but I frown as I search my memory for more intel. “Vaguely, but I can’t recall any of the details.”
“I was ten, so you would’ve only been nine when the story broke.” He clamps a hand down on his thigh to halt the jerking of his leg. He never loses eye contact as he starts telling me how it all went down. “Everything I told you about my mom was true, and how I roamed the streets rather than go home to that fucked-up shit. I mentioned I started hanging around with the wrong crowd, but I didn’t elaborate for a reason. Gangs were rampant in our neighborhood growing up, and everyone wanted to be in the Z-Crew, but they were close-knit, and they rarely let anyone in. To this day, I’ve no idea why Ren approached me in the first place. He was their self-appointed leader, and most of the boys in the hood were scared shitless of him. I never was. I was tall for my age, handy with my fists, and I had a reckless disregard for my own life.”
He pauses for a minute, looking pensive. “Maybe that was it, or he saw something in me that reminded me of him.” He shrugs. “He asked me to join, and I didn’t even consider turning him down. At first, I loved it. You had to be fourteen to join Z-Crew, so I thought I was the shit being inducted at such an early age. I looked up to him initially. He was seventeen, and he loved bragging about all the stuff he’d done. After a few months, I began to see a side to him I didn’t like, but I was trapped then, so I sucked it up and got on with it.”
His shudders, briefly closing his eyes. “Cory Barnes lived a few blocks away from me. His mom was a hooker too, under the control of the same pimp as my mom. There was six years separating me and Cory, but that didn’t stop his mom from leaving him with me for hours on end when she was working. It started when he was a bab
y. I was only a fucking kid, and I’d no clue how to look after a newborn, but I did my best.”
He worries his lower lip between his teeth, and I can tell how difficult this is for him, so I let him talk uninterrupted. “They moved away for a while, but when they returned, his mom started putting him out of the house when she wanted to entertain johns. He was only four, so I took him under my wing as best I could. It wasn’t a problem until I joined Z-Crew. He was always trying to follow me around, but I couldn’t have him messed up in the shit we were doing. I tried everything to get him to stop clinging to me, including bribing a few of the local girls into minding him, but he always found a way of sneaking off.”
His lower lip wobbles, and he draws several sharp breaths before continuing. “The day it all went down, I was with my crew when we robbed a local grocery store. Ren was walking away from the checkout with a bagful of cash when one of the cashiers pulled a gun out from under the register. His second in command, Johnny, saw what was happening, and he wrestled the female cashier to the ground and grabbed the gun. Ren was a crazy fucker, so he didn’t hesitate. He pumped three bullets into her. I can still remember how paralyzed with fear I was. The other guys were laughing, everyone except Vincent and me. Vincent was the second youngest in the gang at fourteen, and he was the closest I had to a friend.”
He rubs a hand over his chest, and I’m barely breathing at this stage, my insides all twisted up, fearing where this story is going. “The sound of sobbing muted everyone’s laughter. Then Cory rushed forward from his hiding place inside the front door, hugging my leg and crying for his mommy.”
A single tear rolls down his face, and it’s hard not to grab him into my arms and comfort him, but I hold back, needing to hear the rest.
“Ren was furious. He grabbed Cory by the scruff of his neck and punched him in the face. He passed out straightaway, and I was so scared he was dead.” He looks down at his hands. “It would’ve been better for him if he had’ve gone like that.”
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