Unauthorized Deception

by Lisa Ladew

  Ivy sucked in a breath. It was worse than she could possibly have imagined. But everything made sense now. The note. The disappearing act. The claim that he didn’t want to be a cop anymore.

  “But why?”

  “He wants me to do something for him — I’m not totally sure what yet. But it has something to do with blowing up the federal prison and freeing Fiore Savoy and everyone else in the family that has been arrested.”

  Ivy pushed herself straight up on the couch. “Oh my God, is he an idiot?”

  Ryker laughed. “Us Savoys have never been accused of being smart. Strong? Yes. Driven? Yes. Evil? Maybe. But smart? No.”

  Ivy grabbed his shirt and pulled her face close to his. “You’re not a Savoy, Ryker.”

  “Close enough,” he muttered, his eyes closing.

  Ivy tried again. “You might be related to them Ryker, but you aren't one of them.”

  Ryker grunted, his eyes still closed.

  Ivy's mind worked furiously. “Why does he think you can help him blow up the prison?”

  “I worked bomb disposal in the army before I went to military police. I was never fast with the calculations and that’s why I changed jobs. It got kind of old after a while, constantly being reminded that I was the stupidest person in the unit, but I can do it alright and he knows it. He just has to get his hands on enough explosive. Oh, and somehow get us past the snipers and the brick wall surrounding the prison.”

  “I can help you Ryker. We can go to Hunter—”

  Ryker sat up so quickly that Ivy almost spilled to the floor. He grabbed her arms and stared into her eyes. “We can’t go to Hunter. If Brandon is arrested… If he doesn't check in with whoever has Ma and Roxie, even once …” He collapsed again onto the couch. “We have to do this his way. And I’ve got someone working trying to figure out where they are.”

  “Who?”

  Ryker shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. But what matters is if I can trust you. Ivy, you have to promise me that you won’t tell any police anything. Even Jen. She’s too close to Hunter.”

  Ivy nodded. “I promise.”

  “Good. And you have to go home. Maybe you can help me from there. Search on the computer. But you can’t stay here.”

  “I’m not leaving Ryker. But I’ll help you if I can. Search what on the computer?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nothing. But he let me talk to them tonight for a minute. On Skype. I couldn’t tell anything about the room they were in. There was a dark curtain behind them. He called the guy Victor. That’s a common name. But maybe it’s someone we can connect to him— ”

  But Ivy wasn’t listening anymore. Hope bloomed in her chest. Could it be that easy? She whipped her head around towards him and peered eagerly into his face. “Skype? Really? On a computer?”

  “No, on his phone.”

  “Ryker, I can trace a Skype user. All I need is his phone. I can trace the IP address and figure out where they are!”

  Ryker groaned disbelievingly and opened his eyes. “For sure? 100%?”

  “Well, if the guy on the other end used a proxy, maybe all I can get is a city. But if he didn’t … I can get an exact address! It’ll be illegal for me to do it, but I can do it.”

  Ryker stared at her and Ivy saw a dozen emotions cross his face. Fear. Hope. Elation. Fear again. And then something she couldn’t quite identify. His eyes shimmered and one fat tear slid down his left cheek. She leaned forward and kissed it away. He hugged her to him and whispered fiercely in her ear. “Ivy you’re amazing. Thank God you didn’t listen to me.”

  Ivy smiled. “I’m good at that.”

  He pulled back. “OK, we just have to get his phone. When he comes back here. He has to sleep sometime, right?”

  Ivy nodded, but in her mind she saw that little baggie Brandon pulled out of his pocket.

  “How long do you think they will be?”

  “Hours maybe.” He sat back again and put his hands behind his head. “I really could use some sleep.”

  Ivy snuggled into his chest again, terrified, but happy at the same time. Somehow, being close to Ryker just seemed to make things OK. Even though things were as far as possible from OK. She looked up at him and stretched her neck, planting a soft kiss on his chin. He peeked at her with one eye and bent his head, kissing her gently on her lips. Ivy marveled that her body didn’t care at all how much danger they were in. It responded to Ryker’s touch swiftly and decisively, her blood pooling in her lower belly, tingles racing up and down her spine.

  He traced a finger above her ear, through the shorter hair there. “Your hair looks gorgeous,” he whispered softly. Ivy’s insides warmed at the compliment. She loved that he loved how she looked. “So how did you find me anyway?” he asked.

  “Do you believe it was just a coincidence?” she said, placing his hat on the coffee table and twining her fingers through his hair. Ryker shifted his body to the left and pressed against her. His tongue explored her mouth expertly and his hand brushed lightly up her side, sliding over her breast and making her gasp. Ryker’s mouth pressed on hers more urgently, almost forcefully. She whimpered, her body loving it, but her mind protesting a little bit. He’d never been like this. He’d always been gentle as could be with her. But he wasn’t himself right now. She could tell with every movement he made. His hands moved down her body again, roughly, pressing against her, the pressure uncomfortable. His teeth clashed against hers and she pulled back from him, her lips trembling. Ryker’s eyes looked through her, as if he weren’t even there. And then they focused and he saw her, really saw her. The fire in his eyes softened and his face collapsed into regret.

  “Ah dammit,” he cursed, standing and pacing. “I’m sorry, Ivy. I’m just so stressed right now.”

  Ivy stood up and grabbed his hand, pulling him back to the couch. “It’s OK. It’s not your fault. I understand.” She pushed him into a semi-reclined position and tried to rub his neck again. “Just sleep. That’s what you need. We’ll sleep until they come back. And then we’ll get Brandon’s phone. And then we’ll find your mom and your sister.”

  She felt Ryker relax a little bit with every sentence she said. She kept rubbing and pressing on his muscles, rolling them with her palms until his breathing finally deepened and he fell off into sleep.

  ***

  Ivy awoke with a start. Noises drifted through the front door. A woman talking. She looked at Ryker. His eyes were open and he watched the door intently. Early morning light streamed in the windows.

  “Goddammit,” the voice said. “You left my fucking door unlocked.” The knob twisted and Dawn spilled in the room, her hair and makeup a mess. “Oh,” she said, seeing Ivy and Ryker on the couch. “That’s why. No one’s gonna rob the place with the barbarian and his little tart here.”

  She headed straight for the kitchen. Brandon closed the door and watched her go, his face set in a grim line. “Fucking bitch,” he said under his breath. Ivy’s hope that the two of them would retire quickly to a bedroom and fall asleep faded quickly.

  Brandon dropped on a couch across the room. He pulled his baggie out of his pocket again and looked at it. “Come on Ryker, we’ve got work to do. Get up.”

  “No way, man, I need at least three more hours before I’m worth anything.” Ryker leaned back and closed his eyes, like he was in his bed at home.

  Brandon sneered and shoved his baggie back in his pocket with short, angry movements. “You get one hour. Then we’re out.” He stood up and followed Dawn into the kitchen. Ivy could hear him talking softly. She froze on the couch, barely able to breathe. How was she going to get her hands on Brandon’s phone? A snore escaped Ryker and she looked down at him incredulously. He really was asleep again?

  Ten minutes later, Brandon pulled Dawn giggling down the hallway. Ivy shook her head. They’d made up apparently. She waited a few minutes then slid quietly off the couch, being careful not to jostle Ryker. She crept down the hallway and stopped at the closed door, pressing her ea
r against it. The headboard inside the room slammed rhythmically against the wall, overlaid with heavy breathing.

  She felt something behind her and whirled around. Ryker was standing there, his eyebrows raised. This wasn’t the first time Ivy had been surprised at how quiet a man as large as Ryker could be. He had a grace about him, perhaps cultivated because of his size. She waved him off and dropped down to the doorknob, hoping for a keyhole to look through. No such luck. She’d just have to wait until they were done, then pray they fell asleep. Then she would sneak in and find Brandon’s phone.

  She tiptoed back down the hallway and met Ryker on the couch.

  “If they fall asleep, I’ll go in and get his phone,” he said.

  Ivy looked at him, surprised. “Don’t you think it’s a better idea if I do it?”

  “No way. You’re not doing it.”

  Ivy huffed out a breath in frustration. Ryker took her hands. “Look Ivy, Brandon needs me. He doesn’t need you. There is no way you are going to give him any reason to get pissed off at you. I’m doing it, and that’s final.”

  Ivy stood up, unreasonably angry at Ryker for giving her any sort of an ultimatum about anything, even if he made perfect sense.

  She stalked into the kitchen, intent on looking for something to eat.

  A phone. On the counter.

  She ran back out. “Ryker, what does Brandon’s phone look like?” she whispered fiercely.

  He eyed her suspiciously. “I'm not telling you.”

  She blew out a breath and grabbed his hand, pulling him into the kitchen. “Is that it? Or is that Dawn’s?”

  “Holy God, that’s it. I can’t believe it.” He picked it up and handed it to Ivy.

  She turned it in her hands and smiled triumphantly at him. He smiled back. She pressed the button and swiped the screen, praying it wasn’t locked. It wasn’t. She found the Skype icon and tapped it, then showed the screen to Ryker, pointing out the top user name: HottVictor. “Was this who he called?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Stand guard. I’ll need at least a few minutes. And then I’ll need to go home to my computer.”

  Ryker took off to the living room, the relief in his eyes obvious.

  Chapter 7

  Ryker put Ivy in a taxi and stood on the sidewalk watching her be driven away, his heart in her pocket. He held his hand up in a wave until the taxi turned a corner and disappeared, then he turned towards the house, anger dropping over him like a shroud.

  The door opened and Brandon stuck his head out. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

  “Nothing,” Ryker growled. He walked up the steps, pushed past Brandon, and dropped onto the couch.

  “Where’s your girlfriend?” Brandon asked, his voice mean.

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  Brandon grunted. Ryker prayed that Brandon hadn’t noticed anything that would make him think Ivy actually did mean something to him. He closed his eyes, his face set in unreadable stone. He heard Brandon head into the kitchen.

  “If you want some food, you better get in here. We leave as soon as I eat a sandwich,” Brandon called.

  The last thing Ryker wanted was to eat Brandon’s food. But his stomach rumbled uncomfortably. He hadn’t eaten in forever. He stood reluctantly and made his way in to the kitchen where Brandon had cold cuts, buns, and condiments spread out on the counter.

  Ryker started making himself a sandwich. “Where we going?” he asked Brandon.

  “Good news. While I was waiting to bail Dawn out I finally got ahold of an old friend of Uncle’s. He’s going to help us with our project.”

  Great, Ryker thought, rolling his eyes. I’m so glad we can move forward on this ridiculous plan.

  ***

  An hour later, Ryker was sitting in the passenger seat of Brandon’s truck, listening to him sing along to Achy Breaky Heart. He stared out of the window and tried hard to keep his cool. All he could think about was stabbing a fork in Brandon’s adam's apple, but he didn’t have a fork. And he needed to focus. They were heading out of town towards a suburb. Ryker took a deep breath to focus his thoughts and played with the phone he had resting on his leg. He wondered if Brandon would notice if he took some pictures. He wanted to be able to find his way back here.

  Ryker turned the shutter sound off and pretended to just be playing with the phone. Every time they took a turn he pointed the phone at the street signs and tried to get a picture. He wished he had a photogenic memory, like Ivy. This would be so much easier. Ivy. He would have to find a way to break away and call her in a few hours. She said to give her at least that long to try to get the address where his mom and sister were being held. His thoughts drifted a little. Ivy. How did he get so lucky for her to notice him? To date him? If he got out of this alive and she still wanted to be with him, he was going to do something big for her. Something grand. Take her to Paris. Or buy her a puppy. Or … Ryker’s thoughts broke off as Brandon pulled into a driveway.

  Ryker twisted slightly in his seat to see the address. 482. And the last street sign he’d photographed said Parker Street. Brandon stopped, twisted the key to turn off the engine and got out. “Come on.”

  Ryker exited his door and shot a quick picture of the mailbox, reciting 482 in his head several times just in case. He followed Brandon to the door. It seemed strange to him that the sun should be rising and the birds chirping cheerfully as if this were a good day. In Ryker’s mind, the sun should never shine again until Ma and Roxy were home and Brandon could never hurt anyone again.

  The front door of the small rancher-style house swung open before Brandon even knocked on it. So they were expected. Ryker considered trying to take a picture of the old, scraggly-looking man inside the door, but decided against it. The old guy might catch him. The man wore an ancient army jacket with lots of pockets and drawstrings. He looked straight past Brandon and fixed his stare on Ryker. Ryker saw cold calculation and mistrust in that gaze. He returned both.

  “This him?” the old guy asked.

  “Yeah. Monroe, Ryker. Ryker, Monroe.”

  Ryker burned holes in Monroe with his eyes, refusing him the courtesy of a proper greeting. Monroe didn’t seem to care. He retreated in the house and Brandon followed. Ryker took one last look around at the quiet street and went inside.

  The house was dark, gloomy, and smelled like wet dog. Monroe walked quickly, and was halfway down a set of hidden stairs on the far side of the dark room before Ryker and Brandon’s eyes adjusted to the low light. “Come on,” he barked.

  They followed him into a dark, unfinished basement with workbenches lining two walls and tarps covering piles of bulky items on the other walls. Monroe directed them to the bigger workbench where large pieces of paper littered the top of it.

  Ryker looked closely. The top piece of paper was a blueprint of a sprawling building. Monroe tapped a large room on the blueprint. “I want to take out this area.”

  Take out? Ryker bent farther over the piece of paper, examining it. The building looked familiar somehow.

  “OK,” Brandon said. “And how much is it worth to you?”

  “I told you, I can get as much explosives as you need. I’ve got a connection.”

  Brandon nodded. “I’ll need the stuff before we do your job.”

  Monroe looked at him suspiciously. “Half before. Half after.”

  Fireworks went off in Ryker’s head. “This is Westwood Preparatory Academy!” he yelled. His old high school.

  Monroe and Brandon turned to him, Monroe’s eyes were narrowed suspiciously. “Yeah,” he said, his voice tight.

  A dozen questions bounced around Ryker’s skull. But he knew what the answer to all of them was. This guy was going to blow up a high school. He bit back each question and tried to keep his cool. What in the hell was he going to do?

  Ryker turned back to the blueprints, so Monroe and Brandon couldn’t see the disgust and horror in his face. Oh Ivy, he chanted inside his head, please find my mom and Roxy. I
can’t blow up a school. I can’t.

  “When do you want the school done?” Brandon asked.

  “Monday.”

  Monday? The day after tomorrow? This just gets better and better, Ryker thought bitterly.

  “Not bad then. We’ll talk after we get the first half,” Brandon said.

  “How much do you need?” Monroe asked.

  Brandon looked at Ryker, eyebrows raised.

  “How much of what? And for what?” Ryker asked. “You haven’t exactly shared your plan with me,” he hissed through his teeth, barely able to contain his anger. He wondered if constant, raging anger like this could cause a 26 year old man to have a heart attack.

  Brandon flashed him a warning look, then turned to Monroe. “Can we talk in private for a few moments? We’ll go outside,” he said, gesturing to himself and Ryker.

  Monroe nodded. Ryker followed Brandon outside. They blinked their eyes against the strong morning sun.

  “He can get us as much C4 as we want. And I thought you already figured it out. I want to blow up the prison. Get Uncle Fiore out of jail.”

  Ryker shook his head at the stupidity, gripping his trembling hands at his sides. “You want to use C4 to blow up a prison, but not blow up the people you are trying to break out. And this is your plan to break 40 people out of jail?”

  “Not 40. Just Uncle Fiore. And a few others. He says if we can create a diversion at the right time, he can get out through the front door. He has people that are going to help him. We just have to have a car and a diversion.”

  Ahh, so Fiore Savoy was actually spearheading this escape attempt from the inside. That changed things.

  “I can’t tell you how much C4 you need until I know exactly what you want to do. And I need to see blueprints of the prison. Do some calculations.”

  “I don’t have blueprints here. I’ll tell you the plan and then you give me an estimate. Over-estimate, just in case. You heard him. We can get as much as we want. All we have to do is help him with his job.”