Dear Diamond

by Walls, Stephie

  I couldn’t help but grin as he unlocked three deadbolts, yet he’d just left an expensive helmet sitting outside. Acknowledging the need for three locks sobered me instantly and reminded me that Ryker and I weren’t out for a joyride. He wasn’t a guy who’d taken me on a date and now we were back at his place to fool around. The man was a stranger. And a scary one at that. On my turf, it was easy to live confidently. I knew what it took to survive on the sidewalks, who to avoid, and how to stay safe. Here, with this guy, all bets were off.

  The door opened, he stepped over the threshold, and with the swipe of his hand, he bathed us in light. I followed, not quite certain it was any safer behind his closed door than it was exposed to whatever lay outside it. With the locks secured behind me, each one sounded like a nail in a coffin I wouldn’t be able to escape. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the apartment as my lungs struggled to fill with air. My chest heaved, and I warred with the panic attack that threatened to consume me. No matter how many times I told myself this guy wasn’t going to hurt me, my brain refused to believe it.

  “Nikki?”

  I jerked away when he reached for my arm. Refusing to meet him eye to eye, I attempted to focus on settling my breathing and calming my erratic heart.

  He held up his hands in surrender and bent at the knees. In an awkward display, he peered up at me from underneath my downturned head. “Talk to me.”

  I clutched my chest, unable to answer.

  My field of vision narrowed, and my lips began to tingle. If I didn’t get ahold of myself, I’d pass out. Whether he recognized what was happening or not, he acted. In the blink of an eye, he’d secured both of my shoulders in his hands, stood upright, and tilted me back slightly to force me to pay attention.

  “Take a deep breath.” He watched intently and waited. “Come on, Nikki. Breathe.”

  I forced myself to swim in the pools of chocolate without thinking about who they belonged to. With each breath of his that I mimicked, I got a little more lost in the brown. It might have been two minutes or twenty; whichever, Ryker had brought me back to this side of sanity with the patience of Job. I didn’t even want to consider how neurotic he must think I was. So when he urged me toward the only seat in the living room, I followed. The worn leather recliner had seen better days, but once my body landed in the chair, it became obvious why he’d kept it. What I couldn’t figure out was why there was nothing else in the room. Not even a television.

  Ryker squatted in front of me with his hands on my knees. “You going to be okay for a minute? I need to call Chase.”

  My eyes went wide. “Silvano?” I practically shrieked.

  “Chill, Nikki. He’s my best friend. I need to let him know what’s going on.”

  I’d never shook my head as fast as I opposed that idea. “You can’t.”

  His forehead wrinkled with concern. “I have to make sure he gets in touch with his grandfather. I can’t depend on Sam to deliver an accurate message. Trust me, this is far safer than hoping Jesse finds out that I asked him to call me instead of making him find me.”

  The stern expression on his face confirmed that there would be no dissuading him. It was pointless to argue. I’d placed my fate in his hands when I’d followed his instructions instead of Sam’s; now I had to deal with the fallout. “Okay.” That one word was barely a whisper and the most difficult I had ever uttered.

  Ryker stood, towering over me. I couldn’t read him. Although, I couldn’t imagine it meant good things for him to pull out his cell phone and leave the room. Whatever he had to say, he didn’t want me to hear. The door closing confirmed that notion.

  I had expected him to be gone longer, and I absolutely hadn’t expected him to return in nothing other than basketball shorts slung low on his hips. Jesus, he had the body of a Greek god that had been painted by Michelangelo. Saliva pooled in my mouth, and I had to mentally remind myself to stop staring.

  “That was fast.” I didn’t feel comfortable asking what had happened and hoped that one sentence prompted him to tell me.

  He leaned against the counter in the kitchen. “Chase didn’t answer. I sent him a text.” He held up his cell. “I’m waiting for him to respond.”

  I had zero patience. I needed resolution to whatever this was. “So, I can’t go home?” I already knew I couldn’t. I just wanted it to be someone else’s decision rather than my own. If Ryker told me he didn’t think it was safe, then it wasn’t me who’d imposed on his night.

  He gave me a look that had me regretting the question. Clearly, I wasn’t leaving before he talked to Chase or Jesse.

  “I know my apartment isn’t much, but it’s the only place I know I can keep you safe. Until I work shit out with Jesse, I don’t want you leaving.” In Ryker’s mind, that decision had been made—not so much in my own.

  “At all?”

  He slid his phone across the counter. “Not even to smell the flowers.”

  “This place has flowers?” I shouldn’t be a smartass. Not now.

  “The lady next door has a couple pots by her front door.” He placed his hands behind him on the countertop, and every muscle from his shoulders to his abdomen flexed. “I know it’s not fancy, but the place is clean, and the bed is comfortable.”

  Bed. That was singular. Taking in the space, I hoped I’d missed some of the apartment and that there was a hidden door that led to another room…with another bed. There wasn’t even a couch. And as cozy as this chair was, I doubted sleeping on it would provide any actual rest.

  Ryker must have sensed my discomfort. “I’m not going to try to get in your pants.”

  “Even if you wanted to, it would never happen,” I scoffed.

  He pushed off the counter, sauntered across the room, and got right up in my business. With his hands on the back of the chair on either side of my head, he pushed on the leather, tilting me and leaning in as he went. “If I wanted it, you wouldn’t want to resist it.”

  I folded my arms over my chest in what little space remained between us and pulled my head back. “You’re quite confident for a man who picks up women in a strip joint.”

  “I don’t pick up women…anywhere.”

  Without calling him a liar, I chuckled and raised my brows.

  “Like I said, I have no intention of touching you. Protecting you doesn’t mean fucking you.”

  Well, that was crass. And to the point. “Noted.” It came out far breathier than I’d intended, and I forced myself not to cringe in case he hadn’t picked up on it.

  The motherfucker winked…so much for thinking it had gone unnoticed. Ryker was well aware of how he affected women, but I started to get the impression he simply didn’t care. He’d sat at the bar in Swank and never interacted with any of the dancers. The night of the bachelor party, he didn’t partake in any of the freebies. And not once had I caught him staring at anything other than my face while I was on stage. There was no way he was homosexual—not that I would have cared if he was—which only left a broken heart to blame for his demeanor.

  He stood, again offering me his hand. I didn’t fight it. If I planned to see the light of day, I needed to listen instead of being defiant just for the sake of obstinance. I let him pull me from the seat against my better judgment. Ryker didn’t maintain his grip. He dropped my hand, and I followed him down the short hallway and into the room he’d disappeared into to call his friend. It wasn’t any more descript than the living room, although there was a bit more furniture. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the king-sized bed that occupied the majority of the floor. There was nothing on the walls, no personal effects on the nightstand or the dresser. White on white with brown-wood accents.

  “How long have you lived here?” My question slipped out without me thinking about how it sounded. Shocked and likely rude.

  Ryker glanced over his shoulder, and it was the first time I’d noticed the intricate patterns of color on his back. “About five years. Why?”

  I shrugged, trying to lessen t
he impact of how my words might come across. “You have a very minimalistic approach to decorating.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched, and I was rewarded with a stunning smile even after he fought to keep me from seeing it. “That’s one way to put it.” He didn’t wait for a response as he moved to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and grabbed something and then the third and picked out something else. “Here.”

  I barely caught the garments he tossed my direction. “What’s this?” I asked while unfolding a pair of boxers and then a T-shirt.

  “Something for you to sleep in. I can’t imagine that”—Ryker waved his hand to reference my outfit—“would be all that comfortable. Roll the boxers down, and they should stay up.”

  My gaping mouth and blank stare didn’t accomplish anything or even cause him to skip a beat.

  “The bathroom’s in the hall.”

  Clutching the clothes to my chest, I nodded without a word and hurried off to change. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it hadn’t been for him to suggest I change in another room. Although, I did so as fast as I could and returned to the bedroom. The weight of the evening’s events started to pull me down. My lids were heavy, and my body heavier. I just wanted to lay down. The bed was large enough that we didn’t have to touch.

  Ryker had taken the right side of the mattress, leaving the side closest to the door open. This was all kinds of awkward. I’d never slept in a bed with anyone else, much less a man who looked like the one currently sprawled out in front of me.

  “Flip the switch before you lay down.”

  Gladly. Darkness hid insecurity. Or so I’d thought until I stood there too long, uncertain of what move to make.

  “Nikki, I told you, I’m not going to touch you.” He draped his elbow over his eyes. “Just lay down, please.”

  Ryker might not have splurged on furniture or spent the first dime on decorating anything, but he’d invested wisely in a mattress. As soon as I lay down, it was as if a cloud of marshmallowy goodness supported my body. Tension rolled off me as my spine relaxed and I sank farther in.

  “This bed is amazing. I might never want to go home,” I teased.

  “Where’s home?”

  It wasn’t like he didn’t have the contacts to get the information if I refused to give it to him, so holding back was pointless. “Glendale Heights.” Anyone who’d spent any time in Dacon, Illinois, was well aware of precisely what those two words meant. The projects.

  “Me too.”

  I turned my head in disbelief. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve spent my whole life trying to get out. Figures, just when I was close to doing it, my mom would fuck it up.”

  Ryker turned onto his side to face me and propped his head in his hands. “Does that have anything to do with why you’re at Swank?” The genuine interest in his voice kept me from shutting down.

  I didn’t try to hide my disgust for the situation. There wasn’t a thing about me that Ryker couldn’t find out through Chase Silvano if he wanted to know. I’d rather him get the truth through me than lies concocted by U21. “Yeah. Ma stole drugs from him.” I stopped and then backed up to clarify. “She fell victim to the promises of the Union. We’ve struggled most of my life. I did what I could to help, but I thought getting an education would be the solution. Ma worked two jobs for as long as I can remember. Then some thug convinced her that she could give up the long hours and crap pay.”

  “Slinging dope in Glendale?”

  My story wasn’t unique where I came from. It was also exactly why I wanted out. The only way to break the cycle was to stop it. I couldn’t stop it if I stayed there. I pursed my lips and nodded, not that he could see me in the darkness. “She didn’t do drugs. Never touched them. But temptation’s a bitch. I don’t have the full story because I haven’t asked for it, but Ma started skimming off the top, then entire bags went missing, and finally, Sam got ahold of her.”

  “Not sure how that equates to you and Swank.”

  Something in his voice invited me in, welcomed me. For the most part, I kept to myself, never wanting to get tangled up with anything that might keep me in this godforsaken town. But Ryker’s statement set me at ease. He didn’t see me as a girl who belonged on that stage. I hadn’t pinpointed what he did see or why he’d felt the need to play white knight, but whatever it was, I needed it to stay pure…clean. His perception mattered, even if I didn’t have a clue why.

  I shifted onto my side to face him. The darkness did more than hide my insecurities; it shielded me from seeing his reactions as well. My eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, but I still couldn’t see more than the outline of his features. “It was faster for me to pay off her debt.”

  “Stripping?” There wasn’t any judgment in his question.

  “The drugs haven’t left Ma in great shape. She couldn’t get on stage, and she didn’t have a skill he could market anywhere else. So when Jesse showed up at our apartment and I answered the door, he offered to let me work it off for her.” I didn’t miss the way his brows dipped even if I couldn’t see the color of his eyes.

  “How much?” Nothing I had said surprised Ryker, and he knew what questions to ask to get to the end result sooner rather than later.

  “A few thousand.” I was embarrassed and not at all interested in handing out an actual number. “I’m supposed to take payments to Jesse every night after I dance.”

  “But you’ve only made one.” His voice trailed off in contemplation.

  I chewed my bottom lip and twirled a strand of my hair. “I’m afraid he’s going to hurt Ma when I don’t show up tonight. I just want to get this crap taken care of so I can quit taking my clothes off in a bar that wreaks of sweat, cheap cologne, and smoke.”

  He chuckled, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what he found funny. “So you can take them off in a more upscale strip club?” Ryker’s sense of humor would have been far more amusing had it been directed at someone other than me.

  I swatted at him playfully and rolled my eyes. “No… I don’t want to take my clothes off for money anywhere.”

  “Do you want to take them off for free?”

  I appreciated the fact that he wanted to make light of this, especially given the circumstances. It was easier to be upbeat than it was to face the reality of not showing up with Sam tonight, but it wasn’t his mother who’d be on the receiving end of whatever punishment the Union doled out.

  “You know what I mean. Ma owes Jesse a lot of money, more money than I ever dreamed of making in a short amount of time, but at the rate desperate men shove bills in my G-string, I could get her out of this in a couple weeks.” And then I thought about the fact that she’d managed to add more to the bottom line in twenty-four hours than I’d made in two nights dancing. At that rate, I was sliding backward much faster than I could begin to move forward. “Assuming she quits making shit worse.” It was an afterthought, one I probably should have kept to myself.

  He reached out to still my hand that continued to twirl a lock of hair. “How so?” His palm rested atop mine, and he made no effort to move it.

  Ryker’s touch distracted me from the question dangling between us. The warmth soothed a bit of the ache and worry, but the rough calluses fueled another form of tension I’d been fighting since I got on that motorcycle. I needed to smack myself. This was getting to be ridiculous.

  “She’s added more to the total and wants me to take Jesse up on his offer. Add missing a payment tonight, and I have no idea what kind of interest or penalty he’s going to tack on.”

  I couldn’t quite make out the expression on his face, and when I shifted on the bed to try to get a better view, he dropped to his back, evading my sight. Without climbing on top of him, there was no way for me to see whatever he hid. I had a sinking suspicion that he knew more than he let on. I just didn’t know how much more. Ryker had answers to questions I was afraid to ask. The fact that he didn’t give them to me freely, if fo
r no other reason than to calm my fears, meant I was in far greater danger than I’d thought.

  7

  Ryker

  There was no telling just how long I’d lain in bed, staring at the ceiling, before I finally drifted off last night. Now, as the sunlight filtered through the blinds I hadn’t bothered to close, I woke with far less urgency than I probably should have. My fingers trailed warm, bare skin and a rare smile tugged at the corners of my lips. I barely knew the girl in my arms with her face buried in my neck, but Jesus, nothing I could remember had ever felt this good.

  Nikki’s shirt—or rather my shirt that Nikki wore—had ridden up, exposing perfect, smooth skin. Sometime during the night, she’d taken up residence over half my body and now clung to me like a monkey on a tree. Thankfully, her thigh was just south of my erection, and I wouldn’t have to explain why I’d woken up with a hard-on or her sprawled across my chest. Even with makeup smudged around her eyes and a puffy, bruised cheek, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It didn’t take a genius to see—hell, even a blind man could see—everything about her was in direct contrast to that about me. Her creamy complexion screamed innocence against my sinful, inked skin. Her long, dark hair cascaded over both of us, and I carefully moved a chunk from across her face to get a better view of her supple lips. Seeing her asleep, her sharp edges softened. I struggled not to pull her closer, wrap my other arm around her and secure her against me. And when I leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, I stopped myself before it happened. I had to get the hell out of this bed before I did something I’d regret and she would never forgive me for.

  I eased out from underneath her thin frame, careful not to wake her. There, at the side of the bed, I admired the brown-haired beauty, and for a moment, my heart was heavy at the idea of her not being just where she was right now every morning. That pinched a little too tightly, and in a way I didn’t care for. I’d learned long ago not to put faith in anyone other than myself, and commitment was a word I refused to get involved in. It was a recipe for disaster, and one I didn’t care to make. Appreciating how she looked was far different than her making a homestead in my chest.