by Tiffany Snow
Ryker glanced at me and caught the blank expression on my face. His smile was rueful. “Sorry. You probably don’t know what I’m talking about. Lake Forest is a long way from the south side of Chicago.”
“So tell me about it then,” I said, but he shook his head.
“Nah. You wanna hear it even less than I want to tell it.” He cracked his practiced grin again. “Tell me what you like to do for fun, Sage.”
I swallowed my disappointment. It was so obvious that he was just putting the moves on me, steering away from anything too personal. Now that I’d seen a little underneath, it was that much easier to spot when the real Ryker disappeared and the player came out.
I had a decision to make. It seemed Ryker was an expert at adding to what I was sure was a long list of conquests, and the question was, did I want to be the latest entry? While Megan had pushed me to take advantage of all the assets Ryker displayed—as well as others currently hidden—I found myself lacking enthusiasm for being another notch in his belt. I also had the suspicion that regardless of the “bombshell” and “smokin’ hot” comments, Ryker wouldn’t have looked at me twice without the connection to Parker.
Kind of a waste, though, I thought, my gaze again landing on Ryker’s hands.
No no no. Don’t go there.
“Um, I don’t know,” I said, remembering he’d asked me a question. “I like to shop.” An understatement, though since I was paying my own bills now, the trips to Saks and Nordstrom were fewer and farther between than I’d like.
“Shop?” Ryker twitched an eyebrow in distaste. I laughed.
“I like baseball,” I said.
“Cubs fan?”
I rolled my eyes. “Please. White Sox.”
He grinned. “Me too. They’ve got a game tomorrow afternoon. Wanna go?”
The temptation was strong—I adored going to White Sox games—but I shook my head. “Thanks, but I need to pack tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?”
“Parker has a meeting in New York with some new clients,” I explained. “We leave Monday.”
Ryker leaned forward. “Really. So what new clients?”
“Um, I’m not really supposed to discuss our clients,” I hedged. “Privacy and such.”
“I’m sure you could tell me a little bit without breaking any rules,” he teased. “They’re in New York then?”
“Um, yeah,” I said, wondering at his sudden interest. “But they’re Russian, I think.”
Ryker’s gaze sharpened. “Russian, eh? So are they with some corporation or bank?”
Now alarm bells were going off. There was no earthly reason why Ryker should want to know about some new clients of Parker’s.
The man’s words from last night echoed in my head. It occurred to me that maybe I should tell Ryker about it—he was a cop, after all—but I also knew he might think Parker was doing something illegal, even though he wasn’t, so I kept my mouth shut.
“Have you found anything out about who killed Mr. Hinton?” I asked, changing the subject. “Or how they even got in the building?”
Ryker turned his body toward me, resting an arm behind my shoulders on the back of the booth. My pulse rate shot up at his proximity and I avidly drank in the up-close view of his chest and arms. Tearing my gaze away, I looked up to find his blue eyes glinting knowingly. Yes, Ryker was very much aware of his appeal, which should have been a turn-off, but wasn’t.
“Well, I’m not supposed to talk about that,” he teased. “Unless you want to exchange information, then I might be persuaded to share.”
My eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”
“I never said I was fair, sweetheart.”
How Ryker could get away with calling me “sweetheart,” I had no idea. I should be pissed with righteous indignation at the condescending endearment. Should being the operative word. All I really wanted was to hear him say it again, only in a growly way. Minus his shirt.
“It’s just a new client, that’s all,” I said with a shrug. “I think Mr. Hinton was going to handle the account, but now Parker’s doing his job until the firm hires someone else. They’re based overseas—in Moscow—and Parker’s meeting with some of the head guys in New York this week.”
The playboy persona was gone now, Ryker’s expression serious as I told him this, and I felt a niggling of apprehension. But I hadn’t divulged anything private, not really.
“Your turn,” I urged him.
“The shooter got into your building by hacking the security,” Ryker replied. “Very sophisticated, very hard to do, and proving impossible to trace.”
Wow. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting.
“Listen, Sage, I’m going to come clean with you,” Ryker said. That made my ears perk up. Come clean? What was that supposed to mean? “I think you’re the kind of girl who does the right thing. Am I right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, confused now. What did this have to do with anything?
“I’ve been on this one case for a while,” Ryker said. “The Russian mob has a strong presence here in Chicago, and we’ve been working on shutting them down, or at least making a dent in their organization. But they have their tentacles everywhere, and one way they keep themselves clean is by laundering their money through investment firms, just like the one where you work.”
A sinking sensation in my stomach told me I knew where this was going.
“We don’t have anyone on the inside who can help us,” he continued, “and we can’t get information without a subpoena, but to have a subpoena, you have to show cause, which we can’t do. Yet. I thought maybe you might be willing to help us. This client you have, the one out of Moscow, they may very well be a front for these people.”
And I was right. Ryker hadn’t been interested in me at all, at least, not in the way that had me dressing like a motorcycle slut on a Saturday night. That sinking sensation became an all-out ten-pound ball of lead.
“They’re awful people, Sage,” Ryker said. “They’re into everything bad you can imagine. From drugs, to guns, prostitution, human trafficking. You name it, they do it. And all the billions they make get funneled through banks in Europe and America, and come out squeaky clean on the other side.”
“What can I do about it?” I asked with a shrug. Yeah, it sounded awful, but I was just a glorified secretary with a nice title.
Ryker’s lips twisted. “You’re kidding, right? You work for the top investment firm in Chicago. Your boss is the number one name in town for foreign investments.”
Surprised, I said, “I thought you hated Parker.”
“I do, but that doesn’t blind me to the fact that he’s a genius at that shit. If anyone would be able to untangle the financial web behind these people, it’s him.”
“Then why don’t you just ask him to do it for you,” I said. “Why bother with me?”
Ryker’s face turned grim. “Because—now don’t freak out—we think Parker may be involved.”
My jaw was agape as I stared at him; then I got mad. I grabbed my purse. “I’m out of here.” I started to slide out of the booth, but Ryker latched on to my arm, yanking me back.
“I said not to freak out,” he said.
“If you think Parker’s involved in something like that, then you’re crazy,” I retorted, trying to pull away, but he easily held me.
“Just hear me out,” Ryker said, and gone was the friendly hot guy. Now he was in scary cop mode, and it intimidated me. I stilled. “How well do you know Parker? Really know him?”
“I’ve worked for him for—”
“I didn’t ask how long you’ve worked for him,” Ryker interrupted. “I asked how well you know him.”
That shut me up, because the truth was, I didn’t know Parker at all, not in the way Ryker meant. I wasn’t his confidante, wasn’t privy to his innermost thoughts or his private affairs. We had a very good working relationship and I could tell you all about his personal habits, work routine, what it meant i
f he wore a navy tie to work versus a red one, and the exact temperature he liked his coffee (180°F). But know him? I hadn’t until two days ago even known he’d been in the Marines.
“I don’t,” I said at last, and it hurt to admit it. It hurt to stop and think of just how much time and energy I devoted to Parker and my job only to realize that at the end of the day…we weren’t even friends. Not really.
Ryker sighed. “Listen, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s not like we make things up, Sage. We have good cause to be suspicious of Parker. And maybe he’s just gotten in over his head. You can help us. You may even be able to help Parker.”
That got my attention. If the cops thought Parker was involved in something bad, and I had the opportunity to help him by proving them wrong, then I really had no choice.
“What would I have to do?” I asked. “I’m not a cop.”
“You don’t have to be. Just be observant. Make note of names, titles, what they look like, anything they do or say that seems odd or suspicious. That’s all.”
“How will that help Parker?”
“If these guys are legit, then it’s no problem and we can clear him,” he said.
“And if they’re not?”
Ryker’s face was grave. “Then you want us to get involved. These people are dangerous, extremely dangerous, and you don’t want anything to happen to Parker, or yourself.”
I had the impression he was manipulating me, that he knew exactly how I felt about Parker, and that he was using that against me. Which was obviously a very good ploy because there was no way I was going to turn down the chance to either clear Parker’s name or help get him out of the clutches of the bad guys.
“Okay, I’ll do it,” I said.
Ryker smiled. The satisfaction in his eyes pricked my pride, but what was I to do? He’d effectively maneuvered me.
“Can we go now?” I asked. I was so ready for this “date” to be over.
“Yeah, sure.” He dug in his back pocket for his wallet and tossed some money on the table. Although we didn’t have our bill, I figured he must come here often enough to know what it cost.
Dorothea pressed another round of kisses to our cheeks on our way out; then Ryker and I were standing by his motorcycle.
I really didn’t want to get on the bike with him again. It wasn’t like I thought this was a real date, not after what he’d just told me.
“I’m just gonna catch a cab,” I said, sidling away from Ryker. I glanced down the street and saw one coming. Perfect.
“Don’t tell me you’re still afraid of my bike,” Ryker said, grasping my elbow and tugging me back toward him. His lips were lifted in a half-smile.
I snorted. “I’m not afraid of your bike, but I’m pretty sure this date is over.” I resisted the urge to quote “date” with my fingers, but only just barely.
“I thought maybe we’d grab a drink somewhere,” he said.
The heat from his touch seared through the thin material of my blouse and my gaze dropped from his eyes to his mouth. I’d bet my next paycheck that Ryker knew how to kiss, like really knew. Too bad I wouldn’t be finding out. I jerked my eyes back up to his.
“I don’t like the lying, Ryker,” I said flat out. “I’d rather you had just told me all of this without pretending to do the date thing. This”—I waved my hand to indicate me and him—“just makes me think that while you may be a good cop, you’re also kind of a dick.”
Ryker’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “It’s not often a woman calls me a dick after I buy her dinner,” he said.
“It’s not often a man uses me to get back at his arch nemesis,” I retorted. Turning away, I raised my hand, signaling a taxi coming down the street.
“Wait,” Ryker said, stepping in front of me. “That’s not why I asked you out.”
“Isn’t it?” The disbelief was evident in my tone.
“No, it’s not,” he said.
“I don’t believe you,” I said. “But it doesn’t matter because I don’t play these games.” The cab had pulled over and I stepped around Ryker, heading for it, but he snagged me around the waist. Spinning me around, I landed pressed hard against him from chest to knee, which wasn’t the best thing for my resolve to ditch him.
“Hold up,” he said, his blue eyes locking on mine. “You say you don’t like games, but I think you’re lying.”
Ryker was warm, his body hard against mine. His strength was apparent from how loosely he held me, but that I wasn’t getting away anytime soon. Not that I was trying too hard.
“Oh, I am, am I?” Not the cleverest response, but the most my brain could manage.
He placed his lips by my ear. “You want excitement and danger, sweetheart. You know it and I know it. Something different from the stiffs in suits you usually date. And I’m an excellent choice to make that happen.”
People passed us on the sidewalk, and out of the corner of my eye I saw the cab pull away. Ryker and I were locked in position, and despite the incredible arrogance of his words, I didn’t want to move. I felt the slightest brush of his lips against my skin and a shudder went through me. My hips were cradled between his thighs, my breasts pressed against the hard planes of muscle on his chest. His hands rested on my waist, their heat bleeding through to my skin.
My head was telling me Ryker was a jerk who thought way too highly of himself and presumed to know too much about me. Except…my pulse was racing and the part of me that had liked the motorcycle ride was also telling me I’d waited my whole life for a man I didn’t want to take home to meet my parents…and that it was this man.
“Get on the bike,” he ordered. “I’ll take you home.”
My cab was gone, so while it went against my sorely lacking judgment, I did as he said.
I endured the helmet yet again, then climbed on behind him. Traffic was light on the way to my apartment, and Ryker dropped his left hand from the handlebar to rest it on my bare thigh. His fingers hooked beneath my knee, brushing the sensitive skin behind the joint.
The touch sent a shiver through me and I reflexively gripped him tighter as I held on. His abdomen was hard beneath my palms, the rough denim of his jeans abrading the insides of my thighs. My palms were splayed flat against him. The hem of his shirt had ridden up and I felt the smallest sliver of skin against my fingers.
I closed my eyes and savored the sensations—the wind rushing past, the sound and heat of the bike’s engine, the scent of spring in the air mixed with the smell of the city, the feel of Ryker touching me and me touching him. Relaxing slightly, I rested my chest against his back. In response, his palm curved more firmly to fit my thigh, and an answering heat flashed in my veins.
The ride was over too soon, with Ryker’s hand going back to the handlebars to steer the bike into the parking lot of my building. I had the hated helmet off before he’d even parked, using my fingers to comb through my hair.
My pulse was hammering and my hormones were hopping up and down when I climbed off the bike. I wanted nothing more than to straddle the bike again, only this time facing Ryker rather than sitting behind him.
Another notch in his belt, I reminded myself.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I said, handing him the helmet.
“I’ll walk you up,” he replied, swinging his leg off the bike. His tone didn’t invite argument.
Ryker was a palpable presence beside me as we rode the elevator to my floor and walked to my apartment. I was hyper-aware of him, every breath he took and every brush of his arm against mine. Knowing my resolve was taking a beating, I dug my keys out and had them in my hand by the time we were at my door. Unlocking the door took just a second; then I turned to face Ryker, who’d moved much closer into my space so he loomed over me.
“I’ll let you know if I find out anything,” I said, tipping my head back. Though how I’d do that, I didn’t know. I didn’t have his number and wasn’t about to go poking around the police station downtown looking for him.
Ryke
r’s eyes had a familiar glint in them as his gaze roamed over my face—desire and lust that I felt an answering flush to underneath my skin. In desperation to avoid what almost felt inevitable, I brought up the one person who’d throw ice water on the heat between Ryker and me.
“Parker’s not involved like you think he is,” I said. “I’m sure of it, and if I can help prove it, I will.”
As I’d expected, Parker’s name had an effect, although not what I’d intended. Rather than dousing the flames in Ryker’s eyes, it only seemed to fan them.
“You’re loyal,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “I like that. You’re just loyal to the wrong guy.”
Ryker’s head bent, and I knew what was coming, but there was nowhere to go. He had me pinned to the door, and if I was honest with myself, I probably wouldn’t have moved away even if I’d had the opportunity.
His lips met mine in a kiss that made my toes curl. Thoughts of Parker and everything else disintegrated, Ryker overwhelming them all.
The scent of his cologne and the leather of his jacket curled around me. His hand lifted to cradle my jaw, the soft brush of his lips giving way to the warm heat of his tongue as he deepened the kiss.
He tasted like darkness and sin wrapped in the soft notes of red wine, and I was immediately addicted. I felt the door give way at my back and realized he must’ve turned the knob. Backing me slowly inside, his mouth never left mine. Dimly, I heard the door close.
The brush of his thumb on my cheek was like a brand. His lips gently released mine, only to trail down my neck. My eyes were shut and my breath was shallow and fast as blood pounded in my ears.
A waft of cool air hit me and I realized he had undone the buttons on my shirt, pushing the fabric off my shoulder and down my arms. It hooked on my elbows, keeping me from reaching for him, but Ryker didn’t seem to mind. His mouth fastened to the sensitive skin above my breast, his tongue dipping into the cleavage enhanced by my push-up bra. The warmth of his calloused palms spanned my waist and bared abdomen, their rough texture accentuated by the smooth softness of my skin.
My panties were uncomfortably damp and thoughts of being just another notch in Ryker’s belt were a long ways off. At the moment, I didn’t care if I was the hundredth notch in that belt; I just wanted to be a notch. Speaking of belt…