Ryder: Hitman Mafia Romance

by Lexi Cross

  “Oh sure,” she said. “It’s only my life in danger, but nothing to worry about.”

  She’d stormed off to her room, but smiled the whole way. That had to be it, then. Even if it was taking so long, it had to just be that he was concentrating so hard on finding the guy and taking him out. It had to be hard work, she was sure of it. It wouldn’t require her father’s best man, which Ryder certainly was, if it wasn’t a dangerous and tricky mission.

  Then she had nothing really to worry about. When he finished the job, she would hear from him. She kept telling herself that, even if a little part of her didn’t quite believe it. You might mean nothing to him, it said. Just a fling, right? Wasn’t that the word he used? He wasn’t into relationships.

  She could hardly sleep some nights, thinking of all this stuff. It’d gotten so bad, she turned to extreme measures to distract herself. She made sure that every night there was something going on. Either she’d go to dinner with a friend, find a party, go to a club. Every night was a new crowd of friends to hang with, something else to do. When no one was around, she went shopping by herself. She bought lingerie in hopes that Ryder would be the one seeing it. Maybe the one tearing it from her body in a fit of passion. The little stringy thongs she bought in black and white would be perfect for tearing.

  During the day, things were trickier. Her friends were off doing things like lunching or taking classes. Some of them worked, like she did, running a business or something else. So, she didn’t have much choice. She did text as much as possible, but she couldn’t just leave the store. So, instead, she threw herself into her business fully.

  She shopped far and wide for new lines, took time to discover and search for new designers. She sent out emails to request exclusive pieces. She even worked on posting more photos on Instagram to drum up business. When she got really desperate, she pulled out a business book her dad had recommended that she read years ago.

  When she got to the middle of the book, she knew things had taken a turn for the worst. Pretty soon, she’d have to start looking for a new hobby or a pet. Many of her friends had dogs, and she hadn’t wanted to deal with the hair and cleaning up after it and all that, but she might need something soon if it didn’t get better. She had to find a way to stop thinking about him.

  Of course, it didn’t help that she could swear on a few occasions she’d seen him. Once it was in the mall, once in her store, and more than a few times in the shop’s parking lot when she went out to her car. It helped to think maybe he was watching her from afar, keeping her safe without her even knowing it.

  That idea would send her on wild fantasies. She might go out to her car one night after work and feel a hand cover her mouth, like the kidnapper had. But this time it would be Ryder, and he would throw her into the back of his car and make love to her. Or someone would barge into her office while she did paperwork and it would be him, and he would take her right there on the desk. He’d sneak into her room while everyone was sleeping, and she’d wake to the feeling of his hands on her, then feel his hard cock enter her.

  Once, she almost slept with a guy she met at a club. He was cute. The typical rich type like she usually dated. They’d started making out and it was getting hot. She pretended he was Ryder. But when he fingered her, it was obvious he was nowhere near as skilled. It had frustrated her so much she’d stormed away from him with no explanation. Ryder had ruined her. She knew what great sex was like now and she wanted nothing else.

  But this missing him had gotten ridiculous. It was getting to the point that she’d wake up with a stomach ache thinking about him. She felt tired and achy and sometimes, she canceled her plans to go out and instead sat with a tub of ice cream, consuming far too many calories. Nothing made her feel better.

  She was also more emotional. She went to the movies with some friends and had cried so much they had to ask her if she was okay. It made her think of Ryder, though, and that had sent a wave of longing through her chest.

  She thought she was getting through it. She thought she was dealing with it okay. Even if the stress had been so bad it made her miss a period. But then, the next month, she missed it again. The idea slowly came to her, taking its time to form in her brain.

  The sick stomach, the missed periods, the emotions, the fatigue. Could she possibly be pregnant? She’d never been, so she didn’t know what to expect, and had missed the signs until now. But when she slept with Ryder, they certainly hadn’t stopped to use protection, and she tended to be more lackadaisical with her birth control pill than she should be.

  For the first two days, she ignored the idea. She could not be pregnant. She simply wouldn’t allow it. But when she threw up again, she was having more and more trouble denying it. And now it seemed that her breasts were hurting and smells seemed to bother her more than usual. These were all things on the list when she dared to look up pregnancy symptoms.

  No matter how she tried to deny it, or wish it away, she couldn’t. All the signs pointed to pregnancy. There was only one thing left to do. She had to take a test and see. Maybe she was imagining it all. Maybe she was just that stressed. A few more massages, an extra glass of wine or two and she’d feel better. But she’d better take a test just to be safe.

  She drove to a convenience store out of town, where no one would recognize her. She went in wearing a sun hat and sunglasses to be extra careful. When she made it to the aisle, she quickly grabbed two tests, not stopping long enough to really read the packages. Two would make sure she didn’t screw one up or pick a bad test. She didn’t want to have to come back to buy more.

  With the bag of tests shoved in her purse, she went into her bedroom late at night. She read the instructions with a shaking hand and got up twice to make sure that both her bedroom door and the bathroom door were locked. She couldn’t afford for anyone to come in and see what she was doing.

  She held the sticks awkwardly and peed on them, then set them down to wait. Why did it have to take so long? She watched the time tick by on her phone, trying to distract herself by looking at photos on Pinterest of new jewelry designs. When the timer went off, she glanced over at the tests and tried to pretend like it didn’t matter how many little blue lines there were.

  She picked them up, saw that they confirmed her suspicions, and wrapped them in toilet paper, then shoved them back into their boxes, wrapped them with more toilet paper, and stuck them in the plastic bag. She tied the bag in three knots and shoved it back in her purse, all the way to the bottom. Tomorrow, on her way to the shop, she would stop at a dumpster and dispose of the evidence. She couldn’t take any chances that someone would find the tests and figure out it was she who’d taken them.

  Once she’d concealed the evidence the best she could for now, she sat on the edge of her bed to think. The sobs started and she curled into a ball on her bed, wishing desperately that Ryder was there to hold her and comfort her.

  What would he say in that moment? Would he be happy? Maybe he’d not want a baby. Or not want one with her. He might tell her to get rid of it. He might ask her to marry him. He might not care either way. He might lie and say he’d be there to help her and be a part of the baby’s life, then disappear. All these things seemed like possibilities.

  She had no idea what to do or think. She tried to think about how this would change her life. One thing she knew for absolute surety was that her father could not know. If he knew she was pregnant, he’d be mad. This was not something rich girls did, go out and get pregnant. That was something for the lower class only. He’d be disappointed. He’d be mad. He’d call up the man who got her pregnant and make him do something about it. Make him marry her so her baby wasn’t born out of wedlock. She’d get to plan a huge extravagant wedding and would be married and have her baby with her husband and all would be well.

  But it would never go like that. Not unless she lied. She could try to pin this baby on some guy who her father would approve of. It might work. It’d been almost a month since she’d slept with an
yone before Ryder and babies sometimes came late. She could fudge the number and lie and make it seem like the baby came later than planned. Or it could go the other way and she could go sleep with someone tonight and make it seem like the baby came early. It could work. So long as they didn’t ask for a DNA test. So long as the baby didn’t come out looking like Ryder.

  The problem was, she wanted the dream. She wanted to tell her father she carried Ryder’s baby and have him be thrilled and throw them an amazing wedding. She wanted to be Ryder’s wife and raise their child together while making crazy love every night. She wanted to be that bold and wild and have people look at her like she was crazy for marrying someone like him. But they didn’t know how hot he was, or how good in bed, or how strong, or how he made her feel more alive than any man ever had.

  But if her father knew the truth, if he knew it was Ryder’s baby, he wouldn’t be happy. He wouldn’t be mad, either. He would be murderous. He would kill Ryder. He might take the baby. Give it away so she’d never see it again. He might punish her for being with Ryder. He might cut her off. Who knew how far he’d take it. Would he even kill her to save himself the disgrace? Maybe. When her father felt wronged, there was no telling what he would do. He scared her, the way he got angry sometimes. But he’d never had that level of anger directed at her before.

  When her father got mad at her, it was for things like going over her monthly allowance. Or for firing some hired help without his permission. Or even when she totaled her new car. That kind of stuff that didn’t really matter much in the end. It was all money. Sure, he cared about money. That was his whole business as a mafia man. But he cared more about his name and his pride. If someone did him wrong, he would never forget it and always made them pay.

  So, her options were limited. She couldn’t have the dream wedding and marriage without lying about who the father was. She couldn’t have Ryder without hiding the baby and their relationship. She would never have exactly what she wanted, so she needed to figure what she wanted in her limited options and go from there.

  First. Did she even want this baby? Everything would be simpler if she had an abortion. No lies, no hiding, nothing to fear. But when she considered it, considered going into one of those places and coming out empty, taking away the thing that her and Ryder had made, the thought brought fresh sobs to her throat every time.

  She couldn’t destroy something that was the both of them. Okay, so she could go away. Put the shop in capable hands and tell her father she wanted to go travel Europe for a year. She could have the baby and give it to a happy couple, and then think of him or her out in the world. This little life her and Ryder made, off living its life happy. But that, too, made her sad. She didn’t want to hand the baby over. She wanted to be the one raising it, to hand it to Ryder when he came home after work. To sit with him and watch their child grow.

  Maybe that was the answer, then. Maybe she did go away. But, instead of giving up the baby, she kept it and lived with Ryder and had a happy little family far away from her father where no one would ever find them. They could change their names, take a bunch of money, and live happily together. Ryder could make money somehow. Probably. Get a job or something. She’d even consider not having all the money she had now if it meant being with him and having a family.

  Pia could not shake that happy imagine. She would have this baby. She would keep this baby. And even if, somehow, Ryder wasn’t part of the picture, if her father did kill him in the most tragic version of this story possible, then she would keep the baby knowing it was part of him that lived on. But she couldn’t afford to think like that. Couldn’t spend the tears that came with the thought of losing him. She had to tell him before anyone else could know.

  They’d have to make plans and find a way out. They’d go away. They’d hide. They’d do it together.

  She took out her phone and sent him a text. I need to see you.

  It didn’t give any information away. That text could mean anything. And since it was the first text she’d sent him since he left, it would have to get his attention. Did it sound urgent enough? She almost added that it was very important, but she would wait. If he didn’t respond, she could send that.

  He would respond, though, she was sure. Well, sort of sure. She hoped. But what if he didn’t, and she couldn’t get a hold of him? What then? Go back to her original plan of leaving the country? Hope she’d be able to find him later? It wasn’t like he was missing. Her father knew where he was. She could maybe get the information secretly and go to him if it came to that. But hopefully it wouldn’t. He would respond and say he was coming to her and that would be it.

  She paced her room, waiting for her text notification. She kept checking her phone. Had the message really sent? Yes, it showed delivered and the date. Maybe he hadn’t gotten it yet. Maybe his phone wasn’t charged. Maybe he was in the shower or in the middle of something and couldn’t respond right away?

  Her stomach tightened with every minute that passed. What if he let her down? What if he didn’t show after all? What if he didn’t respond and come to her and take her away?

  She fell to her knees, the tears flowing silently as she stared at her quiet phone.

  Chapter 9

  It took hours for him to get to her. Too many hours, much too long. The whole drive was agonizing. He was worried, imagining every scenario possible. In most of his visions, she was hurt or in danger in some way. Which meant he needed to get there fast.

  What if it had somehow all been a setup? What if they were just trying to get him out of the way so they could get to her. Though the “they” in that case would have to be Matteo because obviously the guys who tried to kidnap her wouldn’t have known when he was coming to kill them.

  Maybe the timing was a coincidence but she was hurt for some other reason, in some other way. Maybe her car had broken down and she was stranded on the side of the road. Maybe the guys he killed had somehow alerted their boss before he knew it and while they were dying, someone was being sent to hurt her. A little payback for taking his guys out?

  If he was lucky, she wasn’t in danger at all. She was just missing him and wanted him. But when was he ever lucky? She hadn’t texted him in all these weeks, so why would she now all of a sudden? That would be too good to be true.

  No. He tried to picture her in some sexy outfit, posing seductively on her bed, texting him because she was wet for him. But that image quickly vanished and was replaced with the sight of the fear in her eyes as her kidnapper tried to pull her away. He’d never forget that look. It haunted his waking and sleeping hours when he wasn’t with her. When he didn’t know for sure she was safe. He always pictured the worst.

  Even though he’d driven as fast as possible, as fast as was safe after just committing a double murder, it wasn’t fast enough. He thought about texting her back or calling, but without knowing the situation, he didn’t want to do that, or give anything away. If she was in danger, her phone might be compromised. Better her attacker think he wasn’t going to show up than to know that he was on the way.

  He hated to think she was sitting there with her phone, waiting for his response that wasn’t coming, but it was safer this way. He could explain everything when he had her in his arms. When she was safe.

  Finally, her house came into sight. This part, he needed to play carefully. He couldn’t just barge in there and up to her room. Luckily, he had the excuse of needing to talk to Matteo and report in anyway. He’d do a little reconnaissance before going in to make sure she was there.

  He turned into the driveway, but didn’t pull up to the house. He got just close enough to see that a dim light was on in her room. It was late, though. It could be some sort of night light left on. Didn’t really prove anything.

  He’d planned to install a tracking app on her phone. While he was protecting her, it wasn’t necessary, and he hadn’t had the chance to do it before he left. But he would now. Next chance he got. That way, he’d at least always know where her
phone was.

  Lateness was on his side, though. Matteo would be up, waiting for him to come and give his report, but the other staff would be sleeping.

  But that wouldn’t help him now. He parked and walked up to the garage, peaking in to see whose cars were there. Matteo’s day car was there. And so was Pia’s Jaguar. So she was most likely here. The only way to make sure was to text her or go to her room.

  He took a chance and sent a text. Where are you?

  That, at least, wouldn’t give anyone any information except that maybe he would be on his way soon after she sent the text.

  In my room, she said back quickly. Where are you?

  He ignored her question for now. Are you okay?

  I don’t know.

  Are you alone?

  Yes. Kinda.

  What the hell did that mean? How was someone kind of alone? Well, she was here and didn’t seem to be in any immediate danger. She’d know soon enough that he was here.

  He knocked on the front door and waited. Matteo greeted him and ushered him inside.