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Resisting Ryann

Page 15

by Alyssa Rae Taylor


  “I’m sorry, I don’t have the answer to that. I’m just following orders, but if anything changes, you’ll be the first to know.”

  Nodding, I tell her, “I appreciate it. Thanks Julie.”

  Lauren enters the room hesitantly.

  I wave her over, feeling bad for kicking her out in the first place “Come in.” She drove a long way to see me, and I miss having her around.

  Her heels clank against the floor as she prances over and plants another kiss on my cheek. “I’m worried about you, bro.”

  I pull back and give her a funny look. “What’s with all the kissing?” With my good arm, I take a swipe at my cheek.

  “Don’t be immature. You’re my brother,” she murmurs, annoyed.

  “You never used to do it. It feels weird.”

  “Well, it’s never too late to start. I thought I might have lost you,” she says, her brows pinching together. She grabs the chair behind her and scoots it up to the bed. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

  I still haven’t told her about Glenn, and I’m not sure how she’s going to take it. They’ve never been close, but he’s still her biological father.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, scanning her face, hoping she isn’t going to hate me for this.

  “The truth.” She looks me over. “Did Dad do this?” she asks, her eyes filling with unshed tears. “’Cause it wouldn’t surprise me if he did.”

  “It wasn’t him,” I tell her.

  She inhales a breath. “It wasn’t?”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “He was already gone by then.”

  Relief spreads over her features, then her gaze falls to the ground. “I really thought it was him.” She sniffs.

  Taking her hand in mine, I look into her eyes. “I killed him, Lauren. I shot him …” I pause, swallowing. “Glenn is dead.”

  Julie stands in the doorway. Both of us turn our heads.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Your wife is here to see you.”

  Of course she chooses to come at the worst possible time. “We’re in the middle of something. Can you ask her to wait?”

  “It’s fine, Luke,” Lauren says, squeezing my hand.

  Julie points over her shoulder and whispers, “She’s right outside the door. She was waiting up at the nurses’ station for quite awhile.”

  Glancing at Lauren, I say, “You don’t want to talk about this?” I just told her I killed our father, and she didn’t bat an eye.

  Leaning in, she says sincerely, “You did what you had to do.” Her eyes glisten. “I never really knew him. To be honest, I’m just glad it wasn’t you.” Flicking her gaze back to the nurse, she adds, “You can send in the wife.”

  I’ve been out of my room twice since I got home last night—both times to use the bathroom. I’d asked Gia to kindly turn away any visitors and thank them for their condolences. She came in once to see if I needed anything, but I told her I’d come out when I was ready. I’m not sure when that’s going to be, because if I’m not sleeping, then I’m crying.

  Over the course of two days I’ve lost everything. I’d rather feel nothing at all instead of this almost unbearable ache. At least I’d be able to function that way. I have forty-eight hours to plan a funeral with no idea where to start. I don’t even have a picture of him. I’ve flicked through my photos seven times in hopes one would magically appear. Unfortunately, it never occurred to me to take a picture when I had the chance.

  I dial his number and press the receiver to my ear. After four rings, the greeting picks up. I listen all the way ‘til the end, then hang up, and toss my phone on the bed. I’ve already left three messages—one telling him that I miss him, the other filling him in on Luke and the wife I didn’t know he had. The message was cut off before I could finish, so I called a third time to tell him the rest. I’d love to hear his response to that.

  Laughing and crying at the same time, I gaze at the ceiling. My dad didn’t know anymore than I had. Luke had fooled us both. The longer I mull it over, the angrier I become. He’d strung me along—played me like an instrument—just like Sean had said, and I was dumb enough to fall for it. I’d come to his defense. I’d thought he loved me. I’d even thought I’d hallucinated that whole scene at the hospital. But then it all started to make sense.

  The letter. He had sent it four months ago, telling me to move on—that we both should move on. I’d stopped receiving his texts sometime before that. Maybe that was around the time he realized he didn’t love me—he had fallen for someone else.

  I wonder where they met, and how long they’ve known each other. Did he fall for her instantly, or is she a part of his past? And where are they living? Is he planning to abandon his home or rent it out like the others? I couldn’t bear seeing the two of them together, living happily ever after. No, if that were to happen, I’d move far away from them. No question.

  Why had he come here the other day, stringing me along the way that he did? Telling me he loved me? Is it possible to love two people at the same time? It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t enough. With him, I’ve never been enough. Why couldn’t he just leave it as it was? And the anguish on his face that night—was it the guilt for what he had done to me? I remember he kept apologizing, but he couldn’t look me in the face. I’d felt sorry for him and willingly took him in my arms. I nearly had sex with him that night.

  Oh my God, he made me an adulteress!

  How can I tell anybody about this? I can’t!

  “Tell anybody what?” Gia asks, stepping through the doorway. “You don’t have to tell anybody anything. I told you that,” she adds gently. “I’ll tell them for you.”

  I suck in a breath, unable to give her the truth in this moment. “Thank you,” I reply with a sniffle. It’s just too humiliating to bring it up, especially since she’d warned me about him to begin with, and I ignored her advice. She and Logan will eventually find out about my naivety … from Luke.

  “I mean it, Reese,” she says, a crease forming between her brows. “Give me your phone. I’ll take care it.” She holds out her hand, and I give it to her.

  “If a man named Thomas calls, I need to talk to him. He may have some answers about my dad.” Blowing my nose for the umpteenth time, I climb out of bed and gather up the used tissues to throw them in the garbage.

  “Got it,” she says, plopping down on my bed, facing me as I stand in the bathroom.

  I check my appearance in the mirror. “Ugh. I look like I’ve been to hell and back.” My eyes are red and swollen, and my skin is blotchy. Walking back to my bed, I fall beside my friend. “When does this get easier?” Tears prick the backs of my eyes again. “He’s really gone. I have two days to plan a funeral.” Now I’m sobbing. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” Grabbing another tissue, I bring it up to my nose. “Where do I start? My mother hasn’t returned my calls … I’m so alone right now.”

  Gia brings me into a hug, and now I’m crying on her shoulder. “Listen Reese.” Her voice is serious. “I’m here. Okay? We’re going to get through this. Together.” Pulling away, she makes me look at her. “Do you hear me?” Her brows shoot up, but I’m too busy crying to answer her. So I nod and cover my face.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you … really, I don’t,” I tell her.

  Rubbing circles over my back with her palm, she says, “Lets get you something to eat. And maybe a shower.”

  Both of us laugh at that.

  “By the way, Sean came by to see you. I told him to come back in a couple hours.”

  After showering and eating a half a bowl of chicken noodle soup, I climbed back into bed—eventually answering one of Pam’s calls, before handing my phone back to Gia. I knew she’d been worried about me, and I felt bad leaving her hanging any longer. Like Gia, she offered to help out with the funeral arrangements. I guess I’m not as alone as I thought. And for that, I am thankful.

  I hear Sean’s voice coming from the hall, followed by footsteps and a knock. “
Are you decent?”

  I guess that would depend on his definition of decent. I give myself a quick onceover. “You can come in, Sean,” I answer, sitting up. Relief washes over me when the door opens and I see him—just now realizing how much I’ve missed him these past few days.

  There’s worry all over his expression, as he makes his way to my side of the bed. “Is it okay if I sit?” He hesitates, and looks at me questioningly.

  “Of course,” I say, patting the space beside me, then I reach out for a hug. He wraps his strong arms around me, and I can smell his Old Spice cologne.

  “I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “I came by a couple times, but Gia didn’t want me to bug you.”

  “I told her to send away the visitors. I was a mess,” I murmur into his chest.

  He squeezes me tighter. “I wish I could make it better somehow.” He’s scooted us back so we’re leaning against the headboard. “I know it hurts.”

  “Can you stay for awhile?” I ask, licking my lips. “I’ll try not to cry. Promise.”

  Chuckling softly, he replies, “You think crying would chase me away? Really?”

  I pull back and look into his eyes. “No. You’d stay.”

  I barely manage a grin. “You’re a good friend, Sean.”

  “I know.”

  “I hope I’m not keeping you from your work.” He works all the time, and I know it stresses him out when he falls behind. “You could get some things done over here if you need to. I won’t bug you.”

  “Nah, I’m taking the night off. I’m all yours,” he tells me, getting comfortable. “Let’s just hope the boyfriend doesn’t get jealous.”

  My stomach sinks, and I suck in a breath.

  His head dips down to meet my gaze. “You’re not going to be in trouble if he catches me here, are you?”

  Trouble? Clearing my throat, I say, “N-No. Not at all.” My eyes move in every direction, except toward him. I know he can read me pretty easily.

  “Has he been here to see you?” Cocking a brow, he adds, “Check on you? Given you a call? Please tell me he’s talked to you,” he says angrily, like he already knows the answer.

  Stop! Stop asking questions! I internally count to ten. “We aren’t together anymore,” I blurt out. “It’s over between us. And please … please don’t ask. I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I say, exasperated.

  He stiffens beside me, and we’re silent for a few minutes, “All right, I won’t ask,” he finally says, without looking straight at me. “Can you tell me one thing?”

  I close my eyes, clenching my jaw. “I said, don’t ask!”

  “Okay, sorry … I’ll shut up.”

  “Thank you.”

  He pauses, seeming to think about his next words. “So, what do you want to talk about?” he asks carefully, looking like a puppy who’s recently been kicked.

  “I’m sorry,” I groan. He came here to comfort me, and I go and bite his head off. “You didn’t deserve for me to snap at you. Thanks for putting up with my bitchiness,” I say, nudging his shoulder. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

  He flashes a dimpled smile then puts an arm around me. “Don’t worry. You’re forgiven.”

  “Well look at what the cat dragged in,” I grumble, watching Rachelle prance into my hospital room wearing my shirt, with a pair of jeans and some cowgirl boots. “Rachelle, this is Lauren, my sister. Lauren, this is Rachelle, my lawful-wedded wife.”

  “Yeah. We’ve met already … a couple of times,” Rachelle replies, like she could care less. “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” she adds, treading toward my bedside.

  I pin her with my stare, wondering what she’s up to. “Glad you’re getting use out of my shirt.” Not really.

  She shrugs. “Thought I’d wear it for good luck. Looks like it worked.”

  Getting out of her chair, Lauren says, “I’ll leave you two alone for a bit.” She grabs her purse and tucks her hair behind her ear.

  “Stay,” I tell her. “Unless you’re ready for a break.” I don’t want her to feel like she has to stay for me.

  Clearing her throat, she says, “There are a few things I need to discuss with you, in private,” Rachelle intercedes, her gaze flicking to Lauren like she’s a nuisance. It pisses me off.

  “She can stay if she wants.” I slowly move my injured leg to get the blood circulating. “I don’t keep secrets from her.”

  Lauren tips her head. “I think I’ll go down to the cafeteria. My stomach’s been growling. Can I get you anything?”

  “Yesss. Frozen yogurt, please.”

  “What flavor.” She grins like something is funny.

  My gaze moves up to the ceiling, as I think. “How ‘bout vanilla, with some chocolate sprinkles if they have it,” I add, gesturing with my fingers.

  “All right. I knew that’s what you’d say by the way.” She points at me as she’s walking out the door.

  “Thanks, sis!” I try to yell loud enough so she can hear me.

  Rachelle purses her lips. “Cute.” Her cheeks are coloring.

  “What?”

  “Chocolate sprinkles.”

  I fix my pillow and lay my head back. “I’m treatin’ myself. Now, what’s the deal with you telling everybody you’re my wife?” I cock a brow. “My sister? C’mon, she’s family.”

  “They’re only allowing family in here, and I wanted to see how you were. Did she tell you I have your dog?”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  Toying with the corner of my sheet, she lifts it up and takes a peek underneath.

  I swat her hand away and flinch in the process, then narrow my eyes at her. “What the hell are you looking for under there?”

  “I was checking out your injuries,” she snaps with a glare. “Don’t flatter yourself.” Plopping herself down on the chair, she rests her palms on her knees. “Anyway, your dog’s been taken care of.”

  Blowing out a breath, I relax a bit. “I’ll pick him up once I’m out of here. I appreciate it. And thank you,” I add, meaning it.

  Her eyes light up with a small trace of a grin. “You’re welcome.” She gives a single nod then grows silent. “So what exactly happened that night?” she asks finally, tilting her head. “Do you remember?”

  Every part of that night flashes through my mind, from Warren standing over my couch, to lying next to Andrew, both of us waiting for death to take us. “I remember all of it, up until I got shot. Next thing I know, I’m in here. Where’d you go after I dropped you off that day?” I can’t help but wonder if that’s how they found us, if she’d tipped them off.

  She sighs. “I told your father I wasn’t feeling well … faked the stomach flu. Then I contacted my boss and told him what had happened as soon as I got home.”

  “And …”

  “And we were able to track down the person who sent the text,” she replies, raising her brows. “It turns out one of the DEA agents working with the FBI was under internal investigation. There were suspicions that he’d gone rogue. He was also the only other person who could have had access to the codes. Once I told my boss everything, it confirmed his suspicions.”

  “Did you find out why he put the hit on me?”

  “He’d been leaking information to both Sergio Valdez and your father. Valdez put the hit on you.”

  I think about that for a minute. “Why? Why didn’t he just do it himself?”

  “He wanted you dead, but he didn’t want to own up to it.” She shrugs. “Continuing a long term business relationship with your father was more important.”

  Letting out a short laugh, I say, “Glenn wouldn’t have cared.” I shift in the bed to keep my leg from cramping up.

  “Maybe not, but I guess we’ll never know.” She leans back, and we’re silent for a moment.

  “How’d Glenn find out about Andrew?” I ask.

  “Through the same DEA agent. His name is Devon Hardesty. The guy got around.”


  “They’d tapped into his phone—found out he was warning Glenn about the set

  up. Then they intervened.”

  “A little late, don’t you think?”

  She nods. “You’re very lucky, by the way. You were the only two to make it out alive.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” I say, tipping my head. “How’d they find us out there?” I groan, lightly rubbing my shoulder, feeling pain as my meds wear off. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah, just a little stiff.” I gesture for her to continue.

  “Warren tipped off the feds.”

  Now that surprises me. “Warren?”

  She’s nodding again. “He was an undercover FBI agent.”

  “Did you know?” I never would have guessed, until maybe that last night I was with him. He seemed different in the way he acted toward me.

  “Not until two days ago.” She licks her lips. “It’s a safety thing. People go rogue all the time. Sadly, it’s pretty common,” she adds.

  “He’d told me, ‘Shit is about to go down’ that night … like a warning. He knew we were walking into a gun show,” I say, pressing my lips together tightly. “That explains a lot. After I’d been hit a few times, I could still hear the gunfire. I didn’t know if I had lost all feeling in my body, or if they had another target,” I add, shaking my head. “It’s too bad he didn’t make it.” This makes me think about Andrew again. “Andrew passed away earlier,” I say solemnly.

  “I heard.” She eyes me curiously. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that the two of you knew each other before this.”

  “Like you said, safety reasons.” Scrubbing my face with my hands, I’m reminded again. “Can you tell me why the hospital staff was told not to let me use a phone? Am I a criminal?”

  “No,” she replies quickly. “That’s not what it is.” Leaning forward to speak quietly, she says, “They have to clear you for two murders, Luke. It’s proper procedure. After that, you can go back to your normal routine, and pretend like this never happened. This case isn’t over yet, especially for you. It’s going to take more time.” She leans back.

 

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