“If there’s nothing you want to say…” I start, making a move to turn around and head back in the direction I came in.
“Stop,” Ryan orders and, much as I hate to do it, I turn around, facing him again. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to walk away when someone’s talking to you?”
“Well, you weren’t talking. You were playing whatever game it is that you’re trying to play,” I say, reminding myself that I can’t afford to be quite so disdainful toward him.
“This isn’t a game, Aimee,” he says, pulling his platinum, greasy hair behind his ear in a nervous gesture that I recognize from school. It was the same habit he had when a teacher asked a question he didn’t know the answer to. “Unless you think Jake’s future is a game,” he says breezily, looking up towards the window that I know Jake is watching us from. “But I didn’t have you pegged for that kind of girl.” He shrugs laconically and I have to resist the urge to shake him into telling me what he’s talking about.
The mention of Jake’s future has put me on edge, which I’m sure is exactly what Ryan had been aiming for. “What about Jake’s future?” I ask, forcing myself to sound as civil as I possibly can.
“Well, you know what happens in a couple of weeks. We come for Jake, he gets patched and tatted, and he becomes an Angel. You don’t get to see him anymore, he forgets about you, the perfect little Summers family is ruined and you end up with—well, with nothing,” he says, painting a picture that probably isn’t that far away from the truth, no matter how bleak it sounds.
“Thanks for the pep talk, Ryan. Always good to chat,” I sigh, pretending that his words have had no effect on me at all.
“Don’t be cute with me, Winters,” he advises gruffly, and the force of his anger makes me take a step back. The change that has come over his expression and his eyes is frightening—it’s what earned him his nickname at school. The other kids would call him Rabid Ryan because of the crazy look he would get in his eyes. The nickname didn’t really have the desired effect on Ryan. He seemed to wear it as a badge of pride rather than proof that all his peers thought that he was mad, not just a little scary.
“I’m not trying to be cute, Ryan,” I say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “But it’s getting late, I’m getting cold, and I’m tired of all the riddles. Can you just tell me what you came here to tell me?” I ask, hugging myself to keep out the cold desert night air.
“If you’re cold, you could come a little closer, Aimee. I’m sure I could figure out a way to keep you warm,” he says, and then laughs at his own joke before stopping abruptly and giving me what I can only assume are his bedroom eyes. It’s not a look that works for him.
I hope that the revulsion I feel at his suggestion doesn’t translate onto my face, but I’m afraid that some of it might. “I’m fine here, thanks,” I say, pressing my lips tightly together to stop myself from saying anything further. “Can we just cut to the chase here, Ryan? If you don’t mind?” I add as sweetly as I can manage to soften the blow.
“The chase, right,” Ryan says slowly, nodding in agreement. “Well, I suppose, in that case, the chase is you,” he says simply. “I’ve been chasing you for a long time, Aimee. My lovely, lovely, Aimee.” Then he looks me up from my sneakered feet, up my long legs, to the shorts I wish were longer, to the strapless top that is doing very little to help combat the seeping cold that I’m feeling, and finally settling on my face. The way he looks at me makes me feel as if I’m completely naked, and I suddenly feel vulnerable out here and very far away from Jake.
“What—what do you mean?” I ask, my voice quivering.
“Come on, don’t be shy with me, we’ve known each other too long,” Ryan breathes out, taking a step towards me and looking like he’s about to launch himself at me. “You know I want you. You know that this is how it’s all supposed to end.”
“What? How what is supposed to end?” I ask, still confused and feeling all the more unsettled by his confident tone.
“You and me.” Ryan reaches out to touch my hair, and I have to dig my nails into my palms to stop myself from rearing back. “We’re supposed to be together,” he says calmly.
I look at him in horror, thinking this delusion must be because of whatever drug he’s on. But his eyes are clear, and then it dawns on me: he really means it.
“Ryan, I’m with Jake. I’m in love with Jake,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm and as reasonable as I can manage. I want to tell him I would never be with him in a million years, but I bite that part back.
Ryan waves away my words as if they’re not important. “That’s what you think now, but that’s not how it’s supposed to be. That’s not how it ends,” he asserts confidently. I shake my head stubbornly and he continues. “You being with me would really go a long way to helping Jake out of this bind he’s found himself in.” Ryan tapps his index finger on this chin as if he’s thinking it over.
“What are you saying?” I ask, but I’m afraid that I already know what it is that he’s driving at.
“I’m saying that you give yourself to me, and Jake gets his life back.” Ryan shrugs casually.
“What?” I ask dumbly.
“If you’re with me, then I can talk to my father and convince him that Summers isn’t worth our time,” he assures me, holding his hands out as if to say, “take it or leave it.”
“I don’t believe you,” I reply. “I don’t believe Scar would just let Jake go, not after all that he’s been through to try to get him.” My mind flits to the photograph of Scar/Travis at Jake’s birthday party all those years ago.
“With the Feds crawling over this town, Scar’s got bigger things to worry about. Jake’s small fry. At least for now,” Ryan says, shrugging. “But it won’t stay that way for long. Not unless I have a little chat with daddy dearest.”
“Oh yeah, the Feds,” I say absently, as if they barely registered on my radar. “Bit of a messy business with that army truck, huh?” I ask, knowing I should stop even as I’m saying it. I think back to the conversation the night before with the men at the diner and their warnings over getting involved.
“And what would you know about it?” Ryan asks, challenging me.
“I know that Scar can’t be all that happy with your two boys in hospital,” I say lazily, taking a risk, but knowing that I don’t have anything else to gamble with.
Ryan snorts. “That’s one way to put it,” he says quietly, not volunteering any other information.
“Not really your style, is it?” I ask, emboldened by the fact that Ryan’s proved my hunch right.
“They were trying to score something on their own. Trying to prove a point,” Ryan says contemptuously. “They couldn’t have screwed it up any more if they’d tried.”
“So what’s going to happen now? Is Scar going to see if he can buy off the Feds just like he has the rest of the law in this town?” I ask, struggling to keep the disdain out of my voice.
At these questions, Ryan’s eyes start squinting in suspicion and he advances towards me, looking me over, but more in panic this time. “What the fuck with all the questions, Winters? You fucking wearing a wire?” he asks, starting to pat me down until I twist away from him.
I’m ready to defend myself if I have to and I try to figure out how long it would take Jake to get to me if I started to scream. But I notice that Ryan doesn’t look angry anymore. He looks like the cat that got the cream and I realize, with growing disgust, that it’s because he’s managed to get his hands on me.
“If you wanted me to touch you, babe, you only needed to say,” he says, his weedy voice making him sound like a horny adolescent. “Anyway, where were we?” Ryan asks, looking like he’s casting about for a cue of where we left off. “Oh yes, we were talking about the best offer you’re ever going to get.”
“Let me get this straight,” I say, pulling my head away, almost imperceptibly, so that the piece of hair he’s holding slides out of his fingers. “You want me to sleep wi
th you and, in exchange, the Angels forget about Jake forever?” I ask. This conversation has to be a dream. I’ll wake up at any moment.
“Got it in one, gorgeous,” Ryan confirms, doing the trigger gesture with his thumb and index finger, which in itself, goes a long way to explaining why Ryan has never had a real girlfriend.
“And why would I believe that you’d keep up your end of the bargain?” I ask as soon as the thought flits across my brain.
“You got a whole lot of other options?” he asks, smiling at his own cleverness.
I don’t reply that I’m waiting for the Feds to send all their asses to jail. I don’t think it’s really the time for bravado. Not only that but, as Jake has pointed out any number of times, we have no idea how long it’s going to take for them to find something on the Angels that’ll stick.
Even though I know that Ryan’s right, and I don’t have overwhelming options in my back pocket, a lot would have to change for me to even consider his deal. Aimee, the little voice in my head warns me. But I pay her no mind. To hell with keeping a hold on bravado. “Ryan, even if my only other option was to stick my head in a vat of boiling oil, that would be preferable to what you’ve offered me,” I say, unable to keep the revulsion out of my voice.
But, to my surprise, he doesn’t fly off the handle like I expect him to. He just nods as if that’s exactly the answer he was expecting. “You always did have a way with words, Aimee,” he admits, not sounding even slightly offended. So much so that I start to question if he actually heard what I’d said to him. “Tell you what—I’m going to pretend that you didn’t just say that. I’m going to give you some time to sit with the other options that you have,” he says confidently, swinging one leg over his motorbike and revving the engine.
“I don’t need any time. I’ve given you my answer already,” I say, struggling to be heard over the sound of the bike.
Ryan shakes his head as if he’s disappointed in me. “You’re supposed to be in love with that pussy inside, aren’t you Aimee?” he ask, innocently. “If that were true, wouldn’t you do whatever you could to save him from becoming what you both seem to hate most—one of us?” He leans over the handlebars of the bike, smiling lasciviously at me. “Could you really live with yourself if Jake became a sworn brother to the people that killed your beloved daddy? If you really could, then maybe you’re not as much of a good person as you thought you were,” he points out. “See you around, Aimee. I’ll be waiting for your answer,” he says before gunning the engine and heading out onto the road, leaving a trail of dust behind him that makes me splutter and cough.
I must be in shock, as I don’t move until I hear the sound of Jake’s pounding feet coming up behind me. He whirls me around to look at him, checking me over to make sure that I’m alright despite the fact I’m pretty confident he had seen the whole exchange from his vantage point inside.
“What the hell was all that about?” he asks, holding me at arms’ length and looking into my eyes.
“I wish I knew,” I say, staring at the trail in the dust that Ryan left behind him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“What do you mean you don’t want to talk about it?” Jake asks, sending the beer he was drinking crashing into the garbage.
I jump at the sound, still on edge from my encounter with Ryan. I stare dully at the bottle of beer in front of me, nervously twisting it in my hands. “He freaked me out,” I say, truthfully. “I just can’t talk about it right now.” I hope that we can leave things at that, at least for tonight. But I know better than that.
“I don’t accept that,” Jake replies, turning me around to face him. His eyes are intense and filled with a mix of anger, concern, and what looks like fear. “You were out there for a good half an hour talking to one of the Angels, one of the men who enjoys nothing more than making our lives a living hell, and you don’t want to tell me what he said?” Jake asks, his voice incredulous.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you, Jake,” I assure him. “I’m just trying to process everything.”
“What happened to ‘no secrets?’ What happened to no secrets between us?” he asks, reminding me of the vow that we’d made.
“It’s not a secret,” I tell him insistently. “It’s just more of his bullshit, trying to scare us. You know what he’s like.” I hope the lie I’m telling isn’t as obvious as I’m afraid it is.
“You’re telling me that he came all the way over here just to frighten you?” Jake says slowly, making it clear that he doesn’t believe a word of it. “Did that piece of shit hurt you?” he asks, despite the fact that he witnessed the entire exchange. “Does he know that the Feds have been hanging out at the diner? Is that why he came here?” Jake asks, jumping to logical conclusions.
“No, no, he’s paranoid as all hell, but he doesn’t know that I’ve spoken to them,” I assure him. I hold a hand to my head, feeling the headache spreading from temple to temple. I wonder if it’s possible for your head to actually explode from having too many conflicting thoughts. I doubt it, but that’s exactly how my head feels right now—as if it might smash into a million tiny pieces.
I know that I should tell Jake. That the secrets I’m keeping from him are mounting up. But I need some time to think about what Ryan has said to me without the influence of Jake’s opinions. I already know what he would say. He would say that it’s ridiculous, that Ryan’s a pathetic little man, and that he should be embarrassed that the only way he can get a girl is to threaten her. He’ll say that he would never let me do something like that, even if it meant saving him. He’d tell me that he would walk into the Angels compound himself rather than know I’d given myself to Ryan.
I don’t need to tell him about the conversation to know exactly what his reaction will be. Could you really do it? The little voice in my head asks me. Could you really rationalize being unfaithful to Jake, giving yourself to someone you both hate, to keep him free? What kind of love is that? Her voice makes me feel ashamed at myself for even thinking about Ryan’s offer. If you could even call it that.
“Aimee, are you just tuning me out now?” Jake’s voice reaches me through the folds of my mind.
“No, no, of course not,” I say, moving closer to him and laying my head on his chest. I wonder if it’s my imagination, or if he really does wait longer than usual to encircle me in his arms. “I’m just a little shaken is all.” I relax in his embrace, enjoying his strong frame holding my smaller one. He makes me feel safe. As if we can make the rest of the world just fall away.
“I know, I know,” Jake says eventually, holding me tighter to him. “But you have to understand how much it tears me up to know that you and Ryan share something that you won’t tell me about,” he says, leaning back and looking down at me, studying my face.
“It’s not like that. There’s nothing between Ryan and me,” I assure him. “There is no Ryan and me. You know what I think of him, and that opinion hasn’t changed after today.” That part is the truth. I’ve always thought he was a little worm, and his Indecent Proposal style offer hasn’t affected that opinion.
“So tell me,” Jake urges me, but I don’t respond. “Is it about me?” he presses, a shadow crossing his face. “Did he come to tell you they’re backing out of the deal?” He is jumping, of course, to the worst possible conclusion. Well, not really the worst, I remind myself. The worst is what Ryan actually told me.
“No, he didn’t. The deal stands,” I assure him. Jake’s shoulders slump as he visibly relaxes. “Please Jake, just trust me. I really need you to trust me right now, to trust that I know what I’m doing,” I insist. I don’t add that I’m not even entirely sure what it is I’m doing.
Jake pulls me close to him again, laying his chin on top of my head. I feel his chest move as he sighs deeply and I know from that noise that he’s not going to push me to answer his questions. “I trust you,” he admits, albeit grudgingly. “But I still don’t understand why you won’t tell me what’s going on. I don�
��t like being in the dark. We’re a team. I’m on your side, Aimee,” he reminds me, and the earnestness in his voice just kills me.
“I know Jake, I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do,” he replies, his temper rising again. “When you keep me in the dark, you take away my power. You take away my power to protect you, to help you, to keep you safe, which is the single most important thing to me,” he says, his eyes burning with sincerity. “Remember when I told you what I was most scared of was losing you?”
I nod slowly. “I remember.”
“Well I got it wrong,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s not just the idea of losing you that frightens me the most. It’s the thought of anything happening to you because of me. That’s the worst thing. That’s what tears me up inside more than any other possibility out there,” he explains, his eyes pleading with me.
Hearts of Winter (Bleeding Angels MC Book 2) Page 15