by Susan Stoker
“He protected us as best he could,” Logan mused.
“I never thought he did that good a job of it,” Blake admitted.
“Remember that time when we were little and wanted to go trick-or-treating? Mom didn’t want us to go, saying it was a stupid holiday, but he hurried us out of the house and told us to have fun,” Nathan added.
“We came back, and he had a black eye and was limping badly, but he still sat on the floor with us and watched as we went through all our candy,” Blake said. “I’ve been bitter that he didn’t do more to protect us, but when I really stop and think about it, he was always standing between us and Mom. Yeah, there were lots of times when she still got to us, but Dad did what he could to take the brunt of her anger.”
Ryder sent a silent prayer up to his mom, thanking her for being loving and generous. They’d been poor, but he’d never known anything but tenderness from her. “When my mom told me about the affair, and about our dad, she wasn’t bitter at all. I couldn’t understand it at the time. I asked why she let him go so easily. She told me that it wasn’t easy, but that he went back to your mom because of you guys.” Ryder looked each of his brothers in the eye.
“He left my mom, and a life free of abuse for you guys. He had to protect you. My mother said he flat out told her that. And that was why she never attempted to talk to him again. She understood. It hurt, but she understood. She didn’t tell me about the letter, but I know she thought that since you guys were older, and no longer in need of protection, it would be okay to write him.”
Ryder heard Felicity sniff. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she had a death grip around his waist. The other women were also crying, and the men looked more sad than pissed.
The emotions in the room were high, but there also seemed to be an air of relief.
“This sucks,” Blake said. “But, I’m glad we know. I’ve always wondered what happened. I mean, Mom was always a bitch, but I couldn’t figure out why she went from simply being abusive to murder.”
“Should we bring this to the cops?” Alexis asked. “I mean, Rose did kill Ace, after all.”
“No,” Blake said immediately. “It won’t change anything. They’re both dead; we need to let Dad rest in peace once and for all. He made mistakes, I don’t think any of us can deny that, but what’s done is done.”
At that moment, baby Ace let out a loud fart.
The room was silent for a moment, then Joel blurted, “Nothing like a baby fart to break the tension.”
Everyone laughed, and just as Joel stated, the tension in the room was broken.
Grace got up to change her baby’s diaper, and Alexis and Bailey wandered into the kitchen to refill drinks.
Logan, Blake, and Nathan went into the office to look at the letter once more, and Joel got up and started working on his homework at the kitchen table.
Felicity went to get out of Ryder’s arms, but he tightened his hold on her. “Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Why wouldn’t I be? I should be asking you that.”
“I’m good.”
Felicity put her hand on his cheek. Ryder had never seen her look so mellow. “It’s not your fault,” she told him.
“I know. I’m not happy that her letter was apparently the impetus for Rose to kill Ace, but I know I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“Good. Why don’t you go in there with your brothers,” she said with a tilt of her head, indicating the office.
“I think I will. You okay out here?”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Ryder. I’m good. I’ll just go in and help Alexis and Bailey in the kitchen.”
Ryder widened his eyes in mock horror.
“Shut up,” she giggled, then smacked him on the shoulder. “Let me up, you big brute.”
With a grin, Ryder helped her stand. He liked this side of her. Liked their easy-going teasing. Too much of their time together had been intense; he wanted a lifetime of teasing and joking around with her.
When Ryder and his brothers came out of the office an hour later, he felt much better about his relationship with his brothers. None of them were happy with what they’d learned, but with knowing came a certain amount of peace. The Anderson brothers, because they realized that their father had chosen to stay in an awful marriage to protect them; and Ryder, because of the forgiveness they’d extended to his mother for her role, however unintended, in Ace’s murder.
Ryder stopped short at the sight that greeted him when he walked into the large open living area. Grace was fast asleep on the couch with one of the twins snoring on her chest. Bailey was holding the other baby, and she and Alexis had their eyes glued to some reality show on television.
But that wasn’t what caught Ryder’s attention. It was Felicity sitting at the table with Joel. Their heads were together, and she was showing the boy something on a piece of paper. They were so engrossed in what they were doing, neither saw Ryder approach.
“So that’s the easiest way to divide fractions. I agree that multiplying them is much more fun, but if you follow those steps, you can easily do the division,” Felicity was telling Joel softly.
“Cool! You’re just as smart as Nathan,” Joel told Felicity, his eyes staring up at her in awe.
She chuckled. “I don’t know about that. But math is fun. I like it. Numbers make sense. They always work the same way, there’s always a right and wrong answer. You can’t say that about English or a lot of other subjects.”
Joel nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that’s what I think too. Sometimes I don’t understand how to do stuff the way my teacher explains it, but Nathan always helps me when I get home. But you made it even easier to understand than he did last time we tried to do this stuff. Thanks!”
Felicity ruffled his hair and said, “You’re more than welcome.”
Ryder cleared his throat.
“Hey, Ryder,” Joel said, “is Nathan done? I want to show him how Felicity taught me to work these fractions!”
“Yeah, he’s done. Just talking with his brothers about everyday stuff.”
“Cool. Thanks again, Felicity!” he called, and was off like a shot.
Ryder eased into the seat he’d left and looked down at the scrap paper on the table in front of him. It was covered in fractions and math problems. He looked over at Felicity and said, “Math, love?”
She bit her lip and nodded, but didn’t elaborate.
Ryder reached for her arm and straightened it on the table in front of him. With his fingertip, he traced the cursive words on her forearm. “We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them. I love this.”
“Albert Einstein,” Felicity said softly.
“I know.”
“It . . . it’s about more than math,” she admitted.
Ryder’s heart melted. “I figured as much.” He continued to run his finger up and down her arm, not commenting on the goose bumps that rose as a result of his touch.
Felicity took a deep breath and looked up at him. Instead of seeing fright in her eyes, he saw determination.
“I need your help, Ryder.”
“You got it, love.”
“It’s my college roommate’s boyfriend, he—”
Ryder put his finger over her lips. “Not now, and not here.”
Her brows came down in confusion. “But I thought you wanted me to tell you everything.”
“I do. But I want to make sure you feel safe when you do it. I don’t want there to be any interruptions either.”
“I feel safe now, and what kind of interruptions are—”
As she was speaking, Joel burst back into the room. “Felicity! Nathan says good job! He’s impressed that you know fractions!”
Ryder lifted his eyebrows at Felicity, as if to say, “See?”
“That’s great, Joel.”
“We’ll talk later, love,” Ryder told her, then leaned over and kissed her temple.
With every day that went by, every
day he spent with her, Ryder was discovering another facet of Felicity’s personality and true self. He knew she was smart, but seeing her work so easily with Joel had solidified it. He couldn’t remember how to divide fractions if his life depended on it.
He just had to continue to be patient. She’d given him her real name and had said she’d tell him her story. Nothing in his life had felt as good as Felicity’s trust.
Late that night, after a fun dinner with his brothers and a hilarious game of Cards Against Humanity—played while Joel was occupied watching a movie—Ryder led Felicity into the now-closed gym. They nodded at the lone cleaning woman who came in each night to disinfect the locker rooms and make sure all the workout machines were wiped down.
Ryder kept hold of Felicity’s hand as they walked down the hallway, past the offices, to the stairs that led up to the second floor and her apartment. Felicity was half-asleep on her feet, but even so, as soon as they entered her space, she dropped his hand and headed for the kitchen.
She went to the water cooler, and poured herself a large glass of water. Ryder had seen her do the exact same thing each night before she went to sleep.
“You do that every night,” he observed quietly. “Why?”
She shrugged. “It’s good for me. I didn’t always eat very healthy, and I realized the best thing for me is water. I try to drink at least two liters every day. Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. But I find if I drink a full glass right before I go to sleep, it makes me feel better. Cleaner.” She shrugged. “It’s probably all in my head, but water was always free, and it was the one thing I could do to help keep myself healthy when I couldn’t afford to buy the best food. Drinking water was way cheaper than seeing a doctor if I got sick.”
Ryder walked toward her and took her head in his hands. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly, feeling the coolness of her lips from the water.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“Because you’re amazing.”
Felicity blushed, but for once, didn’t contradict him.
“You’re tired,” he observed unnecessarily.
She nodded.
“Okay, get on to bed. I’ll make sure we’re locked up tight. You gonna let me check your room tonight?”
She shook her head.
“You know that nothing in there would make me leave . . . right?”
Felicity sighed. “I know . . . I’m working up my nerve to let you in my personal space. It’s the one place in the world where I feel like I can truly be myself.”
Ryder kissed her forehead. “I’m in no rush, love. I’m happy enough that you’re not protesting me staying here in the first place.” He inclined his head toward the couch where he’d been sleeping.
“You could sleep in the guest room, you know. I realize there are two cribs in there for Nate and Ace, but there’s also a twin bed.”
Ryder was shaking his head before she’d finished the sentence. “Thank you, but no. If I can’t be right at your side making sure you’re safe, I’ll settle for sleeping out here, where I can be between you and anyone who might break in and try to get to you.”
She stared up at him with wide eyes for a moment before closing them and sighing. When she opened them a second later, they were filled with tears. “No one has made me feel as safe as you do.”
“Go on to sleep, love. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I want to tell you . . . but . . . I’m not ready. It’s stupid because I was going to talk to you earlier, and I know my time’s running out because he’s here. Watching me. I can feel his eyes on me almost all the time. I should just tell you because I know you’d be able to help me.”
Ryder tightened his hands on her head. “No pressure, Felicity. He won’t get his hands on you while I’m here.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. You don’t ever thank me for being by your side. For wanting to be here.”
Her lips quirked upward.
“What? Are you laughing at me?” Ryder asked, much happier to see her smiling than crying.
“It’s just that . . . you can be so stern at times. But I’ve seen you hold your nephews and talk to them so tenderly, it’s hard to reconcile the two.”
“I told you what I did for a living,” Ryder warned. “Don’t mistake my tenderness for you and my family for weakness.”
She got serious. “I wouldn’t. I think it’s that dangerous side that makes me trust you implacably. The fact that I know you’ve killed before and would probably kill for me makes me feel safe.”
“There’s no probably about it,” Ryder said matter-of-factly.
They stood there for several seconds staring at each other before he sighed and took a step away from her. “Finish your water and go to bed, love. Tomorrow’s a new day. We’ll play it by ear.”
She nodded, finished the rest of the water in her glass, and set it in the sink. She brushed past him and headed for the closed door to her room. She turned at the last minute and looked back at him.
“Good night, Ryder.”
“Good night, love.”
Joseph Waters, disguised as a woman several decades older than he was, slowly ran the mop over the floor in the gym. He kept his eyes on the hallway Ryder Sinclair and Megan had gone down. It had been easy enough to get rid of the weak old woman who had been cleaning the gym. He hadn’t planned on killing her, but the stupid cunt hadn’t stopped screaming even when he’d held a knife to her throat.
She wasn’t even close to being the first bitch he’d killed, and she wouldn’t be the last. Most of the time, women would shut right up when they felt his blade at their throat, but not her. All he’d needed was the set of master keys she had to Rock Hard Gym. Bathrooms, locker rooms, offices and, most important, the apartment on the second floor. Not that he needed them. He’d been taught by one of the best lock pickers his dad had employed. He could pick almost any kind of lock in less than a minute. But the keys certainly made things easier.
It had been simple to check out Megan’s apartment before she and her protector had gotten home. He’d taken his time, gotten a feel for who she’d become in the years he’d been looking for her. Joseph had seen enough for a plan to start forming in his head for how he was going to bring her to heel.
A gleam entered his eye, and he robotically ran the mop across the floor as he imagined her chained up, scared, and spread out for his use. Yeah, Megan Parkins would rue the day she dared call the cops on him.
And now that he’d been inside her apartment, he knew exactly how he’d get to her.
But first he’d play.
He smiled as he put the mop back into the closet. Megan and Cole would find out soon enough that their regular cleaning lady wouldn’t be able to continue in their employment.
He’d made several copies of the keys she carried already and could enter and exit the building at will. The stupid janitor had given him the code to the alarm after only one small cut on her neck. He hated weak women. He much preferred they stand up to him before he broke them.
He smiled as he let himself out of the gym. He’d be back. This was going to be fun.
Chapter Nine
Felicity heard Ryder on the phone the next morning as she lay in bed. She heard him say her real name, the one she’d revealed the day before. She wasn’t surprised. She’d known when she’d told it to him that he’d be reporting it to his friends. Instead of feeling nervous or scared about it, though, it felt . . . freeing.
For the first time in ten years, she didn’t have the urge to constantly look behind her. Oh, she knew Joseph was out there somewhere. He wouldn’t have sent her that note or the newspaper article if he didn’t want her to know he was near. It wasn’t his way to pop out of the bushes with a gun. No, he liked to torment. To scare. And he was damn good at it. He’d found her right after she’d left Chicago, and it had been traumatizing enough for her to figure out how to acquire a new name and try to disappear for good.
She cou
ldn’t hear Ryder’s exact words anymore, he must’ve moved into the kitchen, but she could still hear the low rumble of him talking. Felicity’s eyes roamed her room. Keeping everyone out had become second nature, a part of protecting herself. If the living area was pristine and barren, her bedroom was the exact opposite.
She had a picture of her and her mother on the table next to her queen-size bed. Books lay in disarray on the floor, as she didn’t have a bookshelf to keep them on. She’d kept a few of her old physics textbooks, and they were interspersed with crime thrillers, how-to-live-off-the-grid instruction manuals and, of course, her sci-fi books.
After she’d gotten her latest tattoo, she’d overheard a group of college girls talking about her, saying that she looked scary and how she probably had posters of motorcycles and guns on her walls. It was the impression she wanted to give strangers. She’d purposely done her best to change the image she projected. She’d always been the good girl—the nice one—and look where that had gotten her.
The short hair, the muscles, the tattoos—it was all to transform herself into the opposite of who she once was. But . . . it hadn’t really worked. She still felt like the same person inside. She didn’t like people to be scared of her, didn’t like to constantly be snarky and closed off. It hadn’t kept Joseph from finding her. Hadn’t kept him from killing her mom. All it had done was make her feel more alienated from everyone around her.
But who was she, really? Her bedroom was the one place in her life where she could be herself. Truly herself.
On her walls were cheap posters and pictures she’d picked up in discount stores and from Goodwill. A poster of Monet’s Woman with a Parasol, a watercolor of a field of bluebonnets that she’d picked up when she’d been hiding in Texas, a piece of notebook paper tacked up on the wall with a picture drawn by Joel of an alien being shot by an astronaut, a newspaper clipping with the story about Grace’s mother going to jail, complete with a picture of Margaret Mason in handcuffs being led into the courthouse, and an eleven-by-fourteen portrait in which she and Grace were standing with their arms around each other at Grace’s wedding. They were both laughing hysterically, their heads thrown back, huge smiles on their faces. It was one of Felicity’s favorite photos. She’d never seen Grace so happy before then.