His mouth felt dry. “How about we sleep and then talk in the morning?” he asked. The world had bombarded the woman. She needed to store up her defenses, and he needed to provide cover and make sure she stayed safe. No matter the cost. “Sleep now.” He pulled her against him.
Her breathing smoothed out so quickly, he figured he’d made the right decision.
He partially turned and spooned Zara, drawing in her scent of fresh tangerines. He loved that shampoo. He breathed her in and settled. In the morning, he’d tell her everything about his past. If it was going to catch up to him, he needed her prepared.
After one more cursory check of his surroundings, he allowed himself to drop into a light sleep that quickly became deep.
He was sixteen years old, nursing bruised ribs and a possible concussion. Ned Cobb, the proprietor of the boys home, and his brother, the sheriff, had gone at him for hours, using threats and more than a couple of punches, but not once had he broken and told them that Ralph had stolen the food. The kid was too young and too small to take a beating, so Ryker had taken it for him.
Heath had gathered Ralph into their little family the second he’d taken a look at the short kid. Ryker hadn’t had the heart to object.
Spring had finally arrived, so the bunkhouse wasn’t as cold now. He sat on his bed, surrounded by other beds. Birds chirped outside, and the sun gleamed through the dirty windows. The place had been built by nature-loving rich people who thought they were helping kids who needed a safe place in nature. Dumb-asses.
Heath ran into the room, his jeans torn and bruises across his jaw from a run-in with Ned the previous week. “Shit. They found out it was Ralph.” Heath had turned fifteen the month before, and he’d quickly started sprouting up. Soon he’d be as tall as Ryker. His eyes darkened, and he ran a bruised hand through his dirty brown hair. “I think they knew from the beginning and just wanted to make you tell.”
“Probably.” Ryker pushed to his feet and winced as his ribs protested. “They’re both sick fucks.”
“Yeah.” Heath eyed him. “You okay to walk?”
Ryker stumbled toward the door. “Yeah. My legs are fine. Tell me they don’t have Ralph.”
Heath shoved the door open to full sunshine. “They’ve had him for hours, and I just found out. Denver is there, too.” He cleared his throat. “I just saw Sheriff Cobb go into town, but he’s sure to be back soon.”
“Fuck.” Ryker held his arm close to his ribs, trying to bracket them. “We have to get Denver and Ralph out of there.”
“We should do it now before the sheriff gets back.” Heath ran around the building and quickly returned with two baseball bats. “I raided the elementary school down the way a few weeks back so we’d have these just in case.”
“Nice.” Ryker accepted the well-worn but smooth wooden bat and left the aluminum one for Heath. “This is it, then. If we do this, we have to run.” He was ready. At some point either the sheriff or Ned was going to swing a belt too hard, and one of them was going to die. It wasn’t going to be his blood brothers or him, and now they needed to save the new kid. “Are you ready?”
Heath’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. It’s time to run.”
Ryker nodded. They’d get Denver and the new kid, and they’d head south through the hills. He’d stashed boots and supplies in a gully behind a bunch of bushes, so they’d be all right. The key was getting out of the state as soon as possible, because the sheriff had a long reach. The dickhead.
Ryker led the way around several bunkhouses to the main house, where they slid through the side door and entered the quiet kitchen. He silently moved for the back stairs, his odd senses keeping track of Heath right behind him.
They crept down the wood stairs to the dirt-packed floor and turned into a storage area complete with several freezers and shelves of canned goods.
Ryker’s head ached, and his ribs pounded, but he kept going through a narrow hallway to a room at the rear. The room. His gut clenched.
“I’ll go first,” Heath whispered, his voice shaking.
“No.” Ryker was a year older than Heath, so that meant he went first. “Just get Denver and Ralph out of here if Ned grabs me.”
“We all get out of here,” Heath said, his voice losing the shake. “We’ve got this.”
Ryker reached the wooden door with the white peeling paint. No loud sounds came from within, but he could hear heartbeats. Two of them. He nudged open the door and stepped inside, his grip tightening on the handle of the bat. Then he froze.
Ned leaned over Ralph, pressing on his chest, nearly pounding. The kid lay in the dirt, his eyes open, and with no color in his face.
Denver leaned against the far brick wall, bruises and blood mottling his head, and tears streaming down his face. A metal folding chair was tipped over near him, and blood flowed from a cut in his arm.
Ned stood, his hands shaking. The owner of the boys home was tall and thin with thick blond hair and angry brown eyes. At about thirty years old, he still had pimples, and his teeth always seemed yellow. He spun around and looked at them, his narrow mouth opening and closing. Blood covered his knuckles.
He did like to punch.
Ryker looked down at the dead kid and then up at Ned again.
Ned sucked in air and tugged his button-down shirt into order over his khaki pants. “Denver killed Ralph. You saw him.”
Ryker slowly shook his head. “No.”
Ned’s thin chin went down. “You both saw him. Or maybe you did it? Who do you think my brother will believe, me or you?”
Heath turned so pale he looked like he might pass out.
Ryker swallowed down what tasted like acid. His hands shook. “Denver, get behind me and get out.”
Denver took a step forward and then stumbled. Heath hustled for him and shoved a shoulder beneath his arm.
“We’re leaving,” Ryker said, forcing words through his clogging throat. He didn’t know Ralph, but the small dark-haired kid didn’t deserve to die like that. Nobody did.
Heath propped Denver against the wall and blocked him, looking toward the dead boy. “We didn’t even get to cut his hand, Ryker.”
Ryker’s eyes filled. “He’s still a brother, Heath. I promise.”
Heath caught his breath on a sob.
Anger and fear rushed through Ryker so fast he swayed. What if they didn’t get out? They were all dead. Terror felt like sharp spikes inside his skin. “Ned, don’t try to stop us and don’t come after us. We’ll tell everyone what you’ve done if you do.”
Ned rushed him.
He reacted and swung the bat at the same time Heath rushed forward and did the same. The bats hit the man in the head, and the sound exploded through the air.
Ryker shot up in bed, breathing so hard his head spun. His heart pounded, and his chest compressed. Okay. He was fine. Just fine. Yeah, he’d failed Ralph, but he could protect everyone in the house now. He wasn’t a scared kid any longer.
Zara rolled over, her eyelids opening. “Bad dream.”
He nodded, suddenly freezing. Thunder ripped the sky apart outside, and wind barreled against the window. Hell of a storm. Slowly, he slid back under the covers.
She rolled right up against him, her hand flattening on his chest. “Tell me about it.”
Part of him wanted to tell her everything, but the other part wanted her to remain unaware of his past and of the pain they’d endured. She’d hurt for them, and the woman had hurt enough.
Yet he needed her to trust him, and she was so damn strong, she could handle it. “When Heath, Denver, and I were kids, we lived at a shitty home for boys where the proprietor liked to hit. He was a prick, and sometimes I have nightmares.” Ryker ran a hand down her hair and over her sweet back. “Sorry I woke you up.”
She caressed his chest. “I’m sorry about the boys home. Did the proprietor ever get caught?”
“Not really.” Ryker kissed the top of her head. “He died in a fire at the home, so he never really faced justi
ce.” In fact, it had been way too swift. Either his bat or Heath’s had hit the guy’s temple, and it was suddenly over. Neither of them had meant to kill Ned, but he’d been dead before he hit the dirt floor. Denver had been the one to set the place on fire to cover their tracks long enough for them to get away.
They’d been running ever since. He figured the haunting nightmares were karma or penance or whatever.
“I’m so sorry, Ryker,” Zara said, leaning up to kiss his chin.
He relaxed into the bed, and his lungs finally released all the air. “I’m okay, sweetheart.” For the first time in so long, as he held his woman, he actually believed it. Then at her trust, at her acceptance, he told her everything, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. The entire story of his life, of meeting Heath and then Denver, and finally of that night. “So I swung the bat, and the sound—shit, Zara, the sound—there’s nothing else like it. I heard a melon explode once, and that sound was close, but there’s a sick thunk to a skull caving in that’s impossible to describe.”
She held him tight, running her hand over him, offering soothing sounds. “That’s horrible.”
“Yeah.” His hands were sweaty, but he felt cold. “We were so scared, and then we had to run. Really run, you know? The sheriff would’ve caught us and not turned us in.” Even now, years later, Ryker shuddered at the revenge Cobb would’ve sought. The man was sadistic enough to know their weaknesses, and he would’ve definitely tortured Heath and Denver in front of Ryker. Hell, he’d promised to do it more than once.
Zara kissed his chin. “I’m so sorry, and I’m so glad you were strong enough to survive.”
At her acceptance, something tight in his chest eased and loosened. He calmed and told her all about Dr. Madison and Greg’s connection to her. To them.
“That’s unbelievable,” Zara said, anger in her voice. “She experimented on all of you?”
“Yes.” Warmth surrounded him as he shared with Zara—as he gave her everything. “She said once that Heath, Denver, and I were her special projects—just hers—like some type of secret. Like her main job was at the facilities where Greg and other kids were raised, and we were just a detour or something she did for fun. Our lives were her fun.” Bewilderment filled him, and he didn’t bother to battle it back.
“Damn, that’s fucked up,” Zara said.
He barked out a surprised laugh. “You’ve summed it up perfectly.” God, he adored her.
“Thank you for trusting me.” She settled against him, and they lay that way, just the two of them, for a brief moment in time.
Finally, he tuned into the apartment. It was still dark outside, so it must’ve been early morning. Ice cracked outside while silence ruled inside. Greg breathed quietly in the living room, and Grams shuffled around her room.
“Your granny is up,” Ryker said.
Zara nodded. “I wish we could stay here forever.”
“Me too.” He sighed. “But we can’t.”
“I know. Today I want to go to the office and fetch my belongings before anybody gets there.”
He paused. “You’re not fired. Just on leave.”
“I know, but it’s embarrassing. Chances are I’ll be fired, no matter what. So I’d like to get my things without facing everyone.” She sighed. “I’m a coward.”
“No, you’re not.” He ran his fingertips across her waist and over her butt. “I’ll take you first thing, and then we need to make escape plans.”
“Okay.” She licked along his jawline. Her phone buzzed, and she stopped to roll over and read the screen. “My neighbor has my mail for me. Let’s stop by there after the office.” She rolled back and nipped beneath his chin. “Then maybe we can go back to bed.” Barely evading his quick kiss, she shoved from the bed and stood, stretching.
“Sounds good.” He followed her into the shower, where he proceeded to make sure she was very clean. Several times. Being with her felt like he’d always imagined home would feel. Until now, the idea of a home had been just a farfetched dream.
But Zara was home to him.
After the shower, he quickly dressed in clean jeans and a T-shirt while she messed with her already perfect face. “Meet you downstairs.” Pressing closer for a kiss, he breathed her in. Woman, spice, and sweetness.
Then, to prevent himself from taking her back to bed, he hustled through the apartment and jogged down the stairs to the offices, whistling a Christmas tune. It was the only happy tune he knew.
Tension hit him the second he opened the door from the stairwell.
“God fucking damn it,” Heath bellowed.
Ryker stiffened and then hurried to Heath’s office, his body going on alert. Heath had thrown a paperweight across the room, and it hung drunkenly from the windowsill. “What?” Ryker asked, just as Denver caught up from his office.
Heath vibrated in place. “The Copper Killer got Agent Jackson. He got through the FBI to Jackson.”
Ryker rocked back on his heels. Shock stilled him. He’d been focused on Zara’s problems and hadn’t figured Jackson was really in danger. How could this happen? “When?”
Denver pivoted and ran back toward the better computer system in his office.
“Late last night,” Heath snarled, primal fury in his eyes. “I just intercepted an FBI e-mail about it—they’re keeping it quiet for now.”
“That’s good.” Ryker glanced at the window. God, Heath would lose his fucking mind. The guy had made a connection with Jackson and seemed to really like the agent.
Lightning zigzagged outside, and snow pelted down along with freezing rain. “The case just became our number one priority.” He’d have to get Zara out of town for now and then go chase the killer and cover his brother’s back. “Special Agent Jackson lived in Snowville?” There was an FBI satellite office in the large Washington State town.
“Yes.” Heath ripped open a desk drawer and rummaged, yanking out a wad of cash.
Ryker held up a hand, trying to calm him when all he wanted to do was grab a gun and go hunting. “The guy won’t be in Snowville any longer.”
“Don’t care. It’s a place to start.” Heath strode around the desk, his brown hair ruffled and his eyes pissed.
Denver caught him at the doorway. “Airport and interstate are closed. Storm’s a bastard.”
Heath paused. “Then we get on computers and the phone.” He turned back. “The second something is open, I’m going.”
“We’re going,” Ryker corrected. He glanced at his watch. “Right now I’ll take Zara to get her stuff, and then I need a safe house for her and Grams while we go after this guy. We’ll put Greg with them.”
“I’ll get on it,” Denver said, his voice and hands steady for the first time in too long.
“Thanks.” Now all Ryker had to do was convince Zara to go along with his plan.
Chapter
29
Zara smoothed down her jeans and squinted to see through the windshield. Snow piled up so quickly, the wipers barely made a dent. “Maybe we should’ve waited.”
Ryker’s hold remained relaxed and sure on the steering wheel. “We need to take care of this before Heath and I head out on the serial killer case.”
Zara nodded. How crazy was the entire situation? “Shouldn’t you let the FBI handle it?”
“Yeah, because they’ve handled it well so far.” Sarcasm lowered his voice. He shook his head and swerved around a pile of ice. “I need you and Grams to hunker down in a safe house until we get back.”
“The police won’t like that,” she murmured.
“Doesn’t matter. You haven’t been arrested, and you don’t have to stay here. It’s time for a little vacation.” Ryker came to a stop in her driveway, sliding the last few feet on the snow-covered ice. “We need to hurry, sweetheart.”
Zara nodded. “I’ll be right back.” She slid from the truck and shut the door. Cold instantly snapped against her face, and she ducked her face down under her scarf before turning and jogging through the snow
to her neighbor’s door. Mrs. Ogleby was always up by early morning, so Zara knocked briskly.
The door opened, and the elderly lady peered out. “Goodness. Come in.”
Zara stepped inside, careful to keep her boots on the tile. Ferocious heat slammed into her. “Morning. I came for my mail?”
Mrs. Ogleby nodded and smoothed back her curly white hair. “Were you at your house last night? I could’ve sworn I saw lights.”
Zara paused, and her heart rate picked up. “No. I stayed with a friend.”
Mrs. Ogleby leaned to peer past her flimsy red curtains. “Is that your friend, dear? The hot pants in the truck?”
Zara bit her lip. “Yes. Hot Pants is my friend.”
“Very nice.” Mrs. Ogleby turned and grabbed several envelopes and a small package. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Zara glanced toward the truck. “Are you sure there were lights at my place?”
Mrs. Ogleby nodded vigorously. “Yep.”
“Thank you.” Zara turned and stepped back outside. Had the men come back to her place? If so, why? What in the world did they want with her? She slipped on the walk and quickly righted herself before plowing through the swirling snow and reaching the truck. She was breathless when she finally jumped in and closed the door.
“You okay?” Ryker asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, but Mrs. O. saw lights on at my place last night. Do you think those guys in black came back?”
Ryker frowned. “I don’t know. How about we get you back to my apartment, and then I can come take a look around?”
She shook her head, shoving everything into the glove compartment. She’d go through her bills later. “Let’s look around now.”
“No.” Ryker reversed the truck onto the street, his control firmly back in place. “Sorry, baby. There’s too much going on right now, and I need to get you to safety.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he quickly shook his head. What the hell? She could help search her own house, for goodness’ sake. “We’re going to have to work on this Neanderthal issue you have going on,” she muttered.
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