“With Debi.” She swallowed a quick breath. “And before you say anything, you are not, under any circumstances, staying.”
“If you say so.” For tonight he’d keep watch over her from outside. Maybe Debi had a dog house he could sleep in. “I’ll follow, make sure you get there safe.”
The gaze leveled at him was unyielding. “I’ve made it home safe and sound without you to babysit. It’s a little late for fake acts of chivalry.”
Ryder rubbed his chest. As barbs went, that one struck deep. He’d had reason to leave. Mad Dog’s situation was the tip of the spear. In his head, Ryder could still hear the soldier. They’re my life. Fear, actual fear had tightened Madigan’s voice as he spoke, looking at his bloody hands in denial. No way had Madigan wanted to kill his wife and kid, but they were dead all the same. “Your safety is my priority.”
“Whatever.” Lauren turned up the volume on the radio, shutting out any reply he might give.
He stepped out of the truck. “Lock it.”
She didn’t respond, but cranked the gearshift into reverse. The gears groaned. The pickup had been her grandfather’s ranch truck and had been ancient when the old man gave it to her. It was a rusted hunk of metal, and no one had been around to keep it maintained. He’d look at it tomorrow whether she liked it or not.
Lauren didn’t wait for his commentary. She was out of the parking lot and down the street before he made it to his bike. He pulled on the helmet to follow. Good thing he knew the route, because she lost him but quick. They were on the main road out of town before he caught up to her. The rusty truck spit enough exhaust to follow a mile back.
Traffic on the state highway on the way to Debi’s was clear this late, but cold bit his face as he raced to keep up with Lauren. She had to be in a pissy mood to speed.
So was he. Something bad was going down with the team. He’d spent the last six months traveling the country, checking in with his teammates. He was afraid seeing him would trigger memories best left forgotten, so he had stayed on the sidelines, but it was a damn lonely existence as he witnessed friend after friend withdrawing from the world. They were breaking connections from friends, family, and community. Rightly so.
What had happened with Mad Dog was reason enough to stay away from Lauren. He’d planned to break it off with her, let her go for good, so he met her in a public place where he wouldn’t be tempted. The best thing for her was a clean break, one guaranteed to keep her safe from him and the mess following him, but the minute he was alone with her, he couldn’t keep his hands off her.
The cold and the roar of the bike provided the perspective he needed. Lauren was smart, sexy, and sarcastic. And passionate. She could talk for hours on the topics she was most passionate about, and at one time, her passion had been building a life and a home with him. The townhouse meant nothing, but the look in her eyes as she planned their home, their lives, he had wanted that vision more than he’d ever wanted the Army.
His thoughts not on the road, Ryder downshifted up the hill where the old truck struggled to maintain momentum. Leaving Lauren without a word had been a dick move that left her open and vulnerable. The bank issue was his to solve before he did the right thing. She’d argue about the bank, because that was her way. She had taken care of herself since middle school, and she didn’t accept help well. He’d wanted to make her a part of the team, to show her what it meant to belong to something outside of a dysfunctional family, but then he’d gotten the call from Mad Dog that had derailed his life.
As he crested the hill, Ryder cursed himself. Lauren deserved better.
The truck took off with a jolt as if she’d rammed the accelerator. The bike responded faster than the truck, keeping close to her tail, but as they descended, her speed jumped too fast. Out of control. He surveyed the road ahead. No traffic, but the bottom of the hill curved tight around one end of the lake.
The idea she might be so anxious to get away from him sent Ryder’s mood plummeting. He slowed to give her space, but she continued the high-speed race down the hill. She’d never been pigheaded. She certainly never courted danger. As he debated his next move, her emergency flashers started blinking. Ryder accelerated to maneuver around to the driver’s side.
The truck swerved across the yellow line. A second later her hand waved madly out the window. Ryder pulled up next to the truck, but he couldn’t hear a word she said as she gestured wildly. Her face was flushed and her eyes wide. “Brakes,” she screamed.
Panic he recognized. The curve at the bottom of the hill was coming fast. He didn’t have time to extract her. Any other options were too dangerous and they didn’t have time. He lifted his hand into a fist and pulled back like pulling back on the emergency brake. She nodded and reached down beside the seat.
Not too fast, baby. If she pulled the lever straight back in one jerky movement, the truck would flip. He resented the calm, methodical thoughts flicking through his brain. His woman was in danger and his pulse and breathing remained steady. He wasn’t a heartless bastard, but his training kept him levelheaded.
Acrid smoke and screeching filled the night as the brakes burned hot. The truck slowed, but not fast enough. The curve loomed and if she hit the turn at her current speed, the truck was done for. It didn’t have airbags. It barely had functional seatbelts.
Come on, baby.
The clutch had snapped at the top of the hill. No brakes, and the curve approached at the speed of death. With a wish and a prayer, Lauren let adrenaline feed her strength. She yanked with everything she had. Each notch in the emergency brake jolted through her arm. Lauren gripped the steering wheel with one hand and the brake with the other. Both held her in the truck as the center of gravity shifted.
A second later, the truck tipped, paused while her heart triple-timed. Then the rusted hunk of metal twisted. She braced, expecting the impact on the driver’s side, but the truck flew ass over elbows across the highway.
The night spun, slow, so damned slow after careening down the hill. No moon, no stars, no light, just varying shades of black whipping past. The dark engulfed her, a violent twister of night sky and asphalt.
She closed her eyes against the spin. Metal twisted with an evil groan. Glass shattered, the higher pitch like a scream against the monster’s continual moan. Each impact slammed through Lauren, every ounce of flesh and bone shaken and stirred. Her teeth smacked together and her head slammed against the rear window.
The steering wheel hit next as her body rebounded from the first hit. The old metal wheel smacked her forehead and the world stopped spinning.
Ryder dropped his bike on a pullout opposite the curve. Pebbled glass, hay, and baling wire formed a debris field across the asphalt where the roof of the pickup hit. A bounce the other way, and he’d be fishing his wife out of the lake. Instead, the truck bounced off the guardrail and skidded through the deadly curve to slam into the hillside where it rolled into a shadowy ditch.
The new moon absorbed any light. This far out, there were no city lights and even less traffic. The dark embraced him as he rounded the perimeter of the upended truck. The silence was absolute. All he heard was the steady beat of his heart. The calmness angered him, but he slammed the rage into a box. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper now. Not ever.
The truck listed on the roof of the cab while the driver’s door rested against the embankment. “Lauren.”
No answer. The dark void didn’t hinder his vision as he examined the wreckage. Like a beast of prey, he saw better at night. The hill reminded him of the desert, a perfect perch for a sniper. Hell, a whole squad could park at the top and wipe out anything in a two-mile radius. Silent and still, the hill was the perfect vantage point for an ambush.
And that was the war talking. Ryder forced his mind into the present. The passenger door faced upwards so that his only way inside was to climb up and through the broken window. The wreck settled into a tight groove of a deep ditch. Ryder pulled himself up like climbing over a barrier, some
thing he’d done a hundred times in training. He lifted until he sat on the passenger door, which now faced the sky. The shattered window left a ragged hole. Lauren sprawled unmoving against the driver’s door.
Ryder eased himself into the mangled cab and tried to find a place to land without stepping on her. His foot came to rest on the steering column and he climbed down from there. Blood gushed against the tight skin of her forehead. Head wounds bled copiously. The oozing red didn’t make a fatal wound.
His heartbeat stayed steady. Damnit all to hell. What the fuck had they done to him? His wife was bleeding and he didn’t feel a twinge of panic. No fear. “Baby?”
No movement. She lay in a crumbled heap against the door and the dead grass of the embankment. The window had shattered before the truck came to a standstill. Nicks and cuts marred her pale skin. Ryder reached down to press two fingers against her throat where a pulse thrummed. He shouldn’t move her, so said the logical side of his brain. The predator inside warned him to get the hell out of the twisted tin can. Ryder ran a hand along the back of her head and neck, seeking further injuries. His fingers came up bloody. The sight should have sent him into a panic. Instinct told him she needed to wake up.
He patted her cheek, trying to be gentle. “Lauren, wake up,” he ordered. There was no time for soft. The impulse to move out was ingrained too hard and long in his skin. Staying in a broken mass of metal made them easy targets.
No. They weren’t at war. Settle down. But the nagging persisted. Only a dead man ignored his instincts. “Wake up and fight,” he said sharply.
The groan in her throat was almost too low to hear. Of course she wouldn’t respond to an order. “You’re late for class, Lauren. Wake up.”
Her eyes popped open. A hand went to her head. “Ryder, what—” She snapped upright, her butt sliding to the open window against the grass embankment. “The brakes.”
“Can you move?”
“I just did.” She ran a hand over her legs, exploring, looking for injuries, and brushing off shattered glass. “I think I’m good. Except the head.”
“Let’s go.” He hefted her to her feet.
A grimace twisted her pouty lips. She squared her shoulders and tried—failed—to imitate his swagger, something she’d done before when he didn’t respond the way she thought he should. “That was a heck of a spill you took, baby, maybe you should rest for a minute,” she mimicked in a deep voice. She glared at him. “Why, how sweet of you to worry, Ry,” she answered in a false voice, enjoying her one-sided conversation. “But I could really use a glass of wine and a bottle of aspirin. You’re such a sweetheart to suggest it.”
“Want a hot tub with that?” he asked with a wry grin.
“Wouldn’t turn one down.” A flush warmed her cheeks, and her eyes were clear and bright.
“Good news.” Ryder brushed a knuckle along her jaw. “Your smartass bone isn’t broken.”
“Bruised, though.” She rested her head on his chest. After everything, she still leaned on him. His heart fisted at the thought, so maybe he had a heart after all.
Ryder wrapped his arms around her. How could he do anything else? She squirmed closer, fitting into him and resting her head under his chin. Her hair tickled his nose. She smelled of floral shampoo and copper. He leaned back to get a better look at the cuts. “Took quite a header.”
She tilted her head to meet his gaze. “Scared me. When the brakes went to floor...” Her voice shook. “I thought I was road kill for sure.”
For a minute, so had he, and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it. He hadn’t been around to take care of the truck. He hadn’t been there to catch Lauren. What else had he missed?
Lights flickered as a passing car made the tight curve and continued down the highway. “They didn’t stop,” Lauren complained.
“You’re pretty low in the ditch. Probably can’t see it in the dark. Come first light, it’ll be visible.”
“Fat lot of good that would do me.” She gestured with her hands to emphasize her point. He loved the way she talked with her hands. She was so full of life she couldn’t keep it contained. Everything about her vibrated with energy. If people had a life force, hers burned brighter than any he’d ever seen. “If you hadn’t been there—” A hitch cracked her voice.
“I was.”
“I’d have been stuck all night.”
He flinched, because the result could have been worse than being stuck beside the road all night. “You aren’t stuck all night. I’m here.”
“For how long?” Her gaze dared him to answer.
She wanted to know how long he’d stay, but Ryder didn’t have an honest answer. He couldn’t tell her the truth. He dropped a gentle kiss to her lips. Warm and sweet. “Hop up.” He patted her back and eased away. Lacing his fingers to make a stirrup, he hoisted her through the passenger window. Her butt hit the cold metal and her feet dangled.
“Grab my purse.”
“Where?”
“Under the seat.”
Under the seat was now the sidewall. Ryder peered under, but Little Debbie wrappers papered the floor/wall. “We need to talk about your eating habits.”
“Not now, Ryder. Someone’s coming.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Time to go.” He brushed her feet the rest of the way out before climbing through. Headlights glistened like search lights near the top of the hill. Every instinct pushed him to get the hell out before the enemy zeroed in on their location.
Enemy? Shit, his brain was still fucked. And that right there was why he needed to stay away from Lauren. If he didn’t get his head screwed on straight, she’d end up like Madigan’s wife. Ryder didn’t fear dying, but Lauren’s death was an unacceptable loss.
Careful to avoid aggravating her injuries, Ryder lifted her from the truck. The oncoming car took the hill slower than the first, so the driver might catch a glimpse of the crash. “My bike is on the other side of the road. We don’t have time to get to it. Come on.” He led her along the shoulder of the road towards the bike. When the headlights drew closer, he pulled her into a drainage ditch that led under the highway, and then shielded her body with his.
Lauren wiggled, trying to break free. Blood still trickled from the wound on her forehead. “Ryder, they can help.”
Doubt and guilt plagued him as lights flashed through the opening. After the last few months, he didn’t trust anyone, not even a random stranger, because they weren’t always random. The lights passed before Ryder lifted his head to the outside and watched the vehicle continue around the curve.
The shove against his shoulder brought his attention back to Lauren. “There went our help.”
“I’ll get you to Debi’s. Trust me. I don’t—” The words strangled in his throat. There was only so much he was willing to talk about, even with Lauren.
“You don’t what? Spit it out, Ryder. Don’t go all closed off on me again.”
Had he done that? Closed off from her? Separating himself from Lauren was like slingshotting out of planetary orbit. She was the center of his life, the planet he revolved around, but when Ryder closed his eyes at night, he still saw Mad Dog’s bloody hands. If it hadn’t been for the horror in Madigan’s foyer, he’d never have had the strength to leave.
“Ryder.” Her voice snapped in anger. “You don’t what?”
She deserved an answer, to this at least. “I don’t trust roadside strangers.”
“Oh, but...” Her body deflated under his. She reached up and ran a hand over his jaw and tears watered her eyes. “But this is Texas.”
As if that said it all. “Not everyone’s a Good Samaritan, and because it’s Texas, I...”
“Finish. The sentence.” Her teeth ground together as she spoke.
“It’s Texas. Everybody’s uncle is carrying a gun, Lauren. Do you not understand the inherent danger?”
“Okay.” She adjusted her shoulders, settling deeper into the cool darkness. “Say that’s true—not that I bel
ieve everyone’s bad—but, Ryder, if anyone tried, you’re the biggest badass I’ve ever seen. You walked between armed deputies and an armed soldier. You didn’t even break a sweat and it was a hundred degrees outside.”
The way she saw him made his chest swell, but she didn’t know the truth. “That was an extreme situation and you weren’t there.” If she had been, his first priority would have been her protection.
“But you have skills, Ryder, and a gun.” She rubbed a hand over the gun in the holster imprinting through his shirt. “One Texan with a handgun on the side of the road isn’t enough to stop you. They can’t hurt you.”
But they could hurt her. Ryder swallowed. The night settled around them. It was easier to talk in the dark. He ran a hand over her jaw. The scratches on her face didn’t disguise her beauty. That she’d agreed to coffee the first morning they met was a beyond comprehension. That she married him was a miracle.
She adjusted again, wiggling her butt against the hard ground.
“Are you okay?” He had her pressed into the packed dirt of a drainage ditch. Thankfully dry, but the night was cold, contrasting to her heat underneath him. She’d been under his skin from the moment he’d laid eyes on her across the bar. Rose had given him hell, but the pretty girl in red cowboy boots was worth the razzing he took. She was the answer to every wish he’d ever made.
What can I get you gentlemen?
He’d had to nearly saw off his tongue to bite back the answer in his head. All he’d needed was Lauren, before he’d even known her name. Having her underneath him again felt right; the first right thing in six months. She was his wife, warm and willing beneath him. He braced his weight on his arms. “How’s the head?”
“Hurts.” She swiped a hand over the gash. The blood had slowed to a trickle, so there’d be no need for stitches.
Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) Page 4