Silence reigned as shiny faces stared at her like she’d walked out of a porn video. Maybe they thought her outfit was some sort of instructor role play. Lauren set her coffee on the desk and tried not to sigh. The way they looked at her—the boys especially—proved the outfit was as bad or worse than she feared. Debi had had her revenge, because Crawford would hear about this before the end of the day.
Lauren straightened her shoulders. The last week had been anything but normal. Mayhem was becoming a way of life, but she still had a job to do. She might not always have a husband, but thanks to her education, she’d always have a career teaching young minds, most of whom wanted to be anywhere but history class this early in the day. She took a deep breath and smiled. Deep down, abysmally deep some days, she loved teaching. And today, teaching gave her the break she needed from Ryder’s intensity.
When she glanced back out the door’s window, he was gone. The thought of being alone sent a shiver up her spine.
CHAPTER NINE
Lauren raced down the hall like the hounds of hell chased her through the administration building. At her office, she grabbed the textbook for her next class. When she neared Crawford’s office, she doubled her speed. If she went fast enough, maybe he wouldn’t notice, because nothing about her appearance screamed academic. The look screamed desperately seeking attention, which was seriously frowned upon in academic circles. She made it nearly two doors past when Crawford’s voice called her back.
“Lauren, dear.”
Ha. The “dear” didn’t fool her. Crawford was not some cuddly grandfather figure who would give her a kindly pat on the head for a job well done. Lauren lifted her shoulders and marched back to Crawford’s office, her heels clicking on the tiles. She felt like the whore of Babylon. The second she walked through his open door, she smiled. “Yes, Professor?”
And there sat Ryder in the brown leather chair next to Crawford, looking like a preferred guest. One booted foot rested on the opposite knee, and he looked as comfortable here as he did in a fight. This was not going to be good.
“Lauren, dear, Ryder was just telling me of your horrible accident last night.”
Her hand automatically flew to her bandaged head. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as he made it sound.” She glared at Ryder sitting calmly and silently watching the byplay.
“Your truck brakes failed?”
“Yes, but—”
“And the truck flipped?” Crawford would have made a great prosecutor if he’d had a heart for it, but he lived and breathed for the academic world. He wore tweeds even in the hottest weather, and the room smelled of pipe tobacco even though smoking indoors was patently illegal.
“The truck? Well, yes, but—”
“You should have told me.” Crawford’s face wrinkled in concern. Real or imagined? He wasn’t an unkind man, but he certainly wasn’t a teddy bear. His wrinkles and balding pate showcased a career teaching history long enough to make history. “I would have insisted you stay home and heal.”
“Well, I—” Lauren shuffled her feet. Ryder was going to pay for this. “I didn’t want to worry you, Professor.” Her excuse sounded lame. She hadn’t even considered calling in sick. “I can finish my classes for the day.”
Crawford’s watery gaze turned to Ryder as if seeking his advice. Dear God, what had Ryder done? Threatened the professor?
“Ryder tells me you didn’t get any sleep, considering the accident and time in the hospital.”
Sleep was optional for PhD candidates. “True, but—”
“Stop,” Crawford ordered, his deep voice kindly. “I respect your dedication, but we can’t have our star pupil getting ill.”
Star pupil? Apparently the knock on the head had done some serious damage, because she was definitely dreaming.
“I’ll take your afternoon class. It’s been too long since I taught an undergraduate history course.” Crawford glanced through his reading glasses at her schedule. He’d printed her schedule? What had Ryder done? “We’ll get a sub for the rest of the week. You need time to recover.”
“Professor, while I appreciate—”
“Enough.” Crawford stood and crossed the room to pat her shoulder. In Ryder’s presence, Crawford morphed into the stereotypical—and unlikely—professor with a heart. Lauren’s bruises throbbed under his hearty pat. “I don’t want to see you on campus until next week. And bring Ryder with you.” The old man showed yellowing teeth in a frightening grin. Ryder stood and the men shook hands. “His take on history is colored by the military of course, but he has some fascinating theories. I’d like a chance to pick his brain.”
Lauren groaned. Now it made sense. The academic world was the good old boy’s program, and Ryder had a penis. Damnit all to hell. The one time Crawford cared a whit about her, and it was because her husband had an interesting mind. She smiled tightly. “Of course.”
Two steps down the hall and Lauren spoke around a bitter smile. “What did you do?”
“Just told him the truth.”
“Right, because the hospital happened.”
“Did you want me to mention the exploding meth house?”
Lauren dropped her books back at her desk. She patted her arms and pockets, looking for car keys she didn’t need and the purse she didn’t want to carry on Ryder’s bike. It hurt to ask the next question, but she was at his mercy. “What’s the plan?”
“Lunch.”
Lauren crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to take me to lunch?”
“Sure.” He grabbed her arm and escorted her down the hall and into the quad. “An army marches on its stomach.”
The quote was one of Ryder’s favorite. “Frederick the Great?”
“No. I’m quoting my TI in basic training.”
Ryder twined his fingers through hers, effectively silencing her. She’d always liked his public displays of affection. Kissing, holding hands, the feel of his touch against the small of her back. Small acts of possession. Maybe she was as much of a throwback as Dr. Crawford, because she’d missed the feel of Ryder’s large hand around hers. He rubbed a thumb over the heel of her hand as they walked. The easy strength made her feel safe.
The sun shone down, filtering through the bare branches of the trees, creating lines of light and shadow on the bench where he stopped. A memory whispered in the shade, one better left in the dark. Lauren’s heart pounded. “Don’t even think about it.”
He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Let me.”
She shook her head. “Bad idea.”
He stared at her face while he ran his thumbs down her jawline. Gentle, so very gentle for a man so formidable. The touch barely registered, as soft as a spring breeze. Her nipples peaked in anticipation. This was where he’d kissed her after their first official lunch date. He’d come by to treat her to lunch between classes, and before she went back to work, he’d pulled her aside and planted one on her. She’d floated on an emotional high the rest of the day.
Today, he’d maneuvered her this way intentionally. Strategically, like a soldier in combat. Lauren wanted to be angry at the manipulation, but her body leaned into his as if Ryder pulled the strings.
Really bad idea, yet when he lowered his head, she was helpless to stop him. She ran her hands down his sides and moaned. The ridges of muscle were better than a dream. She thought she had lost him, and the loss had changed her. Running her hands over him was an unexpected gift, one that would alter her yet again. Firm muscles twitched at her touch. The soldier was as powerful as they came, but he quivered at her touch. A sense of power invaded her veins. He used the hands at her jaw to tilt her head and he dove deep, an answer to her unspoken prayer. His tongue battled hers. Lauren responded with a hunger that time and anger could not diminish. In his arms, she felt protected, safe and for once, not alone.
Tears threatened, the memory of his first kiss mingled with the moment until she couldn’t contain her reaction. Life reduced to the necessities
: light and air and Ryder. She ran her tongue over his. The growl of pleasure emanating from his throat sent chills through her body. She needed closer, wanted the feel of him pressed along her length. His hands slid down her arms leaving fire in their wake to land on her hips. He pulled her closer still, until the hard ridge of his erection pressed against her belly.
She moaned his name, and even she heard the erotic demand. Desire flashed soul deep and wouldn’t be sated with a simple kiss. She wanted to wrap herself in him and forget the pain of their past. A group of laughing girls walked behind them and pulled Lauren from the hypnotic moment. Ryder was a dangerous man. It wouldn’t take much for him to pull her back into his view of the world. They stared at each other. His ragged breath spoke of his own struggle with desire. His eyes were hooded, hiding any emotions. He lifted his hand back to caress her bruised jaw. “Come on, let’s eat.”
Lauren followed like a freaking pet. The kiss left her a jumbled mess of confusing emotions. She wanted Ryder, but the hurt of the past six months wouldn’t disappear. She was terrified it could happen again. They’d gotten their food before her brain reengaged. It was his wallet that snapped her out of it. Tucked in with his cash was a dried leaf sealed in plastic. Oh, dear, her heart was definitely going to get involved. “Is that...”
He nodded tightly, not meeting her gaze, and folded up his wallet, tucking it out of sight but not out of mind. The leaf was from the tree outside the cafeteria; a reminder of their first kiss. How could a man who kept such a memento end up leaving?
The line pushed them forward, but Lauren was struck numb. Ryder held the tray with one hand while holding Lauren with the other. Across the room, Beth and Joe sat next to each other, leaning in as if the rest of the world didn’t matter. Watching them brought memories that haunted her, pained her. She gripped Ryder’s hand tight and altered her direction to pass Beth’s table.
“Hey, Professor.” Beth’s eyes took in Ryder from his thick black boots to his untamed mane. Everything about Beth’s gaze showed primal interest. Even sitting next to a boy her age, Beth knew the difference between the boy at her side and the man standing next to Lauren.
Ryder rubbed a hand along her spine, easing the instant spike of jealousy she shouldn’t feel. “I’m Ryder. Professor Ryder’s husband.”
“Oh.” Beth shook his hand limply, with just enough disappointment in her voice to make Joe sit up straighter. He introduced himself, and when he sat back down, he scooted his chair closer to Beth. Lauren smiled at the proprietary move. Joe might be young, but he had the moves down pat. Did they teach territorial behaviors in basic training?
“Beth said you were in a car accident last night.” Joe placed an arm behind Beth’s chair.
Behind her, Ryder stiffened. He wasn’t much for chitchat, and he definitely didn’t like sharing. He lived in a world of need to know. No one needed to know his business.
“Is that what caused the bruising? Because the one on your cheek looks more like a fist.” Joe cast an accusatory glance at Ryder.
The growl emanating from somewhere deep in Ryder’s soul went beyond anger. She reached back to grab Ryder’s hand and squeeze. “Nope. All car accident.” She turned her attention back to Beth. “I wanted to let you know that you got your wish. I won’t be teaching class this afternoon.”
“Yes.” Beth did a fist pump in celebration.
“Dr. Crawford’s taking over.” Lauren glanced at the nearest wall clock. “I wouldn’t be late if I were you.”
“Shit. Oh, sorry, Professor.” Beth scooted her chair back and grabbed her tray. With a last dark glare at Ryder, Joe stood and walked out with Beth. By the time they reached the door, Joe’s hand rode the small of her back.
“Well that was fun.” Nothing like having a complete stranger insult your husband. Ryder was a lot of things—distant, evasive, and overbearing came to mind—but he would never hurt her physically. Lauren followed Ryder to a table near the exit.
As always, Ryder took the seat against the wall. “Who’s the guy?”
“Soldier from Fort Bliss. They met last night at the bar.”
“Sounds sketchy.”
“That’s how I met you.” And look how that turned out. Lauren grabbed her bowl of soup from the tray. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to imply—”
“That’s exactly what he meant.” Ryder chewed on his sandwich for several minutes, his expression distant. “Is that what people think? That I hit you?”
Lauren dropped the spoon into her soup. “No one thinks that.”
“Except the grunt.”
“Okay. So Baby Face Joe thinks you have mean stamped on your face. He was trying to make you less attractive to Beth.” And good luck with that, because there was no comparison between Ryder’s rugged appearance and the innocuous Joe. “Can I have a bite of your sandwich?”
He slid his plate across the table. Lauren lifted the roast beef to take a bite. Something made a popping noise when she opened her mouth. Each bite sent stabs of pain through her jaw. She swallowed the bite nearly whole and dropped the sandwich back to the paper plate. She shoved it back across the table. “I think I’ll stick to soup.”
Ryder frowned. Only Ryder could make a frown look so undeniably attractive. His strong eyebrows slashed over deep green eyes and his firm lips pressed together. The hint of stubble gave his strong jaw the look of marbled granite. “Did I hurt you when I...”
“Kissed my brains out?”
“Answer the question.”
Lauren smiled, and then winced at the pain. “Honestly, I didn’t notice. I was too busy.” Busy wishing things were different. That he’d never left. That she trusted him. That she wasn’t so alone. God, she was having an existential crisis in the middle of the campus cafeteria.
“Don’t try to make me feel better.” The guilty tone brought the lost boy look to his face. The look that triggered her need to nurture. She batted it down.
“Fine. You shouldn’t have kissed me. Not because it hurt my bruised face, but because it bruised my heart.” The honest words simply popped out. What had happened to her control? And was that tears in her voice? Unacceptable. The muscles tightening her throat flexed. “Now finish your lunch.”
Late afternoon sun peeked into the stingy motel window near the door, casting shadows on the industrial blah carpet. Highway noise filtered through the thin walls. Lauren stared out, zoning in and out of the conversation between Ryder and Rose.
“Both the brakes and the clutch cable were cut,” Rose said. “I climbed under the truck myself. There’s no doubt.”
“Then not a coincidence.” Ryder rubbed a hand over her thigh.
“Where’s my truck now?” Lauren shifted her gaze from the window.
Rose adjusted his position in the crappy dining chair. “I had a buddy tow it to your friend Debi’s, but, sweetheart, there’s not much worth salvaging.”
Lauren tried not to let the loss hurt her. She’d liked her granddad’s old farm truck. It made her feel rugged and independent. Plus it was her only mode of transportation. One more semester, that’s all she needed, but right now, the weight of life made that semester feel insurmountable. Leaning her elbows on the laminate tabletop, she rested her head in her hands.
Ryder rubbed her neck. Had he always been so physical? Yes, he’d like to put hands on her. Not to show the world she was his—although that was a factor—but he liked to reach out and touch. Lauren fought tired tears. “What did those men say when you, uh, interrogated them?”
“They were paid to acquire you by a man named Smith,” Rose answered.
“You mean Smythe with a Y?”
“That’s the man. You know him?”
Lauren lifted her head. “Yes, that slimy son of a carpetbagger is the realtor who foreclosed on our townhouse.”
Ryder pushed back from the table and stood. “And why did he want to acquire you?”
The emphasis sent fear rolling in her gut, making her sick inside. Someone she knew, a man she’
d been alone with, had paid those men to kidnap her. It was demented. “Maybe because I turned down his offer to be my sugar daddy.”
“Jesus, Lauren.” Ryder paced to the mirrored closet and back. “How did that happen?”
He was gone, that’s how it happened. She met his gaze and saw the realization in his eyes. “We were at the townhouse doing a final walkthrough.”
Ryder looked at her with the intensity of the summer sun. The key was to avoid getting burned. “Did he touch you?”
“No, Ryder, he was a complete gentleman when he suggested we hook up to keep me off the street.”
Ryder cursed her sarcasm as he stalked her with the controlled strength of a predator playing with his food. “What did you do?”
The inference lit her fuse. “Gee, Ry, I don’t know. I think I said, ‘What the hell. It’s not like I have a husband.’”
“Answer the question. Did. He. Touch. You?” The tendons in his neck flexed and his cheeks flushed an angry red.
Rose stood and edged closer to the door. “I think I’ll just—”
“Stay. We’re not finished,” Ryder insisted. “Lauren?”
She shrugged. “He tried. I think I broke his nose.”
Ryder closed his eyes. “That put you pretty damned close.”
“I used the heel of the hand thing you taught me.” She sniffed with a mix of pride and shame. She hadn’t wanted to learn self-defense. Ryder had insisted. Even before they were married, he started teaching her to defend herself. “It sure bled a lot, so I really think I broke it.”
He moved close and scrubbed a hand through her hair. “Breaking noses seems to be your signature move.”
Not on purpose. “The first one didn’t hurt, just scared the bejesus out of me. The second one—with the guys last night—it hurt more to use my head.”
“Even injured, you used your head. You’re something else, baby.” Ryder sat back into his chair and turned her to face him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.” He rubbed a hand down her tender jaw and she leaned into his touch. “We’ll fix this. I will protect you.”
Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) Page 8