"That's what he said. Why?"
"Then he needs to go back to car school because this one's a Mercedes."
"Definitely not our car." Colter pressed down on the accelerator and moved to the end of the block, stopping at the light. "Where to next?"
"Nowhere." Ox tossed the printout on the seat between them. "That was the last one."
"Dammit." Colter slammed his hand on the steering wheel, hit the gas and turned right with a squeal of rubber against pavement.
"Maybe Boomer and Flare had better luck."
"He would have called. No, you were right—this was a waste of damn time."
"You're really hung up on her, aren't you?"
"What?" Colter took his eyes off the road long enough to glare at his passenger. "What are you talking about?"
"Boomer's sister. Allison. You got a thing for her."
"What makes you say that?"
Ox hooked one finger around the nosepiece of his sunglasses and lowered them just enough to give him a knowing look. He shoved them back in place with a small laugh. "Yeah, thought so."
"You thought wrong. We're just friends."
"Uh-huh. Sure you are."
"We are." Friends. Is that what they really were, or was there something else going on? Colter had no idea. Three days ago, he would have said friends was the only thing they could be. She was Boomer's sister, that hadn't changed. And he'd convinced himself that nothing could happen between them because of that.
Except something had happened and Colter suddenly realized he wanted more. A lot more.
Fuck.
"Friends with benefits, at least."
"What?"
"Well, it's obvious there's something going on between you. I mean, the sparks were flying. I figure you're at least friends with benefits."
"You don't know what the hell you're talking about."
"Don't I?" Ox's mouth curled at one corner. "Nothing wrong with having one of those. I used to have one myself."
"Yeah? What happened to her?"
Ox's smile flattened. "She married my best friend."
"Oh, damn."
"Shit happens. Then he was stupid enough to get himself killed overseas and that was that." Ox lowered his sunglasses again, his hazel eyes flashing with dry humor. "And no, it wasn't friendly fire. I was in a different part of the country."
"I never thought—"
"Other people did."
"Including his wife?"
Ox shrugged and turned away. "Don't know. Never talked to her after that."
"At all? Not even to check on her?"
"No."
"You weren't even the tiniest bit tempted to see her? Try to pick things back up?"
"Negative."
"Why not?"
"Because, dipshit: she married my buddy. I wanted nothing to do with her after that."
"That's fucking cold."
"Like I said: shit happens."
"And I think you're full of shit."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
Colter slid a knowing glance in the other man's direction, wondered if he was pushing things, decided he didn't care. He was in that kind of mood. "I think you were more than friends-with-benefits and her rejection stung more than you want to admit."
Ox turned in his seat, lowered his glasses again. "You know there's a hundred different ways I can kill you and make it look like an accident, right?"
"You can try."
"No trying about it..." Ox's voice trailed off and he leaned forward, brows pulled low over his eyes as he studied the traffic crossing in front of them. "Isn't that Boomer's car?"
"He's driving his truck."
"I didn't say anything about Boomer driving. I asked if that was his car."
"Where?"
"There." Ox pointed to the left. Colter followed with his gaze, quickly caught sight of a car that looked identical to Boomer's.
And the woman driving it looked exactly like Boomer's wife, Hannah.
"Fuck."
"Damn. His sister and his wife? You got balls, man."
Colter ignored him, hit the gas and shot out in front of the cross-traffic. Horns blared and tired squealed as he cut off a handful of cars and turned south, following Hannah.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"Following them."
"You risked getting us hit because you want a piece of ass?"
"Knock it off, Ox. This isn't the time."
"Easy for you to say—you're not on the bleeding side." Ox straightened in the seat and readjusted his sunglasses. "Now tell me why we're following Boomer's wife."
"It's not just Hannah—Allison is with her. They're not supposed to be down here. And they sure as hell aren't supposed to be heading where I think they're heading."
"Which is where, exactly?"
"Where Allison's car was shot up."
"Shit. Does your girl have a death wish or something?"
"I think she's looking for Shonda."
"Who?"
"Shonda. The young girl I told you about."
"Well, she's persistent, I'll give her that much. Must get that from her bullheaded brother."
Colter clenched his jaw but said nothing. Persistent? That wasn't exactly the word he'd use. Stubborn. Hardheaded. Foolish. A few more he wouldn't say in mixed company. He tightened his hand around the steering wheel, forced himself to drop back so they wouldn't see him. He had no idea if Hannah would recognize his truck but he was sure Allison would. He couldn't risk either one of them seeing him, not yet.
Not until he figured out what the hell they were up to.
Hannah turned left and Colter waited, letting two cars go in front before he followed. Up two blocks, then a right. Up two more then a left. Where the hell were they going? Not to the same neighborhood they'd been in the other night—they were moving away from there, heading south and east.
Ox grabbed his arm. "Whoa. Hold up. Turn here."
"They're not—"
"No, but look. She's stopping."
Ox was right. Hannah had pulled in front of an empty spot and was now trying to back into it, stopping the traffic behind her. Colter made a quick right, executed a sharp U-turn in the middle of the street, and pulled over to the side. Hannah was still trying to park.
"Man, that's painful to watch. Doesn't she know how to parallel park?"
"Nobody knows how to parallel park." Colter braced his arms on the steering wheel and leaned forward, his eyes scanning all around. Why had she stopped here? There was nothing around. No shops, no restaurants. Just two neighborhood bars and some rowhomes skirting the edge of a park that was better known for its after-dark activities than family picnics.
"What the hell is she doing?"
"You mean besides fucking up the traffic?"
Colter turned his head, caught a flash of pink from the corner of his eye. He nudged Ox, pointed to the far end of the block. "Look."
"What am I looking at?"
"I think that's the girl Allison has been looking for." No, it was the girl she'd been looking for, standing at the end of the block, talking to a man. The man held his hand out and the girl reached up to take it, turned and started walking away with him.
Ox made a low noise in his throat, a cross between a growl and something even more ominous. "That's fucking sick. Dude needs to be castrated."
Colter started to agree then bit back an oath when Hannah's car shot forward and narrowly missed being broadsided. It sped up for half a block then brake lights flashed when Hannah hit the brakes. The passenger door flew open before the car had completely stopped and Allison jumped out, rushing toward the girl.
The man lurched back in surprise then released the girl's hand—and grabbed Allison's arm instead, shaking her.
Colter threw the truck in gear and took off, flying past Hannah's car and sliding to a stop with a squeal of rubber. He was out the door, running toward Allison, Ox right behind him.
"Let go of her. Now."
The man jerked back
in surprise, the anger on his grimy face quickly morphing to shock. He released Allison's arm and turned, ready to run, but Ox was already flying through the air. Bodies collided and both men hit the ground, Ox on top. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the air, accompanied by Ox's low growls and quiet threats.
Colter grabbed Allison's arms, turned her away from the two men and stared down at her.
"What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"
"He had Shonda!"
"I don't care. Dammit, Allison, you need to stop risking your life like this."
"Let go! She's going to get away again." She struggled against him, got one arm free and turned to the side. "Shonda!"
But the girl was already gone, fled to who knew where. Colter bit back another oath, motioned for Hannah then pinned her with a lethal glare. "Make sure she doesn't move."
He hurried over to Ox, yanked him off the stunned man and pulled him to his feet. "Enough. We need to go."
Ox nodded, turned to leave, then stopped and leaned over the groaning sack of shit. "If I ever see you with another little girl, I'll personally cut off your dick and choke you with it. You fucking perv."
The man lurched to his feet, one eye already swollen shut, the other wide with fear. He nodded then started running, stumbled and fell and got back up, never once looking behind him.
Colter turned toward the two women then stopped, stunned at the expressions on their faces. Hannah was pale, a little shaky, and looked like she had no idea what had just happened.
Allison, on the other hand, was furious. Beyond furious.
And every bit of that fury was directed at him.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Allison sat in one corner of the sofa in the club basement of Ryder's house, afraid to so much as breathe, let alone shift positions. Her foot was falling asleep, sharp little tingles shooting up her leg. Moving wasn't an option, though. If she did, the rage-infused air would combust and burn them all.
She'd seen her brother angry before, but nothing like this. He'd been a hothead growing up, swaggering around with his macho self-importance, trying to impress Hannah even back then. That temper had been more controlled after he enlisted, finally contained and directed at whatever heroic missions he constantly trained for. But it never disappeared, not as far as she could see. He still thought he knew best, still tended to be entirely too protective and unreasonable. But even at his worst, during those miserable teenage years when he thought he knew everything, she'd never seen him quite this furious.
Or this quiet.
It would be better if he just started yelling, like he used to do when they were kids. Maybe pound on his chest or put his fist through the wall—not that she'd ever seen him do that, but she wouldn't be surprised if he had.
But he didn't do anything like that. Instead, he just stood there, his arms folded across his broad chest, his dark eyes cold and blank.
Colter stood off to the side, his posture a perfect imitation of her brother's. Neither man had said a word, not since Ryder's initial stunned oath when Colter had first told him what they'd done. She couldn't even fault Colter for embellishing anything because he'd given her brother only the most basic facts.
And somehow, that had made it sound so much worse than it really had been.
Yes, she'd been stupid. Impulsive. She hadn't been thinking clearly. She had seen Shonda, saw her start to leave with that man, and had reacted. That's all there was to it. She hadn't even been looking for Shonda—they'd been heading back to her small apartment because she had forgotten something and seeing Shonda had been nothing more than a fluke.
Ryder wouldn't care about that. In his eyes, she was already guilty. Of what, she didn't know, but it didn't matter. As far as he was concerned, she was always guilty.
She slid her eyes to the right, felt a moment of guilt when her gaze rested on Hannah. She sat at the other end of the sofa, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes carefully lowered.
Allison was suddenly struck by the gross unfairness of it all. If Ryder wanted to be angry at her, fine, then he could be angry all he wanted. But he had no business being angry at Hannah, not when she hadn't done anything.
"If you're going to yell at me—"
"Yell?" Ryder's voice was dangerously quiet, too soft and too low. Allison cleared her throat, forced herself to meet his stony gaze.
"Yes, yell."
"I'm beyond that stage, Allison." He uncrossed his arms and jammed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "What you did—"
"I didn't do anything!"
"And that right there is the problem, Allison, because you actually believe that."
"But I didn't! All I did was try to talk to Shonda—"
"You confronted a pedophile! Do you have any idea what could have happened?"
"He wouldn't have done anything."
"You don't know that, do you? You don't know if he had a knife. Or a gun. If he was dangerous or not."
"He wasn't—"
"You. Don't. Know." Each clipped word fell from his mouth with the sharpness of accusation. "He could have hurt the girl. Or you. Or my wife."
Allison jerked back. Not just from the contained fury in Ryder's voice, but from the realization that he was honestly, truly worried. She opened her mouth. Closed it. Shook her head and finally spoke.
"I didn't think about that."
"Because you don't think, Allison. You never do. You just rush right in, convinced you're going to save the world, and screw anyone else who might get hurt in the process."
"I wouldn't have let anything happen to Hannah."
"Really? And what would you have done to stop it?"
"I—" She stopped, cleared her throat and lifted her chin. "I don't know, but I wouldn't have let anything happen."
"Like you didn't let anything happen the other night when you were almost killed?"
"I wasn't almost killed!" She yelled the lie, wished she could take the words back as soon as they left her mouth. She started to apologize, choked the words back when Ruder shook his head and stepped away.
"There's no getting through to you, is there?"
"I don't even know what that means."
"You know what? Forget it. I'm done." Ryder tossed his hands out to the side then dropped them. "You want to risk your neck saving the world, then go for it. But don't come crying to me for help when all hell breaks loose."
"Ryder, wait."
He met her gaze, shook his head and turned around, waving one hand in dismissal. Of the situation? Of her arguments? Of her?
Maybe all three.
He disappeared up the stairs. A few seconds later, the front door slammed closed, the sound echoing through the basement with a ring of finality. Allison swallowed against the growing lump in her throat and sat back, rubbed the palm of her hand against her thigh as another heavy silence fell over the basement.
She finally cleared her throat, forced a smile to her face and turned to Hannah. "He's overreacting again. As usual."
"Allison, stop." Hannah pushed to her feet, anger and worry creasing her face and dulling her eyes. "He's right."
"What?"
"I said he's right. What you did today...it was stupid, Allison. You could have been hurt."
"He wouldn't have hurt me."
"You didn't see his face when he grabbed you, Allison. I did. He was going to hurt you. He did hurt you."
"But he didn't—"
"Look at your arm!" Hannah stepped forward, grabbed Allison's right arm and held it up. "Look! That's how hard he grabbed you, Allison. Hard enough to leave marks!"
Allison looked down, stared at the thick ring of fresh bruises on her forearm. She frowned, thinking it was a trick of the light, then ran her fingers over them and winced at the tenderness of her flesh. "I—I didn't realize—"
"I know you didn't. And I think that scared me just as much because he could have done anything and you wouldn't have known it until it was too late.
" Hannah released her arm and stepped back, blinking away tears. She watched Allison for a long minute then turned and headed for the stairs.
"Where are you going?"
"To find Ryder."
"He'll be fine."
Hannah paused with one foot on the bottom step and looked at Allison over her shoulder. "Yeah, he will. But right now, he's upset and worried about you."
"He's not—"
"Yes, Allison, he is. I don't know why you keep convincing yourself that he doesn't care but he does. He worries about you more than I think you've ever given him credit for."
Allison watched her best friend walk away, heard the front door open and close a minute later. And then...more silence. She shifted on the sofa, risked glancing at Colter and immediately wished she hadn't. He stood in the spot he'd been in through this entire ordeal, his arms folded in front of him, his face completely expressionless.
"I guess you think I was wrong, too, huh?"
Colter watched her for a long minute, his jaw clenched hard enough that the muscle jumped in his cheek. He uncrossed his arms and moved toward her, each step even and measured, not stopping until he towered over her. Even then he didn't stop because he leaned down, crowding her until she sat as far back as she could. He braced one hand on either side of her shoulders, leaving her no escape. His dark eyes burned with an emotion she couldn't read and she wanted to look away, forced herself to look away, but she couldn't.
"The first night I saw you, you were confronting some punk on a street corner. The second night I saw you, some guy was holding a knife against you."
"I—"
"Today, some fucking pervert laid his fucking hands on you hard enough to leave bruises."
Allison blinked, more stunned by the harsh language than his harsh voice. She opened her mouth, snapped it shut with an audible click when Colter leaned even closer.
"And the other night, I watched as someone shot up your fucking car—with you in it. Do you have any idea what was going through my head, Allison?"
She tried to speak but couldn't, finally shook her head.
"I thought you were dead. I opened that door fully expecting to find your body shredded by bullets and your blood seeping into the seats. Do you have any idea what it's like, thinking someone you care about has just been slaughtered in front of you?"
The Savior: COLTER (Cover Six Security Book 6) Page 12