Ryker

by Nikki Ryker

  "You don't want to know the answer to that. It might creep you out."

  "Tell me anyway." I wrap my arms around his neck and pull myself closer. Yes, he has to be blushing, because I can feel the back of his neck heating.

  "Two and a half years. Ever since you first started attending the MC. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I wanted to ask you out but then Damian..."

  Then Damian had swooped in, seducing me into a web of lies that I didn't spot until it was too late. I don't know what expression is on my face, but it must be tragic because Ryker cradles my face in both his hands. My eyes swim with sudden tears.

  "Cleo, baby, don't cry."

  "I'm just...so stupid!" I say, disgusted with myself. "I went for Damian when all this time..."

  I could have had Ryker. A solid, brave, intelligent man who loved me from the start, before he'd even known me. A man who'd stuck around, trying to pick up the broken pieces that Damian left behind. A man who'd been steadfast even when I lusted after his best friend.

  "You're not stupid."

  "I am. You were right there, everything I could have ever wanted, and I just kept mooning over Cruz. I knew that he would never settle down with me, and yet I kept pushing."

  "He saved you from Damian and protected you at risk to himself. I can see why it happened."

  But he still looks pleased by my admission. I suppose some small part of him worried that I still loved Cruz. How could he doubt that I was in love with him after all we've gone through?"

  "I love you."

  "And I love you," he breathed. A brief hesitation then; "Marry me."

  I pull back to get a better look at his face, sure this is a joke. The earnestness I see frightens me. He's dead serious.

  "Ryker, we can't. I've only been living with you for two weeks. We've had sex four times. That doesn't a marriage make."

  "But we are raising your baby together. I love you and you love me. Doesn't it just make sense at this point?"

  Maybe, but I leaped without looking last time and I'm not going to do it again. The potential for heartbreak is too great. And what if someday Ryker decides that he'd rather have a woman who is undamaged? Where did that leave me?

  I climb off his lap and shake my head back and forth, trying to shoo the idea away. "I can't do this right now."

  Ryker reaches for me, but I take a few steps away, putting myself out of his reach. The hurt on his face nearly shatters my heart. A hard, guarded look enters his eyes and he let the hand drop to his lap.

  "I see."

  I can't do this right now. I just can't. I don't care that I'm in a pair of pajama pants and a borrowed T-shirt. I have to get out of this house before Ryker can pull me back with his sweet words and promise of a life together. Damian promised me that too, and the moment I moved in for good, he trapped me.

  Ryker calls after me when I seize my purse and head for the door.

  "Cleo, don't. You heard Cruz. It isn't safe."

  I pause only to seize a hat and umbrella hanging from the coat rack and pile my hair beneath it. Between the clothes and the hat, I'll be harder to recognize. If I keep my head down, maybe I'll be fine.

  Then I bang out the door and into the dark night, fleeing from Ryker and his impossible promises.

  16

  Ryker

  I'm so agitated I seize the all but abandoned pack of smokes from my dresser and light up right there in the house. I try to move to the opposite end of the house from Bryan. Pissed as I am, I'm not going to expose him to secondhand smoke. Moving outside the house just seems irresponsible at this point. The tip of the cig glows bright amber and I clench my eyes shut, trying not to think.

  It's a futile effort. The look on Cleo's face is burned into the back of my eyelids. The panicked look that flitted across her face makes my blood run cold.

  I lay my heart bare to her, confess the most secret desire I've ever had, and she runs. That didn't bode well.

  For the life of me, I can't figure out just what I've done wrong. True, we haven't been together long, romantically, but I'd been her friend and confidant for years now. Cruz and Holly had tied the knot within a few months of meeting each other. Surely Cleo and I have enough history that we've reached that point as well?

  And now she's out there in the night, just waiting to be snatched up by Trent. What do I do? Cleo's car is smashed in and probably dragged to an impound yard by now. My bike doesn't have any place fit for a child of Bryan's size. My truck needs repairs before it's drivable again.

  I shoot Cruz a text, telling him what's going on. I'll have to hope that he can track her down, though it kills me to put her fate in the hands of another man. Especially this man. But Cleo would murder me if I left Bryan alone to chase after her. And I have a feeling she doesn't want to be found.

  Why? Why the hell had she gone?

  The question spins around in my head so much I feel dizzy. I consider it so long and hard that I burn my fingers on the glowing tip of my cigarette. I douse it in the leftover glass of water I had by my bed before flicking it into the trash. I light another, just to have something to do. It feels like torture, dangling in the unknown, not knowing if she's safe.

  About twenty minutes later I'm down to my last cigarette and my phone dings. I pull it from my pants pocket, hoping desperately that the number is Cleo's. My spirits fall a little when it's Cruz instead.

  She's safe. She's at Rapture, having drinks with Holly. I'll have her back in an hour. She looks shaken up.

  I expel the smoke on a relieved breath. At least she's safe. Trent won't attack Rapture with Cruz there. Too damn dangerous, going against the other leader of the MC. If he attacks, it will be a cowardly ambush like Damian planned for Cruz. The McNeils' never did things. Cruz said Holly would be there, and Penny. If I trust anyone more than Cruz, it's Penny. The woman has a spine like steel and the cojones that matched any man in the Sleepless Spades. She'd die before she let Trent lay one finger on Cleo. If she isn't with me, I'm glad she's with them.

  Cruz will bring her back to me if he can. If she wants to come back. If I haven't scared her off for good. If, if, if.

  When the last cigarette is through, I leave the room with its haze of smoke and dump the polluted glass of water in the sink. I clutch the edges of the counter so hard that it creaks. It's too warm in here. I need to turn down the damn heater.

  How had I read the situation so wrong? I'd been so confident she'd say yes. And if I were being honest with myself, I wanted to be a dad. Bryan isn't mine, but I've given him more care and consideration than Damian or Trent ever would have. I check every night to be sure he's breathing, terrified of SIDS. This power play by Trent isn't because he gives a damn about his grandson. He wants to hurt Cleo. And he's succeeded.

  There was a practical edge to my proposal, though I'd never say it aloud to Cleo. A pair of parents is more effective when presenting to a court. If Bryan was in our custody instead of Cleo's, her chances of winning the case went up.

  But the proposal wasn't a business arrangement. It wasn't designed to put an end to legal concerns. I want her to stay by my side because she wants to be there, not because she's afraid. And I scared her off.

  "You're a fucking idiot," I mutter to myself. "You really think she's going to stay with you once this all blows over?"

  I didn't want to think that way. Cleo had seemed sincere.

  Think. Get over your fucking self pity and think. What's the reason?

  I force myself to consider the problem from all angles, instead of a wounded sense of pride. If I were in Cleo's head, what would be my reason to run off?

  Fear springs immediately to mind. Fear of me? No. She hadn't seemed frightened by me,. Frightened of the bone-headed moves I've pulled, certainly. But not afraid of me.

  It clicks into place and I clutch the countertop until my knuckles turn white. Of fucking course. Everything came back to Damian, didn't it? Bad enough the man had been a bastard in life. He was still causing p
roblems in death. He'd made promises to Cleo too, promising a life and commitment. And what had she gotten for buying into it? Pain. Fear. An unexpected pregnancy.

  I am the first man, aside from Cruz, who's given a damn. And we haven't been together long. If the proposal had come further down the road she might have been receptive. But now, with things so tense and so new? She must think it's a trap. She bolted.

  How did I convey that this isn't a snare? That I'm not the same bastard who beat her to a bloody pulp?

  Well, I'll start by killing Trent. If he wasn't here, hanging over us, things might have been different. Instead, he's dredged all those unpleasant feelings, letting them settle over the surface of Cleo's mind like so much pond scum.

  I stare out into the night through the kitchen window fixed above the sink. I've broken into a sweat, still too warm. And that's when I notice here's an odd flickering glow outside. The only comparison I can draw is when the power was down a few years ago and I was forced to light the house with candles. It's...firelight.

  And then the smell hits me. It's so familiar that I've almost blocked it out of my mind. It clings to the inside of my nostrils for a day or two every time I have to run into a burning building. The char. Wood burning. It clicks into place all at once, chilling my blood and sends me sprinting to the opposite end of the house. The light, the warmth, the smell.

  Someone has set a fire.

  And in the other room, a baby wails.

  17

  Cleo

  I'm dizzy before I even step inside Rapture. Probably a bad sign, since the only alcohol I've had wore off hours ago. I'm shivering and cold, but most of the rain slopped off the raincoat I draped over myself before leaving.

  I'm sure I look like a drowned raccoon compared to the rest of the women in the club. Cherry is performing for a group of admiring onlookers, most of them men. The only women I can spot in the strip joint that are fully clothed lounge over the bar, and Penny is flirting with the temporary hire, James. She raises a glass of Whiskey in salute as I approach.

  "She lives!" she slurs, and I can tell the party started early. Holly clutches a Shirley Temple, the designated driver. Not that it would have mattered much. I've only seen her drink once, and that was to dull the pain after being shot.

  "Sort of," I say, smiling.

  Penny scoots to a new barstool and pats the one she just vacated. "Sit down and have a drink with us."

  "I'm okay, really. I need advice more than booze."

  I slide into the vacated seat and Holly turns so she can face me full on.

  "What do you want to talk about? Besides having sex with Ryker?"

  Penny slops a bit of her drink back into the glass into her glass in shock. "No fucking way. You finally did it?"

  I squint at Holly. "How did you know?"

  Holly's smirk is indulgent. "I can tell. You looked guilty as hell, and you kept blushing whenever he touched you. So, was he good?"

  I motion the bartender over. I'm going to need a drink after all. He makes me a screwdriver and I sip it tentatively.

  "Yes. He's very good."

  Penny tips her glass back. I eye the long, lean line of her body enviously. She still looks like a million bucks, with a sheet of long, dark hair, and the same golden cast to her skin as Cruz's.

  "I'm just glad you two finally stopped dancing around it and fucked," Penny says. "It's been obvious that he's been after you for years."

  I heat once more in shame. Ryker had been right. The only person unaware of his affections had been me. All this time I could have had a good man and I let him loiter on the edges of my life.

  "He proposed to be," I mumble into my glass. I'm half-hoping the confession will be lost beneath the pumping bass and the buzz of conversation in the club. But I'm heard. Penny's glass thunks onto the edge of the table and she wraps her arms around me in a bear hug. That's when I know she is well and sloshed. Penny's not really the hugging type, even with her close friends. I can count on one hand the number of time's she's hugged me.

  "I'm so happy for you!" she crooned. Then she frowns. "And I'm the only one single now. That bites. I'm gonna have to hurry and find a man if I'm going to beat Kase to the end of the aisle."

  "Have you decided on a date?" Holly asks. "It took Cruz and I forever to agree."

  "No, we haven't. He proposed and I sort of...panicked. And that's why I'm here."

  Both women stare at me with matching expressions. It's an awkward combination of stunned disbelief and frustration.

  "You just ran out on him?" Penny asks, aghast.

  "Did you even give him an answer?" Holly demands.

  "No," It comes out as a half-sob. "I didn't. He's going to be so pissed. I messed up."

  "Why did you run?" Holly is sober and perceptive enough to dig deeper than my refusal. Penny looks ready to beat me over the head with her abandoned whiskey glass. Maybe I'd deserve that. I've hurt Ryker.

  "I told you. I panicked. We haven't been together long and the last man who asked me that was..."

  "Damian," Penny spits the name like a curse. "That little shit. Still fucking things up even after he's dead."

  My automatic response is to make excuses for him. I bite my tongue until I taste blood. That sort of thing is exactly my problem. I'm still making excuses for him, even in my head. That's how deeply the damage goes. He's dead and in the ground and his ghost still haunts me.

  Holly lays a gentle hand on my shoulder I turn to him, fresh tears stinging my eyes. "I fucked up, didn't I?"

  Her smile is a little sad. "Maybe. But I don't think you fucked it up for good. Ryker is a good man. He's not going to hold a little fear against you. Do you want to marry him, Cleo? Does he make you happy? If the answer is no, then you should tell him."

  "He makes me happy. So happy. I never thought I could have anything like this. He's a freaking teddy bear wrapped up in a giant's body. He loves me. He wants to protect me. And I keep hurting him. If I marry him, he's getting damaged goods. I'm broken, sold as-is."

  Holly's eyes go hard and her grip on my shoulder tightens. "No one gets to decide you're broken but you, Cleo. And Ryker doesn't think that. He thinks your goddamn perfect, I guarantee it."

  "You're not making him do anything," Penny adds, nodding her head. "He wants you. He's offering to take care of you for good. So the question is, do you want to marry him?"

  "I do," I whisper. "Not right now but maybe in six months or a year..."

  "Then that's what you need to tell him," Holly says gently. "It's not a no. It's a wait. He's man enough to take that answer."

  I sit up a little straighter. She's right, of course. And if I'd taken half a second to think, I might have come to that conclusion myself. Ryker isn't Damian. He's an endless bastion of patience. He'll give me a year if I ask. And in the meantime, he's not going to turn Bryan and I out. He'd do pretty much anything I asked. Because he really loved me.

  I throw my arms around each of their necks and draw them into a slightly tipsy hug. Our heads almost knock together and kiss each of them on the cheeks.

  "Gross," Penny says, wiping at her cheek. But the broad grin on her face belies the gesture.

  "Thank you two so much," I say, eyes brimming with tears again. I'm so grateful to the pair of them that I could kiss them all over again. "This is exactly what I needed."

  I gather up the cash I have on me, pay the bartender and then calculate if I have enough money to call a cab. It turns out I don't, so my options are to eat a piece of humble pie and call Ryker, or depend on Holly for a ride. I glance guilty at Holly, a little frightened at the tongue lashing I'll get from Ryker if I call him now. Maybe there's still a bit of the coward in me after all.

  "Can I bum a ride home?"

  "Sure," she says, finishing her Shirley Temple. "You okay here, Penny?"

  When Penny doesn't immediately answer, Holly pokes her shoulder. Penny is staring up at the TV screen mounted in a corner, eyes glued to the screen and even a sharp bark of her n
ame doesn't draw her attention to us. Without my conscious permission, I follow her gaze and find a sight that drops my heart right into my toes and makes me what to swallow my own tongue in panic.

  A newscaster is reporting a possible case of arson. The familiar shape of Ryker's home is engulfed in flame.

  I'm pelting toward the door before I can think. Holly is right behind me, holding onto my elbow with a pincer-like grip. I almost trip over the hostess Vicky on my way out. I have to get home. I have to.

  Ryker. Bryan. Ryker. Bryan...

  Their names repeat on a loop, a screech of panic I can barely hear over. That's probably why it takes Holly more than one try to get my attention.

  "Get on my bike," Holly says, tugging me forward. She gestures to the cherry-red Street 500 that Cruz bought for her earlier in the year. It had crashed because it had been tampered with the first time out. Now the bike was beautifully restored.

  "Get on," she repeats. "I'll take you to Ryker."

  His name finally pierces the screeching panic and I nod, numbly slinging a leg over the seat. It's easier to fit on the bike with Holly, since she's such a waif. She waits until I'm on the bike before taking off, sending us through the pouring rain toward my home.

  I can only hope we're not already too late.

  18

  Ryker

  The cold, clear static is back, buzzing through my brain, extinguishing panic like water on a sizzling pan. I'll feel it later, when there's less danger. I've been in plenty of burning buildings.

  Though, I reflect, none of them were mine. It adds a new and personal layer to the situation.

  I'm across the house in a matter of seconds, pulling open the linen closet in the hall. I find the only non-flammable blanket I have in the bunch. A gag gift from Heather one year, who joked that I'd set the house on fire someday with my smoking habit. I doubt she'll laugh now.