“I …” I pulled back, swiping at the tears betraying me. “I’m fine.”
“The hell you are. Tell me what happened.”
“I’d rather not.”
He tilted my chin up again, his blue eyes going dark cobalt,boring into mine with an intensity that should have scared me, but didn’t.
“You tell me what happened, or I go in there and slam every person in that place against a wall until I find out the hard way.”
I shouldn’t have let those words penetrate my defenses. Shouldn’t have let them make me feel protected. Safe. It was dangerous, whatever Ryker made me feel in this moment.
But that was the thing about Ryker. He didn’t see me as prey. Didn’t look at me like damaged goods or an easy target. He looked at me like I was worth going to war for.
Nobody had ever looked at me like that.
I cleared my throat, squared my shoulders, tried to look unaffected. Failed spectacularly.
“I lost my job.”
But Ryker knew me too well to think that was the whole story. His thumb brushed away a tear I’d missed. “You’re a warrior, Faith. If you lost your job, you’d be pissed, sure. But you wouldn’t be running out of here in tears unless someone fucked with you. So, try again.”
His hand cupped my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone with a gentleness that undid me more than Brett’s aggression ever could. Ryker made me feel like I could stop fighting for just one second. Like maybe, just maybe, someone else would hold the line while I caught my breath.
“It’s fine,” I said.
“Was it a coworker?”
“No.”
“A customer?”
“No.”
“So, it was a superior then. The bastard that fired you?” A muscle ticced beneath his cheek.
“Just let it go, Ryker.”
“Did he say something to you?” His eyes searched mine, reading the story I wouldn’t tell.
“Nothing worth repeating.”
His gaze dropped to my collar, and I watched his expression change. His whole body went still. That particular kind of stillness that preceded violence.
“Did he touch you?”
The question was quiet. Controlled. The kind of calm that came before devastating violence.
“I handled it.”
“That’s not what I asked.” His fingers ghosted near my collar. “Faith, did he put his hands on you?”
I looked away. “Can we not do this here? Please?”
“Did. He. Touch. You?”
“I said I handled it.”
“You’re shaking.” His voice had gone deadly soft. “And you’re standing here, trying to convince me you’re fine when we both know you’re not.” He stopped, visibly struggling for control. “Faith, if he hurt you?—”
