“He fired me. That’s all that matters.”
“That’s not all that—” He cut himself off, took a breath.
“I just want to go home.” My voice came out exhausted.
He paused for a minute. Looked behind me, toward the front door, then back at my face. I watched him physically wrestle his rage into submission, choosing what I needed over what he wanted. “Okay.”
“Okay?” The sudden shift from volcanic rage to reasonable threw me. “That’s … easy.”
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “This conversation isn’t over.”
I knew it wasn’t. Knew Ryker well enough to understand he was filing every detail away, building a case in his mind. Brett Fontaine had no idea what kind of enemy he’d just made.
And despite everything, that thought warmed me more than it should have.
“Come on.” He walked me to his car like a bodyguard.
“What are you even doing here?” I asked, grateful for the subject change.
“I drove you, remember?”
“Right, but … I thought you’d leave as soon as I went inside.”
“Was taking a call,” he claimed. But I wondered if he’d stayed here longer than necessary to check on me.
“I have to get to a meeting,” he said.
I don’t know why I was disappointed about that. Maybe it was just that I was too tired to sit through a meeting, and we only had the one car.
“Tell you what.” He pulled out his phone and tapped an app. “I’ll head to my meeting and come to your place as quickly as I can. You take a rideshare home. Okay?”
When I nodded, Ryker pulled me to his chest. Wrapped his arms around me and just held me. Like he knew this was exactly what I needed. I couldn’t pull away. Wouldn’t. Not until the crunch of fresh tires pulled up with my ride.
“Lock your door when you get home, okay?” He pulled back and opened the rideshare’s back door for me, watching as I climbed inside.
Truth be told, I was already feeling a little better. Mostly because Ryker would come over soon, and while I waited for him, I would search online for possible ways to earn money. Maybe some place would still hire me.
As my vehicle drove away, I glanced through the rear windshield. Ryker stood exactly where I’d left him, still watching my car, making sure I got safely onto the street.
36
RYKER
I charged through the front doors, taking in the establishment. Crystal chandeliers cast amber light over leather booths and a mahogany bar. The air reeked of money and scotch. Staff in crisp white shirts and black vests moved between tables, but no one in a suit. No one who screamedmanagement.
“Excuse me.” I interrupted a bartender filling the ice bin, her movements freezing mid-pour. “Is there a manager on duty?”
“Is there a problem, sir?” Her eyes widened, taking in what I’m sure was not my friendliest expression.
Bigger than you can imagine.I scanned the room again. “How many managers are on duty tonight?”
She shook the bucket until the last few ice cubes clattered into the bin, buying time. “Two scheduled, but one hasn’t shown up yet.”
“Where’s the one who’s here?”
“Brett’s in his office.” She set the bucket down slowly.
“Great. Thank you.”
