With a shake of her head, she looks at the revolving door. “I promised him. And I can’t…it’s the last thing he ever asked. Dax won’t help me. You shouldn’t either. But—”
“Dax won’t help?” I snort. “Then I’m in. Come on, Wren Kane. Coffee’s on me.”
* * *
Wren
The giant across from me cups his black coffee like it’s nectar from the gods, while I take one sip of my cappuccino before my stomach protests.
“So…want to tell me why you ran into me? Twice?” He arches his brows, which highlights the differences in his eyes. A vertical scar bisects his left lid, and the eye doesn’t fully open. Ropes of damaged skin—burns, I think—cover his left cheek and down his neck. When I saw him the first time, I only focused on his strong arm holding me up and his gravelly voice. Now, I take in the rest of him.
Large hands. Ink peeking out from the cuff of his sweatshirt. He’s almost as big as Ford, but younger. Mid-thirties, if I had to guess. Curiosity lends a gleam to his eyes, and their multitude of colors—part green, part blue, part hazel—mesmerizes me.
“Um, my phone…died. And my car won’t start. I was coming back into the office to call for a tow.” My chest tightens, and I skim my fingers over my necklace, needing the familiar comfort of the smooth edges. I’m running on caffeine and adrenaline, and that’s a sure-fire recipe for a panic attack—which I’ve only barely avoided twice this morning. “The first time…” Can I really share this with a stranger? I release the pendant and reach for my cappuccino. But my hands aren’t steady, and I almost drop the cup, a bit of foam landing on the table between us.
“Wren, stop.” Ryker reaches out, the lightest stroke of his fingers over mine. “Take a deep breath. Count to ten.”
I jerk back, digging in my bag for my pill case. “Just…a minute.”
Ryker’s gaze never leaves my face as he waits for me to take my meds. “Anxiety or panic attacks?”
“Both.” My voice cracks, and I clear my throat. “I…don’t do well with new people.”
His deep chuckle brings a smile to his face, and he looks surprised at the expression for a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t do well with people in general. So you’ve got a leg up on me.”
“I don’t…I don’t know you. I shouldn’t—”
“I’m Special Forces. Or, I was. Now, I run a K&R firm in Seattle. Kidnap and Ransom. I get people out of trouble. Most of the time. You don’t have any reason to believe me, but…” He digs his hand into the pocket of his jeans, coming away with his wallet. Behind a credit card and hotel room key, he finds a picture, stares at it for a moment, and then passes it across the small table. “Recognize anyone?”
The photo’s wrinkled and faded, well-worn around the edges. Six men. All in full gear. Ryker’s easy to spot. He’s the biggest guy there. Except…he has a full head of blond hair. I slide my gaze back and forth between the photo and Ryker, trying to reconcile the man across from me with the man in the photograph. He could have been a model. Next to him, laughing, a younger Dax stares back at me.
“Oh God. You were with him. In…”
“Hell.” Ryker’s eyes dim, and his lips press together for a breath. “Dax was my second. The only other member of my squad to survive.”
What do you say to that?I’m sorry? That’s awful?I settle for a nod. “Dax doesn’t talk about it. He gave me the tl; dr version when he hired me, but—”
“Tl; dr?”
A wrinkle appears between Ryker’s brows, and I manage a smile. “Sorry. I forget not everyone speaks geek. It means ‘too long; didn’t read.’ Basically, the two-sentence summary.”
“Tl; dr. I like that.” Another long sip of coffee, and he frowns. “Whatever this is…are you sure you don’t want to go to Dax with it? He’s a good guy, despite kicking me out of his office.”
I snort into my mug. “I already did. He won’t help. The first time I ran into you, I’d just left him. He thinks I’m insane for wanting to go up against the Russian mob.”
A low whistle escapes Ryker’s lips. “You sure he’s not right?”
“No.”
“Then why…?”
I twirl the bracelet around my wrist. I don’t know how much to share. How much I can even get through without breaking down. The anxiety pill dulls my senses, but at least my heart isn’t pounding half out of my chest. Still…I hate making decisions when I feel like this. Exhausted. A little fuzzy. Alone.
Unable to share Z with this guy I just met, I hedge. “Personal reasons.”
With those two words, Ryker’s entire demeanor changes. Gone is the gentle giant offering a sympathetic shoulder. His multi-color eyes harden, and he runs a hand over his bald head. “If you want my help, you have to give me more than ‘personal reasons.’ I’ve been in this business a long time, Wren. Five years is an eternity in K&R work. I tried to save a guy from the Russians once. Out of forty-seven targets, I’ve only lost two, and thebratvakilled one of them.”
I can’t do this. Can’t tell him about the letter Zion left me. About the other recording Ididn’tplay for Dax. “I’m sorry, Mr. McCabe. This was a mistake. I…I should go.”
