“Oh fuck. I knew it. You do have a concussion.” Ryker slides his arms under me as I choke out a laugh. “What?”
“I don’t really…swear.” That doesn’t clear anything up, and he carries me halfway to the door before I manage to stop him by squeezing the back of his neck. “Those…are my curse words.”
“Seriously? Are you religious or—”
“No. But Mom was a pre-school teacher…before.” I swallow hard as memories threaten. “Anyone can say fuck. Flippin’ flapjacks? Nowthat’sunique.”
His laugh seems to surprise him, and he sets me back on the bed. “This is not the night I thought I’d be having.”
Without thinking, I try to rub my right eye. It’s hot and itchy, but when I touch my cheek, the pain blooms across my whole face. “Oh God. That…ow.”
“I’ll get you some ice. Stay there.” He points at me, his eyes narrowing. “I mean it. Do not move. And don’t touch the phone.”
“I’m not an idiot. Two guys just tried to kidnap me off the street.” I regret my words as worry tightens tiny lines around his eyes, but after a heartbeat, he nods and heads for the door. Letting myself sink back against the pillows, I try not to relive those terrifying few seconds. The rough hands. The scent of cigarettes. The salty taste of the guy’s palm as I bit down.
Dammit.My laptop. If Ryker and Dax left my apartment unprotected, everything Zion sent me is probably…well, no. The guys who tried to take me might have it, but they can’t access it. Not without a hell of a lot of work and a hacker as good as I am.
Closing my eyes, I try to recall as much about them as I can. I don’t hear the door open and close, and gasp as Ryker slides a hip onto the mattress. “Here.”
The bath towel ice pack he holds to my cheek feels like heaven and hell at the same time. Cool and comforting, but the pressure is almost too much. “Is…what if it’s broken?”
Ryker sits back. “Follow my finger. Don’t move your head. Any more dizziness? Nausea?”
“No. How the hell did they find me?” My voice cracks, and I pull my knees up to my chest. “What…happened to them?”
“I knocked them out. Dax called 911 and stayed on-scene. I need to contact him now that we’re…as safe as I can make us for the moment. This hotel room isn’t in my name—and even if it was, there’s nothing linking the two of us…together.” Ryker probes the edge of the bruise, his fingers gentle. Scars wind their way up his forearms, intertwined with tattoos of skulls and barbed wire. “You’re okay. Nothing’s broken.”
“You’re sure?” The headache currently splitting my skull disagrees with his assessment, but I’ve never had a broken bone before.
Shadows dance across his face, dimming the light in his eyes. “Fifty-four.”
“Huh?”
“I’ve had fifty-four bones in my body broken. I’m pretty sure.” He shakes his head and stands.
“Oh my God. How?”
“Don’t ask me that.” Ryker heads for the window as his fingers dance over his phone screen. He parts the curtains, angles a glance down at the street, and his shoulders visibly relax. Taking a seat in the desk chair a few feet away, he leans back and crosses his legs at the ankles. “Tell me everything you remember about the fuckers who tried to take you.”
Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself and draw my knees up to my chest. Now that I’m safe, the adrenaline’s wearing off and my anxiety starts to creep back in. “I…you don’t have my bag, do you?”
Ryker frowns. “No. My priority was getting you out of there. What do you need?”
“Meds. I’ll be…okay. Just need a minute.”
My teeth start to chatter, and with a curse, Ryker crosses the room in two steps, pulls back the blankets and orders me under them. “You’re in shock. Sort of. I’ll get you another blanket and what—coffee? Tea?”
“T-t-tea.”
I can’t get warm, even under the blankets, fully clothed. The little electric tea kettle on the desk starts to whistle, and Ryker pours the water over a bag of chamomile, adds honey, then presses the mug into my hands. And proceeds to position himself with his back against the headboard. “Come here.”
“I just m-met you!”
“I’m not asking you to sleep with me, sweetheart. You need to get warm. You see anything else in this room as big as me?” His sharp tone helps me focus, and I meet his frosty gaze. “Until you can manage to get through a sentence without those teeth clicking like a pair of castanets, you’ll…snuggle.”
He says it like it’s the worst possible activity in the entire world, and I wriggle closer and let him drape his arm around me. I do it to spite him, but he’s right. He’s warm. And massive.
“Drink your tea and then we’ll talk.”
