I register her words as a group of guys—dressed for a night out on the town—amble down the sidewalk towards us. They don’t look like threats, but I won’t take a chance with her safety, and I put myself between her and the group, staring daggers into them as they come a little too close for comfort.
Behind me, Wren holds her breath, and dammit, why do I even notice?
Get out of your own head, Ry.
Clenching my free hand into a fist, I turn to her. “You want conversation? Or you want to stay alive?”
“Both. This is ‘tourist central.’ I don’t think anyone’s going to try to grab me right outside the hotel at nine o’clock at night.” She rolls her eyes at me, then stalks back through the front door. Pixel paws at my leg, distracting me, and I scoop the little dog up in my arm and follow Wren back inside.
By the time we reach the stairs, Pixel starts to whine, as if she can sense how close I am to snapping.
“Ryker—”
“Wait,” I hiss as I wave my key over the door lock. She wants to push me, she’ll see the monster inside. But I won’t lethimout in public. “We’re not doing this in the middle of the fucking hallway.”
Easing the dog from my arms, she carries her into the bedroom, coos to her for a moment as she unclips the leash, and then stalks back into the main room. Pixel wisely stays away.
I don’t know what to say to her. How to share space with her. How in hell I’m going to protect her once we get on that transport plane tomorrow.
“We’re not in the hallway anymore.”
Her biting tone has me snapping my gaze to hers, my hands balled into fists and my teeth grinding together so loudly she must be able to hear them. The challenge in her eyes surprises me, but I just take a step closer, forcing her to tip her head up to meet my eyes.
“Are you angling for a fight, sweetheart?”
Unlike the other day, the endearment falls bitterly from my lips. But something inside me cracks at my tone. Fuck. I can’t decide if I want to hit something or gather Wren against my chest and kiss her until she can’t remember her own name.
She cocks a reddish brow at me. “Yousure are.”
Forcing a deep breath, I uncurl my fingers. This was a terrible idea. I don’t care how much she pushes me. I’m not unleashing my never-ending darkness on her. Not after she’s lost her brother. “What do you want from me, Wren?”
Where didthatcome from?
She waves her hand at the weapons and gear under the bedspread. “Tell me why we need an arsenal. Stop grunting one-word answers. Sit down and eat a meal with me instead of carrying your plate into the other bedroom and shutting the door.Anythingbut this constant silent treatment.”
“Ineed all that shit to keep you safe! You have no fucking clue what you’ve gotten yourself into with this. I’ve seen what the Russian mob does to their enemies. In the past five years, I’ve extracted two women from trafficking rings in Eastern Europe. Both strung out of their minds, covered in bruises, and too scared to even cry. How’sthatfor an answer, sweetheart?”
“Ry…”
My hands shake as I shove them into the pockets of my jacket. Every time I close my eyes, I descend into my own personal hell. Dax, barely alive, burned and blistered skin all around his eyes. West bleeding out. Inara doing her best to keep Royce upright after Coop nearly killed all of us. Stalking over to the window, I angle my gaze to the sidewalk below. Situation normal on the street.
But when her fingers slide over my arm, my control snaps. I grab her and spin her until she’s pressed against the wall, her well-worn MIT sweatshirt clinging to her small breasts as her breath heaves and then catches. “You want to know why I don’t talk to you, little bird?”
“Yes.” She holds my gaze, her eyes a dark jade now, with little copper flecks that sparkle in the lights. “Tell me.” Her voice lowers, and she whispers, “Show me.”
Sliding my fingers into her hair, I tip her head back and claim her mouth. After a soft moan, she molds herself to my body, and when I sweep my tongue against hers, she yields, opening to me.
Pure, raw need surges, my dick jutting painfully against my zipper. If I don’t stop, don’t walk away, I’ll break her. Or…maybe I’ll break myself.
Crawling through the Afghan desert bleeding from a dozen wounds was easier than releasing her, but after I memorize her taste, her scent, the way her ass feels cupped in my hands, I pull away.
Confusion paints her face in shadow, and she reaches up to touch her swollen lips as if she doesn’t remember what it feels like to be kissed. I almost lose my resolve, but then I see the bruises around her wrist, and I turn, knowing I have to put some distance between us.
Shutting my bedroom door, I rest my back against the thick wood. This is for the best. I shattered into pieces six years ago, and I’ve never been able to put myself back together.
11
Ryker
