“West…you mentioned him at my apartment.”
“Yeah. He’s a former SEAL. Engaged to this computer genius. They’re getting married next week.”
“Oh sugar snacks. Are you missing the wedding because of me?” Guilt tangles the words in my throat, but he squeezes my fingers.
“No. I wasn’t going anyway. Don’t ask me why not.”
Well, that was exactly what I was going to ask him, but fine. He’s actually talking, and I don’t want to discourage him.
“West was there when I escaped Hell. He was the first friendly I saw.” Ryker offers a dry laugh. “Pretty sure he thought I was a mountain lion. Covered in dirt, blood, and shit. Running a fever of a hundred and two. Long, scraggly beard—in places.” He rubs the scars on his jaw and cheek with his free hand. “Wearing a pair of gray pants…well, they were no longer gray. Or really even pants.”
I stay silent, hoping he’ll continue unprompted, but when he doesn’t, I nudge my shoulder against his. “Sorry. We reconnected last year. Good guy. Solid.”
“And Inara?”
“Sharpshooter. One of the best I’ve ever seen. We’ve worked together for three years. She’s a translator when she’s not doing K&R with us.”
I sit up. “Does she speak Russian?”
“Yeah. Russian, Pashto, Arabic, French, Spanish, Italian, and one more. Chinese maybe.”
“Can I send her some of the codes Zion left me?” For the first time in two days, I feel something akin to hope. “I kept trying Google Translate, but nothing I got back made any sense.”
“I’ll get you her email in the morning before we leave.”
My fingers find their way to my wrist, but I left my bracelet by my bed. “Are you really that worried about taking me to Russia? Even with the arsenal out there?”
Ryker meets my gaze, and he doesn’t have to answer me. The fear tightens tiny lines around his eyes and lips, and I blow out a breath. When his hand cups my cheek, then slides around to the back of my neck, I let him pull me down so I’m half on top of him.
“You’re a civilian, Wren.” His warm breath tickles my ear. “And you’re…fuck. I haven’t been ignoring you the past two days. I’ve watched you. How your mind works. You’re brilliant. The way you tackle a problem…I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours. All the time.”
“All you have to do is ask.”
I feel him nod against me, and then he eases me up slightly so he can slant his lips over mine. Before, his kiss was frantic, desperate. But this time, the tenderness in his touch makes my eyes burn—even though I can’t remember how to cry. I don’t want this to stop. I could kiss this man every day for the next month and it wouldn’t be enough. I shouldn’t need him. Shouldn’t want him. There’s a darkness inside him I fear will consume him one day. But I can’t help myself.
He’s broken in all the wrong ways. Perfect in all the right ones. And as he deepens the kiss and slides his hands down my back to cup my ass, I wriggle my hips, offering him more.
Too soon, he pulls away and tucks an errant curl behind my ear. “Stay with me, Wren. For just one night, I don’t want to fall asleep alone.”
My eyes burn, and I turn in his arms, letting him fit his big, solid body around mine, keeping me safe the only way he knows how.
13
Ryker
Eighteen hours after Wren fell asleep in my arms, we land at a defunct military airstrip outside of St. Petersburg. Ford arranged for a nondescript coupe waiting for us, and as soon as I usher Wren—her hair covered with a black scarf—into the car, she pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs herself tightly.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” I say as the engine sputters to life.
“I hate flying. And the hangover I get from doubling up on the anxiety meds. And my ears are still ringing. You fly like that all the time?”
“You get used to it.” Stopping to check the GPS before I pull out onto the motorway, I slide my hand around the back of her neck and pull her closer. “Take a deep breath for me.”
“I’m okay.” She holds my gaze, but I can see her struggle not to go for one of her coping mechanisms like fiddling with her bracelet or tapping her fingers along the inside of her wrist. “Really.”
“Sure. And I’m a short, underweight comedian.”
Her laugh does something to my gut I’m not prepared for. I want to hear it again, but that joke’s literally the only one I know. When she leans closer, I mirror her movements, and she touches her forehead to mine. “Don’t let me distract you, Ry. I’m depending on you to keep us safe.”
