This time, I stay silent. He’s working his way up to something, and with Ripper, these small moments of vulnerability are rare. I get the sense he’s more open with Ry and Dax, with Cara, but not with West. Never with Inara. We’re all family to him, but some of us, he keeps almost at arm’s length. I thought I fell into that category too.
“I askedyouto help because I didn’t know you from Adam.” Clearing his throat, he stares down at his boots. “Nothing seemed real. Until you offered me your cup of coffee. I hadn’t had coffee in six years. Fucker only ever gave me tea, and wheneverhebrought it, there was something in it that messed with my head. Coffee? It made me think…maybe I really was out of that hole. Safe.”
“Rip.” I lean forward, elbows on my knees, careful not to get too close. The man doesn’t like to be touched. None of them do. He, Dax, and Ry were tortured for so long that they don’t trust anyone. Except the women they fell in love with. And each other. Hell, this is the most Ripper’s said to me in over a year.
He shakes his head. “If Ry had been the one sitting next to that bed? I would have pissed myself before I asked him for help.”
“Why? He’s…he’s your brother.”
“In every way that counts, yeah. Doesn’t make it any easier to admit you can’t do something as simple as stand up. Or whip out your dick and hold it over a toilet.” Ripper drains the last of his coffee as Ryker strides into the warehouse, the snap of the electronic door locks the only sign of his entry. Despite his size, he’s utterly silent when he walks. As he pushes to his feet, Rip reaches out and rests his hand on my shoulder. “Graham, if this guy’s been hurt before, if he’s really as scared as you think he is? Try what you did with me. Don’t ask him if he’s okay. Ask him if he wants a cup of coffee.”
* * *
For the next six hours,we put a group of five vets through a series of drills, activelytryingto make them quit. Two of them do—an Army medic and a Naval Petty Officer. After West barking orders at them every five minutes, Ryker’s intimidating stare, and Inara’s prowess on the climbing wall, one of the washouts asks me if it’s always this brutal.
I tell him to go run two miles and come back for another climb. His response? “Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
With a laugh, I meet Ry’s gaze across the warehouse and shake my head. Five minutes later, Ry hands him a check for $1000—just for showing up—and warns him if he breathes a word of what happened here today, he’ll regret ever being born.
A little after 6:00 p.m., Ryker shouts, “Shut it down. Everyone on the mats in five.”
The three newbies, Caleb, Jonah, and Raelynn, head for the corner we use for yoga practice. The guys collapse in sweaty heaps, but Raelynn stands tall with her hands on her hips.
“You two pansy asses can’t even bother to stand up? Sheeee-it. I’d rather be elbow-deep in a heifer’s ass pullin’ out a calf than goin’ into the field with the two of you.”
I take a step back when she casts a quick gaze at me, then turns to Caleb and Jonah. “That kid out classed both of you.”
Inara barely manages to cover her laugh. Ryker’s stone-faced as always, but something dark and dangerous simmers in West’s eyes. “Graham’s not a kid. He’s a senior member of this team. One I trust with my life. And you’ll show him some goddamn respect if you want to consider joining us.”
Raelynn snaps her mouth shut and gives West a curt nod. “Yes, Sir.”
With what might almost be a smile, Ryker steps forward. “The physical part of the interview’s over. Next up…psychological testing and one-on-ones. If you want to take this step, there are updated NDAs on the conference table.”
“We already signed one,” Jonah protests.
Ryker stares him down until the former Marine looks appropriately chastised. “And you’ll sign another. Because what comes next could land any one of us in worse shit than you’ve ever imagined. We clear?”
“Crystal, Sir,” Caleb and Raelynn say sharply.
Jonah pushes up with a groan. “I had enough of this clandestine shit when I was deployed. I’m done.” He refuses to take the grand West offers him for his time and grabs his keys and jacket from the temporary locker each potential was assigned when they walked in the door.
“I don’t have to remind you what happens if you breathe a word of this to anyone,” Ryker barks out.
“Then don’t. Fuck off, McCabe. The government might think you’re a hero, but I just think you’re an asshole.”
The door slams, and five seconds later, West, Inara, and I burst out laughing. Ryker turns to us, one brow raised. The other is bisected by a thick scar. “Care to explain?” he asks.
“The Marine’s not wrong,” West says as he cracks the seal on a bottle of water. “You are an asshole.”
“Damn straight.” Ryker jerks his head towards the conference table. “Well? If you two sorry sacks of shit want a chance to work with an asshole—and this asshole’s team—get to signing.”
Chapter Ten
Quinton
Before I shutmy laptop for the night, I check my old email—the one I used when I was withhim. I have a whole folder of archived messages from Alec—evidence if I ever need it—and I use this account almost like a diary. A history of the hell I went through and how I escaped.
Composing an email to myself, I summarize the past few days. Connor’s belief that Alec was outside his house, the catalog that showed up in my mailbox, and my fears that Alec hasn’t given up on his quest to hurt me. To get revenge for what I did to him—leaving him, serving him with a restraining order, calling him out on his shit.
