“Does that mean you’ll throw something at me again?” he retorted, and I could have sworn there was humour in his tone. “I see you’ve been practicing with paper.” He nodded toward the notepad.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. I’d put money on it being his wife who’d sent him out here.
Dinner had been… unsettlingly normal. Comforting, even. Elena had carried the conversation without much effort on my part, and Hendrix had been… well, Hendrix. But the way he looked at her, as if she were the only light worth following, was strangely intimate.
Elena had said their story began in darkness, and somehow knowing they’d found their way to the other side brought a kind of relief I hadn’t realised I needed.
If they could make it through everything they’d faced, then I knew mum and I could too.
Setting down the notepad, I faced him fully. “Elena told me you’re a detective.”
Hendrix’s brown eyes darkened when he turned, though he didn’t reply.
“If I asked for help,” I pressed, “would you give it?”
For a long moment, the only reply was the wind whispering through the trees.
Then finally, he said, “If you’re asking whether I can pull you out of whatever mess you’ve landed yourself in, I can’t.”
The words hit heavier than I expected, settling like a stone in my gut.
“I don’t have that kind of pull without cashing in favours,” he added.
“Then I’ll ask for the favours,” I said quickly. “Just tell me who to go to.”
Hendrix tilted his head, studying me. “Depends on how deep you’re willing to sink into debt,” he said. “You have the Beast, but I doubt you’d be able to afford what he asks. Which means your best bet would be Roman Antonov.”
My breath caught, and I leaned forward. “How do I contact him?”
A faint glint sparked in Hendrix’s eyes, something between amusement and warning. “Don’t worry,” he said, looking back out into the distance. “You’ll meet him soon enough.”
The wind whistled again, rustling the trees and carrying the faint rush of running water somewhere beyond the cottage.
“I can’t stay here,” I said at last, breaking the silence. “I have to get back to my mum.”
“She’s already on her way,” he replied simply. “Why else do you think Ryder’s not here?”
“I don’t know,” I snapped. “Maybe because he feels guilty?”
Hendrix’s mouth twitched. “I’ve known Ryder over twenty years. That man doesn’t feel guilt.”
“Then why did he come back for me?”
“Why indeed,” Hendrix murmured, studying me curiously.
“I don’t understand him,” I admitted. “He’s hot one minute, cold the next. He literally handed me over to those men. And for what? Money?”
Hendrix gave a low chuckle but didn’t answer.
“You were fostered together, right?” I asked, desperate to keep him talking. To learn more about the man my body seemed stupid enough to react to. The same man who lived as if decency was beneath him.
Hendrix nodded, eyes unfocused for a moment. “Yeah. We lost touch for a few years, but we found each otheragain later. But time… it changes a person. Especially with the kind of start Ryder had.”
I shifted in my seat, restless. “What happened?” When I was met with silence, I let out a sound of annoyance. “His past isn’t an excuse.”
Hendrix’s eyes flicked up, steady and sharp. “Ryder might act like some hedonistic god, but he’d cut off his own arm if it meant protecting the people he loved.”
“Loved?” I laughed. “I doubt that man’s even capable of such a thing.”
