“Did he hurt you?” Ryder asks, or rather growls, his posture tense, jaw set tight. He’s still by the door, leaning against the wall, his beautiful dark eyes boring into mine.
“He never hit me, if that’s what you’re asking, but yes, you can say he hurt me.” I take another sip of wine, chasing away the onslaught of still-razor-sharp memories.
It’s been years since I touched alcohol. Enough years that I forgot how nice white wine tastes. How it erases the events of the evening, helping me calm down.
“I’m not here on Vaughn’s orders,” I continue, addressing Carter and hoping he’ll recognize the sincerity in my voice.
I give him a long-winded rundown of Vaughn’s odd behavior, the middle-of-the-night evacuations for silly reasons, his growing paranoia and progressing alcoholism.
“I came here because I don’t know if my home is safe. Vaughn said Noretto might use me if he finds me. That he’ll lock me up again. But you...” I pointedly look at Carter, “...you want Vaughn dead and yet he never suggested you’d hurtme. I thought coming here was my best bet.”
Carter falls silent, as if needing a few long moments to compartmentalize everything I’ve said. Judging by the intensity shining in his almost black eyes, he might be wondering whether I’m trustworthy. A man of his reputation is bound to be careful.
Seconds stretch. Tension crackles in the air, so strong it physically weighs me down.
I fidget in my seat, twisting my fingers.
Ryder keeps stealing my attention, the heat of his scrutiny pulling me in as if his gravity is stronger than anything else. The cool, composed aura around him stirs my stomach.
It’s a pleasant feeling... though unnerving. The pure rage marring his face when the cab driver grabbed my arm comes back, soothing my agitated mind.
No one’s ever stood up for me like that. He’s the first person who didn’t expect, didn’twaitfor me to deal with it alone. It’s oddly comforting and therefore infuriating.
I wonder what he would’ve done if he were in the hotel room with Vaughn and me tonight...
Would he whisk me away?
Would he beat the living daylights out of Vaughn?
Would he carry me out in his arms, whispering soothing words while holding me to his chest?
My head swings away from him, annoyance slithering beneath my skin. Who cares what he’d do? I’m more than capable of fighting my own battles. I’ve done it my whole life. I’m not weak and I’ll be damned if Ryder labels me as such.
He doesn’t strike me as a guy who likes a damsel in distress.
Ugh! Why do you care what he likes?
I choose not to dwell on that thought, locking it in a small box at the back of my mind. I ignore my heartrate soaring whenever our eyes lock. I ignore the heat engulfing me whole whenever he hijacks my attention, and I refocus on Carter. What if he decides I can’t be trusted? What if—?
“You have nothing to worry about on my part,” he denotes, weighing every word, his gaze boring into mine like a physical touch. Not unpleasant...comforting.
God, what the hell changed in my brain chemistry that I feelcomfortedby a criminal? This isn’t normal. Surely.
Still, even though I just met the man, I can tell he’s sincere. He won’t hurt me. He won’t lock me up or send me to Noretto with a bow tied around my waist.
Koby, Broadway, and Ryder nod along, silently agreeing with Carter. It almost feels like they’re pledging their allegiance.
“As for going home,” Carter continues, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Vaughn’s unstable. From what you’ve told me, I gather he’s scared you’ll be used against him. That means he’ll be looking for you. He’ll want you back.”
“You think it’s the booze?” Koby pipes in, his voice no longer high-pitched, a cocky smirk back in place. “Drugs would better explain how effectively he’s dismantling his life.”
“So would grief,” Ryder says. “Vaughn’s been spiraling ever since his wife died.”
“If that’s all it is, then for a cop with such impressive mind-fuckery skills, he sure is a weakling,” Koby shoots back.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Carter snaps looking positively murderous. “He lost the love of his life, yet he’s still fighting. Vaughn’s many things, Koby. Weak isn’t one of them. If I were in his shoes, I’d put a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.That’sweak.”
Setting his glass aside, Carter lifts both hands to massage his temples. “As I was saying, going back to Cleveland isn’t a good idea, Bianca. You shouldn’t be alone.”
