“Something like that,” the corner of his mouth hitches up before it slams back down. “If you see their truck, or anything unusual tell me immediately.”
“10:4”
He looks amused, but quickly is back to serious.
A yawn hits out of nowhere. “Is it okay if I sleep, or do you need me to keep watch?”
His eyes are soft when he looks at me this time. “You don’t need to worry about anything. I’m perfectly capable of handling the situation.”
“Are you a SEAL?”
“You heard me refer to the Teams.”
I rub my eyes which are getting heavier and heavier. “I don’t know much about them, but there’s a guy from my hometown who is one.”
“Copy. Who is that?”
“Brody Martin.”
This time he grins, fast and genuine. “No shit. I know him, that’s one wild ass fucking Texan. Excuse my language.”
For some reason his reaction is like a balm. Ryker might be a stranger, but every moment I’m with him peels back another layer of who he is.
“That pretty much sums him up,” I say, melting more into the seat. Brody’s not that different than Ryker physically, but where Ryker seems to be in control at all times, my classmate was one step away from chaos at all times.
I can’t deny it. I like what I see in Ryker. Which is crazy, because I have a BAD history of poor judgement.
In my world, recklessness and lost tempers meant living in terror. He just doesn’t seem the type.
Plus, there’s this thing about the way he drives that makes me weirdly excited.
Who knew competence could be such a turn on?
I yawn again. “Sorry. I think I’m crashing after the adrenaline.”
“That’s exactly what’s happening. Your nervous system is downshifting. Let it play out.”
He adjusts the controls on the dash, even clinical in his control of the interior temperature.
My lids are so heavy. The hum of the engine, the warmth from the vents, his steady presence beside me, it’s pulling me under.
I’m almost gone when Ryker’s hand leaves the shifter.
It moves to his hip. A slow, deliberate movement. The kind of motion that doesn’t match the casual way he’s been driving.
My eyes fight to stay open. Through the blur I catch the shift in his jaw. The set of his shoulders changing.
He’s watching the mirror.
Not scanning this time, he’s zeroed in, watching.
“See something?” I mumble, my voice thick with sleep I can’t fight.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart.” His tone hasn’t changed. But his hand stays on his weapon.
CHAPTER 3
I’ve hauled a lot of precious cargo, but Jade in my passenger seat feels like the single most important thing I’ve ever been responsible for.
