Page 72 of Resist

“Is everything okay?” I ask, tone lowered as I look to where Lucy fell asleep on the couch in the middle of watching Moana.

“Yeah. Fine. How’s Lucy?”

“She’s taking a little nap.”

“She did a lot of riding today,” he says and then falls silent. Obviously his call has a purpose, but what that purpose is, I’m uncertain.

“Ryker?”

“Is she the reason?”

His question unnerves me, and I know he can hear my quick intake of breath in response.

“Reason?” I ask, feigning ignorance.

“The debt. The reason you do what you do?”

“Too personal,” I murmur and fight the fact that I open my mouth to tell him more. That I want to tell him more. Especially when she’s the one thing I’m most protective about.

“Look, I get it. You run Wicked Ways because it brings in cash quickly. You work at Apropos to explain in some way where your cash comes from.” My hand slowly moves to my mouth and covers it, hating and at the same time feeling relieved that someone understands why I do what I do, but knowing I can’t talk about it. I can’t connect the missing dots for him so he fully understands because that crosses another one of those invisible lines for me. “Vaughn? You there?”

“Mm-hmm.” My pulse thunders in my ears because every part of me wants to say it all, tell him the whole story, so someone finally understands me. So at long last I have someone to talk to . . . and yet, it’s him. Ryker. The man who finagled this situation that I love and hate all at the same time.

“It makes sense if that’s the reason behind it. It’s actually really smart if so. As I was finishing my run, the notion hit me, and now I can’t get it out of my head. But . . . if—”

“Too personal,” I assert a little firmer.

“Why? Because I respect you for doing what you need to do?”

I fight back the tears burning the backs of my eyes. The ones that want to fall because those are the first kind words I’ve heard from anyone regarding my need to take care of Lucy and the means I’ll go to do just that.

And that means he’ll be asking more questions. Questions I don’t want to answer yet. Ones about where Lucy’s parents are. Why I want to adopt her. Why I am how I am. Hell, the last question is one I don’t even know the answer to yet.

“Because I do, Vaughn. I respect the hell out of you. I did before, and I do even more so now. Lucy is very lucky to have you—”

“That’s enough, Ryker.” My voice is calm, my tone even. His praise is hard to hear when it’s not something I’m used to.

“I was just trying to get to know you.”

“You may have forced your hand with me when it comes to professional stuff, but that’s where I draw the line.” Being defensive is the only tactic I have to keep him at bay. And by at bay, I mean on the opposite side of the guarded wall around my heart. “Our contract doesn’t mean I’m required to give you info about my personal life too.”

“When all else fails, mention the contract, right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask when I’m more than aware what he means.

“At some point your defensive bullshit needs to stop.” He sighs and the sound of it—pure condescension—riles me up. Or maybe I’m mad at myself. At wanting to give in and talk to him when I haven’t had anyone to talk to since Samantha’s death. “Why all the hostility?”

“Because—because . . . I don’t want to like you.” My voice is barely a whisper as my confession takes both of us by surprise. “Because you represent everything I’ve always bucked against . . .”

“But I’m so likeable.” I can hear the smile in his voice. It’s endearing, and I know before we even say another word that I’m going to let him in. I’m just scared. “Even my mom says so.” He chuckles.

“And that’s the problem.” I laugh, nerves tingeing its edges, and look toward Lucy for a moment before damming up my emotions again. “Look, I appreciate you wanting to do the get-to-know-you thing, but it’s just better if we keep whatever is between us within the confines of . . . yes, I’m going to say it again, the contract. Somehow we ran into each other today. That wasn’t supposed to happen. So let’s pretend that it didn’t, okay?” I ask, despite the image of Lucy wrapping her arms around Ryker flooding my mind.

“You know I’m a loner too, right? I prefer to do things on my own. To be by myself. I grew up with a mother obsessed with surrounding herself with all the right people so she could keep her status, and I’m the exact fucking opposite because of it. Maybe that’s part of the reason I called Wicked Ways in the first place. Maybe it’s not.” He pauses. “It’s one thing to want to be alone; it’s another to make yourself an island so that anyone who even tries to approach is pushed away. It has to be a miserable way to live.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right—I don’t . . . and maybe I want to. Maybe I want to know more about the woman who runs Wicked Ways but who works at Apropos and who also seems to take care of her niece. Maybe I want to figure out why the guard you put up is like a goddamn fortress and why I like the woman I see every so often when it slips. Maybe—”