“When Coop took Royce, you didn’t think twice about going after him. About breaking more than a dozen laws to get Royce back and keep me and Inara safe. Is it so hard to believe we’d do the same thing for you?”
His fingers tighten around mine as he pins me with a hard stare, and I try not to look away. “Yes.”
“Why?”
The question throws me, and for the life of me, I don’t have an answer.
“Because you’re so caught up in your misplaced guilt over what happened in Hell, you can’t see straight. I didn’t invite you to my wedding out of obligation. You’re the reason I’m alive. The reason Cam and I have a future—if we ever get out of this godforsaken country. I invited you because you’re practically my brother.”
The truth of his words is written all over his face. Have I really been that much of an idiot? Missed out on six years of my life—six years where I could have had friends? Family?
I pull West in for a quick, one-armed hug. I don’t like being touched—except by Wren—but it feels like the right thing to do. “I didn’t know what was wrong with my life,” I say, the words thick and awkward, “until I met her. And now…fuck. I’m sorry. Tell me how to fix things.”
After two thumps to my back, West releases me. “Come to the wedding. Bring your girl. And maybe…next time someone asks you how you are, think about giving them an answer longer than a single word.”
“I’ll…try.”
Nodding, West holds the door open for me. “That’s a start.”
36
Ryker
Wren looks so tiny and frail hunched over her computer. Bruises cover the left side of her face from her eye to her jaw, and every time I see the finger marks around her neck, I want to punch Kolya so hard, his teeth come out his ass.
But her green eyes are bright, and she grabs Inara’s arm as I follow West into the living room.
“Look at this. Fifty million rubles to another bratva?” Wren shakes her head, then winces.
Inara’s lips curve into a smile, but there’s no mirth in her eyes. Only cold, calculating intensity. “He’ll be lucky to live another month. West, get over here. If we play this right, we can take him down for good—and keep our hands relatively clean.”
I peer over Wren’s shoulder, wrapping one arm around her waist. “How’d you find this?”
She smiles, a little lopsided with her swollen lower lip, and leans her head against my chest. “When I was hiding in his office, I installed a backdoor into his computer. I have access to his entire hard drive. Including his email.”
“Stupid idiot’s barely covering his tracks,” Inara says as she jabs her finger at the screen. “Any halfway competent law enforcement agency that cared could put him away for the rest of his life.”
“I can work with this.” West nods at Wren. “You’re good. Could probably give Cam a run for her money.”
“Cam?” Wren’s brows furrow. “Wait. You live in Seattle. Cam…from Emerald City Security?”
The former SEAL beams. “Yeah. That’s my girl. She remembers you. Was pretty disappointed when you turned down her old boss’s job offer.”
Wren looks dazed, and I can’t help filling in the last little detail. “And that old boss?” I crack a smile, though the sensation feels foreign. “That’s who gave Inara that pendant there.”
Understanding dawns in Wren’s eyes as Inara’s fingers brush the pink stone I don’t think she’s taken off since Royce clasped the chain around her neck. Some emotion I can’t read flits over Wren’s face. “Wow. I…wait. Old boss?”
“Cam runs Emerald City now,” Inara explains. “Royce—” her voice wavers for a beat, “—had a stroke last year. He’s good now, but he signed the company over to Cam and spends his time writing apps. That tracker Ry gave you? The Loc8tion software on your laptop? Those are his.”
“Oh…” Wren sways against me, and I tighten my arm around her.
West and Inara share a look—those two are so in tune, it’s ridiculous—and Inara angles her head towards the back bedroom. “You should get some rest. Let us see what we can do with this new intel. No matter what, we’re staying put until dark, so you’ve got some time.”
Nodding, Wren grabs a piece of paper and pen. “This is the key you’ll need to decrypt my notes. Everything I have from Elena and Zion.” After she scribbles down a series of eighteen letters and numbers, her writing shaky, she turns into me, and I scoop her up into my arms. She’s asleep before we even make it into the bedroom.
Cool fingers brush my jaw. “Ry?”
Instantly awake, I inhale sweet honeysuckle and find her green eyes almost ablaze with streaks of copper. Wren presses her lips to mine, and her little moan sends the blood rushing to my cock. I want to claim her, to feel her come apart in my arms, to taste her release as it floods my tongue, but she’s so battered and broken.
“Please,” she whispers. “I need you. You won’t hurt me.”
“How do you do that?” I thread my fingers through her hair, tightening just enough to hold her head still so she can’t look away. “Know what I’m thinking?”
Her smile is my sunshine, my oxygen, and I’d do anything to see her smile at me every day for the rest of my life. “Your eyes. You think you’re so mysterious. Or…maybe…stoic. But I’ve never met anyone who says so much with just their eyes.” At my frown, she draws her thumb across my lips. “When I met you, your eyes were…blank. Hard. Cold. I don’t know when they changed. After I was attacked, maybe?”
Avoiding her bruises, I feather kisses along her jaw. “I’ve trained for years to hide my emotions from the enemy. It’s how I survived Hell. But...it also cost me. I don’t want to be that person anymore. You make me…a better man.”
Wren shifts her hips to press against my hard length. “You did that all on your own. Now are you going to undress me? Or do I have to do everything around here?”
The challenge in her eyes snaps my control, and I roll her onto her back, straddling her and curling my fingers around the edge of her fleece pants. But then in the dim light seeping around the curtains, I see her bruises. “Promise me, Wren. If I hurt you, tell me.”
“I need you to hurt me,” she whispers. “Pain is real. You’re real. We’re real.”
Every protective instinct I have screams at me to stand down. To gather her in my arms and insist she sleep more. Or simply hold her and talk to her. But her short nails dig into my shoulders, desperate, and I yank the waistband over her hips.
Copper curls glisten with her arousal, and the scent of her fills the room. I try for gentle as I ease the sweatshirt over her head, and then she’s bared to me. In the light of day, her injuries look so much worse, and she cringes as she watches my gaze travel the length of her body, settling on the angry, red needle marks at her elbow.
“Ry…I’m…sorry.” Tears well in her eyes, one slipping down her temple, close to her ear. I wick the salty drop away with my kiss, then claim her mouth, my tongue meeting hers in a slow, languid dance I don’t want to ever end. But I have to reassure her, to tell her how beautiful she is. Or…show her.
Stretching out next to her, I trail the backs of my fingers along her cheekbone. “You’re perfect, sweetheart. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“I let him—”
“You didn’t let him do anything.” I take her hand, kissing the bruises on her fingers. “You fought back.” My lips trail down to her wrist, to the reddened burns from whatever he used to tie her up, then along the back of her forearm, where a bruise darkens her pale skin. Another defensive wound. Blocked punch, if I had to guess. “You protected yourself. You’re so fucking strong, Wren. When I saw you on that balcony…”
“I was a mess. I still am—”
“You were beautiful.” A smile tugs at my lips, and for once, I don’t fight it. “I stopped dead in my tracks. Couldn’t even speak for a few seconds. I’ve never been so scared. Not even in Hell. But then…you jumped onto that awning without a moment’s
hesitation. You’re so fucking strong, baby. You don’t see it. But I do.”
Reaching her elbow, I press a tender kiss to the needle marks, and under my touch, her body starts to relax. I wish I had the words to tell her how much she’s changed my life. The pieces of my heart she’s mended by simply being her. By seeing me. The man behind the scars.
Her nipple pebbles as I score my teeth over the tender nub. “More, Ry. Please…”
“Oh, I’m just getting started.” Pinching the other taut bud between my fingers, I kiss down the line of her stomach, all the way to her copper curls. “You taste like rain,” I murmur against her clit, and when my tongue traces lazy circles between her folds, she fists the sleeping bag and keens softly.
“Oh God. I need…I need…” Her heels dig against the floor, and she jerks and thrusts against my mouth. Wrapping one hand around her hip, I freeze as she whimpers in pain. But in the next breath, she begs, “Harder.”
I can’t get enough of her—the quiet gasps, the way she arches her back, the flood of arousal coating my tongue. Slipping two fingers deep inside her channel, I twist my hand, finding her G-spot as I suck on her clit.
“Ryker!” She slaps her hand over her mouth as she shatters, her entire body bucking helplessly, the waves of pleasure overtaking her.
My little bird gasps and shudders as she comes down from her release, and I hold her as gently as I can, taking in every curve, every freckle, and every bruise. I don’t need any fancy memory techniques for Wren. I’ll never forget a single detail. I can’t. They’re all written directly on my heart.
“Off,” she whispers as she tugs at the hem of my shirt. “I need to feel you. And see you.”
She’s seen me naked half a dozen times now, and I still pause. But though she hasn’t said the words, the love in her eyes spurs me on, and I reach behind me, grasping the collar and sliding the shirt over my head. Her palms skim my pecs, fingers tracing over my scars.
“You’re real, Ry. Every mark…every burn…is a part of you.” Wren offers me a small smile as she pulls off my briefs and strokes my cock. I’m so hard, her gentle touch threatens to undo me, and a bead of precum coats my crown, slips against her fingers.
When she wriggles down my body and swirls her tongue around my shaft, I groan. “Fuck, Wren. I won’t last if you keep doing that.” Her lips envelop me, and my balls ache with desperate need. “Baby, I don’t want you on your knees. I need to see your face. Look into your eyes.”
A quiet pop as she draws her lips over my crown accompanies the crinkle of the condom wrapper, and then the tight heat of her channel grips me as I slide home. A feeling I don’t understand spreads from the center of my chest, warm and soft and…right. Bracing myself over her, I thrust deep, and she wraps her legs around me.
“Harder,” she urges. God, this woman is perfect. My little bird. My angel. My everything. She saved me from my own demons, and now…I’ll do whatever I can to banish hers.
Her fingers dig into my ass, and I slam into her, so hard and fast I’m scared I’ll break her, but she holds my gaze, love reflected in her eyes. Grinding against her mound, I let myself go, her name tumbling from my lips like a prayer.
Wren follows me over the edge, her entire body quaking under me. “Ryker, oh God. Don’t ever let go,” she whispers as she wraps her arms around my waist and pulls me down on top of her.
“I won’t, baby. Never.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes, tumbling onto her cheeks. And now, her tremors aren’t from her release, but little choking sobs.
My heart stutters, panic stiffening my limbs. “What’s wrong, Wren? Talk to me. Did I hurt you?”
“No,” she says firmly. “No. I…I feel so…broken. But maybe…we’re all broken. Maybe…I didn’t understand until now how beautiful broken can be.”
37
Wren
I wake to a kiss and a light brush of knuckles against my bruised cheek.
Ryker smiles down at me, though I can tell the expression still feels foreign to him. “Sweetheart, I need to go check on West and Inara. See what the plan is. I…didn’t want you to wake up alone.”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Care.”
“You’ll learn.”
Our conversation from—was it only three days ago—plays in my head, and I cup the back of his neck. “Help me up? I want to come too.”
“You should rest.”
“Ryker.” He frowns at my tone, but I don’t care. “We’ve already had this discussion. More than once. Help me up or I’m going to do it myself and my knee still hurts.”
Pulling back the sleeping bag, he runs his strong hands down my left leg until he finds the swelling. “What happened?”
“You.” I grin but grab his arm when a mask of horror slides over his face. “When I jumped off the last balcony. I had to get to you. Stop worrying. It was either this or get shot. I think I got the better end of the deal.”
With a shake of his head, he starts to knead just above the swelling. A sharp pain travels up my thigh. I hiss, and he pauses, his fingers warm against my skin. “Right there?”
“Uh huh.”
Digging into the pocket of my discarded pants, he fishes out the tube of arnica and squeezes a dollop into his palm. “This won’t be comfortable. But it’ll help.”
Gritting my teeth, I meet his gaze. “Do it.”
His movements wouldn’t be called a massage on any planet. It feels more like he’s trying to dig deep into my thigh for buried treasure. But after a few minutes, the throbbing eases and it’s like all the tension in my leg fades away. When he skims his hands down to my ankle, over the bruising and abrasions from the metal cuff, his fingers stiffen. “I should have been faster.”
“I’m okay, Ry. For…right now, at least, I’m okay.”
The intensity of his multi-colored eyes shocks me, and I scoot forward so I can wrap my arms around him and brush my lips to his ear. “There’s so much I want to say to you. I…just need a little more time. But when it happens, I want you to remember…this was the moment I was sure.”
Ryker
I follow Wren out to the living room, my hand on the small of her back. She almost said the words. At least…I think she did. I can’t read her like she can read me.
West and Inara study his laptop, heads drawn together.
“Do we have a plan?” I ask. Wren heads for the kitchen, and I try not to watch her go, to worry about the slight limp, to call her back to my side because I don’t want her out of my sight.
Inara stares at me like she doesn’t recognize the man in front of her. “You okay, Ry?”
“No.” West and Inara wear twin expressions of shock at my admission, and I run my hand over my scalp, feeling the rough stubble from too many days without a razor. “How did you deal with it? When Royce…?”
“Badly.” Inara leans back against the table and her fingers close around the pendant at her throat. “I was a wreck. Shit. Every time he tried to get up, I was at his side. And he had a seizure the next day after dinner. I held it together until he’d recovered, but then I hid in the shower for ten minutes crying. And I do not cry.”
If she’s trying to reassure me, it’s not working. “How’d you get through it?”
“I talked to him. Eventually. Took me a couple of days. But dealing with things on my own was what got us into that situation in the first place.” Inara looks from me to West and back again. “I never apologized. I’m…sorry.”
West rests a hand on her shoulder and squeezes. “We’re a team, Inara. You didn’t do anything Ryker and I haven’t done before. In Ry’s case…this week, even.”
I don’t miss the dig, but the understanding in his deep blue eyes tells me we’re on mostly solid ground. “I don’t do the whole talking thing. Don’t know how.”
“You’re learning,” Inara says with a pat to my forearm. “It takes time.” Leaning closer, she lowers her voice. “If you love h
er, you try. Even if you mess it up half the time.”
Wren pokes her head in from the kitchen. “Anyone else want tea?”
“I’ll take some,” Inara says. “West’s coffee supply is running low and we’re going to need all the caffeine we can get tomorrow night.”
The former SEAL rolls his eyes. “You live in Seattle too, you know. Try packing some beans in your bag next time.”
Inara laughs and jabs him in the side. “And risk you ridiculing my choices? No way.”
West feigns offense, and all four of us laugh—though I think my rough attempt sounds more like a barking dog than a human. But the feeling of family fills the room, and as I meet Wren’s gaze, light touches her green eyes for the first time since she was taken, and a piece of my soul settles.
Maybe…we’ll all be okay.
When we have mugs of strong tea in our hands, we gather around the table so West and Inara can go over the plan.
“Kolya’s men found all of the cameras,” Inara says. “And the battery in the thermal cam across the street went dead a few hours ago.”
“Fuck. Why haven’t you replaced it? He could be anywhere right now.” Trying to contain my frustration, I clench my free hand so tightly the knuckles pop. Wren’s fingers slide over mine, finding the beads around my wrist and tracing them slowly, and I force myself to breathe.
“Calm down,” West orders. “We don’t need to know where he is right now, because we know he’s going to be at the mansion tomorrow night. And we’re pretty sure Elena and half a dozen girls are going to be with him.” West taps the keyboard, and an email thread pops up on the screen.
“This is an exchange between Kolya and a guy named Andrian Popov,” Inara says. “Kolya’s inviting Popov to an auction tomorrow night. And it’s pretty clear from his wording that he’s never met Popov before.”
“The wording?” I ask.
Inara gestures vaguely, her hand in the air. “It’s formal. Like Popov is someone Kolya respects. Given what I’ve seen in the rest of his correspondence, this isn’t his usual MO. He’s the alpha. The god among men. But in this thread, he’s deferential, careful. Almost meticulous in his sentence structure. And he signs off with ‘you honor me with your response.’ The phrase doesn’t translate directly, but that’s basically what it means.”
On His Six Page 21
