Ryder

by Diana Gardin

  The last time I was in Indigo and Lawson’s backyard, I was a witness to the two of them getting engaged. It was a beautiful moment in their lives, and the memories come flooding back now. The wayward thought strikes me before I can stop it. I wonder if I’ll ever have that kind of happiness in my life.

  Seeing as how I just pushed away the only man I’ve had a true connection with maybe ever, that doesn’t seem likely to happen anytime soon.

  If ever.

  But my baby girl is all I need, and if we ever get out of this Eli mess I’ll be thankful to have a life with her without looking over our shoulders all the time.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” Indigo points toward one of the cushioned seats on the outdoor sectional she has on the covered patio. I plop down, kicking off my sandals, tucking my legs underneath me, and taking a sip of my ice-cold tea. “How are you doing?”

  I settle back into my chair and stare up at the blue sky: white fluffy clouds moving at their own Southern pace along toward the horizon. “Things are…complicated.”

  Indigo takes a seat beside me, resting one leg under the opposite knee. Producing a bottle of rum from Lord knows where, she spikes both our glasses of tea with it.

  “This isn’t a sober kind of conversation.” She tops off our glasses and then puts the liquor down on a glass-topped side table with a smile.

  I groan, placing a hand on my forehead. “How’d you know?”

  She tilts her head to one side, taking a sip. “A girlfriend knows this shit. Tell me. And does it have anything to do with the hot piece of man who is doubling as your bodyguard these days?”

  My mouth falls open. “Why would you assume that?”

  She smirks. “Do you forget so soon? I was undercover with Lawson for weeks. Confined to an apartment for the most part, just the two of us. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t resist his fine ass any longer. And from the look on”—she indicates my entire body—“every single bit of you? The same thing has already happened to you.”

  I gasp, ogling her before taking a large gulp of my spiked tea.

  “And you could do worse, you know,” GoGo continues. “Thorn is fucking hot.”

  Rolling my eyes skyward, I let my head drop against the back cushions of the outdoor sofa. “This is not what I want to talk about. There is nothing going on between me and Ryder.”

  She lifts a brow. “You call him Ryder?”

  I flip a hand toward her. “It’s a long story and it kind of just stuck. Anyway, there’s nothing going on. I mean, there might have been something. Like, for a few hours yesterday. A really amazing something. But I cut it off and now it’s done.”

  Indigo’s eyes are triumphant. “See! I knew it.” And then her gaze narrows. “And why would you cut it off?”

  I explode. “Because I have enough on my plate with Eli and…and everything else! I can’t go to work, I can barely leave that damn safe house for a second! The last thing I need is to be playing house with a man with a superhero complex. I don’t need to be saved, Indigo. I can save myself.”

  Indigo’s smile is knowing. If there’s anyone who understands standing up for yourself, it’s this woman. Her background is as wild as they come, and the result is a woman who’s a little rough around the edges but who can take care of herself and those around her. I admired her before I knew she was a badass cop, and now I’m proud to be able to call her my friend.

  “Just trust me, GoGo. This isn’t the right time for me to have a man in my life. Maybe one day. But not right now.”

  She gives me the side eye, sipping her tea. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, sweetie. And in the meantime, Thorn is just gonna keep right on lookin’ the way he does. And all those sparks I sense between the two of you are just gonna keep on flamin’ and growing stronger. There are just some things you can’t fight. No matter how hard you try.”

  “Well, that didn’t exactly go the way I expected it to.” Ryder’s voice is still strained as he drives us back from Kure Beach.

  “No…I guess not. We’re not close to finding out where Eli is, are we?”

  Or how close he is to finding out about Dove.

  There’s a tremor in my voice, and Ryder must have heard it, because he pulls the BMW over to the side of the road and turns, giving me his full attention.

  “I don’t want Eli Ward to take up any more residence in that gorgeous head of yours. Do you hear me?” He lifts my chin so that I’m looking at him. “He can’t get to you. Not while I’m standing between him and you. Okay?”

  I nod, taking a deep breath. “It’s not that I’m scared of Eli hurting me, exactly. I’ve spent the last year of my life preparing for him. If he comes for me, I feel like I’ll be ready.”

  Ryder’s eyes flash. “But you won’t have to be. Trust me. Let me protect you, Frannie. Let me help you. It doesn’t have to be just you against him anymore.”

  It doesn’t have to be just you against him anymore. His words play in my head over and over again. I allow my mind to wrap itself around them, let myself believe them.

  What if he’s right? What if I can trust him, and he can help me with everything I’m trying to take on alone?

  All I want to do is tell him. Talk it through with the one man I feel understands me, despite the short time we’ve known each other. Something about Thorn Ryder makes me want to spill my secrets to him, and makes me feel so sure that I’ll be safe if I do.

  “Ryder—”

  The back windshield on Ryder’s BMW explodes. I don’t register any sound except for that of shattering glass, but my brain works in slow motion as I try to focus on what just happened.

  Did our car just get hit?

  But then another blast breaks out the back passenger-side window, and I know what that sound is. Everything inside me grows cold and still.

  Gunshots. Oh, shit…someone is shooting at us.

  When the driver’s side window explodes, leaving a ringing in my ears, Ryder is already in motion, flinging himself across the console and unbuckling my seat belt as his body covers mine. His left hand maneuvers the automatic seat control so that my seat flattens. He’s talking, his words fast and hard, and it takes me a moment to realize that he isn’t speaking to me.

  His car’s Bluetooth speakers have activated.

  “Gunshots fired on Route Forty-Two. We’re under fire. Unknown assailant could be approaching the vehicle.”

  Lawson’s voice emits from the speakers. “I’m already in the car and on my way to you, man, hang in there.”

  Bain’s voice joins in. “Cowboy and I are a mile out. Closing in fast. Be there in a minute, maybe less. How’s Frannie?”

  I register the movement of Ryder as he shifts above me. I understand that he’s trying to redistribute his weight so that he isn’t crushing me, but that information seems to be coming to me from very far away.

  I’ve been beaten, I’ve been pushed, I’ve been broken.

  But I’ve never been shot at.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” It’s the tender voice that I’ve noticed Ryder reserves just for me. “Talk to me. Are you hit?”

  His words register, but wrongly. Like they’ve traveled a long way to get to me and they’ve arrived through the thickest fog imaginable. I blink, the weight of his body against me making it difficult to speak. I try as hard as I can, but the shock that’s quickly overtaking my body is making it hard for me to register my limbs. “I…I think I’m fine.”

  “That’s good, baby. Stay with me, okay? I’m going to get us out of here.”

  No more gunshots have hit the car in the span it’s taken for him to speak to his team and ask me how I’m doing.

  “I’m going to get back in the driver’s seat and try to assess the situation outside. You stay down, out of sight. You got me?”

  All I can do is nod; my words don’t seem to be working correctly.

  “Good girl.”

  I feel it when Ryder moves, the absence of him feeling like my own personal security blank
et has been lifted.

  “Thorn.” My voice is nothing but a gasp.

  A sharp intake of breath. A strong hand engulfs mine where I lie in the front seat. “I’ve got you, baby. I promise, I’ve got you.”

  Air escapes my lungs, a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

  Comfort. Solace. Assurance.

  I’m scared. I don’t want to admit it or say it out loud, but someone is shooting at us. And I have a daughter out there, waiting for me to come back to her. Dove needs me.

  I can’t die today.

  Ryder moves, smoothly transitioning from his position above me to the driver’s seat. I turn my head, craning my head to watch him. His neck swivels as he searches through the side window. The front windshield is blown out, so he doesn’t have a clear vantage point, and he can’t use his rearview because of the shattered glass behind him.

  The only clue I have that something bad is about to happen is the curse Ryder lets slip from his lips just before the driver’s-side window shatters in a shotgun blast.

  13

  RYDER

  The driver’s-side window shatters, but not before I have a chance to duck beneath the opening and pull my rifle from beneath the driver’s seat. The assailant shot from a short distance, so I hold my ground, barely breathing, waiting until I actually hear the crunch of his boots approaching our vehicle. I know my team is mere seconds away from me, so I have nothing to lose when it comes to protecting the woman beside me.

  She’s my priority. I know that whoever has come for us has actually come for her. And there’s no fucking way I’ll let them get to her.

  The intruder approaches, and when I sense he’s close enough to the driver’s-side door to make an impact, I make my move. Planting both feet against the door, I engage the handle with one free hand and kick out as hard as I can. Hurtling through the opening as nimbly as possible, I land on the asphalt outside the BMW, just feet away from the gunman I managed to knock flat onto his back. His grunt, discombobulated and pained, is all I need to push myself off the ground and keep moving.

  Launching myself on top of him, I straddle his hips and whip his shotgun from his grip, pressing my gun against his throat.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt like this. Like I can kill without question. There’s an enemy in my territory, and if it comes down to him or us, it’s most definitely not going to be me or Frannie.

  He’s a dead man.

  His windpipe is millimeters away from being crushed. Dark hair falls from a ski cap, black clothes give away the fact that he’s up to no good.

  The words that escape from my mouth are deadly. Calm. Precise. “Talk. You have one chance. Where is the man who sent you after her? Where is Eli Ward?”

  He hesitates, staring into my eyes with bloodshot ones of his own. My entire body is working on overdrive, and half of me is still with Frannie in that car.

  I didn’t get to properly assess her health situation; I have no idea if she’s hurt or just in shock. One thing’s for certain: She’s not herself. She’s not responding in the way that she normally would, and that’s not good.

  The man beneath me shudders, and then musters enough courage and strength to spit in my face.

  Motherfucking bastard.

  “You think I’m fucking with you, you son of a bitch?” My voice rises to a roar, and I raise the butt of my rifle to beat the bastard in the side of the face.

  But before I bring it down, a sick grin spreads across his lips. “I wasn’t sent after her.”

  As I stare down at him, realization breaks through and I let the rifle continue its trajectory, slamming it against his temple.

  His neck snaps to the right, and he moans.

  Behind me, Lawson and Ben are here, pulling me away.

  “Easy, man. We got you.”

  I yank my arms, straining to escape their grip. “Don’t. I need to get me out of him. He shot at us…That motherfucker Eli wants me out of the way so he has a clear road to Frannie.” My pulling and twisting is futile. My brothers won’t let go.

  Lawson’s voice is low in my ear. “Give him over to Bain. He can get out of him what we want to know. You know he can.”

  My thought process is slower than usual, mostly because all I want to do is get to Frannie. She’s definitely in shock, but she could be hurt as well.

  I nod. “Yeah, okay. But the second you have anything worthwhile, you send me the information.”

  Lawson’s look is solemn. “You have my word. I’ll deliver it myself. Go check on Frannie.”

  With one last look at the sorry asshole lying in the gravel, now occupied by Bain, I turn back to the shot-up BMW. Climbing inside, I find Frannie lying in the same position where I left her.

  “Hey, sweetheart. It’s me. You’re safe…we got him. Can you move?”

  I don’t want to touch her, too afraid I might touch an unseen wound or hurt some bruise that I can’t yet see.

  Her breath is coming fast, too fast, and she blinks at me repeatedly. When I grab for her hand, it’s cold and clammy.

  Shock.

  “Fuck,” I mutter. Climbing out of the car again, I jog around to the passenger side and open her door. With one click to release her seat belt, I pull her into my arms and yank her from the car. “We’re going home, sweetheart. I’ll have you checked out there. Sound good?”

  She nods, almost frantically, twining her arms around my neck and pulling herself close to my chest.

  For the first time since I’ve known her, Frannie is showing me her vulnerable side. And it’s a side I didn’t expect, but that I can’t resist. I almost melt into her, the way she’s cradled to my chest like she belongs there. Her scent envelops me, mixed with the smell of sweat and fear.

  “Take me home, Thorn…please.”

  It doesn’t escape my notice that it’s the second time she’s called me Thorn today. And all I want to do is get her somewhere safe. Give her the safety and security that she deserves more than anyone I’ve ever met.

  “I’ve got you.” It’s the only thing I know to say, so that she knows that no matter what, I’m here for her.

  No matter what.

  It takes me less than ten minutes to make it the remainder of the way home, because I’m weaving in and out of traffic in Bain’s car and breaking at least fifty laws to get her back sooner rather than later. When I pull into the parking garage and swing into a spot, I take one look at Frannie and realize she’s still not doing well.

  “Hey, sweetheart.” Getting out of the car, I toss the words over my shoulder before closing my door. “Stay with me.”

  When I yank her door open and pull her into my arms, she’s shaking. She also winces, and icy fear slips and slides around inside my chest.

  “You’re in shock, Frannie. Something hurts?” Swallowing hard, I kick the door closed with a foot and begin walking us at a clip toward the elevator.

  “I’m f-f-fine.”

  I grit my teeth. “This is one time I need you not to be the toughest woman on the planet, Pistol Annie. You’re not fucking fine. As soon as we get inside, I’m going to look you over.”

  We ride the elevator in silence, my heart hammering and the adrenaline still surging through my veins. As soon as the doors open onto our penthouse, I stride inside and order the wired smart speaker to call Jacob.

  Jacob’s voice comes through the condo’s surround wiring. “I’m already at the scene. Did you get Frannie home safely?”

  I pause in my trajectory toward the bathroom. “Yes. But I need you to send Dr. Hughes to check her out. She might be shot, and she’s in shock.”

  Jacob’s voice barks out, “Did you just say she might be shot?”

  “I gotta go, Boss Man. I’m going to assess the damage. She’s responding and she says she’s fine. I need to see exactly what’s going on. Send the doc.”

  “Done. And I’ll call you as soon as I’ve minimized the damage here.”

  The call disconnects and I continue with Frannie in m
y arms down the hallway into the master bedroom. Bypassing the bed, I enter the enormous master bathroom and stand Frannie on the floor in front of the enormous double vanity. Noting that she’s still shaking, probably worse than she was a few moments ago, I swivel and grab a thick, fluffy towel from the rack hanging behind us.

  “I need you to undress, Frannie. At least down to your underwear. So I can see if you were hit with a bullet.”

  Her eyes widen. “I…I d-don’t th-think…”

  “Please. Do this for me.”

  She nods, and her shaking hands move to the button on the white denim shorts she’s wearing. After she makes a few passes at the button, I fold my fingers around hers.

  Gentling my voice, I wait until her eyes connect with mine. “Let me.”

  She answers with a jerky nod. Thumbing the button free, I slide the zipper down and then move the shorts over her hips and down her thighs. As they drop to the floor, I dip with them and allow her to step out one foot at a time.

  Returning to standing, I place her shorts on the counter beside her. Once I remove her denim jacket, my eyes go to her torso, and I immediately find the blooming red stain marring her shirt near her rib cage.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Trying not to scare her, I keep my voice steady and even. “Frannie…you’re bleeding. We’re going to see how bad the wound is under here, okay? What’s your pain level?”

  She glances down, looking like she’s surprised at the sight of the blood. “I-I don’t know. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

  Shock. It’s masking her pain. That could be good, or really, really bad. Jesus…how much blood has she lost?

  The fear in my chest wraps itself around my heart and squeezes its iron fist.

  Taking the knotted hem of the gray-and-white striped tank top she’s wearing, I hold her gaze, making sure she knows that this isn’t about anything other than checking her out, making sure she’s okay. She stares right back, taking a shaking breath.