Guts & Glory: Ryder (In the Shadows Security Book 2)

by Jeanne St. James

When she got to the large double doors of the shed, she noticed they were cracked open and slipped into the darker interior.

  Hesitating just inside, she stared at the spot where his ATV had been parked earlier. The spot where they’d had sex. That memory made everything within her clench.

  She only hoped he’d want to repeat that performance tonight. But this time in his bed with both of them fully naked.

  Yes, she’d like to explore his whole body with her tongue. Especially after seeing his naked, muscular ass earlier when he’d been getting dressed.

  He certainly hadn’t been self-conscious of his nudity. But then he had no reason to be. He was put together well. Very well.

  Using her thumb, she wiped a little bit of saliva that had caught in the corner of her lips.

  Back to the task at hand...

  Before they had left the shed earlier, he had thrown both sets of keys, for his Scout and the ATV, into the large gun safe standing in the corner on a cement slab. She hurried over to it and tried the handle.

  Locked.

  She let her gaze slide around the shed. The only light in the building came from windows that were even dirtier than the ones in the cabin. Well, she wasn’t cleaning those. It was a storage building, after all.

  A few metal cabinets hung from one wall over what looked like a work bench. Her gaze roamed over a couple chainsaws, garden and hand tools, and a few red plastic gas cans nearby.

  Then her eyes landed on an old free-standing, rustic cabinet built from wood. Covered in dust, it appeared to have been in the shed for a very long time.

  As she approached it, she noticed it had a little wooden latch and no lock on it, unlike some of the other cabinets which probably held more expensive tools and the like.

  She blew on the wooden handles, coughing as the dust cloud blew back in her face. Flipping the latch with her finger, she opened one side and peered into its dark interior.

  Bingo!

  She swung both doors wide and grabbed her discovery. She clutched the old bottle of whiskey covered in years of grime like it was a prize. She retrieved what appeared to be a somewhat clean rag from the work bench and wiped off the top before unscrewing it and taking a sip.

  She let the liquor slide down her throat and then released a long, relieved sigh.

  Yes, that’s what she needed to smooth out the edges. She took a longer sip the second time and then gauged the level of amber liquid in the bottle. She’d have to ration it since it wasn’t full. And she had no idea how long this little “vacation” on this mountain would last.

  Okay, just one more little sip. The warmth swirled through her as the whiskey landed in her belly. She screwed the lid back on and put it back into the cabinet in the exact spot where she found it, then searched for more.

  She found an old flask at the very back of the shelf but when she shook it, she was disappointed to find it empty. With a frown, she put that back and her hand knocked into a wooden box. Instead of sliding it back into its place, she pulled it out and stared at it.

  It appeared hand-made and had the initials DBR skillfully carved into the lid. She ran her finger over the letters, wondering what the B stood for.

  She could think of a few things.

  Bossy. Bastard.

  No, that wasn’t fair. More like badass or brave.

  She was starting to look at him in a different light than she’d ever had before.

  Had he always been hot? Fuck yes.

  And that slight southern accent of his? Just made certain parts of her quiver.

  But in the past, she’d never been thrilled to see him. When she did, that meant her ass was about to be dragged out of somewhere she most likely didn’t want to leave.

  Funny, her cousin had six bad-to-the-bone men working for him. But every single time it had been Ryder who’d shown up to get her. She was pretty sure he didn’t volunteer for the job.

  It was like he was being punished for something.

  She moved back to the workbench, put the box down and stared at it for a few seconds.

  Why did she feel that if she opened it, she’d be getting a glimpse into Ryder’s life he hadn’t planned on sharing?

  But then... why wasn’t it locked up? Why was it just sitting in an unlocked cabinet in the shed where anyone hiking by could take it?

  It could be just an empty box. One he made in Boy Scouts or something. Maybe she was making more of a deal out of it than she should.

  She turned her head and listened carefully to make sure she didn’t hear the ATV.

  It was quiet. The only noise coming from the birds in the surrounding trees.

  She held her breath as she unclipped the little metal latch, then slowly and carefully raised the lid like something was going to jump out and bite her.

  Well, if any spiders were hiding in there, she was going to lose her shit. She shuddered.

  The little rusty metal hinges creaked as she finished lifting the lid and she sucked in a breath.

  Three patches laid on top. She carefully pulled each one out like they were made of glass and breakable. The first patch said “RANGER” in the center of a ribbon-type banner and had the numbers “75” to the left and “RGT” to the right. Under that was a worn patch of the American flag that was backwards. She ran her thumb back and forth over the last one which simply read “RYDER.”

  She chewed on her bottom lip. Why would he keep these personal items not only here, instead of at home in Shadow Valley, but out in a shed?

  Did he forget they were out here?

  She placed his name patch to the side but had a hard time dragging her eyes from it back to the box.

  When she did, she noticed that under the patches sat a medal.

  She frowned, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

  This medal wasn’t a typical medal. Not one she’d seen on the news or in a movie.

  Or, hell, anywhere.

  It was special. And personal.

  This “medal” was created from aluminum foil, beads, and dried globs of glue.

  It was messy. Crude.

  Clearly made by a child.

  Did Ryder have kids? Was he keeping that a secret?

  Her fingers shook as she carefully lifted it and tilted it toward the muted light coming through the yellow-hazed window.

  “Metal of Value” was written in black permanent marker across the top.

  Metal of value.

  She had no idea what that meant. What any of it meant.

  But she was afraid of breaking it or knocking even one bead off. Someone somewhere put time and love into creating this object.

  As she went to put it back in the box, a piece of yellowed paper at the bottom caught her eye. She placed the “metal of value” to the side with care and pulled out what looked like a letter.

  As she unfolded it, it was clear that this handwriting wasn’t from a child. It was neat and most likely written by an adult. The writing was slanted like the person was left-handed, but the handwriting was bold and readable.

  She skimmed the note, saw a man named Benjamin had signed it. Was that his last name? First name? Did it matter?

  No, what mattered was the content of that note as she started again from the top and read it more slowly.

  “I know our mission was a black op, but you deserve the Medal of Valor, bud. You saved my ass when you came back for me, even knowing you were putting yours on the line by stepping into a direct line of fire. You could have died, given up your life to save mine. It was selfless and there aren’t a lot of people like that left in the world.

  “I wish they’d give you that medal, because you EARNED it. But since we weren’t officially there, you’ll never get the recognition you deserve.

  “You don’t know what it was like to come home to my family, bud. What it meant to me to see my son for the first time after I thought I’d never see him again. I’m not ashamed to admit that I bawled like a fucking baby. It freaked my son the fuck out, but when I got my shit
together, I explained how my friend saved my life and helped me return home to him and his mother. I told him you deserved a medal but would never receive any kind of recognition. So, he decided to make you one himself to thank you for bringing his dad home. I know it ain’t much and certainly not enough, but it’s something...

  “If you ever need me, my friend, I’m there... Anything, Anytime, Anywhere. Sua Sponte.”

  Sua Sponte.

  She had no idea what that meant or what language it was.

  She gently refolded the letter and carefully put it back in the bottom of the box. She added the rest of the contents back the way she found it. After sliding the box back on the shelf, she secured the cabinet.

  She stared at the closed doors for a moment.

  Fuck. Ryder had saved a man’s life.

  He’d probably saved a bunch of people’s lives.

  The man had done so much in his life. Hell, he was a hero.

  What had she accomplished?

  Nothing.

  She was almost thirty years old and had not a goddamn thing to show for it.

  She’d been nothing but a waste.

  She quickly reopened the cabinet, grabbed the bottle of whiskey and shut it once more.

  She untwisted the top again on the bottle and lifted it to her lips.

  She was no better than the bastard whose sperm made her.

  The rotten apple hadn’t fallen far from that poisoned tree.

  She was nothing but a burden to her family, to the club... Hell, even to Ryder.

  If it wasn’t for her, he’d be home doing whatever the man did instead of holed up in this cabin on a mountain alone with her.

  She lifted the bottle again and took another swig.

  She was such a waste of space. Why the hell did Ryder want to fuck her? Was it because she’d pushed him to it? Would he have done it otherwise?

  She took another drink, twisted the cap back on and headed back to the cabin.

  She needed to brush her teeth and hide the whiskey before he returned.

  Chapter Eight

  Ryder put two plates on the table and stared at Kelsea. She’d kept herself busy since he came back into the cabin about an hour ago.

  She’d been cleaning, like he asked. Though, he never expected her to listen.

  He pursed his lips as he watched her ass wiggle back and forth in his boxers as she scrubbed at one of the windows.

  What had gotten into her?

  This wasn’t the Kelsea he knew. In fact, her behavior made him a little suspicious.

  “Dinner,” he called.

  “I’m almost done with this one.”

  “No, you’re done now. You can finish tomorrow. It’s late and we need to eat.”

  By the time he returned with two field-dressed groundhogs, had skinned them and threw them in the smoker, the sun had already started to set.

  It took the pigs two hours to smoke just right. Which made it a lot later than he wanted to eat. Which meant he had no patience for her dawdling right now.

  He had shredded the meat off the bones outside and buried the skin, bones and everything else they wouldn’t use out in the woods away from the cabin.

  Now he had perfectly smoked, shredded whistle pig mixed with a hickory BBQ sauce, topped with a bit of local homemade coleslaw, and a touch of horseradish all piled up on a fresh roll on their plates. To the side of that, he’d spooned a healthy portion of bean salad he’d picked up at the grocery store’s small deli counter. The two glasses of sweet tea he’d put out earlier were starting to sweat.

  Between the chili and the bean salad, no one should be lighting a match in the cabin any time soon.

  He pulled his seat out and glanced over to where she was still working. “Darlin’. Dinner. Now.”

  “In a sec.”

  His brows furrowed and in a few long strides, he was at the window she was cleaning, yanking her off the chair she’d been standing on to reach all the panes.

  She squealed in surprised.

  He met her wide eyes as he held her in his arms. “When I say now, I mean now. Not when you feel like it. This ain’t your mother’s place, it’s mine. I make the rules. It’d be best if you remember that.”

  “It’d be best if you remember that I’m here against my will. So, your rules don’t mean shit.”

  He pursed his lips as he considered her. “What happened to the Kelsea who was ridin’ my dick earlier?”

  “Dick only goes so far. Maybe you need to remember that, too.”

  He raised a brow. “Do I?”

  “You can put me down now.”

  “Down over my knee again?”

  Her chest rose and a shaky breath slipped from between her soft, kissable lips. It was not only hard to ignore those but also her pebbled nipples visible under the undershirt she was wearing.

  His dick couldn’t ignore those, either. He let her slide down his front until she was on her feet. “Spankin’ you won’t be punishment, so go.” He pointed toward the table. “Let’s eat while I think of a better punishment for one, when you lie to me, and two, when you talk back.”

  “I’ll like it all,” she said as she headed to the table, a flush in her cheeks and a sparkle in her eye.

  “Brat,” he mumbled under his breath. Problem was, he’d like to give it all to her, too. Too much so.

  He watched as she pulled out the other chair and plopped her ass in the seat. Without even a glance in his direction, she lifted the sandwich and took a big bite.

  “Must’ve forgotten your manners,” he grumbled as he moved to the table and settled across from her. “I’m sure your momma taught you some.”

  “What she should’ve taught me was not to fuck assholes. That was a life lesson she and I both could’ve benefited from.”

  He tilted his head as he watched her shove the thick sandwich into her mouth and take another big bite. “No one’s forcing you to fuck assholes.”

  She swallowed, then shrugged. “You’re right. I guess I prefer them. Must take after my mother in that regard.”

  He dropped his gaze to his plate, picked up his sandwich and took a bite of his own. Damn, that shit was good.

  “I don’t like beans.”

  He swallowed his mouthful and chased it with some sweet tea. “And?”

  “Next time get something else.”

  He sucked on his teeth, waited for a moment for his blood pressure to settle, then said, “Next time you’re makin’ the meal. I gave you enough time to settle in, now the cookin’ is on you. You want me to smoke meat, I’ll do it. But other than that, it’s all you, darlin’. You turned your nose up at my chili, now you’re turnin’ it up at the best bean salad in a hundred-mile radius. You make a list of what I need to pick up on my next run and I’ll do so. But I can tell you it’s not gonna be a box of cereal and a gallon of fuckin’ milk.”

  “I don’t cook.”

  “You do now.”

  “I don’t have any recipes and don’t have the internet to look any up.”

  “Gotta binder full of my granny’s recipes. Don’t need the internet.” He picked up his glass and took another sip of his tea. She was going to have to make that, too. And learn just how sweet he liked it.

  “I can borrow your phone.”

  “No service up here.”

  “How did you talk to Diesel, then?”

  “Carrier pigeons.”

  She put the remainder of her sandwich down and stared at him. “I’m not allowed to lie but you are?”

  “You’re catchin’ on, darlin’.”

  She opened her mouth, then shut it and picked up her sandwich again.

  “Good choice.”

  She lifted a brow. “What?”

  “Not talkin’ back.”

  She rolled her eyes and shoved the last bite of her sandwich into her mouth. “Damn, that was good. I need another one of those.”

  He tipped his head toward her plate. “Soon as you eat your beans.”

  She shoved her
plate away, patted her belly and lied, “I’m full.”

  “What’d I tell you about lyin’?”

  “I forget.”

  He snorted and shoveled bean salad into his mouth.

  She eyed his sandwich. “That was good meat. You might have to tell Ace how to smoke his venison like that. It’s never been that good.”

  “I would if it was venison. Ain’t deer season, darlin’.”

  Her gaze lifted to his and she pursed her lips. “Rabbit?”

  He smiled down at his plate and picked up his sandwich. “Nope.”

  She sat back in her chair and stared at him. “What was it?”

  “Said I was makin’ smoked whistle pig, proof that you don’t listen.”

  “That wasn’t the name of the recipe?”

  “It is, but it’s also the source of the protein.” He lifted his head again and met her eyes. “Your uncle likes to hunt, then?”

  “Yes... Ryder... what is it?”

  “Dinner.”

  “Well, whatever it is, it’s good. I’m sure the leftovers will be even better tomorrow night for dinner. If we’re careful enough, it might even last until we go home in a couple days.”

  “Better dig through those recipes and make a grocery list. This groundhog will only last for our lunches, not our dinners, too.” He forked more beans into his mouth, chewed slowly and waited.

  He heard the scrape of her chair but concentrated on his plate to hide his grin.

  When he heard her making noise in the kitchen he looked up, expecting her to be having a hissy fit about eating an oversized rodent that could predict the weather.

  What he saw surprised him. She was scooping more groundhog meat from the aluminum pan onto a roll.

  “What are you doin’?”

  “Well, since it’s not going to last, I’m eating another one. And fuck those beans.”

  He shook his head and bit back a laugh. “You’re just itchin’ to be punished for disobeyin’, aren’t you?”

  She glanced over her shoulder and winked at him. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  He winked back at her and no longer hid his grin.

  She held up the plastic bag of rolls. “Want another one?”

  “Abso-fucking-lutely. But you’re gonna eat your beans.”