Without Warning

by Reese Knightley

  “So why are you here?” Ryder growled at the man.

  “None of your business,” Toby snarled back, then drew in a breath and lowered his voice to Harrison.

  “Come on, Har, take me instead.”

  Har? Was the guy fucking serious? Shortening a classy name like Harrison to Har? Jesus Christ.

  “I told you not to call me Har. And no, not tonight. I’ll talk to you later.” Harrison walked back through the open apartment door and held onto it.

  For a moment, he thought the guy was going to refuse, but then Toby spun and stormed away down the hall.

  Toby shouldered past someone coming down the hallway.

  Ryder hadn’t even heard the elevator! He pulled his gun. It’s becoming a fucking circus around here.

  “Harrison,” a stranger called out, eyeing his gun.

  “Ryder,” Harrison snapped. “Daniel lives in the apartment building.”

  He tucked the gun away. Fucking shit, this place was too busy for his liking.

  “Do you need a ride to the fundraiser?” The man ran a hand down the front of his suit. The guy was big, not as big as him, but had some beef to him and could possibly match what little description Harrison had given about his attacker.

  “No, Daniel. Thank you, I have a ride.”

  Harrison gripped the door, and Ryder stalked back into the apartment. The door slammed, leaving Daniel standing in the hallway. Harrison flipped the deadbolt and spun on him.

  Ryder eyed Harrison. “Who was that?”

  “My freaking neighbor!”

  “You need to write down a list of people you know,” he growled.

  “Are you serious? That’s like over five hundred acquaintances.”

  “Then I need the names of everyone you know in this apartment building.”

  “That’s almost every person in this building, Ryder.”

  “Okay, then just list the ones who would show up at your door and ask you out,” he snapped, knowing he sounded unreasonable. Not all stalkers talked to their victims.

  Harrison rolled his eyes. “The only ones who would show up and ask me out would be Shelby and Daniel, and you’ve now met both!” Harrison slapped his hands on his waist, pulling the snug jacket back out of the way and stretching the white shirt beneath against his swimmer’s build.

  “Now, tell me, why are you harassing my friends?”

  “Why do you keep friends like that around?” he shot back.

  “Toby keeps the sharks at bay,” Harrison huffed, squinting at him.

  “I’ll keep the sharks away.”

  “Even the money hungry ones? Because thanks to the stipulations of my father’s will, I can never tell if my dates want me or my money.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you?” he rasped, and right on cue, that temper raced back into Harrison’s eyes.

  “You really are an asshole.”

  He smirked. He’d heard worse from clients. In fact, he was positive that Logan would soon get a complaint. Lifting his suit jacket from the back of the couch, he slid it on and adjusted his cuffs.

  “And don’t be pulling your gun on people who live here!”

  “I’ll pull my gun when I think you’re being threatened.”

  His words seemed to pull Harrison up short. After a moment, the man gave a slow sigh and looked him up and down shrewdly.

  Ryder wanted to fidget in his suit. He’d pulled out the big guns, wearing his black Kiton two piece for this occasion. It was one his ex had insisted he buy in order to accompany him to any upper society party. He used to hate wearing it, but since this event might have some of the wealthiest people in the state attending, he figured he’d fit in more. Fitting in would give him a chance to scope out any potential threats without being noticed.

  It irritated the fuck out of him that he held his breath while Harrison looked him over. He saw the exact moment Harrison realized the price of the Kiton. The man’s eyes grew wide, then his gaping mouth snapped shut. Ryder knew he more than met any rich snob’s expectations.

  Logan had been right about him; he knew how the other half lived. I’ve lived in their world before.

  “Very nice suit,” Harrison croaked and turned toward the door.

  Ryder clenched his jaw and snapped out a hand to draw Harrison to a stop.

  “I go first, always. Remember that,” he ground out and opened the door, ignoring Harrison’s pouting scowl.

  Thank fuck the hallway and lobby were empty and they could get to the limo without being stopped. He didn’t hold onto any hope that it would stay that way.

  Harrison had quite the entourage.

  Harrison

  “Who’s Daniel? Does he work for you?” Ryder fired off the questions.

  “No.”

  “Then why is he going to this function?”

  Harrison sighed and straightened his cuffs.

  “He’s the son of Councilman Elway.”

  “I’m going to need a list of all your male suitors.”

  “All of my what?” Oh my god. How was he going to take this all night long? “I don’t have male suitors,” he snapped.

  At Ryder’s skeptical look, he ground his teeth, holding onto his last nerve. “They’re acquaintances. Look up the word if you’re not familiar.”

  Ryder scowled at him.

  Harrison had to admit the guy looked hot in the black suit and tie. But then he reminded himself that even an asshole could look good wearing a suit that expensive.

  The driver pulled up to the curb outside the event hall.

  He looked at the circus of reporters outside. No hat for tonight, he sighed.

  Lights flashed at the limo. You’d think he was a Hollywood star or royalty the way they sought him out, but he was used to it. He’d always endured this part from the time his father had made it big.

  It never failed that reporters fired off a round of endless questions. Even with them stationed outside of his office building, it was at the events and parties where it became the worst. The reporters resembled vultures. He hated it, but it couldn’t be avoided. He reached for the handle.

  “Harrison, wait for me.”

  He’d become distracted and too late, he heard the words, but had already shoved open the door. Suddenly, there was a crowd crushing in with microphones in his face.

  “I said wait!” Ryder yelled, but Harrison could barely hear him over the growing noise.

  “Mr. Trudel! Can you comment on your visit to the police department with Mr. Freeman?” a reporter shouted and shoved a mic in his face.

  He wasn’t even out of the car yet. He couldn’t swing his legs out and stand because there were so many people closing in.

  Panic set in and the attack in the garage came back, sending a streak of terror through him. He couldn’t get out and he couldn’t retreat with the crush of bodies holding the door open.

  “Can you comment on your father’s will?” Another mic was shoved in his face.

  “Marry me!” another man shouted, shoving in between the crowd of people that were already at his car door.

  Ryder growled and reached over. The weight of the bodyguard crushed him back in the seat and as the panic increased, he cried out, the sound muffled and lost in the outside noise.

  With one massive hand, Ryder grabbed the door handle and pulled. Harrison felt every powerful muscle in the man’s ripped and corded bicep pull on the door, almost catching an arm and leg in the crowd. The people closest scrambled back, and the door slammed shut, closing out the noise and caging them into the silence of the limo.

  “What the hell?” he gasped beneath the hard weight, finally finding his voice.

  “I said to wait for me,” Ryder snarled.

  “Get off me!” he shouted, shoving at the mountain of muscle pinning him against the seat. His pulse skittered when the guy didn’t budge.

  “Calm down and listen to me,” Ryder’s deep voice boomed in his chest, and Harrison felt the vibration all the way to his toes. R
yder’s tone was hard, quick, and dangerous with the order. And it was an order.

  Harrison yanked his palms away from Ryder’s chest. “All right! Just get off me,” he hissed, his heart thundering.

  Ryder backed up and returned to the seat beside him.

  Harrison pressed his hands to his own chest and drew in several deep breaths. After a moment, he gripped his shaking hands together in his lap.

  The crowd outside the limo was overwhelming, much more than normal, but even the crowd paled in comparison to the powerful man sitting next to him.

  Sucking in another breath, he squeezed his hands, silently willing his pulse to calm the hell down.

  “Look at me.”

  Lips pressed and chin tipped, he turned to glare at Ryder.

  Hard brown eyes stared back at him, so close he could see tiny flecks of yellow. There was a small tic in Ryder’s jaw that the five o’clock shadow did nothing to hide.

  “This isn’t a game. I take your protection seriously. You don’t know what’s out there. I don’t even know what’s out there. Not really. I need you to follow my orders when it comes to your safety. Do you understand?”

  He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. With a deflated sigh, he nodded.

  “Yes.” He placed a hand over his mouth and fought back the need to add “sorry”.

  “Okay, I’m getting out and coming around. When I open your door, you can step out.”

  Harrison held Ryder’s gaze for a brief second before he was gone.

  “Crap. What am I doing?” he muttered, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

  A few minutes later, they avoided the reporters’ questions and were inside without any further mishap. Although he felt more than a little foolish about overreacting with Ryder in the limo, he could still feel Ryder’s muscled chest beneath his palms.

  Ryder seemed to have forgotten the incident. The guy’s probably used to people freaking out like that.

  When Harrison wasn’t shaking hands with people, he found his gaze drawn to the bodyguard. The man stayed close and sized up every single person who approached them. Ryder cased the place, and the only reason Harrison knew that was because he couldn’t stop looking at the guy.

  It’s only to make sure he’s still there, he told himself. The bodyguard made him feel safe even in the crush of people.

  A few people wandered by, and Harrison shook their hands in passing.

  “Evening, Harrison.” Shelby approached, holding out a glass of red liquid to him. “Cranberry, just how you like it.”

  Harrison reached for it, but the glass was plucked away from Shelby by Ryder. Harrison glanced up, but Ryder wasn’t looking at him, the bodyguard was watching Shelby.

  Shelby’s eyes widened when Ryder placed the glass on the tray of a passing waiter.

  “Good evening, Shelby.” Harrison smiled, trying to defuse the awkwardness.

  “Why do you insist on surrounding yourself with men who are no good?” Shelby asked him as if the topic was normal party conversation.

  Harrison frowned, a bit shocked at Shelby’s lack of decorum. “What are you talking about?”

  “The violence outside of your apartment tonight,” Shelby said.

  “You were there? I didn’t see you.”

  “I left.”

  “There you are,” Uncle Dean said, coming right toward him holding two glasses. Dean nodded to Ryder and turned for Harrison to hand him a glass of amber colored liquid.

  “There are some very powerful, influential people here that I need you to mingle with. They are potential clients, so be sure you give them enough attention.”

  Harrison gave his uncle an annoyed look and sniffed the drink his uncle had given to him. He took a large gulp. It turned out to be bourbon and he coughed from the burn.

  “Shelby, why don’t you go mingle somewhere,” Dean ordered.

  “Why?” A line creased between Shelby’s brows.

  “You need to be talking to people about the progress we’ve made with the video feed,” Dean said irritably.

  Shelby’s lips pressed flat, then his sharp gaze returned to Harrison before the man nodded and turned away. Shelby did have a point, the scuffle between Ryder and Toby had been violent.

  “Ease up, Uncle Dean. It’s a party,” he muttered, watching Shelby disappear into the crowd.

  “We don’t need him giving people the idea you have a boyfriend.”

  “Oh, for god’s sake, not this again,” he groaned. Ever since the damned will had been read, Dean acted like every event contained a potential husband.

  “Harrison,” Dean barked.

  “What?” He closed his eyes for a brief second and turned back to his uncle.

  “You might catch yourself a husband, and this whole thing will be settled once and for all,” Dean continued.

  “And Shelby’s chopped liver?”

  “You’re not interested in him,” Dean said.

  “I’m not. But I’m also not looking for a date here at a fundraiser. Besides, I did that once, remember?” he hissed quietly.

  Dean had the grace to look contrite. “Edward is a parasite.”

  “That’s putting it mildly.” He took another swallow of his drink.

  His uncle put his hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry,” Dean said and Harrison was reminded of how much his uncle had ranted and raved when he’d told him what Edward had done.

  “I know.” Harrison squeezed Dean’s arm. “It’s a party and I have people to meet.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Dean patted his shoulder, nodded to Ryder, and moved off.

  Harrison mustered up a smile and threaded his way through the crowd, greeting people as he went.

  Ryder’s protective form stalked close by, and in an odd way, it comforted him to know he wasn’t alone.

  “Well, if it isn’t the golden boy.” Sheila’s drunken breath suddenly wafted in his face. Her fingers latched like claws on his arm, fake nails digging deep. “Enjoying that money while the rest of us suffer?” she slurred.

  Ryder reached around and unlatched Sheila from him in two seconds.

  “Let me go, you Neanderthal,” Sheila hissed, yanked her arm away and wobbled. At least she had the awareness to keep her voice down. Her latest boy toy—he thought the guy’s name was Gary or Larry, he couldn’t remember her flavor of the month—pushed through the crowd and came up behind her.

  “Sheila, don’t do this here,” the boyfriend whispered.

  Something must have filtered through his stepmother’s hazy drunkenness, because she looked around and then turned on her high heels and lurched through the crowd. The boy toy followed, trying to keep her on her feet.

  Harrison rubbed his temple at a sudden headache, and he’d only just arrived.

  “I need another drink,” he muttered, holding up his empty glass, having no recollection of finishing it.

  “There’s another bar this way,” Ryder murmured, and he found himself guided across the room.

  He decided against another bourbon, ordering a cranberry juice instead, and took several grateful swallows.

  “I thought you meant something stronger.” Ryder said with lips twitching.

  If Harrison wasn’t mistaken, Ryder was trying to hide a smile.

  Harrison didn’t have that problem though, he felt his lips stretch. What a relief to smile after so much tension.

  “No. I need a clear head tonight.”

  “Watch it!” someone said nearby, drawing his attention. From here, Harrison could see that Toby had accidentally knocked into someone, spilling their drink.

  “Toby!” Harrison called to his friend.

  Toby was brushing liquid from the front of his suit and lifted his head to squint at him.

  “Har!” A too wide smile suddenly filled Toby’s face, and he carelessly pushed through the crowd.

  Ryder shifted closer.

  The alcohol wafted between Harrison and Toby. What the hell? Was everyone on a bender toni
ght?

  “Toby, how much have you had to drink?”

  “Not too much,” Toby laughed overly loud and took a hasty gulp of the drink in his hand. Some of the liquid dripped down his chin.

  With half a mind to call his friend a cab, he shook his head. “Just don’t overdo it, okay?”

  Toby smirked drunkenly and squinted at Ryder.

  “I see you really did bring your guard dog,” Toby snickered.

  “I’ll see you later. Preferably when you’re sober.”

  “Oh, come on, Har. That was funny!” Toby hooted, bringing attention from people who stood nearby.

  Harrison turned and made his way across the room. He didn’t care that Ryder prevented Toby from following him; in fact, he was grateful.

  Reaching a far wall, he stopped and turned to Ryder.

  “Sorry about that.”

  “About what?”

  “Sheila and Toby.” He closed his eyes for a moment.

  “You’re not responsible for their actions.”

  “I know, but still, it was uncalled for.” His mouth turned down and he sipped at his juice.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve been called worse names.”

  His eyes flew up to Ryder’s face. The man’s mouth was tipped slightly at the edge and humor laced the depths of his brown eyes, inviting him to see the humor in the situation.

  A smile stretched his lips and he got caught up for a moment staring into Ryder’s eyes. After a few seconds, Ryder’s gaze flipped away and traveled over the room.

  Harrison cleared his throat and turned toward the outside doors. “I better get to mingling.”

  Pushing open the door to the wide balcony, he stepped outside and found the senator, his wife, and a few councilmen in a group with their security detail standing nearby.

  “Harrison, my boy!” Senator Garrett Brinkmann turned and smiled.

  “Senator,” he said, holding out his hand, which was taken in a firm grip.

  “This is Ryder Free…” Harrison turned to Ryder at his side, but his words trailed off when the senator gripped Ryder’s hand.

  “Ryder! Hello, son.”

  Harrison’s mouth popped open when the senator drew Ryder into a quick hug.

  “Hello, Senator,” Ryder’s deep voice dropped affectionately.