He squeezed my hand. “He thought you were hot.”
“What? The man’s a pastor,” I argued.
“So pastors can’t find women hot?” Ryder countered.
I tugged on his hand, pulling him to a stop. “For argument’s sake, because I really think you’re insane, what if he did think I was attractive, why would that matter?”
“Because it does.”
“That’s not really an answer, Ryder.”
“It’s gonna have to be for now.”
I bit back a reply because I really had no idea if I could say what I thought, or if what I thought was even normal. He was acting possessive and (if I was being honest) I liked it, but it also put me on edge. I decided instead to stay silent and process everything when I was alone.
“What?” Ryder asked as he held the truck door open for me.
“Nothing.”
“I don’t play that game, Sadie.”
“Huh-uh. You don’t get to do that.”
“Hold that thought.” He shut the door and jogged to his side, climbing in next to me and starting the engine. “What don’t I get to do?”
“You don’t get to play the taciturn card and then demand answers from me. I don’t play that game.”
“Fair enough.” He pulled away from the curb and we headed back over the bridge.
That’s it?
I stared out the window and tried not to over-think things... unsuccessfully. I was sure he’d at least try to come to some form of common ground, but apparently taciturn was the word of the evening. I shook myself out of my melancholy because it truly wasn’t any of my business and he owed me no explanations, so it was irrational for me to even be disappointed. I conceded (to myself... sort of) that all of my feelings when I was around him were pretty illogical because I really liked him. A lot. I’d never felt like that before. Don’t get me wrong, I’d met gorgeous men before, but Ryder sent my world spinning off its axis. I didn’t know if it was because I was finally free to feel romantical or if it was him.
“Sadie?”
“Hmm?”
“I can’t talk to you about a few things, babe, but it’s not personal, yeah?”
“Yep.”
“Sadie,” he said on a sigh.
“What?” I smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not taking any of this personally. Really.”
“Is this a moment where you’re bein’ all female and telling me what I want to hear, all the while planning how you’re going to murder me in my sleep?”
“That’s an exclusively female thing?”
“Pretty sure cats do it too, but they’re typically just waiting until the woman kills you so they can eat your dead body.”
“Wow. You have an imagination on you.” I shook my head. “But no, neither I nor my cats are awaiting your death.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I mimicked.
“You’re sure?”
“Oh, my word, Ryder,” I admonished. “We’ve met once.”
“Tonight’s technically twice,” he corrected.
“Fine. But tonight we only spent a few hours with each other. It’s all good.”
“True.”
He became monosyllabic after our little conversation and it was weird. He seemed to be brooding rather than relieved that I’d essentially let him off the hook. My brain leaned on my psychology experience which helped me recognize that it was him and his process. And since I knew it was him, rather than me, I internally shrugged off his mood while giving myself the same pep talk (albeit, internally) I’d give my kids when conflicts arose.
My heart, though, was another story.
A part of me wanted to argue a little more. A part of me wanted to know his secrets and figure out a way to help. But I wasn’t that person to him, and that kind of made me sad. I really liked him and had felt a connection the first time we’d met. Perhaps it was the sheltered part of me romanticizing things, but there was something here and I wanted to explore it.
We pulled into the parking lot of my apartment building and I reached for the door handle.
“Huh-uh,” Ryder said in a warning tone, and climbed out of the truck.
At least his gallantry didn’t die with his ability to form complete sentences. He opened the door for me and helped me climb down and then followed me to my door.
“I had a really lovely time,” I said as I unlocked my door.
“Me too, Sadie. I’ll call you.”
I faced him and forced a smile. “Sounds good.”
He lingered for a second, studying me, and I watched as his face went through a few expressions. “Right. ’Night, Sadie.”
“Goodnight.” I let myself into the apartment and locked the door, leaning against it to catch my breath. Good lord, he was a strange one.
After removing my makeup and pulling on pajamas, I settled myself on the sofa and loaded up Die Hard. I needed a little action to take my mind off my sudden desire for violence. Maybe Ryder was right... maybe I did want to murder him in his sleep, just a little. I’d have to adopt some cats first though to make his prediction accurate. I shuddered. I hated cats, so that was out.
For the moment, I chose to engage in a little Bruce therapy and, as sleep overtook me, my thoughts of Ryder morphed with Bruce Willis’s balding head and made me smile.
Ryder
AN HOUR LATER, I chucked my keys on my desk and slammed the office door. “Damn it!” I’d royally screwed things up with Sadie and didn’t know how to fix them. Talk about worst timing ever. If I could just find my sister, I could go about my life and figure out how to put the pieces of my shattered family back together.
“Ryder!” Bennie called as he knocked on my door. “Cameron Shane’s here.”
“Send him back, would ya?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Another knock brought Cameron, and I waved him in. “What did you find?”
“She was sold.”
“Shit!” I slammed my fist against the wall, hissing in pain as my knuckles connected with brick. The pain felt right. It felt deserved.
“Damn it, Ryder,” Cameron snapped, and then yelled out the door, “Someone grab ice!”
“Who?” I rasped, before bellowing, “WHO?”
“Russian mob.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” I chanted. “Shit!”
“Char?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. Maybe. There might be a loose connection. I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad.”
“Look, we know who they are, at least who has Scottie currently,” Cameron said. “We brought down a trafficking ring a few years ago. The Azhishchenkov’s were head of that, and it’s highly likely they’re part of this somehow. We’ve got people in place. Scottie’s in Savannah, we’re just not sure where. Dalton Moore’s got connections there, so he’s gonna check it out.”
“Your FBI contact?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell happened?” Sandra cried out as she rushed into the office with ice. “Goddammit, Ryder, what did you do?”
Sandra Walker had been my bookkeeper and office manager ever since I opened the bar six years ago. A woman in her mid-fifties, she had teased, platinum-blonde hair, and piercings in her nose and lip, along with full sleeves of tattoos (and others she offered to show me on more than one occasion... I declined). She was a rough-talking, pack-a-day smoking, swear-like-a-sailor kind of woman, and I adored her. But she was also a bit like a mother hen and had the tendency to peck me to death.
“It’s fine, Sandy. Thanks.”
“It’s not fine, Ryder. You may have broken your hand.” She gently laid the ice pack over my knuckles. “Let me wrap it for you.”
“It’s fine,” I pressed.
“Stubborn mule.” She jabbed a finger at me. “One hour, mister. I’m comin’ back and if your hand is bad, you’re gettin’ an X-ray.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
She huffed and pulled the door closed on the way out.
&n
bsp; “You’re an idiot,” Cameron accused.
“Probably.” I grimaced. “I want to go to Savannah.”
“Figured you’d say that. Got us flights tomorrow morning. First flight out.”
“Thanks, man.”
“But there’s another problem.”
I scowled. “What?”
“Three girls have gone missing in the last three weeks.”
“Associated with Scottie?”
“Sort of,” Cameron hedged. “They were last seen here at the bar.”
“What the hell?” I shook my head. “No trace after that?”
“No.”
I swore again and sat on the edge of my desk.
“FBI’s gonna be asking questions,” Cameron said. “I talked to Dalt and he’s gonna run it.”
“Well, that’s somethin’, I guess,” I said. “How did you find out she was sold?”
“Scottie’s ex. We picked him up at a dive bar in Savannah, but he was of no help. He was so strung out, we could barely get his name out of him. From what we could make out, he sold her for a fix in Savannah, but that’s all he knows.”
I swore again. “You still have that bastard locked up?”
“Yeah. We’re throwing every charge we can at him in order to keep him there, but I don’t know how much he’ll be able to help us with finding her.”
I dragged my hand through my hair. “I had her home! She was getting past all this shit and then she runs off with him again. I don’t know what the hell I could have done differently!”
“We’ll figure it out.” Cameron crossed his arms. “Dalton’s meeting us in Savannah.”
“Priority is Scottie.”
“Yeah, man. Dalton’s got a sister. He gets it.”
I nodded.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Cameron said.
I gave him a chin lift and Cameron left my office. I settled myself on the sofa and dropped my face into my hands. I was gutted. The fact I had a slight idea what my sister might be going through was enough to drive me crazy. In the end, I had a few choice words with a god I wasn’t sure I believed in before getting back to work.
* * *
Sadie
Friday night arrived, and I was giddy with excitement as I opened the door to let Laura and Bethany in.
“Are you ready to get your groove on?” Laura asked, hugging me.
I shrugged. “Is that a thing?”
“Hells, yeah it is,” Bethany said, hugging me as well. “And if there’s no groove, there will be alcohol, so that’ll give us groove.”
I giggled. “If you say so.”
“Your hair looks amazing,” Laura said with a grin.
I had pulled the sides back and tucked them under a piece of hair I’d teased and layered over the back. It gave me a little height and it was very Jennifer Love Hewitt ala Ghost Whisperer days. “Thank you.”
“Can you do mine?” she asked.
“Of course.” I raised an eyebrow, taking in her silky-smooth bob. “But yours looks perfect. I’m not sure what I could improve on.”
“It’s so freakin’ flat right now. I hate the summer.”
I giggled. “Oh, I can give you a little volume. Piece of cake.”
“Makeup first,” Bethany ordered. “Then if we have time, we’ll fix your perfect hair. I hate you, Laura, you know that, right?”
She giggled. “I do. And since we’re not driving tonight, let’s drink. I brought wine.”
“Would you hate me if I didn’t?” I asked.
Laura cocked her head. “You know you’re allowed to, right?”
“Yes, it’s just I don’t particularly like it.”
“Oh, well, then our goal tonight is to find something you do like,” Bethany said.
“Works for me,” I said.
For the next hour, we did what I’d seen all girls do in the movies and on television while getting ready for a girls’ night out. We laughed, we critiqued, we told each other how beautiful we were, and then quickly told each other how much we hated each other because of how beautiful we were. It was a blast and it was perfect.
We were still giggling as we climbed into the backseat of our cab and headed to our first club destination in the Pearl. Pulling up outside the venue, we were early enough to grab a table and some food before the crush of the crowd arrived, and the dancing began.
“What can I get ya?” our scantily clad server asked.
“I’m going to have a Cosmo,” Laura said. “And so will my friend.”
“Cosmo?” I asked.
“You’ll love it, trust me.”
I rolled my eyes but managed to nod an affirmative to our waitress, and then Bethany ordered something called “Sex on the Beach,” and Laura ordered my food since I blushed so hard I had to hide my face.
As the night progressed, I discovered cosmos weren’t really my thing, but margaritas were. Holy moly, they were delicious, and I managed to finish two in less than an hour. Halfway through drink two, I looked up to find the room spinning, so Laura made me drink an entire glass of water, which helped settle me a little.
“Is this normal?” I asked.
Laura giggled. “At the rate you’re drinking, yes.”
“So you’re saying I should drink them slower?” I asked, taking another sip. This one was better than the last.
“Probably a good idea.”
“But they’re so good.”
“I know,” Laura said. “But the “drunk” will hit you like a brick, so you might want to slow down.”
“Better yet, lay off the booze for a bit, hon,” Bethany suggested. “You don’t want to puke.”
No, I certainly did not. And I really didn’t like the fact the room moved on its own.
“Ohmigod, I love this song,” Laura squeaked. “Let’s dance.”
Okay, so this is where things got a little hairy for me (well, hairier, because I was still feeling tipsy). I had never danced. Ever. Which was fine because I didn’t feel like I needed to put on a routine or anything, but since I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about music, I couldn’t tell you the name of the song, let alone how to dance to it. I was flying blind as we hit the dance floor and I couldn’t “find the groove” as Laura suggested.
I was sure I looked like a total idiot, but then some guy grabbed my hips with a grin and yelled, “Just move with the music, beautiful.”
I was so shocked by the fact he’d grabbed me, I didn’t react immediately. When my brain finally kicked in that a stranger had his hands on me, I tried to pull away. He held me tighter and ground his pelvis against my bottom.
“It’s all good, gorgeous.”
“Please, let me go,” I yelled.
“Dude, she said let her go,” Bethany snapped.
“Shut the hell up.”
“You shut the hell up,” she bellowed, and shoved the guy.
“Bitch!”
“Hey, don’t call her a bitch,” Laura growled.
Before the man could react, he was dragged back by his collar and shoved to the ground. “The ladies don’t want to dance with you, which means you leave ’em alone.”
I frowned. “Reese?”
He grinned up at me. “Hey, Sadie.”
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Business. I’m just gonna take care of this guy,” he said, and dragged him out of the club without answering my question.
“Holy shit,” Bethany rasped. “Do you know him?”
“Sort of, I guess.” I shrugged. “He’s a friend of Ryder’s... or associate or something.”
“He’s smokin’ hot!” Laura said, as she took my arm and walked toward the table.
“I’m not sure what he’s doing here,” I said.
“Doesn’t Ryder own a bar?” Bethany asked.
I nodded.
Laura smiled. “Maybe this Reese guy works at a bunch of different places.”
“You could be right.” That was actually a possibility, so I nodded again. “
Kind of a small world though, huh?”
As Bethany and Laura talked around me, my thoughts turned to Ryder. He hadn’t called me all week and, because I was feeling irritated by that, I didn’t call him, which meant I was missing him. My friends (and the alcohol) were helping me take my mind off him, but the second I saw Reese, that all changed.
A pair of snapping fingers appeared in front of my eyes and Laura said in a sing-song voice, “Earth to Sadie.”
“Huh? Sorry,” I said. “What did I miss?”
“I think a better question is what did we miss?” Bethany countered.
I sighed. “Nothing.”
Laura shook her head. “This has something to do with Ryder.”
“Why would it have something to do with Ryder?” I sipped my water in an effort to appear neutral.
Bethany gasped. “You like him!”
“What?”
“I want details.”
“There aren’t any,” I said.
“They went on a date on Tuesday and he hasn’t called her,” Laura said.
“Laura!” I snapped.
“What?” She shrugged. “We’re here for support. It’s why you have friends in the first place.”
Well, that was nice. I smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now, spill,” Bethany demanded.
* * *
Ryder
Anxious and sleep-deprived, I paced the floor of my office, wondering what to do next. Savannah had been a bust. Scottie’s ex had been moved by some FBI hotshots who’d basically taken over the investigation and refused to tell me anything. Cam had leaked me enough information to frustrate the hell out of me, but there was nothing else I could do. I had returned to Portland late last night and had barely slept a wink since.
As happened a lot of late, my gaze landed on the photo sitting on my desk. It was of me and Scottie the day she’d had her braces removed. Even at sixteen, she’d looked so young. Reese (begrudgingly) had taken the picture at Scottie’s request and it was one of my favorites.
“I’m gonna find you, baby girl. I promise,” I whispered, just as my phone rang. It was Reese. “Trouble?” I asked.
Reese chuckled. “Define trouble.”
“Fuck! How bad?”
“Some asshat grinding up on her, but it’s cool. I dealt with him.”
I ran a hand through his hair. “Is she okay?”
Ryder (Sinners and Saints, #1) Page 4
