Even saying the words hurt. A.J. had refused all contact after that first disastrous meeting. They hadn’t seen him, hadn’t talked to him, not once since the world started falling apart. Every foul thing the media said about him, he’d had to hear alone, without his lovers there to support him. It killed Ryder, every single time he thought about it. And now A.J. was gone?
“I called to check on him. They said he’d been released. Into his mother’s care.”
Lyss frowned. “He said his mom lived in El Paso.”
“She does,” Sidri confirmed. “She flew in to see him. She took him home with her. He’s gone, guys. I’m so sorry, but he’s gone. His mother told the hospital that she would take care of him, and to please inform his so-called friends that he was leaving Houston and would not be returning. She didn’t leave a phone number or address. No contact information of any kind. I’m sorry. Truly, truly sorry.”
It took Ryder several moments to find his voice. “So…that’s it, then.”
Lyss looked at him, eyes mournful. “We can try to find him…”
Ryder made a slashing motion with his hand. “No. He wants to be gone. He said it’s over. We have to respect his wishes, Lyss. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Sidri said again.
“Thanks, Sid,” Ryder replied, hoping he didn’t sound as devastated as he felt, “for letting us know.”
And that…was that.
A.J. was gone. And there was nothing they could do to get him back. Both of them tried to pretend it didn’t matter, that A.J.’s choice didn’t hurt them. But at night, when they were alone together, they held each other…and cried.
He and Lyss tried to pick up the broken pieces of their lives. The news reports eventually died down. Other stories made the headlines, and people eventually forgot about A.J. and his poor, dead son. BDSM as a lifestyle choice did come under fire for a while afterward, but the community banded together, eventually bringing the mudslinging to a halt. That was their only victory.
Ryder got the news that his suspension was permanent—he’d been expecting it, but it still hurt—and started looking for another job. Lyss put aside her dream of becoming the best nurse on the planet and started looking for another career as well. Their friends tried to help, but it was bittersweet.
Without A.J., it all felt…hollow. Like they were just going through the motions.
Eventually, he asked Sidri if he and Lyss could make use of their beach house down in Galveston. The property was rarely used, and he and Lyss could save a little money while they were both looking for jobs. They moved in, and sequestered themselves from the world.
Months passed.
Ryder eventually got a job—at an exclusive BDSM club, as the head of security. He missed Club S, but couldn’t bring himself to go back there. Too many memories of A.J. inside those walls. So he went to work, collected his paycheck, and came home to his wife, all the while pretending it was more than enough to fulfill him.
Lyss managed to do a little better. She went back to school, and was working on a degree in child psychology. Her ultimate goal was to become a counselor for Street Smartz, so she could continue the good work of that stellar organization. She seemed happy with her choice, if not completely fulfilled. Ryder tried to convince himself it was enough.
For both of them, it had to be enough.
Chapter 25
Six Months Later
“Good morning, beautiful,” Ryder greeted, pausing to kiss the top of her head as he passed her on his way into the kitchen. “Well, my morning, anyway. Your afternoon.”
“Lucky me,” she teased, giving him a wink over the top of her laptop. “I get saddled with a man who sleeps until four in the afternoon. Whatever will I do with myself until he finally manages to drag himself out of bed?”
Ryder gave her a smile as he poured a cup of coffee, then wandered back over to the dining room table, where Lyss had set up her schoolwork. She was currently taking online classes, mostly so they didn’t need to have two vehicles. Her days were now spent poring over psychology textbooks and sending text messages back and forth with her professors, all in the hopes of earning her degree in child psychology. Since Ryder’s income was their only source of funds right now, it just made sense for her to stay at home.
Ryder seated himself next to her, letting his knee press against her thigh. “Anything exciting going on today? Don’t you have an exam coming up, or something?”
She nodded, her attention back on the computer screen. “Next week. Counts as one fifth of my grade. God, I hope I pass.”
“You will,” he assured her confidently. “You always do great, beautiful. Never doubt it for a second.”
She beamed at him, and he couldn’t resist leaning in for a sweet kiss. Just as he sat back with a contented sigh, his phone started buzzing again. Ryder pulled it from his back pocket and frowned at the screen.
“Same damn number,” he growled, scowling now. “They keep calling me. Some weird area code. We don’t have any debt collectors after us, do we? ‘Cause that’s the only thing I can think of for some random number to keep calling me ten times a day.”
“Maybe you should just answer it,” Lyss advised, giving him a sideways look. “Ever thought of that?”
Ryder snorted. “No. I don’t want to talk to anyone I don’t know.”
She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Just answer it, Tex. Can’t hurt.”
“Fine, fine.” He thumbed the button and put the phone to his ear. “What is it?”
There was a long hesitation before a feminine voice with an extremely thick Spanish accent said, “Am I speaking to a Mr. Ryder Saint Claire?” The way she said it sounded like “Meester Rye-eder Zay-ent Clair-ee.”
Ryder frowned at Lyss as he spoke into the phone. “Uh, yeah, I guess. I’m Ryder St. Claire. Who is this?”
The woman took a deep breath. “T’ank God you answer, Mr. St. Claire. I try calling you for weeks now. T’ank God you answer now.”
Ryder put the phone on speaker and put it on the table so Lyss could hear, too. “Um, ma’am, is there something I can help you with?”
“Jes,” she said, sounding relieved. “My name is Lupe Johannes. I believe you know my son. Andre.”
Ryder’s insides froze, as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. He and Lyss stared at each other for a long, breathless moment.
“Uh…yeah. We…know A.J. Uh…h-how…”
“I get your number from his phone,” she interrupted. “I am his mother. I come get him from Houston months ago. You know, jes?”
“Jes…I mean, yes,” Ryder said, clearing his throat.
“Good. Good. When I take him home, I t’ink he get better. I t’ink he need his mother. But…I t’ink now, I was wrong. Somet’ing very bad is happening to my son. Please, you must help. He need you.”
There was sandpaper coating Ryder’s throat. “He…does? He…said that?”
Lupe hesitated. “Not…in so many words, no. But…he say your name. At night. When he sleeping. He say your name, over and over again. And, he say another name. Sound like…list? Not a name I know before. But he say names, over and over again. All the time, when he sleeping. And…I know he need help. My son…he is very sick. He cry…all the time. He drink…all the time. I t’ink…he try to kill himself. I am afraid he will drown his sorrow in the bottom of the bottle, Mr. St. Claire. I am afraid for him. Very, very afraid.”
Ryder was on his feet without any memory of standing up. Lyss stood beside him, and both of them were holding Ryder’s phone in a white-knuckled grip. “Where are you? Where is A.J.? Can we come see him?” Lyss pleaded.
“Jes, please come see him,” Lupe said, sounding ecstatic. “He need you. I send you our address. Please, please come. Soon. My son…he is killing himself. And, I t’ink you will help to save him. Please, Mr. St. Claire. Please, come help my son.”
Lyss had already pulled away, her cell phone in her hand. Ryd
er heard her say, “Tatum, you know I hate asking, but we need your help…”
Ryder tried to calm his racing heart as he spoke to A.J.’s mother. “We’ll be on the first plane out.”
“T’ank you,” she said fervently. “Please. You come soon.”
“We’ll be there. And thanks, Ms. Johannes. For calling us.”
Then he hung up and waited for Lyss to finish talking to her cousin. “All set?”
She nodded. “Plane tickets being sent to my email as we speak. Come on, let’s pack.”
She started to turn away, but Ryder grabbed her arm and pulled her back. When she frowned up at him, he smoothed the hair from her forehead and heaved a sigh. “Lyss, are you sure this is…the best thing for us?”
Her frown turned into a menacing scowl. “What are you talking about?”
“We’ve…moved on,” he said, hating himself. “We let him go, remember? Is this really the best thing? Letting A.J. back into our lives? What if he…doesn’t want us back?”
Lyss reached up and cupped Ryder’s jaw, her expression earnest—and deadly serious. “Ryder, baby, I love you with everything in me. Always have. But A.J. is part of my heart, too. Just like he’s part of yours. Yes, we let him go. It was what he wanted at the time, and at the time, we thought we were doing the right thing. But if you think for one second I’m going to let a man I love continue to suffer without my help, you’d better think again. Now, are you coming to El Paso with me, or not?”
His grin had been growing throughout her speech. When she finally wound down, Ryder kissed her hungrily, then pressed his forehead against hers. “I love you, Mrs. St. Claire.”
“I love you, too, Mr. St. Claire,” she said with a laugh. “Now, let’s go get our man.”
* * * *
Ryder’s knee had been going like a jackrabbit all through the plane flight, and now he was doing it in the taxi taking them from the airport to A.J.’s mother’s home. Fortunately, the place was really close to the airport, on a street named Parkland next to Lone Star Golf Club. At any other time, he would have been taking note of the scenery—he’d never been to El Paso before—but at the moment, all he wanted was for the driver to go just a little faster.
Lyss squeezed his fingers, her hand clasped tightly in his lap. “It will be fine,” she said for the umpteenth time.
Ryder could only nod, unwilling to share his insecurity with her right now. For all they knew, this whole trip would be for nothing. A.J. might throw them out on their asses, making this endeavor a complete waste of time and money. But they were already here, for better or worse, and this time Ryder wasn’t giving up without a fight.
I never should have let him go the first time. I let my guilt, my sorrow, cloud my reasoning. I knew it then, but I convinced myself it wouldn’t matter, that A.J. would be better off, and that the pain would fade…eventually. But it didn’t. The A.J.-shaped hole in my heart is still there. And I know it’s still there for Lyss. We need him back. One way or another, we’re bringing him back with us.
Determined now, Ryder straightened in his seat and tried to look around. The cab had finally turned onto Parkland Street, plunging them into the middle of upper-class suburbia. Unlike Houston, where thick grass and winding bayous were the norm, El Paso favored desert landscaping. White rocks and pink gravel filled in the medians, and lawns were mostly desert stone and water-conserving plants. Agave, aloe, and cactus ruled the day, along with a few yucca plants—looking like some kindergartener’s art project gone horribly wrong—thrown in for oddity’s sake. Hard to believe they were still in Texas, considering how different the landscape was here compared to the coast.
Finally, the cab pulled into a circle drive in front of a large one-story house, made out to look like a Spanish villa, complete with yellow-painted stucco and arched windows and doorways. A huge aloe vera plant sat in the center of the white-stone yard, and a pair of spiny candlewood trees framed the front door. Ryder handed Lyss out of the cab, paid the driver, and took hold of their rolling suitcase. Sharing a look, they both squared their shoulders and went to ring the doorbell.
The door opened before they could reach it. An Hispanic woman in her late fifties stood there, her gray-streaked hair caught up in a bun at the back of her head. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her features suffused with the timeless, ageless grace of an old-fashioned movie star. Her dark brown eyes swept over Ryder and Lyss, obviously taking in Ryder’s tattoos—he’d worn a tank top, so his half-sleeves were on display—and Lyss’s curvaceous good looks. Then she smiled broadly, gesturing for them to come inside.
“Come, come,” she said. “I am Lupe Johannes. My son is here. Come, come.”
Steeling himself, Ryder followed Lyss into a well-appointed living room decorated with a Southwestern theme, with Native American artwork on the walls and hand-knotted throw rugs covering the dark-wood floors. Kina dolls decorated the mantel over a small fireplace, and the furniture looked to have been made from recycled wood. It was beautiful, to be sure, but Ryder stopped paying attention once he realized A.J. wasn’t in the room.
“Come, I take your bag,” Lupe said, grabbing the suitcase before Ryder could think to stop her. She wheeled it over to a corner, then gestured for them both to take a seat on the sofa. Ryder and Lyss held hands as they obeyed, waiting until Lupe seated herself in an armchair.
“Where’s A.J.?” Ryder began. “Is he okay?”
Lupe sighed, frown lines creasing her forehead as she looked back and forth between them. “He is in his room. He sleeps. The drink, it make him pass out. I not tell him you coming.”
Lyss winced. “How long has this been going on?”
Lupe shrugged. “From the time I bring him home. I t’ink, at first, he stop when he feel better. But…he do not stop. I fear for him. You understand, jes?”
“Yes,” Ryder whispered. “We understand. He went through a lot. And, knowing A.J., he’s decided he can handle it on his own. But he’s not handling it, is he? He’s just getting worse.”
Lupe nodded, expression mournful. “You understand. Good. My son…he is very strong. Like his father, that way. Very strong…up here.” And she pointed to her temple. “But here,” she pointed to her chest, “he is…not so strong. He feel too much…aye, what is American word…guilt. He feel too much guilt. It eats him alive.”
Ryder ventured, “We’ll do what we can for him. Thanks, for calling us. I don’t know if he told you, but…”
“You love him,” Lupe said quietly. Her smile was soft, almost nostalgic. “Both of you love him. And my son…he love you. He t’ink I not know. He t’ink I not approve. He is wrong. Love is…” She pressed a balled fist to her heart. “Everyt’ing. Precioso. It is…life.”
Tears were brimming in Lyss’s eyes. “Thank you, Ms. Johannes. For understanding.”
“You call me Lupe,” she said kindly, rising to her feet. “Family go by first name, jes? You are my son’s family, now. I leave you to speak to him. He not need his mother here…for what may come after.” And she gave them a saucy wink, damn near making Ryder blush.
He got to his feet and held out a hand, which she shook delicately. “We’ll do our best to take care of him, Ms…Lupe. I promise.”
“This I know,” she said, gathering up her purse from a table near the door. She met Ryder’s eyes, a soft smile on her face. “He dream of you. He call for you. Both of you. You will heal him. Make him strong again. Then my son will feel whole once more. This I know.”
And she quietly left the house, without a backward glance.
Ryder and Lyss stood in the living room, staring after the tiny Colombian woman with mutual bemused expressions. Then Ryder walked over to Lyss and wrapped both hands around her waist, drawing her in close.
“This is going to hurt, you know that, right?”
“The best fights always do,” she told him, resting her cheek against his chest. “But it’s a fight worth having. He belongs to us, Ryder. He always will. We’re not letting him go
this time. No matter how much it hurts, this fight is worth it. We’re a couple of saints, aren’t we?” She gave him a tiny smile. “Says so in our last name. Well, saints are supposed to rescue sinners, are they not? And A.J. believes he’s a sinner right now. So, let’s go rescue our sinner, baby. It’s high time he came into the light, instead of wallowing in the darkness.”
Ryder held her tight for a moment longer, then pulled back with a deep, calming breath. “All right, Ms. Saint. Let’s go find A.J.”
Hand-in-hand, they made their way toward the back hallway, where several closed doors awaited them. The first opened on an empty bedroom—probably Lupe’s, given the flowery bedspread. Ryder closed that door and moved to the next, cursing when he found a bathroom. He and Lyss moved down to the last door, exchanging one last look before Ryder gripped the knob and slowly pushed it open.
And walked straight into hell.
The odor of sweat, booze, and unwashed bodies permeated the air. A.J.’s room was a dark cave, the windows covered by light-blocking curtains. Ryder took two steps into the room and immediately kicked over an empty glass bottle that went rolling and clinking across the floor until it hit another group of bottles and knocked them over like bowling pins. Cursing, Ryder felt along the wall until he found a light switch, but apparently it didn’t work. The room remained dark but for the light spilling in from the open doorway.
“Fuck this shit,” Ryder snarled, marching over to the window he could just make out on the left-hand side of the room. He managed to trip over a pile of clothes and knock down several more bottles before he finally made it to the wall. Growling audibly, he took hold of the heavy curtains and ripped the entire thing down.
Light flooded the room, revealing a sad mess so unlike anything they’d ever seen from A.J., it nearly broke Ryder’s heart. Bottles and cans lined the dresser along one wall, more of them piled in corners and covering every other available surface. The room stank to high heaven, mildew and mold along with booze and sweat. Dirty clothes were piled so high, it took him a moment to even locate the bed. Just as his eyes passed over it, something let out a crusty, rusty groan and shifted.
Saints United [For Love of Authority 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 31
