Black Light: Rescued

by Livia Grant

  He couldn't even imagine the nightmares Axe saw when he closed his eyes at night. He'd spent the first year of her disappearance focused solely on finding her. Calling in every favor. Spending every dollar he and Marielle had.

  As his wife's hope died, he'd had to carry the faith for both of them until she'd been killed just over a year ago in a single car accident. Ryder'd read the news story online. 'A tragic accident' the reporter had said. 'Another sad blow for a family already under siege.'

  But Ryder suspected the truth was Marielle couldn't live with the nightmare of not knowing where her only child was any longer. Not knowing if some pervert was hurting her. Helpless to protect her baby.

  He remembered his Aunt Ginny's words as he'd called home from Moscow, looking for an update on the case. "Losing a child to death is the second worst thing a parent can live through. Having your child snatched, stolen away from you and never knowing where they are or what's happening to them... that is the worst pain a human can suffer."

  Looking at the shell of his friend Axe, he knew those words to be true.

  "Listen, I have some time off. In a few weeks, after I wrap up the job I'm on now, why don't I come back. We can go through the evidence again with a fresh eye. I can..."

  "Why now?" Anger bubbled up in his friend's accusation.

  "What do you mean, why now?"

  "I mean, where the hell were you three years ago–when the trail was hot and I needed you the most?"

  "You know damn well where I was. I was in deep cover, in no position to tell the Bratva I needed a few weeks off to fly back to California to help my old friend."

  "Fuck vacation. Fuck the Bratva." Axe threw the empty beer bottle against the wall in his anger, punching a hole through the drywall.

  The men had never spoken about the nightmare Axe and his family lived through. On one level, Axe's anger was understandable, yet it still caught Ryder off guard.

  He got defensive. "What did you want me to do? Throw away my career? Burn myself and years of Russian language studies. Throw away the dozens of unspeakable tests I had to pass to get into their inner circle?"

  "Yes! That's exactly what I expected from my brother." He spat the final word as if it were a curse.

  Ryder was floored. Truly taken aback. Had it really been so selfish of him to stay in Russia? He'd sent over ten grand to the online fund setup to collect donations to help fund bringing Mia home safely. Sitting in that dingy living room, facing the shell of Axel Alvarez, he realized the gravity of his mistake.

  That he'd come here to ask for Axe's help with Khloe's case as if nothing had happened since the last time they'd seen each other was unforgivable. He sat stunned, unsure what to say–how to recover from his error.

  For a moment, he allowed himself to feel sorry for himself. What a fucking emotional rollercoaster week he'd had. First burning years of work, yet miraculously rescuing the Marshall women and saving Chip Marshall from the nightmare Axel was going through times three.

  Second, reconnecting with a woman he had no right to, realizing too late that he'd only hurt her worse than he already had when it was time to leave. The irony was, he knew it was going to devastate him, too.

  Now, walking in on a time bomb he'd been too selfish to detect.

  Ryder leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as he hung his head in his hands, trying to think his way out of the shitshow he'd backed himself into. He forced deep breaths until he could think clearly again, a technique that had served him well undercover.

  He sensed Axe moving around the room and finally looked up when a cold bottle of beer was shoved in his line of sight. He reached to take it, thankful for anything that might help numb the emotions.

  Axe had taken a seat again, looking pensive as he swigged his own beer.

  Their joint "I'm sorry," was simultaneous.

  His friend smiled. "Holy shit. Who are you and what did you do with Ryder?"

  "Fuck you," he quipped, still off base.

  "Touché." Another swig, before he added. "Seriously, man. You've never been one to apologize."

  Their eyes met as Ryder contemplated his words. "Yeah, well I've never fucked up before."

  Axe smiled a sad smile. "Oh you fucked up plenty. You just never would admit it, you hard-headed bastard."

  Yep, that sounded about right. "I can't help it I'm never wrong." Ryder chuckled.

  They sat in an awkward silence, drinking beer and remembering the past. Ryder was about to stand to leave, when Axe pressed him for details.

  "So why don't you tell me why you're here."

  "It's not important. Forget..."

  "Hey, a job's a job. As you can see, I need to bump up my income if I hope to maintain this lavish lifestyle." His friend was making fun, but neither man laughed.

  "Like you said, you don't do high profile."

  "Listen, asshole. Do you want my help or not?"

  The spark was back in Axe's eyes. That's when Ryder realized he might be doing his friend as much of a favor by possibly getting him excited about an investigation again as Axe would be doing helping him nail Khloe's stalker. It was clear the man was going through the motions of life, no longer having purpose. Maybe working a case together would jumpstart his rejoining society.

  "Promise you won't laugh."

  "I promise no such thing, although, to be fair, I don't do a lot of laughing these days, so you're probably safe."

  Ryder's pulse went up, about to say words he never thought he'd say out loud. "I think I'm falling in love."

  The bark of Axe's laughter was like music to his ears, despite the fact it came at his own expense.

  "Only you could make it sound like it was a death sentence."

  Ryder didn't laugh. "Yeah, well, considering what I do for a living, it might be one for her."

  That brought the humor out of his friend's face. "So what's really going on? This doesn't seem like the kind of case most men would hire a PI for. She cheating on your ass or something?"

  Oh how he wished life with Khloe Monroe could be that simple. "We met in D.C. in February. Had one spectacular night at a club together before I shipped out, back to Moscow. I should have fucking left it alone, but when I got burned, I got sucked back in. Now I find out I have a hit on my head, and I'm putting her in danger by being in her life."

  "No offense, brother, but Russian hitmen are a bit out of my league these days. I think I'd better walk before I run again."

  "I don't need help with the Volkovs. I'll have to handle that on my own."

  "Volkov... Why does that name sound familiar?"

  There was no way he was disclosing top-secret details. He'd already said too much. "Focus. I don't need help with them. She's a public figure, and she's been harassed by a stalker for a few months. It started with some relatively harmless emails, but has escalated to mailed threats and now two break-ins into her personal space. I've promised her no one will get to her, but now I'm not so sure I'm not making things worse by being on her detail."

  "Detail? You make it sound like she's a government bigwig."

  "Try Hollywood bigwig."

  Axe's eyes widened as he whistled a surprise whistle. "Landed yourself a starlet, eh? You always did go for the elegant ones. Don't think I don't know your secret."

  "What secret is that?" Ryder was genuinely surprised at his friend's assertion, although not denying it.

  "You love turning women from elegant to needy slut. It's all part of the power games you like to play."

  "You can stop psychoanalyzing me now."

  "Hit a bit close to home?"

  More like a bullseye. "Like I said, fuck off."

  "Does your mystery woman have a name?"

  Ryder hesitated. Saying her name out loud would make it all seem more real. Finally, he surrendered, softly answering "Khloe Monroe."

  Axe's whistle was louder this time. "Holy shit, you go big when you decide to jump in."

  "It was supposed to be one fun night. No strings. No future."


  "I've heard that before. Then I got the call in Afghanistan that Marielle was pregnant. Things got serious pretty quick."

  Ryder had been with him the night he'd gotten that call. He'd seen the sheer terror on Axe's face at the thought of being responsible for a wife and child. Now, all these years later, look how fucked up that had turned out. He had no interest in following in Axe's footsteps. It was too hard, caring so much for someone that it hurt. It distracted him when he needed to focus. It fucking hurt just thinking of being without her again.

  I'm so fucked.

  "Talk to me about the threats."

  He was almost relieved to have something to take his mind off hurting Khloe. Instead of talking, Ryder reached down for the duffel he'd thrown down next to his chair and pulled out his encrypted laptop. "You still have the same email?"

  "Yeah."

  "Okay, I'm sending all of the info I have to your account."

  The men spent the next half-hour looking through the evidence, talking through the motives and suspects on Ryder's short-list of suspects. With each minute, Ryder grew more tense, the threats becoming more real. Ironically, Axe seemed to almost relax, relieved to have something to focus on other than his family's misfortune.

  "Okay, let me do my thing on the computer forensics. I have a new hacker program that's great at sniffing out electronic footprints. Make sure I have your number. I'll give you a call when I've got something."

  "Thanks, man. I owe you one. We're leaving for D.C. tomorrow sometime for some big red carpet event on Sunday afternoon. Obviously, I won't be attending, at least not on the carpet. I'll probably stay concealed, watching the crowd. The sooner we track down the asshole responsible, the sooner..."

  He let the sentence die, unwilling to say it. He was already on the train. Like it or not, he was barreling down the track towards his exit. He couldn't stop it. All he could do was make sure he'd leave her safe and sound for when he was gone.

  Chapter 18

  The hot shower felt spectacular. She'd been under the water so long, her fingers were starting to prune. Khloe tilted her head back, letting the spray wash out the deep conditioner. Once she'd rinsed thoroughly, she reluctantly turned off the water and grabbed the bath towel.

  She avoided her reflection in the mirror as she reached for her satin loungewear and robe, afraid to glimpse her own body. She burned with shame remembering being caught purging earlier that afternoon. She'd brushed her teeth three times since then, but she still felt dirty.

  Khloe knew the cycle well. She was in her 'I'll never do that again' phase, swearing to herself after the shameful expel that she would control it the next time. By tomorrow, that promise will have faded as panic over her weight returned, overshadowing guilt with fear. She'd become so good at starving herself that she rarely had to push into where she'd gone today–euphoria while eating followed by uncontrollable regret.

  Rinse and repeat.

  She took a seat on the stool near the counter, picking up one beauty cream after another until she'd lathered herself with the full array of expensive products she used to fend off wrinkles and age spots. Tempted to brush her teeth one more time, she realized she was stalling, hiding in the bathroom to avoid eating. To avoid Trevor's knowing glares as he made it very clear how he felt about Ryder calling all the shots.

  But mostly to avoid Ryder himself.

  They'd only been together again for such a short time, yet in some ways, she couldn't remember what life was like without him there. That was how larger than life he was, sweeping her off her feet, not unlike back in February. She closed her eyes, remembering snippets of their time together, trying to understand the complexity that was Ryder Helms.

  The strict structure of the Valentine Roulette game had kept their BDSM activities at Black Light focused only on sex. It had given her a false sense of understanding of what made the sexy dominant tick.

  But outside of Black Light, Ryder was much less predicable. Surprisingly warm and loving one minute, dominant predator the next. But it was the Ryder in between those extremes that confused her the most. His need to protect her, yet refusal to be seen with her. His early jealousy and suspicion of Trevor quickly turning into a blanket trust, almost as if he were forging a partnership with her long-time guard.

  Something fishy was going on, and Khloe was determined to figure out what it was.

  The smell of pasta greeted her as she arrived in the open great room of the cabin. Ryder was back from his errand, moving effortlessly through the kitchen as if he'd studied in culinary school. Trevor sat on a stool opposite the stovetop. The men were deep in conversation, talking too softly for her to hear what was said.

  It was the ring of her cell phone in the pocket of her robe that drew the men's attention to her arrival. Two pairs of eyes glanced up, as she pulled her phone from her pocket, sending the call to voicemail.

  She didn't need to look at caller ID to know who was calling. She'd given her parents their own distinctive ring tone, Such a Disappointment, her theme song with them. She put the phone back into her pocket as she walked slowly to the kitchen.

  Her eyes fell on the crusty Italian bread, butter and olive oil. The appearance of her favorite foods had her moving back into her temptation phase a bit early. By the smell of things, an array of her favorite pasta dishes awaited her, too. She could feel the men's stare as they waited for her reaction.

  Ryder spoke first. "Dinner is almost ready, baby. I hope you're hungry."

  She scoffed as she took the seat next to where Ryder was standing. "Being hungry is never my problem." She paused, before adding, "It's the choking it down and keeping it there I struggle with."

  "Well then, we'll have to take it one bite at a time, won't we."

  Her phone rang again. She pulled it out, this time turning it off completely.

  "Who was that? Is someone harassing you?" Ryder's concern was touching.

  "Harassing, no. In fact, quite the opposite."

  He didn't like her cryptic answer. When she didn't expound, the traitor, Trevor, answered for her. "That's her parents' ring tone."

  She gave him the evil eye for mentioning them.

  Ryder's eyes widened. "Why is that a bad thing? I bet they're worried about you."

  "I wouldn't know. We barely speak. I was supposed to have dinner with them in New York last week. It was the only good thing that came out of the break-in. I had a legitimate reason to cancel on them."

  Ryder looked distressed at the news, which struck her as funny considering how he'd been avoiding seeing his own father who, as best as she could tell, was only a few miles away from him at the moment.

  "Far be it from me to give advice on parent-child relationships, but since they rarely call, don't you think they might have something important to say if they phone again?"

  "Oh I know what they'll have to say. I have it memorized. I'm immoral, chasing fame instead of religion. Then they'd remind me that my brother Milak would be a priest by now. He was the perfect child in their eyes. They never forget to remind me how much they wish he were alive. Oh, they leave off the part about wishing it had been me instead of Milak in the car that night, but I know. I can hear it loud and clear."

  She heard the bitterness in her voice, recognizing her normal shrew-like tone she always got when she spoke of her parents. In many ways, she wished they would just cut her out of their life completely. That would be easier to take than this hot and cold savior routine they insisted on putting her through randomly, fucking with her mojo.

  An awkward silence fell while she watched Ryder strain the cooked pasta and bring the hot dish to the island counter table where small salads and the bread already waited. She was glad to be seated as her heart rate raced watching Ryder putting a portion of each type of food on the plate in front of her. She felt lightheaded, almost faint in her panic. Her brain knew he'd given her small portions, yet for a woman who normally ate less than half that amount of calories in an entire day, the serving looked
enormous.

  Maybe I'll go for a couple miles run later to work this all off.

  That was her other trick. Exercising until exhaustion.

  "Give me your phone." His request surprised her. She'd expected him to lay down the law about how much she'd have to eat. She handed over the smartphone and watched him turn it on before setting it aside.

  His next order came seconds later. "Pick up your fork. Stab the lettuce and take a bite of salad."

  They may be seated at the dinner table, but Ryder was using the same stern tone of voice as he had barked his orders to her on the first night they met. That deep, yummy tone that went straight to her girlie parts. It surprised her that it didn't seem to matter what words he uttered, only that he used that melting hot dominance.

  The first bite of salad tasted good. Almost as if he'd known, he hadn't drowned the veggies in heavy dressings, making it easier for her to justify. The men tore into their much bigger portions as she slowly chewed and swallowed, determined to eat slow enough to time the end of her salad with the end of their meal.

  As if he knew her trick, Ryder slowed his bites, finally putting down his own fork to watch her intently. When her salad was gone, she wanted to stop. Had Ryder Helms not been there, she would have.

  "Now take a bite of pasta and sauce."

  This would be harder. The food was heavier, full of unwanted calories. The carbs would make her feel bloated. She resisted pushing away from the table, instead filling her fork with the tiniest bit of food she could and still call it a bite. Her hand trembled as she raised the pasta to her lips, finally opening and savoring the heavenly taste on her tongue.

  She closed her eyes, determined to enjoy the flavor as much as she could before panic prevented the next bite.

  The renewed sound of her phone ringing broke the silence.

  "Answer it and see what they have to say," Ryder asserted, back to giving orders.