by Harlow Stone
“When exactly do you need to be in Chicago? And when do you plan to leave here?”
He reaches out and tucks some stray strands that escaped my birds nest behind my ear.
“Would like to be there and back as soon as possible. Ultimately I’d like to leave tomorrow for the drive home, which means I could be finished in Chicago by Tuesday. But if you still need me here, then I can wait a few more days.”
God, this man treats me better than I deserve.
“I need to find someone to take over the lease on this place. Not that I care if it sits empty, but the pipes are older than the cottage and I don’t think it would do it well to sit here unattended for the next nine months.”
Ryder seems lost in thought for a moment before he replies.
“That mean you’re coming home with me, beautiful?”
I know that pleases him, but I cannot and will not make this move solely for him. I miss the cottage style home, and I know my girl Norma misses it there too.
“It means I’m going back to my little abode in North Carolina, Ryder. I won’t lie to you and say that it’s me coming home with you. Not to be a bitch, but I’m doing this for me first. You may not understand that right now, but from almost a year ago until now, I’ve realized that this life is about me. Not anybody else. I need me, and I need to get my shit together. If you want to be included in that, right on. But if it gets to be too much, you let me know before we head any deeper into whatever it is we have going on here.”
A strong hand wraps around the back of my neck and pulls my face towards his. Wet lips meet mine and for the moment I’m lost. He pulls back a little and rests his forehead against mine.
“It won’t be too much. And you are not ‘too much,’ beautiful. This is going to work; I’ll prove it to you. But in order for me to do that you need to knock down some of those walls. You got so much shit going on in your head and you need to share that with me. I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on, babe.”
“I know you want to help, Ryder, and I appreciate it. But you have to understand that I’ve been doing this on my own for a long time. At this point, it’s all I know.”
My eyes and tone are both sincere. He needs to understand that it’s not so much that I don’t want his help, or need it. I just have a hard time accepting it.
“I’m working on it though Ryder, I am. But just like everything else in my life, it takes time.”
His dark eyes roam my face before he settles his lips on my forehead.
“I know babe, appreciate that. Speaking of which, I don’t want to push you too soon, but I’d like to sit down with you and go over your case file. More specifically, what’s missing from it. If that shit’s tough for you to look at then leave it with me. Either way babe, I need all the facts I can get so that we can figure this out.”
If I show him the rest, that means the photos too. That means revealing the old me to him, the woman with a different face and long blonde hair down to my ass. It means showing him the girl that used to have shining green eyes and a bright smile on her pale face.
“I’ll think about it while you’re gone handsome, I’m not ready to dive into that shit right now.”
Ryder pulls me close beside him so we’re both reclining on the couch, my head on his shoulder and his arm around my back.
“I can work with that.”
He places a kiss in my hair before continuing.
“You going to the gym tonight?”
“Yes. I haven’t missed a session since I started, and I won’t until I leave. Need to talk to Brock anyway, so two birds with one stone.”
“I’ll come with you. I normally work with the guys on base and get some ring time in or at least a jog.”
I know he’s referencing the fact that since he started hunting me down, he put his physical health on the back burner. He continues to rub his hand up and down my back, consoling me in the only way he knows how to at the moment.
“That okay with you?”
“Yes, that’s fine. In the meantime, I have ten bags worth of clothing you have to pack to take with you on your drive tomorrow.”
His deep whiskey laugh greets my ears.
“I’ll pack the whole goddamn house if that’s what you need babe, I just don’t think it’ll all fit in my truck.”
I don’t want anything else here. It’s all cheap shit, aside from my mattress.
“Well, no time like the present. You can pack handsome, and I’ll find something to eat for lunch.”
I pull myself out of his embrace. Not because I want to, but because I need to keep moving before my morbid thoughts takeover and nothing gets done. I don’t tell him that, but I suspect he knows.
Who am I kidding? Of course he knows.
Ryder Callaghan is the most intelligent man I’ve ever met, and possibly the only one who has ever read me like a book. I can hide behind my sunglasses, and dress in my armor, but at the end of the day I have a feeling this man knows me better than I know myself.
Sometimes that scares me more than my impending death.
Chapter Two
“Fuck babe, your man can fight.”
He’s not joking.
I’ve been trying to concentrate on my training with Brock, but now we’re both too distracted with watching Ryder take down opponent number three in the ring.
“The man is a machine,” Brock says.
He doesn’t need to tell me. I already had that figured out when I slept with him a few nights ago.
Twice.
We also made love which was equally satisfying and a memory I’ll never forget.
After the last few days of celibacy, I’m thinking I’ll see just how much more energy he has when we get home.
“You listenin’ to me Elle?”
“Huh?”
His deep chuckle washes over me.
“I said, I can see why he’s so sought after for work. The man’s like a high priced body guard. Vinny in there is one of my best guys, and he can barely get a punch in.”
High priced body guard? I knew there was a reason not asking questions would one day leave me confused.
Ryder gave me a short description of what he does a few months ago, but I assumed it was more like he delegated jobs to his men who carried out the work. When he mentioned working for political parties and a few hostage rescues, I pictured his men using their K9 abilities to sniff out potential bomb threats, or barreling into a house on a hostage rescue carrying AK-47s, shooting up the bad guys.
Maybe I watch too much television.
“Pardon?” I ask.
It’s all I can manage. Clearly Brock knows more about Ryder’s work than I do.
“Babe, not sure how much you two talk, but that man could’ve been a secret service agent if he wanted to. When Denny left me to work with his company, it wasn’t just because he wanted to leave. It was because of the opportunity.
“Callaghan Security has contracts with some very influential people babe. I’m not talking celebrities, I’m talking governors. Word has it he’s kept his business small because he doesn’t want to be shipped off all over the country for months on end. He chooses what contracts to take, and how many men are needed with each one. High security babe, some of the best.”
This is news to me. Not that I didn’t think Ryder was capable of such work. I just didn’t think that he was so.....important?
“He only has twelve men that work for him, Brock.”
“Like I said, chooses his contracts and stays small Elle. Denny was lucky to get a job with him.”
Well, who knew? My neighbor who doesn’t even live in a gigantic flashy house and wears Levi’s has protected some of the Country’s most influential people. He seems far too reserved and laid back for someone with that reputation. Ryder’s deep voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“You want a round, beautiful?”
I look up to see that cocky shit eatin’ grin on Ryder’s face as he stands with his arms rested on the ro
pes, sweat dripping down his bare chest.
“Nah, I already paid Brock to kick my ass. Might as well get my money’s worth.”
Brock’s laugh pulls my attention back to him.
“Ready to get your ass kicked then babe?”
I turn to face the kind man that has taught me so much these past few months.
“Actually, I need to talk to you for a minute first.”
Brock nods his head and takes a seat on the bench beside the mats. I follow suit. He takes a long swig of his water before resting his elbows on his knees.
“I know what you’re going to say, babe. You’re going back to wherever it is you showed up here from, and you’re going back with him.”
Jesus, when did I become so transparent?
This guy has been the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in a long time. Maybe even my best friend, seeing as he’s taught me over thirty ways to take down an attacker, and the proper way to throw a right hook.
“Not going to lie and say I won’t miss you around here Elle, because I will. I’ll miss your payments for almost six hours’ worth of private classes every week too.”
I can’t help but give a small laugh. These classes weren’t through the roof, but they weren’t exactly cheap either.
“What I’m most concerned about though babe, is you. I know enough to sense that you’ve been through some shit. I’m not going to tell you how to live your life Elle, all I’m going to ask is that you keep in touch and let me know how you’re doing. Peace of mind for me babe, it’s the least you can do if you’re not going to pay me anymore.”
This earns him a chuckle from me, and even a small smile. I make a pact to look up at the sky once again when I leave here, to thank my angels in heaven for the wonderful people they have brought into my life.
I take a long hard look at him. His full-tattoo sleeves from wrist to collarbone, his buzzed blonde hair and mass of muscles. It’s the eyes that get me. Baby blues. The man is built like a mastiff, but loves like a puppy.
“I’ll keep in touch Brock. I promise.”
I expect some smartass remark from him, or maybe even a gloved punch to the shoulder. What I don’t expect however is the hug he gives me.
For once, I actually hug him back.
“Make sure you keep it babe.”
I give him a squeeze before I ready myself to let go, but not soon enough before I hear a whiskey gruff voice behind me.
“Time to go, Elle.”
I know my time with Brock is not up yet. Or at least, not what I paid for.
Brock releases me from his hold before addressing Ryder, not aggressively, but enough to get his point across.
“She knows how to get ahold of me if she needs anything. I’m hoping she won’t, and I’m trusting you’re going to be the one to make sure of that.”
Ryder’s eyes get a little harder than they were after he witnessed our goodbye hug, not that he had anything to worry about. I don’t feel that way about Brock.
“I respect the fact that you’re worried about her Brock. I’m also glad she’s had someone look out for her while she was here. But bottom line, she’s my business, not yours. She feels the need to contact you, she will. In the meantime I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen. But again, she’s my business—not yours.”
If there’s one thing I hate (amongst a multitude of other things) it’s when people talk about me as though I’m not in the room. I could let it slip, but if I did I’d lose a part of myself that I worked way too fucking hard to get back.
“How about this fellas, Elle looks after herself. In the meantime, you both can mind your own damn business,” I reply.
I grab my bag off the floor and walk up to Brock, giving him a one armed hug.
“I don’t do goodbyes. So, talk to you soon.”
I give him a quick peck on the cheek before walking out of the building. I’m sure Ryder is still taking the gloves and tape off his hands. I don’t care, and I don’t wait for him. I push through the double glass doors and head out to my truck in the parking lot, thanking my lucky stars that I met Ryder at the gym.
He was still busy packing when I told him I needed to head into the leasing office before they closed. We agreed drive separately and meet back at the gym.
I decide to take my time heading home so I can cool off. It’s either that or unleash my endless vocabulary of profanity. Brock is off the hook because I’m leaving, and this could very well have been the last time I see him. As for Ryder, hopefully my delayed return home will teach the cocky bastard that I don’t like being spoken about as if I’m not there, especially when I’m standing three feet away.
Slamming the door on my black BMW SUV, I think back to the last time I had simple actions taken away from me, the days when I had to ask for things. The days when I was told what to do, and what to say. The dark days of my past still haunting my sleepless nights. I put the truck in drive and can’t help but let the bitter memories from almost a year ago take over my thoughts.
“All you had to do was say you were sorry, Jayne. Then I wouldn’t have to leave you like this.”
I watch Andrew from the small slit that will open on my left eye. The right one is still firmly shut. I don’t know what he’s talking about, his constant wanting for me to say sorry, but I keep my mouth shut. My head hangs low on my shoulders because I lack the energy to keep it upright.
“Look at you! You’re a fucking mess. All you had to do was apologize Jayne, then ask me nicely to go the bathroom. But you’re such a stubborn bitch that now you’ve gone and pissed yourself!”
His sickening laugh grates on my eardrums. I think I’ve been here for two days now. He controls when I‘m awake, when I’m allowed to drink (which so far has only been twice) and when I can use the bucket. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been unconscious, but apparently it was long enough for me—a grown woman—to piss herself.
The warmth is a stark contrast to the coolness of the concrete under my feet. I try to feel ashamed at what I’ve done, but I feel nothing. I’m covered in blood—dry, sticky and fresh. I haven’t slept or eaten in days. My wrists are raw from the frayed rope holding them above my head, and now I’ve pissed in the underwear I’ve been wearing since I left home on Wednesday afternoon.
I’m trapped in a basement with a psychopath—who I have no desire to please.
Not to mention my ‘give-a-fuck’ broke a long time ago.
Regaining my resolve, firm on the fact that I’ll never allow someone to dictate my life, I head for home.
* * *
I park my truck in the garage and turn off the engine. I know Ryder is already here because his truck is parked on the street. I grab the bag of Italian food I picked up off the passenger seat along with my gym bag before getting out of the vehicle.
I’m not two steps toward the connecting door leading into the house, before it swings open and angry black eyes stare back at me.
“Did you think to answer your phone while you were out joyriding, woman? I’ve called you ten times in the last hour.”
Ryder is about to learn a little lesson about who wears the pants in this household. As well as who can come home to it whenever they damn well please. I square my jaw and look him directly in the eye.
“Whose house is this, Ryder?”
Confused eyes stare back at my determined ones. I don’t give him a chance to answer.
“It’s my house Ryder. That means if I want to roll in at nine at night, or nine in the morning, that’s my fucking business. Now, if you’ll step aside my dinner’s getting cold.”
He doesn’t move a muscle.
Doesn’t blink.
Just stares at me.
“Let me tell you something, Elle. When I’m seeing a woman, when I care about that woman, and when I’m fucking that woman, I think that gives me every right to know where she is, and when she’s going to be home.”
I’m not sure whether I want to weep, or hit him.
>
Being as I do best when I hang onto my anger, I choose the latter.
“Well here’s a little lesson for you Ryder Callaghan. When you’re with a woman, and you feel like you have rights over her, you best make sure you sit down and see if she’s ready for the same thing. You also might want to ask her if she likes to make her own life choices and speak for herself. Because that shit you said to Brock back there at the gym? Not fucking cool Ryder! I’m my own person, and I’ll be damned if someone will speak for me. So long as I’m walking, talking and breathing I will continue to make those choices for myself! And nobody on this green earth will ever make them for me. Do I make myself clear?”
