Stryder (The Black Stallion Trilogy Book 2)

by Maggie Ryan

  “Good night, Zoya,” he said, his voice sounding sleepy.

  “Good night,” she whispered, adding the word Master in her mind as she closed her eyes.

  When she opened her eyes again, it was to find sunlight streaming through the window. Closing them, she didn’t need to roll over to know that the bed contained only her. So, he’d left sometime during the night once assured she was asleep. It was her first time being in this room, but Adira had also used the room before she married Maddox. She’d told her that this beautiful room, tucked away beneath the stairs to give it a sense of security, was considered the “save’s guest room” which meant that many different women had spent time in the room… in this bed. Though Stryder had never answered her question, she knew it had been to save her any embarrassment at hearing his answer that what he’d done was simply checking another box on his “keep the save calm” list.

  What did you expect? For him to stay all night? To keep his arms around you? Sure, being his “save” might be the words he uses, but the reality is that you are nothing more than his “duty.” Not wishing to listen to that voice in her head, she opened her eyes, pushed back the covers and sat up, only to squeal and yank them up to her chin.

  “Whoa, it’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you,” Stryder said, rising from the chair he’d originally attempted to sleep in the night before.

  Feeling foolish, she shook her head. “You didn’t… I mean, not really. Did you sleep there after all?”

  “No,” he said with a chuckle. “I tend to wake up early and didn’t want to disturb you. I’ve been reading.” As if to prove his claim, he placed the book in his hand on the small table beside the chair.

  “You… you stayed all night?”

  “Didn’t I tell you I was going to?”

  “Well, yes, but—”

  “No buts. If you haven’t learned by now, I’ll repeat it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.” The silence hung for a moment until she managed to nod. “I’m sure Jennie has coffee ready. Why don’t you get dressed and meet me in the kitchen?”

  “All right,” she said, pushing down the covers again, swinging her legs over the side of the bed.

  “Good, I’ll have a cup waiting for you.”

  He didn’t wait for her to speak, simply left the room. After showering and pulling a comb through her hair, she pulled on the same jeans she’d worn the day before, pairing it with a soft yellow t-shirt she’d found in the dresser. During their tour, Adira had assured her that all the clothing in the closet and dresser had been purchased for her use. It was another sign that this family was not only accustomed to having guests, they were well prepared. Tying her shoelaces, Zoya stood and quickly made the bed, then left to join the Steeles, smiling as she realized she wasn’t anywhere near as nervous as she’d been the night before. She also wondered what sort of repast Jennie had prepared. The woman’s “meatloaf” meal had had benefits other than those she’d explained to the brothers. The entire scene had served to keep Zoya from feeling anxious, allowed her to laugh, allowed her to feel not as much as the stranger she was, but part of the group. She’d been a bit scared about meeting Jennie and yet felt as if the woman were not only the most loved member of the Steele family, but was also a woman who had understood exactly how Zoya felt.

  Entering the kitchen, she was greeted with smiles from Adira and Jennie who were both busy with breakfast preparations. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?” Adira asked.

  Zoya hesitated for an instant at Adira’s question, wondering if she knew that Stryder had slept with her. “Um, good morning. I slept fine, thank you.”

  “I’m glad,” Adira said from where she was standing at the stove. “I remember how scared I was my first night. Tea?”

  Seeing her lift a tea kettle into the air, Zoya nodded. “Yes, thank you. I’m not much of a coffee drinker.”

  “Me either, I much prefer tea.” Before she knew it, she was sitting at the table again, a steaming mug of tea in front of her.

  “I should have remembered that,” Stryder said, sipping from a huge mug of coffee. “I suppose people on this side of the ocean are coffee snobs.”

  Zoya grinned. “Or you only drink tea iced… with BBQ.”

  His eyes widened and his hand went to his chest. “Shh, not so loud. I’m hoping Jennie has forgotten…”

  “Silly boy,” Jennie said, bringing a large bowl to the table. “Have you known me to forget anything, especially when it comes to the health and welfare of my boys?”

  “No, ma’am,” Stryder said, his eyes going to the bowl. “Um, what’s that?”

  “This?” Jennie asked, glancing down into the bowl. “Oh, you know how much I hate to waste food, and you and Anson didn’t get to finish all that delicious, nutritious meatloaf before you jumped up…”

  Zoya wondered if she’d be attempting to not laugh at every meal as she heard a groan and watched Stryder’s face turn a bit gray. “Please, I’m begging you. Have mercy on a poor man…”

  Jennie’s laugh had Zoya biting her tongue as the older woman shook her head. “You know, for a man who is supposed to be tough, you can be such a wuss.”

  “Stop teasing him,” Adira scolded lightly as she brought over a plate piled high with pancakes.

  “You’re no fun,” Jennie said, putting the bowl down to reveal the contents which turned out to be a fresh fruit salad before she turned to return to the stove.

  “Thank you, Jesus,” Stryder said, reaching for the pancakes.

  “I’d be thanking Maddox if I were you,” Adira said.

  “Maddox? What does he have to do with anything?”

  “While I was giving Zoya a tour, he volunteered to help Jennie with clean-up. Before she could stop him, he’d accidentally scraped the contents of that pot into the garbage.”

  “Humph,” Stryder said, placing three of the huge pancakes on his plate. “As I recall, he was also the one rubbing it in that Anson and I got caught, so…”

  “I could always scrape it right back out again.” Zoya looked up to see Maddox striding into the room. “Morning, babe,” he said, bending to give Adira a kiss before pulling out a chair for her.

  “No need,” Stryder said. “I owe you one. Thanks, bro.”

  Drake and Anson soon joined them and the conversation turned to the plans for the day. Though the discussion had her stomach twisting a bit, Zoya managed to eat a small serving of the fruit. When Stryder slapped a pancake onto her plate, she’d protested but he’d quirked that damn eyebrow and silently reminded her that she’d promised to help and would need fuel in order to concentrate.

  Nibbling on a small piece, she wondered if he were going to be constantly referencing her recent promise. When he’d tapped the edge of her plate, she tore off another piece and figured that he most certainly would. Once every pancake that was on the second plate Jennie provided had disappeared, Zoya knew it was time to forget jokes and go to work as chairs scraped against the floor and the men rose. “Relax, you’ll do fine,” Adira reassured softly.

  Nodding, Zoya rose and thanked Jennie for the meal, surprised yet pleased when the woman gave her a hug. “Don’t you fret. If it becomes too much, you just tell Stryder. He’ll take care of you.”

  It was a reassurance she didn’t really need, but one she was grateful for anyway. When Stryder held out his hand, she took it, allowing him to lead her into what Adira had told her was the office. She was surprised to see a portion of the bookcase had opened to reveal a doorway. It wasn’t until she was a few steps from the door that she realized the wood paneling had become stone. “Where are we?” she asked softly.

  “In the tunnel,” Stryder said, looking down at her. “Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe.”

  As they continued walking, Zoya took in her surroundings with awe. “This goes into the mountain?”

  “Actually, it’s part of the mountain,” Stryder said. “There are natural caverns that we’ve turned into rooms.”

  Zoya found it n
ot only unusual but incredibly beautiful. Stones surrounded them, some shimmering with what she realized were crystals. “No wonder it took you years to build this house. I can’t even imagine what amount of work was needed. It’s truly amazing.” When they turned into a room, she gasped. “Oh, my.”

  Stryder chuckled. “Yeah, it’s pretty impressive isn’t it. Welcome to what we lovingly refer to as our operations center.”

  Zoya glanced up at him to see that he was looking, not at the natural cavern but at the banks of equipment. Shaking her head, she said, “I was talking about those.” Her finger pointed to columns hanging from the ceiling.

  “Oh.” Stryder chuckled, having the grace to look at least a bit chagrined. “Sorry. I know the stalactites and stalagmites are pretty amazing, but I guess I’m just used to seeing them daily.”

  “I don’t think I’d ever become accustomed to them,” Zoya said, looking up again. “But, I know we’re here to work, not sight see.”

  With a gentle guide of his palm against her lower back, he led her to a round conference table. Slipping into the chair he pulled away, she saw that the purchases they’d made at Wal-Mart the day before awaited her. Taking a deep breath, she reached for the drawing pad and the charcoal pencil. Flipping the cover of the pad, she closed her eyes a moment at the sight of the first blank sheet of parchment.

  “Hey, just relax.” Stryder’s voice had her eyes opening to find he’d squatted down by her chair. “Just take your time and do the best you can. No pressure.”

  “I’m fine,” she said softly. “Just picturing the… the subject.”

  He nodded, reaching to pat her hand before rising. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

  “I will.” She watched as he walked the short distance to drop into a chair in front of a bank of computer monitors where Anson was already seated. They began to talk softly as she turned her attention back to the pad. With a soft sigh, she closed her eyes for a few more moments, steeling herself for the feelings that she knew would threaten to consume her. Don’t. They can only frighten you if you let them. You are safe. Prove you aren’t that coward. It’s time to turn the tables and get the sons of bitches before they could terrorize another woman. Opening her eyes, she began to draw, the amazing room, the brothers’ soft voices, the hum of the machines disappearing as she poured every ounce of her concentration into creating the portraits that would help begin to bring down Poplov’s empire.

  With every stroke of her charcoal pencil, a face began to emerge. Curves became eyes, arcs formed eyebrows and lines formed a jaw. Without conscious thought, she opened the tin of colored pencils, using a combination, she added color to the skin, the hair that was slightly too long. It was as if she were back in that club… too far gone with the drugs slipped into her drink to fully understand that life as she’d known it was over. But the moment she picked up the dark blue pencil, applying the color and using another of lighter blue, blending the two hues together, the shudder of fear that ran down her spine told her that she’d gotten this one exactly right. Not only could she do this… she had to do this. Flipping the page, she began the next drawing, ignoring Katarina who had stood between the two men… for the moment at least. Time disappeared, the point of her pencil growing a bit dull, the charcoal transferring from her fingertips to her cheek, her throat, her forehead as she unconsciously lifted a finger to rub at her temple or massage her neck. The two men from the club completed, she put the finishing touches on the portrait of the woman she’d been foolish enough to consider a friend. Needing to get that face out of her head, she flipped a page and began to draw again. This was the one that broke her. It wasn’t Poplov or any of his employees, or even one of the monsters who had stood in that room, willing to part with obscene amounts of money in order to own, to use, to abuse another human being. When she saw the depth of the pain she’d drawn into the eyes of the woman, she stood, pushed the pad aside, threw the pencil to the floor and tore from the room.

  “Zoya!”

  Ignoring Stryder’s call, she raced back the way she’d come, bursting over the threshold into the office, continuing through the house. Her heart was racing, her feet pounding over the floors, her vision blurry with tears. The voice in her head screaming at her to get out, to run, drowned out the sound of Stryder calling to her. She gave a strangled cry when she had to slow in order to open the front door, but once through, she flew down the steps, her tennis shoes pounding the dirt as she ran… ran as if the very hounds of hell were on her heels.

  They’d driven over a rise to reach the house, but as she was going the opposite direction, the slope had her practically flying. Any thought that attempted to grab her attention was shoved away. She didn’t want to think—to feel—all she wanted was to run and so she did. It wasn’t until a sound she’d never link with that of anything from that nightmare reached her that she even turned her head. What she saw had her stumble and almost fall, her arms windmilling until she regained her balance. When the sound repeated, she was shocked to realize she felt no fear. She continued to place one foot in front of the other, eating up yard after yard but no longer running alone. A colt, solid black except for white “socks” on each of his legs, ran beside her on the opposite side of the fence. He would toss his head and give a repeat of the whinny that had first pulled her attention away from the memory that she had fled from… the eyes she’d drawn, eyes that belonged to a woman who hadn’t been as lucky as she. As she began to slow, the colt keeping pace right beside her, she began to sob.

  “I’m sorry, Natalia… God, I’m so sorry.”

  The next time she stumbled, she fell to her hands and knees, her head hanging as she struggled to breathe through the sobs that were tearing through her chest. The colt pulled up, his head hanging over the fence, dark soulful eyes on her as he gave another soft whinny.

  Chapter 11

  Fucking hell! Stryder didn’t have time to be playing childish games with the woman. Yes, she was scared. He knew that, and it ripped up his insides knowing Zoya might never truly feel safe again, but she was the one who had said she could do this. They were running out of time. Every day, every minute, every second, an innocent woman suffered at the hands of one of those monsters, and they needed Zoya’s help to bring them all to safety. As much as he wanted to be patient with Zoya, now was the time to work and focus. They didn’t have the luxury of taking their time and easing into it to spare her emotions. The mission must go on, eliminating all obstacles. Was his way of thinking heartless? Cold? Uncaring?

  Yes. But he couldn’t allow himself to give a fuck.

  Lives were at stake, and evil was winning every second they waited. So chasing down Zoya and dealing with her hysterics was not helping one bit. She needed to develop a tough skin, and running out of the operations room like a frightened little girl was not going to help anyone.

  “Zoya! Get back here now!” He hoped his booming voice would be enough for her to take pause.

  It wasn’t.

  If he were being honest with himself, he would admit that this was a fucking blow to his ego as well. Zoya was his save. This meant that along with her care and safety, what she did and her behavior were his responsibility as well. Stryder knew his brothers were finding this all really amusing. He saw their smirks when he called for Zoya to stop and she didn’t. It wasn’t their duty, but his, to chase after her and deal with it.

  He had never had one of his saves out and out defy him before. If he had called out any other of his saves’ names in the past, they would have stopped immediately—frozen by their fear of him. His warning voice would have been enough. Maddox had once accused him of being too tough, and Anson had called him an asshole on more than one occasion. His father had constantly lectured him about how it wasn’t good to have the save fear you. That Stryder needed to be more sensitive and soft. To try to understand how vulnerable they felt. Over and over, he got the talk from his family and the looks. He wasn’t good at all that mushy stuff, but he was trying his ha
rdest with Zoya. Or at least, he had been. But look what happened when he played nice? The save just picks up and flees like a jackrabbit. If he had been a heartless prick, she would have at least feared his ass and not been bolting out of the house.

  “Zoya!”

  She ran at full speed, out the door and down a dirt path along the fence. Her limber body cut through the air, and her sprint seemed almost effortless on her part. Her tiny feet moved so fast that all you could see was a blur of motion. It was truly a magnificent sight, only intensified when a young horse trotted up to the fencing and ran alongside her. His breath caught at the sight of her stumbling, her arms flailing until she regained her balance. The colt tossed his head and gave a whinny as if in approval as the two ran in perfect stride with each other, connecting as one as the wind danced within the hair of their manes.

  Cursing himself for being distracted by her beauty again, he called out. “You get back here now! Don’t make me chase you, or you will be sorry when I finally catch you!” Sprinting toward her definitely was not as easy for him as she made it look. It had been a while since he had had to do any type of running, especially at this speed.

  Leaping down the stairs of the porch and lengthening his stride so he could catch up with his vixen already had his lungs working in overdrive. He actually wondered if he would be able to catch up to her rapid pace when suddenly Zoya stumbled again, this time falling to the ground and landing on her hands and knees. His heart skipped, worried she had injured herself, which made his sprint toward her only grow in intensity.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, winded when he approached.

  Zoya was already brushing off the dirt and small pebbles from the palms of her hands. Tears coursed down her face, though she didn’t seem to be acting as if she were in any pain.

  He knelt down beside her and took hold of her upturned hands to examine them for himself. “Are you hurt?” He quickly scanned the rest of her body. He didn’t see any blood on her hands, and her knees were only dusty, with not even a hole in the denim of her jeans.