Stryder (The Black Stallion Trilogy Book 2)

by Maggie Ryan

  Stryder watched as Jennie reached out to give the troll’s head a little pat as if greeting a friend before she looked up at Drake. “Stress is the number one killer, especially for men your age. A few tokes of my special blend, which contains not one iota of any chemical or preservative, allows one to release all that harmful stress and center themselves so that they are open to hear the answers they’ve been seeking.”

  “Smoking contains carcinogens—”

  “And The Flying Pig’s offerings contain animal fat, gluten, sugar—”

  “Good God, woman, do you have some hippie answer for everything?”

  Jennie grinned and Stryder suddenly had a feeling he understood why she’d managed to appear completely unaffected by Drake’s questioning. If he was right, she was about to play her trump card. Jennie didn’t disappoint.

  “I really don’t need to give you an answer, hippie or otherwise, because I was given carte blanche to do whatever I thought was appropriate.”

  “And, pray tell, what idiot thought that was a good idea?” Drake asked.

  “Uh oh,” Stryder said, drawing Zoya’s eyes to him, hers remarkably going even wider. Standing, he said, “That idiot would be me. I’ll be glad to discuss it with you later but right now, I’ve got to prioritize what’s most important, and frankly, Pops, learning that our women had a little party in our absence is extremely low on that list.”

  Maddox stood as well. “I’ll do a bit of investigating on my own and can promise that if additional facts come to light that need attention, I won’t sleep until I’ve taken care of what I consider my part of the problem.”

  Anson chuckled and stood, holding his hands up, palms out. “I don’t have a dog in this fight so I’m gonna find a game on TV and just chill until I get the signal that the data searches I’ve set up are done.” Plucking the vodka bottle from the table, he moved towards the door.

  Drake said, “That’s fine, boys, you do that, and I’ll do what I have to as well.” The three brothers were all grinning when they heard Jennie’s laugh and utter the words she often did, “Promises, promises.”

  “How did he know?” Zoya asked once they were clear of the kitchen and the others.

  Stryder chuckled. “Babe, this entire house is state of the art. You know we have the intercom system, right?” When she nodded, her cheeks pinkening with the memory of Jennie’s voice, he grinned. “Well, there are also cameras everywhere. I’m betting that while Anson probably did go to the center to check on his equipment, Pops just ran through a few tapes and gathered his own intel.”

  She was silent as he pushed open the door to her bedroom, extremely grateful that she was in his arms and not behind a locked door. It wasn’t until he had her on her feet in the bathroom, the shower on and beginning to steam, her sneakers already untied and pulled off, her socks discarded, and he had her running shorts halfway to her ankles that she gave a little shriek and grabbed at his hands.

  “No!”

  “No? Babe, what’s wrong? I thought you understood we were going to share a shower,” Stryder said, retaining his squatted position but not attempting to pull her shorts further down.

  “You said cameras are everywhere!”

  His laughter might be inappropriate as she truly did look horrified, and yet he couldn’t help it. “Zoya, I didn’t mean everywhere. There are none in the bathrooms.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I helped install them, so relax.”

  She released her hold on his hands and stepped out of her shorts when they reached her feet, repeating the move when he lowered her panties as well. She didn’t even balk when he had her lift her arms so that he could pull off her t-shirt. Her bra quickly followed and he stripped out of his own clothes, guiding her into the shower stall and joining her.

  “Stryder?”

  “What?” he asked, his cock already rock hard and pressing against her ass as he held her against him beneath the spray.

  “Are there cameras in the bedrooms?”

  “No. The intercom is enough if someone needs to communicate. I prom… I swear, the only cameras that are constantly running are those areas outside the house. Where did you have your little party?”

  “On the porch.”

  “That explains it then. Zoya, our job is to keep those people we bring to the ranch safe. It is just a fact of life. You don’t need to worry about it because again, I prom… I assure you that no one is going to be seeing you naked or watching you come apart in my arms except for me. All right? Like I said, the cameras are outside the house, and in case you’re wondering, they aren’t at the lake or anywhere else where I’d make love to you.”

  He’d just bent to nibble on her neck when she pulled away, turning her head to look at him. “That still doesn’t explain how Drake had the bottles. I’d think that Jennie would have thrown them away.”

  Stryder chuckled. “Jennie doesn’t throw anything away unless she absolutely has to. Hell, she even scrapes our plates into a pail and adds that to a compost pile to use in her garden. Which, if you ask me, is a little like cannibalism… I mean, plants feeding off those already harvested.” He chuckled again at the look on her face and then shrugged. “Next time you are out on the porch, take a closer look at the table. It was just an old barn door until Jennie used pieces of broken glass to make a mosaic. Pops was right about one thing. Our Jennie is a bit of a hippie in that she not only enjoys a bit of weed, she loves doing crafts. Just don’t get her started on recycling unless you’ve got a spare hour or two.”

  “What about the vodka bottle? It wasn’t empty.”

  “That I can’t explain, except that Pops usually enjoys a shot when we get back from a mission, though his drink of choice is whiskey. How he noticed the vodka bottle, well, I don’t really know… unless ya’ll took it outside as well?”

  “No, but I can’t promise I put it back exactly where I got it, either.”

  Stryder grinned. “I notice you didn’t mention the little fellow, you know, the troll.”

  He watched as her cheeks flushed. “Um, I mean, he does live on the porch, which is outside. You’re not mad, are you? I only smoked a little.”

  “Nah, I trust Jennie to know when to put her pipe away. Pops does too, he just likes to give her a hard time.”

  “Do you think… I mean, he isn’t going to…”

  “I can’t say and frankly, I don’t want to know. They are both adults and while I’m into all that family togetherness stuff, there are some things that need to remain private.” He bent to nibble on her neck again, his palms moving to cup her breasts as he lifted his lips to her ear. “Don’t you agree?”

  “Definitely,” she purred, turning to wrap her arms around his neck. Bending, he kissed her and then, as he had that day in the lake, he lifted her, pressed her against the tile wall and lowered her onto his shaft. The moment he slid home, she moaned and wrapped her legs tighter around his waist. And like the first time, it didn’t take but a few strokes before she cried out his name, the walls of her pussy contracting around him and causing him to give a final thrust before joining her.

  Once he caught his breath, he pulled out, and set her on her legs which were still a bit wobbly, a fact that he loved. They took turns washing each other until both were breathing a bit harder and his cock had risen again. He reached to shut off the water, adoring the fact that she gave a little moan when he stepped out and wrapped a towel around his waist. He had every intention of making love to every inch of her body, but as great as it had been, the shower wasn’t his first choice and they had other things to attend to.

  “Come on, let’s get you dry,” he said, wrapping her hair in a towel and using another to dry her body. Fifteen minutes later, her hair was floating down her back in soft waves and she was dressed in a pair of white lace panties and matching bra under a sky-blue sundress. He had changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt that he pulled from the duffel he’d found in her room, most likely courtesy of Anson.
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  Walking into the bedroom, he knew that if they stayed, he’d have her naked and beneath him before they’d had the talk they needed to have. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “I’d like that,” she said, and with her hand in his, they left her room and the house.

  It wasn’t yet completely dark but stars had begun appearing in the sky. The night was full of the sounds of crickets chirping, squirrels chattering, and horses whinnying. They were sounds that always had Stryder relaxing, knowing he was home. Zoya didn’t speak, walking beside him as he led her through the trees, coming out the other side where the stables could be seen. Knowing she wasn’t particularly comfortable around the horses, he walked a little further until he came to a large oak tree. It was a place where the men who worked the horses often took their breaks, sitting at the large picnic table beneath the shade. At this hour, they had the area to themselves. He released her hand and stepped onto the bench but sat on the top of the table, extending his hand to her. Once she was settled in his lap, the view of the mountains in front of them, he knew it was time.

  Stryder bent and kissed the top of her head. He stroked her arm, gathering his thoughts. “Zoya, you know that I’m adopted, but I didn’t tell you everything. I was born in Argentina and grew up in Rosario. I never knew my father, as the moment he discovered my mother was pregnant with me, he left. Getting by in that place was hard enough but trying to scrape out a living in order to feed not only yourself but a child was next to impossible… unless you were willing to work in the coca fields, the labs, or deal. The cartels rule most of Argentina. They take whatever they want and don’t give a damn about who they hurt. When I was six, it was decided that I was old enough to work in the coca fields but my mother was adamant that I go to school instead. What it took me a while to realize, was that in exchange for being allowed to put me into school, my mother was expected to pay. My mother was only twenty-one then as she’d had me at the age of fifteen. She agreed to pay using the only source of income she had: her body. My mother was a beautiful woman but often I came home to discover her bleeding and bruised. She’d assure me she was all right, that she’d just been clumsy and fallen, but I wasn’t stupid. I knew she’d been beaten. I watched her age before my eyes and though I begged her to let me work for the cartel, promised that I’d only work long enough to save enough money for us to run, she always assured me that she was fine. That she wanted better for me. When I was eight, I was sick and left school early. We lived in a one room hovel but it was home. I was passing an alley when I heard… I saw her, pressed against the filthy bricks, some man pounding into her. When the man saw me, he told me that my mamacita was with a real man and to go the fuck away. I’ll never forget the look on my mother’s face. I-I think that was the day she gave up all hope.

  “I ran… to a policeman and told him what was happening, begged him to arrest the man. He patted me on the head like a dog and laughed. Told me that I needed to learn how the world really worked. Only certain families had choices. The cartel owned everything, owned my mother. Then he told me to tell pretty Maria that he’d be by for his weekly freebie when his shift was over. I was just a kid but it became obvious that once I knew for sure that my mother was a prostitute, the men saw no need for pretense any longer. Men came at all hours, including several policemen… to our home, or took her somewhere else, or just dragged her into the alley.”

  “Oh God, I’m so sorry,” Zoya said, trying to turn, yet he simply tightened his hold.

  “Let me finish or I never will.” When she again tried, he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Please… I have to finish.” When she nodded, he lifted his head and looked out across the pastures.

  “When I was ten, I came home to find her on the floor, bleeding and semi-conscious. I was just a scrawny kid, but I managed to get her onto the bed. I told her I was going for the doctor but she wouldn’t let go of my hand. I held her and she-she died in my arms.”

  He realized Zoya was trembling almost violently and turned her to face him, watching as tears streamed down her face. Pulling her to his chest, he felt her wrap her arms tightly around his waist, laying her cheek against his heart, giving him comfort he wasn’t sure he deserved.

  “I swore then that I’d kill the men who’d caused her death. I was blind with rage and filled with pain. One night, I followed one of the policemen who should have protected her but raped her instead. He’d just left another prostitute’s house, a woman who was also only trying to provide for her family. If he hadn’t been drunk and stoned, he could have easily killed me, but he was. I beat him until I couldn’t lift my arm…” Memories of that day, memories he’d pushed deep were playing vividly in Stryder’s mind.

  “Did… did he die?”

  Her question brought him back. “I don’t know. I left him in that alley not giving a shit if he was dead or if I got caught. All I needed was a few hours more. I’d stolen his gun with every intention of going after the head of the cartel. Of course, I’d never have managed, most likely would have been shot the moment I stepped foot into the compound but I never found out. The moment I went into the coca fields, I was grabbed by a man. Fuck, I’m still not sure how I managed not to shoot him or myself, as I had my finger on the damn trigger, but thank God I didn’t.”

  “It was Drake, wasn’t it?” Zoya asked softly.

  Stryder nodded. “Yes, and though I could tell he was a gringo, a foreigner, there was something about him that had me telling him my plan to avenge my mother. He didn’t laugh or make light of it or tell me I was a fool. Instead, I remember he pointed to the house and the guards that I’d never even noticed and told me that I’d need to take them out first. He said that maybe I had enough faith to trust that some invisible force would keep me safe but if I decided that living to fight another day was better than being just another statistic of those killed at the hands of the fucking cartel, I could choose to trust him and his team. Hell, I was so stupid that I didn’t even realize that there were other men with him. He then said that if I’d trust him, he’d take me with him when they left Argentina. I told him I didn’t care if I died and that if he tried to stop me, I’d shoot him first.” His chuckle had Zoya lifting her head to look at him, confusion on her beautiful face.

  “Sorry, it’s not funny, but this stranger said, ‘then, son, you’d better take off the safety.’ I didn’t even know how to do that. He said that if I truly wanted to avenge my mother, I could do so by going with him. That one day I’d get a chance to save another. Thank God I wasn’t completely blinded by anger. I agreed and watched as his team swooped in and the night lit up. By the time he returned, the house was on fire, as were the surrounding fields. At first I thought he was with the DEA or some government agency, but when one of his team came up, holding a woman who obviously needed medical attention, he told me that saving her had been the goal. She was an innocent drawn into evil against her will. Within a week, I was in Texas, and within a month, I had a new name, a father, two big brothers and our Jennie, who became my second mother. Pops was true to his word. I got an education that included far more than that found in textbooks. Pops made sure I understood the difference between revenge and justice. All I had to do was watch him and Maddox to learn about honor and dedication to a belief. I went on and served my country, gaining experience that has been invaluable when I joined him and Maddox on missions.”

  “Missions to save people like Adira, like me,” Zoya said.

  “Yes, but you need to know that I’m not innocent of doing bad things, and that while I’ll never know if that policeman died that day and never care, I have killed other men.”

  “I hope he did die. He was supposed to protect you, your mother. He was just as evil as Poplov. You and your family fight against evil, Stryder, corruption. Don’t you dare feel bad about that—not ever!”

  Stryder cupped her cheek with his palm. “What I wanted to tell you was that I not only understood where Sophia was coming from, I’d lived it. My mother would have d
one anything to save me… to keep me alive. Even in death she saved me because it led me to Pops. Since that day, I knew I’d spend the rest of my life following in his footsteps. I didn’t mean to break my promise to you, but I just couldn’t damn a woman for trying to protect her child.”

  “Oh God, no,” Zoya said, “I wasn’t thinking straight. I was so mad at Anya for not staying alive until she could be saved. The thought of Sophia getting away when Anya didn’t just drove me out of my mind. But Jennie and Adira told me about the fact that Sophia might have a baby… that she wasn’t given a choice. God, Stryder, I was wrong, so wrong and you were right. I don’t want her dead. She’s just as much a victim as we are… just in a different way.”

  Stryder brushed a tear off her cheek and said, “You heard Pops say that with the death of Poplov, as well as several of his highest-ranking men, his enterprises are in a state of chaos. Pops has built up an amazing network over the years. Each of us has added to it. There is no end to evil men in this world, but there are still those who fight for those who can’t fight for themselves. By the time we landed, we learned that my contact in Russia, along with other men Hadi and Pops arranged, got into Russia and brought both Sophia and her little girl out. She’ll be given a new identity and placed in a location where she can start over. We are working on getting the others out as well.”

  When Zoya burst into sobs, he was a bit startled. “Shh, did you hear me? Honey, I said Sophia is safe.”

  “I kn… know… but-but I was so aw… awful. I-I said hor… horrible thi… things…”

  She was barely able to speak but he didn’t need to hear the words to recognize the pain. “Shh, it’s going to be all right.”

  “No-no it’s not…” Gulping for air, choking as she struggled to say what she needed, her entire body was shaking.

  Setting his forehead against hers, he remembered helping her calm before. “Zoya, breathe with me. Don’t think, don’t do anything except concentrate on me. Inhale. Exhale. Again, in… out.” He continued to give softly spoken instructions until she was no longer struggling. “Better?”