His to Claim

by Shelly Bell

  Damn it. She’d have to call IT and see if they could fix the problem or at least extract the files for her.

  Striding out of Evan’s office, she slammed into a hard body. “Oomph.” She looked up at Derek. Her heartbeat accelerated. She hadn’t known anyone else was here.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said. “I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

  He rubbed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. After hearing the news about Barbara, we’re all a bit lost in our own heads today.”

  “What are you doing here so late?” she asked, searching his face for a sign of…she didn’t know what.

  “I had to make a few calls since I’ll be gone for the rest of the week,” he explained.

  McKay would be closed tomorrow through next Monday for the Thanksgiving holiday.

  Someday, Jane would have a house big enough to host her own Thanksgiving. Everyone would be welcome. Family, friends, coworkers. The more the merrier. There was nothing worse than being alone on the holidays.

  “Right.” She blew out a breath. “I’d forgotten about that.”

  After wishing him a happy holiday, she casually strolled down the hall and onto the elevator, trying not to peer over her shoulder to see if Derek was following her.

  Before this week, she would’ve never believed anyone she knew could be a murderer.

  Ryder had her doubting everyone and everything.

  Including herself.

  FOURTEEN

  Is that apple pie I smell? Forget dinner. When’s dessert?” Ryder asked Tristan as he stepped into the Lawson home.

  Cars were lined up on the street outside the house, and judging by the dozens of different voices, Isabella’s entire family had come for Thanksgiving dinner. Isabella came from a large Italian family with several sisters, a brother, and lots of cousins. Three little boys ran down the wooden staircase, their feet making much more noise than Ryder would’ve thought possible.

  He saw Maddox in every one of them.

  It had been three nights since he’d held his son or heard from Jane. He couldn’t count how many times he’d picked up his phone to call her, before hanging up because he’d left the next move to her.

  But damn it, he didn’t think she’d take this long.

  It was a gamble he’d hated to wager. But if she wasn’t ready to hear his story, he couldn’t make her listen. Wagging her finger, Mrs. Lawson came up behind Tristan. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. You eat dinner, you watch some football, and you’ll make the space for dessert.”

  “Thank you for including me, Mrs. Lawson,” he said, handing her a bouquet of orange lilies and a bottle of wine.

  “You always have a place at our table, Ryder.” She reached up and patted him lightly on the cheek. “Come in and let me take your coat. We’ll be having dinner shortly, but if you’re hungry, I have some appetizers set up in the living room.”

  Even though she was about a foot shorter than him, she had a way of making him feel as though he were a five-year-old. Vulnerable but safe. Loved unconditionally. His throat thickened with emotion as he tried to recall the last time he’d felt that way around his father.

  Had he ever? Ryder often wondered what his life would have been like had he grown up with his mother. Would she have made their cold, impersonal mansion seem more like a home? Welcomed family and friends to their house for the holidays? Would he have spent the day after Thanksgiving decorating the Christmas tree with her?

  The image of the woman with the long black hair rose to the forefront of his mind. He didn’t think of her often, but on days like these, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had been real or just an imaginary by-product of a recurrent nightmare from his childhood.

  After Mrs. Lawson took Ryder’s jacket and reintroduced him to a half-dozen relatives, Tristan smacked him on the back and led him to the family room, where a group of mostly men had congregated in front of the television to watch football. As soon as he approached, Isaac stood from the couch.

  The Lawsons had also “adopted” Isaac and his wife, Cassandra, into their family. Ryder held out his hand. “Isaac, Happy Thanksgiving.”

  Of course, Isaac would have none of that. He pulled Ryder into a bear hug and thumped him between the shoulder blades. “Ryder. Good to see you.”

  “Lions winning?” he asked, not really caring but making an attempt at small talk.

  Isaac snorted as if he couldn’t believe Ryder was asking. “What do you think?”

  If he was a betting man, he’d put money on them leading the game early on but later losing to the opposing team.

  Kind of like he was doing with Jane.

  He snagged a beer from the table and snapped off the cap. “Where’s Cassandra?”

  Isaac’s wife was a regal and charming woman who adored her husband. And from what Ryder had witnessed, the feeling was mutual.

  Isaac surprised Ryder and grabbed himself a beer to drink. He wouldn’t have pegged the older man as a Canadian beer drinker. “Cassandra’s in the other room with the women.” He arched his brow and smiled. “You know how she gets when she’s around children. I don’t think she’ll ever give that poor baby back to his mother.”

  Something stirred between his ribs. “Baby?”

  “Jane’s here with Maddox.” Isaac spoke casually, but the twist of amusement to his lips gave him away. “You know Jane, right?”

  “We’ve met,” he said, playing along to see where Isaac was going with this charade. He obviously knew something. But what? Had he overheard Ryder’s conversation with Tristan at Novateur? “She mentioned my father called you personally to request her as an intern.”

  “He did.”

  “And you didn’t think to tell me?”

  Isaac had the audacity to appear perplexed, but Ryder knew the man. Very little caught him off guard. “Why would I do that?”

  Ryder glared at Isaac. “Because it’s my father.”

  Isaac’s face soured. “I know how you feel about him, but that has nothing to do with my duty to my students as dean of the business school. Despite any opinion I may have about him, I felt it was in Jane’s best interests to allow her to decide whether or not to accept the internship.”

  Ryder wanted to argue, but it wouldn’t be worth the energy he exerted because of course Isaac was right. Didn’t mean he had to like it. “You should have told me.”

  “Did you even know Jane back then?”

  “No,” Ryder admitted.

  Isaac’s gaze twinkled and the corners of his mouth lifted. “Her son is a handsome guy. His eyes are quite unique. I’ve rarely seen that gray before.”

  Isaac knew.

  Ryder glanced at the other men in the room, relieved to see that they were all focused on watching the game. Still, he dropped the volume of his voice. “Did you overhear my conversation with Tristan at Novateur?”

  “You mean, when you shouted that Maddox was yours?” Isaac asked, keeping his voice quiet as well. He smiled at Ryder. “But even if I hadn’t overheard, one look at that boy and I would’ve known he was a McKay.”

  It had been just as obvious to Ryder.

  Which led him to wonder…

  Had Keane figured it out too?

  And if so, what game was he playing?

  * * *

  Jane hadn’t gotten a chance to hold Maddox since walking into the Lawsons’ house. For more than an hour, he’d been passed from woman to woman, leaving Jane with her hands free for a glass of white wine and her attention free to engage in conversation. And other than his happy baby babble, she hadn’t heard a peep from him.

  Was this what it would be like to have a supportive family?

  The Lawsons’ house was by no means a mansion and yet practically every inch of the main floor was filled with family, friends, neighbors, and strangers like herself. It was crazy loud inside with all the laughing and talking of adults and the whining and screaming of overtired children. She was grateful to Dreama for bringing her here
tonight, but at the same time, it hit her how much she was missing.

  Jane’s mouth watered at the scents coming from the kitchen. Turkey, cinnamon, apple…and oregano. The Lawsons were Italian and, according to Isabella, served various Italian dishes along with the traditional Thanksgiving foods. And since they owned a bakery, their dining room was already overflowing with at least a dozen desserts ready to be served after dinner was eaten. Needless to say, Jane wouldn’t go home hungry that night.

  She scooped a handful of cashews from the bowl on the coffee table as Isabella sat down beside her and kicked off her heels on a groan.

  “Rough day?” Jane asked.

  Isabella smiled. “New shoes. I should know better by now not to break in a pair of heels when I’m going to be on my feet most of the day, but I couldn’t resist them.” She leaned over and whispered, “And neither could Tristan.”

  Dreama had introduced Jane to Isabella and Tristan when they’d first arrived at the Lawson house. Jane had taken an instant liking to them, especially Isabella, who welcomed Jane with a large hug.

  Isabella massaged the bottom of her foot. “It’s crazy how Ryder spent the last year obsessing over you and you were practically right under his nose the entire time. Jane’s such a common name, I never thought to put you together with the girl Ryder was looking for. Besides, Dreama always refers to you as ‘Chickie’ whenever she talks about you.”

  Jane wanted to ask Isabella if she knew where Ryder was spending the holiday.

  Was he alone?

  She’d picked up the phone a half dozen times in the last couple of days, but she couldn’t find the courage to call him. What would she say? “When I answered her ad for a roommate, she told me I didn’t look like a Jane. She’s called me Chickie ever since.” After a lifetime of feeling as ordinary as her name, she had loved having a nickname with some personality.

  “I think Jane’s a beautiful name,” Isabella said. “Jane Eyre is one of my favorite books.”

  Hers too. Not because the heroine shared her name, but because in the end, the orphaned Jane found the family she’d always wanted. “Ryder doesn’t have a crazy wife locked up in his attic, does he?” Jane asked on a giggle.

  “No, but if I did lock one up,” came a deep rumble of a voice into her ear, “I’d keep her in my basement playroom where I store my restraints.”

  Holy shit.

  He was here.

  She hopped up from the couch and spun around. “Ryder.” Her heart banged like a stick on a drum. She had so much to say to him, but now that he was in front of her, she didn’t know where to start. “Happy Thanksgiving.”

  “Happy Thanksgiving, Jane.”

  His gray eyes were dark as a storm cloud as his gaze locked on to hers and refused to let go. All the people and all the noise in the house disappeared from her consciousness until it was only her and Ryder and that sizzling connection between them.

  “Can we talk?” he asked.

  “Use my old bedroom,” Isabella said, jarring Jane from the trance she’d fallen into. “It’s up the stairs, second door on the left. If any of the kids are in there, feel free to kick them out. They know they’re not allowed.”

  Ryder circled around the couch and, taking her by the hand, led her up the staircase to Isabella’s room.

  Her pulse quickened as she tried to find the words she wanted to say. She had plenty of experience negotiating in the boardroom but had zero experience navigating the intricacies of her personal life. He flicked on the lights and led her inside before closing the door behind them. Her eyes barely had time to adjust before he caged her in against the pink wall and his hard chest.

  “Time’s up. I’m done with giving you space.”

  Moisture pooled in her panties and her nipples went crazy hard, poking out of her blouse like an invitation to Ryder’s mouth. It had been only two days since he’d touched her, but it felt as though it had been years. The heat of his body radiated from him, making her sweat in anticipation.

  Or maybe that was from the erection pressing into her hip.

  “While I appreciate you giving it to me, I’ve always thought that space was overrated.”

  He clenched his jaw, the muscles around his mouth tightening. A low growl emanated from deep in his chest. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  Oh God.

  Her cheeks heated.

  She’d misunderstood.

  Mortified, she would have figured his rejection would have killed her arousal, but nope. Still horny as hell for him.

  “Okay. Is that what you wanted to say to me?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  His eyes widened. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud. It was more of a warning to myself.” He framed her face between his palms. “Make no mistake. I want to fuck you so hard and so filthy I can barely see straight. But we’ve spent too much time fucking and not enough talking. So for now, I’m gonna keep my hands and mouth off you. At least until we get things worked out.”

  Jane bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out as her sex quivered and clenched in what felt like a mini-orgasm.

  He’d almost made her come.

  From his words alone.

  Trembling, she reached out and set her hands on his chest. “Things?” she asked. His navy sweater was soft under her fingertips, but beneath that, his hard muscles flexed.

  “I’m sorry I asked you to quit your job. It isn’t my place to tell you what to do.” He covered her hands with his own. “It’s been a long time since I cared for anyone, and I’m out of practice.”

  He cared about her?

  Wasn’t it too soon? They were virtually strangers.

  Yet she had to admit…she cared about him as well.

  Her body grew warm and floaty as if she’d drank a double shot of vodka. “I should’ve given you the opportunity to explain.” She tilted her head to look into his eyes. “I’m not used to anyone having a say over my life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always had to take care of myself. The aunt and uncle who raised me loved me, but they weren’t exactly affectionate people. They taught me to be self-sufficient.”

  He cradled her face in his hands. “I’m not asking you to change. Just know that if you ever fall, I’ll be your safety net. From now on, we’re in this together.”

  “If that’s true, then I need you to be honest with me. You called Keane a monster…” She clenched his sweater in her hands. “Tell me why you hate him so much.”

  He traced her cheekbone with his thumb. “You’re sure you want to know?”

  “No,” she whispered. “But I’m sure I need to.” After losing two of her employees and witnessing Keane’s bizarre behavior, she had no choice. She had to learn the truth about the man she’d considered her mentor.

  But more than that, she needed to understand the man in front of her.

  FIFTEEN

  Ryder wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her sideways onto his lap. Once they settled at the headboard of Isabella’s squeaky old twin bed, Ryder rested his chin on top of her head.

  He didn’t like to think about his childhood. For so long, he’d locked away those memories and thrown away the key.

  Walking through life being angry at his father was easy.

  But talking about his past…that was fucking hard.

  He swallowed hard, easing the tension that had built in his throat, and took a deep breath. Jane didn’t rush him. Instead, they sat in silence, simply holding on to one another. He buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her fresh scent. She fit so perfectly against him.

  He could get used to this.

  After a few minutes, he found himself ready to tell her about his darkest days…and his biggest regrets. “One of my earliest memories is sitting on my father’s lap,” he said, staring at the pink wall in front of him, “eating a cookie as he talked to three men about setting a fire to someone’s house to teach them a lesson. I couldn’t have been more than four and I was already terrified of him. Afra
id of what he’d do to me if I ever disobeyed him.”

  “What were you afraid he’d do?” she asked, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  His recurrent nightmare of a woman covered in blood flashed through his mind.

  “When you hear your father complimenting one of his enforcers for shattering the bones of someone’s legs with a baseball bat, you tend to have an active imagination when it comes to the idea of punishment.”

  She grew rigid in his arms. “Did he ever—”

  “No, Keane never laid a hand on me.” He hadn’t needed to. Not when fear had worked so well. “My father never hid his crimes from Finn or me. He was grooming us to take over McKay Industries, just as his father had groomed him. But Finn and I made a pact. We would never become our father. Never join the family business. Never provide Keane with any heirs for him to mold.”

  Her eyes softened with understanding. “That’s why you don’t want Keane to know about Maddox.”

  “He’s not done with me, Jane. I haven’t figured out why he set up a business to compete with mine or how you fit into it, but I swear, I will never allow Keane to get his hooks into our son.”

  She gave him a small smile as she soothingly ran her fingers through his hair. “I know you won’t.”

  A wave of relief crashed into him. “You believe me?”

  “I do.” She frowned. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  Only a few days ago, she’d been firm in the belief that Keane hung the moon. What had changed since he’d last seen her?

  “Other than talking about it with Finn, I kept it all to myself for a long time,” he said. “When I finally did tell someone, it didn’t go well.”

  “What happened?”

  “The day before I started college, I went to the cops. Unbeknownst to Keane, I had won a full ride to Edison University and was leaving for good. I spoke to a detective for three hours and gave him everything I knew about Keane’s illegal dealings.”