Chapter Four Seraphina
Chapter Four
Seraphina
For nine months, I’d prided myself on how courageous I’d been. Told myself I was a badass and could handle anything for a just cause. I’d convinced myself of that up until now, up until this moment, minutes away from being tortured for answers and killed.
My mother used to always say to me, Whatever will be, will be . And my chance encounter with Ryder tonight just proved that. I wasn’t meant to die. Not now, at least.
“Are you okay?” Ryder stared at me, the pale moonlight glinting off the water beside the dock where we stood near a rubber boat.
Four men were already seated inside. One was motionless, dressed in a suit with a bag over his head.
“Say something so I know you’re not in shock. That you can hear me.” Ryder’s voice cut through the fog in my mind, pulling me back to him.
Shock? I was feeling that, too, I supposed. I’m not dead. That fact was as wonderful as the face of the man before me now.
With the dock lights illuminating him, it was easy to see every hard plane of his body, right along with his worried expression.
“I’m the opposite of dead,” I said around the lump in my throat.
“Alive is a much preferable condition to be in, I agree.” My hero’s brows stitched together before he quietly knelt before me, directing me to hold on to his shoulders.
“You can’t walk on the boat in these things.
” His play-by-play of what he was doing and why it was needed helped, since I was still skipping through a tumultuous state of emotions.
Ryder removed my heels like a gentleman postdate, not like a man who’d saved a woman from nearly being assaulted and killed.
Because yeah, I knew exactly what would’ve happened on the yacht after Ezra took over for Wade and the other asshole.
I’d more than likely not have been able to convince Ezra I was innocent, then no telling what he’d have done to me before taking my life, knowing I’d never be able to narc on him to his wife if I was dead.
So a million thank-you s to this man and his friends would never be enough for saving me from that fate.
Ryder tossed my shoes on the boat while standing, then slipped a hand around my waist, preparing to escort me down into the floating escape device as I whispered, “Thank you. For everything.”
He gave me a small nod of You’re welcome , then helped me onto the boat.
“Seven minutes until our window is closed on a clean exfil,” one of the men announced, turning on the small engine that’d be our saving grace to get us out quicker than paddling. “They’ll discover those bodies soon.”
While seated, I unscrewed the backs of my earrings and tossed the diamonds in the water. Now we couldn’t be tracked by Ezra.
I’d always known the risks of my work, but I had no choice but to live in the land of denial while convincing myself I was invincible. It was the only way to survive.
“Trackers?” Ryder asked.
At my nod, he untucked his shirt from his pants and swiftly worked the buttons free, then removed the starched material, exposing his rock-hard body.
He quietly wrapped his shirt around my shoulders and guided my arms through each sleeve before sitting beside me.
“Move out,” he ordered, hooking his arm around my back to keep me from going over the side.
I clutched the front of the shirt as reality caught up with me. Not the fact I’d almost died, but that my time with Ezra was over. I had a backup plan, but I’d honestly never expected to have to use it.
Instead of focusing on the Weekend at Bernie’s –looking guy sitting across from me, with his covered head bobbing forward, only staying upright because of the support of the men squeezing him in, I closed my eyes.
I listened to the soft hum of the engine as we moved farther and farther away from what had been my hell.
I didn’t open my eyes until Ryder announced, “We’re here.” I didn’t know where here was, but I already knew it’d be better than where I’d been before.
Eyes now on my valiant hero—who had stolen my breath earlier, then stolen those guards’ chance to steal my life—I allowed him to take my hand, and he held on to my shoes in the other.
“You’ll be safe staying with us,” he said, like a promise I so wished I could accept, as he helped me off the rubber boat.
Once on solid ground, the earth damp beneath my bare feet, I pulled my hand free of his touch, worried I’d never want to let go if I didn’t do it now.
He cleared his throat and gestured toward the house sitting a hundred feet away in total darkness. I trusted these men even if they were strangers and had a hostage with them. Enemy of my enemy had to be my friend and all mentality. My mantra these days.
Barefoot, I followed Ryder up the path and into the home. He flicked on the lights, walking us into what was once the living room. No furniture. Only duffel bags, a few rifles, and two laptops.
I tightened Ryder’s dress shirt around me like a robe as I watched two of the men drag the limp body into the hall and out of sight.
I situated my back to the empty wall, waiting for instructions.
Like how to breathe, walk, talk, and do all the things I’d been pretty great at up until three letters marked me for death: DEA .
Focusing back on the man who’d chosen to save my life, I tried listening to what he was saying to the other guy, but they were talking too low for me to make out much. Probably discussing what the hell to do with me.
With Ryder still shirtless, my gaze traveled over his strong back muscles as they pinched together. While he had no tattoos anywhere I could see, he was marked by something else—scars. A few here and there to indicate he’d been hurt, maybe even shot, at some point in his life.
He dropped my shoes onto the floor alongside him and rested his hands on his hips, talking in a hushed tone with the other guy.
Curiosity propelled me to go ahead and cut to it. “Are you government?” I asked.
Ryder’s hands went to his sides, and he slowly turned to face me; his friend took that as his cue to leave.
“We’re private contractors, of sorts.” He closed the space between us, swallowing it up in three long strides.
“Why was your boss planning to hurt you? Was it my fault? Did he find out we were alone together?” Worry crowded his face.
Then guilt and a little blame. All the things he didn’t need to feel or think.
I quickly shut it down. “Nothing to do with you.” I eliminated the last bit of space between us while releasing hold of the shirt.
“Then why?” His determination to get to the truth that I wasn’t ready to give was about to be a problem.
The less you know, the better. “Ezra was upset about something.” That was probably too vague. He thought I willingly worked for a criminal, so why would he trust me?
The problem was, I still didn’t know exactly why he’d been at the party or what he wanted with that unconscious man. All I knew was that I was unharmed and alive because of him.
Ezra had to be looking for me, though. Losing his mind that I got away, knowing how much I knew about his business. He’d hate more than anything that I’d bested him, and he’d never want anyone to know that truth. That I’d deceived him for over nine months.
“And you don’t want to tell me why, I take it?” Ryder broke through my thoughts with an appropriate follow-up to my response.
“No.” Simple, but hopefully an effective answer.
“If I hadn’t been there, would you—”
“Have died?” I finished for him. “More than likely, but I guess God had other plans for me and sent you.”
Ryder closed his eyes, his jaw visibly straining. As much as I wanted to unleash the truth on him, then let those big arms of his swallow me up into a hug, that wouldn’t eliminate my problems. It’d only land him in the middle of them.
Ryder opened his eyes, his expression softening. “We should talk, though, don’t you think?”
Talk. Such a big word for four letters. “Sure, would you like to know my favorite book? Movie? Pastime? Or maybe how I help myself fall asleep at night?” I let a small smile pull at the edges of my lips, hoping my mild teasing to evade the seriousness would buy me a little time.
Like time to imprint the harsh reminder in my head as to why I shouldn’t open up.
“I’m fairly decent at deflecting myself.
” He caught me off guard when he reached between us, drawing his finger under my chin, urging my eyes on him.
My heart raced as he tipped his head, eyeing my mouth as my lips parted in auto-response.
“Tell me your name.” The rough texture of his words nearly slipped past my defenses.
“Maybe later?” Don’t press, please. I just might spill every ounce of truth inside me.
Brows tightening, he continued to study me to the point I was worried he’d be able to read my thoughts without me ever opening my mouth.
Despite everything that’d happened tonight, like the almost-being-defiled-and-dying part, how in the hell was my desire managing to push through, turning into an achy neediness in my stomach?
But when he wet his lips, I wet mine.
And when he stared at my mouth, I eyed his right back.
His blue-green eyes laid siege to mine next, so I fought to stake claim to his.
We mirrored and echoed one another, silently locked into this moment.
Almost dying wasn’t causing this, right? No, it’d started up on the balcony, and it’d grown into something so tangible I could reach out and touch it as if a feeling had actual mass.
“Ryder.” His name had come out like two puffs of erotic air instead of as two syllables.
“I, um ...” Need you to stop making me feel like this, or I’ll never do what needs to be done.
I kept that to myself, not ready for him to actually stop doing the thing, because the thing felt so good.
I could only imagine what would happen if he touched me beyond the finger beneath my chin.
He leaned in closer, so close we just might do it—lose our minds and kiss one another. It’d be a hell of a way to say goodbye.
But what if, afterward, I couldn’t walk away? I couldn’t let it be the kiss of death.
I flinched as the “anxious me” I’d kept buried inside my hard shell of “badassery,” which I’d worn like a suit of armor, reminded me that everyone died. They always did. So I immediately jerked away from him.
The hard wall of his chest inflated as his gaze pierced right through me. When he let go of a deep breath, a resigned sigh I doubted was from defeat fell from his mouth. Then he quietly went over to a bag in the center of the room.
He knelt, looking for something inside it, and I used the opportunity to pick up my shoes as I waited to see what he planned to do.
A few seconds later, he stood and faced me, holding clothes. “Maybe change first; then we can try the talking thing? We’ll start with your favorite book, then get to why Ezra planned to kill you.”
That’ll be quite the transition. “Sure.”
He frowned, more than likely reading the lie on my lips.
The hard work of pretending to be someone else for three-quarters of a year vanished in his presence.
I was simply me. The badass, the anxious one, and everything in between.
Mostly just safe, but safety was a short-lived experience I couldn’t get used to, since it would inevitably end.
“Second bedroom down the hall on your left has a bathroom in there. I need a few minutes with the guys; then we’ll do the talking thing.”
He handed me the clothes, and I cradled them under my arm, careful not to drop my heels.
“I’ll walk you there,” he said, as if worried I might find my way to a different door, like the exit. An uneasy smile crossed his face. “Don’t want you getting lost.”
Once I was inside the bedroom, he remained in the hall and parked a hand on the doorframe.
“Thank you again for saving me.” I nodded lightly, unable to meet his eyes this time, so I kept my focus on his rippling abs, doing my best not to get choked up over the fact I’d never see this man again. “I won’t ever forget what you did for me.”