Chapter 21 Ryker
Ryker
PRESENT
Technically, I’m not stalking.
I’m not one of those guys. Not with Gianna.
I don’t want her to just sense me close by, wondering when I’ll emerge out of the shadows.
I want her to suffer the sting of our pull, to taste her own surrender right before she breaks.
Experience the pulse between her ribs that isn’t her own heartbeat, but something more. I want her to see what’s coming.
It’s not stalking because I know where Gianna lives, since I escorted her home after she became a trembling mess at the sight of that cursed silver mask on the vet clinic’s doorstep.
It’s also technically not a break and enter if the front door is unlocked.
Besides, between learning that the Mustang is being targeted and chasing that fucker in the trench coat, I need to make sure she’s safe.
I twist the brass handle and step inside, instantly smacked in the face by her scent.
On a small table, a diffuser wafts jasmine and vanilla into the air.
Over the soft click of the door shutting behind me I hear the clacking of toenails against tiles.
Chuckie appears and jumps all over me, his wild, wagging tail smacking into the wall.
‘Gianna?’ I call out, leaning down to give Chuckie a rough pat.
No answer.
The soft melody of ‘Moonshadow’ emits from the record player in the corner of her living room. The large window has the starlight filtering through, and her lamps blanket the space in an orange hue.
I look back down at Chuckie. ‘Where’s my baby, huh?’
He leads the way through the kitchen. The clicking of his nails stops when we reach the carpeted space of Gianna’s bedroom.
Her bed’s unmade, the palm-tree-patterned duvet a twisted mess.
I don’t even stop myself, straightening the fabric out and inhaling deeply, because I can’t help but fill my lungs with her.
On the floor is the skirt she was wearing at Paws on the Coast. A hint of paper peeks out through the pocket. I open the scrunched-up note and see an address scrawled in black ink. It’s the address of the drift race. This is the paper that blond fucker slipped her.
I pocket the note before continuing to follow Chuckie to a closed door, the sound of a shower running behind it. And there’s the gentle hum of Gianna’s voice as she murmurs a few lyrics.
I should leave. I only came to make sure she was okay, and things seem fine.
But my feet are frozen.
I listen until Gianna’s humming fades, and I instantly feel her absence. I press my ear to the wall, willing her to start again. Then I’m hit with something better: a gentle moan.
‘Fuck,’ I mumble, my senses on high alert. ‘No fucking way.’
I can’t believe my luck. Maybe I heard wrong. Then another moan. I drag my hands down my face. Gianna’s whimpers and the thought of her dripping wet and naked set my blood on fire.
My cock is already rock hard.
I’m about to step back, I really am. Because I meant it when I said I want her to see me. I’m not a fucking stalker.
Then my favourite word passes through her lips in a whispered moan. ‘Ryker.’
Well, fuck me.
Every cell in my body blazes an inferno, screaming with want. No, with need. And the thing is, when she calls, I come.
I fling the door open, its bang against the wall drowned out by her shriek. If I thought I loved the sound of her singing, I’m mesmerised by the sound of her scream.
‘Ryker, what the hell?’ Gianna scrambles with the faucets, cutting off the water before reaching for the towel that’s flung over the glass. Even though the condensation clouds the view of her perfect little body, I still curse that there’s even more in the way.
She steps out of the shower, securing the towel around herself. Small puddles collect underneath her feet as she tilts her pretty face back. I push hair away from her face to see the defiance in her eyes.
I keep my tone low. ‘It’s a magical thing when what you imagine in your mind lines up so perfectly with reality.’
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she squeaks.
‘I wanted to check on you.’
‘Check on me?’ she snaps. ‘You’ve broken into my house!’
‘Don’t get your panties in a twist again, Little Suspect. The door was unlocked. I told you to start locking things behind you.’ I lean against her marble basin. ‘You were taking forever in that shower.’
A little burst of pink flushes up her neck and into her cheeks, and Christ, I want to eat it up.
‘You know I’ll always come if you call me.’ I smile.
‘I did not call you.’ She storms past me to her bedroom dresser, wrenching it open to rummage about.
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘You moaned for me.’
Her movements falter before she whips around. ‘I could kill you.’
My brows rise. ‘Kinky.’
Her eyes flicker to a selenite crystal tower perched on a shelf. I still know her well enough to realise she might make good on her threat and throw it at my head.
‘What do you want from me?’ she asks, giving me a heated gaze that I happily return.
‘Everything.’
‘You can’t have it.’
‘I will.’ I step closer until her dainty fingers reach up to halt my movements.
‘Can you not?’ Her fingers tremble. ‘You suck up all my air when you get this close. I—’
‘You think you don’t do the same to me?’ I retort. ‘You think it’s easy for me to breathe when you’re around?’
Her lips part, a slow stream of air escaping them. I bite down on my tongue just to occupy my teeth with something other than the thought of taking her lips between them.
‘I don’t understand what this is.’ She points between us. ‘Why are you here?’
Sighing, I reach into my back pocket, remembering there’s more at risk here. Back to business. ‘Where’s the Mustang? It’s not out front.’
‘I resprayed the panels today. It’s at the garage, curing.’
‘Great. Next issue.’ Pulling out the piece of paper, I smooth it against the dresser. ‘I need to know who gave this to you.’
I need to know if the blond guy I saw is Landon. Or Erik.
She snatches the paper and crumples it in her hands, attempting to dismiss me.
My fingers wrap around her bicep. ‘Gianna, I need a name.’
‘It’s not your concern.’
‘I’m not fucking around, Gianna. I need his name.’
‘Dang. Alright.’ She shuffles out of my hold. ‘I don’t know what’s gotten your panties in a twist, coming into my home like this. FYI, you’re proving the point I was making at the speedway. This is the monster I was talking about.’
She can call me, and this surge of protectiveness, whatever she wants. It doesn’t matter to me – all that matters is that she’s safe and to do that I need her to be honest.
‘Do you trust me?’ I ask.
She flinches, like I’ve just cursed her out. The movement is jarring. Is that what this is? Has she really lost trust in me? Her words from the speedway float around in my mind. You left me.
I step forward, slowly reaching for her shoulders, letting my fingers softly wrap around her skin.
‘I know I left, Gianna.’ I keep my eyes locked with hers. ‘I left Booker Bay, but I didn’t leave you. I need you to understand that. Do you still trust me?’
She looks uncertain, and for the first time, I can’t put my finger on what she’s thinking. Then I feel her shoulders relax.
‘The guy’s name is Landon.’ She finally lets out.
‘What’s he look like?’
‘Blond. Annoying. Wears ugly boat shoes.’
I know he’s blond, but that’s the fucking extent of it. I’ve never got a good look at his face. I need more information before I can know for sure. ‘What else?’
She shifts on the spot, battling with something. There’s a second where I think she’s going to open up, tell me the truth. Then she shakes her head.
‘I don’t know … why is this important?’ she groans. ‘You need to leave. I have an early morning.’
I step forward, cupping her face in my hands. ‘Please, baby. I need you to tell me, and I need you to be specific. Is Landon someone you’ve seen before, or did he mention anyone he might be working for?’
She shakes her head. ‘No.’
She’s telling the truth.
‘Then what does he look like?’
‘There’s nothing else distinctive about him.’ She closes her eyes. ‘But I do need to tell you something.’
Finally.
‘Landon’s who I lost my money to in the race I was telling Mr F about.’
‘I know.’
Her jaw drops and her eyes pop open as she lets out a scoff. ‘Of course you do. But there’s more. Before the race, I wanted to see if Landon had tuned up the Civic, so I broke into Midnight Spares, which is a—’
‘A chop shop in EC.’
She holds her towel with one hand, cocking the other on her hip. ‘If you already know all of this, why do you need to hear it from me?’
I brush off her remark, plopping my ass on the bed. ‘Go on.’
‘Landon came back while I was there. I stayed hidden but the Porsche, the one that Alexander brought into the shop – they’d stolen it that night.
The shop is full of all these stolen classics.
Then I heard …’ She pauses. ‘Ryker, if I tell you this, you need to promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Not with Dellenty on your ass.’
‘Dellenty?’ Her sudden outburst and change of subject has me confused as fuck. ‘He’s the least of my fucking worries. Spit it out, Gianna.’
‘I heard Landon say he’s got eyes on the Mustang.’
‘So why’d you still turn up for the race?’
‘I thought I could make a deal with him and get him out of town. I needed him to know that he’ll never have our car. That I was onto him. And you know what, I think it’s worked, because I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘Sweetheart,’ I say gently, ‘you haven’t heard from him because he’s already got all your money.’
‘But he hasn’t come anywhere near the Mustang.’
‘Not yet.’ I run a hand down my face, ‘but leaving your door open isn’t exactly a deterrent. You need to be more careful. I’m serious. Lock the door.’
‘I have Chuckie.’
I shoot her a dry look.
‘Alright,’ she caves. ‘I’ll start locking the door.’
‘Thank you.’
Am I actually thanking my girl for locking her own door? For taking her own safety seriously? Yes. Because as much as I look out for her, as much as I know Chuckie would tear apart any sorry fuck who comes near her, I need her to look out for herself.