Close to the Vest – Ryder
Close to the Vest
Ryder
Several hours later
Delete security footage from Walmart cameras
Run the license plate from Kylie’s car
Handle truck driver’s disloyalty
Figure out how the hell I missed Autumn’s past
M y mental to-do list is usually addressed in order, but I’m making an exception today.
I can count the number of times that someone has surprised me on one hand, and Autumn is responsible for all three occurrences.
Any other employee would be dealt with harshly for even thinking to request time off, but I can’t help shielding her from some of the darkness. For now.
Pressing play on her detainment from Canada, I watch as two guards escort her into a cold interrogation room.
The walls are painted cinderblock grey, the only light a buzzing fluorescent that casts a harsh strobe across her face. A single plastic chair waits for her under its spotlight, and the air feels sterile—even through the screen.
She walks in slowly, staring blankly at the wall, her expression unreadable.
“It is best if you sit here and say nothing,” the lead guard says in French. “Our detectives will be with you shortly.”
“Please, wait,” she says, her voice soft but precise in perfect French. “Can’t you at least tell me what I’ve done?”
“Shut up.” He glares at her. “Just shut up.”
The brunette guard sets a plastic bag on the metal table in front of her—wads of U.S. and Canadian currency crammed inside like trash.
“This is all fake,” she says. “And we know you were the one who created these. It’s best if you shut the fuck up until your representative arrives.”
The guards abandon her without another word.
Autumn leans forward and picks up the bag. Slowly, she pulls out the bills one by one, inspecting them—not with guilt, but curiosity. She runs her thumb across the ink like she’s testing its authenticity herself.
Then, she sets the bills down and wipes her eyes—but no tears fall. Her posture straightens, spine rigid, fingers still.
And then she does it.
She lifts her gaze directly to the security camera.
Not a glance. Not a twitch.
A long, unwavering stare that lasts far too long to be accidental. Her lips part, just slightly, like she’s daring the watcher—me—to flinch.
My pulse kicks.
I rewind it, watching it again, slower this time, and my phone buzzes on the desk.
My Heart
Where are you? :-(
In my office.
I don’t want to practice with Miss Hannah this morning… Why did you ask her to come here?
Because you decided to fly home on short notice… You still need to practice.
I asked her to go home early. Is that okay?
No.
I set down my phone and sigh.
“Come in, Adeline,” I say, sensing that she’s right outside my door.
The door creaks open, and her leather shoes peek through with her violin. Then she smiles at me like she hasn’t done anything wrong, like her being home is completely normal.
“I pay Miss Liane a very good salary to keep an eye on you whenever you come home,” I say. “You’re not in charge of when she comes and goes.”
“I know.”
“And I put you in the best school for musicians so you can learn from the best,” I say. “You can’t learn when you’re here.”
“Why can’t you teach me?”
“Because you’re a far better player than I ever was, or I’ll ever be,” I say, meaning every word of that. “You need to be with people who can dedicate all their time to you.”
“I’m just asking you to listen to me play for a few hours.” Her eyes meet mine, and the guilt immediately hits my chest.
The rest of my list can wait.
For now.
“You can have my entire afternoon.” I motion for her to position her bow. “I’m listening.”
“Thank you.” She smiles, then glances at the freeze-frame of Autumn’s video on my laptop. “Is Miss Jane a real employee or…”
“Or what?”
“A girlfriend?” She beams. “I think you like her.”
“Start your piece, Adeline.”
She sets her bow, then pauses. “Is Miss Jane going to disappear like the other lady?”
I still, my fingers curling slightly. “Play, Adeline. Now…”
That evening
I tuck what little softness I have under my coat and step in front of an abandoned row of warehouses outside the city.
With a perfect view of the ocean, it’s flanked by a spaghetti restaurant that never serves customers and a bank that never accepts deposits.
It’s where I always watch the final descent of the plane that carries Adeline. It’s also where I have to deal with unfortunate things like this…
Walking through the side doors with four of my men behind me, I head into an open freezer.
The truck driver who recently stole from me—Austin Blaine—is sitting in a steel chair, surrounded by hanging meat.
“I guess I’d be trembling if I were in your shoes,” I say. “Especially if I’d given secrets about my boss to his rival in Miami—not to mention stealing from him.”
“What?” His face pales. “No, sir. I would never.”
“You would, and you did,” I say. “It’s the only way they could’ve known about my new courier and where she would be.”
“I swear.” He swallows. “I didn’t talk. I didn’t say anything about her.”
“This isn’t up for debate.” I walk over to him. “I have all the evidence, but I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll let you choose how you want me to handle this.”
“I really didn’t say anything.”
“You can go six feet under today, vanishing without anyone ever discovering your body, or you can vanish slowly and painfully. Same outcome. Different timeline.”
“They’re expecting a call from me.”
“Oh? Who is they ?”
He sucks in an unsteady breath, shivering as the freezer’s vents blow directly against him.
“I don’t appreciate it when I have to repeat myself.” I pull out my phone and adjust the temperature control—lowering it from zero degrees to negative twenty degrees.
The vents blow harder and harsher, and a couple of my men exchange glances.
“You have five seconds to answer my question,” I warn. “You know I hate waiting.”
“Rush Banks.” The words rush out of his lips, and my blood runs cold at the sound of that name.
“It was him and his team, sir,” he continues, his teeth chattering. “I’m sorry.”
“Because you got caught, I’m sure.”
“I only told them what they already know. Nothing more, nothing less.”
“I see.” I lower the temperature again. “If it were just me, I’d care a lot less. But you brought someone I like into this. And you could’ve gotten her killed.”
“No, they promised it was just a ransom.”
I raise an eyebrow, debating whether I should end him here and now. “I had to lie to her and say they were journalists,” I say. “Because if she knew the truth, she’d probably never talk to me again.”
“Sir—”
“I even had to keep a straight face when I told her I only intended to ‘hurt’ them,” I say. “You made me lie to her twice.”
“Sir, please…”
“If I hadn’t caught on to what you did, they could’ve followed her to New York. They could’ve found my daughter.”
“ Daughter ?”
“There were condoms in the trunk.” I grit my teeth. “Duct tape. Weapons. Rope… They lied to you like you lied to me.”
It takes everything in me not to snap his neck on the spot.
“How much did they pay you for the intel? Was it more than the money you stole from me?” I step closer. His mouth moves, but no words fall.
“Tick-tock, Austin. The longer you stall, the worse this ends.”
“Five hundred thousand.”
“I would’ve given you that.”
“I’ll work it all back for the rest of my life to show you how sorry I really am… Please just let me go.”
“Come again?” I raise an eyebrow.
“Please let me go,” he pleads. “I won’t tell Rush Banks anything else, and I’ll never contact him again.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“I swear.”
“Well, since you’ve presented me with such an amazing offer, I guess I have no choice but to agree to your terms.”
My men shoot me a confused look.
“Let’s go,” I say, motioning to the door. “You heard what the man said.”
“Sir, he stole?—”
“I know that.” I check my watch. “And since he insists on being let go—meaning, us leaving him here, we’ll do that. Until he crosses my mind again, which—given how I treat betrayal—could be six months. Or never.”
“No, wait.” Austin’s eyes widen. “That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Has to be,” I say. “You can’t be stupid enough to think I’d let you out of here alive.”
“I didn’t spend a dime of your money, and I didn’t know you had a daughter. If I did, I would’ve never…”
I walk away amid his failed pleas and they lock the warehouse behind me.
“Does he have any family or friends who may ask questions?” I ask.
“An ex-girlfriend he owes money to.”
“Remind me of that three months from now when we return,” I say. “Give me the key.”
“Wait…” One of my men hesitates. “We’re just going to leave him in there?”
“Is someone asking me a question?” I turn to look at the man who asked it, certain I’m mishearing things.
“I, uh…” He swallows. “No, I just wanted clarification on whether we were leaving him or if we needed to do something else.”
I glance at Chester, confused.
“He didn’t mean to ask you anything,” Chester says. “It’s his first day at this new promoted position.”
“It’ll be his last if he thinks about asking another one.” I narrow my eyes at the guy. “Give me the fucking key.”
He obliges, and I run my finger along its edge. Then I toss it over the bridge.
“Nine days from now, call 9-1-1 about his body,” I say.
A chorus of “Yes, sir” follows, and I wait for them to return to their cars—to get away from me and Chester.
“Your father would be extremely proud of you,” he says. “Actually, he might also be quite terrified of you if he were here.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“It’s both.” He checks his watch. “If you’re going to handle the rest of your list, there’s a window tomorrow—but it depends.”
“On what?”
“How serious you are about giving Miss Jane a full two weeks off.”
“I’m still considering it.”
“Well, you might want to speed up that process because she might be out of your reach by then.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Check your phone.”
I pull it out and unlock the screen, seeing a new alert glowing.
One-way flight confirmation: Autumn Jane.
For this Friday.
End of Episode 11