Chapter 3
RYDER
I shove the door open, needing to escape. Tracker assigning me to desk jail is nothing compared to this. In fact, this reminds me of my training days when—
“Where are you going?” TJ’s voice hits my back, but I don’t give a shit.
He should know better than to follow me right now. I don’t stop, but he catches up, blocking my path.
“A kid?! You two are really funny.” I meet his gaze, and all amusement has vanished. “What is he thinking? He’s lost his damn mind. I didn’t follow orders, but I did exactly what he would have done! He knows it, and you know it!” I yell, jabbing a finger at him.
TJ doesn’t move a muscle, letting me get it out.
“Cole Matthews, really?” I stare at him.
I don’t know anything beyond what I learned in that room, but TJ damn well knew he wasn’t a kid. That’s what matters.
“Is this some kind of joke? Did you know it was twenty-four-hour protection?”
He releases the tiniest breath like his ass just got snagged.
I laugh, and it’s so full of sarcasm I practically see it slice through him. “Why is he doing this?”
TJ’s eyes flick between mine. “I’m not sure.” His usual gruff voice grows tender. “He told me this morning I was off, and you were on. That’s it.”
I inspect every inch of his face and find it’s the truth.
“My guess is because it’s. . .time.” His shoulders drop an inch. “You can do this, Ryder. You’re ready.”
My jaw clamps shut so tightly my teeth may shift. “You have no idea what I’m ready for.”
I push around him, needing time and space and a shit ton of therapy if I’ll survive this.
_______
I step inside the cream-colored stucco house with a fresh cup of coffee, chewing the last bite of my blueberry muffin. The gated home sits on a large plot of land on the outskirts of Miami. It’s secluded and quiet, with the security of Fort Knox.
It’s a refuge for lost souls wounded beyond repair. A safe haven that will never heal all that’s broken inside, but a place to start for those willing to fight. We call it The Oasis.
I pause at the words painted on the wall over the doorway.
She had not known the weight until she felt the freedom .—
N. Hawthrone
There was a time when I couldn’t fathom their meaning. I carry the weight and find the freedom despite it. If I can do that for another, all the pain will be worth it.
I inhale and blow it out slowly, having spent the last two hours at the gym, releasing the rage threatening to consume me. What was rage is now confusion. I don’t know why Tracker is assigning me to Cole Matthews, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll do it, and he knows it. There’s no backing down.
A woman descends the stairs, balancing a toddler on her hip and holding a little boy’s hand. Her smile is weak. “Hey, Ryder.”
“Hi, Sandy. How’s this little doll?” I squeeze the girl’s chubby foot.
“She’s settling in.”
“Good.” I smile, dropping to a squat in front of the boy. “How about you? Have you been finding all the trucks in the toy room?”
He only nods, curling into his mom’s leg.
Sandy showed up in the middle of the night a week ago with a black eye, a split lip, and a broken hand.
“We’re helping out in the kitchen, aren’t we?” She runs her splinted hand over his head. “You staying for lunch?”
I shake my head. “Not today.”
I check in and visit the women and children as often as I can, but soon, that will be less frequent.
“I’m heading out on an assignment. I’ll be around, but probably not as much. Take good care of yourself, ok?” I meet her eyes, knowing more than likely, she’ll end up back with the person she sought safety from.
She nods shyly, and I follow her down the hall. She disappears into the kitchen, and I continue on to the room at the back of the house.
I knock lightly, entering. These walls could weep with my darkest secrets and deepest pains. The kind that never stops hurting, wanting to destroy, and threatening to take me hostage once again.
Kerry spins away from the computer. “I’m happy to see you.”
Kerry is our resident therapist. This woman has X-ray vision. She sees and senses everything, including the things we like to keep locked up tight, never to see the light of day again.
I force a smile, closing the door, both of us knowing that even if I had a choice, I’d still be here.
She grabs a small Styrofoam to-go container off her desk. “Care if I eat while we chat?”
I tuck myself into the brown rocker-recliner as if it’s possible to hide from this woman.
“You hungry?” She scoots closer, holding out the box containing steamed bean pods.
“Nah.” I set my paper cup on the table beside me. “I had a muffin, and I’m taking in extra caffeine since I missed my morning dose.”
“Tell me about this new assignment,” Kerry jumps right in, not wasting a second of our allotted time, and it makes me laugh.
“Tracker or TJ?” I know Tracker filled her in on the details, probably even before I arrived at the office this morning.
She raises an eyebrow. “Those men love you.” I notice she doesn’t answer. “How’s the shoulder?” She caught my deflection and puts things in reverse.
I try to get comfortable, although nothing about this will be. “Sore, but it’s just pain.”
She nods, knowing exactly what I mean. “How’s your aim? Can you hold it and hit the target?”
I’m not sure I should admit I’ve been trying, but I’m not into lying to Kerry. “I’d make my mark.”
She bites into a pod and pushes the beans into her mouth. “Think you’ll need to?”
We’re back to the assignment.
“Not sure. I’ve got to get in there and find out what’s really going on. Apparently, he’s a big deal, and someone wants to knock him down a few notches.”
She stops chewing and studies me. “What’s your bead on him?”
“He’s not a sicko.”
“He’s a handsome fella, and you’ll be living with him. How do you feel about that?” Her question is soooo nonchalant, but we both know we’re stumbling into critical and guarded territory.
I could try to fake it, but she’ll see straight through me, so I don’t even bother.
“Scared shitless. I want to demand a lock on my door, a soundproof room in case I have nightmares, and make damn sure he understands that if he even looks at me that way, he’ll long for the days when he could toss a ball.”
She laughs. “Well, where do I even start with that?”
My smile loosens a little this time. “I’ll start sleeping with my Sig. That’ll help, but. . . ”
Here’s the thing I don’t want to admit out loud. I’m a twenty-four-year-old woman, and this admission hurts when I don’t want it to.
I inhale slowly, my ribcage aching with tension, and it’s painful. “I don’t know how to live with a man,” I say quietly, hoping the truth won’t permeate these walls and seep past them.
Her head falls to the side, and the sincerity and empathy I see there make me squeeze my stomach muscles tight so I can focus on the physical pain instead.
Tracker and TJ are one thing. They don’t count. Cole Matthews is something else entirely.
“I can run miles and miles. I can take down just about anyone, and if not, I sure as hell can fight. I could win a shooting contest, but. . .this. . . ”
She wipes her mouth with a napkin and sets her food aside. I ready myself because whatever is coming is what I’m here for. It’s the armor I’ll surround myself with that will get me through this assignment and allow me to do my job.
She eases back into her chair, settling in and likely trying to transfer that comfort to me. It’s not working.
“What if you ask him for a deadbolt on your door?”
I ponder her question, fully aware that if I lock myself in, I can’t protect him.
“What if he hears you cry out in your sleep?”
I can’t think about that one.
She leans forward a little. “What if he thinks you being in his space entitles him to more than you standing at his side, making sure his privileged behind doesn’t get taken out?”
“His stalker will lose this game. I’ll bust a cap at his ass so fast. . . ”
She chuckles but then waits, wanting the deeper answer. The real answer.
I groan internally, knowing I have to dig in a box I keep closed.
I suck in air and force it out. “This is a job. I don’t want to get any sort of personal with this guy. It’s putting me in a very vulnerable situation, and you know how I feel about that.”
She smiles, liking the truth. “What if it’s not as painful as you think?
” Her brows pinch together. “Look how far you’ve come.
You set down all those layers daily for the women and children who enter this house.
He’s just a man. You know he’s not a sicko.
What if he sees more than you’d ever willingly show him?
” Her eyebrows lift, wanting me to consider it, while fully aware I’d give that a big no thank you.
She picks up her other Styrofoam container. “Why don’t you tell Tracker you’re not doing this assignment? TJ could take this one. Although it might take him longer.” One side of her mouth curls upward. “You’re still healing. You wouldn’t have to worry about any of this other stuff.”
She fills her fork with rice and vegetables and chews.
“I want to figure out who’s doing this and take them down. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m made for.”
“TJ can do that.”
Damn her and her quick retort.
I stare at her, searching, trying to sift through my nerves and determination to get to the root of it.
Finding it deep within and scared to say it, I take a breath, feeling a burn crawl up my throat that I loathe.
“Because I’m sick and tired of being afraid, of letting my past dictate what I’m capable of. I want to find this fucker and then get back to my life.”
She grins. “Nothing like finally having had enough. You’ll be just fine, Ryder. And if you’re not, you know where to find me. I’m not going anywhere.”
I swallow, not letting the tears fill my eyes. She sees it, but lets me off this time.
She sets her food in her lap, her gentle gaze holding mine. “Just remember, it’s ok to let yourself be happy when you feel it.”
She stares at me as if she knows something I don’t, and I’ve seriously had enough of that today.