Chapter 6
RYDER
“How long have you had this?” I run my fingers over the keypad, inspecting the worn numbers.
“I. . . Since I moved in.”
My gaze lifts to his subconsciously. I’ve got more work ahead of me than I anticipated.
I arrived ten minutes ago and got straight to work. Work means no time for nerves, and I need to shove those boys the hell out of the way while I figure out how this will be. Cole Matthews and me—roomies.
I kick my suitcases aside and close the door to survey the space.
Matthews stands, his hands in his pockets, watching me.
I ignore his gaze and the way it’s tracking me.
If there’s an arrogant, narcissistic side to this man, I’m waiting with a giant mallet for that weasel to pop its big, ugly head out.
We’ll get that bit sorted out real quick.
I tug open the sliding glass door and test the lock. This apartment is more like a penthouse, complete with an unobstructed million-dollar view that, fortunately, doesn’t allow opportunities for threats to gain visibility inside.
I step out onto the large balcony, containing outdoor furniture that’s probably more comfortable than my bed. Cole follows.
“Have you noticed any drones? Seems that might be the biggest threat out here.”
“No, but I can’t say I’ve really paid attention.” His tone is confidently relaxed, and some part of that irritates the hell out of me.
He rests his long, lean, muscular arms on the railing and stares out at the blue water.
Instead of jeans and a polo, he’s wearing a T-shirt and athletic shorts.
I’m at least happy to find there aren’t formal dress requirements.
That would have been the final straw. I’d be calling Tracker and handing in my resignation.
His short dark brown hair is damp as if he recently showered, but his face is covered in a slight five o’clock shadow.
I recall what Lyla said about women fighting for his attention.
He’s strikingly handsome, clearly loaded, and I now know he’s predicted to be one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL.
I understand why he’d be a target for the female population.
It all makes me curious why he isn’t currently in a relationship.
I make a mental note to address visitors and sleepovers when I lay out the rules.
His attention falls back on me. “I don’t spend much time out here. Is that something we need to worry about?”
I ignore his question, turning to face inside and resting my back against the thick metal rail.
The space is spotless. The tile and countertops shine.
It’s minimally decorated, and everything is in its place.
Not a piece of mail, a dirty bowl, or a random shoe to be found.
Tracker is obsessive about keeping things neat and tidy, but this brings things to a whole other level.
“Do you even live here?” It comes out more of a grumble than I intended as I stare at all the glass, where not a fingerprint could be dusted.
“What?” His head snaps in my direction, and it almost makes me smile. Almost. I keep that shit locked down. There’s no room for that here.
“This place is. . . I could eat my dinner off the floor.”
He frowns, and then slowly, I see the crease between his bright blue eyes disappear. He glances over his shoulder, surveying the space, and I wonder if this is what home feels like to him—stark, cold, and spotless. For some reason, that doesn’t make sense.
One corner of his mouth ticks upward. “Will we be doing that? Closing all the curtains, living in the dark, and eating on the floor to make it seem like we aren’t home?”
We. That tiny word has my stomach smacking itself around in retaliation for letting Tracker dare me into doing this.
I angle my head to study him as I consider his question.
Cole Matthews has a sense of humor, and it causes a rogue group of nerves to attempt to fall back. Not on my watch. I command those bad boys right back to the front line, keeping my defenses in place.
I’ll do this even if it kills me.
I push off the railing, letting out a breath as my stomach recoils with the tiniest bit of relief.
Work. It’s time to get back to it.
“Come on, Matthews, show me the rest of your immaculate living space. I’ll let you know in a minute what level of hiding out is necessary.”
I think I hear a chuckle as I head back inside. I slide the large door closed and then draw the massive sheer curtains. Extra privacy can’t hurt.
I follow Cole upstairs to his workout room, which contains everything a gym rat could wish for. Across the hall are two fully furnished bedrooms.
I glance around, noting the windows don’t appear to be a security risk.
He clears his throat. “Uh, so you can have your pick. The bathrooms are…”
I turn in the doorway, facing the workout equipment. “Where’s your room?”
“Downstairs.” He scratches his chin.
Nervous tell? Inconclusive.
“I can show you. There’s another bedroom down the hall from it, but I figured—” He doesn’t finish telling me what he figured when I start down the stairs.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. . .shit!
It was all fine until he just had to say there was a bedroom near his. I would have been perfectly happy to keep our living quarters at a distance, but then I can’t freaking do my job of making sure he doesn’t get his ass popped in the middle of the night.
Off the main living space is a hallway directly across from the front door.
Yep. Great. Just. Freaking. Great.
I follow Cole, and he stops outside his room. It’s large, with a king-size bed and a massive flatscreen hanging on the opposite wall. Another set of glass panels is covered by more sheer curtains.
Unsurprisingly, the bed is made and wrinkle-free. The only evidence that a person lives here is a sweatshirt draped over a chair in the corner, along with a water bottle, an iPad, a video game controller, and a partially completed sudoku puzzle on his nightstand.
I have no doubt this man is going to have a hard time dealing with the little messes I’ll leave behind. Oh well, I guess we’ll just live in the painful torture of each other’s company.
I check the lock on the door leading to a small balcony, noticing the masculine, clean scent wafting around me. It’s subtle, not overpowering, as if he marinates in it regularly. I peek into his bathroom, which is, gasp, clean except for a few male products on the counter.
Cole leans against the doorway, not having a care in the world.
My annoyance meter spikes higher.
“Want to see the inside of my closet, too?” His mouth curls with amusement.
I stare at him.
How in the hell is he acting like this is no big deal?
He’s. . .teasing me.
When I don’t respond, his smile creeps a little higher. “I can promise you, it’s likely the least entertaining closet you’ve ever seen.”
I rest my hands on my hips but drop them when my shoulder pinches.
I need something to feel the least bit normal.
The only thing I can pull out of my bag of tricks at the moment is sarcasm.
So, I go with it, hoping Cole Matthews can handle a smartass.
Otherwise, this will be one hell of an excruciatingly long assignment.
I cock my head to the side. “No bodies, drug paraphernalia, fetishes, obscenities, or habits other than obsessive cleanliness, I should be aware of?”
His eyes crinkle in the corners, and he huffs a laugh as he returns to the hallway. “Ryder, you’ll find I’m extremely boring.”
Great. Boring and I get along like fire and water.
A few steps away is another fully furnished bedroom with an attached bathroom. It’s only slightly larger than those upstairs, but it doesn’t matter. This will be my room. Just. Across. The Hall.
Fabulous. Maybe I can sleep on the couch. That is, if I actually sleep. Ever.
I glance around the doorway, not needing to explore further. Home. This is my new home for who knows how long. Hopefully, soon enough, I’ll get a handle on how serious these threats are and maybe even get inside them.
“I’ll take this one.”
Cole’s dark eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You don’t want—”
“I’m here to protect you. As much as I’d like us to have as much space as possible. . . ” I step back into the hall, and he follows. I point to the door. “This is a direct line to you. If I’m upstairs, I can’t do my job if someone enters. Here, they have to get past me first.”
He ponders it for a second and then rubs his forehead. “Is that. . . Do you think that’s a real possibility?”
I stare at him. His tone sounds a bit too skeptical for my liking. I can’t tell if his question is based on ignorance or arrogance.
I get he’d like his own space in his massively tidy penthouse. But it’s time he understands that sometimes bad things do happen, no matter how much money you have or how great you are at throwing a ball.
My stance stiffens as one hand instinctively grips the fingers of the other hand in front of me. “I haven’t fully assessed the likelihood of that happening. I’m being paid to make sure it doesn’t.”
His blue eyes, the bluest I’ve ever seen, flick between mine as he pulls his shoulders back, straightening.
“I don’t take chances with someone’s safety, and I expect you to take these threats as seriously as I do if you don’t want them to become a reality. And for me, failing isn’t an option.”
He nods slightly, his shoulders dropping a quarter of an inch. “Sure. I understand.”
I step back, heading to the kitchen, wanting to get away from the bedrooms and the impending reality of us sleeping mere feet from each other.
I pull out a stool stowed under the ledge of his large marble island, sitting in the center of his kitchen. Cole remains standing, leaning against the counter opposite me like he’s waiting for his next set of orders.
“I need your help getting to the bottom of this. The more you can give me, hopefully, the quicker you’ll be free of this mess.
We need to understand who could be targeting you, how close they are, and what they really want.
They might truly be trying to get under your skin or shake you up, but there’s always a level of powerplay involved.
I need to know how deep that desire for power runs. ”
He braces his hands on the edge of the counter. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. I keep my life pretty simple.” His eyes remain on me, but seriousness has invaded them.
Finally, he seems to be settling into this thing with me.
“You want your life back?” I ask, needing confirmation and commitment. “Someone is irritated. They’re spending a lot of time planning, following you, and risking being caught to get your attention. They’ve got it. They’re out there. Waiting. We need to outsmart them at their own game.”
This is how I roll. If some jackass attempts to hurt someone else, I’m coming for them, and I need Cole Matthews to get on board.
He may play football, but I hunt evil.
I lift my chin, meaning business. “You ready to get to work?”
One side of his mouth tips up, but uncertainty prevents it from creeping too high. “Were you in the military?”
His self-assured demeanor makes me want to puke. I have no idea what is amusing about this, and I don’t care. I have work to do, so I can go home.
I stare straight into his confident eyes. “Something like that.”
His eyes flick between mine, all joking slowly falling to the wayside.
Now, he’s getting the idea.
“You need to explain what tomorrow looks like. We’ll begin creating a map to identify potential suspects. Then, we’ll go over the rules.”
He leans, resting his elbows on the island as I pull my phone out.
“All right. Let’s start with your schedule.”