17. Penny
Penny
The next few days, Ryder leaves me alone, not asking anything of me while I’m recovering.
The times he is at home, he barely says a word and hardly ever looks at me.
I don’t know if it’s because he is mad or because he finds me so repulsive this way.
Every time I look in the mirror, I assume it’s the latter.
The swelling has mostly gone away now, but the purple and black bruises have now turned to an ugly yellow-brown color.
Then there is what Ryder told me that night in his bed. Tommy is dead. I didn’t need to ask him if it was true. I knew as soon as he told me it was. I felt it—an enormous weight lifted off my shoulders.
I want to ask him how it happened, but I’m too scared of the answer. I’m positive Ryder had something to do with it. He probably sent one of his guys to do it. I can’t bring myself to feel sorry for Tommy after everything he did to me. He deserved it.
Maybe that makes me a terrible person. Being glad that someone is dead seems like a horrible thing to do. I can’t help it though, instead of remorse, I only feel… free.
Even with Ryder acting weird like this, I’m more than thankful for him letting me stay here.
After I left Tommy and went to the women’s shelter, I could never get a good night’s sleep and could never relax or feel safe.
Even surrounded by other people, I was always scared of him finding and killing me.
I’m not scared here, not with Ryder and Mojo in the house.
Ryder might not be prince charming, but at least he won’t hurt me or let anyone else hurt me, and that’s more than I’m used to.
I take Advil during the day, but every night Ryder gives me one of those magic pills that makes everything go away and lets me sleep peacefully.
My ribs feel a lot better, too, letting me move around much more easily. So, I decide to get up and cook while Ryder is out for the day.
Just when I’m done frying the pork chops and baking the potatoes, the back door opens, and Ryder walks in. He looks at me, standing in the kitchen, while Mojo greets him at the door.
“Feeling better, I see,” he murmurs, taking a seat at the table. “You finally able to keep paying off your debt?”
I swallow hard before answering, “Yes…” A tiny bit of fear swirls around my stomach, but it’s quickly overwritten by excitement. I guess he does still want me.
Putting his food on a plate, I grab a beer from the fridge and bring him both. Setting it in front of him, I watch as he takes a sip of the beer before returning to the kitchen and preparing my plate.
When I sit down with my food in front of me, Ryder continues, “That’s good because I have a job for you. I need you to come to the club with me tonight.”
At his words, I suck in a sharp breath. The fork in my hand slips from my fingers and lands against the plate with a clang. “But-but you said…”
“Not to fuck someone else,” he clarifies. “I need that big brain of yours to do some quick math for me, and I need you to do it quietly, with no one else noticing. Can you do that?”
“Yes,” I answer confidently. That’s one thing I actually can do.
“You are going to sit in on a meeting. I want you to run all the numbers that are being said through your head and make sure they add up. If they don’t, you gonna ask me for a drink.”
“Okay.” I don’t ask any more questions, mostly because I know he won’t answer anyway.
We finish dinner in silence, and when I get up to clean the dishes, Ryder stops me.
“We need to go now, and we’re taking the bike, so grab that helmet and let’s go,” he points toward a black helmet sitting on the entrance table next to the door. He wants me to ride on his bike with him?
Ten minutes later, I’m out the back, and I get my answer. Ryder swings his leg over the mean and dangerous-looking motorcycle. “Get on.”
I pull the helmet he made me get over my head and fasten the little buckle at my chin before I swing my leg over the bike.
Unsteady on one leg, I have to hold on to his shoulders while I position myself behind him.
Unsure what to do, I leave a few inches of space between us while sitting straight and trying to find something to hold on to that isn’t Ryder.
“Slide closer and wrap your arms around me unless you want to fall off,” he finally says, a hint of amusement lacing his voice.
I follow his orders, scooting my butt until my crotch is flush against Ryder’s backside.
At first, I only sling my arms loosely around him, but once he starts the bike, making it rumble and vibrate loudly under me, I grip onto him like an iron shackle.
I can’t hear him because the thing is so loud, but I can feel his stomach under my touch, and I know he is laughing at me.
I spend the rest of the ride in equal amounts of fear and excitement. I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before, and this is quite the experience. When we pull up to the same club Ryder took me from two weeks ago, all the excitement vanishes, and I’m left with deep-rooted fear.
“You remember what you are supposed to do?” Ryder asks when I slide off the bike behind him.
I pull off the helmet and answer, “Yes, run all the numbers in my head and make sure they’re correct. If they’re not, I’ll ask you if I can have a drink.”
“Good job. Let’s go,” Ryder says and starts getting off the bike.
Before thinking about it, I reach over and grab his arm, holding onto his bicep tightly as I can feel it flexing underneath my touch. His body stiffens at the way I hold on to him, but I need to know. I need to make sure he’ll protect me tonight.
“No one in there is going to hurt me, right? You’ll stay with me the whole time.” At my words, he relaxes, his body softening.
“Yes, no one is going to hurt you as long as you do what I say,” he assures me. We head toward the door, but right before we get to it, Ryder stops briefly. “One more thing. If anyone should ask you, act like I’m the one who did this to your face.”
“Why?” Why would he take responsibility for that?
“Just fucking do it.” He rolls his eyes at me.
As we enter, flashbacks of the first time I was brought to this place rush through my head. I was scared then, thinking I was going to die. I am still scared today, but not like I was before. Deep down, I know Ryder will protect me, he always has, even when I didn’t deserve it.
Even though a lot has changed since I was here last, the bar is just as I remembered. The smell is the same, the people are the same, hell, most of them are wearing the same clothes, it seems. All eyes are on me as I follow Ryder closely through the club like a lost puppy.
Every time we pass one of the few women here, they give me nasty looks and glare daggers at me.
I’m not sure why, though. Is it because I’m here with Ryder or just because they know I don’t belong here?
All the other girls here are dressed sexy and provocative, wearing high heel stilettos and dramatic makeup.
In my leggings and pink long sleeve shirt, I couldn’t be any more out of place.
Even worse than the women’s death stares are the men’s eyes roaming my body like I’m some kind of sideshow. I feel like I’m on display, and maybe I am.
Ryder stops so suddenly that I run into him, my face smashing into his muscular back. My still bruised cheek throbs on impact, my hand instantly coming up to cradle the sore spot.
“Watch where you walk, bitch,” Ryder barks at me. The harshness and iciness of his voice has my spine stiffening in fear. He never talks to me like that. He never calls me names other than little owl. This is not the Ryder I know, and I don’t think I like this one… I don’t like him at all.