Chapter 2
Koby
My head’s pounding a relentless, brutal rhythm.
I blame the eleven whiskeys—or was it twelve?
Or it could be down to the dead cop’s brain matter splattered across Ryder’s condo.
Not that blame distribution helps.
It was an eventful night.
Alcohol isn’t the only culprit. There’s also the worry chewing through me. The nerves that didn’t even settle when Vaughn pulled the trigger.
Hangovers I can handle. What I can’t handle is Leilani’s face pulsing in my head, somehow eclipsing the headache.
I peel my eyes open, squinting against the sunlight pouring through the windows. I didn’t close the drapes last night. Correction: this morning, when I crawled into bed at seven. My body gave up before drawing them shut occurred to me.
My thick, dry tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth and every swallow scrapes raw. My muscles ache as if I spent the night in a boxing ring rather than cleaning up Vaughn’s mess.
The clock reads just past noon. Five hours. Five fucking hours is all the rest I got. Well, sleep, because I don’t feel rested at all. In fact, I feel worse than before this short nap. No wonder my skull isn’t far from splitting. No wonder my stomach curls, threatening to eat my spine.
When was the last time I ate?
Last night, my brain supplies, though chewing ice cubes between drinks hardly counts.
I drag myself upright, groaning at the pain radiating down my shoulders. Seven days of walking around wound up tighter than a tripwire will do that to a man. I run a heavy hand down my face, wiping off the exhaustion.
Not that it helps. Nothing will pull me back to myself until Leilani’s away from Jax. Away from his reach. Safe... with me.
That thought shouldn’t materialize. I’ve no right to it, but it’s already burrowed into me, spreading like poison.
I don’t know if my worry’s justified, but that doesn’t mean shit. She turned me into a walking disaster the moment she entered Scarlett.
I tell myself she isn’t mine, that I don’t own her, but every beat of my pulse argues back, dragging her face into focus until I can’t breathe.
Last night should’ve drained me. Those adrenaline spikes on top of all that alcohol should’ve knocked me out cold for twelve hours and forced my system to reset, but no.
No matter how much I drank, how high I felt when Vaughn pulled the trigger, my mind stayed trapped, stuck on Leilani.
Is Jax hurting her? Threatening her? Blackmailing her?
I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and force my morning routine into motion: painkillers, shower, clothes, a bottle of water, three shots of espresso.
Ryder promised he’d find out what he could about Leilani, but given the state of his girl when Vaughn—
Shit!
They’re here, aren’t they? In my guest bedroom.
I gave him the keys last night so he could get Bianca away from his blood-spattered home and calm her down.
I doubt they’ll be leaving anytime soon, or that Ryder will have time or headspace for research after his woman got put through hell. She’s his priority.
Too bad I don’t have the patience to sit on my ass and wait.
I scroll through my contacts, thumb hovering over the names of low-ranking soldiers who won’t immediately run their mouths off to Carter. My fingers hesitate, the phone growing heavy.
This is a big fucking no-no. I don’t have the authority to make this move. One text will cross an uncrossable line.
Don’t do it.
It’s just one order.
But even one order carries weight. I know the rules. I know this power isn’t mine to wield. No one moves without Carter’s approval... yet here I am, seconds away from tossing that rule straight in the trash.
You can’t issue orders—
A vision of her eyes cuts off the warning in my head. I type out Find out where Jax is staying with shaking fingers and let it fly.
The next few hours stretch into endless torture. Time crawls, every tick of the clock reverberating like a church bell. I pace my living room, then the hall, then back again. I roll my shoulders, pop my knuckles, down five espressos.
Nothing takes the edge off.
I tell myself I’m waiting for my overnight guests to wake up, but every second without that address scrapes my nerves against bone.
My mind won’t stop circling, replaying my every interaction with Leilani, every second she spent by Jax’s side, the way she looked so helpless, even when her eyes burned.
What if I imagined it?
What if she’s fine?
What if she wants him?
No. No fucking way. I know what a cage looks like and she’s inside one, even if no one else sees the bars.
It’s past three in the afternoon when the door down the hall creaks open, followed by the tap, tap, tap of bare feet against the hardwood floor.
I glance up from the couch, the sixth or seventh shot of espresso in hand. Ryder looks well rested despite everything, his dark hair messy from sleep, sweatpants slung low on his hips.
He takes one look at me and lets out a long, slow exhale. “You haven’t slept?”
“Oh, I did... it felt like a whole five fucking minutes.”
“Fine.” He shakes his head as if scolding a misbehaving toddler. “Give me your laptop.”
Hope sparks in my chest. “You’ll dig?”
“I think either I dig, or you’ll prove it’s not just snakes who can shed their skin.”
An ounce of the weight on my chest lifts. I pass him my laptop. It’s not close to his state-of-the-art equipment, but he’ll make it work.
The sound of his fingers flying over the keyboard used to grate on my nerves. He types so fast the individual keystrokes merge into a monotone hum, but today, it’s soothing. A repetitive, grounding reminder that something is finally happening.
“This might take a while, Koby. I can’t exactly pull her entire life history out of thin air.”
“I know, just—”
“Yeah, I get it,” he cuts in. “Anything. Everything.”
I rub at the pulsing ache in my temples, counting the seconds between each inhale.
Patience has never been my virtue.
Barely twenty minutes pass before Ryder’s fingers stop with a deafening silence. I feel the shift in his demeanor before I hear what caught his attention.
Bianca’s up.
That means no more digging. At least for now.
Barefoot, she stops in the doorway, eyes flicking between us like she’s trying to piece together how the world is still spinning.
Ryder softens in a way I rarely see. He leans back against the couch, tilting his head toward her. “How are you doing, Summer?”
“Okay, I think.” She smiles small, padding across the room, and folds herself onto the couch beside him.
He immediately pulls her in, his arm banding around her shoulders, lips brushing the crown of her head, and she exhales as if that’s all she needed to breathe again.
And fuck... my chest aches at the sight.
I want that. I want Leilani in my arms. Safe. Cherished.
Except it won’t happen like this. Bianca goes to Ryder because she trusts him, because she knows she’s safe there. Leilani doesn’t even know me, and if she did, I doubt she’d see me as the personification of safety.
Details, my mind scoffs.
Yes, details. She doesn’t have to come to me soft. She doesn’t even have to trust me, not at first. She just has to be mine.