Chapter Twenty-Eight
Present - Ryder
“IT’S TOO EARLY for this conversation.”
“It’s almost noon.”
“I work nights, asshole.”
“Then I’ll make you a coffee.”
I groan. “Whatever.”
Rubbing my eyes, I watch as Connor starts moving around his kitchen. “I had to get in front of you before the high wore off.”
“The high?”
“Don’t do that.” Connor points a finger at me. “Don’t act like nothing happened between us last night. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything.”
I raise my brows. “I’m sorry, did we fuck or something?”
“If I weren’t so determined to win you over right now, I’d take advantage of this golden moment, but I am determined.” Connor sighs, sliding over my coffee. “So, what do you think?”
“About what?” I take a sip. Fuck. That’s strong.
“You. Me. Us. The band.” Connor pins me with a look so serious, it changes his face. “The offer we received last night.”
“Thought you were going to wait at least twenty-four hours before breaking your promise to leave me alone?”
“We’re building momentum, and I don’t want to lose it.” Connor runs his hands through his hair. “This is my future, Ryder. It’s the band’s future. I need to know what that’s going to look like. Whether you’re going to be in it.”
Taking another sip of the coffee, I buy myself a little more time to consider what the fuck to do. I didn’t sleep last night, which isn’t unusual aside from the why. The nightmares never came because well, I was…excited. So excited I couldn’t sleep.
“I’m coming to you for a real conversation. This isn’t my specialty either, mate. I’m way out of my league.” Connor sighs. “But I need you to answer me. No bullshit, no dodging questions, no vague or cryptic replies. Just…tell me what’s what.”
My jaw clenches up, a physical response that’s become somewhat automatic any time I’m pushed, or someone tries to care. Taking a deep breath, I focus on getting it to relax. Finally, it does, and I try to master the rest of me, unfist my hands, release my shoulders.
“There’s some things I can’t tell you, Connor, things not even Brooke knows.” Raising my black eyes to his, I continue, despite the part of me that’s screaming that this puts his life at risk. “But I will do my best to explain what I can.”
Connor turns, grabs a bottle of whiskey, and dumps a healthy shot into each of our coffees. I give him a look and he shrugs.
I husk a laugh before taking a sip. “You want the truth?
Connor nods.
“If I could have woken up this morning and said fuck it, I’ll do it…I think I would have.” The truth settles over me, bittersweet. “But like you already know, I’m involved in some shit. My position at the bar isn’t flexible. I can’t keep taking weekend nights off without pissing people off who really shouldn’t be pissed off. They eliminate problems when they arise, and I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want the band to become a problem for them.”
Connor drops his head in his hands. “What do we do?”
Shaking my head, I utter another truth. “I have no fucking idea.”
“But…you do want to figure it out?”
“I’m not convinced it’s possible, but if it was…yeah. I’d want to figure it out.”
Connor nods slowly, processing. “Theoretically, as long as we don’t interfere with your shifts, we wouldn’t be a problem for them?”
“Theoretically. But you’re forgetting that it’s not just my shifts that would be a problem for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“What happens if people start recognizing me at the bar? What happens if we do this thing with Blondie, and we take off more than either of us could hope for? You think they want paparazzi and media waiting outside The Swan?”
“That’s tomorrow’s problem.”
“Tomorrow will eventually come.”
“But there’s no way to know what will come with it. Don’t say no to this based on a “what if?”. Maybe by the time we get there, things will be different.”
“There’s no walking away from The Swan.” If I did manage to get out, I’d be dead. That is what tomorrow would bring. “Find someone else and take the deal.”
“Blondie wants the Immoral Support that he saw last night. That includes you. We can’t do this without you, mate.” Connor lifts his hands. “I wish I didn’t have to put it all on you, but this is our chance. If you won’t be part of this…then I guess we’ll have to wait for the next opportunity to come around.”
I stare at Connor, the closest thing I have to a brother, and ask him the question I’ve been locking away until now. “Do you want this bad enough that you’d die for it?”
“Yes.” Connor shrugs. “Without music, I’d be dead anyway. You understand that better than anyone.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Start rehearsing with us. Work toward a future so that if something changes, we can have it. That’s all I’m asking you for right now.”
“What about the other guys?” Dane and Rue can’t be okay with this.
“They told me to do whatever it takes.”
Evie flashes into my mind. She’d tell me that I’d be insane not to jump at this opportunity, regardless of the consequences. Going to the penthouse for rehearsals, it’d give her an excuse to hang around there. See the girls. It’d feel like a life for us. “I’ll do it.”
“Ha!!!! Fuck!!!” Connor raises his arms to the air, like he’s riding the high of his life. “You’re really in!?”
“I’m in. But–” I put up my hand, halting him. “Only for rehearsals, and if the rest figures itself out.”
Connor grins, back to the mischievous cunt I’m used to. “That’s all we need.”
All I can do is hope that if this blows back on them, I’ll already be too dead to see it.
· · ·
Something doesn’t feel right as I take a step out of the building which houses their place. My gut does that dropping thing, and I stop in my tracks, pretending I’ve forgotten something and start searching my pockets. It allows me to take in my surroundings so I can locate the source of unease and figure out another exit, without drawing too much attention.
Nothing screams out of place after I take one quick, general scan. Although, something catches my eyes to the left, so I pivot, pretending to scan the ground for what I’ve lost.
A guy, late 20s or early 30s, leans against the building, one leg propped against the wall as he flicks a lighter open and closed. He’s trying his best to blend in, but his hair doesn’t match his clothes. The dark strands are slicked back, face clean shaven, nails perfectly manicured.
Anyone else would say the suit he was wearing before he put on this hipster shit would have stood out more. But I’d counter with the fact that their lives have never depended on reading people. This man is no hipster.
Feeling my attention, rather than looking nervous, he leans into it as if it’s exactly what he wanted, making me question whether his misstep was a misstep at all. “Hey, buddy, you got a cigarette?”
“No.” I don’t know who this fucking guy is, thinking he can toy with me and test me, but I’m not sticking around to find out. Without another word, I turn my back on him and stride away.
“We’ve been following you for a while.”
For the second time today, I stop dead. “What the fuck did you just say?”
My thoughts slam toward Evie, needing to make sure she’s safe and okay, but reaching for my phone would give me away. If this is one of Stefan’s men, the less he knows the better, but if what he says is true, he likely knows about her already anyway.
“I said we’ve been following you.” He finally drops his foot from the wall, taking a few strides toward me before leaning down, as if he’s picking something up off the ground. His hand goes down empty, but like a magic trick, suddenly there’s a twenty-dollar bill folded between his fingers. “If you want to know more, act like you dropped this and I’m just a kind citizen you’d like to buy a drink for in gratitude.”
It’s a trap. I’d be stupid to walk right into it, but Evie’s life could already be on the line. Reaching out, I take the note from his fingers and nod, as close to looking grateful as I can manage. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Lincoln Blackhall. I work for the FBI.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “You’re so fucking stupid, coming here.”
“Am I?” Agent Blackhall tilts his head, analyzing me. “Regret. I saw it in your eyes once as you took out a trash bag that was dripping blood. And I see it now. This life isn’t what you signed up for.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Oh, but I do.” He reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes and handing one to me, before offering his lighter. “Ryder Cassidy. Mother and father were murdered when you were a small child. If you had any sort of cleverness about you, which I’m now certain you do after your little act a minute ago, then I’d know you’ve been suspicious about the home invasion on a dinky, worn-down one-bedroom. Maybe you’ve known it wasn’t the full story, but since you’ve never looked into it, it tells me you don’t want to know what world they really belonged to. But not knowing hasn’t stopped it from eating away at you for years, though, has it?”
My stomach twists into nausea. Inside, I’m clawing my way to the outside, ready to strangle this fucker into silence, who thinks he can read a file and know someone, even if his claims are true.
“You found yourself thrown into foster care after that, where you met a little girl. Years later, paperwork was filed for a potential adoption, but with a shocking turn of events the very same people ended up adopting her instead of you. Makes me wonder whether that was intentional.”
“Fuck off before you get both of us killed.”
“It’s not the thought of death, or even torture that scares you, is it? The fear stems from having something to lose. Evelyn Ashbluff.”
“Don’t you fucking say her name.” I shove my arm against his throat and push him into the cement wall, rage blocking out every other thought. “Don’t even think her fucking name.”
“I’m here to offer you a way out of this life.” Agent Blackhall swallows against my arm, but doesn’t retaliate or even struggle. “A way to make penance.”
“I haven’t hurt anyone.” But I know that’s not the truth. Shame chases away my rage, and Agent Blackhall chokes oxygen down, as I rip my arm away without warning.
“I have one last question.” Blackhall’s sapphire eyes bore into my soul, stripping me down and leaving me exposed. “Is the person who stands by and watches someone pull the trigger any better than the one pulling it?”
“Get the fuck out of here.”
“In case you change your mind.” With another show of sleight of hand that any magician would envy, Lincoln Blackhall summons a business card from thin air before he tosses it into the open space between us.
As I watch it flutter to the ground, a sinking happens in my stomach while Theo’s words echo in the back of my mind.
Let the pieces fall into place.