Chapter 20
Violet
“What do you mean we’re walking from here?
” I demanded, eyeing the garage tucked away in the corner, half-swallowed by trees.
Beyond it, the Thames stretched dark and restless, the wind carrying spray that slapped against my face the moment I opened the door, as if nature was intent on punishing me.
The garage was open, with a few men working without acknowledging us. One car was suspended high on the lift, while another was being rolled carefully out of the way, the scent of oil and metal heavy in the air.
“We need to get rid of the car,” Ryder said as if that was a suitable explanation. I must have pulled a face, because he immediately added, “It’s got our prints and your… bodily fluids.” He smirked at that, while I prayed for the earth to open and swallow me whole.
“What do you mean get rid? I thought this was your car?” The red Ford was infinitely better than his stupid, bloody bike.
And yes, a man like Ryder owning a hatchback felt wildly out of character, but then again, I didn’t drive, and I’d never understood people’s borderline obsession with vehicles in the first place.
“Seriously, do you have selective memory or something? It’s stolen. I couldn’t exactly risk taking you on the train with your little thing for exhibitionism.” Ryder shook his head and strode toward the man in overalls waiting just inside the shop.
“No, my lack of memory must be a trauma response!” I shouted after him, because clearly, I must have an issue with impulse control.
Ryder froze mid-step, lifting a finger toward the man in a universal one moment gesture. Then he turned back to me, closing the distance with unhurried purpose. I locked my spine, refusing to retreat.
“Keep telling yourself that,” he murmured, lowering his head until his lips hovered a hair’s breadth from mine.
His voice slid into a chuckle, dark and mocking.
“But your cunt still came around my…” He paused, eyes glinting with cruel amusement before correcting himself with dripping sarcasm. “Oh, wait… your fingers.”
“Do we have a problem?” growled the man in overalls, his expression that of a pissed-off bear.
Ryder held my gaze a moment more before he stepped back. “Don’t worry, Mikhail, we’re all good here.”
I stayed by the car, my skin erupting in goosebumps against the wind.
After a moment Ryder returned, brow raised as I rubbed at the skin on my exposed arms. Rolling his eyes, he shrugged off his leather jacket, throwing it at me.
I managed to catch it before it smacked me in the face, and my first instinct was to drop it in a puddle.
But then the warmth settled over me, carrying Ryder’s grounding scent of woodsmoke and spice, and I begrudgingly pulled it on.
“Where are we going?” I asked as he began to walk, expecting me to follow.
“I need to speak to a friend.”
“No, I need to speak to my mum.” I went to grab his arm, but he pulled back before I could reach. “Ryder…”
“Look, hospital visitations aren’t even open until three.”
I stopped walking, Ryder taking a moment to realise I was no longer following him. “How did you—”
“You talk in your sleep.” He shrugged. “Snore, too.”
“I do not.” Shit, did I?
“Good plan putting your mum in the crazy ward. It’ll make it harder for whoever’s hunting her if she’s being watched, but also more annoying for us.”
“She’s not crazy,” I snapped. “Don’t call her crazy.” So many people looked at her like they were afraid of what she might do, but she wasn’t crazy. Her brain was just… different.
Ryder clicked his tongue. “Deranged, then.”
I took a long breath, trying to calm the scream I wanted to let out in frustration. Ryder’s opinion meant nothing to me, and yet he still managed to get under my skin. His deep voice was clinging to me like smoke.
I hated it, hated him. And worse, I hated the treacherous spark that burned when he gave me that devious smirk.
Stop it.
I needed him for one thing, and after that I could walk away, free of him and his shallow, hedonistic games.
We remained in tense silence as we walked the streets, the heels of my boots clicking against the pavement while Ryder moved as silent as a predator. The street turned darker, the buildings more derelict. Abandoned, while men in oversized coats seemed to loiter without purpose.
Ryder halted outside a Tudor-style pub that looked absurdly out of place amid the grim street. Golden light spilled through the windows, warm and inviting, while above the door a wooden sign creaked in the breeze, its painted letters stating: The Fluffy Duckling.
The patrons were less inviting, all turning with a harsh glare as soon as we entered. Not that it bothered Ryder, who lifted his arm if he was a king greeting his court.
“Ryder, baby!” a woman purred, coming over to press her palm flat to his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me. I can’t stop thinking about—”
Ryder gripped her wrist, pulling off her hand with more force than necessary. “You know not to touch me,” he said, voice darkening.
The woman pouted, seemingly undeterred with the rejection. “You didn’t mind when my lips were wrapped around your—”
Ew.
“Excuse us,” I interrupted, taking Ryder by the arm and dragging him further inside. He stiffened a little before a chuckle followed me, and I turned to find him looking at me amused.
“Relax. I’m not going to fuck her.”
“I don’t care which cheap toy you decide to shove your dick into,” I snapped. “But I thought we were here to talk to your friend?”
“Ouch.” His grin widened, knowing. “You sound a little jealous to me.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, heat prickling at the accusation. “Why would I be jealous?”
Ryder stepped in close, the bar digging into my back as he crowded me. “Because calling her a cheap toy is a pretty mean thing to say for someone who isn’t jealous,” he said, voice brushing like velvet.
“No thanks, I’m not interested.”
Ryder’s head dipped closer, his arms locking me against the bar without a single touch. “I think your cunt would disagree.”
“Ugh, does your ego have no limits?”
He merely gave a casual shrug. “I’ve never had any complaints.”
“You’re disgusting,” I said. “The only reason last night happened was because of the drink.”
“Sure, keep telling yourself that, love,” Ryder whispered, his lips brushing so close to my ear that his breath sent shivers down my spine. “I bet if I slid my fingers between your thighs right now, I’d find you wet for me, wouldn’t I?”
My response got stuck in my throat, heat sweeping across my skin at his words.
“You took our fingers so well, and now you’re aching to show me how well you’ll take my cock. Aren’t you?”
My anger burned hot, even if my traitorous thighs pressed together automatically. “You’re delusional,” I hissed.
Ryder grinned, but his eyes had darkened to embers. “Shall we test my theory?”
I scoffed, folding my arms. “You really think you’re God’s gift just because you know where the clit is?” I shot back. “You’re not even that handsome.”
He tutted. “Now, you’re just being mean.”
“Chto ty hóchesh’?”
The voice broke through the tension, and rather than move away Ryder simply looked over my shoulder. “Maxim, perfect timing as usual. I’m looking for Roman.”
Slipping beneath his arm, I turned to face the bartender. “Where’s the bathroom?”
A bored gaze met mine. “Through there,” he said in a thick Russian accent, his head gesturing to the side.
“Thank you.” Not bothering to acknowledge Ryder, I followed the bartender’s direction and headed to the shared bathroom. The dark space immediately closed around me, and I rushed to the sink, splashing water on my face.
My lungs seemed to tighten, and thankfully I was alone as I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same as always, and yet I felt different. As if I held this weight on my shoulders and I didn’t know how to relieve it.
Ryder was just all words, and my body’s reaction was just that, a reaction that lacked any logical reasoning. Natural and in no way wanted.
He was delusional if he thought, even for a second, that I would be interested in the man who’d stalked, cornered, and then tossed me into the hands of a brute. It didn’t matter that technically he hadn’t abandoned me, not when the only reason he stayed was because I had something he wanted.
His charm and cheap little tricks wouldn’t work on me. I wasn’t one of those women blinded by a pretty face and hard body. He was just pushing, trying to get me to give up the USB drive.
Which… I didn’t actually have.
The door slammed open behind me, causing me to startle. “Ryder? What are you—”
“Shh!” He went to grab me, his large palm covering my lips. “Be quiet,” he whispered, moving us both into the stall and closing the door. It barely managed to fit us, with Ryder crushing me to his chest to make space.
I went to shove him, but then the bathroom door opened once more, and Ryder pressed harder against my lips, his large hand covering the bottom of my face.
There were footsteps, loud even against the blood rushing in my ears.
I could feel my heart in my throat, fear a sour taste at the back of my tongue.
Ryder remained perfectly still, his breathing even and calm while I tried not to panic.
The footsteps stopped outside, a shadow appearing beneath the door.
“Come out.” A strange click, followed by the sound like metal against wood. “Or I’ll shoot you through the stall.”
A strangled breath exhaled through my nose, giving us away.
“You must have a death wish, Cedric,” Ryder commented calmly, his chest rumbling against me. “Not many would risk pissing off the Knyaz’.”
The gun scraped against the door, and I was pretty sure I was shaking.
“Give me the girl, and I’ll let you go. For now.”
“What girl?”
A bang, the entire door rattling on its hinges. “Last warning, Ryder.”
“Ty chto tvarísh’?!” came an angry voice.
“Back off,” Cedric growled at the newcomer. “This is private.”
“Neutral ground,” the bartender growled. “Ty chórtov idiót!”
The shadow stepped away, and after a tense moment there was a knock on the door. Ryder finally released me, reaching around to try and open it.
“Come,” the bartender ordered, his expression severe.
Ryder had to press us both against the stall’s wall to allow the door to open enough for us to squeeze back through. We followed the bartender outside the bathroom, but instead of returning to the bar, he guided us slightly behind it to the storage room full of kegs and bottles.
“Here,” he grunted, pulling on a sconce on the wall. Something clicked, followed by a hiss of air. “Go.”
Ryder grabbed my hand and pulled me after him, leading the way down the narrow metal stairs into the tunnel below.
Darkness swallowed us, almost pitch black, but Ryder moved with unshakable purpose, his grip on me firm and unrelenting.
It must have only been minutes, but it stretched like hours before another staircase appeared, ending at a heavy wooden door.
He shoved it open, and we spilled out into an alley a few streets away.
“Come on,” Ryder urged, reaching back to haul me up onto the pavement.
My eyes darted over the shadows. “How did he find us?”
“Someone probably sold me out for a few quid, the greedy bastards.” Ryder slammed the wooden doors shut with a crack that echoed down the alley. His jaw tightened. “Until this is sorted, we’re going to have to be more careful with who we trust.”