Chapter Twenty-Three - Elise
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Elise
A soft knock on the door wakes me up.
My neck is killing me from sleeping on my stomach, and I rub it as I sit up, calling for the only person who comes here to enter.
Ryder opens the door, carrying a tray of breakfast food. He studies me warily, waiting to see my reaction, and I guess this means he’s talked to Joshua.
I openly glare at him.
He sighs, setting the tray down on the table. “I’m sorry about last night. I thought your back would be able to handle getting up the stairs. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
It’s been three days since we arrived at Joshua’s house.
The two-story log cabin could be mistaken for ordinary on the outside, but the interior is anything but.
The dark knotty pine walls that cover every inch of the house are complemented by the river rock-lined fireplaces, deep green curtains, and brown leather furniture.
Every room screams luxury in the most subtle way, like how the worn-looking stone tiles of each bathroom floor are heated, or how even the smallest throw pillows are still softer than anything I’ve ever owned.
I couldn’t help but notice how the kitchen is in pristine condition, with countless appliances just begging for my attention. There’s even a back porch with lounge chairs, couches, and a grill that I just had to admire.
My room here is twice the size of the one I had at the base. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate the far wall, and I spend most of my time staring absently at the trees that span over the miles and miles of mountains. Each night, I watch the sunset from my bed, and the sight is breathtaking.
I have a glass table surrounded by four plush chairs and a fireplace that I haven’t bothered to use. Even my art supplies are neatly organized, albeit untouched, in one of the corners.
These days, I live in self-imposed isolation, only broken by Ryder to bring me food and pills.
Since my tour when we first arrived, he reminds me at least five times a day that I’m free to go wherever I’d like in the house.
Once, he even threatened me with starvation if I didn’t join him downstairs for dinner, but he gave up when he realized I’d face that consequence before risking an encounter with Joshua.
So far, I’ve been successful in my efforts to avoid him, but my luck ran out last night.
I suppose it’s my fault since I practically forced Ryder to take the evening to spend time with his daughter, who lives two hours away.
Yes, his daughter.
When he first told me about her, I’d been stunned into silence. It’s not like Ryder is too young to have a child, but the idea of the Moreno family underboss fathering a smiley three-year-old girl named Lyla had caught me off guard.
It made me realize that his fierce determination to protect me must come from his hope that someone would do the same for his daughter.
He hasn’t said it outright, but in the few days we’ve spent together, I’ve gotten the sense that he never liked the idea of using me to blackmail my father to begin with.
He’d been reluctant to leave me yesterday, but I assured him I’d be okay for one night.
I was wrong.
Tuesday, May 26: one night earlier
“Okay,” Ryder starts, gripping the overnight bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m going, but we’re short on soldiers right now, so you’ll need to go downstairs to get your own dinner.”
I guess I’m skipping dinner tonight.
Ryder tracks my thoughts. “If Moreno hears you haven’t eaten, he’ll likely bring you food himself.”
So much for that plan.
“I’ll let him know you’re going down around six and to stay out of the kitchen during that time. Unless you’ve changed your mind about me leaving?”
“No, of course not.” I shake my head adamantly. Obviously, I’d rather have Ryder stay with me, but I hate knowing he misses his daughter and isn’t spending time with her because of me.
He arches an eyebrow, unconvinced.
“I mean it,” I tell him. “I’ll get dinner at six.”
Ryder finally leaves, but only after I assure him at least three more times that I’ll be fine, and I even start to believe it myself.
I pull out a book that I don’t have any particular interest in, but it beats another evening of staring aimlessly out the window.
My eyes drift to the clock, and my stomach drops when I see that it’s almost seven.
Damn it.
It’s a miracle that Joshua hasn’t come here already, and since I don’t want to give him a reason to, I throw down the book and climb out of bed.
I open the door, peering out to ensure that no one is there before I slip into the hall. I’m still walking with a limp, which makes it difficult to go unheard, but I try my best not to draw attention to myself.
Descending the stairs is just as uncomfortable as I thought it would be, but I manage to do it by myself. I hear rustling in the kitchen when I set foot on the main floor, but I can’t see who it is from here.
During my tour with Ryder, he told me that several soldiers are staying here with us and even all of the capos from Moreno’s main base, which is practically unheard of. When I asked Ryder why, he told me Joshua required his most trusted men to come with us, but I felt no comfort at that.
Only a few days ago, Tripp would’ve qualified.
According to Ryder, the only people staying in this house are the two of us and Joshua. The others stay in a guest house elsewhere on the property.
I’m about to turn around and go upstairs when the scent of food reaches me, and my stomach growls. It’s not surprising since I’ve barely eaten all day, but it means there’s no avoiding this interaction.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the only person in the kitchen is Jay.
I’d been surprisingly glad when Ryder told me Jay came with us to handle all the cooking while we’re here. Jay is a familiar face that doesn’t spark my anxiety—and these days, that’s a win.
The burly man turns when I enter the room, and his face softens. “Good evening, Miss Consoli. How are you?”
I’m exhausted, hurting, and hungry, so I bypass that question.
“Please, call me Elise.”
He’s made grilled chicken, baked potatoes, corn on the cob, and fresh rolls. My mouth waters at the sight, and I greedily breathe in the aroma.
“Can I make you a plate?”
I want to decline and do it myself, but it’ll require a lot of arm and shoulder movements that will hurt my back, so I reluctantly nod.
He hands me a full plate, gesturing to a selection of wines on the counter. “Would you like a drink?”
“Uh, yeah, that would be nice.” He turns and grabs a bottle, pouring a generous amount into a glass.
He holds out the glass, and I’m about to take it when a familiar, husky voice stops me.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
So much for avoiding him.
I would’ve been better off staying in my room. At least then, I could’ve told him to leave the food in the hall and avoided seeing him.
Placing my food on the counter, I turn to face him.
Joshua stands in the doorway, holding an empty plate he must be returning. He looks as handsome as ever, wearing casual sweats and a gray tee, similar to how he dressed for our movie night.
My heart squeezes painfully at the memory.
I instinctively step back when I see him, and I note a hint of anger in his eyes that doubles the speed of my heart. Only, he’s not really looking at me but at my shirt.
No, it’s Ryder’s shirt.
Ryder gave me a few of his button-ups since pulling a shirt over my head isn’t something I can do alone. They’re way too big on me, falling well below my shorts, but the fabric is soft against my still-sensitive skin.
“Why can’t I have wine?”
His gaze softens once fixated on my face. So, it is the shirt that bothers him.
“I’m not sure they’ll mix well with the pain medication you’re taking,” he explains.
It’s a fair enough point, so I’m not mad at the restriction, but I’m still anxious to get away from him.
I nod, slowly taking my food and looking to the floor as I pass him. I half-expect him to stop me, but he steps aside to let me pass.
My relief lasts for all of two seconds as I stand at the base of the stairway and face my next obstacle. Getting down was hard enough, but going up with a full plate of food? I’m not sure how I’m going to do this.
Before I can find a solution, I feel his dominating presence behind me.
“I can help.”
I grit my teeth. “No.”
But I’m not sure how I plan to do this. Knowing that I look foolish, I bite my lip and think through every possibility, but nothing comes to mind.
“Elise, let me help.”
“Don’t come near me.”
“Okay.” I hear him step back. “How about I carry your food to the room?”
I consider my options, but there aren’t many.
“Fine.” I hold out the plate, refusing to meet his gaze.
He takes it from me and ascends the staircase. I don’t want to be any closer to him than I have to be, so I wait here until he gets back. Moments later, I hear the padding of footsteps as he comes down.
He passes me, walking in the direction of his office but stopping in the archway. “I left two more pills up there for you to take in three hours. If you need me, I’ll be in my office or my room.”
“I won’t need you.”
He sighs. “Goodnight, Elise.”
Present day
Ryder’s worried gaze brings me back to our conversation, and I throw off my covers, stretching my neck as I do.
“Don’t worry about it,” I mutter because I’d rather just pretend it never happened.
I sit at the table and pick at the food he’s brought me. “How was seeing your daughter?”
A rare smile touches his lips. “It was perfect.”
“Maybe you’ll join me for breakfast and tell me about it?”
“Unfortunately, I’m needed by Mr. Moreno for a few things today. Maybe tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” I agree. “Can I ask you a question?”
He crosses his arms and nods.
“What happens now? With my dad, I mean.” The question has plagued me for days, but I haven’t had the courage to ask it until now. “Does he know I’m not at the base anymore?”
The question doesn’t seem to come as a surprise to Ryder, and I wonder if he’s been expecting this. “Mr. Moreno will be speaking with him soon about how things will proceed from here.”
I nod, knowing he won’t tell me anything more and realizing that I probably don’t want to know more.
I finish my food and shower quickly, holding a towel over my chest as I do daily for Ryder to check my back.
“These are healing really well,” he tells me as he finishes attaching the last bandage. “You might be able to sleep on your back by tomorrow.”
“Hopefully,” I sigh. “My neck is killing me from how I’ve been sleeping.”
“Oh, and I almost forgot,” he says, pointing to a bag that I hadn’t noticed he brought in until now. “I bought some button-ups for you while I was out. Now you won’t have to use mine.”
My lip twitches at the gesture. “Thank you, Ryder. I really appreciate it.”
The memory of Joshua’s reaction to me wearing Ryder’s shirt flashes through my mind. I don’t even want to think about what that meant.
It’s nearing two o’clock, and Ryder still hasn’t come for his afternoon visit. I’d think it was another scheme to lure me out of my room, but after last night, he wouldn’t pull something like that. If he isn’t here, he must be doing something important.
My throat is parched, and my back is hurting since I’m due for more medicine. I loathe the idea of going to find him, but if I wait any longer, my pain will get out of hand.
I slip out of my room, and when I knock on Ryder’s door, there’s no answer.
Taking a deep breath, I decide it’s worth the risk to go downstairs.
The kitchen is empty, and I head straight for the cabinet, quietly getting a glass and filling it with water from the filter.
My back throbs, and as much as I hate the idea of going to ask for pills, I hate being in pain even more. If Ryder isn’t in his room, he must be in the office with Joshua. My only solace comes from the fact that I know he’ll shield me if Joshua tries to pull something.
Before I can chicken out, I walk in the direction of the office.
During my house tour, Ryder pointed out Joshua’s office and bedroom. I vowed to stay away from those rooms even after realizing that they’re likely the only places in the house with any communication mediums.
I haven’t given much thought to the idea of escaping since the attack. Maybe it’s because I’m in no shape to run away or because, in addition to my sense of security, Tripp stole any hope I had left.
As I near the large doors, I can hear Joshua and Ryder’s voices on the other side, and they suddenly go quiet. My heart drops, and I think they must sense me somehow, but then I hear the ringing of a phone behind the door.
I turn to leave, assuming this is a bad time to get their attention, but once the man answers the phone, I freeze.
“Go to hell, Moreno.” His voice is gruff, as though he hasn’t slept in days.
“It’s nice to talk to you too, Mr. Consoli.”
My heart leaps back up, lodging in my throat. I shouldn’t listen to this, but how can I leave now? I need to know what’s going on.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t learn about your jailbreak plan?” Joshua asks when my father is silent. “I assume you’re ready to talk business now?”
“No.” My father’s voice is deadly low. “We won’t be making any deals.”
Wait a minute, shouldn’t he be negotiating?
Apparently, I’m not the only one confused because Joshua demands, “What the hell does that mean? Do I need to remind you what’s at stake?”
Panic grips me by the throat, and my vision blurs around the edges. I have to hold onto the wall to stop myself from falling over.
Joshua wouldn’t hurt me again, would he?
Of course he would.
“You don’t need to remind me. However, I won’t entertain your negotiations any longer. I am not a man who can be manipulated or swayed.”
I don’t understand what he means, but Joshua seems to.
“You only played along because you had a plan to break her out,” Joshua states, voice tight with grim realization.
“As I said, I won’t be manipulated. If others heard that I could be influenced by my daughter, she’d never be safe again, and my enemies would destroy me. I can’t have that weakness.”
“You do realize what I’m going to do to her, don’t you?” Joshua practically growls.
“I do. Don’t think you’ve gotten away with this, Moreno. I won’t forget what you’ve done, and I swear I’ll get you back for it.”
The meaning of his words clicks, knocking the breath out of me like a punch to the gut.
My father just told Joshua to kill me.