Chapter Five
Ryder grabs my hips and hoists me through the narrow opening.
I’m annoyed by the asshole currently breaking into my safehouse.
Frustrated that whoever they are, they’re interfering with my plans.
But I know it has to be because I’m the only person to possess a clue leading to the Phantom Orchid in almost ninety years.
Word sure gets out fast. Ah, the life of a thief. It isn’t for the faint of heart.
Once I’m up, Ryder uses those delicious muscles of his to pull himself up through the trap door. I quickly put the cover back in place and scramble to my feet. “C’mon!”
We’re in the bedroom of the apartment directly above, which I also own. I had the escape hatch installed a year ago. Call it intuition. Or paranoia. Either way, I like knowing I’m too slippery to ever trap. Right now, I’m damn glad I followed my instinct.
My gut tells me a rival thief is after us—maybe Voss hired multiple thieves on this job to increase the likelihood one of us will be successful—but there’s no way I’m going to be outsmarted or caught. And there’s no freaking way anyone is getting hold of the map Percy emailed me.
The Phantom Orchid is mine.
I race over to the window, pry it open and I’m about to climb out onto the old fire escape when Ryder grabs my arm. “Careful.” His fingers squeeze a warning. “Someone might still be outside.”
He has a valid point, and there could be more than one of them, too. I give him a nod, and we both lean out and look down through the grating of the rusty metal stairs. “It’s clear,” I murmur.
The moment the words leave my mouth, someone wearing a gas mask appears, also leaning out the window directly below, and looks straight up at us. He yells something indiscernible, and I’m not sure if it’s directed toward us or his yet-to-be-seen partner.
“Up!” Ryder hisses in my ear.
I prefer down, but since we don’t have much of a choice, we both hop onto the open-grate platform. Ryder pushes me in front of him, covering my back. He’s damn protective, and since I normally work alone, it’s a very new sensation. A part of me kind of likes it, though.
We haul ass up the narrow stairs, and my stomach falls when I hear a bullet ping off the weathered iron somewhere near my head. Fuck!
“Faster!” Ryder urges, practically stepping on my heels. If I stopped now, he’d plow right over me.
I don’t need any encouragement, especially when the gun fires again, and I hear boots pounding up behind us. They’re coming in hot—definitely two pursuers—but I’m prepared. If my life as a thief has taught me anything, it’s to have multiple exit strategies.
I climb onto the roof, and we run like hell toward the opposite side of the building. Ryder follows, trusting me implicitly instead of trying to take over and be the alpha in this situation. And, damn, it makes me appreciate his presence even more.
About halfway across, gunfire erupts and we duck behind an HVAC unit. He curses then glances down at me. “What’s the plan?” he asks. “Because I know you’ve got one.”
“Always.” I can’t help but smirk as I nod to the edge of the rooftop. “There’s another fire escape on the opposite side. We just need to climb down, make our way to the garage and get the hell outta here. Easy peasy.”
He snorts in response. “After you, Miss Diamond.”
“Are you always such a gentleman?” I tease.
I swear his brown eyes seem to darken. “Not always,” he admits in a gruff voice. “Now move that fine ass!”
As I take off, keeping close to the HVAC equipment and vents for cover, his words sink in.
He noticed my ass? I’m not too upset by it.
In fact, a little thrill shoots through me.
A few more bullets shoot, too, but nowhere near us.
We’re out of sight, behind the air conditioning and heating units, and moving fast.
Once we reach the other fire escape, we race down it like the building actually is on fire.
I’m plucking my keys from my pocket before we even reach the pavement.
On the last platform, Ryder unhooks the ladder and it drops to the sidewalk.
As we hurry down, I chance a glance up, but don’t see anyone following.
It makes me nervous not to have eyes on our pursuers, and I kick it into even higher gear.
Jetting around the corner, I shove my key into the garage door lock. We run over to my Vanquish, jump inside and I reverse it out of the parking spot.
“Who the hell are those guys?” he demands.
Rival assholes, I think, but don’t say anything.
He knows how this game is played. Instead, I focus on driving.
When we reach the exit, I hit the remote and the gate begins to rumble up.
The moment I begin to think our pursuers may have given up, two men step into view, guns raised.
I’m not sure who they think they are—or if they just think I’m an easy target—but I’m not messing around.
“Buckle up!” I yell to Ryder who’s already grabbing his seatbelt and snapping it into place.
He lets out a curse as I slam my foot down on the accelerator and the car roars forward.
Bullets fly, and Ryder drops forward for cover, but I don’t flinch.
Staying upright, I keep my eyes on the two assholes ahead, curbing my desire to smile at them when they dive for cover as we shoot out of the garage like we’ve just been launched from a cannon.
Wheels squealing and smoking on the pavement, I yank the wheel hard and hit the gas. Time to vacate the premises.
Ryder pops up, spinning in his seat and looking out the back window. Then he drops back down and eyes me closely. “Nice driving.”
“Thanks.”
“They did have guns, you know. Or did you miss that little fact?”
“I didn’t miss your sarcastic tone.” I pat the dashboard. “My baby is bulletproof.”
“Really?” He arches impressive brows then looks over the car appreciatively. “Dammit, I knew I should’ve gotten one of these.”
I chuckle. “I’m sure you can afford it, Moneybags.”
“What makes you think I’m so loaded?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Word on the street is your family owns diamond mines.” When he doesn’t respond, I glance over. “That tends to multiply the zeroes in a person’s bank account.”
“My parents own them.” He hesitates, then adds, “I only own one.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Most men like to brag about how much money they have, not downplay the fact.”
“I don’t hide who I am,” he states, sending me a look inferring I do. I suppose I deserve it because it’s definitely true.
“You’re very interesting. Not what I expected.” I sound surprised, even to myself. To be honest, I was expecting a spoiled, entitled, whiny little rich boy. Not an interesting, confident, intelligent man.
“Right back at you.”
Neither of us says anything for a few moments, and I’m lost in thought about our narrow escape.
I stop at a red light and use the brief seconds it provides to get my mind back in the game.
“So where do you live? We need to pick up whatever gear you need, and then we’re heading straight to the airport. Our flight should be ready soon.”
“I assume we’re going to Austria?” He slants me a look.
“Vienna, Austria,” I confirm.
Ryder lives in an upscale Washington Park neighborhood.
Better known as Wash Park, it’s the place you take visitors when you want to show the city off.
It’s a very pricey part of town with locally-owned boutiques, bars and restaurants, but also lots of scenic beauty, including a lake and endless trails.
We roll down a tree-lined street, and he points out a large brick house at the end of the block. I stop the car and look at the beautiful home, whistling under my breath. “Nice digs, Moneybags.”
“Would you stop calling me that, Miss I-drive-a-Vanquish? And don’t think for even a moment that I believe you actually live in something resembling that little hovel you called a safehouse.”
“While that is true,” I acknowledge, getting out of the car, “I do not, nor have I ever, owned a diamond mine. You win.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t respond. He knows there’s not much that can beat that. It’s like when you’re playing poker and holding a straight flush. Of course, someone at the table might be holding a royal flush, but the odds are definitely in your favor to win.
It’s a ridiculously beautiful home, and I love how the entire left side is three levels of floor-to-ceiling windows.
The view of the mountains must be incredible from those upper levels.
I try not to let my jaw drop as I follow him inside.
Of course, it’s absolutely luxurious. But it feels…
cold. Unlived in. Like he hired a top interior designer, and not one piece has any personal relevance or story or memory.
“Give me ten minutes,” he says, interrupting my thoughts. “Make yourself comfortable. And be aware, there are cameras everywhere.”
A flash of annoyance makes me abruptly look up from the stack of neatly-arranged books on an end table, and my gaze flicks over the room, searching for cams. “What? You think I’m going to steal something?”
“No,” he answers easily. “Just don’t want you to find one and think I’m watching you. Even though it is tempting.” He gives me a chin tilt and mischievous smirk before ambling off.
My shoulders relax. Ryder McKay is definitely not what I expected, and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Guess only time will tell.
Keeping my hands to myself—just in case he is watching me—I wander around the great room where he left me, taking notice of every single thing.
I’ve always been extremely detail-oriented, and it doesn’t take long to deduce Ryder likes everything to have its place.
Even his remote controls are lined up in a perfect row on the coffee table from largest to smallest.
I run my finger over a couple of surfaces, and there’s not a speck of dust anywhere. I’m willing to bet he has someone to clean his place. A couple times a week by the looks of it. He doesn’t initially give off the impression he’s a neat freak, but now I’m wondering.
Until I stumble onto an open door that leads into what can only be described as Ryder’s domain. It’s a large office, and very much lived-in. Kind of a mess, actually, with junk everywhere.
“Almost ready.”
I turn to see him drop a duffel bag on the floor and then move past me into the office.
He flips a light on and, compared to the rest of the house, this place is an absolute playground, brimming with toys and equipment.
A huge desk dominates the room with multiple computer monitors of various sizes and configurations.
Lots of tech stuff covers every available surface, and I couldn’t even begin to guess what most of it does.
I also notice a mug with stale, cold coffee and several half-finished bottles of water.
“Welcome to where the magic happens.” He sends me a cheeky grin as he stuffs a laptop into a padded crossbody bag.
“Isn’t that supposed to be the bedroom?”
“For most people, yeah.” His smile turns wry.
Hmmm, interesting. If he’s anything like me, he’s far too busy for a serious relationship. But he’s much more playful and lighthearted compared to my more serious, gloomy nature. I find it fascinating that we can be so opposite, yet strangely similar.
“Sex is overrated,” I murmur, picking up what looks like a mini drone.
I don’t know what possesses me to say that, but when I look up, he’s studying me far too intently.
Shite. Backtrack. Fast. “I mean, unless it’s with the right person.
” I clear my throat, pretending to study the little flying device. “Obviously.”
“Obviously,” he echoes, his brown eyes lighting up with mirth.
Ugh. I set the drone back down, annoyed with myself for revealing too much.
It’s no one’s business if a man’s equipment has never had the power to make me orgasm.
I’m usually wound up too tight, unable to fully let go, and it’s just always been out of my grasp.
Frustratingly unachievable—unless I’m indulging in some solo play.
God, I have trust issues.
“Are you almost ready?” I grumble.
“Yep.” He slings his messenger bag over a shoulder, picks up the other duffel bag he just filled, and sends me a panty-melting smile. “Ready whenever you are, Miss Diamond.”
My heart tightens, and for reasons I can’t explain, I wish he knew my real name.