Chapter 18 #2
The older man raises his head and sizes me up. I can see he wants to crush me with the heel of his shoe, but he stops himself at the last moment. Rolling his eyes in disgust, he finally extends his hand to me. “James Elliot.”
I know who you are.
“Ash,” I say, extending my hand. His hand feels cold, much like his heart likely is. I’m withdrawing my hand immediately.
“Ash...?” James wants to know my last name and waits for me to fill him in. Fake ignorance.
I’m looking for a way out of this situation, but as if to spite me, no one is coming over to us. Most people just glance in our direction and turn their heads away in fear. Some of the more daring ones speak to their companions.
The unpleasant mood is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
“Where you find women like this is beyond me. You really can do better,” his father snorts. “I know your taste, Ryker. You’ve always chosen... spoiled things.”
This is the second official message of the evening. It took me five minutes and one word to hate this boor.
“Excuse me?” I ask, surprised.
“Ash, will you excuse us for a moment? I need to have a word with my father.”
My eyes meet Ryker’s, and I offer a subtle smile. He seems like a different person altogether when he’s around James, distant and like a stranger. Cold.
He maintains distance between us, acting as though he wishes to avoid being seen with me. A sense of unease and uncertainty pierces me.
“Of course, yes. I’ll go grab a bite.”
Glancing briefly at James, who continues to look at me with obvious contempt, I take a few steps back and stop at a long table laden with snacks. I grab a small plate and pretend to ponder my food choices.
But my thoughts are still with them, as are my ears. Out of the corner of my eye, I glance over.
They’re talking feverishly about something. James radiates hatred around him, but surely it can’t be directed at his own son. Right?
Ryker initially stands straight as a string, looking his father in the eye and listening to him.
After a moment, he turns into a predator.
With one step, he’s right next to James.
With a hard calmness, his eyes narrowed, he spits out words at the speed of a machine gun.
It’s too fast for my lip-reading skills.
One thing is certain: Ryker is pissed off. No, he’s furious! Except that for the sake of outsiders, he tries to maintain the appearance of a father-son conversation.
Suddenly, James looks in my direction, and at the last second, I reach for something to eat. I wait two breaths and go back to spying on them.
Ryker’s father takes his phone out of his pocket, taps the screen a few times, and turns it. Blood drain from Ryker’s face and his hands clench into fists. As Ryker speaks slowly, James smirks while staring intently at him.
A shiver runs through my body as I realize what Ryker is saying: “I’ll kill you.”
As Ryker utters those words, he walks past his father and his gaze meets mine. It’s then that I realize I’ve been holding my breath, bracing for the worst. Ryker approaches with a feigned smile, then bends to kiss my forehead once he’s beside me.
“I’m sorry about him,” he says in a hushed voice. I can see the concern in his eyes. He’s not hiding anything it.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to apologize. He’s your father, and you’re not responsible for his words or actions.”
“Had no idea he might show up here today. This isn’t his scene. Either way, he had no right to treat you like that.”
“I’m fine. Like I said, he’s the one giving his testimony.” And that seems to be enough for Ryker, who kisses my forehead once more.
We both try to keep up the facade that everything is okay.
But it’s not.
I’ve met the highest member of the Pact, a person who’s the devil incarnate, from what I already know.
The dynamic between his son and him is tense and heavy, to say the least.
Perhaps Ryker is more my ally than I thought.
Something catches my eye, and I look over Ryker’s shoulder. Up there on the balcony, in almost complete darkness, someone is standing.
My heart beats faster. I’m afraid to blink, lest that person suddenly disappear. But he’s standing there. My father. I know it’s him.
I can see him; I can feel him. Maybe it’s my intuition, or maybe it’s my imagination.
Seeing my shock, Ryker turns on his heel. He mirrors my glance, and I understand the situation is critical. It’s too late. He sees Charles Baker there.
All he does is take a step when I grab him firmly by the arm. We both keep our eyes fixed on the balcony, and we see the man shrouded in darkness turn and leave through the door hidden behind the curtain.
Ryker wants to go after our target, but I grab him even tighter. In that moment, I realize I have to do something.
“What’s wrong, Ash?” Ryker’s questioning gaze falls on me. “He’s there. Let’s finally get him. I want to plunge a knife into his throat.”
“No.” I hold him tighter.
“What do you mean, no? Ash, we have our target within reach.”
“I know, Ryker. I’ll explain everything, but you can’t kill him.”
“Can’t kill him?” The disbelief in his voice is clear. “Why not?”
My throat is as dry as a desert. Thoughts race through my head at the speed of light. Inside, I’m struggling like a caged animal. I don’t know what to do!
Oh, God!
I really hope I won’t regret what I’m about to do.
Don’t let me regret it.
I take a risk and open up a little more to this man. Only then do I answer him. “Because Charles Baker is my father.”