CHAPTER 5
EZRA
It’s the last night of the fair and I’m ready for it to be over. Don’t get me wrong, it’s been fun. But I’m exhausted. There’s no doubt in my mind that the kids are going to earn enough to cover the trip.
Ryker’s words from the other night, when he offered to sponsor whatever is needed for the trip if there is a fundraising gap, echoes through my mind. Again.
I have no idea what came over me that night. Walking up to Ryker and talking to him like I have every right to just strike up a conversation? Totally not something I ever thought I would do.
But I had to thank him because every single SOMC business donated, some of them donated multiple items. All for the benefit of some kids who really deserve it.
The last thing I expected was to have a conversation with him, especially not one so flirtatious. I was pretty sure my heart was going to hammer out of my chest the entire time. Then trying the ring toss? It was…fun.
And the last person I should be having fun with is the president of our local motorcycle club. Even if it did feel good and those few minutes were better than any date I’ve been on.
He didn’t look at me like I was just the sheriff’s daughter. He didn’t look at me with any expectations. It was delightful.
I’ve always avoided the club. It felt safer that way and far easier.
Now that I’ve been that close to Ryker? I have even more reason to steer clear.
The man is far too sexy. The muscles! His shirt was straining against the t-shirt he was wearing. I could practically see every single one of his abs. Internally, I was battling with myself because I wanted to lick every single one of them.
Honestly, I can’t even imagine seeing the man shirtless. He has tattoos crawling up his arms and disappearing under his sleeves. I’m incredibly curious about what I would find underneath.
His scent, spruce and cinnamon, wrapped around me in a cozy blanket. I’ve been catching bits of it in the air ever since. Like a phantom of his presence next to me.
I probably made a fool of myself.
Fuck.
While holding up my camera, I plaster on a forced smile and pat Jessi’s arm to get her attention. She looks at me and I try to pretend like I haven’t been thinking filthy thoughts about the last man I should want to get naked with.
“Are you good here? I want to wander around and get some photos before the cake eating contest and the auction winners are announced. We’re closing bidding soon, but I’ll be back before then,” I assure her.
Jessi waves her hand. “Go and get the perfect shot.” She looks around at the kids and giggles. “Honestly, they’ve got it. I don’t even have to be here, but I’m glad to supervise.”
I chuckle before waving slightly and taking one more look around. She’s not fucking wrong. They’ve got it.
As I start to take pictures, capturing moments people only experience in a fleeting way while I freeze them in time, I’m not really paying attention to where I’m headed. It’s not like I have a destination. I’m just following the images, the people, the lights, the sounds.
The laughter of everyone surrounds me and I catch a few shots of people enjoying their night and letting whatever worries they carry with them take a little break. Even if only for a little while.
One of the carnies catches my attention, an older man who has clearly seen a lot of things in his life.
It’s in his eyes. His wrinkled face tells a tale, and I bet he has some tall tales, the kind that flow when a beer is cracked open and someone gives him just a little attention.
I can’t help but smile behind my camera.
And he gets me thinking.
About the difference between the bright lights and smiles versus the job of it all.
The juxtaposition of it is a story in itself.
My need to find that moment, the place where the two meet, has me slipping behind the rides.
I find abandoned parts, cars which have seen better days, and just enough of the bright lights from the other side to remind you of what we’re looking behind.
The fair wouldn’t function without everything that happens behind the scenes, but people only look at the lights. I’m not even sure if it’s something to be changed, but I can capture the stark reality of it with my camera so it can be witnessed.
I’m behind the House of Mirrors, snapping a picture of a broken piece of glass where it’s been abandoned, when I hear the sound of a dog barking. No, barking isn’t quite what this dog is doing. It sounds like it’s thrashing.
I turn and see Bobby Baskin, who was in my class in high school, hand an envelope to a man I’ve never seen before. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s a carnie.
The thrashing and barking get louder, which is when I notice the dog in the cage. It looks feral with the way he’s snarling, his teeth bared. Everything about the dog screams violent and aggressive. What the fuck is going on?
When I bring my camera back up, I snap as many pictures as I can. Bobby slaps the man on the shoulder with a big grin on his face, not at all phased by the dog doing its level best to escape its cage. I can’t help but jerk every time the dog barks. The sound is desperate and filled with rage.
Bobby slides into the front of the truck and my eyebrows pull together because it’s not his truck at all. I take a picture of the license plate, which I can only hope is in focus, just as the carnie turns. He looks right at me and his face morphs from something like triumph to something darker.
I’m moving before I even realize it’s happening. But so is he.
I slip back into the flow of the people walking through the fairgrounds. I don’t have to look behind me to know the man is following me. If I look back, I’m liable to trip or something. Or freak myself all the way fucking out.
Probably both.
My heart is pounding in my chest as my mind races. That dog needed help, not to be sold. Was that even what I saw? I don’t know what was in the envelope. But what else makes sense?
I’m frantically looking around for something. Someone. Anything.
When my gaze locks on my dad, I suck in a sharp breath and it’s like everything clicks into place. Dad has been trying to track a dog fighting ring. It’s been hopping between counties and always seems a few steps ahead. He’s been practically beside himself because of it.
From what I’ve heard, because he would never tell me a damn thing about his cases, there haven’t been any leads, and they have no idea who is behind it all.
The dog I just saw, how it thrashed and bared its teeth, has me practically running toward Dad. His eyes widen slightly when he notices me, but then I’m there, my words breathless, “Dad, I think I just saw something. But then he saw me and I’m sure he’s following me.”
I squeeze my eyes closed for a moment, trying to find the feeling of safety being with my dad should give me. Not just any dad either; the Sheriff. But I don’t have that feeling. Panic is still clawing up my throat and it’s not going away. It’s growing stronger.
When I glance around, I see the carnie. He’s watching me, but he keeps his distance. I’m sure it will only last as long as this conversation does. It’s a scary thought.
The look my dad gives me is patronizing as fuck and ice fills my veins. “Ezra,” his tone is supercilious, like he’s doing me a favor, “you’re not making any sense. You need to calm down.”
“I can show you,” I start and hold up my camera, but he’s already waving his hand dismissively.
“You should grab a bottle of water and hydrate.” He eyes me before adding, “You look flushed.”
My mouth falls open and I shake my camera slightly, as if the action would be enough for him to give a shit about me. You’d think the badge he wears with such pride would garner me a moment of his consideration, at least.
With a pat to my shoulder, he walks away, muttering something I don’t quite catch. That could have something to do with the ringing in my ears. I don’t glance at where I saw the carnie last and walk, quickly, back toward the tent and table.
Which is stupid because I don’t want this man around my kids. But where else can I go?
The way my heart is hammering against my sternum can’t be healthy. I feel like I’m about to pass out and everything is sharp and fuzzy at the same time.
“Ezra,” large hands land on my shoulders as a man’s voice washes over me.
Something happens. Something that should have happened the moment I spotted my dad. The panic ebbs and the feeling of being safe pulls me back from the edge.
My gaze snaps up to meet the gray eyes of Ryker.
“Hey,” his eyebrows pull together and he looks over my head, which isn’t difficult to do, like he’s hunting for the source of whatever he sees on my face, “what’s going on? Are you okay? You look really freaked the fuck out.”
“I need to talk to you,” I whisper the words even though they sound loud in my own head. “In private,” my eyes dart around, and I stiffen when I see the carnie again, my tone turning pleading, “please.”
“Okay,” he sounds skeptical, but he still leads me in the opposite direction of the YIG tent, his hand on my lower back grounds me when I need it most.
I allow him to lead me through the crowd without even thinking about it. It feels natural in a way I’m not used to; there’s trust between us that I only feel with a few people. A very few people.
Maybe I’m just in shock.
At the very least, I thought my dad would keep me safe. He might have had high expectations of me, and there were times when it felt like there was nothing that I could do to live up to them, but I never thought to question whether he would protect me.
Now I’m questioning everything.
He’s never listened to me, not really, unless it aligned with what he wanted and the image he was hellbent on protecting.
Dad barely even looked at me but didn’t notice how freaked out I was. I know I wasn’t making a lot of sense, but shouldn’t he have been concerned? Ryker took one look at my face and asked me what was wrong.
That has to count for something. I feel like I’m about to throw up until the moment I’m able to sit down. When I do, I look around realizing Ryker led me to the Ferris Wheel.
“You seemed out of it,” Ryker says and I blink up at him, “but we’ll have complete privacy here.
No one can overhear and we’ll have a few minutes alone.
If we need more time, I’ll bribe the operator.
” He smirks and my gaze snaps down to the movement which has heat rushing through it. “He’d take it.”
“Okay,” I breathe out and close my eyes for a moment.
When I open them again, I look around, but don’t see the guy who was following me earlier. I’m not sure how I feel about that.
“You’re starting to freak me out a little bit, Teach,” Ryker’s voice is a mixture of wariness and amusement which cracks through some of my fear.
I shake my head slowly and take a breath. “Right,” I start to say right as we start to get moving, “I was taking pictures and kind of wandered behind the rides. No one was really out there; I was just snapping away.” My face scrunches up because now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds stupid.
“Yeah,” Ryker rumbles, “we’ll circle back to that.”
Something flashed across his face when I mentioned my photography, but it was there and gone so fast that I’m not sure what it was. Odd, but nothing I have the mental capacity to take on at the moment.
As if it’ll prove what I’m about to say, I kind of shove my camera toward him. He doesn’t take it.
“I heard a dog barking and snarling like it was fighting for its life. When I looked toward the sound, I saw Bobby handing some guy an envelope. Then he got in the truck with the dog in the cage in the bed and he drove away.” I swallow hard.
It felt like it took so long, but as I tell Ryker what happened, the whole thing happened so fast.
I shove my camera at Ryker again and, this time, he takes it. “Why are you handing me your camera?”
With a wave of my hand in its direction, as if I could show him by magic, “I got pictures of the whole thing.”
“Then you should go to your dad and show him. It could have been a legit sale of the dog,” he tries to reason with me.
I’m shaking my head before he even finishes. “That’s not even the worst part,” I tell him and grimace, wishing I could enjoy the view as our carriage moves slowly. “The guy turned and saw me. He immediately started to come after me. I took off.”
Ryker sits up straighter, his gaze moving down to the fair as if he’ll be able to identify the threat. I yank my camera from his hands and pull up the photos, showing him while scrolling through them slowly.
“See?” I shrug, feeling deflated. Maybe I overreacted? “I don’t know. I just, it didn’t feel like just a normal sale? I can’t explain it.” My gaze moves out toward the horizon. I can see town center in the distance and the beauty that is my home surrounding me.
But none of it really registers.
I don’t look at Ryker as I talk, my voice hollow, “That dog wasn’t being sold in a good way. There was nothing wholesome or right about what I saw.”
“You’re thinking this has to do with the dog fighting ring.”
My gaze snaps to his. Instead of disbelief I see understanding written all over his face. His very handsome face.
I want to reach up and cup his jaw, but I hold myself back. Barely.
When I nod, he pushes again, “Then why not go to your dad?”
“I did,” my words are low and thready. They hold the pain of him walking away from me.
“I saw him first. I saw him and I expected to feel relief, feel safe, but when I tried to tell him what was happening, he didn’t want to hear it.
” My nose scrunches up and I close my eyes before admitting, “I wasn’t making a lot of sense, but he rarely listens to me unless it’s convenient.
” I sigh, hating how bitter I sound. “This time hadn’t gone any better. ”
Warm hands cup my face and my eyes snap open. Ryker is looking down at me with rage roiling in his gray depths. Not at me. For me.
For me.
“You shouldn’t have to justify your fear to anyone. Not your father, not me. No one. I saw the look in your eyes, and I knew you were truly afraid.” His head tilts to the side and I try not to melt against him. It would be so easy to do.
Too easy.
“I don’t want him to find me,” my biggest fear comes out as a whispered confession.
Messy.
Honest.
I search his eyes and decide, for once, to be brave. “Will you help me?”
Ryker doesn’t say anything for a long time and the Ferris Wheel stops. Without looking I know we’re at the very top. I can feel the breeze and my gut twists.
Not because of how high we are.
But because I can feel it—the change.
“I’ll protect you, Ezra,” his words are a gentle rasp, but they turn wicked as he clarifies, “as long as you follow my rules. We do this my way.”
“That sounds ominous,” my tone is wary to cover the zing of excitement that shoots through me.
Ryker’s hands fall away from my face while his mouth pulls into a smirk that is all sin and fire.
I’m in trouble.
And I’ve never felt safer.