16. Ripley
CHAPTER 16
RIPLEY
START A WAR – KLERGY nothing else mattered to me.
“I… need a moment,” I choke out.
“Of course.” Elliot gestures for his cameraman to stop rolling. “Would you like some more water?”
“Just… air. I need air.”
Tugging the clip-on microphone from my lapel, I toss the handful of wires onto my chair then flee. The doors to the soundproof studio slam shut behind me.
Several startled employees working for the production company look up as I run past, though none look surprised. I bet I’m not the only interviewee who’s ran from that damn camera.
The elevator ride is a painfully long wait that only adds to the pressure squeezing my throat tight. Finally breaking outside, the hustle and bustle of Central London is an unwelcome slap in the face.
I’m almost mowed over by a distracted commuter when a strong hand clamps around my bicep. Dragged out of the way, I’m propped against the wall of the huge glass skyscraper.
“You promised to let me do this alone,” I pant raggedly. “I don’t need a private security team.”
“No, we promised not to follow you inside.”
Tall, muscled and coated head to toe in tattoos, Hudson Knight is an intimidating force of nature. He’s never caught out of black clothing, and there’s an earpiece tucked beneath his chaotic mop of raven hair.
A few paces behind him, two others stand at ease. I stare into Warner’s familiar baby blues. Along with Hyland, his number two, they’re both members of Sabre Security’s ruthless Anaconda Team.
“Ripley?” Hudson prompts.
When I turn back to him, his gaze is boring into me, a pierced eyebrow quirked in challenge. I should’ve known Kade would send his brother to hold the perimeter. He got all uptight and stressed when I mentioned that I’d accepted this interview request.
“I don’t need the head of Sabre Security here to keep me safe.”
“Technically, I’m only one half.” He smirks at me. “Nobody would put me in charge of the company on my own.”
“You’re right about that. The place would crumble.”
“Precisely,” Hudson drawls. “So where’s the fire?”
Pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, he lights up and takes a long drag. I eye the tempting little death stick. Never been much of a smoker, but right now, I’d take a stiff shot of vodka and a fucking sedative.
Hudson rolls his eyes and surrenders the cigarette to me. “You don’t smoke.”
“I don’t do a lot of things.”
My hands tremble violently as I hold it between my lips and inhale deeply. Smoke fills my struggling lungs, causing me to splutter. The amused look on Hudson’s face is gonna get him punched in a moment.
“Not sure smoking is the answer,” he comments.
“Please leave the therapy shit to Jude. You’re no good at it.”
Hudson snorts. “Fair enough.”
With Hyland and Warner keeping a close eye on us, we stand in silence. It’s a welcome reprieve after hours of relentless questioning and reliving the past. I tune the hustle and bustle of England’s capital city out.
Although I feel less trapped outside the confines of the blacked-out TV studio, it takes time for me to calm down. We’ve been talking non-stop. I’m exhausted and we’ve still barely scratched the surface of the story.
“I don’t know why you’re even doing this interview.” Hudson lights his own cigarette. “These producers have been trying to pin us all down for years. It isn’t worth the hassle.”
“Not all of us have been able to move on, Hud.”
“You think we’re not still haunted by the shit that went down?” He shakes his head, pulling in a long draw of nicotine. “You’re not the only one who can’t forget. But that doesn’t mean I’d entertain some clickbait interview.”
Shrugging, I take another drag. I’m not going to judge how he’s chosen to cope—how any of them have. We’ve all managed in our own ways. But this is my decision, and I made it for a reason.
“My point is, you don’t have to do this.”
“No.” Feeling steadier, I drop the cigarette and stomp on it. “I don’t have to do it. I need to do it.”
“What about the backlash? You ready for that?”
“Well, it’s a good thing I know the country’s top private security company then, isn’t it?”
Hudson drops a strong hand on my shoulder. “We can handle threats to your safety. I’m more worried about the impact the shit people will say about what we all did to survive will have.”
“I don’t care what people think.”
“Then why put yourself through this?”
Placing my hand on top of his, I lightly squeeze. “I’m not looking for their forgiveness, Hud. I’m looking for my own.”
He sighs, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “Then I’m not letting you do this alone.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“It’s not for your benefit.” Hudson puts out his cigarette then gestures for me to head back inside. “If Brooke heard that I’d sent you back up there alone, she’d serve my fucking balls for breakfast.”
With a nod to Hyland and Warner, remaining on guard outside, we head back inside the building. Hudson’s scruffy jaw is set in a hard line as he follows me into the elevator and back upstairs.
“You know the interviewer is going to shit himself when he sees you’re with me. He’s been fishing for the scoop on Blackwood for hours.”
Hudson chuckles. “He can dream on.”
“Just play nice, alright?”
“I’m always nice.”
“Sure. You’re a fluffy fucking teddy bear.”
“Damn straight,” he echoes.
Walking back into the studio, several assistants do a comical double take at the wall of glowering, inked muscle escorting me. Sabre Security has had many high-profile cases in recent years. Hudson’s scowl is well known, much to his chagrin.
“Ripley.” Elliot stands as I walk back into the interview room. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine. I just needed a moment.”
“Of cou…”
He trails off as Hudson stalks in behind me, his trademark intimidating glower in place. This was a fucking terrible idea. The man is incapable of playing nice, and I don’t trust him to keep a cool head if he sticks around to listen.
“My security detail wishes to be present,” I try to explain.
Elliot sticks out a hand to be shaken. “Perhaps your security detail would care for a microphone too? I’ve been following your story for a long time, Mr Knight.”
Lip curled, Hudson eyes Elliot’s hand with disgust and doesn’t take it. “No doubt.”
Clearing his throat, Elliot drops his hand.
“I’ll be right over here, Rip.” Hudson takes his position in the corner of the room.
I pick up the microphone and reclip it to my lapel. Warily eyeing Hudson, Elliot sits back down and picks his notebook up. Once I’m comfortable, he instructs the cameraman to resume rolling.
“Where were we?” I sigh.
“What happened after the attack?”
I wring my fingers together, letting the past drag me back.
“I thought all I wanted was revenge. But what do you do when you’re led to slaughter with no chance of escape? When your enemies are in fact your only allies?”
Heart pounding, I touch the scars on my arm again. They aren’t the only marks I left Harrowdean with. Some scars I hate less than others. Some were made by force, and others I took willingly. My hand lifts to my throat, absently tracing the thin knife line there.
Hatred breeds insanity.
And all we had in hell was each other.