Chapter 30
THIRTY
LIAM
Ryker takes us to another campsite to get an actual shower, and this time I borrow his sandals so I don’t have to step on the floor itself. He apparently knows all the campsites in the entire country or something, but I’m not complaining.
“The swelling’s gone down a bit,” Ryker says once I’m dressed. “It won’t bruise too badly.”
I give him a confused look, and he taps on my cheek.
Oh. Right.
“I’m so fucked,” I bemoan. “Getting beaten up the night Redding disappeared? Not reporting anything to the police?” My eyes go directly to Ryker’s. “What if people think it’s you?”
“Isn’t that better for you?” Ryker says. He ruffles my damp hair. “We’ll figure something out.”
He’s being weirdly nice.
“No, it’s not better for me! I want to ride off into the sunset with you, with Gran’s full blessing. She’d find a way to get you arrested if she thought you were beating me up,” I tell him. I lean in for a kiss even as I try to figure out how the hell to play this off.
The bruises around my wrists and neck, the bleeding on my chest, and now this beating? What the fuck am I supposed to tell Ms. Lockheart?
Do I tell her about Redding at all? I think that’s something I’m supposed to tell my lawyer. On the other hand, my dad is paying her, so I don’t know how much I can trust her to have my best interests at heart, either.
“Maybe I rescued you,” Ryker says as we get into the car.
The faint blood smell is gone, thanks to Ryker leaving the trunk open all night and scrubbing it with bleach. He’s going to get a new car though.
“You did rescue me,” I point out.
“Which makes it the perfect story. The less you lie, the better.” Ryker drives us out of the state park. I don’t think he even paid to get in, but he does have one of those park pass things on the dashboard. “Keeping up with lies is always a hassle.”
“You lie all the time,” I point out. “Like your name. And your job.”
“I always use the same fake name. And I don’t lie about my job. I do all sorts of corporate consulting.” Ryker turns the volume up on the podcast.
He makes it all sound so easy. Last night, it felt like it would be.
Now, I’m realizing there’s a reason Ryker was always so damn careful.
“Okay, so you rescued me from… a mugging?” I say. “Someone outside of a gay bar? You were meeting me there? Except there’s no evidence I was anywhere near one, and we were out camping.”
I grimace.
I don’t like this. There are so many ways this can backfire. But the only other option is to blame Ryker and say that he’s the one who took up his fists against me.
“Who knows we went camping?” Ryker asks. “I took you to my motel. You can be with me when I check out, so the clerk will remember you if asked. And the security cameras at that place don’t actually work, which is why I go there.”
“This is why I need a teacher,” I tell him. I don’t think I could’ve come up with all of this on my own.
Though the lying is going to be up to me. I’m the one who’s going to have to pull this off.
“Do you think I should go to the police?” I continue, my brow furrowing.
“Absolutely not.” Ryker gives me an exasperated look.
“You’re high profile enough that they’d actually look for a random mugger.
You don’t want them to do any investigating.
The longer it takes for them to start looking, the less evidence there is.
People’s memories erode. Right now, Maggie can say she wasn’t with you last night.
In a year’s time? She won’t remember what happened on any specific day this month. ”
I nod, gnawing on my bottom lip as I think. “I’m gonna have to deal with Ms. Lockheart. The FBI might come sniffing around about Redding’s disappearance, and they’ll be aggravating about it.”
“It’s Saturday,” Ryker says. “If the FBI takes weekends the way normal people do, that gives you leeway until Monday. Just lay low, avoid talking to them, and, and I don’t know, check yourself into rehab or something. One of those ‘no outside contact’ places.”
“I don’t wanna go back to rehab,” I complain. But it might be worth it, and it would cause enough of a splash to where it wouldn’t make things look weird if I stopped going out as much afterwards… and disappeared in a few months.
“Back to?” Ryker shakes his head. “Of course you were in rehab. You sampled too many of those party drugs?”
“You could say that,” I tell him evasively, only to sigh when he gives me a look — a capital L kind of look — and add, “Yeah. I went overboard one night, mixed drugs with drinks, and I got sick. Maggie called 911, and next thing I knew, I was shipped off for rehab.”
“Looks like she cares about you.” Ryker lets out a small sigh. “I don’t really get it.”
“Get what?” I ask. “Caring about me?”
After he said I was his, this better not be him confessing that he doesn’t do feelings at all.
Ryker shrugs. “Nah. I apparently want to keep you around. But in general. Caring. My parents were in tears over my brother. Even my nieces and nephew are sad about their piece of shit dad being dead, and I’m just… whatever.”
“I would care if you died,” I say thoughtfully. “And Gran. And probably Maggie too, even if she is a pain in the ass.”
And even if she isn’t going to understand my life taking a complete 180 today when I check myself back into rehab with a sob story about how I’m tired of drugs and booze taking over my life.
“You’re more normal than I am,” Ryker says. Then he shoots me a grin. “But not that normal. I don’t think anyone else would get hard when threatened with dismemberment.”
I smirk back at him. “What can I say? I’m not only pretty, but I’m also special. In oh-so-many ways.”
I can’t believe everything I’m agreeing to, all for the sake of placating Ryker.
For the sake of being with Ryker.
We listen to a full podcast episode about a cold case from last year, some mysterious death in New Valence. The host makes it sound like a curse killed the victim, rather than any of the much more credible suspects.
Even if I could, I wouldn’t curse anyone to die. I want to see them suffering in real time.
It’s around noon when we check out of Ryker’s motel, then he drives me to my place.
“Don’t invite Maggie,” Ryker says. “You aren’t fit for company right now.”
“Wasn’t planning on it,” I tell him, shaking my head. “I’ll text her on the way to rehab or whatever. By the time I’m out, the bruises will have faded and I can sell her my story on what happened. Drug deal gone wrong, I guess.”
Ryker puts his hands on my shoulders, right there on the street in front of my building’s security cameras. “I’m going to be really, really disappointed if you somehow fuck things up in two months,” he says.
I gaze at him, admiring his handsome face. Ugh, I want that perfect mouth on my cock again. “I’m not planning on it,” I tell him. “Rehab, lying low for a little while, then when you get back… We bail. By then, everything will have died down.”
I hope.
Ryker nods and grips my chin. “Be a good little brat while I’m gone, Liam.” He presses his lips against mine.
I kiss him back — eager, hungry, desperate. “I’ll call you when I’m out,” I promise him. “You’d better answer.”
“I probably won’t have anything better to do,” Ryker responds. He kisses me again, longer than before, and I start to get dizzy from the lack of air and from his taste and scent and just… him.
I groan in disappointment when Ryker pulls away from me.
“If you don’t have a phone in rehab…” Ryker opens the driver side door. “I guess that means I can’t call you. You won’t be able to get permission to come.”
I roll my eyes. “You wouldn’t give me permission anyway,” I retort.
“I might have!” Ryker laughs and gets into the car. “I’ll see you soon, brat.”
I watch him drive off, then run a hand through my hair. I’m still wearing his clothes, and I fully plan to bring his t-shirt with me to rehab so I can wear it at night.
I really am weirdly gone for him.
Only when I can no longer see his car do I head into the lobby of the building. I avoid getting too close to the front desk, instead heading straight for the elevator. Thankfully, no one else is around, and I get up to my condo without incident.
My phone rings right as I’m hanging up my keys, and I perk up.
A look at the display tells me it’s Maggie, not Ryker, and I debate not answering. But I was going to call her either way, so I might as well talk to her now.
“Hey,” I say, putting the phone against my ear. “How’s my favorite bestie?”
“Terrible,” Maggie answers, and she really does sound like shit. “I invited Rebecca over and made a pass at her. She flat out rejected me. She said she didn’t think of me as anything but a friend. Ugh. I got friend-zoned and I don’t even believe in the friend zone!”
No one can say I didn’t try to warn her.
But instead of saying I told you so, I reply, “There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Hot fish. Fish that deserve you and aren’t hung up on some rando.”
I wonder if Rebecca is still seeing the guy whose name I can’t even remember. He hadn’t left much of an impression.
“Lesbian fish. Where do I catch lesbian fish, Liam?” Maggie sighs loudly. “Ugh. I got so fucking drunk last night. Sorry I ditched our hangout. I mean, I was going to bail because of Rebecca, then I thought I could go after all, but… yeah. Drunk at home.”
Oops.
I’d forgotten all about our hangout.
“I went out by myself,” I tell her. I pause, taking in a deep breath like I give a fuck about what I’m about to tell her. “I’m going back to rehab, Mags. I got fucked up pretty hard last night.”
There’s a long pause.
“Uh, Maggie?” I probe.
“No. Um.” I hear rustling on the other end, like she’s getting back into bed. “Because I wasn’t there?”
“No!” I say quickly. “It wasn’t like that. I was having fun, but I wasn’t paying attention. Next thing I knew, Rider was picking me off the pavement, and I don’t remember anything about it.” I sigh. “You know I’ve been trying to make good changes, good choices, and I messed up.”
I almost feel bad that she’s going to blame herself for this supposed bad trip, but it’s a perfect way to establish an alibi and set everything into motion.
“Oh.” Maggie huffs loudly. “Lucky that Rider was there.”
“Don’t,” I warn her, going to flop on the couch. “Don’t blame yourself, and don’t get pissy that he was there, either. You’re still my best friend, but I really, really need you to lay off him. He treats me so well, Maggie.”
And he does.
Who else would’ve murdered an FBI agent for me and shown me his insides?
“I wasn’t going to!” she says defensively.
“I know you like him. I’ve just been worried.
But not worried enough to be there for you, huh?
” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Some friend I’ve been.
I got so caught up with Rebecca…” She groans loudly.
“Don’t go to rehab though, Liam. We can stay out of the clubs for a week, let your system recover, and then we can go back to having fun! ”
“But is it fun?” I hedge. “I don’t think I had fun last night, Maggie. What are we even doing with our lives? Getting high and drunk is getting kind of old.”
I brace myself for Maggie to disagree.
Very quietly, she answers, “Yeah. I know.”
I’m absolutely stunned. “You know?”
“I lied. About what Rebecca said.” Maggie lets out a small sob.
“She said I’m pathetic. That I need to get a real life.
A job. That I’m fun to hang out with, but I’m not partner material for anyone, and that she likes Carl because he actually does something with his life.
” More sobbing. “She might have said the last part because I insulted Carl.”
“Aww, Maggie,” I say, and I wonder what Rebecca would look like with her entrails being pulled out of her bit by bit.
Maybe I could make an exception to my ‘no women’ standard.
But I’d promised Ryker I’d behave, and murdering Rebecca sounds more like front-page news than ‘laying low.’
“Are we bad friends, Liam?” Maggie asks, still sobbing. “Did we fuck each other up? She said… she said I had to stop being so codependent with you.”
I don’t like hearing her cry.
“Maybe,” I say. “I…” I grimace. She’s not going to like it when I bail on her in a few months, but I’m not sticking around for her. Not when being with Ryker promises so much more than high society and partying and drinking and getting high.
It promises a new chapter.
The murder is a plus, too.
“Maybe you should do therapy, too,” I say. “I decided last night that I’m going to do something with myself. I don’t know what. Not working at my dad’s company because fuck that shit. But something that’s mine.”
She hiccups into the phone a few times before saying, “Yeah. I guess. I mean, I know you’re probably right. My aunt’s been raving about some therapy retreat down in North Carolina. I could give that a go.”
“Yeah,” I encourage her. “You do that, and I do this stint in rehab, then we figure out where to go from there.”
It actually sounds pretty good.
“But drop Rebecca. That was fucked up of her,” I continue. “We can make better friends.”
Maggie laughs shakily. “Won’t be a problem. She already has me blocked on all our socials.”
I remind myself that I don’t want to create a splash on the front page.
Never mind that I’d just told Maggie to drop her; it’s another thing entirely for Rebecca to have been the one to block Maggie.
“Bitch,” I mutter. “Look, Mags. You get in touch with your aunt, and I’m gonna pack and get ready to go to this place. It’s practically a fancy resort, honestly. It’ll be like a vacation, just with some therapy and affirmations and whatever.”
“Okay. But don’t forget me while you’re in the clink!” Maggie jokes.
I snort. “Yeah, there’s no way I could ever forget you,” I say. “Let’s do this.”
We wrap up the call, with Maggie immediately texting me afterwards with a link to her therapy resort. It looks more resort than therapy, but hey. At least she’ll have fun.
My phone buzzes with a new text.
Rider
Did you know 89% of Maine is covered in forests?
Liam
Did you know that 75.2% of statistics are made up on the spot?
No, seriously. Sounds like we should visit Maine.
But with lots of bug spray.
I grin down at my phone, but I get up so I can start packing a suitcase. With my connections, it’ll take me all of five minutes to get approved to head in. There’s no point in waiting and giving the FBI time to try to catch me off guard.
And in two months… Ryker and I will find new ways to make people disappear.