Chapter 6
6
RYKER
I shouldn’t have been watching.
The screen cast a dim glow in the dark, the grainy black-and-white feed flickering with the quiet rise and fall of her breathing. Isabel was curled on her side, one arm tucked under her cheek, the other resting lightly against her stomach. Soft. Unaware. The pale sheets tangled around her legs, the strap of her tank top slipping down one shoulder, exposing smooth skin to the glow of the bedside lamp she’d left on.
She slept with the light on.
Something about that made my chest tighten.
The camera was one of three I’d installed earlier that day, tucked away in places she wouldn’t think to look. Not because I wanted to invade her privacy. Not because I wanted to see her like this—vulnerable, breathing in slow, even pulls, lips parted like she’d been in the middle of a dream before rolling onto her side.
No. This wasn’t about want.
It was my job.
That’s what I told myself as I took another slow sip of whiskey. Will trusted me to keep her safe. He’d asked me to step in, to handle things while he was overseas, and I didn’t take that kind of responsibility lightly. If something happened to her, it would be on me.
But that wasn’t why I was still watching.
I leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly as I dragged a hand over my jaw. The feed cycled between the different angles—the front door, the fire escape outside her bedroom, the small entryway where she dropped her keys every night after work. All clear. All quiet.
No threats.
No excuses to keep watching.
And yet, I did.
I should have turned it off. I should have shut the laptop, finished my drink, and gotten some damn sleep. But the longer I sat there, the harder it became to look away.
She shifted, the sheets rustling. One leg slid deeper beneath the blanket, her body curling inward like she was protecting something fragile inside herself. I wondered if she still had nightmares.
Will had mentioned them once—something about their father’s death hitting her harder than she let on. I hadn’t asked questions. It wasn’t my place.
It still wasn’t.
I exhaled through my nose, setting the glass down with a quiet thud. This wasn’t good. I’d spent years keeping my distance, letting her exist on the fringes of my awareness. Just Will’s kid sister. The one with the sharp tongue and the soft edges. The one who didn’t belong in my world.
The one I wasn’t supposed to notice.
But I’d noticed her at Dominion Hall. I’d noticed the way she looked up at me, chin tipped in defiance even as her fingers trembled around the stem of her wine glass. I’d noticed the way she squared her shoulders when she was nervous, the way she held herself like she had something to prove.
And now, here I was, breaking my own fucking rules.
A movement near her bedside table caught my attention. Her phone lit up, vibrating softly against the wood. She stirred, murmured something unintelligible, but didn’t wake. The screen dimmed again, casting the room back into shadows.
I glanced at the time.
2:47 AM.
Who the fuck was calling her at this hour?
A muscle ticked in my jaw as I reached for my phone, already pulling up the security logs for her apartment. No visitors. No unusual activity. But that didn’t mean anything.
I typed out a quick message to my contact at the phone company.
Find out who called Isabel at 2:47 AM. Send me a report.
I didn’t like unknown variables. And I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of someone creeping into her life while she was unaware, slipping past her defenses when she thought she was safe.
I leaned forward again, my elbows resting on my knees, my gaze locked on the screen.
Will wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to her.
That was the reason I was watching. That was the only reason.
I forced myself to believe it .
But deep down, I knew the truth.
I wasn’t just keeping her safe.
I was keeping her.
And one day, she’d know it, too.
By the time she stepped out of her building, I was already waiting.
The morning air was thick with the kind of Charleston humidity that clung to your skin before the sun even had a chance to rise properly. Isabel stepped onto the sidewalk, her hair still damp from the shower, her bag slung over one shoulder as she fished through it for something—keys, maybe, or a pair of earbuds to tune out the world.
She didn’t notice me at first.
That was the thing about her. She thought she was careful. Thought she paid attention. But she wasn’t looking in the right places.
Not yet.
I took a slow sip of my coffee, waiting for it to click.
Three steps. Four.
Then she saw me.
She stopped short, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “Are you serious?”
I smirked, holding out the second coffee. “You take it black, right?”
She stared at me like I’d just admitted to reading her diary. “How do you know that?”
I shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”
She didn’t move. I could see the argument forming behind her eyes, but there was something else too— something flickering in the space between annoyance and curiosity.
Finally, she huffed and snatched the cup from my hand. “You don’t need to babysit me, Dane.”
“Not babysitting,” I said, falling into step beside her as she started walking. “Just making sure you get to work in one piece.”
She shot me a look over the rim of her cup. “Pretty sure I managed before you showed up.”
I let out a low hum, tilting my head slightly as I studied her. “Yeah? And how many times have you walked out of this building without checking who’s outside first?”
Her steps faltered. Not by much—just a fraction of a second—but I caught it.
“Jesus,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples. “You’re exhausting.”
I grinned. “That’s not a denial.”
She let out a sharp breath, exasperated, but she kept walking. I liked the way she carried herself when she was irritated—chin up, shoulders tight, her pace just a little too quick, like she thought she could outrun me.
She couldn’t.
I let the silence stretch for a few beats, then, “Why a hotel?”
Her brows pulled together. “What?”
“The job,” I said, glancing over at her. “You went to school for hospitality. I get that. But a hotel? Doesn’t seem like the best place for a young woman to work.”
She snorted. “What does that mean?”
I kept my expression neutral. “Late hours. Drunk guests. A front desk with no real security. You work at one of the biggest hotels in Charleston, which means a lot of people coming in and out. You ever think about what kind of people you deal with on a daily basis?”
Her grip tightened on the coffee cup. “Wow, thanks for the insight. Here I was thinking I worked at Disneyland.”
I hid my smirk behind another sip of coffee. “I’m serious, Isabel.”
“So am I,” she shot back. “You act like I’m in constant danger just because I have a job. You realize people work in hotels every day without spontaneously getting kidnapped, right?”
I didn’t respond right away. Just let the weight of my silence sit between us.
She exhaled, shaking her head. “God, you’re paranoid.”
I shrugged. “I get paid to be paranoid.”
She turned to me then, eyes sharp, like she was searching for something beneath the surface. “And what about when you’re not getting paid? Still paranoid?”
I let the corner of my mouth tug upward. “Call it a habit.”
She rolled her eyes, but I caught the way her fingers flexed slightly against the cup. Like she was considering my words. Like, for the first time, she might actually be listening.
“I like my job,” she said finally, her voice quieter now.
I nodded. “I’m sure you do.”
Her gaze snapped back to mine. “No snide comment?”
I smirked. “Did you want one?”
She let out an annoyed noise, quickening her pace. “Unbelievable. ”
I followed easily, keeping step without effort. “You ever think about doing something else?”
She let out a short laugh. “Oh, sure. Let me just quit my perfectly stable job because some guy decided it’s too dangerous for me.”
“Not some guy,” I said, voice low. “Me.”
That threw her. I saw it in the way her breath caught, in the way she quickly looked away, focusing on the sidewalk instead of me. She wasn’t used to men talking to her like that—flat, certain, like a decision had already been made whether she liked it or not.
She recovered fast, though.
“God,” she muttered under her breath. “You are the worst.”
I grinned. “And yet, here we are.”
She didn’t have a response to that.
The streets blurred as we walked, the city waking up around us. A few vendors were setting up for the day, the scent of fresh bread and strong coffee weaving through the early morning air. Charleston had its own rhythm, one that moved at a different pace than the rest of the world.
Isabel barely noticed any of it.
She was too busy being irritated with me.
I took my time watching her as we moved, cataloging every reaction, every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. She was quick with her words, fast to snap back, but the thing she hadn’t realized yet was that I liked it.
I liked that she wasn’t afraid to push.
That she wasn’t afraid of me.
She should be.
The hotel came into view before she even realized how far we’d walked. I saw it the moment it clicked— how her gaze flickered to the entrance, then back to me, her lips parting slightly.
She barely remembered getting here.
That was what I was good at.
She turned toward me slowly, her expression guarded. “Did you?—”
I raised an eyebrow. “Walk you to work?”
Her jaw tightened. “Manipulate me into walking here without realizing it?”
I smirked. “Same thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “That’s?—”
“Dangerous?” I supplied.
She exhaled sharply. “Annoying.”
I chuckled, stepping back slightly, giving her space. “Go to work, Isabel.”
She didn’t move right away. Just stared at me, her lips pressing together like she was fighting the urge to say something she shouldn’t.
I leaned in slightly, voice dropping lower. “We’ll talk later.”
She rolled her eyes, but I didn’t miss the way her breath hitched slightly before she turned and stalked toward the entrance.
I watched her go.
I should have left. Should have turned and walked the other way.
But I didn’t.
I stood there, sipping my coffee, watching the way she disappeared into the building.
And I waited.
Because I was good at that, too.