Chapter 26
26
RYKER
I couldn’t fucking believe what had happened.
Isabel had unlocked something in me—something I never thought I’d feel again, something I didn’t even realize I’d buried.
Memories.
Not the ones that came in sharp, violent flashes, the ones soaked in blood and regret. These were different. Good memories. Vivid, colorful, alive.
I could almost smell the salt in the air, feel the sun baking my skin as I raced across the sand, my feet kicking up hot grains that stuck to my legs. I could hear the crash of the waves, the distant call of seagulls, the laughter of my brothers as we tried to catch waves on second-hand surfboards, boards that were too small or too warped, but we made them work.
We made everything work.
We fished with poles made from scraps of driftwood and twine, cast our lines into the shallows, waiting for a bite. And when we weren’t doing that, we ran—ran as fast as we could down the shoreline, kicking up water, daring each other to push harder, go faster. For a time, I swore I was the fastest man in the world.
Isabel lay beside me, her bare shoulder brushing against mine. Her warmth grounded me, pulled me out of the memories and back into the present, but the past was still there, running just beneath the surface, closer than it had been in years.
I turned my head slightly, my gaze landing on her. She was waiting. She knew I had more to say.
So I told her.
I told her how seven brothers grew up in an old house on the water on Sullivan’s Island with a single father who, despite everything—despite the long hours, the late nights, the weight he carried—always made time for his kids.
“We didn’t have a lot,” I admitted. “Besides the house, besides each other. But we had peanut butter sandwiches on white bread. We had fresh seafood when we caught it. And at night, we had my father, sitting in the living room, reading to us from that week’s book.”
Isabel’s lips curved slightly, her fingers still moving against my skin. “He read to you?”
I nodded, my throat suddenly tight. “Every damn night. Didn’t matter what kind of day he had. Didn’t matter if he came home looking like he’d been through hell. He’d sit down in that old chair, and we’d pile around him, listening.”
“What did he read?”
I let out a breath of something that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Everything. Pat Conroy, Danielle Steele, Clancy, Grisham. He didn’t care what it was, as long as it was well-written. He insisted we be well-read.”
She smiled at that, and for a moment, I let myself feel the warmth that came with remembering .
Then her expression softened, her voice quieter when she asked, “What happened to him?”
My stomach clenched. I wasn’t sure why I told her. Maybe it was the way she looked at me, the way she listened without judgment. Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, I wanted someone to know.
I turned onto my side, propping myself on an elbow as I ran a hand down my face. “One night, while I was deployed, my father disappeared.”
She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe. She just watched me, waiting.
I exhaled slowly, forcing myself to keep going. “It wasn’t until later that we found the note. It told us the truth. That he worked special projects for the State Department from time to time. That he’d spent years freelancing for the Agency. That he’d been slowly building something for us—a nest egg.”
Her brows pulled together. “A nest egg?”
I gave her a slow nod. “That nest egg turned out to be a fortune worth billions. And we still don’t know where it came from. One day I got a call from my father’s attorney, and the next day there were a lot of numbers with zeroes behind them in a lot of different accounts.”
She sucked in a breath, her fingers stilling against my arm. I saw the calculations running through her head, the attempt to put together a puzzle with pieces she hadn’t even known existed.
I kept going. “We were all in the military, building our own careers. But we made a pact.” I swallowed hard. “We agreed to get out. As soon as we could. And we’d put everything into Dominion Defense.”
I ran a hand through my hair, shaking my head. “I was the first to leave the service. I had to pave the way. The others followed. And for years, we’ve combed the globe, searching for him.”
Silence settled between us. I expected her to look at me like I was insane. Like I was a man obsessed with a ghost. But when I met her eyes, there was no judgment. No disbelief.
Just compassion.
It hit me harder than I expected.
Something in my chest pulled, tightened in a way I didn’t understand, didn’t fucking like. I had no use for softness, for sympathy, for the quiet kind of understanding that lived in her eyes. But here she was, looking at me like I wasn’t some kind of monster.
Like I was something worth saving.
I clenched my jaw, looking away.
It was dangerous to feel this way about her. To want her like this. But right then, I made myself a promise.
I would do anything to keep her safe.
Even if it meant giving up my own life.