Chapter 20
Elara
I wake up the next morning at the ass crack of dawn and Ryder is still sleeping soundly -thanks to those nose strips- next to me. I watch his chest move up and down as he breathes. His hair is messy and ragged. Even his bedhead is attractive. I stare at him in silence, just listening to him breathe. I don’t know why it calms me so much. I have the urge to run my fingers along his chest tattoos, but I decide against it, not wanting to wake him. I can’t help but think about the last few days. I’ve never had a panic attack like that before, but I’m glad he was there to catch me.
After being stuck in this room for what feels like months, it’s getting dreary in here. I know we can’t go anywhere, but I want to liven the place up somehow. As much as I’d like to hope that we won’t be here long, I can’t fully believe we won’t; not with all the uncertainty this entire case has brought. All this shit is pretty time sensitive, but I need a break. And no, the sex wasn’t a break, that was a stress reliever before bed, there’s a difference. I grab Ryder’s phone off the nightstand and search for room decor that won’t void our security deposit. And, yes, I am aware how this is probably a waste of money given the circumstances, but if I need to spend a few extra dollars to get some serotonin, I will. Besides, I’m using Ryder’s money, so it’s free; girl math at its finest.
I found twinkly lights that we can hang around the room and I ordered a couple of those insanely soft blankets that are as big as a king sized bed. As comfortable as this bed is, I’ve never been a fan of hotel sheets. I usually like to strip the sheets off the bed, put them in a corner and just use my own blanket. As soon as I hit order, I quietly get up and scan the room, trying to determine how I should put the lights up.
When the order is delivered, Ryder is still asleep, so I start working and try to remain as quiet as possible. He only wakes when I damn near bust my ass falling off the desk chair, trying to put up the lights. “What the hell? Are you okay?” He asks, hurriedly getting off the bed with his eyes half shut. I’m laughing at my clumsiness while nodding and he gives me what drugs did you take ? look.
“I was trying to decorate this depressing ass room, and I thought it would be a good idea to use the spinning chair to reach the top of the door frame.” I say, belly laughing. He shakes his head as he laughs with me. “You could have woken me. I would prefer no ER visits, El," he replies.
He moves a piece of my hair behind my ear and our eyes meet. I put my arms around his neck as he wraps his around me, rubbing my back, and I place a quick kiss on his lips. “So, how are we decorating?” He asks. A smile grows on my face, reaching my ears and I grab the lights so we can finish putting them up. Afterwards, I took the packaging off the blankets while Ryder stripped the bed, leaving only the fitted sheet and I put down the fresh blankets. We turned every light in the room off, so all that’s left is the strings of lights strewn across the room. Our own personal hideaway. Even if we do end up having to stay longer than we’d like, at least it’s pleasant to be here.
???
“Did your code breaking/hacking antics pull anything else from Sebastian’s computer?” I ask, opening the laptop. “Well, if I did it right, there should be a way to get into his emails.” He says, sitting down at the desk. He begins typing random keys that have no connection in my eyes, but he’s the hacker .
“Okay, here we go.” he rubs his hands together before getting up and I sit in his spot. I have both pages open with the files on one and the other with the emails. If I can make a connection between these, I might be able to present it as evidence. I switch between the windows, trying to find a matching name. Some eyes may argue that the bank transactions are forgery, but the connection between a political figure's email and Sebastian Harper would be the ticket.
I click the next button at the bottom of the page and a hundred more names show up. I do my normal scroll, click, exit repeatedly, just finding transactions for the same or different amounts, either incoming or outgoing. I check the address list on the emails and I come across a new name. One that’s on both the email list and the bank statements. Adler Neal Wordsworth. A bit of a mouthful for a name. I think for a moment, looking around the room as if the answer is on the walls.
What if it’s an anagram? Just as I start writing out the possibilities, I hear a loud thud. “Ryder?” I call out. I go to turn around but before I can, I feel a sharp pinch and then pain in the side of my neck. I reach up to touch it, but my hand meets a small piece of plastic before it finds my skin. I pull out a three-inch syringe. Oh great. I just got shot with a tranquilizer dart. Hello, hard floor.