Chapter Fifteen - Rachel #2
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say, leaving before he can object.
I’m halfway to the bar when I feel his presence behind me, but when I turn, the stress eases when a large man steps in Ryder’s path, stealing his attention.
Before I turn back to the bar, I catch Ryder’s gaze, which clearly says we need to talk.
Coming here tonight was a huge mistake.
I should’ve known Ryder would pull something like this. He wants me—but never enough to put me first. I can’t act surprised. I’ve always known where his priorities lie, but I refuse to settle for second place.
Third, when including Lyla.
I’m making my way back to the capos’ dates—vodka martini in hand—when that sickening feeling grips me.
Someone’s watching me.
My skin crawls, and I can’t help my need to cross my arms over my body like I can somehow protect it from this invisible scrutiny. Like every other time this feeling has hit, I scan my surroundings for anything that could be the source.
Unlike every other time, I find an answer.
Harris talks animatedly to Knox, who doesn’t appear to be listening, but the man who stands with them turns his attention to me.
Briggs.
He’s glaring daggers, and I can’t, for the life of me, understand why he’d direct such hostility my way.
He looks away as soon as our eyes meet, and it’s then that I realize I’ve stopped walking. I glance around to ensure Ryder is still occupied, then continue my walk to the other women when I confirm that he is.
Ava goes on about some antique shop she frequents, but I can barely hear her. I find myself sneaking glances at Briggs, who doesn’t appear to notice or doesn’t let on if he does.
I tell myself to stop staring, but when I look again—Briggs is gone.
I find him only a moment later, moving through the crowd and sending quick glances around as if ensuring he’s going unnoticed. Even the other capos seem oblivious to Briggs’s disappearance, and the feeling that settles in the pit of my stomach demands that I do something about it.
My fingers unconsciously grip the charm around my neck.
I am not helpless. I am not weak.
These are the words I repeat to myself on a loop as I navigate through the crowd, careful to keep sight of Briggs as he presses on in front of me. He walks through a set of old double doors, turning left toward what’s labeled The Mirror Hall.
This part of the building is nearly empty. A few guests linger near the bathrooms, paying me no mind. I keep moving, following the same path Briggs must have taken.
The floors are white marble, with gold-crested pillars on either side of the walkway. Each step amplifies the sharp click of my heels, like a beacon giving me away. I pause, slip them off, and continue barefoot. With my heels in one hand, clutch in the other, I tiptoe down the hall.
I reach the end of the hall, where it breaks in either direction, but when I hear voices murmuring, I quickly duck into a room with its door cracked open. I almost close it but decide I don’t want to make any noise if I can help it.
When I turn to see what room I’ve ended up in, my muscles freeze, my blood runs cold, and my lungs refuse to pull in air.
The room is small, but one wall is entirely made of glass, giving a clear view into the large, mirror-filled room with half a dozen men lining the walls, all holding a large gun I couldn’t name. Two more men stand in the center of the room.
One of them is big—maybe seven feet tall—with a bald head, scruffy beard, and a nasty scowl. The other man is Briggs, who, though he’s shorter, shows no sign of being intimidated.
“You better start talking because I won’t stand for my time to be wasted,” Briggs spits.
I wait, frozen in fear for someone to notice my unwanted presence, but none of them—not even the soldiers who have a clear line of sight to me—glance my way. That prompts me to take a closer look at the room I’m in.
My breath catches with the realization. The wall in front of me isn’t just glass—it’s a one-way mirror. I can see them, but they can’t see me.
My relief is minimal and lessens even more so when Tall Guy puffs his chest at Briggs. “The Sheriff’s Department is cracking down on substance control in my crew’s territory. You’re going to have to up our profit to make it worth the risk we’re taking to sell your products.”
Briggs’s laugh is bone-chilling. “You knew the risks when you agreed to take this job in the first place. You’ll get paid the exact amount we agreed on.”
“That’s not going to be enough for my guys.”
“That’s not my problem.”
Tall Guy cracks a taunting smile. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but if you’re not going to raise our profit, my guys may be inclined to work with the Sheriff’s department for immunity if they feel they’re in danger of being made.”
With that, he walks to the door located directly next to the one I went through—just on the other side of this glass.
My body goes rigid the closer he gets to me.
Briggs doesn’t move after him, but as Tall Guy nears one of the soldiers by the exit, one wave of Briggs’s hand is all they need to spring into action.
Two of the soldiers move in sync, each grabbing one of Tall Guy’s shoulders and slamming his head into the pane of glass less than a foot away from me.
It happens so fast that I jump back with a loud gasp.
Only the sound never passes my lips—thanks to the hand that covers my mouth.
My eyes bulge, and my stomach sinks with horror at what I’ve gotten myself into when a certain scent creeps into my nostrils.
Pineapple and bergamot.
Ryder.
His arms trap me, and I’m too shocked to fight against him.
I watch in stunned silence as Briggs slowly trudges toward Tall Guy, who is dazed by the blow to his head.
As Briggs walks, he takes out his handgun from a holster his blazer concealed, and I realize that each of the capos likely came here armed.
“Did you really think you could just come in here and wave your threats around?” Briggs asks, cruel amusement dripping from the words.
With a sharp nod from Briggs, a soldier kicks Tall Guy’s legs out from under him. He crumples, barely catching himself before another soldier wrenches his arm and slams his palm to the floor.
“You know, I’m feeling generous today, so if you start groveling now, I might consider letting you live.”
“You—you can’t kill me!” Tall Guy insists, but his voice is void of confidence.
In one fast motion, Briggs lowers himself to the ground and slams the butt of his gun on one of the man’s fingers.
“Close your eyes,” Ryder whispers in my ear at the same time the man’s wail pierces the otherwise silent room.
I do as Ryder says and squeeze my eyes closed like my life depends on it.
The next ten minutes are straight out of a horror film.
Briggs takes his time crushing each one of the man’s fingers, then moves on to breaking his nose before pummeling his face until the groaning becomes pleading sobs. He only lets the man go once he’s begged for his life and agreed to cut their current rate in half.
“This was lenient—generous even,” Briggs says. “Mr. Moreno wouldn’t be so kind if he heard that you’ve been giving us trouble. Am I going to have to tell him you’re giving us trouble?”
“N-no,” the man sputters in a mangled groan.
“Good,” Briggs clips, and I hear shuffling footsteps grow faint as the room clears.
I don’t open my eyes when everything goes silent. I don’t open my eyes when Ryder releases me. I don’t even open my eyes when I hear the door of the small room click shut.
It’s only when I feel Ryder’s hands pushing me against the wall—trapping me between it and his body—that I finally open my eyes.
And I wish I hadn’t.
Whatever relief I felt from staying hidden shatters when I meet Ryder’s eyes.
Storm clouds.
No—storm clouds are nothing compared to the fury I’m staring into.
This is a hurricane right before the apocalypse and the end of the freaking world.
It doesn’t help that we’re even closer now than we’d been on the dance floor. He’s no longer dominating my space—he is my space. Everything around me fades, and there is nothing but Ryder.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he grinds out each word slowly, letting the brutal bite sink in with every syllable. “Do you have any idea what could’ve happened if they’d heard you? Do you want our daughter to grow up without her mother?”
How dare he throw Lyla in my face like I’m the reckless one between us.
“Don’t act like any of the danger I’ve been in is the result of my own choices. If it’s so dangerous for me to be here, why would you bring me?”
He props his elbows against the wall on either side of me, biceps flexing as he invades my space even more somehow. “It wouldn’t have been dangerous if you’d stayed with the women like you were supposed to. You almost compromised a mission that’s been in the works for weeks now.”
“Mission?”
He shoves off the wall so suddenly that I gasp at the loss of closeness. He turns his back to me, rubbing his temple with his thumb and taking long, deep breaths.
I can’t help how my gaze flits between him and the door as I mentally calculate how far I can get before he catches me. My heels are already off, so I don’t have to worry about that.
“Don’t even think about it,” Ryder snaps.
I swear I didn’t say anything out loud. How did he know?
I roll back my shoulders, trying to summon as much bravery as possible. “What’s going on, Ryder?”
He only shakes his head.
“You know, I wouldn’t be able to ruin a mission if you didn’t keep me in the dark all the time.” I scoff and go to the door.
A hand slams against it the second I touch the knob, and I don’t attempt to pull it open. We stand like that for a moment, Ryder’s front pressing into my back.
“A particularly violent gang under our family has been demanding higher pay. As you saw, they went so far as to threaten us. They needed to be put in their place,” he explains.
“Briggs was charged with handling it while Harris and Knox ran security outside. I was supposed to be keeping an eye on the party to make sure no one went to the Sheriff or his team before we got to the gang, which I couldn’t do because I saw you wander after Briggs.
Why the hell did you follow him in the first place? ”
“I just… I had this feeling—”
“You put your life on the line for a feeling?”
The pure mockery flushes my cheeks bright red, and I shove at Ryder’s chest. “My life was perfectly safe, thank you very much,” I bite out. “And yes, I had a feeling that Briggs was harboring—I don’t know… hostility toward me. Toward you.”
To my amazement, Ryder actually laughs. It’s not his genuine laughter, but it’s the nicest sound I’ve heard since coming in here.
“Briggs despises me, but he’s too loyal to do anything against the family.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know—”
One second, there are several feet between us. The next, Ryder’s body traps mine against the door and his hand clamps over my mouth. My eyes flash, and I’m about to struggle against him when I hear faint footsteps in the hall.
“No, sir,” a muffled voice grunts. “I’m positive. He’s been quite distracted tonight.” With each word, he gets closer until I’m sure Briggs is the voice's source.
“Yes, sir,” he says, and since no one responds, I decide he must be on a phone call.
The next words come from directly outside the door Ryder has me pressed against. “The mother of his kid. He brought her along as his date.”
Ryder goes rigid, and his confusion mirrors mine for only a fraction of a second before the realization settles in.
Briggs is talking about Ryder. About us.
“They might’ve left,” he says, voice growing more distant as he continues to walk, but we hear the next statement clear as day. “The other capos don’t have eyes on them, but my men have secured the back. It’ll be a safe meeting place when you get here to take the package.”
There’s a last muffled “Yes, sir” before we can no longer hear his footsteps or words.