Chapter Thirty-Nine - Ryder
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ryder
Please be a figment of my imagination. Please don’t be real.
Because the alternative means accepting that Rachel is restrained in the back of the truck bed that I’m being dragged toward.
A man I vaguely recognize holds my upper arm, shoving me forward until I stumble into the truck. I’m barely able to catch myself with my hands bound in front of me, and I mostly end up collapsing over the hitch, fighting my blurry mess of a mind for clarity.
“Fight me, and I’ll kill her,” he says, flicking his head in Rachel’s direction.
I want to curse him to hell and back, but it’s all I can do to locate my arms and legs as I’m maneuvered into the small space that is the truck bed.
He slams the door closed, and the only light we’re left with comes from each of the top corners, where the cover has a few small tears. It’s not enough to signal for help, but it is enough to illuminate Rachel’s bleeding face.
“Ryder,” she says in a broken whisper. “What did they do to you?”
I have no idea when the last time I said a single word was, so it takes a while to connect my brain and mouth. When I try, I end up in a coughing fit.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” she murmurs.
When I can finally speak, the words burn and come out in a low rasp. “Tell me this isn’t real. Please, don’t be real.”
Her eyes crease with sadness. “I’m so sorry.”
“How did you get here? What—what is going on?” I ask, slowly processing that Rachel probably knows a lot more about what’s happening than I do.
I don’t know if it’s my question or the answer to it that opens the floodgates, but Rachel’s eyes shut as tears stream down her cheeks.
The sight hurts worse than being crammed back here.
I spend more energy than I have to raise my bound hands and gently brush her tears away. “Don’t cry, Rebel. I hate it when you cry.”
But my words only make the tears come harder.
“This is all my fault,” she gasps. “I never should’ve let you leave. When you were gone, I thought you were too mad about our fight to call, but I should’ve known something was wrong. You’ve never gone that long without talking to Lyla before.”
My mind whirls, struggling to remember the fight she’s talking about. Flashes of a heated conversation come back to me, and though I can’t recall the exact words said by either of us, my subconscious accompanies the memory with a weighty regret.
It must have been bad.
“How long?”
“Ryder, you’ve been missing for eight days.”
Eight days.
I knew it had been a while, but I thought a few days at most.
Eight days?
“I am so sorry,” she heaves. “This never would’ve happened if—”
“Shh.” I brush the tears away again, glad to see them slowing. “Does anyone know we’re missing?”
She nods, looking marginally hopeful for the first time. “Moreno was just a few minutes from the parking garage when we left. I gave him this truck’s license plate.”
We were at a parking garage?
“Moreno is here?”
“He and all the LA capos came into town yesterday.”
Somewhere beneath the haze, I’m pissed about that.
“He involved you in all of this?”
“Actually, he threatened me several times, but once I figured out where you were, I couldn’t just stay home. Everyone else was traveling to nearby bases, so I was the closest one.”
“And how exactly did you know where I was?”
“Kade figured out that no one was hacking into our IP address. The embezzling really was coming from our house. There was only one other person who’s had access to our house all this time.”
“Meredith.” I spit her name.
“That’s the best part,” she says with a pained laugh. “Her name isn’t Meredith. It’s Mary Anderson.”
Recognition flashes in my head at the information, seeming to know the significance before I can form the actual thought to connect the dots.
When I do, I can barely believe it.
“Mary Anderson, as in—”
“The mother of Mason Consoli’s child.”
“But that would mean Dominic—”
“Is a Consoli,” she finishes for me.
Dominic Consoli…
I shake my head, trying to clear it of the lingering muddiness. “You shouldn’t have come here, Rachel.”
“You would’ve done the same.”
“That’s different.”
“No,” she whispers. “It isn’t. Besides, I’m the reason you’re in this position in the first place.”
“Stop saying that. This isn’t your fault.”
“I should’ve known something was wrong when you weren’t reaching out to talk to Lyla.”
More and more flashes from that night come back to me.
“You had every right to be angry after how I left things.”
“You remember?”
“I remember enough,” I tell her. “I remember leaving you when I shouldn’t have. Again.”
“Again?”
“I kept replaying the day Lyla was born. Back then, it felt like the only way to protect you was to go stop Mason. But now…” I shake my head. “I never should’ve left your side. I’m so sorry, Rebel.”
And there goes another tear.
“I never told you just how hard I’d fallen in love with you,” she whispers, voice breaking on the last word. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I have ever done.”
“And it won’t ever happen again. We’re done leaving each other.
” I stare into her beautiful eyes, willing her to feel the honesty in my words.
“You’re too important to walk away from.
To hell with my job and everything else.
You are the only reason my life has an ounce of meaning, and I refuse to live without you for another second. ”
I don’t have a warning before her lips take mine in the most heartbreaking, desperate kiss we’ve shared. My mind is still clearing, but I don’t push through the fog in this moment. I let this kiss consume all working brain cells and lose myself in the only woman I’ve ever wanted.
What was I thinking all those years ago? How did I let her walk away? Forcing her hand had seemed like the only way to keep her, but I should’ve begged on my knees and groveled until she gave me another chance. I should’ve done whatever it took to keep her.
It’s a mistake I won’t make twice.
The truck hits a pothole, and our lips are wrenched apart as our heads slam against the sides of the truck. Both of us hiss and I feel a pull toward unconsciousness but fight with all my might against it. I can’t leave Rachel to fend for herself.
“Do you know where they’re taking us?”
She’s cringing, whether from my question or the pain, I’m not sure.
“They said something about a trade-off. Moreno thinks they’re selling you to another family.
When Vance caught me letting the air out of Meredith’s—Mary’s—tire, he almost killed me.
Mary proposed the idea of selling me to them, too, as a way to control you. ”
The answer is so much to process that it takes me a moment to speak again, and even then, all I can come up with is, “Who the hell is Vance?”
“Mary called the man Vance. I’d never seen him before, but I’m almost positive he was the one who was stalking me. Do you know who he is?”
I picture his face. Something about it stirs a level of recognition, but not enough for my foggy brain to locate right now.
“I’m not sure,” I tell her. “Look, Rachel, if all of that is true, we are in a very bad situation.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“I think that if another family gets their hands on you, you will be assaulted, murdered, or both.”
I hate the look of sheer terror staring back at me, but she needs to know what we’re up against.
“If you have a chance to run, I need you to swear to me you’ll take it.”
“I’m not leaving you,” she says without hesitation.
I lift my hand to gently brush the blood and tears off her cheek. “I know you don’t want to, but we have to think of Lyla. We can’t leave her alone.”
“B-but I can’t just—”
“You need to. She’ll need someone to protect her.”
Tears again. What wouldn’t I do to make sure she never cries again? Those beautiful eyes weren’t made for tears.
“Please,” I whisper when she still doesn’t answer. “Promise me.”
With a soft shudder, she gives me a jerky nod.
“Words, Rebel.”
“I-I promise,” she manages between hiccups.
I kiss her forehead, leaving my lips there as I savor the feeling of having her close. “Thank you.”
We lay like that for a while, and I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am: that we wasted so much time. It shouldn’t have taken being abducted for us to realize that we can’t be apart.
“I love you,” she says, and those simple words fill me with the most inexplicable satisfaction.
“I wish those words could properly express the level of my affection for you, but they can’t.
So, just know that every time I tell you that I love you—and Rebel, I love you with everything that I am—I mean it more than you will ever know, and I plan to show you that every day for the rest of our lives. ”
It’s then that the car pulls to a stop.
Her wide eyes land on mine, and in that moment, we both accept that we will do whatever it takes to get out of this alive.
For our daughter.
For each other.
For all the time we have to make up for.
I take her lips again, swearing to myself that this is not our last kiss but only one of the first compared to what’s ahead of us.