Chapter Eighteen
But you are also very, very wrong. There are things . . . people who are worth everything, including putting yourself in danger to make sure that they are taken care of.
Shit, fuck, fuck.
She was taking care of her father.
I’d royally fucked that up.
I had no idea how much a nursing home cost, but by the look of that place, it had to be pricey. Way more than she could afford on what she made working at the Plank. But she could with the extra two grand a week coming in from the Vault.
Fucking fuck.
“Chloe—”
She stepped back with her hand up, palm in my direction, warning me off.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“How am I looking at you, honey?”
“Like that,” she spat and waved her hand.
I abandoned that line of questioning and moved on.
“Why’s he in there?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, Ryan.”
It wasn’t what she said or even the tone in which it was delivered. It was that blanket of desperation that permeated the room. Despair and misery so thick I had no choice but to breathe it in, and when I did, it burned my lungs.
“Okay, Chloe.” I gave in for no other reason than to beat back the anguish that had infiltrated.
“I should get dressed. We need to go.”
We did. With the added stop at her place so she could change, we were pushing it. If there was traffic, we’d be late.
“We need to talk about work first.”
Her eyes flashed fire before they narrowed on me.
Never did I think I’d be not only happy but relieved to see any woman, but especially Chloe, shooting daggers at me.
But after yesterday—the dead expression, the dull eyes, the lack of fire—I was not only thrilled to have her back; I was fucking elated.
“Ryan—”
“Just listen for a second, then you can lay me out for intruding.” A muscle in her cheek jumped, and I liked that too.
Anything was better than Robot Chloe. “Yesterday, I was waiting on you to come into work so I could take you somewhere private to talk about you working at the Vault. I put you on manager’s payroll so you wouldn’t lose money while we had our talk. Obviously, it didn’t happen that way.”
“Obviously,” she muttered. “And how convenient for you.”
“Yeah, though it was only convenient because the only thing that was hurt was your car. But yeah, you getting into an accident meant I didn’t have to maneuver you out of the bar.”
More fire flashed when she asked, “How were you going to do that?”
It didn’t matter because in the end I didn’t have to do anything, but I still answered, “Lie. Say whatever I had to, to get you to come with me.”
“You were going to lie to get me to go with you?”
There was no small amount of outrage in her tone. So much so I’d venture to say it was more astonished hostility than run-of-the-mill anger.
“Yep.”
“You were going to lie to me?” she mostly repeated.
“I see you’re not getting this, Chloe, and I thought I’ve been pretty fucking clear. I will do anything, any-fucking-thing to untangle you from this situation. Including lying my ass off if it means keeping you safe.”
She had nothing to say to that, which was good because I wasn’t done.
“And it fucks me to say this. And when I say it fucks me, what I really mean is it feels like I’m plunging a knife into my gut and twisting that fucker, but you’re right.
There are things, people, who are worth putting your life in danger for.
That’s not the part that guts me. The part that twists that knife, baby, is knowing you know it.
Knowing you feel it. Knowing the reason.
But most of all, knowing you’re hurting because someone you love is hurting. ”
Chloe had nothing to say to that either, but the fire had extinguished, leaving behind nothing but soft.
As much as I wanted to take a moment and soak in the goodness, savor the way it made me feel after all this time of not having her, wanting to be right here with her on the receiving end of a soft, sweet look, there was more to say.
And what had to be said was the only path forward after I’d royally fucked up. Even though I hated what was coming. Loathed it. Despised it with every fiber that made me the man I was.
“I do not want you involved in this. With that being said, Catarina and Calista threw down on your behalf and reminded me it wasn’t my decision—it was yours.
They’re not wrong, but I don’t have to like it.
And just so you’re crystal clear on this, me understanding I can’t control what you do doesn’t mean I won’t try.
I get why you don’t want to give up that job.
I get why you need the money. But just to point out, at the end of this there will be no Vault to go back to.
We’ll dismantle the whole operation. So in reality, you’ve already lost that job. ”
“I thought you said you’d cuff me to your bed?” she asked, but there was no heat behind her question.
“I would, if I thought I could get away with it without you hating me when it was over.”
Chloe’s eyes widened for a moment before she recovered, but she continued to stare.
We needed to get up the mountain to Pete’s.
The sooner we could get this fucked-up shitshow on the road, the better.
Hopefully, Pete had heard back from Mercer about our membership requests and Shep was digging into Summit Jets’ flight logs.
If we could make a connection with Cynthia or one of the other missing women being on one of his jets, we’d be golden.
More hope was that Poppy had the night to think about things and she’d come through with more information.
Which meant I wanted to get to Pete’s, but I didn’t rush whatever Chloe was working out.
“My dad has Alzheimer’s,” she whispered. “That’s why he’s there.”
Christ.
As hideous as that was, I couldn’t deny how good it felt hearing her tell me.
I waited for her to give me more. When she didn’t, I watched her tag her skirt off the floor, rummage through the blankets until she found her bra and T-shirt.
Then I watched her walk into the bathroom.
I did this silently, not pushing for more, letting hope settle that maybe I could unfuck my monumental fuckup.
We were nearing the cutoff to Downrange when Chloe put her phone in her purse and asked, “Are you going to give me back my panties?”
“No.”
I heard her sigh, then shift in her seat, but even if I hadn’t had the audible clue she was staring at me, I would’ve felt it. And, again, I must have been insane and probably the only man alive who was happy to have his woman glaring at him.
Maybe one day, the memory of her lifeless eyes would fade. Maybe one day, the vision of her looking at me from across the lobby of the nursing home where her father lived, and the sheer panic and grief I felt coming from her, would lessen. However, today was not the day, and I welcomed her glare.
“You know that’s gross.”
“Trust me, baby, it’s not.”
I made the turn onto the dirt road and slowed my speed.
“I wore them.”
She sounded horrified. Which made me want to smile, so I did, knowing that would earn me another annoyed sigh.
She didn’t disappoint and added a disgruntled, “Totally gross.”
“I’m not going to sleep with them under my pillow—”
“Oh my God—”
“Or smell—”
“Stop talking,” she groaned.
I gave her that play but did so smiling.
We were nearing the Downrange Ranch sign when Chloe muttered, “You’re giving me whiplash.”
“Not sure you can get whiplash on a dirt road when I’m going less than fifteen miles an hour.”
“I’m not talking about your driving. I’m talking about your multiple personalities. Which I have to tell you I wasn’t aware you had. You hid them well.”
Instead of calling the kettle out, I asked, “How many personalities do you think I have?”
“Well, let’s see,” she started. “There’s the Ryan my boss, who’s calm, levelheaded, always in a good mood, and great with the staff.
” It was good to know she thought I was always in a good mood and great with the staff, but I had a feeling her descriptions were going to disintegrate and those traits would do me no favors.
“Then there’s the . . . um . . . charming, flirting, sexy Ryan.
” She said that like it was a mortal sin.
“Though I will note that charm was only used to coax barflies out the door, so I only had secondhand knowledge, but still it counts because I witnessed it firsthand.” Fuck.
“Then there’s the new ones I’ve met in the last forty-eight hours, which include Emperor Privacy Invader, King of Bossiness, the Big Kahuna of Nosyland, and my least favorite—His High-Hand Highness. ”
Only Chloe could make me want to laugh while she was insulting me.
“So six,” I noted.
“No, there’s more. Also the ones I like, but since I’m still pissed you changed my payroll status without speaking to me about it, planned on lying to me while scheming to get me to quit my job, and butted into my business in a way that’s so invasive I’m holding that grudge until the day I die, I don’t feel like sharing them.
Oh and threatening to cuff me to your bed if I didn’t bow at your command. ”
I ignored the holding on to her grudge until the day she died part, hoping I could talk her around to understanding why I did what I did.
And seriously, if her father being in a nursing home wasn’t in play, I might still be considering taking her to the cabin.
But I hadn’t lied; that option was now tabled, but like I’d told her, only because I knew she’d never forgive that.
And I had two goals: Get her through this situation safe and whole, and install her in my life and in my bed.
It would suck if I did the first and failed at the second.
But I’d take her hatred if she was alive to feel that emotion.
Which meant it was off the table for now, but very easily could be reinstated.
By my way of thinking, that wasn’t having multiple personalities. That was a man weighing his options and hedging his bets.
“Chloe?”
“Huh?”
“I did what I did because I want you safe.”
She had nothing to say to that because there was nothing to say. She knew I was right. Now I’d have to see just how long my stubborn girl could hold on to her grudge.