Chapter 11
SLOANE
My hands kept opening and closing at my sides, the aftershock rippling through me.
I’d almost been dragged into the mud by some worthless piece of shit.
I’d seen Kyle at the Ritual before and caught his name when a group of men were talking.
Even then I didn’t feel good about him, so I made sure someone else caught me before he ever could.
It wasn’t like Hal Whitney was safe, either. He was a thread in my case, one I should have cut the second he got too close. Instead, I couldn’t stop staring at him. The look in his eyes wasn’t panic. It was cold. Empty. Hal felt dark, like the monster you couldn’t outrun.
I hurried back to the main building where the front desk and showers were located, my boots tracking a trail of dirt and leaves behind me.
Once inside, my mind reeled as I stripped off my mud-caked clothes and shoved them into a garbage bag.
I could wash them twenty times and they still wouldn’t get clean, so there was no reason to keep them.
My bare feet slapped against the cold tile as I found an open stall and turned the water on.
The mirror caught me as I passed it, and I stopped, turned slowly, and barked out a laugh that sounded wrong.
I looked hideous. Sticks and leaves matted into my hair.
Mud streaked across my cheekbone like war paint.
A shiver coasted over my skin. I wanted to scrub off the fact that I had frozen for half a second when that bastard had grabbed me. I should have reacted faster. Instead of paying attention to my surroundings, my thoughts had still been with Hal.
My pulse skipped, hard, thinking about him again.
That look in his eyes … I’d seen it before.
Not often, and certainly not in good people.
It was calculating. Empty. Like whatever made him human had stepped aside and something else had taken the wheel.
Would he kill Kyle? Beat him until he ended up in the hospital?
That was exactly the energy he carried, quiet and absolute.
I stepped under the spray and watched the dirt stream down my body, pooling at my feet before it slithered into the drain.
Flashes of Hal on top of me came back in a rush. The heat, pressure, and control. My hand went to my throat as if I could steady the memory. I’d pissed him off when I turned the tables on him—hunted him instead. He needed to understand who he was dealing with.
I’d survived worse than a game in the woods. I’d lived a hell of a lot of life, and I was in my mid-thirties. A far cry from someone who didn’t know how the game was played. Yet, a part of me was disgusted with his behavior. He’d disciplined me like I was a child.
I huffed, grabbed the body wash Mitchell kept stocked as a courtesy, and lathered my skin until it squeaked under my palms. The mud came off, but Hal’s touch didn’t. I could hate him and still remember the exact pressure of his hand.
My thighs clenched even though I was still sore from the thorough, punishing sex he’d given me. I should have shut it down. What was worse? I wanted more.
If I wasn’t bullshitting myself, I liked it. Loved it. And when he took control, I wanted to submit. Funny, because I wasn’t normally that way. He was different. Dark and dangerous in a way I couldn’t walk away from.
“He’s probably hurting someone right now,” I muttered under the spray, “and you’re still thinking about how good he felt.”
That snapped me back. Even if getting close to Hal was useful for the case, I couldn’t risk my head. It had to happen another way than climbing into his darkness and pretending I could leave whenever I wanted.
Normally, I was fine with no strings. But even I knew if I kept going with Hal, it would end badly. Apparently, he didn’t flirt. He claimed.
I should fucking run or hide. The worst part? I would come back. Not only for him, but solving the case was the only thing giving me purpose, and nothing, and no one, was going to stop me.
I finished the shower, dressed in clean clothes, and dried my hair. I waved goodbye to Mitchell and headed out into the sharp evening air.
Locating my car, I reached into my front pocket, clicked the fob, and—
“You shouldn’t do that.”
A small yelp escaped me as I stumbled backward.
Hal seemed to appear out of thin air, his shirt soaked through with blood, knuckles red and angry. That was a lot of someone’s blood.
My stomach dipped.
“What? Unlock my car?” I asked once I found my voice, forcing it steady. I looked over him, trying to make the evidence fit a harmless explanation. A nosebleed. An accident.
“That far away, yeah.” His eyes narrowed. “By the time you got here, I could have climbed inside and held a gun on you.”
Shit. He was right. He’d taken up so much of my head space, I’d stopped thinking like me.
Get it together, Sloane.
He stepped closer, lifted a finger under my chin, and tipped my face up.
“Are you okay?”
I snorted. “From you or him?”
“Him.” His tone sharpened. “He had his hands on you after the game was over. It’s against the rules.”
I snorted again, because I refused to let him set the boundaries. “Mitchell said there aren’t any rules, but one.”
He moved closer, crowding my space like he preferred to be that close. “My rules are the only ones that count.” His finger stayed under my chin, a quiet insistence. “Again. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I appreciate the help, but I had it under control.” My attention dropped to the dark stains on his shirt. “You didn’t need to … bust his nose.”
He gave me a low chuckle without any trace of warmth. “Little fox.” He leaned in until his breath grazed my ear. “I did a lot more than that.”
My nerves lit up while my mind provided images of the possibilities.
“He won’t bother you again.” His words sounded like velvet over steel. His thumb—still dark with the other man’s blood—brushed across my cheek, slow and deliberate. “You have my word. He understands who you belong to.”
I shuddered, hated myself for it, and knocked his hand away. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
He smirked.
My nostrils flared. I shouldn’t like this. Not one bit.
And yet my body wanted to climb into the back seat and make a terrible decision on purpose.
Then my attention landed on the rabbit tattoo, and an invisible fist of betrayal punched me straight in the chest. If I wanted him, I was already compromised. He was still a thread in my case.
The reminder was all I needed to get my head straight.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea we meet at the games anymore.” I forced my voice to sound professional. “Clearly you have an issue with violence. It’s not my thing.”
A lie. And I had a feeling he knew it since his expression didn’t even flicker.
“What’s your name?” He stepped back and leaned against my driver’s side door, blocking me from getting in. He was testing how far he could push me.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, either.”
I swore silently. He’d clocked the lie before it formed, before I could hand him a decoy and walk away clean. Worse, he gave me nothing back. No twitch, no shift, no crack in his expression. Only that steady, unreadable stare that kept me guessing.
It was getting dark, the warmth bleeding out of the day. I rubbed my arms, pretending it was the cold that raised the hair on my skin. It wasn’t. It was him.
Then an idea sparked, and I swallowed the grin before it could show.
“Sloane.” I gave him my best there, happy now? look.
His brow rose slightly. “And?”
“Ramsey.”
“Sloane,” he repeated, like he was tasting it.
“You?” I asked. This was a two-way street no matter what he said.
His weight shifted, his gaze never leaving mine. “Ryker.”
My brows shot up. “Ryker?”
“That’s what I said.”
Huh. Why the name change?
“And?” I pressed.
“Whitney.”
“Well, Ryker Whitney.” I took a deep breath. “I guess … thank you for saving me from being raped by Kyle.”
He tipped his chin. “I had a little chat with Mitchell. Kyle isn’t allowed to return.”
Relief slipped in. He hadn’t killed him.
He pushed off my car and opened the door for me like a gentleman who hadn’t walked out of a bloodbath. “Be careful on your way home. You never know what’s lurking in the shadows.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” I slid into the driver’s seat and looked at him one last time before I closed the door.
I started the engine and pulled out, keeping my speed normal, my expression neutral. In the rearview mirror, he watched my car for a long beat before he walked to an Audi and opened the door. He grabbed a gym bag, then walked toward the building again. I assumed he was going to get cleaned up.
I signaled right and pulled onto the shoulder, killing my headlights. His Audi hadn’t left yet. I would have to be careful to make sure he wasn’t aware of me. More than ever, I needed to know who this man was, and how he was connected to my case.
A flicker of anxiety danced down my spine. Somewhere inside me, no matter how much I wanted to deny it, Ryker Whitney was on the wrong side of my investigation. And I had to keep my head out of my ass.
If I didn’t … I wasn’t only going to lose the case. I was going to lose myself.
Ryker didn’t realize it, but my hunt wasn’t over.