Chapter 2
Chapter two
Kelsie
I blew out a breath of impatience, willing Ryker to appear. My apartment wasn’t that big. What was taking him so long?
Ms. Jalinski stifled a yawn, blinking slowly with fatigue. Guilt tugged at me for waking her up so late at night. She didn’t need all this stress.
“You should go back to bed, Ms. Jalinski,” I said. “I’ll be okay now.”
She patted my arm and leaned close.
“Are you sure, sweetie? These boys look a bit rough around the edges.”
I glanced at the hulking presence of Vlad, one of Ryker’s biker friends. I’d seen him before a few times, usually from a distance. Never up close and personal like this. His stony expression gave nothing away, while he remained completely, utterly silent and unmoving.
The Blackjacks MC was a huge part of Ryker’s life. He didn’t talk about them much though. Hell, prying anything out of him was like pulling teeth—an excruciating lesson in frustration.
But I’d managed to glean information over the years, piecing things together.
These men didn’t meet up for a lazy Sunday afternoon ride in the countryside. They had criminal records, and they tangled with the police on more than one occasion. Last year, they had a full-blown shootout with another biker gang, wrecking the local auto shop.
I knew Ryker. It was nearly impossible to earn his trust. He would never leave me in the hands of someone who might endanger me, or cause me harm. If he thought I was safe with Vlad, then I believed him.
“Ryker is practically like a big brother to me.” I smiled reassuringly to put Ms. Jalinski at ease. “I’ll be fine, I promise.”
She pursed her lips as she considered.
“What about Noah? Are you sure you don’t want to call him?”
Definitely not, I thought.
“No, no,” I hurried to reply. “He’s…been working a lot of overtime lately. I don’t want to worry him with this.”
I felt nauseous lying to such a sweet little old lady, but she didn’t understand how suffocating my brother could be, even if he did have good intentions.
I loved Noah with all my heart. The problem was that he didn’t back off to let me breathe.
Growing up, when I attempted to exercise a little autonomy and independence, it would lead to a blow-up fight.
Something as simple as going to the movies with a group of friends resulted in a shouting match because we were both so hard-headed.
If there was even a marginal risk that someone broke into my apartment, Noah would never let me know peace again.
At last, Ryker finally appeared, striding toward us. His expression was a flat, unreadable mask—piercing blue eyes, his mouth set in the usual firm line. During the course of my entire life, I never saw Ryker smile. Not even in old pictures.
“Coast is clear,” he declared.
Bittersweet relief flooded through me. I felt bad that I’d caused a lot of trouble over nothing. On the other hand, my apartment was safe again, so that was good news.
“Glad to hear that’s all sorted out,” Ms. Jalinski replied. “Now, I’d better get back to my beauty sleep. Kelsie, dear, don’t hesitate to knock on my door again if there’s any more trouble.”
“Thank you, Ms. Jalinski. I appreciate it.”
After she shuffled back into the building, Ryker moved to Vlad’s side. They spoke in low tones for a minute or two. Then Vlad climbed onto his bike and took off.
“I’m spending the night." Ryker's tone indicated there would be no discussion, since the decision was already made. “Just as a precaution. Vlad will be on-call if we need him.”
Ryker came to stand next to me, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. But he didn’t touch me. Tilting my head back, I gazed up at him. Standing six-foot-two, he had a considerable height advantage over my five-foot-three frame.
“So, the coast isn’t actually clear,” I replied.
Ryker shrugged.
“It’s not looking great, no. But it’s not enough to get the cops involved. And you must have had a good reason to call me instead of your brother.”
A blush warmed my cheeks.
Ever since I was a teenager, I’d been plagued by a crush on him.
My brother’s best friend. Older than me by two decades.
There was something wild about him, feral and untamed, like a snarling stray dog left to fend for himself on the streets.
Underneath that hard shell he wore to protect himself against the world, I caught glimpses of a soft, kind heart, bruised, scarred from things he had to do to survive.
“Why did you call me, Kelsie?” Ryker asked in a low, quiet voice.
I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced down at my hands. To be honest, I felt safe with Ryker in a way that I couldn’t put into words, for myself or anyone else.
When I didn’t reply for several seconds, he shook his head.
“Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s go inside. You’ve been standing out here in the dark for too long already.”
As we made our way back to my apartment, Ryker shadowed me.
Despite his heavy biker boots, he didn’t make a sound when he moved through the corridors.
In comparison, my sneakers squeaked and scuffed on the linoleum.
I didn’t understand how he could move so quietly, like a ghost, silent as the grave.
“Has this happened before?” he asked.
“Not really.”
I stepped into my apartment, shutting the door behind us and kicking off my shoes. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, I felt shaky and jittery. A cup of tea would help to calm me down.
“What does that mean?” Ryker demanded, gruff with a hard edge to his tone.
I turned to look at him, standing there with a frown.
Black leather jacket, sharp blue eyes, the lean, angular lines of his body like a switchblade.
I should have been terrified, uneasy. With his checkered past—a skilled hunter, a deadly sniper during his military days, and now, a prominent member of a biker gang—this man had violence written all over him.
But Ryker wasn’t like that with me. He never even raised his voice in my presence.
“You said, not really,” he insisted. I could have sworn a hint of his Appalachian accent came through. That rarely happened—only when he was too irritated or stressed to keep it locked down. “That’s dodgin' my question. Has this happened before, Kelsie?”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Fuck,” Ryker muttered under his breath. “And you ain't—" He stopped, exhaling slowly before he tried again in a monotone voice that held no West Virginian twang this time. "You didn't tell anyone?"
I spread my hands, exasperated.
“What would I say? I have no proof, except those sunglasses. That’s the first time I’ve had anything tangible to go on. Everything else is just…”
I trailed off with a vague gesture. How could I raise the alarm on a feeling that I was being watched?
Ryker went silent. This wasn’t the end of the conversation, I knew that. He wouldn’t let it go that easily.
I busied myself making tea, relieved to focus on such a mundane task amid all this upheaval.
When I was finished, I handed one of the steaming mugs to Ryker, even though he wasn’t the type to sip a soothing cup of chamomile tea before bed.
He probably chugged half a bottle of whiskey to knock him out instead.
“I’m not being dumb,” I said softly.
“Never claimed you were.” The grit in Ryker’s voice was rough, tired.
“Noah would. In a heartbeat.”
Ryker accepted the tea, making sure his fingers didn’t brush against mine in the process. I hated that. The way he so carefully didn’t touch me. As if I was some leper and I would infect him if my skin came in contact with his.
“Then it’s a good thing he’s not here.”
For a brief moment, Ryker’s eyes flicked up and met mine. One look—barely more than two seconds—and my heart somersaulted against my ribs. I desperately tried to date other men, distracting myself from this stupid crush that had tortured me for years.
Those damn feelings were still there though.
I cleared my throat, studying the depths of my tea.
“So, should I talk to the police tomorrow?” I asked.
Ryker grunted and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“Wouldn’t do any good. They’re useless when it comes to shit like this. Especially since no one has outright threatened you. Are you going to tell Noah?”
I wrinkled my nose. I really didn’t want to. He would have me locked down tighter than Fort Knox.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Ryker continued. “If you’re not going to tell him, then you have to stay with someone for a few days. I don’t want you here. We still don’t know how this guy got into your apartment in the first place. There are spare rooms at the clubhouse you can use.”
I choked on a laugh.
“My brother would have a heart attack if he found out I was there. You know he hates your club.”
“No one would bother you though,” Ryker pointed out.
I tried to picture myself surrounded by the Blackjacks MC—tattoos and leather, sex and alcohol. God only knew what else they did in their spare time. As tempting as it was to consider being with Ryker more often, I wouldn’t fit in with his biker buddies.
“I’ll call a friend in the morning,” I replied.
That seemed to satisfy Ryker, for now anyway. Retreating to my bedroom, I couldn’t help noticing how the atmosphere in my apartment felt…different. Charged. Electric. Having Ryker in my private living space—just the two of us, alone—made me hyper aware of his presence.
In any other situation, this would have been a dream come true. Ryker Bridges was spending the night. How many times had I fantasized about something like this?
Except in my fantasies, he wasn’t sleeping on the damn couch.
With a sigh, I grabbed clean sheets and a spare pillow from my closet, returning to the living room.
“Sorry about ruining your plans for the night, by the way,” I said, placing the bedding on the couch next to Ryker.
He scoffed.
“I’m sure my non-existent social life will recover.”
“What about your club? You hang out with them, don’t you?”
Ryker made a non-committal noise.
“For business, sure. Nothing more than that. They could vote me out tomorrow and it wouldn’t mean a fucking thing to any of them.”
I frowned with concern. Ryker didn't seem to like getting close to people. I thought the Blackjacks MC would provide him with some companionship, some friends, but it seemed they were a means to an end.
He didn't have any family here in Brightwater, Montana. They were all back in his hometown, in West Virginia. As far as I knew, they never visited him. They probably didn’t even have a way to contact him at all.
On the outskirts of town, Ryker had built a cabin for himself. But he never mentioned a girlfriend, never mentioned any other friends aside from Noah. Did that mean he was alone, day after day, year after year?
“Don’t you get lonely, being by yourself all the time?” I asked.
Ryker shifted his gaze up to meet mine. A lifetime of silence passed between us.
“No,” he said in a flat voice. Cold. Unfeeling.
“Oh,” I whispered.
Ever since I could remember, I longed for a big family and a house brimming with love.
I wanted kids in every room, breathless with laughter, and a husband who kissed me good-night.
I wanted to make my brother an uncle, so he could enjoy being part of a family again, after losing our parents in that awful car crash.
Ryker clearly didn’t harbor the same hope for his future. He was content in his solitude.
Disappointment settled like a stone against my chest.
Silly, stupid girl, I thought.
Had I really believed that Ryker might want a family with me someday? I didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of catching his attention. I’m nothing more than his best friend’s little sister who makes a nuisance of herself.
When would I get it through my thick skull that he didn’t want me back?