Chapter 23 #2
Van’s head falls to the side. “I’d be happy to run a few searches to see if I can locate where he might be staying, but to be clear, I’m not doing it for you.”
Tracker groans this time, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Look, Hope and I are taking off this weekend. It’d be nice if you two,” he wags his finger between them. “Sorted this hostile shit out.”
Van drops her crossed arms and gathers her stuff along with her coffee.
She eyes me, one side of her mouth tugging upward into a smirk that I ignore.
“I’ll see you at our scheduled debriefing.
” She turns to TJ. “Let’s go. I only have a bit of time, but I’ll afford you a minute to stop in the bathroom and pull your head out of your ass. ”
TJ follows her out of Track’s office. “You know if you. . . ”
We don’t hear the rest of his comeback as Tracker rests his arms on the desk.
“One of these days, I’m going to lock them in a closet. They can sit in there until they can learn to play nicely.”
I huff. “Make sure it’s in the middle of the woods where no one has to listen.”
He chuckles, but his eyes fall on me.
I scoot my butt back in the seat, straightening a little.
“How was it last night?” His tone is soft, and I know he saw the pictures.
“Which one of them blew up your phone?”
His mouth twitches. “Damn near threw the thing in the pool. Those girls speak nonsense. Y’all have your own language no man will ever understand.”
I smile. “At least they tried to include you.”
“Talking about you in a dress, dancing, hands, and giving The Assignment the talk. . . It’s payback, and I know it.”
I let my head rest against the chair. I stare at the ceiling. “Big bunch of drama queens.”
Silence falls between us only long enough for it to become uncomfortable.
“You did ok?”
It’s that soft tone again that makes me suck in my stomach, unable to look at him, so I keep my eyes locked on the ceiling. “Yeah. It was ok. Then I saw Nichols talking to Cole’s GM, and we left. Cole is. . .frustrated or something.”
“Disbelief or because you’re allowing him to be confused?”
Suddenly, it’s clear I’m about to get lectured, and I sit up a little more. “What exactly was I supposed to tell him?” I pause. “My job is to protect him. Giving him that kind of information wouldn’t do any good, and it’s completely unrelated.”
His eyes fall to the papers and pictures scattered around his desk. “That kid is surrounded by people who see nothing more than what he can do for them.”
He’s not wrong.
“My guess is he’s rarely respected enough to decide for himself what matters and doesn’t. People make assumptions, never even considering he should have a say.”
I pull my shoulders back, sitting forward.
“You save lives, Ryder. You have nothing to be ashamed of. No one can do what you do. You don’t have to hide it. It’s courageous.”
This man has taught me everything I know, but courage and shame live on opposing sides, and the latter never fights fair.
I frown. “I’m not hiding it from him. It doesn’t have anything to do with him or this case.”
His eyebrows lift. “True, but don’t you think he also deserves to know what kind of people might be lingering in his circles?”
I scoot to the edge of my seat, ready for this conversation to be over.
“You keep an eye on all this while I’m gone.” He waves his hand over the desk, changing the subject, likely sensing my impending rage. “If you find something or if something happens, I’d better be your first call. You understand?”
I stare at him, so incredibly tired as rage begins to awaken.
“Ryder, I mean it. No risky shit.”
“Got it.” It’s all I can say as I stand, turning for the door.
“I saw the pictures.” His gentle tone stops me. “You don’t have to be afraid of him knowing.”
I can’t look at him, my body temperature rising to a thousand degrees, stirring the coffee in my stomach.
“Telling him might be more for you than him.”
I leave without saying a word, stomping all the way to my car. I don’t know what Tracker is trying to do, but this. . .whatever it is, it’s seriously pissing me the hell off.
I climb into the SUV, not in the mood to deal with an hour of questions filled with the girls’ ridiculous drama.
I suck in a breath, holding it until it’s painful, and I’m forced to exhale. Although maybe they’re exactly what I need in order to remove the coil of fear tightening around me.
As I drive, Tracker’s words float through my mind.
You don’t need to be afraid of him knowing.
I want to laugh. Not needing to be afraid is one thing. Having to face what I’ll see in his eyes is entirely another.
After last night and whatever happened on that dance floor that I can’t seem to shake, I’m not sure I’m willing to gamble.
______
Through the coffee shop windows, I see my posse poised and ready at the front corner table. I tug the door open, and all three pairs of beautiful eyes snap to me, full of elated anticipation.
The lunch crowd hasn’t arrived, and the place is still quiet.
I drag my grumpy, disturbed ass to the hot seat and plop down. “Let’s make this quick. Spill your over-the-top reactions and ridiculous assumptions.”
Jos snickers while Jamie and Van contort their lips, trying to hide their grins. It’s as if this whole thing is the highlight of their entire year.
I glare at them.
“Oh, put that sour-grapes attitude back in your pocket,” Jos says, lifting her wide mug to her mouth, pretending she’s not thoroughly enjoying my torture. “The faster you get to talking, the sooner you can get back to The Assignment.” She croons the last part, and I seriously regret coming here.
“What do you want to know? You’ve scoured the internet, inspected each picture from every angle, and thoroughly dissected and discussed all details at length. What more can you possibly want to know?”
Van leans forward, resting her arms on the small table, and sets her muffin down. “First, let me just say you killed it in that dress.” She brushes her fingers off, preparing to dig in.
Fan-tastic.
I don’t need her astute observations anywhere near me right now.
“Ry, you looked amazing,” Jamie adds quietly, her eyes turning soft. “You can’t tell us Cole didn’t notice.”
“Oh, we saw the pictures. He definitely noticed.” Jos adds distinctly as if this is breaking news. “But,” she puts her finger in the air. “What I really want to know is, would he catch a grenade for you?” she sings loudly, and a couple in the other corner stares at us.
These girls laugh, their heads falling back, and dammit, a smile tugs at my lips despite every stubborn fiber within me. I love them as much as I despise them and their hopeful antics.
“Guys, this is a job.” I’m tired and worn and unable to handle any more confusion about all this. . .potentially fluffy emotional shit floating within me.
“Ry.” It’s Van’s direct tone this time. “You can either struggle with this all on your own, or you can let us in.”
I glare at her. She’s like Tracker, bossy as hell.
My entire body sags into the chair, giving up the fight. I don’t often surrender, but I have no idea what to make of what’s happening, and these chicks know it.
Damn them and their instincts.
If they only knew the riot taking place inside me. Cole’s confused, retreated demeanor that I want to completely decimate, versus giving him more of me than I already have—parts I don’t want anyone to see, and most recently, especially him.
I fiddle with the corner of a napkin on the table. “It wasn’t a big deal. He led me onto the dance floor, and we danced.”
I won’t be telling them that Bruno was playing, and Cole recognized it.
“What did it feel like?” Jamie’s pensive, light tone has my body unfolding a bit more.
I meet her hopeful gaze, remembering every detail I’ve tried to convince myself I should forget.
Nothing about Cole is alarming or threatening, and for some reason, that sets off a whole different kind of internal warning system. One that makes me want to run in the other direction, fearful he might see too much. Or…maybe, like Tracker said, it’d be ok if he did. But then what?
What if he saw it all? If he knew?
It’d change everything, most of all, the way he looks at me. It always does, and there’s no going back. I’m not sure I could stand what I might see.
Pity. Disgust. Horror. Or worse, complete disbelief. The inability to ever really conceive it or understand.
I release a long, slow breath. “It was. . .I don’t know. He’s so confident and careful.” I raise and lower one shoulder, really needing this to remain simple. Just a job. “It was. . .easy with him.”
Their faces brighten. I see it, but they’re diligent not to let it show too much.
Big, girly suckers.
“It was just a dance.”
Their heads fall to the side in pure annoyance.
I roll my eyes. “Fine. It was. . .nice. Ok? Does that make you all happy?”
They grin like they’ve struck gold. I won’t be telling these dreamers that I’d be willing to do it again.
For those few minutes, it was as if it were just Cole and me. I was still completely aware of everyone around us. The noise. The smell of alcohol, mixed with perfume and aftershave. But at the same time, everything was dulled. Turned down. Muted.
What I felt instead was Cole’s nearness—his self-assured hold on me. The strength of his body was like a shield, and none of it made me afraid.
In fact, it did the opposite, and that’s the part I’m struggling with. It’s generating a new sensation. A new kind of fear I’m completely unfamiliar with. Because for those few minutes, tucked inside Cole’s arms, all the pain and shame went just a little bit numb.
“You liked dancing with him,” Jos smirks while Jamie and Van hide their smug smiles behind their coffee and chocolate muffins.
“It wasn’t terrible.”
They all groan, and I bite my cheeks, unwilling to allow these chicks to make it more than what it will be. One dance.
“That was up until I saw the devil.” I move us along from fantasy land, and their smiles fade.