Chapter Thirty-Two
Present - Ryder
I THOUGHT I’D be able to keep Evie separate from the bar, but I can’t hide anything from her. She sees right through me, always has. She opened her eyes this morning, and in the very next second she knew something was off. I don’t have the stomach to tell her the details of how I spent my night, and I know she couldn’t stomach to hear it. Evie’s been understanding, but this would be the bridge too far.
The person getting mutilated in the bar last night was the driver in the hit and run, a murderer himself and nowhere near innocent. But he had the right to a jury, a right to pay for what he did without being tortured and beaten to death. And now Tampa police are using all their manpower to find a man who is never going to be found. Alive, that is.
Her name was Maria, a single mother of two young children who now find themselves orphans, likely getting thrown into the foster care system like so many others. At the same time that the driver left The Swan, intoxicated and no doubt on something even stronger, a bus broke down, forcing the victim to walk home to her children. But she never made it.
Her death brought unwanted attention down on The Swan, the only part of the crime that didn’t go unpunished. It rips me apart knowing I was there the night she died, pushing buttons for blank faces I didn’t care to remember. One of them got high and then he killed her.
As I exit Evie’s office building, I jog over to the CVS across the street. Adrenaline courses through me as I find what I need, looking over my shoulder one too many times to seem natural. I pay and head out of the store, going around to the back of the building where I rip the prepaid phone out of its packaging and enter a number I had no idea I’d memorized until now. It must have buried itself within my subconscious, during the hours I spent staring at his business card, wondering why I’d picked it up that day.
It was for this.
This moment. Right here.
Everything that has happened over the past four years has led me here.
Does Stefan deserve to die? Yes. But first, the entire operation needs to be taken down.
Finally, there’s an answer at the other end. “Hello?”
“Meet me at the McDonald’s on East Canal Street. Mulberry.”
“Who is this?”
I pause. “You know who this is.”
Flipping the phone shut, I stuff it into my other pocket and head back across the street, where my motorcycle is parked. A dirty blonde head pokes up in one of the windows at the revving of my engine, bringing a hint of a smirk to my face.
Killing Stefan would have forced her to mourn a murderer. If the path I’m choosing now leads me to my death, at least she’ll mourn a man who died with honor, atoning for his sins.
The wind billowing through my t-shirt is a welcomed feeling, convincing me this is the right move. Before I know it, I’m leaning my bike on its kickstand and I’m walking inside.
Nostalgia hits me in the chest, the reason why I chose this McDonald’s, specifically. It was my contingency plan, should the weight of what I’m about to do become too heavy. The memory of afternoons watching Evie suck down too many fruit punches warms my heart, but it also reminds me of why I’m doing this. To stop the cycle…or as much of it as I can.
The place hasn’t changed in ten years, even though it’s past due for renovation. Ordering my meal, I take a seat at the same table Evie and I sat in when we were kids. It’s not long before a familiar face walks through the doors, slipping his lighter back in his pocket as if he’d been flipping it open and closed the entire way in.
I take in Agent Blackhall’s suit, perfectly tailored and even more efficiently pressed. I’d guess that it’s not standard FBI issue, but a deliberate decision on his part. He’s even taller and broader than I am, his hair not quite as black and slicked back. It suits him much more than the last outfit I’d seen him in. He places his order and takes a seat in the booth directly behind me, facing the opposite way.
“You wanted to meet?”
“Want is a pretty strong word.” I take a sip of my Coke. “I wanted to hear you out, learn what exactly you’d need from me.”
“You’d be what we call a CI, better known as the only reason any of us actually solve anything.” The booth creaks as Blackhall shifts his weight. “The truth is, law enforcement would be nothing without the rats. They’re the backs that we’re all built on.”
“You’re saying the justice system relies on criminals to succeed?”
“The proper term these days is confidential informant, but yeah, criminals like you.”
Well, there’s a truth that doesn’t taste good as it goes down. “What would you need from me?”
“It’s as simple as it sounds: information. You give me good intel and I act on it, while keeping your identity completely anonymous.”
“And what protection do I receive?”
“Almost none.”
I scoff, but Blackhall continues. “I won’t do anything that’d give you away, and as long as you don’t either, you’ll be fine.”
“What if you mess up?”
“I won’t, but I’d recommend having a plan to get the hell out of dodge, just in case.”
“Witness protection isn’t an option?”
Agent Lincoln Blackhall blows out a breath. “This isn’t the movies, kid. You’d have to be extremely important for that to be an option…and you’re not.”
“How do I become extremely important?”
“It’s all about how much you know, but right now, you’re not in deep enough for anyone else to give a shit.”
“Then why approach me at all?”
“Just because you’re not deep doesn’t mean you don’t know anything of worth. My partner Wolf and I have been following this ring for longer than you’ve been working at that bar, but we’ve been working blind. Our snitches have either ended up dead or the intel wasn’t good.”
“Well, isn’t that a winning recruitment pitch.”
“I’m not going to lie to you. These fuckers have gotten the slip on me more times than I’d like to admit. I don’t think my career—or my ego—can take another miss. That’s why I need someone far enough out that Stefan won’t look in their direction. Someone who is under the radar where all sides are concerned.”
And that’s where I come in.
“Where’s your partner now?”
“Not your concern.”
“Won’t I be working with them, too?”
“No. I’ll be your handler and only contact.”
“Fair enough.”
“You shouldn’t involve Miss Ashbluff in any of this. She should know as little as possible.” Blackhall sighs. “And if you had a brain, you’d walk away from her right now and give her the chance at a normal life.”
“I already tried that, asshole, but Evie isn’t one you can just…shake off.”
“And if they get to her?”
“I’ll die before letting that happen.”
“Okay, then. I’ll need information, something verifiable before we can make this official.”
“You came to me, but you’re making me prove myself?”
“Who’s to say you’re not using this to gain the loyalty and favor of Stefan?”
I shake my head, genuinely not believing the audacity of this fuck. “You hit me with some speech about how you know me better than I know myself, having seen the guilt in my eyes or whatever other fucking nonsense, but now you’re questioning my integrity?”
“I’ve seen people do much worse for less.” There’s a click of a lighter opening and closing. “Give me one good piece of intel and we can get out of the talking stage, make this cute little situationship we have the real deal.”
Fucking prick.
Scouring my mind, I search for something, but I’m not in the know about Stefan’s comings and goings. If Blackhall has been watching these guys for over four years, there’s probably not much he already doesn’t know, even if he can’t prove it.
“Close your eyes and think, Ryder. To them, you’re nothing but an inconsequential mouse. People don’t watch what they say around little ears.”
Doing what he says, I mentally sort through everything I’ve tried to block out over the years, trying to come up with anything of importance. The issue is, I’ve made it a point to ignore the faces that come and go, to drown out the world around me.
Was this risk for nothing, if I have no information to give?
“ Think, Ryder. What’s he said around you? On the phone? To his men? Maybe it meant nothing to you at the time, but maybe it’ll mean something to me.”
I shake my head, coming up blank. “He almost never takes phone calls around me, and when he does, they’re brief.”
“Have you been in his private office?”
Pause. “Yes.”
“Great. Were there papers on his desk?”
“No. He keeps everything in a safe along the back wall, but I don’t know what’s inside or the combination.”
“Does he have pictures on his desk? Or maybe on a shelf?”
“No…but…” Something pulls at the back of my mind, and I focus on it, pulling the memory forward. “There’s a drawing of a boat—or well, a yacht—that’s hanging on his wall. It wasn’t there when it was Victor’s office, so it must belong to him. It’s detailed, probably too detailed to be a generic picture.”
“You think it’s his personal vessel?”
Something else nudges me. “The boat, it’s got Clara in its name, and I’ve heard him mention it before. I always thought it was a woman.”
A flick of the lighter. “This could be something or prove to be nothing. I’ll let you know which it is.”
· · ·
Knocking on the door, I feel unusually awkward.
A moment later, it’s very slightly cracked open, and I’m met with a single hazel eye. “Are you sure about this?”
“It’s weirder if you don’t let me see your place.” Shrug. “I let you see mine.”
“Yeah, but the loft is just so you . There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”
“And this place is you . What’s wrong with that?”
“A lot.”
“You’re telling me that you live in a nice condo and you’re finding a way to be self-conscious about it?”
“Yes.”
Sigh. “Open the door, Evelyn, or I’m pushing through.”
“I’d like to see you tr–”
With one shove, I’m stepping through and she’s squawking as I take in the most beautiful apartment I’ve ever seen. Theo should honestly consider hiring a decorator if we’re comparing his place to hers. But I know this is all Evie.
We’re high enough up that with the white décor, I could be resting on top of a cloud as it floats through the sky. Everything is pristine, yet homey, pops of color sprinkled throughout. It doesn’t make you feel like you can’t touch anything, but welcome, existing just for you to sink into after a long day and leave your worries at the door.
Stepping farther inside, I take in the large windows that overlook the rest of the city. There’s a thick, white rug that I’d guess feels even softer than it looks next to a pastel pink couch. I don’t know how she made it fit in so perfectly…I mean, it’s a pink couch, but she did.
The kitchen is simple and elegant, somewhere you could see yourself actually cooking. Colorful appliances sit in their various spots, adding character and depth to the stunning white. A hallway branches off from the kitchen, likely leading to her room; artwork and paintings lining the walls.
Evie’s vanilla scent is present throughout, and I’ve never felt more at ease, surrounded by everything her . “It’s perfect.”
Glancing over, she’s splotchy as can be, but smiling. “You like it?”
“I love it, Eves.”
“It’s not too pretentious? Ostentatious? Obnoxious? Garish? Exhibitionistic? Disgustingly lavish? Giving peacock vibes?”
“It’s beautiful and modern yet…homey.”
“Okay, then.” Evie shrugs. “Guess I freaked out for absolutely no reason.”
“Total waste of your mental capacity.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know it was going to be fine?”
“Because I told you it would be?”
Evie waves me off, before playing with her fingers nervously. “You said you needed to talk to me? What is it?”
“Well–”
There’s a knock at the door and my words are swallowed up. Part of me is paralyzed by the fear that I’ve already been discovered, but a larger part convinces me that it’d be impossible. Evie could have ordered pizza for all I know—even though she hates tomato sauce—but maybe she ordered it for me. Maybe it’s Uber Eats. Then her brow wrinkles in the middle, meaning she also has no idea who’s on the other side of that door.
Shoving her behind me, I shield her body with mine and open the door, ready to fucking destroy anyone who thinks that they can fuck with– “Oh. Mr. and Mrs. Ashbluff.”
“Mom!? Dad!?” Evie shrieks from behind me before shoving me out of the way. “What are you doing here!?”
“We are here to apologize, Evelyn,” Ted states amicably, before looking over Evie’s shoulder to me. “Lucky for us you’re both here.”
Evie glances at me, wide eyed, and I nod. She opens the door wider, letting her parents in before we all sort of uncomfortably shuffle to the kitchen. Evie heads straight for the wine, pouring four healthy glasses, though I doubt any of us have eaten dinner, but nobody complains.
“You said you wanted to say sorry.” Evie crosses her arms in a standoff, and I feel sorry for them, being on the other end of that look. I’ve been there once or twice myself.
“We do. We are.” Kellin looks at me intently and then back to Evie. “I’m sorry for how we behaved at dinner. We are ashamed. You were right to leave because we really don’t deserve either of you, acting like that.”
And that’s all it takes. Circling the counter, Evie envelops them in a hug, and something in my chest fills up at the sight of it. Parents who love her enough to introspect and improve. A family. Ted looks at me over her shoulder and nods. I return it, happy for them to have resolved their issues.
A stomach growls and Evie giggles. “Whose stomach was that?”
Kellin looks away bashfully. “Mine. I’m absolutely starved.”
“Me too. Let’s order Chinese.” Evie picks up her phone and gathers all of our orders before submitting the priority order.
We spend the rest of the night with them, catching up and sharing stories. I laugh, deeply, when they tell me stories of the teenager, Evie, raging with hormones and convinced she was rebelling by staying up late and reading all night. I can’t help but smile when they describe how she’d slam the door and then pop her head out to apologize afterward, before closing it quietly behind her.
Evie begs for them to stop, but they never listen, Kellin pulling out photos of Evie with braces, getting her wisdom teeth out, dressed up for Halloween and looking absolutely miserable. Pictures after pictures of a life and a childhood. It’s everything I had ever wished for her.
Ted notices my gaze, eyes shining uncontrollably, and he smiles. As terrifying as this still feels, I find myself cherishing each moment as it happens rather than considering all the ways this life could be taken from me.
Too soon, her parents claim they’re too old to stay any later, and we see them out. Evie closes the door with a smile, and it settles something in me, until she hits me with the question I left unanswered. “What did you need to talk to me about?”
There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. “I met with Agent Blackhall today.”
Her eyes widen. “You did?”
“I’m going to be an informant, but you should know that it’s not like the movies. There’s no protection and doing this will put both of our lives in danger.”
“Will you be working to take down that horrible man?”
“Yes.”
“Then I don’t care how much danger we’re in, I’m with you all the way.” There’s nothing but strength gazing back at me. “Your soul is worth the risk.”
“I love you.” I grasp her cheek, before letting my lips fall over hers. As I pull her in for more, a phone chirps in my pocket. Not my usual alert, and I know instantly who it’s from.
Evie chews on her bottom lip as I pull out the burner phone.
Unknown: Turn on the news.
“Blackhall says to turn on the news.”
Evie runs to the couch, grabbing the remote and clicking on the TV, switching channels until we reach the 11pm broadcast where a news reporter is reporting live from the harbor.
“ We are reporting to you live from the Tampa Harbor, where the FBI has seized a private vessel they believe to be connected to organized crime. Several young women were found on board, held below decks against their will, and all previously reported as missing. A disturbing clip has been circulating TikTok showing signs of torture and mutilation, along with heavy amounts of fentanyl that was also discovered. The girls are now safe and will be reunited with their families. The vessel is registered to a shell company that has known involvement with drugs and human trafficking. The FBI’s investigation continues… ”
Evie covers her mouth with one hand, taking mine in the other. “Was your information what saved them?”
I nod, still incapable of words. I’d instantly recognized the vessel in the background of the broadcast as the yacht that was hung above Stefan’s desk, despite the blurred-out name.
“Ryder, you saved those girls.”
Something in my chest squeezes knowing that those girls will get to see their families again. It’ll be a long and hard road to overcome what they went through, but they’ll be given the chance because of the information I fed to Agent Blackhall.
Their newfound freedom cements my cooperation. Going forward, I’ll be switched on, eyes and ears searching for something to share—something that could save a life. It’s a liberating feeling knowing that the numbness and shame will no longer cloud my perception.
My soul should have never been for sale.
I’m taking back my future and I will atone for my sins.