Chapter 14 Ryder
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ryder
I roll into town just after sunrise. The mist still hangs in the air, heavy as a warning, but I’ve got no time for any of it. Not today. Today, I’ve got business to handle.
I pull up in front of the sheriff’s office, the truck idling softly in the quiet street, the engine rumbling, waiting for me to make a move.
I’m not here for pleasantries, not for coffee, not for small talk.
I’m here because trouble’s on the horizon, and I need to make sure Coyote Glen knows it before the shit hits the fan.
Deputy Kurt Morgan is standing by his patrol car, leaning against the hood, playing it cool.
I can tell by the way he’s got his uniform pulled just tight enough that he thinks he looks authoritative.
It’s a look that’s meant to say, I’ve got this.
Too bad the man doesn’t know the meaning of the word “control.”
He waves as I approach, but it’s forced, too eager. I don’t return the gesture. Don’t have the time or the patience.
“Ryder,” he says, trying to sound as if he knows exactly who I am and what I’m here for. “Good to see you again. I hear the place is really taking off.”
I don’t bother with the pleasantries.
“Cut the crap, Kurt,” I snap. “I didn’t come here to talk about the bar.”
He blinks. It’s a momentary flicker of confusion, and I know exactly what’s running through his head. Shit, this guy’s serious.
“I… uh, okay,” he stammers, trying to act a few steps ahead of me. He stands up a little straighter, but it’s all for show, all forced. He doesn’t know how to wear authority. “So, what’s going on? What brings you down here?”
I keep my eyes on him, scanning his movements, checking for weaknesses. If you can’t read a man’s tells, you can’t trust him. Kurt Morgan’s got a few.
“I’m here to give you a heads up,” I say, a threat wrapped in a warning. “There’s a storm brewing. A man named Cole Varga’s been asking around. He’s digging into my past, asking questions. And when he gets curious, bad things follow.”
Kurt’s eyes widen, but he quickly masks it, trying to regain the upper hand. He sucks in a breath, showing me he’s got this under control.
“I can handle this, Ryder. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ve got connections in town. We can handle whatever comes through here. Just give me all the details.”
I don’t hide the laugh that escapes me. It’s cold, the kind of laugh that cuts through the air.
“Really?” I ask, taking a step closer to him. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re barely holding things together with a smile and some poorly pressed pants.”
Kurt flinches, but I don’t let up. This guy needs to understand what he’s dealing with. He’s not dealing with just any old small-town trouble. He’s dealing with things that could turn this place upside down.
“I’m telling you this because I’m not interested in the town getting caught in the middle of something it can’t handle. If Varga’s sniffing around, it means he’s not far from making a move. I’m keeping my people in line, but I need you to do the same with the rest of the town.”
Kurt opens his mouth, then closes it, trying to find his footing
“Look, I’ve got the law on my side, okay? People around here trust me.” He’s still trying to sound confident, the man in charge, but I can see the cracks forming. “I’ll make sure nothing gets out of hand.”
I don’t need to say anything else. I just stare at him, letting the silence hang, heavy and uncomfortable.
Finally, Kurt lowers his gaze.
“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll keep an eye out. But you’ve gotta know that if things start getting ugly, it won’t just be me. The whole town's gonna be involved. They won’t just roll over.”
I almost laugh again, but I hold it back.
“Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it. For now, just… don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
Kurt nods. He’s not happy about it, but he’s not stupid enough to argue. He understands what I’m saying. It’s clear now, he’s out of his depth. But he’ll try to play it as if he’s not.
“Anything else?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Just keep your eyes open, Kurt. Don’t let anyone get too comfortable. And don’t pretend you’ve got this under control when you don’t.”
I turn on my heel and head back toward my truck, the sound of my boots loud against the quiet pavement. I don’t look back. Kurt’s not worth the effort. He’s a small-town deputy in way over his head, trying to put on a show. But he’s not the one I’m worried about.
I pull out of the sheriff’s office and drive through the winding streets of Coyote Glen, my mind still on the conversation with Kurt. He’s a lot of talk and not much action, but he’s all this town has.
And right now, that’s not reassuring.
I stop at the diner, the same place I always grab breakfast if I’m in the area.
The neon sign flickers against the gray morning, casting a pale light over the deserted lot.
I’ve been around long enough to know that when someone’s trying to stay low, they do it in plain sight, hiding in the open where no one expects it.
I pull the truck into a space and kill the engine. I don’t expect much, but what I see makes my blood run cold.
There he is. Cole Varga.
Standing on the sidewalk across the street, leaning against a post, waiting for something. His eyes are trained on The Hollow, that smirk of his playing at the edge of his lips. He’s not coming in. He’s watching, studying. Testing the waters. Trying to provoke.
I sit in the truck for a long beat, my hands gripping the steering wheel, knuckles white. I don’t move. I don’t let him see me.
He’s waiting. I know exactly what he’s doing.
Cole's game is pressure, fear, isolation, and then a strike when you’re weak enough to fall. He’s no fool. He doesn’t want to make a move yet. He’s trying to rattle me, to get under my skin, force me to show my cards.
That’s how he operates. He won’t act unless he’s sure he can win. And the more I show him I’m rattled, the better chance he’s got of making his next move.
But I can’t let him have that. Not this time.
Especially not now that he’s made me lose my appetite.
I start up the engine again and head home.
When I get inside The Hollow, I slam the door behind me, the sound cutting through the air, sharp and commanding.
Finn’s there at the bar, cleaning glasses because he’s got nothing else on his mind. Zane’s in the back, making sure everything’s in order. They both look up as I walk in, but Finn’s grin falters when he sees my expression.
“What’s up?” he asks, leaning back against the bar, eyes narrowing.
I don’t waste time with small talk. “Cole Varga’s outside. He’s watching us.”
Zane steps out from the back, his face immediately hardening at the mention of Varga’s name. “What’s he want?”
I shake my head, my eyes narrowing. “He’s testing us. Watching. Waiting for the right moment to strike.”
Finn doesn’t seem fazed. He’s got a confidence about him that’s almost infectious, but I don’t trust it when it comes to Cole Varga.
“I’ll be fine,” Finn says, trying to play it off. “What’s the worst he could do? I’ll talk to him.”
I cut him off with a sharp look. “No. You’re not going anywhere near him. Not until we know what he’s after.”
Zane steps up beside me, his eyes never leaving the door. “He’s dangerous, Ryder. You think he’ll back down if we wait him out?”
I consider it. The answer is simple. No.
“Cole doesn’t do backdowns,” I mutter. “He plays the long game. We double the security. Make sure no one gets close to The Hollow. We watch every car, every footstep. No one gets in unless they’ve got a reason.”
Zane nods without hesitation. He knows the drill. “I’ll take care of it.”
I turn to Finn, his expression still closed off, but his demeanor has shifted. The easy charm is gone, replaced with a guarded look in his eyes. “I want you on lookout,” I say to him. “Not a word to anyone about Cole. Keep it quiet for now.”
Finn doesn’t argue, but there’s a flicker in his gaze that tells me he’s not pleased. “Got it.” Zane heads out to check the perimeter, and Finn sets about doing what Finn does best: trying to mask the tension with humor.
“You sure you don’t want me to go chat with Varga? I can talk circles around that guy. Probably get him to buy me a drink and spill his guts.”
His usual smirk is on display, but it’s hard to miss the hardness in his eyes. The joke doesn’t land, and we all know it.
“Not a chance,” I reply. “Cole’s not here for a drink. He’s here for leverage.”
Finn’s grin fades a little, but he doesn’t push it. We all know what that means. Leverage, pressure, isolation. Those are his tactics, and I’ve seen them work before.
I don’t care what Varga thinks he’s going to do. I’ll make sure this ends on my terms.
For once, it’s not about making a move before the other guy does. It’s about making sure that when the time comes, Cole regrets ever thinking he could take this town from us.