Ryker

Chapter Twenty-Six

Everyone has been gone for a few hours. Vivian decided to leave right after everyone else, which is understandable. The last time we talked, I called her, more or less, a snobby princess.

I’ve spent the past few hours walking through the house. I haven’t been in a house in a long time, but for someone who has as much money as Ryker, I’m surprised his house isn’t bigger.

Most of his property is land. Ryker has a pool and a beautiful garden that I have yet to explore. I did, however, find the home gym. In total, this house has four bedrooms. The master bedroom is Ryker’s, of course; it’s as bleak as the rest of the house. Vivian’s, which you can tell, was designed for a teenage girl. Lincoln’s, nearly identical to Ryker’s, only he has a few paintings on the wall, and finally mine. Each bedroom has an adjoining bathroom.

Downstairs, there is the open living room that leads out to a shaded patio when the doors are open, a beautiful modern kitchen that would be any chef's dream, Ryker's office, and the door to the basement. There is another door that I haven’t explored yet because Ryker keeps it locked.

Since Nolan has been following me around all day, I haven’t had a chance to unlock it. What could be so important to keep it locked away from the rest of the house? If Ryker wants to know all of my deepest, darkest secrets, then I will uncover his too.

I decide to settle on the couch while I wait for everyone else to get home and go to bed. It’s only noon, so I have some time to kill. It will be easier for me to sneak around when I don’t have to worry about being caught.

Nolan settles on the couch next to me, propping his ankle on his knee. “We’ll get her.”

I turn my head to look at him—the feeling of needing to cry almost becomes overwhelming. I take in a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling and blink away the tears. “You, Jeremy, and Maggie are the only three people in my life I care about. I would take a bullet… or torture… for all three of you.”

I rest my head on his shoulder, and he kisses the top of my head. “I just wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

I shrug, “I’ve been through so much worse.”

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me closer to him. “You know Jeremy and I both love you, right?”

“I know. I love you too.” I say, yawning as my eyes slowly drift shut.

◆◆◆

I wake up to someone putting a blanket on me and I startle awake.

I grab their wrist and twist it as hard as I can.

“Jesus fuck Bianca!” Jeremy cries out in pain, and I quickly let go.

“I-I’m sorry. It was instinct. ”

He rubs his wrist as I slowly sit up. “What happened?” I ask as I slowly take him in. He has blood splatter all over him. I grip his hand and turn it palm up. When I look from the blood to his eyes, I see nothing but anger. “What. Happened?” I repeat, this time more sternly.

He rips his hand from me and shoves it into his pocket. “Nothing.” “What did he make you do?” I scramble to get the blanket off of

me when a deep voice makes me pause.

“Nothing the rest of my men wouldn’t do.”

I whirl around, finding Ryker leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed. “He’s not one of your men,” I argue, finally standing.

“The moment I saved his life, I owned him.”

“What is up with men thinking they can just own people? Nolan, Jeremy, and I aren’t yours. ”

Ryker raises an eyebrow and gestures to the room around me. “All three of you are in my house.”

“So?”

“So, I own you. All of you. And soon, I will own Maggie, too.” He takes a step into me, forcing me to take a step back. I refuse to let myself take another, so I plant my feet and square my shoulders.

“Wow,” I drawl, “What a big, strong man you are,” I say in a mocking tone. "If Maggie is still alive, when the fuck are you going to rescue her? She needs to be your top priority. Especially before this war gets any worse. Put your vendetta aside and go get her!"

“Angel,” he warns .

“Sir,” Nolan interrupts, grabbing our attention. “Lincoln has news about the restaurant opening.”

Not looking away from me, he answers, “What about it?” “There will be a soft opening tomorrow.”

Ryker lifts my chin with his thumb and moves my face from side to side, looking at the bruises that have almost completely healed. The ones on my body are another story.

“I have business to attend to. Don’t think this conversation is over, Angel.”

“Don’t call me that,” I say through gritted teeth.

With a smirk, Ryker takes a step back and gives Nolan a nod, telling him to follow him to his office.

“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, concern written all over his features.

“I’m okay. I promise.” I take a deep breath, “Jeremy, I need you to promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“I need you to stay away from Manzo.” “What? Absolutely not.”

“If you are going to be in this life, you will be in more danger than I’d ever imagined for you. Becoming a target of Manzo’s is something I wouldn’t wish upon my worst enemy. Please, for your safety, promise me when it comes time you won’t put yourself in danger for me.”

“I started this job, hating it because the future I wanted could never happen. Then I realized, the only thing I ever wanted to do was make the coward who hurt you pay. I could never do that as a cop, but as one of Ryker's men, we could kill him. Don’t ask me to sacrifice that. ”

I shake my head. “I already thought I lost you once to that monster. I can’t go through it again. Seeing you lying in a pool of your own blood nearly broke me.” I grab his hand, “Please, Jeremy. Don’t get yourself killed.”

After a long pause, Jeremy nods once before the buzzing in his pocket pulls his attention away. “Sorry, I have a few things to take care of. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

“I can handle them.” I chuckle.

Jeremy hesitates for a moment more before he answers the phone and leaves the room.

I don’t get more than five minutes alone before Hawkins appears dripping with sweat. “We need to talk.”

“I already told you everything.”

“No, you didn’t. I need more. I need to understand.”

“What is there to understand? Your father was a demon, and I sent him back to Hell where he belongs.”

Hawkins shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “Please, Bianca.”

I assess him for a moment, taking everything in. His heavy breathing, clenched fists, and flexed jaw tell me to be weary, but his eyes are telling a different story. He’s hurting.

I sigh, “Let’s go take a walk.”

We open the patio doors and head towards the garden, walking along the paths lined with tulips. I pause momentarily, tilting my head and letting the sun caress my skin. Other than when Ryker transported me here, I haven’t been outside in over two weeks .

Once the sun's warmth disappears behind a cloud and the fall breeze begins to pick up, we continue our walk in silence. I let Hawkins collect himself. We pass two guards as we wander, none acknowledging our presence.

We sit on the bench in front of the large fountain in the center of a large clearing. Four large concrete planters with a purple and pink bouquet in each sit on the fountain's ledge. Along the perimeter, the same tall flowers give the area the color it needs.

Hawkins takes in a deep breath, looking out towards the fountain. “I went to Italy to get away from my life here. My father wanted to be in charge until he died, and I had no problem with that. I loved my life. I got to party, fuck whoever I wanted, and spend my days with no care in the world. But one day, I was visiting my grandmother when her guard asked me a question that I couldn’t get out of my head.”

“Which was?”

“He wanted to know if I could help him get in touch with father. He wanted to try an American girl. At first, I was confused; how could my father help him with that? I let it go for a few weeks, and then I was approached by someone else who said their girl wasn’t working for him anymore and wanted to know if I was soon planning on bringing anything back with me.”

I nod slowly, trying to take in the information. “So, you thought they wanted tourists?”

“Yeah. He told me his type and told me to talk to my father. I came back to the States a few days early because I needed to talk to him.”

“You were having suspicions he might…”

“Be selling women. If he’s breaking them and raping them… does that mean I was right? He’s selling them? ”

I nod, and Hawkins curses. “Are you sure my father was selling them, or is it just Manzo? Was my father just raping them? Not that rape is okay but…”

“I get it, I do.” This time, it’s my turn to take a deep breath. “Your father liked his women a certain way. They weren’t really women.”

“What do you mean?”

“He was more into teenagers. The younger, the better. When I found him, I posed as a freshly graduated high schooler, exploring the adult world before I went into college.”

“Surely he would have recognized you if he were working with Manzo?”

“He would have if I hadn’t disguised myself, but you know that.”

He laughs, “Yeah, I still can’t believe you were Sophie. You’re good.”

I chuckle back, “I try my best.” Letting out a sigh, I finally look at him. “I thought you were in on it. At least, I had my suspicions. I knew your father was transporting girls to Italy to be sold all throughout Europe. I thought you were transporting them; that's why I didn’t want to tell you why I killed him. When you and Ryker caught up to me, I was looking into both of you.”

“That's why you were at the warehouse?”

I nod, “When I saw Jessica hanging there, I thought…”

“You have no reason to believe me, but we don’t sell women. We do a lot of things. We are murderers, drug dealers, smugglers for goods, but we don’t rape, sell and kill women.”

“Unless they wrong you.” I correct .

“Unless they wrong us.” He parrots. “But even then, we don’t rape them. Hell, I’ve killed men who were Leads because they abused their women. It happens a lot in this life. It’s one of the reasons why we hate Chicago so much.”

“They rape their women?” “Those are the rumors.” “And you believe them?”

“Until I find proof otherwise.”

Nodding, I stand. “Do you have any more questions?” “For now, I think I got everything I needed… Thank you.” With a soft smile, we both head inside.

About an hour later, I’m standing in front of Ryker’s closed office door, wringing my hands together. I pinch the skin on my hand to get up the nerve to knock. I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s a simple request, but the idea of him saying no triples the sadness that has been building since I woke up.

Shaking my arms out, I take a deep breath and knock. There is a moment of silence before I hear the rustling of papers and the closing of a drawer.

“Come in.” I open the door and walk in, taking in Ryker sitting behind his desk. A few buttons on his button-up are undone, and the cuffs of his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He has his professional scowl in place, and I leisurely take a seat in the leather chair across from him. “What do you need? I’m busy.”

I debate on tucking my tail and running the other way. He might not scare me in the ways he thinks, but in this moment, he has the opportunity to crush me like he’s been wanting to since he met me, and I’m handing it over to him on a silver platter. I swallow and take another deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart .

“Today…” I pause, furrow my brows, and clear my throat as I shift. He raises an eyebrow and narrows his eyes.

I know he can read me well, so the fact I’m uncomfortable probably shows my hand. “Today, I was hoping you would let me go visit my mother’s grave.” I spit out.

I hate having to ask for permission. It makes me feel like a child again, and that feeling is something I always avoid.

He leans his elbows on his desk and smirks. “So, you finally need something from me?” I ball my hands into fists but stay silent. “What would I get in return?”

“What do you want?” I say, trying to refrain from growling.

His smirk widens. “I want a lot of things, Angel.” I glare at him harder while his smugness intensifies. “But I guess I’ll settle for you begging on your knees.”

At this point, I’m grinding my teeth so hard that my temple is starting to throb. “What,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Beg. For. It.”

I stand, staring down my nose at him. He turns his chair so he faces me as I round the desk. My steps are slow and measured. I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to my mother the night she died. Every step causes physical pain in my chest, knowing what I’m about to do will stop any hope of me getting that chance.

As I stand before him, I swallow before falling to my knees. I peer up at him through my lashes, and his smirk falls. I scoot a few inches closer and place my hand on his knee. His eyes dart to where my hand rests, and I slowly stand, coming nose to nose with him as I run my hand up his thigh to where his cock is beginning to harden .

I run my palm down its length, and to my dismay, I can feel the pool beginning to form in my panties. No matter how much I try to forget what he felt like inside of me, that thought seems to be permanently etched in my brain.

“I don’t beg. For anything. Ever .” I hiss the last word as my grip tightens around his cock. To my surprise, the only reaction I get from him is a deep inhale. His cock has hardened even further, and I swallow hard. I try to keep my voice stern, but it wavers anyway. “Don’t ever ask that of me again or the next time this comes off.”

I tighten my grip even more, and he lets out a groan that doesn’t help the pantie situation. I start to pull my hand away, but he grabs my wrist and holds it in place. I hold his gaze, and his smug look has evaporated completely, and in its place is an intoxicating hunger. His jaw is tight, and he breaks eye contact when looking at my hand. I follow his gaze, and he presses my palm harder into his bulge.

“You think you can act like a brat without repercussions?” he growls, and my eyes narrow.

“Last I checked,” I whisper, “You aren’t the boss of me. If you are going to act like a dick, I should get to play with yours.” The words tumble out of me before I really think them through.

I meant to say hurt. You know, cut it off, throw it in a blender, turn it into a milkshake, then force him to drink it. But, of course, it didn’t come out that way.

In one swift movement, he releases my wrist and pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. A shallow gasp leaves me, but I make no move to fight him.

“If you want to play.” He growls and rocks his hips under me, making his bulge hit my clit. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop me from moaning. “Then, let’s play. ”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

He smirks and rocks into me again. This time, I have to physically restrain myself from following his movements. I close my eyes and try to steady my breathing. One of his hands lifts from my waist and runs a finger along my collarbone with a tender touch. My heart starts pounding against my ribcage. He pushes the hair over my shoulder.

He leans down and kisses my neck. I tilt my head, giving him better access as I take a deep breath. I roll my head back, and he follows the movement by moving along my throat.

The hand still gripped at my hip tightens as his other traces a line up my spine, and he gets a tight grip on the base of my scalp, forcing my head back up to face him. We hold each other’s glare.

As much as I’d love to say that anger is all I feel, I can’t. For whatever reason, this idiotic, egomaniac, psychopath is making me want him. Need him. Maybe that’s his end goal. Get me addicted to his cock, so I do whatever he wants. And it’s working.

He crushes my mouth in a frantic kiss, stifling my gasp. His grip, holding my hair, tightens as I open my mouth, allowing him in. I begin to rock my hips, and his hand, still gripping my hip, helps guide my movements. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer as the pace picks up. His mouth moves from my mouth back down to my neck.

I let out a moan as his hands release me and unhook my bra. He does it so swiftly I don’t notice until I feel it loosen around my ribs. I lift my arms, and he lifts my shirt off, then slides the bra straps down my arms. My hands fly to the buttons on his shirt, but once I start fumbling with one halfway down. I rip at it, making a button fly across the room.

I run my hand down his chest, following the flow of tattoos. I run my hands back up to wrap around his neck as his grip returns to my hips. I rotate my hips in a circle and let out a moan before continuing to rock back and forth. I run my hands through his hair as his mouth finds one of my nipples. I lean back as far as I can, still keeping the fast tempo he’s set.

Every time I rock forward, the tip of his cock hits my clit. I tighten my legs, squeezing his hips as I get closer to the orgasm I’ve been searching for. Since the night he broke into my hotel room, I have been fantasizing about having him inside me again.

I let out a moan, and a growl ripples through him and somehow me. He pulls me so I’m flush with him again. My breasts pressed against his bare skin. Without a second thought, he kisses me again, and a whimper falls from the back of my throat. We search each other’s mouths like the other has the solution to a problem we didn’t know we had. Fighting to be the one who finds it first.

His hand moves and begins to knead my inner thigh. My breathing picks up even more as all my senses dull.

“Oh god,” I moan softly, breaking the kiss and pressing my forehead to his. I bite my lower lip and furrow my brows.

“Come, Angel.” His husky, strained voice sends me over the edge.

“OH GOD!” I scream, tilting my head back and digging my nails into his shoulders.

He helps me ride down the high, and everything comes back into focus.

First, I hear our heavy breathing, then I blink away the spots that formed in my vision, and finally, the wetness between my legs begins to stick between my thigh and my jeans.

I focus on Ryker; his nostrils flare with every exhale, and his breathing remains wild. I swallow hard and start to get off his lap with shaky legs. I stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do. The crazed look in his eyes gives me pause. He looks as if he’s about to spring up out of his chair, pin me down and fuck me senseless.

My body is saying do it, while my brain knows that even grinding against him like horny teenagers was too far. I told myself that after the night he broke into my hotel room, I would never touch him again. My hatred for him should have been enough to keep me away. He kidnapped and tortured me. He had me strung up for days, and yet I still want him to fuck any ounce of remaining sanity I have left out of my body.

After a few seconds, I grab my shirt off the ground and slip it on before starting for the door. I hear his chair scoot back, but he doesn’t stop me as I reach the door frame. I pause, debating if I should look back. But if I do, I know the sight of him shirtless, sitting behind his desk, with that look on his face would make me crumble.

Once I shut the office door, I practically run to my room. When I finally make it into the bathroom, I strip and hop into the shower, making sure to turn it as cold as I can. I try to scrub him off my body and out of my mind, but his woodsy and fresh rain scent lingers on my skin. I slump against the wall as my mind runs rampant.