Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3)(30)

With his attention taken between the phone and the road—and his right arm and side exposed—I can’t resist gazing back over his body. He’s shirtless, with only a pistol and holster snaked around his shoulder and torso.

He notices. I can tell because he leans back a little and flexes, taut.

I roll my eyes as my tongue slides to the inside of my cheek.

Gorgeous, cocky, tough, strong—yeah, he’s the real deal and the entire package.

A second later, he chucks the burner phone out the window.

“Who’s Briggs?”

“My partner. He runs mission control from the inside,” Ryder explains. “Superb hacker too.”

“I have an uncle in Shrevesport,” I inform him. Maybe it could help.

“You won’t have time to see him. The feds will put you on immediate lockdown.”

I quip, “From one prison to another.”

“That’s what the protection program is all about,” he says in a confusing, almost sour tone.

I decide to change the subject. “What is the river on your arm? The one through the gods?”

He doesn’t look away from the road. “Styx. The Greeks believed when you died, to pass through to the otherworld, you had to cross the River Styx.”

“Why do you have a tattoo of it?”

“Because we all have to cross it someday,” he says matter-of-factly. “Metaphorically anyway,” he adds.

I think about that. “Are you afraid to die?”

“No.”

“Are the gods like a talisman?” I try.

“Something like that.” The way the muscles of his arm tense and his hand grips the steering wheel harder makes me think I shouldn’t pursue this line of questioning.

“You don’t think the witness protection program is a good thing?”

“Doesn’t matter what I think.”

“Why don’t you like witness protection?” It does matter to me all of a sudden what he thinks.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

“But you’re giving every indication that you don’t.”

“It works incredibly well—as long as the witness follows the rules to the letter—but sometimes that proves to be difficult. Especially for someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“You’re close to your family, you’re almost finished with your educational track and ready to embark on the career you’ve worked so hard to achieve . . . not to mention the line of work you’re going for—Jesus, working with special needs individuals. You have passion and dedication—with that kind of outward, forward, progressive thinking and idealism, you’ll want out of the ambiguity of the WPP within the first week.”

All of a sudden his deduction feels more like a judgement. Or maybe it’s because I’ve just realized that earlier he wasn’t simply trying to get to know me. His motive was completely just to read me.

What is wrong with you, Rachel? “So all of those questions you asked me before, you were you just sizing up my situation?”

“That’s what I do, Farrington.”

Something about his blunt admission stings. I won’t waste my breath telling him to call me Rachel. “They’ll capture Miguel, and once they do I can go home.”

“It’ll be better for you if someone kills him.”

“I thought you said he’d receive the death penalty.”

“I believe a judge and jury will convict him. If they can catch him,” he says. “Question is, can they catch him?”





Chapter Eight



Ryder





Farrington stares out the window while she chews on the inside of her lip.

Both our heads turn to follow the sign that reads, “Shreveport 86 Miles.” Then we look at each other at the same time.

I wonder what she’s thinking, then she asks, “What happens to you . . . once you deliver me safely into FBI custody?”

“I go home.”

She nods and puts her eyes back onto the passing scenery. “Where’s home?”

“Minnesota.” All of a sudden home doesn’t sound appealing.

The f*ck? I don’t want to leave her? I think about that and can’t decide if it’s my instincts telling me she’s not safe or if it’s my dick remembering what she looked like in that towel. I shake my head to clear it. I have a job to do and I’m here to get it done.

“Were you born and raised there?”

“No.” I decide that’s enough said.

Back at the hotel I was all badass. I’d played the hero, and it felt f*cking great, especially when she smacked the alligator with the oar. She was trying to help me; it was the first step in our fragile trust process.

Then she came out of the bathroom in nothing but that little towel. It was the gold movie scenes are made of. Fucking outstanding!

I adjust myself in my seat as my dick remembers what she looked like too. And how she acted. Her eyes weren’t scared any longer. In fact, they’d been almost hungry.

My flirting was casual enough. But the truth is, I hadn’t really wanted to leave that hotel room so soon. At least not before taking something that wasn’t mine.