Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3)(39)

“Lay down,” he orders.

I nod compliantly as he pulls back the sheet and waits for me to slip into the bed. Curling up facing Ryder, I hug my pillow—yeah, it’s a lousy substitute.

He takes a step into the kitchen area and takes a chair from the table, then sets it next to the head of the bed before sitting down with eyes wide open like a sentinel.

“Hey, Thompson, how about you turn off the television. It’s going to keep her awake.” Ryder starts barking orders. “And O’Connell, if you turn off the light you’ll live longer.”

I giggle at the good-natured threat.

“Thanks, Ryder.”

“No problem, Farrington.”

“It’s Rachel.”

“Yeah, I know.”





My mind stirs towards consciousness, but before I open my eyes I can’t remember where I am. For a moment between the twilight of sleep and wakefulness, I believe I’m still locked away in Miguel’s home. I startle awake, crying out.

“You’re okay. You’re safe.” The sound of Ryder’s voice cuts through the haziness and dissipates my terror.

I want to gather myself up and lunge into his arms, onto his lap. Let him hold me again—but all the agents are watching now that I cried out. My heart thumps wildly and adrenaline rushes.

“Breathe like this—in through your nose, out through your mouth—slow and easy, and it’ll calm you down,” Ryder instructs me as he does it himself as an example.

I follow his lead and wonder if it will help me not to cry in front of them all.

What I dreamt was all too real, and so are the events that are about to take place today. I’ll get up, shower and have some coffee, maybe a little breakfast, and then my detail will be bringing me back to New Orleans—to hide in plain sight, they called it.

Yesterday, I begged to go home, but they said no. They believe that would put my mom and Lemy in danger.

And maybe worse at this point, I know Ryder won’t be staying. I’m with the real agents this time and am safe, and he has a life and a job—and probably a girlfriend to get back to.

I close my eyes against the pain. I’ve known Ryder Axton for one day.

One day that feels like a lifetime.

But it was one day, nonetheless, a sequence of mere hours, and I have to let him go.

Silently, I roll out of the bed. I go about the morning ritual of readiness without speaking a word or even throwing a casual glance in his direction; I can’t—the fear and loneliness are too goddamn close—I’ll break.

I’ll shatter.

I brush out my long brown hair and check my make-up-less reflection in the mirror. Despite the sleep, I still look drawn and haggard. Dark circles punctuate my eyes. But there’s nothing else to be done, no procrastination I can think up to stay with him longer. My eyes meet the closed bathroom door. The men on the other side are antsy; they want to get out of the cramped room as desperately as I don’t.

I finish dressing in the camo military-issued fatigues I was given. If Miguel’s men are watching from a distance, I should blend in. Even a few of the agents are clothed like this.

The only obstacle holding me back is a wooden door. Putting on my brave face, I join the others in the main room.

One of the agents speaks into an ear monitor. “The dove is ready. Is the convoy prepared?”

He listens intently before responding, “Affirmative.”

“You’re in good hands now,” Ryder tells me.

It could be my own delirious imagination, but to me it looks like he may feel as I do—that we’re walking away with unfinished business.

And isn’t that the worst—the wondering about what could have been?

I’ll miss you hangs on my lips. I run my tongue across the words so they don’t spill loose.

“I have something for you.” He reaches into the wide pocket on his thigh and removes a small black box, like one you’d keep jewelry in.

Ryder dispenses with formalities and opens the box himself. His fingers hook around a silver chain, excavating the delicate necklace from the midnight velvet that holds it. He lets the chain dangle in the air so the sunlight streaming through the windows catches the pendant. Brilliant green gems are arranged among crystals and silver that curves to create a beautiful four leaf clover. It sparkles and dazzles, and I immediately love it.

“It’s for good luck. To keep you safe.” He takes a step into me and reaches his arms around my neck. “Pick up your hair.”

My muscles move by memory only, as if on autopilot. When my hair is gathered, he fastens the chain around my throat.

For a moment the clover simply dances against my throat while neither of us move.

“Your life will go back to normal sooner than you think. You’ll be back in classes and on that career track of yours; you’ll have a boyfriend, and all of this will only be a fading memory.”

“Do you really believe I could forget you so quickly?” I whisper, overcome.

Ryder brings his lips to my ear and in a hushed tone that is simple as a breath he says, “Then don’t.”

He steps back before I have a chance to respond.

“She’s all yours. Make sure I don’t have to intervene again,” he orders, and then he walks out the door.

He leaves!