Defy (Brothers of Ink and Steel Book 3)(45)

Ryder tunnels through his hiding place and yanks me back through with him. He grips my shoulders, forcing me to look in his eyes. “I will never stop until you’re safe.”

“Why? Why do you care?”

He swallows hard. “Because you are not dying on my watch—and neither is your sister. No f*cking way. Do you trust me, Farrington?” He urges me for an answer. “Tell me you trust me.”

My fingers come up and graze the sweet little four leaf clover that hangs around my neck. After Ryder put it on me, the good luck charm quickly became a part of me. For the last few weeks without him, I’ve made a habit of smoothing my fingers over its surface when I’m thinking or need strength or when I think of the man who has become more a part of me than he could ever imagine.

I nod. “A tracker. I should have known.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Farrington.”

“Yes, despite my earlier actions.”

He lets out a lungful of air and looks relieved, as if he expected me to say no.

“I couldn’t figure out how you knew. It seemed like there was only one way you could’ve known.”

“I should’ve told you. About the . . . gift.”

“So, does this make you my guardian angel?”

“No, Farrington. I’m no angel.” He looks away.

“Despite what you believe”—I lay my hands on both sides of his firm, prominent jaw, which clenches at my touch—“I believe you are.”





Chapter Eleven



Ryder





After Farrington tells me Miguel’s instructions, I do a quick Google search about Midsummer Mardi Gras. It looks like it’s a barely toned-down version of the real holiday. There will be plenty of partying in the streets, and the Krewe of OAK even puts on a parade with floats. There’ll still be an abundance of costumes and revelry, but instead of the millions of spectators and participants that gather for the festivities during true Mardi Gras, this mid-year spectacle usually hosts tens of thousands of people that come out from the city. It will start today and continue into tomorrow morning.

“This is what we’re going to do.” I give her two hundred dollar bills. “Get to the Hotel Bourbon on Toulouse Street. It’s close to the streetcar stop. Register under the name of Sarah Lake—they’re not the kind of establishment that will ask for ID, especially since you’re going to drop them the cash and tell them to keep the change.”

“Then what?”

“Then you stay put. I’ll get supplies and meet you there in about an hour.” I scoop an extra burner phone from my pocket and program my number in. “If anything happens or if you need help, call. I’ll only be about hundred yards behind you the entire time. Once you’re safely locked behind the door in your hotel room, call me immediately. You’re not safe out in the open here, so go.”

She walks out ahead of me, and I wait until she’s a safe distance away before I take a side street that will reconnect with hers. I know this city like the back of my hand—a lot of skips try hiding here in New Orleans because it’s such an easy place to blend in.

Once she makes it to the hotel, I wait for a good ten minutes before my phone rings.

“Are you in?”

“I’m in,” she says, out of breath. “Room 17.”

“Try to lay down. Even if you can’t sleep, you can rest. I’ll announce myself through the door when I get there.”

“Okay,” she says and we disconnect.

I hit a find anything store and put together everything I think we’ll need, go back for the rental car I had parked near the cemetery and get to the hotel.





“It’s me, you can open the door,” I call out.

A moment later Farrington is unlocking the locks. When she opens the door I ask, “You alright?”

She nods and turns away, not wanting to meet my eyes. But hers are red and bloodshot, and she’s crying but trying to get ahold of herself.

I put the bags on the bed and come up behind her, then I lay my hands over her tense shoulders.

“I messed up, Ryder.”

“No you didn’t—”

“You don’t understand. He’s going to kill me no matter what, but I sealed my fate, making sure my death will be long and torturous.” She groans and attempts to stifle a sob.

“What are you saying? Why would he want to torture you?”

“Because . . . do you remember when you found me? There was a man with a knife.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“He came to cut me up.”

“You said they were going to sell—”

“Sell me, yes. So I lied. I told him I was friends with Drew and knew where he had hidden his missing drugs.”

“Oh, Farrington.”

“I thought it might buy me a little time.” She covers her face with her hands. “I told them I couldn’t give them directions, because the place he’d hidden them could only be accessed by a Tulane student. I thought they’d have to let me loose so I could show them where to go. I figured, at the very least, I was buying myself some time to come up with a better plan. That’s when the guy with the knife started to interrogate me, yelling at me to tell him where the drugs were that I helped Drew steal. He told me he was going to cut me up if I didn’t tell him.”