Ryder

forty one

And they were still here.

It was--It was terrifyingly obvious. It was--

My phone buzzed with a text and I momentarily turned to stone. My fingers slipped around the cool glass and I almost let it tumble off the bar counter, just about managing to keep it upright as I took out my phone from my pocket.

The text was from Ryder.

Try not to accept any more drinks from strangers, querida.

I stared at the words, repeated them in my head, and let the warmth of him, of his voice in my head, envelope me. It was a brief sense of security.

And then the cold returned.

It was only one drink, I texted him back.

One second passed--two, three, and then my phone vibrated like I'd known deep down it would with an incoming call.

"I'm trying," Ryder spoke the moment I answered the call in a tight voice, "not to be angry here, Alice."

I shuddered again. "He's gone, Ryder."

"And have you thrown the drink away?"

I stared over at the still-untouched drink right in front of me. The bartender had long since stopped making conversation with me and was busy talking to someone else around the counter.

"No," I spoke softly, too softly to be registered above the loud noise. Ryder still somehow heard me though.

"Throw it away."

"I'm not going to drink it," I said flatly, clenched my jaw, then shook my head. "I can't just throw it--"

"Do it for me."

Exasperated and a little squirmy, I pushed the glass aside until it was well and truly a great distance away from me. The bartender threw me a quizzical glance but didn't say anything. I felt my face heating up in embarrassment.

I leaned forward and pressed my forehead on the cool marble counter. "It's gone. I'm not drinking it. Happy?"

"Good," he said, voice calm and steady. Not so tight with concealed anger anymore. "Yes, I am."

I bristled a little on the stool I sat on. "Ryder," I whispered.

"Yes?"

I squeezed my eyes close once again when someone walked past where I sat, an accidental brush of shoulders even though it didn't, for a moment, felt accidental.

"I..." I clenched my jaw at the strain in my voice. "You've got your men following me."

There was a beat of sharp silence from his end.

"Haven't you?" I asked, and I knew his answer before he even spoke. I knew it because Ryder never lied to me, and it was so blatantly obvious at that moment. It should've been from the start because the men couldn't have been Santiago's. Santiago was after me, but he'd been following me alone. And both of those men hadn't harmed me in any way--their presence was alarming and freaking me out but they hadn't brought any harm to me. It should've been obvious.

"I have." He finally said.

"Please make them leave me alone," I told him and I couldn't hide the exhaustion from my voice. Tired and scared, I didn't want to-- "I don't want to feel scared anymore."

"Do you feel scared?"

All the time. "I don't want you to keep tabs on me wherever I go." I managed to speak past the hot lump in my throat. "I'm scared but I don't want...I don't want anyone following me. I don't want you to have people following me. I just want..."