Agent 57 (Book 2)

17. Please don't

Thirteen's POV

With my left arm stuck back in a sling, I use my right to hold myself up as I lean against one of the pillars leading into the restaurant.

But instead of walking in I'm facing the street. The long white dress Ryder had me wear is stained in the front-this is why I don't usually wear white-and my feet are killing me from standing in these heels for way too long.

The slight breeze has my hair blowing in my face but I don't have a free hand to brush it away since I'm using that arm to keep my balance as I keep all pressure off my right leg.

Red and blue lights dance across my field of vision as I stare-or rather-glare out at the half a dozen police cars and standard FBI vehicles parked on the street in front of the restaurant.

In case you haven't guessed it, this is all Ryder's fault.

He comes walking up to me after speaking with the police chief, his hands stuffed deep into his jean pockets.

He still has his-sorry-my sunglasses on, which makes no sense since it's dark out, and there's a small cut above his eyebrow, his shirt is slightly wrinkled now and his hair is a complete mess.

He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches me, giving me a good view of the bruises and cuts on his knuckles. He comes and stands next to me and gives me an 'innocent' smile.

If I could cross my arms at him I would. Instead, I opt for a flat look and a raised eyebrow.

"So..." He trails off as he gives another 'innocent' smile. "Want to go get pizza?"

His tone of voice makes him seem like he actually feels guilty, but I know Ryder and he may appear guilty on the outside, but on the inside, he's throwing himself a party.

I shake my head in exasperation. "Can't I go anywhere without a fight starting?" I mutter to myself. If Ryder hears me, he wisely keeps quiet.

"So...is that a yes to pizza?" He looks at me hopefully, and I know this is as close as he's going to get without outright apologizing, which I don't want him to do.

He's not sorry about what he did. He's sorry he did it in front of me and ruined the dinner we were having. Honestly, I don't care.

Probably best to explain.

2 hours earlier...

"RYDER!" I roar. I'm going to murder him...and Devin. Though it is mostly Ryder's fault. Oh well, Devin is guilty by association. "DEVIN!"

"Calm down woman. I can hear you from the third floor." Ryder pretends to clean out his ears with his fingers. I give him a deadpan look.

"I'm in trouble aren't I?" He asks when he sees my face. I nod in response.

"Any chance I'm going to get away with it?" I shake my head no.

"Are you sure I did it?" I answer his last question with a glare.

Suddenly he frowns as he takes in my appearance. "Why aren't you dressed?"

I glance down at my tank top and jeans in confusion and then up at him. He's finally wearing a button-up blue shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans, his hair is combed and styled, and he's wearing a pair of dress shoes. A suit jacket is thrown over the chair beside him.

"I am dressed," I state. "And where are you planning on going?"

"To dinner with you and my parents." He says slowly as if he's speaking with a child, I gape at him.