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Nicky's POV
Ryder's gone.
Maybe that should totally send me spiraling into panic . . . but it doesn't. At least, not in any way that it should.
Maybe I should be freaked out that he left me. That he changed his mind. Maybe I should be concerned that the FBI could come breaking down the door at any minute and arrest me.
None of this concerns me though. Why?
Well, it might have something to do with the sticky note stuck to my forehead when I woke up this morning. The one that said, Be back soon.
Most people put notes on pillows, nightstands, or counters. Ryder obviously thought it was a better idea to stick it to my head. Joy oh joy.
Or, it could have something to do with the handcuff wrapped around my wrist and attaching me to the headboard of the bed.
Or, it could be the second sticky note stuck onto the headboard next to handcuffs that read, Don't go anywhere . . .
Where the hell am I going to go when he's handcuffed me to the damn bed?
Lucky him my mind wasn't on going anywhere. My mind was on medieval torture methods.
I can't believe him. I thought we made some progress. Clearly, if he's still using the handcuffs-and not on himself-this is not the case.
I curse him out as I pull on the stupid cuff, trying to get myself loose. Unfortunately, I don't have any bobby pins or other locking picking paraphernalia anywhere nearby, so it looks as if I'll have to wait for Ryder to get back with the key.
Great. Just great. Perfect. Just. Freaking. Perfect. Damn him to hell.
As if he can read minds or simply be summoned like the demon he is, the door to the room opens and Ryder leisurely walks in. Sunglasses still on and a donut in his hand. Déjà vu much?
I glare at him when he doesn't say anything and just stands there. My attention goes briefly to the donut. "I hope you at least brought me one," I say angrily.
He gets that mischievous smile on his face. "Well I did, but I ate it." I glare at him.
"Correction," He says and I watch as he shoves the rest of the donut in his mouth. Thank God he at least finishes chewing the donut before he speaks again. "Now, I've eaten it."
"I hate you," I grumble before gesturing to the handcuffs and clanging the chain. "Take these off."
"In a minute," He says. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on the desk. "I kind of like you helpless."
"Come a little closer and I'll show you just how helpless I am." With a nice swift kick and a good hard punch.
"I think I'll pass," He says as he takes a seat in the desk chair. "For my own safety."
"You're not funny, Ryder," I tell him. "Take these off now."
"First," Ryder starts. "I need you to explain things. Everything. You've been giving me bits and pieces because I didn't know who you were. Now, I do. So, I need the entire story, from the beginning."
I glare at him. "And you're not going to remove the cuff until after I tell you?"
Ryder shrugs. "Maybe I'll leave it on a for a while longer, who knows." He then has the audacity to fix me with a heated look and wink at me.
My blood starts to boil for reasons that have absolutely nothing to do with anger and I feel my face flush. I have half a mind to chuck the nearest heavy object at him.
Even though I know my face is red as a tomato, I stare him back in the eyes and keep my facial expression carefully blank. "Personally," I say. "I'd prefer it to be the other way around."
I have the great satisfaction of watching his face turn red as a tomato.
I smile widely. "Weren't you the one to tell me not to start something I couldn't finish? Better start taking your own advice."
"Now carrot top, who says I can't finish it?"
The room suddenly feels way too small . . . and hot.
Before I can make a smartass reply though, there's a knock at the door.
Immediately, Ryder and I go dead still, both of us tense. Our gazes lock on the door. Ryder walks soundlessly and quickly over to me, unlocking the cuff without a word. His eyes never leaving the door. He pulls his gun from the holster clipped to his belt and walks silently toward the door.
"Ryder?" I question quietly.
"Stay there," He replies. He holds the gun behind his back as he opens the door. He lets out a sigh before bending over and picking up the newspaper on the floor. He kicks the door shut as he walks back over to me.
"It was housekeeping dropping off the newspaper," He says as he tosses the paper on the end of the bed.
I let out a breath of relief a moment too soon. Because before either one of us can make another move, the door's blown open.
The sound is deafening and smoke fills the room. Ryder grabs me and pulls me onto the other side of the bed so I'm crouched behind it. Seconds later, gunshots begin going off.
Bullets fly over out heads and embed themselves in the walls, mattress, and furniture. The lamps shatter and the windows are blown out, glass shards raining down. I start to crawl toward the desk when Ryder grabs hold of me and pulls me away.
"Are you insane?" He questions as bullets continue to spray up the room and I have to strain to hear him over the gunshots. "You'll get killed."
"I need my backpack," I tell him.
He pops up over the mattress and starts firing shots back at the people shooting at us. "Leave it," He says as he ducks back down and points to the window. "As soon as there's a break in the shooting we're getting the hell out of here."
"Not without my backpack," I say firmly.
He swears. "Leave the damn thing. I'll get you another one. It's not worth your life."
I look over his head and out the window, widening my eyes and plastering a scared look on my face-which really isn't all that hard to do considering the circumstances-like there's something behind him and when he turns to look, I take off for the desk.
"Son of a bitch," I hear Ryder shout when he realizes I've just tricked him.
I grab my backpack and see one of the shooters aim his gun right at me before he can shoot me though, Ryder's shot him and he's falling to the floor.
Ryder's arm wraps around my waist and he all but carries me to the window and throws me out of it. I stumble but am able to keep from completely falling over. I reach my hand into my backpack and grab a tray of the "mints." I open it up to view the circuitry inside and the switch to turn it on and start the countdown. I flip it before tossing it back through the open window into the room we were in.
Ryder grabs hold of my arm and starts dragging me towards his car. There's a sound like pop as if a lot of air is getting released. The next audible sound is shouting as smoke begins to fill the room and pour out the window.
"What was that?" Ryder asks as we run toward his car.
"Tear gas."
Ryder looks impressed as he looks at me. Suddenly his face grows serious again. "What's that noise?" He questions.
I listen and I can hear a ringing. For a second I think that the explosives used to blow the door off may have temporarily damaged my hearing until I realize it's the cellphone in my backpack. I reach into the bag and pull it out, surprised when I see the familiar number flashing on the screen.
I start to slow down and stop, but Ryder continues to pull me after him. Thankfully, we're no longer running at full speed since so far, none of the shooters have made it out of the hotel room to follow us.
I answer the phone and put it up to my ear. "You finally called me back," I say.
"Hey, genius," Ryder says sarcastically and I shoot him a glare. "You want to wait to take a phone call until we're somewhere safe?"
"Yeah," Quinn replies. "I was busy. Working. And I don't know why you were bothering to ask to borrow the castle. I thought I made it clear to you that you didn't have to ask."
I grimace. "Just checking. I don't think you want the kind of trouble I have showing up on your door one day."
"Trouble, I can handle. Dead friends are a little harder to deal with."
"Point taken . . ." I trail off as we arrive at Ryder's car. Something's . . . off.
"Nicky? Something wrong?" Quinn asks.
"I don't-" I cut off abruptly. My focus going back to Ryder. I reach out for him. I reach to take the keys from his hands.
"Ryder! Don't-" I don't get the chance to finish warning him as he hits the button to unlock the doors.
The car explodes, flames shooting everywhere, the sound deafening. The force of the explosion sends us both flying backward.
Somehow though, even with us both falling through the air, Ryder manages to put himself between me and the explosion. He lands on top of me, his weight supported on his hands as he covers me with his body.
Before either one of us can do anything, he's pulled away from me and then hands are grabbing me, yanking me to my feet. I strike out blindly and my fist makes contact with my assailant's face. He lets out a string of curses and shoves me away from him roughly.
"What the hell?" He says and it's only then that I realize the voice is familiar. I turn to face him to lock eyes with Damien. "I come to save your asses and this is thanks I get?"
"My hero," Ryder says sarcastically.
I put my hands over my mouth. "I'm so sorry," I mumble, my eyes wide with shock. Guilt beginning to spread through me.
I notice Ryder smiling widely though. "I'm not," He says. "That was great to watch." He turns to me. "Nice hit, rusty."
Damien glares at him before motioning for us to follow him quickly. And not a moment too soon, because gunshots start flying by us only seconds later.
Damien swears and pulls his gun. He holds out a set of keys to Ryder. "My car's around the corner. Try not to blow it up."
"You're not coming with us?" Ryder asks him.
Damien shakes his head. "I called in for some backup and I'm going to stay to meet them when they show up. I'm then going to be personally questioning any of these assholes we manage to round up."
We duck behind the building and Damien pops out to shoot a few times before ducking behind it once again. "Call me when you guys get to safe a place. If I can make it out to you then, I will."
Ryder nods. "I will. Don't get yourself killed."
Damien waves off his concern. "I'll be fine. Now get out of here."
"Thank you," I tell him before I turn and follow Ryder.
We don't talk as we make it Damien's car. And we don't talk for the next half hour or so as we drive away from the city. The only time there's any conversation is when Damien calls to say that they've managed to get hold of some of the gang members and that he's still alive.
It's only when Damien calls Ryder that I realize I don't have the cellphone I'd picked up. That I dropped it during the explosion and didn't remember to find it. Unfortunately, Quinn's likely going crazy wondering what happened.
"How did Damien know where we were?" I ask Ryder the one question that's been bugging me since we left the hotel.
"I told him we were there," Ryder says simply. "And he and I met up this morning. That's why I wasn't in the room. We needed to talk about something."
"Talk about what?" I fear I know the answer. Me.
Ryder takes a hand off the steering wheel to run it through his hair. "The other case we were working. It's all going to hell." The frustrated sigh he lets out after he says this makes me believe he's telling the truth.
"What other case?" I ask him curiously.
This gets a smile out of him. "That, gingersnap, is confidential."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You do know I could just get into your case files and look it up, right?"
"You do know, I could still arrest you."
"But you won't."
He lets out a soft laugh. "No," He agrees. "No, I won't."
After a long time of silence, Ryder finally blows out a long sigh and shakes his head. "I honestly don't have a damn clue what to do next," He says. "Or where to go for that matter."
He looks at me, his gaze going to my shoulder. "And we should probably have someone with a medical degree look over that."
I look down at the now ripped and blackened bandage covering the bullet hole. Honestly, I had forgotten completely about it, but now that he mentioned it, I was realizing that it hurt. It hurt a lot.
He seems to notice. To see some pain in my expression. "You ok?"
I shrug and the movement only brings me more pain. "I'll manage."
Ryder grimaces. "We need someplace to lay low for a while. The last thing we need is that wound getting infected. You need to relax and rest for a few days."
I scoff. "Good luck with that plan," I mutter.
A light bulb suddenly goes off in my head. "Have you ever been to Colorado?" I ask suddenly after a few moments of silence.
Ryder looks confused. "What? Why?"
"I know somebody there. Somebody who can help us."
Ryder sighs heavily. "Tell me, am I going to regret this?"
"I don't see why you would."
"Why doesn't that answer make me feel any better?" He asks me. I shrug.
He lets out another sigh before handing me his phone. "Put the address in."
"Yeah, not going to happen," I reply immediately.
"Why not?"
"Because it's not exactly someplace with an address you can just plug into the GPS. It's somewhere I'd have to show you. And giving you directions is going to drive us both insane so, I'm driving."
"Like hell you are," He responds quickly.
"What is your problem with letting me drive?"
"I'm not dying this young because I was stupid enough to let a blind, one-armed, distraction behind the wheel."
I want to strangle him for what he's said, but I pick up on something in particular instead.
"Distraction, huh?" I question.
His eyes narrow in my direction briefly. No doubt he heard something in my tone. "What?" He asks suspiciously.
I do nothing to stop the smile from forming on my face. "What exactly do you mean by distraction?"
He doesn't answer.
"I'm only wondering because if I'm that much of a distraction, then I don't think you should be driving." I touch my finger to his arm and start tracing patterns only I can see.
"I mean," I start again and watch as his hands grip the steering wheel tighter. "you never know what I might do."
I move my hands from his arm to rest on his thigh and he all but jumps out of his seat. I bite my lip to keep from laughing out loud and the next thing I know, he's pulled the car over and is unbuckling his seatbelt.
"You win," He says, his voice low and hoarse. "You're driving. Conniving little minx."
I smile smugly as I get out of the car and then slide into the driver's seat. I almost start choking when he speaks again though.
"Don't get too comfortable. You haven't seen just how distracting I can be."
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