Concealed Affliction (25 page)

“What the hell, trying to show me what he left me in Indy for? Or just trying to ruin the buzz I have going?”

Jimmy leans over and puts his arm around the back of my stool.

“Jay, the fact that you’re angry right now tells me you are in fact, full of shit. If you didn’t care about the man like you’re letting on, you wouldn’t give two shits about this woman.”

He’s probably right, but I’m not going to tell him that.

“Are you done?”

“No. Did you sit and talk with him? Maybe he had a good explanation?”

I can’t keep the sour look off my face.

“Did you start taking estrogen pills while I was away, Jimmy? Last time I checked we didn’t have these heart to hearts about the men in my life.”

“Don’t be fucking stubborn. You know as well as I do that you still feel something for that guy.”

“Okay! Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. It doesn’t change the fact he lied to me. You know how I feel about that Jimmy. Can we please just finish getting drunk so I can get a good night’s sleep?”

He squeezes my shoulder and proceeds around the island to the fridge. A sure sign that we will indeed, finish getting drunk tonight.

* * *

I hear the ringing but I can’t force myself to move. My head is pounding. I think I’m still drunk from yesterday. I crack my eyes open a little but immediately shut them when I notice Jimmy forgot to close the blackout blinds.

I feel movement on the bed and hear Jimmy finally answering the phone.

“Jay.”

He pats my shoulder, but I have no intention of moving.

“Jay, wake up.”

“Noooo.”

I pull the comforter over my head to block out the sound and the light. I just get comfortable before it’s pulled back down.

“No, Jimmy. Close the blinds!”

My voice hurts even my own ears. I crack my eyes when I feel the darkness and see Jimmy in front of me, phone in hand.

“It’s for you.”

I’m shocked for a moment, until I notice he has my burner phone in his hand.

“Hello.”

Christ I sound horrible.

“Elle.”

My body freezes at the sound of Ryder's voice.

“Yes?”

There’s a few moments of silence, until I hear him curse. 

“Dammit.”

“What do you need, Ryder? I’m tired.”

“Yes, sounds like it. Late night?” he asks with a bite to his tone, suggesting he knows exactly what I did with my late night, considering a man answered my phone.

Oh, how he would be wrong.

Although I don’t feel like correcting him right now, ultimately what I do and who I spend my time with is not his business anymore. I could be a better person and let him know who Jimmy is to me, but I feel like I’m done being the better person. It got me nowhere with him the first time except half-humiliated and a little bit heartbroken.

“Yes, it was a late night.”

“I don’t want to hear about it. I called because Brock has been up my ass because you haven’t contacted him in a while. Denny is out of service for a few days and he won’t take my word for it that you’re alright.”

“That’s because Brock doesn’t trust you. Can’t say I blame him.”

I hear his breathing on the other end of the phone, I know I pissed him off with that one but I really don’t care.

“Dammit, Elle. Just call him please so he quits blowing up my phone.”

“I will. Bye.”

I don’t wait for him to return the farewell. I hang up the phone and pull the covers back over my head.

My solitude and silence doesn’t last long before I feel the bed dip.

“I don’t think he took too well to me answering your phone.”

A grunt is all I manage for a response before I fall back into slumber.

Chapter Twenty-three

Ryder - Present Day

“Goddammit!”

I pick the phone up off my desk and hurl it across my office. I watch it smash into the slate grey wall before it falls to the polished floor, shattering into pieces. I slam my fist down on the desk and aggressively push out of my desk chair, not certain if I want to hit the wall, or hit myself.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I let her go, not by choice. Now she’s shacked up with who the fuck knows and my hands are still tied from being able to prevent it. I hate to admit the sick feeling in my gut when that guy answered the phone. I know she doesn’t have any brothers and the fact she was harping in the background asking him to close the blinds, well, that says it all to me.

Maybe I’m a stupid son of a bitch. Maybe there wasn’t a goddamn thing that would’ve kept her with me. I made my decisions based on the facts at the time and hoped to shit that she would hold out or at least hang on for a little bit longer. Maybe I didn’t mean as much to her as she does to me.

“Feel better now, dickhead?”

I swing my gaze back to the doorway at the sound of Ivan Chekhov’s voice. He’s been by my side for years. Saved me from a few bullets that got too close in Iraq and in return I pulled his ass out of a burning Humvee in Afghanistan. That shit aside, it doesn’t mean I won’t think twice about pounding my fist into the cocky bastard’s head.

“Keep your mouth shut Chekhov. I don’t want to hear it!”

He pushes off the doorway and moves to sit on the black leather sofa along the far wall of my office. He puts his hands behind his bald head, boot clad feet up on my coffee table and makes himself at home. I don’t bother to hide the scowl on my face.

“Don’t look at me like that boss, I told you from the beginning this shit would go south. It’s your own damn fault she’s shacked up in Beaver Country, with another man no less.”

I look at my big Russian friend and wonder how close we’d still be after I pound his smug face into the drywall behind his head. I also wonder how he knows what my outburst was about.

“What do you know about it?”

“It’s not what I know brother; it’s what the fuck are you going to do about it.”

I kick my desk chair out of the way and storm toward the windows looking out over the water.

“Don’t fucking play games with me Ivan, you know I did what I had to do.”

I hear him huff in annoyance, because he didn’t agree with what I did. If he knew everything I wouldn’t be put in this goddamn position with my brother in arms. I know it’s about time to come clean. I trust my men. I trust them with my life. But there are some things in this business I need to take care of on my own.

The less people who know, the better.

“I take it you don’t check in with Maverick?” he asks.

I scrub my hands over my face, annoyed and exhausted.

“He has his orders, Ivan. Unless she’s in danger, abducted, or taken to jail, he has no reason to report to me.”

Maverick is one of my best men. If something were amiss, I’d have heard from him. I don’t sit around and shoot the shit much with my guys lately. I’ve been too on edge and too wrapped up with the most stubborn fucking woman I’ve ever met.

I can’t stop thinking about her, worrying about her. The look in her eyes when she left the cottage gutted me. The Elle I once knew was
gone.
Replaced by the cold numb bitch I first met many months ago. The day I saw that Black BMW cruise through the intersection was the day I knew I was wrecked. I’ve never had a problem with women. More often than not, I‘m the one who turns them down.

I did my best to stay away from her. I knew there was something behind those cold eyes and the crass language that would be the fucking death of me. I thought maybe she’d be a quick angry fuck, get her out of my system and move the fuck on.

I was wrong.

I hadn’t touched her and yet for some fucked up reason I found ways to go about spending more time with her. At first, it just bruised my ego that this beautiful woman who was now my neighbor did everything in her power to avoid me. I made up ways to spend more time with her, from playing a damn nurse when she injured her leg, to cleaning her gutters (a task that could’ve waited until fall).

I never told her any of this, now I’m wondering if it would have made a difference.

Probably not.

I thought I knew what I had, but I didn’t realize just how much, not until she vanished into thin air after I saw the unsightly red marks covering her back.

I’ve witnessed men lose limbs beside me in battle. Hell, I’ve watched them die. It killed me not being able to protect them. But what I witnessed that night, that beautiful woman sitting on her bed. Her once smooth skin marred by slashes from a knife, well that shit
burned
me. It embedded into my bones the deepest pain and fury I had ever felt toward someone. I ached for her. I ached to hold her, protect her and never fucking let her go. It made me want to kill, regardless of what the consequences would be.

Not once in my thirty-six years had I ever felt the need to be so close to someone. Anna was a learning curve. That first real relationship we all have that eventually fizzles out once you pull your head out of your ass. Everyone before and after Anna served one purpose. Sex. That was it. Not once have I felt the need to be close to any of them.

Until Elle.

Before I saw her scars, I’d already spent more time with her than I had with any other woman in almost a decade. She intrigued me, and that’s not something that has ever happened with a woman before. After what I saw on her back, it only made me want her that much more. Not just because I wanted to protect her, but because I felt like it was one more piece to the puzzle of uncovering the woman I so desperately wanted to know.

In that moment, it was like the fog cleared. I understood her anger, I understood her attitude. I understood why she seemed to look in every direction, before she left the safety of her home.  Little did I know that what happened to her back was just one of the many tragedies that made her the person she is today.

Seeing the photos of her and her little girl is what broke me. How someone could live through so much and still live fighting today is what truly had me hooked. I’ve met weaker men in battle. Not everyone can handle so much loss.

My only hope is that she doesn’t get a wild hair and do something more stupid than heading back to Canada. I hope to hell she doesn’t put herself in the path of whoever it is who wants her dead. Call me a selfish son of a bitch, but I need more time with her. The knock on my door pulls me out of my thoughts of the woman who constantly invades them.

“Boss?”

I turn around, acknowledging Rodriguez. Ivan gets up off the couch and heads toward the door.

“Boxing night, Rodriguez. I’m kicking Hunter’s ass at seven. Loser buys the crew beer.”