Live By The Team (Team Fear Book 1) (17 page)

“
Just do it. And while you’re at it, try to identify the woman with Smythe right now. I’ll see you outside.” He rose and swayed like he’d had too much to drink.

“
Don’t ruin our fucking cover.”

“
Would I do that?”

“
Yes.” Rose grabbed some bills from his wallet and dropped them on the table. “Dumb fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

Ryder grinned before heading straight for the corner booth. He stumbled into the table. He reached out a hand to steady himself and knocked the glass of wine onto the woman’s lap. She yelped. He apologized with just enough of a slur to have Smythe pitching a fit, but Ryder boxed the older man into the booth.

The woman muttered foul words at Ryder as she slipped from the booth. She sashayed down the hall in a snit.

“
Sorry,” Ryder slurred. “Didn’t mean to spill wine on your granddaughter like that.” Rose slipped past on his way to the bathrooms.

Smythe sputtered. “She’s not my granddaughter.”

“
Daughter then? Sorry, not seeing so well. Must be food poisoning. Damn snotty restaurant can’t cook seafood worth a shit. What did you have?” He looked at Smythe’s plate. “Steak and lobster? Me too.” Ryder hunched closer and gagged like he was ready to hurl.

“
Get away from my table you stupid Neanderthal.”

“
Watch who you call names.” Ryder straightened his shoulders and focused his seriously pissed-off gaze on the bastard. “You don’t want me as an enemy.”

Smythe cowered into the booth. “Do I need to call the manager?”

Fucker couldn’t even stand up for himself. Ryder shook his head. “I think you got the message.”

He stalked out without a single hitch or stagger. He’d given the man more warning then he should, but no way could he watch another woman fall prey to the psycho. Rose joined him in the truck a few minutes later.

“
Way to blow your cover, shithead.”

Ryder shrugged. “Did you get the woman out of the restaurant?”

“
She got herself out of the restaurant. No help necessary.”

“
Good. You stay on Smythe. I’m going back to the townhouse to see what’s what. If they setup a meth house at the last place, we can assume they’ll do the same there. When I’m done, I’ll head back to the motel.” Where he and his wife would have a little chat.

The FOR SALE sign was gone, no longer needed now that Lauren had signed the last of the paperwork. Smythe and company had apparently thought of everything. Ryder passed one of his neighbors in the parking lot.

“
Sorry to hear you’re moving,” the man said. He worked on post. Callahan, maybe?

“
Me too.” Ryder didn’t offer an explanation.

“
I have to head back to post.” Callahan shook his hand. “Let me know if you need help packing the U-Haul.”

“
Sure thing.” Ryder waited for the man to drive off before walking around back and hopping the fence. He climbed to the back balcony and jimmied the sliding door open to get inside. He walked the silent house. She’d left the drapes hanging. It had taken her a week to decide on the right colors to match the comforter. The sight of the curtains hanging in the derelict house stirred up uncomfortable memories and more than a little guilt. He’d liked setting up house with her. Neither had had a stable home life as kids. She’d wanted to put their stamp on the place and after the failed last deployment, he’d jumped in with both feet.

They spent more time in the furniture store and the lumberyard than they did the bedroom. Ryder shook his head. No, not really, but they had traipsed from place to place, buying every little thing to turn the nondescript townhouse into a home. Now the furniture was gone, but divots still gouged the carpet showing where they’d had the bed and dresser. Ghosts followed him down the stairs. The sun cast a shadow of red and blue on the stairwell. The stained glass she’d found at an antique shop still hung in the high window. She probably hadn’t been able to reach it when she’d moved out.

The downstairs smelled empty, a little musty and dusty. Abandoned. There were nails still in the wall where she’d hung artwork. A ragged edge of paint marked the line between the dining room and the kitchen. They’d been painting the day Madigan called. He’d dropped everything and went to help. And left Lauren to clean up the mess.

Ryder rubbed a hand over his eyes. The right thing was to stay with his wife and protect her from assholes like Smythe, but the only way to truly protect her was to stay the fuck away. He was the dangerous one. When the sheriff had shown him pictures of Madigan’s wife and kid, Ryder had gone absolutely still. He’d seen the horror of war, but the crime scene photos were pure evil. If what they’d done to Ryder when he’d transferred to Team Fear endangered Lauren, if for one second he thought he could do damage to the woman he loved, he’d end himself. He hadn’t been able to go back to her, knowing that the same thing that fucked with Madigan’s brain swam through his blood.

But he’d left her unprotected. Was this empty, soulless house the cost? Ryder drifted through the shadows, opening doors and cabinets, finding nothing left of the hope they’d tried to build together. It was his first and only home, and he’d only stayed four months. Lauren deserved so much better.

Ryder punched the steel door leading to the garage. He wondered what she did with his tools and the paint. He opened the garage to find a pile of supplies sitting where her truck usually parked. He stalked into the dim, cold space. Black plastic covered the small windows in the garage door. The garage door opener had been disconnected. In the center were stacks of supplies. Heavy plastic and more of the same shit he’d found at the meth house the night he found Lauren.

Someone was moving into their house of broken dreams, and they were bringing a full lab. Ryder snapped pictures with his smart phone and sent them to Rose, and then he retraced his steps to the front door. The lockbox was missing from the front knob, because Smythe and associates didn’t want anyone walking into their shady business. Ryder’s heart slammed into his chest. He needed to find Lauren, because whoever was setting up shop meant business, and Lauren didn’t fall into line with Smythe the way the other victims had. She was wearing a big fucking target and once again, he’d left her alone.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

As the day cooled and the sun slanted towards evening, Lauren dropped into the bar to pick up her paycheck. She and Debi had depleted her tips when they went to lunch and the mall. Debi talked her into a new pair of boots, which she needed like another ride in the trunk of a stolen car, but according to Debi, recovery from a bad relationship required a spree. Food. Shopping. Booze. In that order.

They’d blown through her cash at the mall, so Lauren needed her check to pay for the final step in her recovery plan. The manager was tending bar this afternoon, so Lauren headed straight for him. Debi waited in the car, afraid he’d call her in if things were busy. The bar traffic looked steady with a few military guys, students, and a rowdy group of cowboys sitting at the bar. Nothing Frank couldn’t handle himself.

When Frank finished pouring a whiskey for the guy at the other end of the bar, he headed her way. “What happened to your face?”

“
Oh, yeah, that.” No wonder the gal at the shoe store gave Lauren that
bless her heart
look. Lauren touched her jaw, which was the body part that wouldn’t stop throbbing. “Car accident—”

“
Did you hit a Mack truck?”

“
Not exactly. I need the next few days off.”

“
Sure. You try to serve beer looking like that, you’ll blow your tips to hell.”

“
Thanks, Frank. That’s what I was worried about.” The sarcasm came naturally. “Do you have my check?”

He dug through the file box beneath the cash register and pulled out an envelope with her name. The amount made her bank account cry. “Do you have enough in the register to cash it for me?”

The rolls on his belly bounced when he laughed. “I think I can count that high.”

She signed the back of the check and grabbed the very small stack of bills he laid on the bar. “I’ll give you a call to let you know when I’m back on the schedule.”

“
If you’re more than a week, I’ll have to hire someone new.”

“
You’re all heart, Frank.” She pocketed the money and headed for the door. A couple guys in the corner booth called her over by name. When she stepped closer, she recognized the soldiers who’d bought drinks for the coeds. Baby Face Joe was missing—he’d found his college girl—but the other three sat in the booth sucking back draft beer. They looked similar, same height and breadth, same high and tight haircut. Actually, they were big for guys their age, but they couldn’t hide their smooth boyish faces.

“
I’m not working today,” she said before they could ask for another round. “But I can call your waitress over.”

“
Wait.” The guy on the end grabbed her arm, his grip deceptively strong. The hair on her arm stood on end, and panic pounded her chest, but she took a deep breath. Just because two losers had attacked her the other night didn’t make all men assholes. The soldiers seemed decent, but she still extricated her arm from his grasp.

“
Sorry.” His faced flushed pink. “We were just wondering, if, uh, you’ve seen the girls from the other night.”

Geez. “Sure, they slipped me a note in history class.”

“
Sucker.” The guy next to him jabbed an elbow in the soldier’s rib. “She burned you, Hedrick.”

Hedrick’s face went from pink to flaming red. “If you see them—”

“
Sorry, I’m not a messenger.” She turned, but the soldier hopped out of the booth and followed her several steps.

“
Ma’am.” Hedrick didn’t grab her this time, but rather dogged her steps. His height surprised her. She’s always seen the soldiers seated in the booth, but he dwarfed her, standing nearly as tall as Ryder. Her heart rate jumped. “Please.” He hunched his shoulders. “We had a good time the other night, and I don’t have a way to get ahold of Anna.”

Lauren stopped at the entryway. “I can’t give you her number.” And man, she sounded heartless. Not every soldier was a jerk. Just the one she’d married. Despite the guy’s size, Hedrick seemed sincere in a sweet Midwest way. One more pout from his puppy dog eyes and she caved. “Check with your friend Baby Face. He may have a way in for you.”

“
Really?” The guy’s dark brows lifted. “No wonder he wasn’t in the barracks today.”

Lauren smiled. “You boys stay out of trouble.” She walked out the door and straight into hard-packed flesh. “Sorry.” She looked up into Ryder’s hard eyes. “Or not.” She pushed off his chest, but he grabbed her forearms and held on. Hedrick was easy to brush off, but Ryder’s grip was immutable. The boy inside was just as tall, similar weight, but Ryder sent her heart into near convulsions with a touch. He wasn’t even skin-to-skin, but rather rubbed her forearms through the leather jacket.

Lauren took a deep breath. Theirs was an unhealthy cycle she needed to break.

“
Why didn’t you stay in the motel room?”

“
Hi, Ryder, how are you? Great, my day was so-so after waking up alone, but yeah, thanks for asking.”

His eyes narrowed. “The motel? Why did you leave?”

The wind picked up, sending a chill shivering up her body. “So you actually went back to the motel?”

A tick twitched in his right cheek. “Of course.”

“
Pardon me for doubting you.” She resorted to sarcasm to put a little distance between them. His warmth so close weakened her resolve. She needed to stay away from the man who would surely be the emotional death of her. Even so, he had gone back to the motel room.

“
We discussed this yesterday. Stay down, stay safe.”

“
I was taking care of myself long before you showed up, and I’ll be taking care of myself when you leave.” Her voice hitched on the last phrase. God help her, but she didn’t want Ryder to leave.

“
It’s about your safety. I’m not being a jackass.”