Stryker: Dragon Protectors Page 4

  This time she sat across the coffee table from me in a rocking chair that she seemed to sink into.

  “We don’t really talk about that.”

  Her expression dropped. “So tell me about you. You met my parents. Tell me about your parents. Do you have brothers or sisters?”

  Pain twisted like a knife in my gut as Declan’s face filled my mind’s eye. “A brother. He’s gone now. And so are they.” I’d lost everything. Everyone. Not to anything incredible. My parents were hit by a drunk driver and died instantly. My brother, though, he’d taken his own life two years ago.

  I should have been there to save him. But I hadn’t been there when he needed me most. Lost in the agony of the past and the thoughts that I was totally alone in the world, I didn’t notice she’d moved until her arms closed around me.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly against my chest.

  Her sweet gesture warmed me like a balm for my wounded soul. “This is super uncomfortable. One second.” She shifted, trying to get comfortable with her arms wound around my shoulders.

  I smiled as she snuggled into me and buried her face in the curve of my shoulder. If I was being honest with myself, I would admit I liked her company. I loved her attitude, her kindness, the gentleness of her. She was one of those all-around good girls that had always appealed to me. Though I had no doubt she’d stand up for herself and fight like hell if she needed to. Which only added to her appeal.

  “I like this.” Her softly spoken words stoked the fire in me.

  “I like it too.” I ran my hands up her back and held onto her as she relaxed in my arms. “Tell me about you,” I said.

  She stiffened in my arms. “There’s not much to tell,” she whispered.

  I chuckled and she lifted her head to look me in the eye. “Are you… laughing at me?” She sounded betrayed.

  “Of course not.”

  She narrowed her eyes, that playful look not disappearing. “You are laughing.” With a shake of her head and an adorable little snort, she tucked her head back into my shoulder. Her breath warmed my skin.

  I couldn’t like her. I couldn’t want her. It’s a bad idea to mix business and pleasure. And oh, damn does she look and feel like pleasure personified.

  And it didn’t help one bit that she wasn’t an actual paying customer. It was easier for me to compartmentalize work and play when the lines were clearly defined. But this reminded me more of a lover’s retreat than a client and employee situation. It was harder to separate when I could smell her arousal. Worse yet, that I knew she was untouched.

  Though I’d had my fair share of women turned on, this wasn’t the same. Her interest wasn’t another notch in her belt, another experience to cross off some list only she knew about. I could taste that slight edge of fear and confusion radiating off her. This was about as pure as lust could get.

  She finally let me go and backed off a little bit. “I guess I should get to bed, huh? It’s getting late.”

  Startled, I glanced out the window. The sun had sunk over the edge of the horizon and the moon sparkled in the sky. She was right. Where had the time gone?

  “Goodnight,” I said, not making a move. I didn’t trust myself to get up. Correction, I didn’t trust myself to get up and not follow her into the room she’d chosen to sleep in. Instead, I sat and stared out the window, searching for scents that didn’t belong, sounds I didn’t recognize, or lights that shouldn’t be there.

  Of course there was nothing.

  Still, I waited. I waited until she should be asleep. I waited until I talked myself out of going into her bedroom. I waited until there was no chance she would still be awake.

  And finally, I got up and headed into the room next to hers. I didn’t want too much more than a wall between us in case I needed to act fast. If life had taught me anything, it’s that when shit hits the fan, it happens fast, and you have to be ready to get the fuck out.

  I undressed to my boxers and hesitated as a soft sound caught my attention. Tilting my head, I listened for it and heard it again. A delicate sniff. A soft whine like a weak puppy’s.

  She was crying.

  I walked to the wall that separated us and placed a hand on it, wishing I could lend her strength and help her through this. Everything would be okay. She’d make it through this.

  As if she felt my presence, she quieted down and my heart throbbed in my chest.

  I wanted nothing more than to break down her door and crush her in my arms. I wanted to hold her close and tell her that everything would be okay.

  But I didn’t.

  I couldn’t.

  Because I wouldn’t be here at the end of this. She needed to find the strength within herself. She needed to dig deep for that resilience all on her own.

  She needed to rely on herself, no one else, for comfort.

  But I didn’t feel good about it as I crawled into bed. I felt like an asshole. Because she’d comforted me when I needed it, and here I was ignoring her when she needed someone to lean on.

  Fuck.

  7

  Kat

  I wandered into the kitchen, chasing the scent of fresh-brewed coffee. The sunlight streaming in the windows aggravated my already-aching head and I wished again that I hadn’t been so stupid. Crying myself to sleep didn’t help a dang thing, it only made me headachy, groggy, and annoyed first thing in the morning.

  “Good morning.” Stryker smiled at me and poured a second mug of coffee. I nodded as he slid it across the breakfast bar toward me. “There’s creamer in the fridge, sugar here, sweetener here.” He gestured at the different containers on the bar and I dumped some sugar in the coffee and stirred it up before wrapping my chilly fingers around the steaming hot mug like I could steal all its warmth for myself.

  “Thank you.” I stared into the dark brew, trying to clear out the cobwebs of sleep.

  My new reality hit me. As beautiful as my surroundings were, I knew this wasn’t a vacation. I was here because people wanted to kill me. Not only that, but my final words to my father had been cruel.

  I’d told him I was sick of him. I’d ripped into him about not cleaning up after himself. For making me be the adult. I’d blamed him for the fact that I had to work so hard. And while it might be partly true, it was also not totally true.

  Feeling awful, I let go of the mug and planted both elbows on the breakfast bar and pressed my palms to my forehead. What the heck was I going to do? Hide out forever? In the stark light of day I knew this plan wouldn’t last. Unless I could move away, I’d be on the run from these guys for forever. And as it was, I was broke and likely to be fired since I was obviously going to be missing work for the foreseeable future.

  I blinked back miserable, helpless tears, hating myself for this knee-jerk reaction. Crying wouldn’t help. Still.

  “Everything okay?” Stryker sounded concerned.

  “No.” Everything was absolutely not okay. Everything was falling apart around me and while I should be incredibly happy to be getting this vacation I’d been craving, this was like some twisted monkey’s paw wish come true. I’d gotten what I wanted, sure, but at what cost?

  “Want to talk it out?”

  He sounded cautious and I wondered if he thought I was going to explode on him. I didn’t doubt other people had in the past, but that’s just not who I was.

  “There’s not much to say.” Why did that keep coming up? “I’m going to get fired from my job or jobs. I’m broke, and this might make me lose my home. And to top that all off, there’s no way I can ever go home safely. I mean, these guys won’t just give up if I drop off the face of the planet for a few days. Right?”

  I glanced at him and saw him studying me very closely. “Right.”

  I nodded. “So this is an exercise in futility. I’m going to lose everything anyway and they’re going to win.” Hopelessness washed through me and my shoulders dropped so hard pain shot up and down my spine.

  “I have to disagree. This way you have your life
. You can come back from this. You can’t come back from dead.” He studied me over the rim of his coffee cup.

  I lifted both shoulders. “I guess. But if I lose everything… What’s the point? I’ve worked so hard and I’m just going to lose it.” My whole life could be considered a cruel joke. I worked every second away but still never made any progress. Working two jobs I still couldn’t afford to even take a day off. I could only keep working and struggling to keep my head above water.

  At this rate, I’d work until I dropped dead. Likely at a young age from stress. But at least my fight would be over.

  Shame raced through me at the thought and I sucked in a deep breath. I wasn’t the kind of girl to give up. Not now, not ever.

  “I’m sorry.”

  I lifted my head and met his gaze head on. “Why are you sorry? You’ve been nothing but kind and helpful.” Not to mention what he’d put together for my parents.

  “I’m still sorry you’ve had such a rough go of it. You deserve better.”

  I shrugged. I’d never bought into the whole getting what we deserve philosophy. Bad things happen to good people. You make a choice; sink or swim. I chose to swim. Dad sank. Mom sank, though hers wasn’t her fault. Her disease ruled her life and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it.

  “Thanks.” I didn’t know what else to say, but I wanted to acknowledge him. “Do you believe good things happen to good people?”

  “I used to.”

  Stunned, I stared at him. “And that changed because…?”

  Both his eyebrows lifted. “Because you’re a good person and life has been hard as hell on you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly know if I’m a good person or not. For all you know I’m a serial puppy murderer.” I winced as I said the words, disgusted at the very idea.

  “Convincing. Especially when just saying the words hurts you.” His lips curved into a grin and I glared at him.

  “It didn’t hurt.”

  He arched an eyebrow at me.

  “Okay, how did you know that?” I asked, suspicious. How could he possibly know what I feel? It wasn’t’ possible, but then again he’d said that dragons have skills they prefer not to discuss. If I could tell how people were feeling I’d consider that almost a form of mind reading; absolutely not a skill you’d want people to know you have.

  Suddenly uneasy, I shifted in my seat. The kitchen barstool was comfortable, but I was not.

  He opened his mouth to answer, but his phone rang, and he pulled it out of his pocket. His brows met over a frown as he stared at his phone.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  He nodded, glancing up at me quickly before holding up his phone. “I have to take this. Give me one moment,” he said.

  I nodded and he walked toward the front door. Only after the door closed behind him did I hear him answer the call, though I couldn’t hear the words.

  I watched him stand on the porch through the frosted glass on the front door, then focused on my coffee again. I wished I could find answers in the tiny bubbles clinging to the edges of the mug.

  No matter how hard I thought about it, I kept winding up going in circles. If I didn’t work, I couldn’t pay the mortgage. I’d lose the house. Even if Stryker managed to get me an extended stay here, I didn’t have savings to use to cover the time off. Plus, Mom and Dad were so far away…

  I took a drink of the coffee, burning every taste bud on my tongue. Sucking a cooling breath into my mouth, I blinked back tears. Could things get any worse? I mean, one small pleasure about being here was the chance to eat anything. And I’d just made sure I couldn’t taste anything for a week. Still, none of that mattered compared to my worry about Mom and Dad.

  Pushing the coffee away, I lowered my head onto my arms on the bar. Tears slipped down my cheeks and dripped into my lap as I sat there on the barstool that was nicer than anything in my house.

  I’m stronger than this. I’ve been through hell before and always found my way out before. I’ll figure this out too. Because I have no other choice. I can’t just give up; people are counting on me and that’s not in my nature anyway.

  Sure, everything in my life might have turned upside down, but I’d get through it.

  I straightened up and pawed at my tears. I’d found a soft sweater in the dresser in the room and wore it; now I felt bad I’d be smearing tears and snot on it. It was nicer than any clothing I’d ever owned.

  I glanced at the door but didn’t see Stryker anywhere. Which was fine; I didn’t want him to see or hear me crying. I’d muffled myself last night with my pillow and he hadn’t said anything about hearing me crying last night when he poured my coffee, so I guessed it worked. Then again, after talking with him this morning, I had to wonder if I was wrong after all. Maybe he could read my mind or whatever. Maybe read my emotions. I sure as heck hoped not, because some of the feelings I’d had for him were not safe for work.

  My cheeks stung. Sheesh, I hoped he didn’t know about that part. I’d die of embarrassment if he found out about that or my total lack of experience in the relationship and sex departments.

  I took a more cautious sip of my coffee this time. Perfect. With coffee in my belly, I felt certain I could take on the world. There might be hard choices to make, but I’d make them with my head held high. I’d find a way to make things work.

  But even with my newfound sense of bravado, the thought of losing my childhood home I’d worked so hard to protect cut me to the bone. The thought of losing everything, pictures, memories, the notches on the doorframe that they’d made to measure my growth… fresh tears rolled down my cheeks.

  It was all just stuff. Nothing could take the actual memories from me.

  I’ve been through hard stuff before. Maybe not this hard. But I’d get through his all the same. Just because my life was falling apart didn’t mean I could crumble.

  Instead, I was going to relax, regain my strength, try to come up with a game plan, and be grateful for every opportunity like I’d always done.

  Picking up my coffee, I headed into the living room and settled before the TV. I turned it on, wondering if my father was watching TV at this very moment too. I wondered if they were having fun. If they missed me as much as I missed them. Were they thinking about me or just having fun?

  Was my father mad at me? Did he hate me after the things I’d said?

  With those questions eating me up inside, I turned on a show and lost myself in someone else’s world while escaping my own for a little bit.

  8

  Stryker

  “We know they kidnapped her. I have no idea how they found her or why we can’t.” Draco’s anger rippled through his voice. “Where the fuck have you been?”

  I sidestepped that question. Not because I didn’t trust him, but because the fewer people that knew the better and I didn’t want my house of cards to come crashing down just yet. “Do you think they’re going to hurt her?” The rich woman he’d been tasked with finding and protecting had proved to be a slippery individual.

  All evidence pointed to her going into hiding. But it sounded like he’d found something new that instead pointed to her being snatched off the street before we could find her.

  And I’d been so sure we’d find her. Fuck. I hated this, hated the stress crushing my brother. I’d give anything to help him out, but what the fuck could I do?

  He sighed. “No. They’re not that stupid. Hurting her would bring the whole organization into the light.”

  He had a point. But there was an easy way around that little detail.

  “Unless no one ever found her body. That would send a hell of a message, though, if she just disappeared from under our noses like that.”

  I hated to think it, but I had to wonder if one of our own was a turncoat. Fucking heaven help the traitor if they existed or were found out, though. I had no love in my heart for treasonous bastards. But I also had no pleasure in the knowledge that if there was such a person in our group, they’d be t
orn limb from limb for their transgressions.

  Rule one of the brotherhood: you put the group above your own wants, needs, and desires. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of any individual.

  “Fuck you for even putting that out there.”

  Draco wasn’t the superstitious type, but I’d learned he didn’t like letting the universe have access to the worst ideas. If he didn’t want it to happen, he had a strict rule about not saying it out loud. He’d told me once that as a young man he thought he’d been afflicted by Murphy’s Law and ever since, he’d been paranoid to let out the thoughts that fed into that.

  In the years since, he’d realized that it wasn’t a real thing, but he’d taken to the philosophy that voicing things makes a person more likely to make that thing happen. He said you could make things happen based on either conscious or subconscious actions. So, to be safe, he played things close to the vest.

  “We’ll find her, brother.” I didn’t doubt it for a second. We would find her.

  “I feel like time is fucking running out.” I’d never heard him sound so defeated before. “I’m not any goddamned closer. She just fucking dropped off the face of the planet.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just stayed quiet and let him vent.

  “If they hurt a damned hair on her head, I’ll kill every one of them.”

  I knew he’d do it, too. The bastards were human traffickers. They dealt in anything that would turn a profit; kids, young people, virgins, human organs cut from healthy people that were then left to bleed to death in back alleyways after surgeries performed without pain medication or basic decency.

  They were monsters. So we treated them as such. And if that meant bringing out the worst in ourselves when dealing with them, so be it. “You’re not alone.”

  “Thanks. So when you coming home?” The home he was referring to was metaphorical, of course. We never stayed in one place long. It was too dangerous. Our headquarters cycled on no particular pattern to help keep us out of the public eye. As for his actual home, he had a place on the outskirts of the city, just like I did.