Page 100 of Rival to the Billionaire

I stretch, shoving the sleeves of my Henley shirt up to my elbows. "Look, pick all the bones you want, Al. But first, let's get the hell out of here and go somewhere safe."

"Somewhere safe?"

"Somewhere safe where we can drink what’s left of that confiscated bourbon the cops took from my backpack and whatever I have stashed at home. Somewhere where your annoying questions won't make me want to put my head through a wall."

Alton does a double-take. "I don't think that place exists… But I guess your place is good enough. I can't stay more than an hour. I have an early meeting.

"Got it. Let's go. Lead the way in your boring-ass Volvo."

"The Volvo doesn't land our pretty asses in jail, Ryder."

"Touché." I shake my head and follow him out the jail door.

* * *

I walkinto my central business district penthouse, wondering if it will ever feel like home again.

Alton and I sit on opposite couches across from one another, but it feels strange. I can't remember the last time we were together in this place.

Slumping in my seat, I motion to the minibar. "Get whatever you want. I'm too tired to look for anything, but if you find it, I'll drink it."

"Wow. Nice to receive such a welcoming reception," he says with a hint of sarcasm.

I completely ignore the barb. "Shit." With one tired hand, I wipe the scowl from my face. "Sorry, man. It's been a long evening."

I sigh, pressing the heel of my hand against my forehead.

I'm a ball of nerves right now, and all I want to do is take a nap.

"You all right?" he asks.

"That depends on your definition of 'alright'."

He doesn't move. Instead, he crosses his arms and looks at me. "I don't know why you did it, Ryder." His voice has a hard edge I can only attribute to the years he's been practicing law. "But I'm not here to judge you. I'm here to help you, and that's what I intend to do. But you need to start talking."

“Well, I’ve told you about the same amount of info that I've told Quentin. I was in trouble. The cops didn’t listen. And things got…complicated."

He doesn't seem too happy with that answer. "Okay, well, let's start at the beginning. Why were you flying on your BMW bike like a bat out of hell in the middle of the night? Why were you on the highway, speeding? And why were you carrying a backpack?"

I bunch my brows. "Don't know… I guess I was just in a hurry."

"Were you thinking about drinking while driving?" he asks.

"No. No, I wasn't. I wanted to clear my head. Get some air."

"And where were you headed?"

"To nowhere in particular."

He nods. "Why not hang out with someone at home? Or call someone up? I'm sure you have plenty of women on speed-dial."

My mind goes to Jenny. "Not anymore."

"What, hard to find a woman who appreciates you as much as you appreciate yourself?" His thick chestnut brown eyebrows barely move, but I know that face. It's the face that says my stoic, strait-laced brother is smiling on the inside.

"I've got more pressing issues. Actually, I prefer to keep my women at arm's length. That way, I just need to pull them into bed quickly, and then push them out so I can move on with my life."

"So, back to the same old rule? No dating anyone that you can remotely give a shit about?"

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