Page 24 of Ryder's War

“Abigail Fucking Andrews, according to my Darkness,” the woman replied smartly.

Tossing her a little smirk, Tiffany gave the woman a gentle shove into the room. “That sounds like our illustrious leader. Nice to meet you, Abigail Fucking Andrews. I’m Tiffany Stone.”

“You can call me Abby. Just don’t ask me for advice, ‘cause I tend to go a bit mental.” She made a little hand motion beside her head, rolling her eyes and twisting her features in demonstration.

Trying not to laugh, Tiffany responded playfully, “Then you’re perfect for Darkness. He’s a bit mental most of the time.”

Sobering, Abby said, “Girl, you’ve got no idea.”

Hearing Ryder’s impatient voice rushing them from below, Tiffany whispered, “Get clean quick. I’ll be right back.” Running down the hall to Ryder’s room, she pulled out some clothing she left for emergencies and raced back down to the bathroom.

Along the way, it occurred to Tiffany that she hadn't had time to fully process the evening's events. The dead bird, the secret basement, a sniper with a hidden child—pieces of a puzzle she wasn't sure she wanted to solve. Maybe sometime in the near future, she'd take time for the nervous breakdown she so richly deserved.But for now, like everything else in MC life, survival meant keeping moving forward while watching the shadows behind.

~ Ryder ~

Sliding his cell phone back into his pocket, Ryder murmured the directions, hyperaware of every shadow and movement. Having both Darkness's shooter and his secret child in the same vehicle felt like juggling lit dynamite. One wrong move and everything would explode. “Turn right at the next intersection.”

“Yes, sir.” Tiffany’s voice held an equal balance of sternness and levity.

“Don’t be a smartass,” he scolded lightly. She was clearly pretending to be a prospect, and it was annoying the crap out of him.

“I’d have to have an ass to be a smartass, sir.”

“Stop calling me that.” Ryder was starting to get genuinely irritated with his lovely new bride-to-be being playful in front of the enemy. Cutting his gaze sideways to Abigail Fucking Andrews, he glared at her before responding to the love of his life. “Besides, you’ve got a stunning ass.”

Tiffany lifted her chin. “Thank you, sir.” The primness in her voice was counterbalanced by the smirk she made in the rearview mirror.

Abby laughed. “You two are adorable.”

His lip curling, Ryder grunted, “No more being cute in front of the hostage, doll. I mean it.”

“Whatever you say, handsome.” Risking a small glance over her shoulder, Tiffany quipped, “That would have been the perfect time to say, ‘Yes, sir,’ right?”

Ryder shoved his fingers through his hair, ignoring her impertinent question. “We continue down this road for about three and a half miles. Then we take a left down a one-lane dirt road.”

Within moments, they were pulling into a small parking area in front of a prim little brick schoolhouse attached to an older brick colonial. Clearly, it was a home business of some sort. Ryder did a double take between the building and the dirt road to be sure they weren’t followed.

They climbed out and headed through a door marked Mockingbird Lane Early Education and Boarding. Inside, they were greeted by a rather surprised man and woman.

“What are you doing here, Ms. Andrews?”

“Sorry for not calling to say I would be late,” she said calmly and confidently.

“What do you mean late?”

Giving them a strange look, she replied curtly, “I’m paying premium prices for the occasional overnight option.”

Shoving his glasses back with two fingers, the older gentleman retorted, “Whatever you say, Ms. Andrews. Advance notice of schedule changes was part of the initial agreement. We have the children’s schedules planned out a month in advance. When you show up unexpectedly—”

“Where’s my daughter?” Abby asked coldly.

“She’s still in nursery number three. You know that’s her favorite room.”

Ryder followed his hostage down the hall, intent on getting his eyes on the child she claimed belonged to his friend. He knew that a person couldn’t always tell by looking, but Darkness had a very distinctive look about him. If the child appeared to have Native American heritage, that would be a strong indicator.

Approaching a small bed, Abby stooped down and picked up the sleepy baby lying in it and gently woke her up. The minute Ryder saw her eyes, his chest seized. They were dark, like her father’s. She was Darkness made over in babyform. It was so shocking that he couldn’t help but stare as Abby awkwardly shoved the little one into some kind of furry zip-up contraption that seemed half coat and half pillowcase.

Closing his gaping gob, Ryder got to work gathering up things, not knowing or caring whether they belonged to the school or to the family. They needed to get out of there, stat.

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