Page 90 of Redemption

Damn it.The Ivan Mikhailov effect struck again. “I might’ve been kidnapped, but I’m still the same PI, bounty-hunting bitch you knew before.”

“Never said you were a bitch.”

“That’s right. You implied that I was young,” Victoria snapped. Maybe she should have stayed in bed. Lenora was a good resource, and there was no need to get on the attorney’s bad side.

But really, what it came down to was screw the side effects from Ivan. No matter what, she would find a way to make everything right.

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Age is a number. Attitude is everything, and you’ve always had the ‘tude.”

More like a will to prove herself.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” The call disconnected.

“I don’t know about attitude.” Gumption? Was that too old-school a word? Victoria pulled open a drawer and dropped the phone into it. She closed her eyes and rocked back in her chair, kneading her knuckles into her forehead. The door opened, and she startled, hand snatching the subcompact handgun secured in the ready-access holster under her desk. She drew and focused, pointing the barrel dead ahead.

Ryder.

He remained calm. Still. Bare chested and with pajama pants hanging low on his waist, he waited for her to realize that it was him and no one else.

Her finger slipped off the trigger and her hand fell, letting the weapon thud onto the top of the desk. Adrenaline flooded her bloodstream. “Shit. I’m sorry.”

Ryder opened the French door all the way. “Easy there, love. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” She casually shut the laptop and took the gun off of her desk, sliding it back into the holster. “I’m used to being alone.”

“I get it.”

She could’ve killed him. “…lost in thought.”

“Looked like,” he said.

“Thank God for steady trigger control.”

Everything that could’ve gone wrong raced through her mind, and the high of adrenaline was quickly crashing. Doomsday scenarios where she blasted a hole in his chest wrecked her vision. Guilt ate her alive. More than sneaking downstairs, now she’d nearly killed him.

“I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

“You didn’t sneak up on me,” she snapped. “I’m just jumpy. Reactionary. Maybe I shouldn’t even be around people.”

Ryder walked around the edge of her desk and put his hands on her shoulders, kneading and massaging the tense muscles. “Do you want to come back to bed, or do you want me to stay up?”

Every part of her wanted to tell him to run away from her, that she’d lied about why she was down here, right before she’d almost shot him. Her rigid muscles were as unforgiving as her mind, but Ryder seemed stubborn in her silence, letting his thumbs work up her neck, pushing circles under her hairline until finally, she couldn’t take it anymore and she dropped her head forward, letting out a breath she’d held in as a protective barrier.

“That’s my girl,” he soothed.

God, what had she done to deserve him? Her eyes fell shut as his hands crawled back down her neck, and his fingers dug deep, almost to the point of pain, but it felt so good that she wanted to moan for more, wanted to feel that down her shoulders and along the length of her spine. The neediness was so selfish. “Your hands feel so good.” She let out a languid sigh. “I love them on my body.”

“I love them on your body too.”

She hummed as he pushed along the length of her shoulders, pressing below her collarbone. “We should go back to bed.”

“You finished working?”

Tension snapped her back into reality, and she stumbled for something that wouldn’t be a lie. “Just saying I was back in town. It doesn’t matter now.”

“No?”

Not for a few more hours at least.“Let’s go upstairs.”

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