Page 129 of Cross the Line
He’s the poster boy for rage with his dark eyes sunken into his glare and his pale skin stretching taut over the sharp lines of his face.
I coil my arm around Finley and pull her up onto my lap. Eli’s hurting, and I can’t let him take it out on our girl. He would never forgive himself for it.
“It… I… umm…” Finley stutters.
“Take a breath, Baby,” I whisper in her ear as Eli comes to stand in front of us, his eyes narrow on mine.
Fuck, I want to hold him, too.
I want to bury my face in his hair and tell him everything is going to be okay. Even if the chaos is overly convoluted right now. Coiling my arm tighter around Finley’s waist, I hold my other hand out to him.
It’s a moment before he takes it. Long, calloused fingers wrap around mine, and when I tug him to me, he ambles forward without fight.
“Why don’t we give you guys some time to talk on your own? We have errands to run, and the girls aren’t leaving for another hour, so youhave plenty of time.” The Sire pauses beside Dad and plucks his glasses off his face. “Come on, Smartypants. You promised you’d take me to the Cookhouse for date night.”
Dad glances across the three of us. Even looking away from Eli, I can feel his stare boring into me, into Finley… into us.
“We’re at a good place with all this information,” Dad says, closing the files and shuffling them back into the specific order he needs them to be. “It’s leverage we can use to get that emergency protective order we are after, and—” He pauses, lifting his gaze to Eli. “—regardless of the hows and whys, it’s important the three of you remain calm and clever. Don’t let any of this unnerve you.”
Eli nods.
As The Sire leads Dad out of the room, Dad glances back at us over his shoulder. His steely eyes narrow on mine in silent promise before he levels Eli with resolute spirit. “Don’t fret, Son. I’m going to bury the bastard so deep in his shit, it’ll be his grave.”
“Okay, Zorro, let’s go,” The Sire tugs Dad out of the room.
“Zorro? Really?” Dad chuffs, stepping back into the room to grip the doorknob while The Sire continues playfully ribbing him, “Fine, Robin Hood. You’re more Cary Elwes than Antonio Banderas.”
“Why not Deadpool? He’s hot?—”
“And young. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen your forties, Honey.”
“Harsh. You’re lucky I love you, cause after that…”
The office door closes with a soft click, leaving us in loaded silence. Every crackle from the fire sounds louder the longer the quiet stretches between us.
Finley’s hand on my forearm tightens when she drags in a breath and then says, “I met him once at Summer’s husband’s bar, and then when he showed up at my work. I didn’t evenmeetRyker, he bumped into me during our girls’ night and—” Finley stops abruptly, sucking in a deep breath before she wriggles out of my hold and pushes to her feet. “I was messaging you at the bar while Christina went to the bathroom. Her friend Alice was with me, waiting for her and their other friend, and I was messaging our group chat, and he crashed into me.”
She’s pacing now. Her fingers are twisting and pulling at the loose tendrils that have escaped her messy ponytail. Her face pinches like she’s thinking long and hard about that night. Diving deep into her memory.
“He crashed into me, and I dropped my phone. When he picked it up for me, I was flustered, and I took his phone by mistake. But then weswapped them back, and I put mine in my purse. That’s all that happened. That’s…”
The sudden pause of her runaway rambling and pacing plugs my airway. Finley is looking between Eli and me like she’s searching for faith in her words. Desperately seeking out understanding in our stares.
My brain is running through her words again and again.
Finley dropped her phone. The asshole picked it up. She took his phone by mistake, and then they swapped it back.
“There are photos that Summer’s husband pulled from the security footage for me.”
Eli’s gaze darts to me with confusion before focusing on Finley again. “Why would he pull the footage for you?”
“Summer asked him to after Ryker showed up at the studio… she thought that maybe we could use them for something. To help…” Her voice hollows, the wet edge tearing through my chest when she presses on, “Something is off. Something isn’t right. It doesn’t make sense for him to be following me or doing any of this. What’s in it for him?”
Somethingisn’t right about what she’s recalling. It doesn’t add up. There’s got to be something she’s forgetting between Ryker picking up her phone and when they swapped back.
Fin dropped her phone, and the prick picked it up. Then she accidentally took his phone and…something more happened here beforethey swapped it back.
“But how did he get your number?” Eli grinds out, fingers clawing at his neck. I yank my phone from my pocket and stare at it like it holds all the answers I need. “You dropped your phone, and Ryker picked it up and gave it back to you.”
