Page 5 of Gatling
I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced down at my hands. To be honest, I felt safe with Ryker in a way that I couldn’t put into words, for myself or anyone else.
When I didn’t reply for several seconds, he shook his head.
“Never mind. Doesn’t matter. Let’s go inside. You’ve been standing out here in the dark for too long already.”
As we made our way back to my apartment, Ryker shadowed me. Despite his heavy biker boots, he didn’t make a sound when he moved through the corridors. In comparison, my sneakers squeaked and scuffed on the linoleum. I didn’t understand how he could move so quietly, like a ghost, silent as the grave.
“Has this happened before?” he asked.
“Not really.”
I stepped into my apartment, shutting the door behind us and kicking off my shoes. Now that the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, I felt shaky and jittery. A cup of tea would help to calm me down.
“What does that mean?” Ryker demanded, gruff with a hard edge to his tone.
I turned to look at him, standing there with a frown. Black leather jacket, sharp blue eyes, the lean, angular lines of his body like a switchblade. I should have been terrified, uneasy. With his checkered past—a skilled hunter, a deadly sniper during his military days, and now, a prominent member of a biker gang—this man had violence written all over him.
But Ryker wasn’t like that with me. He never even raised his voice in my presence.
“You said,not really,” he insisted. I could have sworn a hint of his Appalachian accent came through. That rarely happened—only when he was too irritated or stressed to keep it locked down. “That’s dodgin' my question. Has this happened before, Kelsie?”
I sighed and rubbed my forehead, leaning back against the kitchen counter.
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Fuck,” Ryker muttered under his breath. “And you ain't—" He stopped, exhaling slowly before he tried again in a monotone voice that held no West Virginian twang this time. "You didn't tell anyone?"
I spread my hands, exasperated.
“What would I say? I have no proof, except those sunglasses. That’s the first time I’ve had anything tangible to go on. Everything else is just…”
I trailed off with a vague gesture. How could I raise the alarm on afeelingthat I was being watched?
Ryker went silent. This wasn’t the end of the conversation, I knew that. He wouldn’t let it go that easily.
I busied myself making tea, relieved to focus on such a mundane task amid all this upheaval. When I was finished, I handed one of the steaming mugs to Ryker, even though he wasn’t the type to sip a soothing cup of chamomile tea before bed. He probably chugged half a bottle of whiskey to knock him out instead.
“I’m not being dumb,” I said softly.
“Never claimed you were.” The grit in Ryker’s voice was rough, tired.
“Noah would. In a heartbeat.”
Ryker accepted the tea, making sure his fingers didn’t brush against mine in the process. I hated that. The way he so carefully didn’t touch me. As if I was some leper and I would infect him if my skin came in contact with his.
“Then it’s a good thing he’s not here.”
For a brief moment, Ryker’s eyes flicked up and met mine. One look—barely more than two seconds—and my heart somersaulted against my ribs. I desperately tried to date othermen, distracting myself from this stupid crush that had tortured me for years.
Those damn feelings were still there though.
I cleared my throat, studying the depths of my tea.
“So, should I talk to the police tomorrow?” I asked.
Ryker grunted and lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.
“Wouldn’t do any good. They’re useless when it comes to shit like this. Especially since no one has outright threatened you. Are you going to tell Noah?”
