“Do you really think I’ll punch you hard enough to hurt?” Amusement laces his tone, even as he feigns to the right, countering the move with a kick designed to sweep my legs out from under me.
I easily dance out of the way.
“I can’t learn if you won’t teach me,” I point out, trying not to sound as frustrated as I feel. How am I supposed to learn totake on The Divine One and POP if the guys constantly treat me with kid gloves? Even Raymond refuses to fight full-out with me, afraid he’ll accidentally hurt me.
But POP won’t hold back.
They never do.
And since I’m not allowed to meet with my personal trainer anymore…this is the only option I have.
Ryker’s smile falters before being wiped away completely, replaced by his customary scowl. He stops fighting and crosses his arms over his chest. One foot taps impatiently against the hardwood floor.
“You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” Ryker tells me, his tone brisk.
I move toward where I discarded my water bottle, in the far corner of the room. I think it’s supposed to be a ballroom, though it’s only partially completed. One side of the vaulted ceiling is adorned with ornate plasterwork—swirling floral motifs and gold-leaf accents—but abruptly, the ornamentation gives way to exposed wooden beams and dangling wires. Scaffolding clings to the far wall like skeletal ribs. The marble floor is a patchwork. Polished, gleaming tiles merge with raw concrete, dusty and scattered with buckets, palettes, and rolls of blueprints. This grand room is like everything else at Hotel Hell, as we’ve taken to calling it behind Raymond’s back.
A mockery of what it could be.
And isn’t that what we all are? A mockery? Chasing after a threat we know we can’t catch? It’s why the FBI hasn’t made any arrests, why we’re still in hiding, why Ryker and Landon both had to fake their deaths.
“Ellie, are you fucking listening to me?” Ryker’s angry words cut through my thoughts like a fin in water.
And instantly, I’m pissed.
Really fucking pissed.
“What did you just say to me?” I whirl on him, my chest heaving, a heated flush crawling up my spine and seeping into my cheeks. Rage prickles the back of my neck, anticipation racing along after it. I step closer to Ryker until I’m not just encroaching his personal space but dominating it. I have to notch my chin up to see him better, his features cast in shadow from the hood slung over his head. “Ryker.”
“You’re angry and pissed at the world. I get that. I do. But you’re taking that anger out on everyone around you. And, worse than that, you’re taking it out on yourself.” With an almost blistering speed, he reaches for my wrists, capturing one in each hand. He holds them above my head, forcing me to strain slightly.
It doesn’t hurt, though. If anything, energy fires up my spine in a series of intermittent lightning strikes.
“I’m training,” I snap at him through clenched teeth.
“That’s all you’re doing,” he retorts, and his long lashes resemble strokes of black ink. I don’t know why that’s what I focus on, but suddenly, they’re all I can see. Then, in a gentler voice, he rasps out, “Baby girl…”
Some of the anger drains from me at his despondent expression, and I feel myself sag, the only thing keeping me upright his hands around my wrists, iron shackles that tether me to reality.
“I know you’re worried about me,” I whisper, my gaze flicking across his face, noting the minute white scar bisecting his bottom lip. The stubble on his jaw. The scowl on his face contrasting with the molten heat in his blue eyes. “I just…”
“You don’t have to explain yourself.” He takes a step closer, still holding my arms above my head, though he transfers them to one hand. His other moves to rest on my waist, where my shirt has risen up. His pinkie finger brushes against my sensitive skin, eliciting a fresh round of goose bumps.
“I killed someone,” I say through numb lips, those three words settling like a lead weight in my chest. It’s the first time I ever confessed that truth out loud. “This isn’t even the first time I’ve done it.” Patricia’s face pops to the forefront of my mind—a face I long to forget but know I never will. Sometimes, I can still hear her neck cracking; that noise will haunt me for the rest of my life. “And Landon?—”
“Is healing. Going stir-crazy.” He continues his slow ministration, his pinkie like fire on my skin, his mere touch blotting out the rest of the world. “Worried about you.”
“I’m…” I was going to tag on the word “fine,” but we both know that’s not the truth. It hasn’t been for a while.
“You’re drowning, baby.” He leans forward until he can rest his forehead against my own, his breath fanning across my face. “You’re drowning, but we’re here. We can help you stay afloat. Just let us in. Stop pushing us away.”
My heart thunders in my chest, oxygen wheezing out of my lungs.
“We?” I say, my voice barely a breath of air.
Out of all the guys, Ryker is the one who is most adamant against sharing me. Not that I can blame him. I would go insane if I had to see the guys with other girls, though I understand that’s the fair compromise.
Indecision flashes in his eyes and remains there, even as he crowds me with his body.
