Page 20 of Ryder’s Storm

“Well, what if she doesn’t feel the same for me as I feel for her? What if my mate rejects me for whatever reason? Does that mean I’ll never find another one to share my life with?”

Gabriel put his hand on Ryder’s shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself with thoughts like that.”

“Please answer the question, Dad. Will I be alone if it doesn’t work out with her?”

Gabriel sighed. “No, you won’t. You can always find somebody else who will love you, and whom you’ll love back, because in the end, even mates meant for one another have free will. But before you give up, know this: only a union with your intended mate will truly fulfill you. If you take another woman as your wife, you’ll always feel that something is missing from your life.”

Slowly Ryder nodded. “Thank you, Dad. Thanks for being honest.”

He had to make this work with Scarlet, which meant he had to spend more time with her to figure out what he had to do for her to accept him.

“Anytime, son.”

“I should get showered and dressed. It’s been a trying day. My new charge is difficult.”

Gabriel furrowed his forehead. “Don’t tell me Grayson was right about her. That would be a first.”

“Occasionally he’s on the money, though I don’t agree with him on everything. Scarlet is headstrong and cunning. But don’t worry, I’ll watch her like a hawk. That’s what her father pays us for.”

Ryder hated deceiving his father, but right now he had no choice. Knowing how many rules his own father had broken to woo his mate, Ryder was confident that he would understand his actions when the truth came out—which it ultimately would. But the when was up in the air.

“I know you can do it. Scanguards can count on you always giving your best.”

He hoped that Scarlet would see it the same way. Over time, he’d wear down her resistance. He just needed to keep a cool head, and use his charm to make Scarlet see that they were good together, and that their night together hadn’t been a mistake but the beginning of something special.

11

Tired from working on her thesis all afternoon and evening, Scarlet shut down her computer. She’d taken only a short dinner break—Thai food delivered by a restaurant only three blocks away. Just after finishing her dinner in the kitchen, while Ryder had remained in the living room reading, she’d overheard him talking to Benjamin on the phone, asking him to relieve him for the night.

From her bedroom on the second floor, she’d watched him leave a minute after Benjamin parked his black Porsche on the other side of the street. She’d seen them exchange a few words, and Scarlet wondered what kind of gossip the two had shared. She shuddered at the thought that Ryder had told Benjamin—and maybe some of his other friends and colleagues too—that he’d fucked her in a storage room the previous night.

She’d done everything to distract herself from the memories of her sexual encounter with Ryder, but even going over her paper for the umpteenth time hadn’t stopped the images from invading her thoughts. She felt heat build up inside her and knew she had to do something to avert the feverish episode she felt coming on.

She took a shower, careful not to get her hair wet, and the cold water helped cool her down. After drying off, she slipped into her bathrobe, and brushed her teeth. It was time for bed. Tomorrow, she had an important meeting with her professor regarding the progress she was making toward her doctorate in psychology. She felt confident that she was on track. At least one thing in her life seemed to go her way.

Scarlet switched on her bedside lamp and pulled back the duvet cover. Beneath it, she kept her pajamas, a pink ensemble of a pair of loose-fitting shorts and a light, sleeveless top. But before she could put it on, she heard a sound from downstairs.

Scarlet stilled, listening intently. Had Benjamin entered the house to use the bathroom? Scarlet walked to the window that overlooked the street, pulled the curtains apart a little and looked outside.

Benjamin’s black Porsche was gone. She knew he wouldn’t leave unless somebody else was taking over for him. She looked for her cell phone. It should be on her nightstand, but it wasn’t there. Damn it, where had she left it? She quickly walked into her ensuite bathroom and flipped on the light. But it wasn’t there either. Then she remembered. The battery had been low, and she’d plugged it into an outlet in the kitchen while she’d eaten her dinner. She had forgotten to bring it with her when she’d returned to her room to continue working.

Her heartbeat accelerated. After her half-brother, Joshua, had died in a shooting at a nightclub several years earlier when he’d been only twenty-four, her father had become overprotective of her. The man suspected of killing her brother and wounding several other nightclub patrons, had been found dead the next day. Her father still suspected that the murderer was a contract killer, and that one of his enemies was behind it. But no proof of that theory was ever found.

What if her father was right after all? What if somebody was trying to kill her too? Perhaps somebody had killed her bodyguard and driven the body away in his Porsche, then returned to the house to finish her off? She had to do something. But what? The smartest thing was to call 9-1-1. Yes, that’s what she had to do. But the only phones in the house were on the first floor: a landline nobody ever used was located in the living room, and her own cell phone was in the kitchen. Neither would be easy to get to.

Another sound from downstairs made her heart jump into her throat. Shit! She’d watched enough horror movies to know how this could end. If only she had something to defend herself with. Maybe something to knock the intruder over the head with.

Scarlet glanced around her room, but there was nothing suitable. She wasn’t going to use her laptop, no, that was out of the question. Plus it was too bulky anyway. She needed something she could hold in one hand.

Frantically, she let her gaze roam, when her eyes fell on the open bathroom door. She rushed toward it, glad that she was barefoot, and the lush rug underneath her feet swallowed the sound of her footfalls.

In the bathroom, she opened the cabinet below the sink and pulled out her hairdryer. It would have to do. She put her hand around the thick shaft and turned off the lights again. She did the same in her bedroom, not wanting any light to warn the intruder that she was on to him. With light feet she walked to the door and turned the knob very gently. She eased the door open, when she heard a floorboard creak farther down the hall.

Scarlet held her breath. It appeared that the intruder was already on the second floor. But if she was quick and quiet, she could make it to the stairs without him noticing her. And once arrived at the bottom of the stairs, she could run out onto the street and flag down a car before he could catch up with her. If he caught her in the house, she would try to hit him over the head with the hairdryer or throttle him with the electric cord if need be.

Scarlet collected all her courage and slipped out of her room. The second-floor hallway was dark. She stalked along the wall in the direction of the stairs. She spotted a faint light coming from downstairs as if the intruder had switched on the light in the downstairs foyer. Or had Ryder left it on when he’d left earlier in the evening?

At the other end of the hallway, where the master bedroom and two more bedrooms were located, she heard the sound of a door, but she couldn’t tell whether it was being opened or closed. She knew it then: the intruder was looking for her, checking all the rooms until he found hers. Her window of escaping was narrowing. But she only needed to bridge a distance of a few more feet until she would reach the top of the stairs.