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“She stays with me,” Ryder said. “She doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“Is that a problem for us to discuss…things?”
“She won’t hear a word. Will you, Cass?”
She shook her head without looking up.
“That’s my good girl. Now lie down so we can talk. Facedown.”
Her face burned again, but she did what he said. The only way to do it was across his feet. It was even more humiliating, but at least she couldn’t see anything at all.
“All right, then.” Arlo settled back. “Talk to me about what you’re looking for, work-wise.”
“Whatever you’ve got,” Ryder said. “I told you, I’m flexible.”
“The core business is solid. Transport, distribution, route security. Standard work for a man with your background.” She knew Arlo was taking a sip of his drink by the clinking of ice in his glass. “But the growth side is where things get interesting.”
“The new endeavors you were talking about yesterday.”
“Right.” Arlo lowered his voice. “It’s a different kind of market. Premium. The product is…delicate.”
Delicate. Her stomach clenched. She knew what he was talking about. It had to be the children.
“Delicate, how?” Ryder asked. Just the right amount of curiosity.
“The clients for this product are particular. Very specific about what they want. This isn’t bulk. Every delivery is individual. Matched.” Arlo’s voice remained friendly, like he was talking about legitimate business. “It requires a certain kind of care. Not everyone has the stomach for it.”
She pressed her nails deeper into her palms and thought about the computer down the hall with the data that would burn this man’s entire operation to the ground.
“And you think I have the stomach for whatever product it is you’re talking about.” She didn’t know how Ryder kept his voice neutral.
“I think you’re not the kind of person who asks a lot of unnecessary questions.” Arlo smiled. “That’s a valuable quality in this line of work.”
From the far chair, Heath spoke for the first time. “He’s been here three days, Arlo.”
“I’m not handing him the keys. I’m having a conversation. We talked about this, Heath. If we’re expanding, we’ve got to get somebody with brains and experience in leadership. We need to be ready. More and more, I think Ryder is the man for the job.”
“Oh yeah? And why the fuck is that?” Heath asked.
“Because we know him. We know what he’s capable of.”
“We knew him. That’s different.”
“Come on, brother, we’ve got all the proof we need. Someone who keeps a pet the way he does obviously is the man for what we’re doing.”
Chapter 18
The pet comment burned like acid in Ryder’s gut.
Arlo wasn’t trying to be cruel. That was the worst part. He was paying Ryder a compliment. Looking at the way Ryder had positioned Cassandra—kneeling, silent, facedown across his feet—and seeing proof of qualification.
A man who could do that to a woman could do it to other kinds of product. The logic was clean and simple, and it made Ryder want to put his fist through Arlo’s generous, smiling face.
Because Arlo wasn’t wrong.
The commands had come too easily to Ryder. Every word, every gesture, every piece of the cover had arrived without much effort. He hadn’t struggled to find the right tone or fake the authority. The authority was just there, the way it had always been there, and Cassandra had responded to it because it was real enough to work.
And now these men were using that as proof that Ryder could manage stolen children. Same skill set. Same wiring. Same man. And it wasn’t far from the truth.
