CHAPTER 6
“Are you sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a hotel room?”
Demma shook her head and looked around Ryker’s small apartment. “This is fine. Unless you don’t want me here.”
Ryker closed and locked the door before turning to meet her gaze. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want you.” He paused, and the words tumbled out. “Here; I mean if I didn’t want you here.” He turned away and fiddled with the lock on the door. When he looked at her, she could see the faint tinge of pink on his cheeks. She pretended to ignore it.
He motioned toward a huge sofa facing a wall that contained nothing except a crazy large screen television. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink? I don’t have any wine, but I’m pretty sure there’s soda, juice and maybe even a beer or two.”
“I’m good, Ryker. Thanks.”
She slipped out of the denim jacket she had grabbed on the way out after the police left. He took it from her and hung it up in the closet by the door. She smiled at the domestic gesture. “Military discipline coming out?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, some habits never break. A place for everything.”
“And everything in its place.” She finished as she dropped gracefully on the edge of the oversized brown sofa and looked around. The room was mostly bare, with a single small side table joining the sofa and television. The hardwood floor was bare, and only a single remote control marred the pristine tabletop. It suited Ryker’s personality perfectly. His home was unencumbered and functional.
Ryker pressed the remote control into her hands. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go change out the sheets.” He picked up the small bag of clothes she had packed. “I’ll take this to the bathroom. It’s the first door on the left. In case, you want to take a shower or a bath. There are clean towels on the shelf next to the tub.”
He turned, and she stopped him with a word.
“Ryker.”
“Yeah?”
She placed the remote on the table, stood and took a few steps toward him. Giving him a wan smile, she blinked several times. “Thank you. Thank you for everything you are doing. I know this goes beyond what your contract stipulates. I was going to go to my friend, Monty’s place, but he’s got company. And...” she hesitated. “And I don’t feel secure with anyone other than you.”
It was true. The only time Demma felt safe since this whole thing had started was when she was with him. When she called Monty earlier, he had insisted she come over, but the second voice in the background made up her mind for her. She politely demurred. Ryker had offered to bring her to his home for the night, and she had jumped at the chance.
“You’re welcome, Demma. You can stay as long as you need.” He paused and frowned as if not believing what he had just said. “So, then, I’ll just get that bed changed.” He pivoted and strolled to the bedroom after dropping her bag off in the bathroom. She followed.
The bathroom was plain, painted white with a molded tub and shower unit, small sink vanity, white tile floor and a single light overhead. It was tiny but adequate. Demma glanced longingly at the tub, thinking how good it would be to soak, but it was already late, and she didn’t want to cause Ryker more disruption. Instead, she closed the door and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Tonight, she had substituted her normal blonde wig for a short bob of midnight black. She removed it and dropped it onto the vanity, staring at it. In a way, it perfectly represented how she felt. So far removed from who and what she was. Her fingers ran through the strands, and she sighed. “Layers and lies, fake upon falsehood,” she murmured. Raising her face, she searched for the person she had once been. Her own eyes looked out at her. She left the blue contacts at home. It was the first time she had, except for the time when she’d gotten an eye infection. “Who are you?” she murmured to her reflection. There was little of the girl she had once been. This woman was a stranger even in her familiarity. She turned away.
Thirty minutes later, clad in her favorite pajamas she scrutinized herself once again. The same face stared out at her. Again, a feeling of disjointed unfamiliarity struck her. She had pulled her dark brown hair back and secured it low on her head with an elastic band. It was the only way she could wear her natural hair and cover the burns on her head. Her eyes were still drawn, and the dark circles underneath were more prominent without the thick concealing makeup she normally wore. She looked like shit, but she approved of this version more. At least, this one was real.
Exiting the bathroom, she was surprised to see a bed made up on the sofa with pillows and a blanket. She frowned. “Ryker?” she called out.
“In here,” came the reply from behind her.
She moved past the bathroom to a doorway on the right. Glancing in, she saw Ryker sitting at a desk with a sketchpad in his hands. The sight surprised her. She didn’t know Ryker drew. Instead of interrupting him, she watched him for a few minutes as his fingers flew over the page. Every once in a while, he would tip his head to the side and wrinkle his brow to study the paper. His face was washed in the soft light of his monitors as he worked on the drawing. She folded her arms over her chest and leaned against the doorframe. When he chewed on his bottom lip, she chuckled. He looked serious.
The sound caused him to whip his head up, then he immediately relaxed. He smiled warmly. “Hey. Everything alright?”
She nodded and pushed away from the door. “Yeah.” Taking a few steps into the room, she stopped in front of his desk. Motioning toward the sketchpad, she teased, “A man of many levels. I didn’t know you drew.”
Ryker chuckled. “I dabble. It’s a stress reliever for me. Is everything alright?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, thanks.” Hesitating a moment, she motioned toward the hall with her head. “I saw the couch made up for bed. I thought you had a second bedroom.”
Ryker leaned back and closed the pad. Sliding it into the crack between desk and wall, he swept his hands wide. “This is the second bedroom. I use it as a computer room.” He opened the middle drawer of his desk and dropped a handful of pencils inside.
Demma’s brow drew into a frown. “I didn’t know. I don’t want to run you out of your bed. I’ll take the couch.” She started out of the room.
He stood and hurried around the desk. Taking Demma’s elbow in his hand, he stopped her. “No. I’ll sleep on the sofa. I end up on it half the time anyway. I’m used to it.” When she started to shake her head, he cupped her cheek with his hand. It was warm, and the gentle pressure soothed her rattled nerves. “Demma, it’s no inconvenience, I swear. I’m still a little keyed up, so I’ll watch TV for a while. You need some rest. Go on, I swear, it’s a nice comfortable bed, and you’ll sleep well. Promise.”
She capitulated with a huff. “Alright.” It was one more thing she owed Ryker. When she had called him tonight, she didn’t expect to end up in his home or his bed. She closed her eyes and nuzzled against the tender warmth of his palm before opening them again and reluctantly pulling away. Her stomach clenched as she turned. She didn’t want to leave him, not even long enough to get some much-needed rest. He was fast becoming her rock, and she was relying on him more and more every day.
“Demma?”
Her name on his lips caused her to stop and glance over her shoulder. “Yes?”
He raked his hand through his hair, exposing the injured side of his head. Demma saw his face morph through a dozen emotions. He took a step forward, and she thought he was going to take her in his arms again. Instead, he let his hands drop. “I...” He blew out a breath and shrugged. Whatever he was going to say was discarded. “Good night,” he finished lamely. “If you need me, just call out. I sleep light.”
Her heart fell. She could tell that wasn’t what he wanted to say, but she let it drop. Instead, she gave him a weak smile. “Alright. Good night Ryker.”
She padded across the hall to his bedroom. The sound of the door closing was loud in the bare apartment; an apartment that was as empty as her soul felt.