Ryder
AN HOUR LATER, Ryder chucked his keys on his desk and slammed his office door. “Damn it!” He’d royally screwed things up with Sadie and didn’t know how to fix them. Talk about worst timing ever. If he could just find his sister, he could go about his life and figure out how to put the pieces of his shattered family back together.
“Ryder!” Bennie called as he knocked on Ryder’s door. “Cameron Shane’s here.”
“Send him back, would ya?”
“Sure thing, boss.”
Another knock brought Cameron, and Ryder waved him in. “What did you find?”
“She was sold.”
“Shit!” Ryder slammed his fist against the wall, hissing in pain as his knuckles connected with brick. The pain felt right. It felt deserved.
“Damn it, Ryder,” Cameron snapped, and then yelled out the door, “Someone grab ice!”
“Who?” Ryder rasped, before bellowing, “WHO?”
“Russian mob.”
“No, no, no, no, no!” Ryder chanted. “Shit!”
“Hatch?”
Ryder shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. There might be a loose connection. I wouldn’t put it past dear old dad.”
“Look, we know who they are, at least who has Scottie currently,” Cameron said. “We brought down a trafficking ring a few years ago. The Azhishchenkov’s were head of that, and it’s highly likely they’re part of this somehow. We’ve got people in place. Scottie’s in Savannah, we’re just not sure where. Dalton Moore’s got connections there, so he’s gonna check it out.”
“Your FBI contact?”
“Yeah.”
“What the hell happened?” Sandra cried out as she rushed into the office with ice. “Honey, what did you do?”
Sandra Walker had been Ryder’s bookkeeper and office manager ever since he opened the bar six years ago. A woman in her mid-fifties, she had teased, platinum-blonde hair, and piercings in her nose and lip, along with full sleeves of tattoos (and others she offered to show him on more than one occasion... he declined). She was a rough-talking, pack-a-day smoking, swear-like-a-sailor kind of woman, and Ryder adored her. But she was also a bit like a mother hen and had the tendency to peck him to death.
“It’s fine, Sandy. Thanks.”
“It’s not fine, Ryder. You may have broken your hand.” She gently laid the ice pack over his knuckles. “Let me wrap it for you.”
“It’s fine,” he pressed.
“Stubborn mule.” She jabbed a finger at him. “One hour, mister. I’m comin’ back and if your hand is bad, you’re gettin’ an X-ray.”
Ryder rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”
She huffed and pulled the door closed on the way out.
“You’re an idiot,” Cameron accused.
“Probably.” Ryder grimaced. “I want to go to Savannah.”
“Figured you’d say that. Got us flights tomorrow morning. First flight out.”
“Thanks, man.”
“But there’s another problem.”
Ryder scowled. “What?”
“Three girls have gone missing in the last three weeks.”
“Associated with Scottie?”
“Sort of,” Cameron hedged. “They were last seen here at the bar.”
“What the hell?” He shook his head. “No trace after that?”
“No.”
Ryder swore again and sat on the edge of his desk.
“FBI’s gonna be asking questions,” Cameron said. “I talked to Dalt and he’s gonna run it.”
“Well, that’s somethin’, I guess,” Ryder said. “How did you find out she was sold?”
“Scottie’s ex. We picked him up at a dive bar in Savannah, but he was of no help. He was so strung out, we could barely get his name out of him. From what we could make out, he sold her for a fix in Savannah, but that’s all he knows.”
Ryder swore again. “You still have that bastard locked up?”
“Yeah. We’re throwing every charge we can at him in order to keep him there, but I don’t know how much he’ll be able to help us with finding her.”
Ryder dragged his hand through his hair. “I had her home! She was getting past all this shit and then she runs off with him again. I don’t know what the hell I could have done differently!”
“We’ll figure it out.” Cameron crossed his arms. “Dalton’s meeting us in Savannah.”
“Priority is Scottie.”
“Yeah, man. Dalton’s got a sister. He gets it.”
Ryder nodded.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Cameron said.
Ryder gave him a chin lift and Cameron left his office. Ryder settled himself on the sofa and dropped his face into his hands. He was gutted. He had a slight idea what his sister might be going through and it was enough to drive him crazy. In the end, he had a few choice words with a God he wasn’t sure he believed in before getting back to work.
* * *
Sadie
Friday night arrived and I was giddy with excitement as I opened the door to let Laura and Bethany in.
“Are you ready to get your groove on?” Laura asked, hugging me.
I shrugged. “Is that a thing?”
“Hells, yeah it is,” Bethany said, hugging me as well. “And if there’s no groove, there will be alcohol, so that’ll give us groove.”
I giggled. “If you say so.”
“Your hair looks amazing,” Laura said with a grin.
I had pulled the sides back and tucked them under a piece of hair I’d teased and layered over the back. It gave me a little height and it was very Jennifer Love Hewitt ala Ghost Whisperer days. “Thank you.”
“Can you do mine?” she asked.
“Of course.” I raised an eyebrow, taking in her silky smooth bob. “But yours looks perfect. I’m not sure what I could improve on.”
“It’s so freakin’ flat right now. I hate the summer.”
I giggled. “Oh, I can give you a little volume. Piece of cake.”
“Makeup first,” Bethany ordered. “Then if we have time, we’ll fix your perfect hair. I hate you, Laura, you know that, right?”
She giggled. “I do. And since we’re not driving tonight, let’s drink. I brought wine.”
“Would you hate me if I didn’t?” I asked.
Laura cocked her head. “You know you’re allowed to, right?”
“Yes, it’s just I don’t particularly like it.”
“Oh, well, then our goal tonight is to find something you do like,” Bethany said.
“Works for me,” I said.
For the next hour, we did what I’d seen all girls do in the movies and on television while getting ready for a girls’ night out. We laughed, we critiqued, we told each other how beautiful we were, and then quickly told each other how much we hated each other because of how beautiful we were. It was a blast and it was perfect.
We were still giggling as we climbed into the backseat of our cab and headed to our first club destination in the Pearl. Pulling up outside the venue, we were early enough to grab a table and some food before the crush of the crowd arrived, and the dancing began.
“What can I get ya?” our scantily clad server asked.
“I’m going to have a Cosmo,” Laura said. “And so will my friend.”
“Cosmo?” I asked.
“You’ll love it, trust me.”
I rolled my eyes but managed to nod an affirmative to our waitress, and then Bethany ordered something called “Sex on the Beach,” and Laura ordered my food since I blushed so hard I had to hide my face.
As the night progressed, I discovered cosmos weren’t really my thing, but margaritas were. Holy moly, they were delicious, and I managed to finish two in less than an hour. Halfway through drink two, I looked up to find the room spinning, so Laura made me drink an entire glass of water, which helped settle me a little.
“Is this normal?” I asked.
Laura giggled. “At the rate you’re drinking, yes.”
“So you’re saying I should drink them slower?” I asked, taking another sip. This one was better than the last.
“Probably a good idea.”
“But they’re so good.”
“I know,” Laura said. “But the “drunk” will hit you like a brick, so you might want to slow down.”
“Better yet, lay off the booze for a bit, hon,” Bethany suggested. “You don’t want to puke.”
No, I certainly did not. And I really didn’t like the fact the room moved on its own.
“Ohmigod, I love this song,” Laura squeaked. “Let’s dance.”
Okay, so this is where things got a little hairy for me (well, hairier, because I was still feeling tipsy). I had never danced. Ever. Which was fine because I didn’t feel like I needed to put on a routine or anything, but since I wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about music, I couldn’t tell you the name of the song, let alone how to dance to it. I was flying blind as we hit the dance floor and I couldn’t “find the groove” as Laura suggested.
I was sure I looked like a total idiot, but then some guy grabbed my hips with a grin and yelled, “Just move with the music, beautiful.”
I was so shocked by the fact he’d grabbed me, I didn’t react immediately. When my brain finally kicked in that a stranger had his hands on me, I tried to pull away. He held me tighter and ground his pelvis against my bottom.
“It’s all good, gorgeous.”
“Please, let me go,” I yelled.
“Dude, she said let her go,” Bethany snapped.
“Shut the hell up.”
“You shut the hell up,” she bellowed, and shoved the guy.
“Bitch!”
“Hey, don’t call her a bitch,” Laura growled.
Before the man could react, he was dragged back by his collar and shoved to the ground. “The ladies don’t want to dance with you, which means you leave ’em alone.”
I frowned. “Reese?”
He grinned up at me. “Hey, Sadie.”
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Business. I’m just gonna take care of this guy,” he said, and dragged him out of the club without answering my question.
“Holy crap,” Bethany rasped. “Do you know him?”
“Sort of, I guess.” I shrugged. “He’s a friend of Ryder’s... or associate or something.”
“He’s smokin’ hot!” Laura said, as she took my arm and walked toward the table.
“I’m not sure what he’s doing here,” I said.
“Doesn’t Ryder own a bar?” Bethany asked.
I nodded.
Laura smiled. “Maybe this Reese guy works at a bunch of different places.”
“You could be right.” That was actually a possibility, so I nodded again. “Kind of a small world though, huh?”
As Bethany and Laura talked around me, my thoughts turned to Ryder. He hadn’t called me all week and, because I was feeling irritated by that, I didn’t call him, which meant I was missing him. My friends (and the alcohol) were helping me take my mind off him, but the second I saw Reese, that all changed.
A pair of snapping fingers appeared in front of my eyes and Laura said in a sing-song voice, “Earth to Sadie.”
“Huh? Sorry,” I said. “What did I miss?”
“I think a better question is what did we miss?” Bethany countered.
I sighed. “Nothing.”
Laura shook her head. “This has something to do with Ryder.”
“Why would it have something to do with Ryder?” I sipped my water in an effort to appear neutral.
Bethany gasped. “You like him!”
“What?”
“I want details.”
“There aren’t any,” I said.
“They went on a date on Tuesday and he hasn’t called her,” Laura said.
“Laura!” I snapped.
“What?” She shrugged. “We’re here for support. It’s why you have friends in the first place.”
Well, that was nice. I smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now, spill,” Bethany demanded.
* * *
Ryder
Anxious and sleep-deprived, Ryder paced the floor of his office, wondering what to do next. Savannah had been a bust. Scottie’s ex had been moved by some FBI hotshots who’d basically taken over the investigation and refused to tell Ryder anything. Cam had leaked him enough information to frustrate the hell out of him, but there was nothing else he could do. Ryder had returned to Portland late last night and had barely slept a wink since.
As happened a lot of late, his gaze landed on the photo of him and Scottie sitting on his desk. She’d just had her braces off, but even at sixteen, she looked so young. Reese (begrudgingly) had taken the picture at Scottie’s request and it was one of Ryder’s favorites.
“I’m gonna find you, baby girl. I promise,” he whispered, just as his phone rang. It was Reese. “Trouble?” Ryder asked.
Reese chuckled. “Define trouble.”
“Damn it! How bad?”
“Some asshat grinding up on her, but it’s cool. I dealt with him.”
Ryder ran a hand through his hair. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, man, she’s cool. A little tipsy, but cool. She and her ladies went back to the table.”
“How tipsy?”
“How stalkerish do you wanna be here, man, ’cause we’re kind of passing the border.”
Ryder pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did she see you?”
“Kinda hard not to when I’m draggin’ some douchebag away from her, but she didn’t see me until then, and won’t see me again... well, unless somethin’ like that happens again.”
“Okay. Thanks, man.”
“No problem.”
Reese hung up and Ryder slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Ryder!” Jake bellowed down the hall. “Need you out front.”
“Comin’.”
Ryder headed back to the bar and focused on pouring drinks and delivering food, all the while attempting not to fall asleep on his feet and to keep a smile on his face. It was almost impossible.