~ Ryder ~
Staring up at his father, Ryder asked, “She sent him a what?”
“A cease and desist request written in crayons on a gigantic sheet of paper.”
Trying his best to wrap his mind around what his father was saying, Ryder mumbled mindlessly, “Crayons? I came all the way here because you said she was in danger, and now you are telling me she’s sending him gigantic notes written in crayons.”
“I shit you not, son. It was written in several shades of purple. I don’t know what that was all about, but the dude freaked the fuck out, right there standing in the street. A messenger cycled right up and handed him a tube. He signed for it and opened it up real eager like. I could read it from twenty paces away.”
“I think between him and us, we’ve pushed her right over the edge,” Ryder commented.
“Maybe, but he was hot under the collar. He took it to the police, and they pretty much told him to fuck right off. Since it was little more than a note asking him to stop trying to contact her, they couldn’t do a thing.”
Ryder’s brows furrowed. “It seems really weird to me. You’re sure her mom hasn’t seen her?”
“Like I told you on the phone, son, my gut tells me she’s here, but none of us has seen her. We’ve had her mother’s home staked out since we arrived. She even brings Hickory out baked goods and coffee. Trust me, if she had anything to hide, we would definitely know about it.”
Pacing back and forth in the spacious hotel room, Ryder obsessed about where his old lady could be. “What in God’s name possessed her to come here? The dude’s a total nutjob. She’s not safe here.”
“Maybe she got tired of running and figures her only shot at having a life with you is seeing this through,” his dad offered.
“I hope the fuck not,” Ryder said through clenched teeth. “Being with me is not worth facing off with a lunatic.”
“I’m not sure what she’s doing, but the man’s been looking progressively more fucked-up over the last week or so.”
“It’s all fun and games until someone gets poked in the eye.” Ryder realized he was screeching, but he didn’t give a good goddamn.
Ven’s stern voice filled the air. “Calm the fuck down. She’s a grown-ass woman now, not the scared little twenty-one-year-old that ran all those years ago. Maybe knowing you helped her come into her own somehow.”
“Then why not contact us?” he questioned. “Her mother admitted to telling her we were here. She should know better than to go it alone with this nasty fucker.”
“Should she? It looks like she’s doing a good job of taking care of this her own way. Why don’t you give her a chance, and we’ll be here to back her up if things get dangerous?”
Shoving his fingers through his hair, Ryder sank down into an armchair. “I think that I have no choice on this one. What’s her mother like?”
“Sweetest lady you’d ever want to meet,” he said with an obvious smile in his voice. “She wants to see you.”
“I don’t know how I feel about that. It seems wrong to visit Tiffany’s mom without her approval. She left me, and that would make it seem like I’m forcing my way back in.”
Looking for all the world like a father who would like to smack his son in the back of the head, Ven replied seriously, “Yeah, except there’s that whole part about her inviting you. I would think that your old lady might get offended that you turned down her mother’s very sincere invitation to dine with her.”
Mulling it over, Ryder replied tersely, “Fine, tell her I’ll come.”
“I already did. You’re bringing dessert.”
Swearing under his breath, Ryder jumped to his feet. “What about my goddamn old lady being missing is hard for you old folks to grasp? Our attention should be on finding her and making sure she’s safe, not paying social calls on each other.”
Giving his son’s shoulder a quick squeeze, Ven dropped the bomb he knew would seal the deal. “She alluded to the fact that she might have intel on Stuart Chamberlain. It seems her husband was gathering info on the crazy fucker before he kicked the bucket.”
Ryder felt a surge of adrenaline pump though his body. Some dirt on Tiffany’s stalking ex was exactly what he needed most right now. “Let Mrs. Stone know I’d be happy to accept her kind invitation.”
Ven grinned. “You can be downright gracious when you need to be, son. I thought you’d see it my way. Her last name isn’t Stone. It’s Donovan. Mom says Stone is an alias her father came up with to keep her safe.”
“Her old man sounds like a smart fucker. I want my old lady back, and I don’t care what old lady’s shoes I have to lick to make that happen.”
“That’s a visual that’ll stick with me. Get yourself a shower and put on something nice. I’ll pick up a dessert of some sort and swing back around to pick you up.”
Curling his lip without meaning to, Ryder thought about climbing back into the cramped pickup that brought him here. “I hate riding in a cage.”
Ven barked, “No bikes or colors here. It draws the wrong kind of attention, son. Pretend you’re a chameleon and try to blend in with the local color.”
“That’s easier said than done, old man.”
Stalking to the shower, Ryder tore off his clothing and stepped under the hot cascade of water. Imagining his old lady huddled under a bridge somewhere or sleeping in her cold SUV tore a gigantic hole in his heart. Never having been in love, Ryder was finding their first separation to be rife with worry. The loneliness was so profound that it was hard to find words to describe the pain their separation wrought on him.
Pressing both hands to the wall, Ryder closed his eyes and remembered how she smelled. Images came to mind of her smiling at him, teasing him, and laughing at his jokes. God, how he missed her laugh.
His body was a twisted mess. His chest hurt, his dick throbbed at the remembrance of her soft, warm body rubbing against his, and he just couldn’t find it in this heart to jack off. It was frustrating as hell. He was tempted to nail the stupid bastard and let them throw him in lockup. At least Tiffany would have a chance at a normal life. One of his club brothers would do right by her, of that he was certain.
Soaping up, he rinsed his tired body and stepped out to dry off. Minutes later, he was dressed and standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He shot the blow dryer though his messy hair just so he didn’t have to hear his old man bitch.
Switching it off, he slammed it on the empty counter. Finger-combing his hair, he tried to get ahold of his emotions. He was a goddamn mess. Staring at himself in the mirror, Ryder tried his best to see what Tiffany saw when she looked at him. His stringy brown hair had grown down almost to his collar. The brown eyes that she’d always said she liked were now listless and marred with dark circles underneath. He wasn’t anyone a woman would choose if they met him today, that’s for damn sure.
He’d been working night and day for weeks, first on solving the issues related to his club president being shot, and then on finding his nurse. The scruff of beard made him appear unkempt, but he just couldn’t find it in his heart to give a shit.
Closing his eyes, he decided to shave because he was going to meet her mother. He didn’t want the woman to think badly of her daughter for being with him. Reaching into his grooming satchel, he pulled out his cordless razor. It had just about enough charge to get the job done.
Slamming the razor back into his bag once he was done, Ryder scrubbed his hands over his smooth face. He could feel himself slowly becoming unhinged. Very soon, his beautiful little nurse was going to have two crazy men to contend with. The woman deserved so much better than the cards she’d been dealt in life.
A gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts. “You ready, son?”
Nodding, he turned to face his father. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Following his father out to their vehicle, he climbed into the passenger’s seat. His father must have sensed how close to the edge he was because he didn’t speak during the ride, electing instead to play vintage rock. That suited Ryder just fine.
They pulled up within fifteen minutes at a charming two-story colonial in a nice neighborhood.
Ryder immediately began to do a compare and contrast in his mind. His own home was easily as nice as the one Tiffany grew up in. Feeling something loosen in his chest, he sucked in a much-needed breath of the cool night air.
Ven shoved something into his hands. Looking down, Ryder discovered it was a huge cake of some sort. “Could this night get any weirder?”
“Don’t be a dick,” his father scolded. “It’s not like you never brought dessert to someone’s home before.”
“Fuck you, old man. I usually am the desert when I go to a woman’s house.”
Frowning, his father shook his head. “Sometimes, I think your brain is broken. Get the hell up to the door before I decide to leave you in the car.”
“Sorry, I was just joking.”
Taking the lead, Ven complained, “No, you weren’t joking. Jokes are funny, but that was just some egocentric bullshit. Mind your manners around your woman’s mother, ‘cause she ain’t never seen a demon spawn like you before.”
Cracking a smile, Ryder shot back, “You’re damaging my self-esteem. You know that, right?”
“You are the most arrogant little snot I ever met, so I know that ain’t true.” Ringing the doorbell, Ven seemed surprised when Hickory answered.
“Come on in. Sarah’s finishing up dinner.”
Ryder inhaled, and suddenly he was starving. Stepping over the threshold, he murmured, “It smells delicious. Where should I put the cake?”
Hickory couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “Follow me. We got a little surprise for you.”
“The normal response to that statement among the brothers is I hope it’s a stripper, only I ain’t interested in stripers no more.”
A soft, feminine voice said, “I’m glad to hear it. How about errant girlfriends? You got any interest in those?”
Ryder almost dropped the cake as his eyes shot around the kitchen looking for her. He’d recognize the voice of his favorite nurse anywhere. The second he spotted her, someone jerked the cake out of his hands, and he was moving across the room.
Tiffany looked even better than he remembered. She eagerly met him halfway. The next thing Ryder knew, they were in each other’s arms, and she was pulling him close and kissing him back.
He didn’t know how long they were at it, but his father’s embarrassed voice interrupted their moment. “You’ll have to excuse my son, Sarah. His mother and I did our best, but none of the good manners seemed to stick.”
Ryder pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against Tiffany’s. “Do you hear that? My old man thinks I have no manners. Whatcha think of that, baby girl?”
Refusing to remove her arms from around his waist, she murmured, “I think when two people are broken in opposite ways, it makes them perfect for each other. Come, let me introduce you to my mother.” Turning, she grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.
Looking up at the older woman for the first time, Ryder realized she was almost a slightly older copy of his old lady. Without thinking, he mumbled, “Wow, you two could be sisters.”
Laughing, the older woman stepped forward. “You were right, dear. He’s a keeper.”
Reaching out, Ryder gave her a gentle hug and a kiss on the top of the head. “It’s real nice to meet you, Mrs. Donovan. Thanks for inviting us to your nice home.”
“It’s the least I could do since you’ve been taking such good care of my daughter.”
“Well now, that was my pleasure, ma’am. Your daughter is a fine lady, and I’m honored that she chose to spend time with me.”
“I understand that beef roast is one of your favorite dinners?” she asked him.
He covered his growling stomach with a hand. “I’ll eat anything that doesn’t eat me first, but I’m real partial to a nice roast.”
“Well, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried mine,” Sarah said confidently. “Have a seat in the dining room, and it’ll be ready in a bit.”
Tiffany led him into the next room. Ryder grabbed a seat and pulled her into his lap. “I missed you, baby. Thanks for letting me back in.”
“Sorry I panicked like I did,” she apologized, her expression tight. “It took me a few days to get my head straight about the club, whores, and my ex.”
“We can talk about all that after we solve the Stuart problem. I hear you’ve been giving him a run for his money.”
Her face lit up. “About that. Messing with that man is proving to be much easier than I thought.”
“Did you really write him a gigantic note in purple crayon? My old man said he freaked the fuck out.”
She grinned. “When we were in grade school, he used to trade all the crayons in his box for different shades of purple. He’s weird in a lot of ways. In the note, I reversed everything he ever demanded of me. I told him that he was to stop looking at me as his property, trying to find me when I leave town, calling me, e-mailing me, sending me gifts, and about a dozen other things. The purple crayon was a reminder of how the other kids used to tease him. I guess my little reminder must have hit the mark.”
“Oh yeah, he took the stupid thing to the police, and they basically laughed in his face.”
“Good, because when they find him trying to contact me, they’re gonna know the extremes I went to in order to get him to stop.”
“That’s real smart, baby girl. What other stuff have you been doing to him?”
“Anything I can think of,” she said with a lift of her chin. “Let’s see, I sent him a picture of a gingerbread boy with a message written on the back. He would have had to put it together to read about how I’m finished running from him.”
“That was bold,” Ryder said approvingly.
“I sent him an envelope of gingerbread men with all the heads cut off just for funsies,” she continued. “I sold his mail, steamed open all his letters, and wrote I’m not running across the front of all the pages. Then I glued them shut again and shoved them in his box.”
“Shit, woman, you aren’t taking any prisoners.” Ryder had to admit, he was impressed.
“I mailed a dog chain to his office with a picture of a man wearing it, too. Then I paid some neighborhood kid to drop cut-out pictures of birds all over his front porch, you know, to remind him about the dead birds his crazy security guy left on our porch. Then I picked up a bunch of stray cats and leashed them all the way down his front fence along with a poster proclaiming crazy cat lover willing to part with beloved pets.
“I sat in a tree across the street eating an apple while about a hundred people beat his door down complaining that he had them in the cold and what a horrible person he was for tying up animals that way.”
“Jesus, Tiffany.”
“Don’t worry, baby,” she said, reaching out to cover his thigh with her warm, soft hand. “I called a no-kill shelter and had them all picked up. They’re safe and sound.”
“I meant, you’re pushing the crazy fucker too far,” he reprimanded lightly.
“Maybe the crazy fucker needs to be pushed.”
Tiffany and Ryder swiveled their heads around at the same time to find her mother standing there with a pot roast.
“I mean it,” Sarah said as she entered the room. “Sometimes fuckers need to be taught a lesson.”
Tiffany pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “Well, Mom, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you drop an F-bomb. You say the word like it’s part of a foreign language or something.”
She set a large platter on the table before speaking. “To be quite honest, I just felt like trying something new. Not sure how I feel about it, but the fact remains that Mr. Chamberlain does need to be taught a lesson. Tell him about the other day with the water guns, Tiff. That was really funny.”
Ryder cursed under his breath. “When in the hell do you have time to sleep, princess?”
Grinning, Tiffany scooted her chair closer. “I picked up a case of super soakers from the local warehouse club and handed them out to all the kids in the neighborhood. Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. “They were a really good deal because it was the end of the season. Anyway, every year we have a block party for the kids. I sent Stuart a specially engraved invitation.”
“Let me guess, when he showed up, they swarmed him,” Ryder deadpanned.
Nodding, he could tell that she was trying not to smile. “He such a pompous jerk, I didn’t even have to encourage them much. Even the high school bullies got a piece of the action.”
Ryder covered her hand with his. “I don’t even feel sorry that you’re turning the table on the stupid fucker.”
“Me either.”
Glancing up at Mrs. Donovan, Ryder realized she’d filled the table with food. His father and Hickory slid into empty seats after Hickory held out Sarah’s chair like the gentleman Ryder knew he wasn’t. Shooting the man a dirty look, Ryder decided they were going to go a round or two if he tried anything with Tiffany’s grieving mother.
“Mister Hickory, would you carve the roast?” Sarah requested sweetly.
“I’d be happy to, ma’am.”
Shoveling food into his mouth like a starving man, Ryder didn’t realize how hungry he actually was. He vaguely realized that Tiffany was slipping food onto his plate. Barely looking up, he mused out loud, “I’m worried the stupid fucker is going to pop. I don’t want you alone where he can get to you.”
“Here, have another corn muffin.” Tiffany dropped one on his plate. “I’ve got three plans for how to handle him when the time comes.”
Tossing her a lopsided smile, he stated sternly, “Stop trying to distract me with your mother’s fantastic home cooking. That ain’t a nice thing to do to a starving man.”
She dazzled him with a million-megawatt smile. “You caught me out on that one. If it’s any consolation, you’re nowhere near as easy to get one over on as Stuart, babe.”
“You know something, Tiff? I love that you’re coming into your own on this whole Stuart thing, but these kinds of situations never go down quite like we think they should when we’re face-to-face with someone. Especially not an unbalanced psychopath like your ex. I want you to stay in lockstep with me on this one. Understood?”
She lifted her eyebrows but didn’t try to argue. Openly, anyway. “Yes, sir, I surely do. So, are you ready for that fantastic cake your father picked out for us?”
“Sure thing, Tiff. As a matter of fact, I’ll help you fetch it from the kitchen.”
Her mother sighed. “For crying out loud, Tiffany, just take the man upstairs and spend some time talking this thing out. You’re both on opposite sides of the page right now, and it’s making me nervous.”
Tiffany scowled, dropping the sweet act. “Fine, but we don’t do much talking in the bedroom.”
Ryder stammered, “That’s not true.” Gaping at her mother, he tried to look innocent. “I promise, it’s not.”
The woman rolled her eyes as Ven and Hickory tried not to laugh.