Chapter 21
Thorn
I sat at the coffee table in the small hotel room I’d rented near Ensley’s apartment. I could still see the disappointed look in her eyes when I told her that I was going to give her some privacy for the night. She looked disappointed, but she didn’t ask me to stay. Which was a good thing, because I would have agreed to that in a heartbeat.
The truth was that we both needed some time apart. I needed some time so that I could get to work on her case. While Ensley needed some time so she could wrap her brain around what was going on between us. To say that things were moving a little too fast for us, was an understatement. It was moving at lightning speed, and I didn’t want her making any decisions that she would later regret.
I had the file, which Brooks had put together on Ryan from the NYPD, scattered around me. I knew he was a good researcher, and he was working hard on trying to find out more, but I wanted to do some digging of my own. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to sleep tonight anyway, I had gotten used to having her around me all the time and even though I didn’t want to admit it-I was missing Ensley.
I was looking for any clues based on Ryan’s history in his file, about where he could possibly be at this point. If Brooks could hack into his bank account and find out more, that would be even better.
I’d also found Ryan’s social media account online, which I had already browsed through, but the medical report of Ensley’s bruises now had my full attention. I kept coming back to examine them, as much as I tried to focus on other things.
There were harsh mug-shot style photographs taken of Ensley. These were not details she had provided me with. Instead, this was what Brooks had dug out for me. All she had shown me, earlier in her apartment, was the medical report and the restraining order.
Now I had all the details in front of me, and I couldn’t take my eyes off the bruises. There were images of Ensley holding her arms up so that the cameraman could photograph the bruises on her arms. They were dark, finger-shaped bruises against her pale skin and the more I stared at them, the angrier I grew.
She had mentioned that he used to give her bruises just by grabbing her, but I hadn’t expected them to be this bad. There were dark circles under her eyes, her complexion was pale, and the photo that was taken last had evidence of the split lip that she had told me about.
The Ensley in these photographs was not the same vivacious woman I knew and had slept with. She looked like a scared, broken person in these pictures. Someone who had suffered deep trauma at the hands of a man who should have been protecting her and taking care of her. I hadn’t asked, but I was still wondering what had attracted her to him in the first place.
My hands fisted up the more I went through the details of the statement she had made to the police.
They were in a fight that night. Ryan was drunk and pushed her against a glass cabinet. He was yelling at her, while she fell to the floor, conscious of the fact that her lip had split open. He had picked her up, bunching her hair in his hands and then slammed her against the wall.
Ensley claimed in her report that she didn’t fight back. She just cried till he passed out on the couch. That was when she left the apartment and thankfully went straight to the police station.
I had known enough battered and abused women in my lifetime to know what a brave step that had been. I hated every fucking man who raised a finger at a woman, but I felt like I hated Ryan the most. Ensley hadn’t disclosed just how traumatic her experiences had been, but I could see now, and I wanted to protect her even more.
I was glad that she had managed to escape that life, and I was determined that she would never have to go through that again.
My eyes drifted to the computer screen on my coffee table. I could see the asshole’s face on my screen now. On his social media account, he seemed like an ordinary guy with an ordinary set of friends. Dusty blond hair, a narrow face and somewhat of a jokester online.
I would bet money that none of his friends or family knew exactly the kind of man he was behind closed doors. People rarely did.
I scrolled through the page, clicking on photographs and re-reading status updates to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything. Ryan didn’t update his social media on where he was, or what he was doing. He seemed to be leading a regular kind of life.
It was only when I stumbled on one of his recent photographs, that I stopped scrolling. Something had caught my eye, which I hadn’t noticed the previous times that I’d looked at the pictures.
Ryan was in the photo, it was a selfie, and his face covered most of the frame-which was probably why I had missed noticing it earlier. It was only when I looked closer that I noticed the background. The Santa Monica Pier was behind him, and this fucking asshole was smiling at the camera.
I stood up with a jerk from the chair and rushed to get my cell phone. I tried Jamison’s number first. He was on shift to watch Ensley’s front door, but his phone rang through. I tried again and no response.
I was pacing the hotel room, as I rang Topher. He was supposed to be downstairs, watching the entrance to Ensley’s building. He answered the call.
“What’s going on?” I barked into the phone. Topher seemed surprised by the tone of my voice, which was a good thing, I thought.
“It’s all good, brother. She hasn’t left her apartment yet and not too many people have gone into the building. Don’t worry, man, we’re keeping an eye on her,” he said and added a laugh.
I couldn’t stop pacing. I had a bad gut feeling that I couldn’t get rid of.
“Where is Jamison? I tried calling him,” I growled into the phone.
“Jamison? He should be up there on her floor. That was where I left him, spoke to him like an hour ago and everything was fine,” Topher replied.
“Why the fuck isn’t he answering his phone?” I barked.
“Calm down there, brother. He’s probably just gone to piss or something. Maybe his phone is on silent. It could be any of those things. I told you I’ve been keeping an eye and nothing’s happened,” Topher said, trying to put me at ease.
“Fuck this. He should be fucking reachable when I need him!” I growled and ended the call.
I dialed Ensley’s number right after that, still pacing around and waiting for her to pick up.
She didn’t, and the call ended. I tried her number again, and there was no response.
“Fuck!” I growled loudly, as I ran to pick up my leather cut and my helmet. I was out of the hotel room door in under a minute, and I didn’t stop trying Jamison and Ensley’s phones. Neither of them was answering. This couldn’t be good!
I ran out of the hotel and jumped on my bike. With my phone still stuck to my ear, I kept calling as I rode towards her apartment building.
This was a fucking mistake. I shouldn’t have given the responsibility to any of the other guys. None of them had as much at stake as I did.
What did I have at stake? The thought jolted my brain as I rode closer and closer to her place. We were just beginning to get to know each other. I wasn’t the kind of guy she should be with, to begin with. Wasn’t it just sex between us anyway? Sex and a job. That was all.
And yet, as I parked my bike outside her apartment building, I couldn’t shake off the feeling that if I lost Ensley; I would never be able to forgive myself.