Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (34 page)

He laughed at her startled yelp, ignoring her protests as he proceeded to remove her soaked tank top. “I’m trying to take care of you, and you’re not cooperating,” she complained half-heartedly.

“You are taking care of me,” he growled, nipping playfully at her throat. “My way . . .”

He ignored her playful objections, ripping the thin elastic straps of her panties, and lifted her to straddle his lap. If his shoulder was hurting him, he wasn’t babying it now. When he set her down, he entered her with a well-timed thrust, seating himself against her core. Her pleasured cry was mingled with his lustful growl as his hands dropped to her hips and began working her up and down the hard length of his cock.

“Fuck, Ryann . . . I’d fight every day if it meant coming home to this.”

In that moment, as Aiden took command of her body, of their pleasure, she was pretty sure that was the sweetest thing he’d ever said to her.

CHAPTER

 35 

Y
ou never told me how your meeting went yesterday.”

Ryann rolled onto her stomach and gathered Aiden’s pillow in her arms, drawing his scent deep into her lungs as she propped it beneath her chin. She lay across his bed naked, knees bent, calves intertwined in the air as she watched him dress. The man was a work of art—from the flawless design of his body to the fluid masculine grace of his movements . . . Would she ever tire of staring at him?

She knew she’d caught his notice when his eyes locked on hers in the reflection of the mirror, hands stilling on his tie. He muttered a curse, the flare of lust darkening that deep golden color. She gave him a grin of pure feminine satisfaction as she watched his gaze break away and travel the length of her naked posterior.

“I’m going to have you like this tonight,” he growled, cinching his tie into place.

His warning heated the blood in her veins until her toes tingled with anticipation. Lord help her, she loved this man. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” she teased.

“Minx . . .” Aiden strode over to the chair and grabbed his jacket, slipping it on.

She didn’t think she’d ever get used to seeing him in a suit. She knew how much he hated it, how badly the conformity rankled him. “You didn’t answer my question,” she prompted.

“The meeting went as well as I expected.” Was she just being paranoid or did he sound evasive? “I’m not sure if the evidence will be enough. If we had something clear cut—indisputable . . .” He shrugged. “It’s a wait-and-see game right now. My father showed up at the office yesterday. He doesn’t trust me, not that I blame him, but he’s being cautious. With any luck this will all be over soon. Until then, I’ll play the game, working for my father during the day, and fighting for Moralli at night. If they think they’ve won, they’re less likely to see what’s coming.”

Ryann wanted to ask him what he thought was going to happen when this was all over. What did he envision happening with them?—or was she just a temporary diversion while he gutted out his time here in New York? Would he stay? Would he want a life here with her? She couldn’t see him walking away from his career with the CFA. Yet, Ryann couldn’t help but notice that Aiden had yet to speak of their future.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you last night. I got an e-mail from a man who said he was a friend of my father.”

Aiden tensed, hands stilling on the buttons of his jacket. “What did he want?”

“To give me his condolences, and tell me he had something my father wanted him to give me if anything ever happened to him.”

“Do you have any idea what it is?”

She shook her head. “I arranged a meeting with him. I was hoping for today, but he’s unavailable until Monday. We’re meeting in midtown at seven.”

“Where in midtown?”

“O’Lunney’s.”

“Times Square is pretty crowded. Did you pick the location or did he?”

“I did. It was my dad’s favorite bar.” She could see the skepticism in Aiden’s eyes. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t share his concern. She’d considered the risks, the possibility that this could be a setup, and she could see Aiden was thinking the same thing. He was worried for her, yet she could tell he was hesitant to say anything that might dash her hopes. If this was legit, then this was her only opportunity to reconnect with her father from the grave, and the possibility was too great a temptation to pass up. What could her father want her to have that he couldn’t share with her while he was alive? Ryann couldn’t imagine, but she was determined to find out.

“Do you know the man’s name?”

“Henry. That’s all I know.”

“No last name?”

She shook her head.

“Did your father ever speak of him?”

“Not that I can remember. Toward the end, Dad had grown pretty private, though. Obviously, since I had no idea he was working for Moralli.”

“Nikko and I will go with you. He can get there early and scout the area. Let this Henry know that I’ll be with you so he doesn’t get spooked when you don’t show up alone.”

“All right.”

“I gotta go.” Aiden bent down and gave her a quick kiss. He started to pull back, then hesitated, slipping his hand behind her head and deepening the kiss. His tongue pushed past her lips, tangling with hers until she was breathless. With a reluctant groan, he broke away, resting his forehead against hers. “I really gotta go.”

“You already said that,” she teased. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Giving her a wicked grin, he growled, “You bet your sweet ass.” Stepping back, Aiden gave her a playful swat on said ass and walked toward the door.

“Hey,” she yelped, laughing, reminding her of the first time she’d met the flirtatious playboy and he’d done the same thing to her. If someone would have told her then that she’d be head over heels in love with the fighter, she would have said not a snowball’s chance in hell. Guess it was looking up for snowballs.

“You know you didn’t need to come with me,” Ryann complained,
shooting Nikko a suspicious scowl from the driver’s seat as she parked the Escape in the driveway of Andrews Private Investigation Services.

“I know, but I was going stir-crazy in that condo. Besides, I thought it might be cool to see where you worked.”

Uh-huh . . . Nikko didn’t exactly strike her as the kind of guy who’d be impressed by office supplies. He was tagging along with her. Why? “I don’t need a babysitter, Nikko.”

“Well that’s good, because I don’t do diaper duty. I want your car. That’s it. How long do you think you’ll be? I have some errands I need to run.”

“Oh . . .” Her cheeks warmed with the kiss of embarrassment at jumping to conclusions. “I umm . . . I’ll be a few hours.”

“All right.”

He climbed out of the car at the same time she did and met her halfway. She handed him the keys. “Thanks,” he said, pocketing them. When she proceeded toward the office and felt him at her heels, she shot him a questioning glance over her shoulder. “Mind if I use the bathroom before I leave?”

“Sure.” She gave him an apologetic grin. “You got in late last night,” she commented offhandedly, stopping at the door to dig through her purse for her office key.

“I figured you and Disco could use some space.”

“I wish I could have seen him fight.” She found the key at the bottom of her bag and pulled it out, a wistful smile touching her lips when she saw the mini Statue of Liberty dangling from the keychain. It was funny how some of the cheesiest, most insignificant things could grow to mean so much in the face of loss. Her father had given her the gaudy keychain in a jewelry box for her sixteenth birthday. It’d been attached to the key of her first car.

“You all right, Gingersnap?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly, sliding the key into the lock and turning it. “Huh . . .” She tensed, a niggling of alarm shooting through her when the lock didn’t click.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“The door . . . It isn’t locked. I know I— Nikko, what are you doing?”

Before she could blink, Nikko’s arm swept in front of her, herding her behind him and backing her up flush against the side of the building. “Wait here,” he commanded, reaching behind his back and pulling out a gun she hadn’t even known he was carrying. With swift efficiency, he chambered a round and brought the gun up to a ready position. And
that
was her first clue this guy was not your run-of-the-mill MMA fighter.

Her instincts about him had been right. Nikko Del Toro was a lethally dangerous man. He didn’t even hesitate as he stepped through the door. By the way he moved through her office, doing a thorough sweep, it was obvious he’d done this sort of thing before. She’d be willing to bet he was ex-law enforcement, or maybe ex-military.

Glass crunched beneath his feet. She waited as long as she could stand it before following him inside. Her horrified gasp broke the silence. Nikko shot her a tense scowl that softened with sympathy as she surveyed the wreckage. The place was destroyed. Papers were scattered everywhere, glass from the office doors was shattered, computers were smashed.

When Nikko entered the last room—her father’s office—his curse echoed in the hallway. Her gut clenched, threatening to bring up her breakfast. She’d left her father’s office as it was when he’d died, not yet ready to accept the loss of him, all the while harboring the insane hope that at any moment, her father would stroll into work and life would resume right where it left off a little more than a tragic month ago.

But all that was ruined now. Not a possession remained on his old wooden desk. Books were pulled from the shelves and strewn across the floor. File cabinets were overturned, nothing was left untouched—nothing deemed too sacred to destroy. A broken sob escaped her throat. She raised a shaky hand to her mouth in disbelief as her gaze fell on the family picture her father kept on his desk. It was the last one taken before her mother died. The memory now lay face-up on the floor, the glass spider-webbed across their faces. It was the perfect imagery of her life—shattered and in pieces.

Numbly, she shuffled farther into the room, stopping next to the photo. She bent, picking the sacred picture up from the floor. “Ruined . . .” she said, woodenly. “It’s all ruined . . .” Tipping the frame upside down, she dumped the glass onto the floor, adding the shards to the mess. Carefully, she slid the picture from the frame and hugged it to her chest. Oh, God, she was going to lose it right here in front of Nikko . . . “Excuse me,” she choked out, tossing the frame to the floor and rushing out of the room.

“Ryann, wait . . .”

She fled to the bathroom, the only door that didn’t have a window to break, and slammed the door behind her. The moment the lock snicked into place, she let go, crumpling to the floor in a heartbroken heap. Her job was all she had left—this was all that remained of her dad.

Ryann wasn’t sure how long she sat there, sobbing inconsolably while she rocked back and forth, clutching her photo. In between her hitching breaths, she heard a soft knock against the door. It was gentle but persistent. Nikko had tried to get her to open it a couple of times, but when she refused to acknowledge him, he’d respectfully retreated.

“Ryann, sweetheart, open the door,” the familiar, deep voice beckoned from the other side.

Like a single ray of light breaking through the clouds, so was the sound of Aiden’s voice fracturing her grief.

“How long has she been in there?” she heard him ask, concern straining his voice, making it gruff and impatient.

“About an hour. I called you as soon as she locked herself in.”

“This wasn’t vandalism . . .”

“Nope. But I think someone wanted it to look that way. The whole place is trashed, but none as bad as her dad’s office. They needed it to look random, so they hit the rest of the place hard.”

“Fuck . . . I don’t think it’s a question of who did this as much as what did they want and did they find it.”

As Ryann sat on the floor beside the plastic potted ficus, listening to Nikko filling Aiden in on his speculations, she struggled to get a grip on her unresolved grief that’d been brought back to the surface by the destruction of the last thing that was her father’s. He loved this office, loved being a private investigator. How had things gone so terribly wrong? Memories of better days, when her mom was still alive and her father was the backbone of their small tight-knit family, tore another broken sob from her throat.