Chapter2
1174 Words
Ryland’s POV
Ryland hated getting up early. He basically believed that waking before nine was a sin. Now, it was barely seven, and the sun was still rising in the cloudy sky, and there he was.
Waiting on the tarmac for some reporter who had gotten into trouble for sticking her nose where it didn’t belong.
It was all fine and dandy when people tried to solve cold cases, but as soon as these reporters got too big for their breeches, they messed with things they couldn’t possibly understand.
And that made his job all the more difficult.
The sound of the loud jet engine cut through his thoughts, and Ryland watched as the BMA plane landed. He pulled his phone from his back pocket and texted Wilder.
Ryland: Your girl is here. Wilder immediately tried to call him, but Ryland declined the call and texted instead.
Ryland: It’s way too early to talk to you.
Wilder: Don’t be a child. She’s not my girl. She’s someone with valuable information. Keep her safe and out of trouble.
Wilder: I hope you read those papers I sent you on the Vases of Destiny. Wilder: Don’t f**k this up. Our reputation took a s**t-kicking with Canaan and Elizabeth. No more mistakes.
Ryland looked down at the flurry of incoming text messages. Apparently, it didn’t matter how you spoke to Wilder. He would always find a way to get in the last word.
Bored and still craving sleep … or, at the very least, a large cup of coffee … Ryland opened one of the many emails Wilder had sent. He scanned the information, but nothing made it through his sleepy defenses. He was too distracted to retain any of it.
Finally, the plane touched down, and soon, the stairs were down, and a woman descended, scanning the tarmac as if she were expecting someone to pounce on her.
He recognized her immediately. Caroline Knight. The true-crime podcaster.
His favorite true-crime podcaster. He frowned in confusion as she made her way over to him, but her identity was the least of his problems. The second her sweet sugary scent hit his nose, Ryland had bigger problems.
Mate. That woman is my mate. She’s mine.
* * *
Ryland couldn’t move.He didn’t even dare breathe. The second he did take a breath, his mouth and nostrils would be filled with Caroline Knight’s scent, and that was the last thing he wanted.
“You must be Ryland,” Caroline called out.
She was only a few feet from him, but she held out her hand for him to shake. He didn’t want to take it, so instead, he stuffed his phone into his pocket before crossing his arms.
“And you must be the trouble my brother sent me.”
Her smile faded, and her beautiful brown eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You brought trouble,” he repeated. “Sticking your nose in business that isn’t yours.”
“I am a true-crime podcaster. It’s what I do.”
“You’re a podcaster who tries to solve cold cases. What are you doing, going off to Europe to solve crimes that are definitelynotcold?”
“Both of those murders aren’t solved,” she replied, glaring at him.
She was cute when she was angry. The thought surprised him, and he did his best to ignore it. “I would hardly call a six-month-old casecold.”
“Then you don’t know much about the justice system. Chances are those cases will never be solved because too much time has passed.”
He grinned, though he didn’t want to. “Yeah? You know that for a fact?”
“I’m a reporter. I deal in facts.”
“You’re a podcaster. You deal in likes and reviews.”
Caroline’s delicious mouth smashed down into a thin line. “You’re insulting.”
“And you meddle in things you don’t understand.”
“Stop saying that. I’m a reporter.” “Stop saying that,” he repeated.
“You’ve got a podcast.”
“What I have is a degree in journalism. It’s not my fault print media is dying. I’ve had to adapt, but that doesn’t make my job any less important.”
He shrugged. God, she smelled good. Too good. He didn’t want her in his car. He would never be able to get rid of the smell, and then where would he be? He would be buying a new car just to get rid of the reminder that he’d met his mate.
It was much easier to antagonize her. If his mate hated him, there would be no chance of falling in love. None at All.
“Your job?” He laughed. “You followed the trail of a murderer in no tone but two foreign countries.
That’s not a job. That’s a death wish.” “I have a producer, and I go where she tells me. Just like a reporter would follow the guidance of their editor. There’s no difference.”
There was a difference, though. A very big one. Too bad Caroline couldn’t see it.
“Do you even speak French?” Ryland asked. She lifted her head defiantly.
“No.” “Italian?”
“I only speak English.”
“And you didn’t think that the language barrier would stop you? Put you in danger?”
“My producer said it wasn’t going to be an issue. I have Google Translate on my phone, just like everyone else.”
Ryland threw his head back with a laugh. “And how would that help you if you were in danger?”
“I’m back home safe, aren’t I?”
“Only because, for some f*****g reason, my older brother saw fit to give you protection. Are you his lover?”
Ryland regretted the words as soon as he said them. Caroline’s entire face fell, and if she could have thrown daggers with her eyes, she would’ve.
He could sense the anger rolling off her. Something tight sat in his belly. He didn’t like the image of Wilder touching his mate.
He took a step closer to Caroline. “Are you his lover?” he repeated. “Is that why?”
“You donotspeak to me like that.” Ryland knew he had no right to ask her these questions, but hehadto know. He couldn’t stop himself from asking. How could he deal with it if his brother had been with his mate?
“I am no one’slover. I am a professional. A reporter. I went to him for help, and he helped. Why does it have to be a s****l thing? Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were just some fun podcaster, but it looks like you’ve got yourself mixed up with things you don’t understand. Some reporter you are. Get in the car.”
He made a mental note to call his favorite car dealership. It was time for a change of vehicle, anyway.
- Writer
