In bed with Havoc

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

AVA

The thing about annoying Ryder Kane was that it was very, very easy.

Three days of it and I had developed some sort of routine. I talked to every guard who made eye contact with me. I wandered into rooms I wasn't supposed to be in and stood there just long enough to be noticed on the cameras before leaving. I asked Gabe detailed questions about the security rotation that I had absolutely no practical use for just to watch him choose his words carefully.

By day two, four guards had been rotated off my wing.

By day three, Gabe had stopped making eye contact and avoided me altogether.

So when I walked into the formal dining room that evening and found the table set for two with no staff anywhere in sight I understood immediately that the casual part of this arrangement was over.

Ryder was already seated and he looked up when I came in then gestured at the chair across from him. I sat down because the food smelled good and I was hungry and also because I wanted to see what this was.

We served ourselves in silence while I waited for him to speak but he let me wait which meant whatever he wanted to say he was going to say on his own schedule, not mine.

"Vargas has confirmed eyes on the perimeter," he said finally, cutting into his food without looking up. "Not an assault… yet, but he's positioned people close enough to watch. He's mapping the estate."

"Mapping it for what?"

"An entry point." He looked up. "He's going to move eventually. The probe the other night was the first step."

I set my fork down. "How long?"

"That's hard to say. Could be days, could be longer. Depends on what he thinks we have." He looked at me calmly. "Which brings me to the flash drive."

There it was.

"No," I said.

"Ava—"

"I said no." I picked my fork back up. "You want me to hand you the only leverage I have and trust that you'll use it the way I need it used. Why would I do that?"

"Because I'm the only thing standing between you and a man who puts bullets in journalists."

"Mrs. Porter got a bullet in her apartment," I said dryly "your kind of protection comes a little late."

He was quiet for a moment and I could see something move behind his eyes but he didn't give up. "Tell me what's on it."

"Financial records, shipping manifests, communications between Vargas and three sitting politicians, enough to put him away for the rest of his life." I watched his face. "Why?"

"Because I need to know how much he thinks you have."

"You already know about his network," I said slowly, "don't you? This isn't news to you."

He picked up his glass. "I know pieces."

"How?”

"Vargas destroyed my father's company twelve years ago," he said. This time his voice was more strained than a few seconds ago. "I've been building a case against him since before you ever heard his name. What I have and what you have are probably different parts of the same picture."

I sat back. I hadn't expected that much truth and I didn't know what to do with it so I picked up my fork again and we ate in silence for a minute. I didn't like the air in the room, it was the kind that stripped you of everything and made you vulnerable and the last thing I wanted was to be vulnerable around him.

Clearing my throat, "So we both want him gone."

"Yes."

"That doesn't mean I trust you."

"I'm not asking you to trust me," he said, "I'm asking you to be practical."

"Those are the same thing."

The corner of his mouth tilted in a ghost fo a smile, making me look away.

We had small talks after that while we pretended that the tension wasn't suffocating. We traded little information that didn't give away too much. He told me about Vargas's network in Eastern Europe and I told him which politicians were named in my documents.

At some point I said, "For a man running a private military operation out of his basement you're surprisingly bad at sharing information," and he laughed.

It was sudden enough that I think it surprised him too. It made me look up from my plate to stare at him because I hadn't heard that in five years and I had forgotten the sweet sound of it. It caused a deep ache in me before I could even stop it.

He caught me staring and stopped.

I didn't mean to say it out loud but I did. "You used to laugh more."

He looked at me for a moment. "So did you."

Another deep ache filled me as we fell silent. The fire crackling in the other room was the only sound between us.

I broke it because I had to.

"I hate you," I said and my voice came out quieter than I wanted but steadier than I expected.

"I know."

"I need you to keep saying that to yourself," I said, "because I'm starting to forget. And that terrifies me."

He didn't say anything. I refused to look at him and that’s when I felt the air change.

Then his hand moved across the table.

Just two of his fingers came to rest at the back of my hand. It was only for a second but the damage had already been done. A soft, shaky breath escaped me as he pulled back, stood up with his plate, set his napkin on the table and then left the room as if he hadn't just started to break down the walls I had spent five years building.

I sat there, listening to his footsteps until I couldn't hear them anymore.

The room was very quiet.

I looked down at my hand and then I pressed it flat to the table, palm down, fingers spread, right where his had been.

I stayed like that for a long time because Ryder was living up to his nickname.

Havoc.

That's what he was causing inside me.