Charged (15 page)

I want all of that. I always did. But who could handle this misfit life? I want the connection of life, love and caring. Is it unfair to ask for it? I see it within my grasp, but it’s always just out of reach.

Realizing this date/non-date was a mistake, I rise to leave, picking up my sweater, and attempting a quick exit from the cafe. Ryker takes ahold of my hand gently, halting my exit-stage-left move. He sees my fight or flight mechanism is in gear.

“Can’t stay?” he asks softly. 

Biting my bottom lip, worrying it between my teeth, I think of an answer. “I need to leave. This was a mistake.” 

“Coffee was a mistake? Well, that’s a first.” He sounds genuinely wounded. Not the wimpy kind I normally hear. It’s the, ‘
I can’t believe you gave me the I-need-to-wash-my-hair’
excuse kind. 

“It’s not the coffee, and it’s not you. It’s —”

“Stop. It’s only coffee.”  He’s right, and I’m being such a fucking bitch. “Have your coffee, and hang out for ten minutes. I’ll take you back to Hazel’s if you want to leave then.”  

I pause, setting my sweater back down. “Sorry. That was rude.” I was nasty and he didn’t deserve it. Taking a deep breath of the exotic beans, they waft around in a thick cloud calming me. 

“Kate, I probably know more about your predicament than you think.” I look up at him, startled. “You have that deer in the headlights look all the fucking time. You’re looking around corners, checking cars, eyeballing every person that walks by, and jumping at every little noise. Whatever it is, or whoever it is that has you so wound up, having a coffee with me won’t change shit.”

“You’re right.”

“Damn right, I’m right,” he says confidently. 

As we sit silent for a few uncomfortable minutes, I can feel his eyes on me as I look around, doing my best to look at
anything
but him. I can’t help wondering how long it will take for someone to recognize me. It wouldn’t be the first time, but this is the first time I have no way to escape. 

As Val returns with our espressos, I’m a little nervous about trying it. It’s still scary that he’s seeing right through my fake bravado. Maybe sitting here is safe, maybe it isn’t, but if I don’t try, then I’ll never know. And if the coffee is as good as he says, I won’t be able to hide my joy. Ryker is figuring me out easily, and it’s putting me on edge.

“Trust me, Kate. Try it.”

He stirs in the perfect amount of sugar for the shot, sucks the moisture off the spoon, then setting it down, he picks up his cup. The size of the shot glass looks so out of place in his massive hands. As he perches on the tiny chair, he looks like a giant at a child’s tea party. I can’t help but imagine what he’d look like with a pink tutu, ribbons tied haphazardly throughout his hair, and bright lipstick poorly applied by a five-year-old girl. She would have his eyes, and grin wildly for his affection. I smile, grab my cup and blow lightly across the top. Taking in the scent of the dark rich aroma, I moan. 

Growling, Ryker sips the contents of his own cup. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing,” I reply, my voice an octave higher than it should be. “I just thought of how silly that little cup looks in your massive hands. It made me think of a tea party, like Alice in Wonderland, where you’re the unnaturally out of place guest with the Mad Hatter.”

“Well. I’m glad I can humour you. Next time I’ll ask for a bigger cup. Would a beer mug seem more appropriate?” He places the little cup down gently on the saucer and rolls his eyes at my audacious remark. Boy, I can piss him off easily. 

I look away from him, trying like hell to pull my concentration back to the task at hand. I blow on my drink, taking in a small amount of the scrumptious liquid, relishing it, and rolling it on my tongue like a perfectly aged wine. Ryker is right. The espresso’s sensuality rushes in my mouth, taking me back to the last time I had Romeo’s. I’m sipping my memories, exquisite drop by drop.

“So, o’elusive one, you gonna tell me what you’re hiding from?” Ryker eyes me, raising a heavy eyebrow. Taking another sip from the ridiculously petite cup, he tosses questions at me. “Ex-boyfriend? Ex-girlfriend? Tax collector? Crappy boss? There’s gotta be a reason you’re like a scared rabbit checking for a fox.” 

“The coffee is good, but not
that
good.” Winking, I play with him a bit. “I’m not the sharing type.” I look sideways at Val, trying to remove the jealousy from my tone. “If I give up the secrets of the Caramilk bar, then everyone will want some of this chocolate.” I wave my hands, indicating my body. “This isn’t something that gets shared often either.”

Ryker’s eyes darken and he lets out another low grumble. Smiling and knowing I get under his skin, I look away from him, back to my cup. Blowing off a small whiff of foam from the edge, I gulp back the remainder. 

Ryker reaches for my hand, placing it in his. It envelopes mine making me look like a china doll in comparison. The things those hands could do. The size makes mine so tiny. And the color of his golden, olive tanned skin tells me a bit about his background. I may have the Mediterranean DNA, but for some reason I lost out on the dark skin tone. I’m pale.  

“I share,” he says with a playfulness, pulling me back to the present. It’s that kind that lets you know trouble is just around the corner. 

“So, I’ve seen. What’s the story with Kendra? She your girlfriend? Wife?”

“Fuck no! Definitely not,” he says curtly stroking his fingers along the soft skin on my hand. “I wouldn’t be here if I had a wife. I’m a loyal dog.” 

Good to know. 

“So what’s your favorite colour, music, likes other than cars? What do you do for fun? Ex-wife?” I lean forward and wag my eyebrows at him. “Maybe a hidden boyfriend?” 

“Sugar, if he has a husband, I want a ticket to that show.” Val laughs, passing our table. Taking my now empty cup, she asks. “Another?” I nod yes, Val grins, then leaves us alone once more. 

“Fine,” he says. “We’ll play twenty questions, but don’t expect I’ll play fair. You ready?” 

“Sure.” 

“When did you leave the Bronx?” Wow, straight to the point, eh Ryker? He gives me a cheeky grin and waits for my response. 

“I was almost eleven. When did you leave?” 

“Eleven, but I already told you that earlier.” Back to curt point answers. Jeez. So serious. 

“Fine. Why did you leave?”

Ryker crosses his arms, leans back and blows out a big breath. “My mother was murdered. Jack picked me up at school, and I’ve lived here ever since.” 

I ignore the part about his murdered mother, sensing that he doesn’t want to talk about it. Instead I focus on Jack. “Is he family?” 

“Nope.” That was final. Nothing more will come out of that line of questioning. 

“Why do still have that piece of shit car if you’re hiding out?”  Shit. Why'd I never think of that? “Don’t you think whoever you’re hiding from can find you quicker if you keep the same junker?” 

He hit that square on the head. “I just always thought about getting to a new point. Creature was the means. Now, you skipped my first question. Ever
been
married?” 

He smiles that wide Cheshire grin I like, then sucks back the remainder of his cup. “No, never married. Not engaged, not in a serious relationship, not into men, and as you noticed before, I have no proclivities towards little girls like that son of a bitch, Cletus. I like women, but I don’t do relationships,” he says, matter-of-factly as Val brings us both refills of luxury.

Interesting. “Ok,” I turn back to Ryker, answering what he asked before the warm cup appeared. “Let me point out the oversized elephant in the room. I didn’t leave with family, no pets, and no siblings; I’m an only.”

“Craziest place you’ve had sex?”

“Top of a water tower with Francis Bowen.”

A dirty grin creeps its way across his face. “Woman?”

“Decidedly not. Parents were just mean. You?” 

“Helicopter.” He tilts his head and grins. Yeah, that’s a natural place. 

“Fine. Favorite activity?” Grabbing my refilled cup, I sip it slower this time. The first one had been rushed, this one I want to relish.

“Soon it will be fucking you. And just so you know, if given the choice, I’ll go for the bottom ‘cause I like a girl who gives better than she gets.” 

I instantly feel flushed. Ignoring it, I glare at him. “Come on. Truly?”

“It will be my new favourite activity, but building cars from nothing is a close second. I like creating. I find it peaceful.” 

“I expected that.”

He ignores my quip and continues. “You? Do you have any hobbies, other than hiding out?” 

“Again, decidedly not.” Ryker still holds my hand in his and it’s lovely. “I learned not too. Falling in love with something, then giving it up wasn’t worth it. It’s hard on the soul.” 

“Stay put. You might find there are those that would fight for you.” 

“That’s the problem. I wouldn’t ask that. This isn’t worth death.” Licking the foam off the inside of the cup is one of my favorite things to do. Looking up, I see Ryker’s gaze is hardened steel. “Sorry about that.” I say. 

Shaking his head, he smirks. “Don’t. That was sexy as fuck.” 

“Well, fuck me,” I mutter, blushing deeply. 

Ryker leans in, reaching under the table with his free hand, and strokes the soft skin just above my knee. “I intend to, spark plug. I intend to.” 

His touch elicits five-alarm feelings in me, and I need to change the subject, which is harder than it seems. His touch causes so many conflicting feelings in me. I want to let him. I
want
to just let go and finally let someone in, but I’m scared. I don’t think even Ryker in all his muscular glory is a big enough deterrent for GF. When he decides I’m going with him, nothing will stop him, but, at least in the meantime I could enjoy something scrumptious.

I clear my throat on a cough, lean back, and push his hand to the side. “Moving on. What is it with you and Clit? It didn’t seem like it was just about me. What made you snap today?”

“He’s an asshole, a pervert, and I was sick of his shit.” No lost love there. 

“Is he family?”

“No he’s not a part of my family. He happens to be part of
the
family though. He’s nephew to the boss.” 

“Jack, you mean?”

“No, not Jack. Jack, works for the family, so do I. Clit’s part of
the
family. His crazy fetishes have been overlooked because of his relation to Gianfranco, being Mario’s son, and all. They have ownership in our shop, but today was the last time I would deal with his shit, and I snapped. I couldn’t handle his hands on you.” 

I freeze mid-sip, my lungs struggling for air. Please tell me that when he used the words ‘family’ and ‘boss’ in the same sentence as ‘Mario’ and ‘Gianfranco’ that it was just a coincidence. Please tell me that he isn’t affiliated with the mob.  

Placing the cup on the table, softly, and methodically, pulling my hand back from him, I remind myself to breathe. I’m sure it’s written all over my face as I have the worst
poker face on the planet. I’m sure I’m not very convincing, as my hands shake, and my heart rate increases tenfold. I’m panicking. 

My head spins, my eyes darting out to the busy street, searching the area for places to hide, or maybe I’ll steal a car. I’m about to make a run for it; twice in one date has got to be a record.

Slowing myself down, calming my nerves, and steadying my heartbeat, I figure I have two options. One, kick Ryker in the balls, but if I don’t aim right, he’ll be hot on my tail. And honestly, I don’t really want to. Or two, play dumb and try to find out more info, then when he takes me home, I run like hell. 

Stealing a car will be a necessity since Creature is fully torn apart, lying in pieces in the middle of a mob shop. Or as fast as I can, I’ll grab my things from Hazel’s and hitchhike to South America. The sombrero fifty-third State is closer than the Canadian border. 

Fuck I hate this. Even though I broke down here, I finally had somewhere that I felt like I belonged, and now I have to fucking split quick. 

Trying to act natural, at least until I can get back to the yard, I avoid his eyes and ask, “So, when you say family and boss, do you mean like it is in New York? Or is it, as in family, and he’s related to someone
else
who is
your
boss?” I think that came off neurotic, and weirdly automated. Shit. 

Ryker pushes his empty cup out of the way, lifting my chin, then looking me directly in the eyes, his eyes boring into mine. The whole situation is so tense. I swear this man has a bullshit meter and can see every single lie.

Bending forward, Ryker holds my face in his palm and he won’t let me look away.  The motion isn’t lost on me, he’s not releasing me. He’s not letting me run. He’s too close to the truth. I need to get out of this situation,  now.

“You know, exactly who I mean. Don’t you?” He’s too fucking smart. 

Why me? Did he know who I was from the beginning? If yes, I’m so far up shit creek I’ll never make it back in one piece. I’d thought I was doing so good keeping everyone off my trail, and for some reason this guy sees everything; everything! My voice — downfall, my love of good coffee — yep, yet another issue. God dammit, he
knows
.