Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (27 page)

“Give me a goddamn pen,” Aiden barked, holding out his hand.

The triumphant grin on Vincent’s face would have made the Cheshire Cat jealous.

As soon as the Bic found his hand, Aiden scribbled his signature on the back page and slapped the document into Moralli’s chest. The man caught it and nodded to Luciana to let Ryann go. The moment he released her arm, she ran toward Aiden and threw herself into his arms.

“I’m so sorry! Aiden, I didn’t know . . .”

Whether that was true or not, it hardly mattered now. And this wasn’t the place to discuss it. With a death glare shot over his shoulder at his new employer, he ushered Ryann toward the door. As they passed Frank, Aiden paused long enough to growl, “You touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

When they reached the door, Vincent’s voice rang out loud and taunting. “And just so you know, your first fight is tomorrow night. If you don’t show for a fight, we will find Ryann and kill her. This is your only warning. Stop by my secretary’s desk on the way out. She has a copy of the contract and a fight schedule waiting for you. See you in the cage.”

CHAPTER

 28 

O
h, God . . . oh, God . . . oh, God . . .
she repeated the panicked plea over and over. Aiden must hate her . . . How could he not? Whether intentionally complicit or not, she’d done that devil’s bidding. It was her fault for bringing Aiden here, her fault he was being forced to fight for Moralli. She knew how bad it looked. There was no way she could ever convince him of her innocence now.

Ryann sat in the passenger seat and tried not to throw up. In all the time she’d known Aiden, she’d never seen him look as murderous as he did right now. Silence was never so loud. She snuck a quick glance at him as he navigated the streets of Manhattan. She would have asked him where he was going but didn’t dare speak. He had a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched so tight it made the little muscle in his cheek tick. Fine lines bracketed his mouth, and his lips were thin with barely suppressed rage. She desperately wished he would say something—anything. It was the silence that was killing her.

Everything about this man screamed Do Not Touch! Yet all she wanted to do was throw herself in the shelter of his arms as she tried to block out the past eighteen hours.

She’d been so sure she was going to die. If the head injury she’d gotten from the man called Frank didn’t kill her first, surely that massive brute still would have. Ryann had no way of knowing how long she’d been out. She’d woken in a modestly supplied bedroom with the door locked. Shortly after regaining consciousness, Vincent had arrived and begun questioning her about Aiden, and oddly about her father—where he’d kept his records and his client lists. None of which she knew the answer to. Her father had always kept his work confidential. And now she knew why.

Her mind was still reeling. She couldn’t believe it . . . her father had been working for Vincent Moralli. Why? Why would he do something like that?

Of course . . . the gambling debt. And now Moralli was using her father’s debt to manipulate her, too.
Oh, my God . . .
She realized with horrifying clarity that he never wanted the debt paid! He was just using the deadline as a bargaining chip. It was the only way she would have agreed to take Aiden’s case—and he knew it. Moralli was banking on her ability to convince Aiden to come back with her. Since the two men before her had tried and failed, he’d had to switch tactics.

Oh, Lord, she was going to be sick. A wave of nausea surged up inside her, her stomach clenched, and the bitter sting of bile burned her throat. Moralli was right, she really was nothing but a pawn—a pawn to be used against Aiden.

She wouldn’t blame Aiden if he never wanted to see her again, never wanted to speak to her again. The thought sent a sharp pang of regret piercing her heart, her breath catching in her throat. The sudden hitch of movement didn’t escape Aiden’s notice. His hard amber gaze briefly darted her way before returning to the road. “Are you all right?”

No. No, she was not. Her head was killing her and the knot along her temple was throbbing in time with her heart, which happened to be shattering more and more with each passing minute that Aiden refused to speak to her.

“I’m fine,” she lied, not wanting to draw any more attention to herself. She couldn’t possibly feel more horrible about what happened.

The muscle in Aiden’s jaw ticked. She was coming to realize it was his tell for
I’m about to lose my shit.
He turned the full strength of that amber stare on her and she never wanted to be a shrinking violet more in her life. It was a good thing they’d hit the highway taking them toward Brooklyn and it was a light traffic day, because that man’s attention was not on the road.

“When are you going to start being honest with me, Ryann? For fuck’s sake, I see you’re not all right. I’m not all right. Nothing about this goddamn mess is all right!”

She lifted her shaky hand to cover her mouth, holding back the sob that threatened to break free. “I’m sorry . . . You’re right. I’m so sorry, Aiden! I had no idea this was going to happen or I never would have brought you here, I swear. And I know how bad this looks. I wouldn’t believe me either, but I swear to God I didn’t know. I didn’t find out the truth until today!”

“What truth is that? That your debt is unpayable? That your father worked for Moralli? Or that you work for the bastard, too? You’re a smart woman, Ryann. I find it hard to believe that you didn’t know this!”

He’d never yelled at her before. Of all the things she’d done to him, all the lying, the manipulation, even drugging him, Aiden had never been this angry. “Just answer me this, was it the plan all along to get me to fall in love with you?”

A broken sob escaped her throat at his question. It fractured her on so many levels, all she could do was force air in and out of her lungs. That he could believe she would be capable of such manipulation, such deceit, broke what was left of her heart. Telling her he loved her was a bittersweet confession that rendered her speechless. A small flicker of hope bloomed inside her, flickering like a candle trying to stay lit in the torrential storm of his rage.

But he mistook her shocked silence for guilt and snarled, “You can’t even give me that, can you?”

“No!” she cried. “You don’t understand, there was no plan! I wasn’t trying to manipulate you to love me. I had no idea you even felt that way until two seconds ago! And I don’t expect you to believe me, but I love you, too. I fell in love with you the night you took me out to dinner and let me see who you really are. I fell in love with you when you refused to sleep with me because you didn’t want me to think you were taking advantage of me. I fell in love with you when you held my head out of the toilet because I drank two bottles of wine. I love you so much and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you because I
know
how bad this looks!”

She didn’t realize they were stopped until the cars passing by began rocking the SUV. Aiden’s amber stare was locked on her, his expression giving nothing away as to what was going on in his mind. But she was seconds from losing it. She rushed to say her piece before she dissolved into a sobbing mess. “Your mother hired me to find you and bring you back to New York. I didn’t know Moralli was behind this. I’m sorry . . .” The last part was lost as she finally broke down, mourning for the loss of her father and the illusion of a hero he never was. She resented the mess he left behind, and the helpless situation she was now stuck in with Vincent Moralli. She regretted like hell the mistakes she’d made with Aiden and for ruining what could have been the best thing in her life.

It took her several minutes to realize she was caged in the strength of arms. Her fists were gripping the lapels of his suit as she soaked his black silk shirt with her tears. Her forehead rested against the solid plane of his chest. Each shuddering breath dragged his scent deeper into her lungs until it seemed his very essence infused her soul, giving her his calming strength.

“Shhh,” he whispered. “Sweetheart, don’t cry. We’re going to figure this out. I promise. Just trust me . . . Can you do that?”

She nodded against his chest, unable to speak past the lump in her
throat. His head dipped and his lips brushed against her cheek . . . her forehead . . . When they grazed her temple she winced and Aiden growled a nasty oath. His hands cupped her face, tipping it up for inspection. His brows drew tight in a pinched scowl as his fingers slipped into the hair at her temple, carefully probing.

Ouch!

She shrank back from his touch, but he persisted, gently parting her hair for a closer look. His scowl deepened. “You’re hurt. What in the hell happened, Ryann?”

Wow . . . and she’d thought he looked angry before. There was Aiden mad at
her
, and then there was Aiden mad at the
world
. The severity in him was like night and day.

“How did you get hurt?”

Suddenly, his hands were all over her—in her hair, checking her scalp for any other bumps or bruises, feeling along the back of her neck, the sides of her throat, his thumbs tracing the curvature of her clavicles. He touched her with the deft efficiency of a fighter who’d performed more than one quick exam on an injured partner.

“Aiden, stop. I’m fine,” she said, reaching up to grab his wrist before his hands-on inspection could go past her shoulders. It didn’t matter that he didn’t intend for it to happen, his touch was turning her on, and this was not the time to get those emotions involved.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded.

“The man Moralli called Frank. He came to my house last night. I opened the door when he knocked. I thought . . . I thought he was you.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t. I tried to run upstairs to get my father’s gun, but he caught my ankle and I fell. I hit my head on the stairs. That was the last thing I remember until Vincent came to the room they locked me in and questioned me about you and my dad.”

“Fuck . . .”

Yeah, that pretty much summed it up, all right.

“You sure you’re okay? Head injuries can be serious.”

“I’m fine. The spot is tender and I have a headache, but it’s manageable. I’d just really like to go home. It’s been an exhausting day.”

“I’m taking you home so you can pack your bags. It’s not safe for you to stay there, Ryann. You’re coming back with me. My place isn’t impenetrable, but it’s a hell of a lot safer than where you’re living right now.”

“Wow, you make the offer sound so romantic. How can a girl refuse?” It was a pitiful attempt at humor, but it was all she had to give.

Aiden did his part by giving her a lopsided grin and shrugging. “What can I say, I
am
Disco Kruze. I do have a way with the ladies.”

A bubble of laughter burst out at his comeback, and, man, did she need that. It gave her hope she didn’t have thirty minutes ago, and a sense that although their situation looked pretty hopeless right now, they were in this together and they were going to get through this—together.

“Wow . . . Aiden, the view from here is amazing! You can see Ellis Island!” Ryann’s voice echoed through the penthouse. The open floor plan made the already spacious place feel huge. From where she stood in the living room, she could see the kitchen, the dining room, the foyer and the hallway that led to his office, the bathroom, and three bedrooms. The last room was a master suite he’d converted into a gym. Which, knowing Aiden, actually didn’t surprise her at all.

After giving her a brief tour, he deposited her bags in the spare bedroom across from his. She wasn’t expecting him to try to move her into his room and told herself not to let it sting that he hadn’t offered. She liked the idea of having her own space, but she liked the idea of spending her nights in Aiden’s bed even more.

She wasn’t naïve enough to think that one heartfelt confession of love blurted in the middle of an emotional breakdown was going to repair the damage done to his trust. She’d have to earn that, and although she was innocent of much, she was guilty of plenty, and Aiden wasn’t the kind of man that was ruled by his heart. He was intellectual and calculated in both his thoughts and his actions. He wasn’t a man to give his feelings a vote. Though she had no doubt that he cared for her, he was a master at building walls, and she feared the progress she’d made during their journey to New York had been completely undone by Moralli—just one more thing that bastard had taken from her . . .