Passing His Guard (Against the Cage #2) (39 page)

“I want you to come work for me.”

What!?
He was out of his freaking mind if he thought Ryann was going to work for the man who killed her father. “I’m sorry, as tempting as your offer sounds, I’m going to have to decline,” she snarked sarcastically. “I’m not working at all right now, since
someone
broke into my office and trashed the agency. Then again, I’m sure you already knew that. Did you find what you were looking for in my father’s office?”

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ryann. I haven’t done anything to your office. Why would I do that? Admittedly, I’ve used your father’s unpaid debt to manipulate you into taking the Kruze case, but despite what you obviously believe, you’re wrong. I didn’t touch your agency.”

“Wow . . . you almost sound convincing. Next, I suppose you’re also going to tell me you didn’t have my father killed.”

“I didn’t.”

There was no denying the voice of truth this time. Ryann’s stomach clenched, sending a surge of bile up the back of her throat.

“Axel Andrews was my employee, Ryann. Sure, he owed me money, but I have a lot of employees that owe me money. A good PI is hard to come by, and it’s bad business to start whacking your staff. So, no, I didn’t kill your father. But I know who did.”

She didn’t want to believe him, but his logic made sense. If Vincent Moralli was telling the truth, that would mean he didn’t know about her father’s hit list, which would mean he didn’t know about the flash drive, so he couldn’t have killed Henry. Had she been chasing after the wrong killer all this time? Sure Moralli was guilty of many crimes, and no question he was a very dangerous man. Hell, he was using her to threaten Aiden and forcing him to fight. “If you didn’t do it, then tell me who did.”

“Now, Ryann . . . you don’t think I’m actually going to make it that easy for you, do you? You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure it out. Once you take a step back and look at the whole picture, the answer will come to you easily enough. And if not, well then . . . I was wrong and you’re not half the investigator your father was. But if I were you, I’d start by asking myself who is powerful enough to influence the New York Police Department. As much as I wish it were, it isn’t me.”

The pieces began fitting together—clicking into place—and Ryann choked on her startled gasp. “Oh, my God,” she murmured, raising her hand to cover her mouth.
Oh, please no . . .

The deep throaty chuckle echoing on the other end was pure evil. The bastard was enjoying this. He was actually taking pleasure in her heartbreak. “Not quite that high up on the food chain, but you’re getting closer.”

She didn’t want to believe it. It wasn’t possible. Aiden’s father . . . a murderer? But even as she stood there, numbed by shock, trying to convince herself she was wrong, she knew in her heart it was true. It all made too much sense, the evidence was too damning—evidence that was in front of her all this time, but she was too blinded by her love for Aiden to see it.

“And the answer to your next question is yes, Aiden knows. He met with his father just this morning, before heading to a strip club where he seems to enjoy spending most of his time these days.”

Each revelation was another dagger in her heart. “Why are you telling me this?” she demanded.

“I already told you why,” he snapped impatiently. “Which means you’re not listening, Ryann. I want you to work for me. I’m proving to you that Aiden isn’t who you think he is. And although loyalty is an admirable trait I demand in my employees—you’ve misplaced yours. Your father’s death has been terribly inconvenient.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss . . .” she mocked.

“You will be if I don’t get what I want. I’m only going to be nice for so long, Ryann—and just a heads-up, I’m running out of patience.”

“Patience? You call this patience? You had me abducted! You threatened to kill me if Aiden didn’t fight for you.”

“Yes, well, life is a chess game, Ryann. You can either be a pawn or you can be a rook. If I were you right now, I’d castle.”

Before she could utter a response, the line went dead. Ryann swore and tossed the phone onto the bed. Like fine grains of sand slipping through an hourglass, the foundation of everything she believed in was crumbling beneath her. All this time she’d been so quick to blame Vincent Moralli for her father’s murder. How could she have been so blind?

Again, the warning in her father’s letter came back to haunt her:
You’re not safe here. Leave New York.
Henry’s dying words—
Trust no one
—echoed like a symphony in her mind, running on an endless loop.
Oh, God
, she thought,
how can this be happening?
The feeling of betrayal became a bitter poison drowning out Ryann’s rationality. How long had Aiden known the truth? How long had he played her for the fool, letting her believe Moralli was responsible for his father’s crimes?

God help her, she was so naïve. On a whim, she’d handed over the evidence her father had been killed for and Henry had died protecting. How could she have done something as stupid as give that flash drive to the son of her father’s killer? Looking back now, it all made a horrible, twisted sense. It was no coincidence that she’d been hired by Aiden’s mother to find her son. Was this all some big elaborate scheme from the beginning? Had his parents gotten to him before she’d even arrived in Vegas, or had they turned him once he’d arrived home? Was every second they’d been together a lie? Was he working with his parents to get the evidence that would spare his family ruin? Perhaps this was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated plan for Aiden to inject himself so deeply in her life, blinding her with false proclamations of love, so he could woo the evidence from her. If that had been his game, then she lost. Vincent Moralli was right and she was nothing but a pawn. Considering Aiden’s odd, avoidant behavior since she’d handed him the prize, she’d be an even bigger fool to believe anything else.

What if Nikko wasn’t here just to help corner Aiden? What if he was really here to keep tabs on her—to watch her and keep her from putting the pieces together? Pieces that fit so perfectly into place, she couldn’t believe it’d taken her this long and the aid of a man she despised to figure it out.

All these weeks Aiden had been supposedly meeting with the DA and making no progress, when he’d truly been whiling away his days at a strip club. God, she was such a fool! He’d been baiting her, playing her to give up the evidence that would seal his father’s fate. If this wasn’t what it seemed, then why wouldn’t he have told her the truth from the beginning? Why would he keep something as important as the identity of her father’s killer from her?

She couldn’t do this anymore. This pawn was quitting the game and taking the advice her father had given her days ago. She was leaving—leaving this place—leaving New York and going someplace no one would find her. There truly was nothing left for her here. Clinging to the blessed numbness of her anger, Ryann pulled her suitcase from under Aiden’s bed and began emptying her dresser drawers. She didn’t have a lot, and there were precious few things she cared about leaving behind, but her laptop happened to be one of them. Time was of the essence. She didn’t know when Aiden would be back, and she wanted to be gone long before he returned. She didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to give him the opportunity to tell more of his lies and make an even bigger fool out of her.

She zipped the suitcase closed and pulled up the handle, setting it on its wheels. The rollers clacked on the floor with a sharp rap of finality that shattered her breaking heart. If she didn’t leave now, she feared she’d lose it before she got out the door. Grabbing her cell off the bed, she shoved it into her back pocket and rushed down the hall, dragging her luggage along behind her. Every few steps the thing would twist and turn, smacking into the back of her legs. “Dammit,” she cursed, reaching up to swipe away an escaped tear. As she passed the dining room, she paused long enough to snag a pen and paper from the table and scribble a note:

I know the truth. Good-bye.

There wasn’t anything else to say. She didn’t want there to be any confusion as to why she’d left, or for Aiden to feel like he needed to continue the farce by coming to look for her. He got what he wanted. Now it was time to move on. There would be plenty of opportunity to lick her wounds and mourn her broken heart later. Right now, she just needed to go.

Ryann’s grip on her suitcase tightened. She started toward the foyer when the buttons on the keypad outside began to beep. Shit. She was too late. Ryann halted midstep as the door opened.

CHAPTER

 41 

A
iden’s gaze locked on Ryann. As she stared at him, the storm of emotion he saw raging in those emerald eyes scared the hell out of him. Slowly, he dragged his gaze over her, from head to toe, missing nothing—not the glassiness in her eyes or stubborn tilt of her jaw. And certainly not the fucking suitcase clutched in her hand. When his eyes strayed to the luggage, her grip tightened on the handle until her small fingers blanched of color. Tension radiated from her, tactile energy reaching out and snaking around him.

Fuck . . .
was the only half-intelligible thought resonating in his mind at finding her steps from leaving him. Just then the undeniable truth hit him with the force of a sucker punch in the gut.
She knows . . .

His abrupt stop in the doorway caused Nikko to bump into him.
“What the fuck, man?” he grouched, sidestepping Aiden. Then he took
one look at Ryann and halted. “What are you doing, Gingersnap?” Nikko’s naturally gruff baritone suddenly turned soft and cautious, like he was trying to talk her off the ledge. And by the cornered, desperate look in Ryann’s eyes, he’d say she wasn’t far from it.

“So this is it?”
Aiden
asked. The hard edge in his voice betraying none of the emotions raging inside him—desperation, fear, panic—all weak, pathetic sentiments she’d reduced him to.

“Nikko, will you please give us a minute?” she asked quietly.

Del Toro nodded, moving past Aiden who had yet to take another step. As he walked by her, he heard the guy murmur, “Don’t do anything you’re going to regret.”

Yeah, it was a little late for that advice. Aiden waited until he heard Nikko’s door shut before speaking. “I can’t believe you weren’t even going to give me a chance to explain.”

“What is there to explain, Aiden? I know the truth! I know your father had mine killed. What’s worse is that you knew about it and you didn’t tell me.”

Exhaling a frustrated sigh, he closed the door behind him and stepped toward her. It killed him when she countered with one step back. “Fuck, Ryann, it’s not that simple.”

“It
is
that simple, Aiden. I’ve given you everything—my trust, my heart, even my father’s secrets—and in return you betrayed me!”

“Is that what you really think, Ryann? That I betrayed you?” Anger made his voice sharp. This was so much worse than he’d imagined. He knew she’d be upset to discover the truth about his father, but betrayal? That was a pretty nasty word, and one not to be thrown around lightly.

“I thought . . . I thought you loved me.”

“Dammit, Ryann, I do love you.” He took a step toward her and wavered, bracing his hand against the wall to steady himself.
Shit.

“Are you drunk?” Accusation was ripe in her voice.

“No, I’m not drunk.” There was a long silent pause. “All right, maybe I am a little bit,” he growled, realizing now might not be the best time to lie to her. He moved toward Ryann and she leapt back with all the finesse of a skittish colt.

“Where were you tonight? For that matter, where have you been for the last three days?—or the last two weeks?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both.”

“Then we have nothing left to say to each other.”

She started forward, dragging that blasted suitcase behind her—eyes straight ahead, spine rigid, and shoulders back as she marched past him. Aiden wasn’t aware how close to the edge he walked until Ryann shoved him over it—and it wasn’t pretty.

“Oh, sweetheart, we aren’t even close to being finished.” He grabbed her arm, jerking her to a stop and bringing her around until she crushed up against him.

She winced and he bit out a sharp curse, loosening his grip when fear flickered in her eyes.

“Aiden, let me go.” Her voice wavered in her attempt to sound calm and in control—both were a fucking lie.

“Dammit, Ryann, don’t do this . . .” he pleaded.

She jerked back, wresting herself from his grip, only this time he released her. “You say it like I’m the one being unreasonable here. Aiden, you used me. You used me to get my father’s evidence and then you brought it to yours. You’ve been whiling away your days in a strip club while leaving me to believe all this time you’ve been working with the DA. I trusted you.”

Her accusations couldn’t have caught him more off guard if he’d been sucker-punched blindfolded. “That’s what you honestly think I’ve been doing all this time? You believe I would do that to you?” He grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake he wished to God would rattle loose some sense in her. Her doubt, her mistrust, her utter lack of faith in him were like daggers in his heart, but he wouldn’t let her see his pain—his weakness. “Clearly, the shock over discovering the truth about your father has addled your brain.”

Her outraged gasp was accompanied by the sharp crack of her palm connecting with his face. He saw it coming; hell, a part of him even wanted it—welcoming the sting of her anger. It was better than the agony of her betrayal. That she could believe he’d use her to protect his father was worse than any physical blow she could deal him.

Ryann bolted for the door, uncaring of her luggage now, and darted past him. She was quick, but Aiden was quicker and just pissed off enough to be reckless. Her hand was on the door and she was halfway out when he caught her around the waist and hiked her into the air. She was so light, so fragile. Even holding her like this, made something in his heart painfully constrict. It also made something else constrict, and the knowledge of how acutely aware his body was of hers, of how uncontrollable his response was, felt like salt in an open wound. Even now, he wanted her, as hurt and angry and betrayed as he felt, he wanted more than anything to strip her bare and fuck any doubt of his loyalty from her mind.

She let out a startled yelp, then an
oomph
as he deposited her over his shoulder and kicked the door shut.

“Let me go!”

He ignored her cry, her small fists hitting his back as he carted her through the dining room and then into the living room. He was numb to her pain, because his own was too raw, too severe. He knew his words had cut deep, but she’d backed him into a corner, and the fighter in him had come out swinging.

She was making a lot of racket and putting up one hell of a fight. As they entered the hall, Nikko’s bedroom door flew open and the fighter filled the doorway. Aiden wasn’t sure he appreciated the look on that guy’s face, which toggled between wary and protective with a general undertone of
what the fuck do you think you’re doing?

Hell if he knew. He was acting on pure anger and instinct at this point—not a healthy combination.

“Nikko,” Ryann cried, spotting him. “Help me!”

And for a moment, he thought the ex-marine might do just that. Aiden hated the desperation in her voice, and hated even more that she was enlisting the aid of his friend against him.

“Don’t do it, Ryann,” Aiden warned with a growl. “Don’t you pull him into this. Not unless you want to see this night come to blows.”

That simmered her fire a little and she stopped struggling. Aiden shot his friend a
stay the fuck out of this
glare, and thankfully Del Toro let him pass with a warning glower, or things really would have turned ugly. He marched her into his bedroom, kicked the door shut behind him, and unceremoniously dumped her onto his bed.

She shoved her tangle of fiery hair, as hot as her temper, out of her face and glared up at him. “You can’t keep me here!”

Wanna bet?
“Where are you going to go, Ryann? Huh? You think you’re safe out there?” He pointed out the bedroom window. “If you think for one minute that my father doesn’t have someone watching you, that Moralli isn’t tracking your every move, then you’re naïve. So like it or not, until this is over, you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.”

She paled at his verbal assault, but Aiden wasn’t done. He had stellar stand-up and wasn’t about to tap to this woman—or anyone else for that matter. “You want to know why I’ve been avoiding you these last three days? It’s because every time I look at you, it kills me to know that my father is responsible for taking yours away. And if that’s all I can think about when I look at you, how much worse would it be once you knew the truth? I was scared as hell of how you’d react when I told you. But congratulations, Ryann, you’ve far surpassed my expectations.”

And there it was—the confession that shattered the fault line of their relationship, sending it crumbling into the chasm of the great abyss. But he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t stand here and listen to her false accusations. She’d pushed him too far.

The sob that tore from her throat was horrific. He felt the bone-deep sorrow all the way to his soul as she stared at him as if he were a monster—as if he were his father. It killed him, and in that horrible moment, every last one of his fears was realized, and they were far worse than he’d imagined.

Her tears broke him. And despite his anger, despite his pain, he still wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and make this all go away. “Ryann . . .” he sighed and reached for her. She flinched away from his touch and rolled to her side, giving him her back as she surrendered to her own grief. He didn’t know what else to do. There was nothing he could say. He’d already said too much and far more cruelly than he ever should have.

Sweat poured off Aiden’s brow as he timed his punches with the heavy bag.
Fff-fff-fff . . . Fff-fff-ffft . . .
Again and again he drove his fist into the bag, on the cusp of exhaustion, but his thoughts would not clear. Fighting had once been his solace, his mental break where he became 100 percent focused—100 percent in control—where his mind would concentrate on nothing but the next combination of strikes, the next sequence of moves that would bring down his opponent. In here, the outside world would fade away. Nothing mattered but the next submission, the next win. But peace would not come—not for him, not tonight, maybe not ever again.

His anger shredded him from the inside out, and no matter how much he pushed and abused his body, nothing could purge his heartache from his soul. It was worse than he’d imagined. When Aiden came home tonight, prepared to tell Ryann the truth about his father, never once had the thought entered his mind that she might already know. And even worse, that she might believe he had anything to do with the conspiracy.

How could she . . . After everything he’d done for her? How could she think, for even a second, that he’d use her, that he’d betray her to his father? He’d expected her to be upset when she learned the truth, but never once had he thought she might doubt his intentions or his integrity. The blow was a fatal wound dealt to his pride, one he wasn’t sure he’d recover from anytime soon, not after everything he’d sacrificed for her. And he sure as hell wasn’t about to stand there and defend himself when she’d already judged him guilty. He’d be damned if he was going to hand her his balls as well as his heart.

And what could he really tell her, anyway? Nothing. What Aiden had done, turning the flash drive over to the DA and the FBI, he couldn’t tell her—he couldn’t tell anyone. Not until this was over, and by then it would probably be too late. The damage was already done. The accusations were already made, the hurt and betrayal ran too deep. If Ryann truly loved him, she would have believed in him. Fuck, she could have at least given him a chance to explain instead of trying to run out on him. If he’d been five minutes later, he would have come home to find her gone.