Quadruple Duty

At this her gaze shifted in my direction. Her expression was still stoic.

“Sammara, I just said—”

“I know what you said,” she barked coldly. “And I appreciate it. But what’s done is done. Hell, I don’t even know if we can get him back.”

“I’ll get him back,” I said confidently.

“There you go again,” she said. “You. You, not me. You.”

“That’s what I said, I’ll—”

“No, Ryan. I’ll call Edward. I’m the one running the reno. I’m the one who—”

“Got her ass grabbed?”

Sammara’s expression went ice cold. Her full, beautiful lips went so tight they looked more like a line drawn on her face.

Just stop talking Ryan.

I leaned back, hanging an arm out the window. It had stopped raining the moment we left the driveway. I regretted not telling her to turn around so I could go back and get my bike.

A long minute ticked by. Two minutes. I opened my mouth to say something, then abruptly stopped.

Maybe you should quit while you’re behind.

There was something about this girl that made me question myself. I didn’t like that part at all. At the same time though, I had a deep admiration for her. She could’ve just nodded and tried to placate me or even bury the fight in the past. Instead, she didn’t hold back. Whatever this woman said was exactly how she felt.

I respected that.

Our silence lasted all the way to Golden Star, where they didn’t have an order for Ryan Dunham. They didn’t have an order for Kyle Murphy, or Dakota Bradley either. But when I rolled my eyes and ran down our list of shame-names? I found an order all ready to go for one Richard Head.

Back in the jeep, Sammara silently wound her way back through the city. The roads were still wet, with water pooling on the asphalt. It shone beautifully, reflecting the city lights.

“Listen, they want us to talk,” I said.

Sammara’s face was a little less stern. Still serious, but a tiny bit less angry than before.

“They sent us on this little trip to work things out. So if you’re going to sit there and just—”

I stopped abruptly because something caught my eye. I looked again, in the side-view mirror, and there it was.

A sleek black SUV. Following us.

Might be just coincid—

And another behind it.

Fuck.

“Just what?” Sammara was asking. Her tone was still cold, but apparently now there was room for discussion. “Sit there and just what?”

I didn’t respond. I waited until the next turn… and the SUVs turned with us.

“So you’re gonna go quiet on me now?” she remarked snidely. “Is that it?”

“No.”

“Then talk, Ryan. Let’s figure out why you—”