Wildcard: Volume Three

Chapter One

Ryder

What the fuck does he have on her?

I’m sitting on the end of the bed, trying to pull myself together before Scarlett arrives. For a cool two hundred thousand, Tony is gone. Out of her life. But the niggling thoughts in the back of my head refuse to let me drop this.

What is she hiding from me?

I can’t just ask her—not without explaining that I’ve paid him off. And she would be pissed if she knew, especially since she’d made it clear that she didn’t want me involved. Besides, I don’t want her thinking she’s indebted to me in any way.

I pick up my phone and call her. She should be here by now. The last I heard she was on her way to pick up Jake after her work meeting. That had been hours ago. It doesn’t take that long to get out there and back. Maybe I’m worrying for nothing, but with her psycho ex still sniffing around, I don’t want to take a chance.

The phone rings through to voicemail. I click on text, and type out a message.

Me: Everything okay?

Half hour later and I still haven’t heard from her. Anxiety shifts in my stomach as I run my hand through my hair. Something isn’t right . . . What if he’s gone after her? With two hundred grand in his account, who knows what he’s capable of? He could’ve kidnapped both of them and been halfway to fucking Mexico by now.

Grabbing my keys, I leave the hotel and flag down a taxi. I give the driver her address and wait impatiently as he navigates through the thick evening traffic. Does every fucking person in this city drive? It feels as if there are more cars on the road than there are people in Chicago.

“Can you hurry it up a bit?” I say, impatiently glancing at my phone.

Dark eyes narrow at me through the rear-vision mirror.

“Are you going to drive this around for me when I lose my license? No? Then sorry, I stick to the speed limit.” He speaks in a thick Spanish accent.

I scowl at him and return to my phone, trying to think of who I can call who might have some idea of where she is. I laugh, because there is nobody. Apart from Tony—and Jake—I know nobody in her life.

She has no family, but she must have friends. How could I not have asked her this shit—especially with her wanker of an ex hanging around? I don’t trust that bloke in the slightest.

I don’t even know where she fucking works. What kind of boyfriend am I? Wait—did I just call myself her boyfriend? We haven't really discussed what we are to each other, which is weird, because after I saw her with Tony I knew I wanted to be with her, and only her.

Maybe if we'd had the Talk, then I might know a little bit more about her. What does she do when she's not working? Who are her friends? I know nothing, and I'm embarrassed by it. She could totally disappear off the face of the earth, and I'd never fucking know what happened to her. Just the thought of not seeing her again . . . I shudder. I don't even want to think about it.

The taxi pulls up outside her house. I throw a few notes at the driver and jump out. He screeches off, leaving me alone to ponder my next move.

I glance at the empty driveway and the closed drapes. I can already tell there is nobody home, but I walk up and knock on the door anyway. Silence greets me. I reach out and try the handle. It's locked.

Spying the side gate, I walk around the path. It’s also locked, but low enough for me to jump over. Shoving my hands in my pockets, I walk the circumference of the house until I reach the back door. I’m not expecting it to be unlocked, so it doesn’t surprise me when the handle doesn’t turn.

Fuck. I glance around. I walk over to the garden bed lining the side fence and pick up a rock. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but I can't think of any alternative. I wince, and slam the rock against the panel of glass that lines the doorframe.