THIRTEEN
With my left arm stuck back in a sling, I use my right to hold myself up as I lean against one of the pillars leading into the restaurant.
But instead of walking in I'm facing the street. The long white dress Ryder had me wear is stained in the front-this is why I don't usually wear white-and my feet are killing me from standing in these heels for way too long.
The slight breeze has my hair blowing in my face but I don't have a free hand to brush it away since I'm using that arm to keep my balance as I keep all pressure off my right leg.
Red and blue lights dance across my field of vision as I stare-or rather-glare out at the half a dozen police cars and standard FBI vehicles parked on the street in front of the restaurant.
In case you haven't guessed it, this is all Ryder's fault.
He comes walking up to me after speaking with the police chief, his hands stuffed deep into his jean pockets.
He still has his-sorry-my sunglasses on, which makes no sense since it's dark out, and there's a small cut above his eyebrow, his shirt is slightly wrinkled now and his hair is a complete mess.
He runs a hand through his hair as he approaches me, giving me a good view of the bruises and cuts on his knuckles. He comes and stands next to me and gives me an 'innocent' smile.
If I could cross my arms at him I would. Instead, I opt for a flat look and a raised eyebrow.
"So..." He trails off as he gives another 'innocent' smile. "Want to go get pizza?"
His tone of voice makes him seem like he actually feels guilty, but I know Ryder and he may appear guilty on the outside, but on the inside, he's throwing himself a party.
I shake my head in exasperation. "Can't I go anywhere without a fight starting?" I mutter to myself. If Ryder hears me, he wisely keeps quiet.
"So...is that a yes to pizza?" He looks at me hopefully, and I know this is as close as he's going to get without outright apologizing, which I don't want him to do.
He's not sorry about what he did. He's sorry he did it in front of me and ruined the dinner we were having. Honestly, I don't care.
Probably best to explain.
2 hours earlier...
"RYDER!" I roar. I'm going to murder him...and Devin. Though it is mostly Ryder's fault. Oh well, Devin is guilty by association. "DEVIN!"
"Calm down woman. I can hear you from the third floor." Ryder pretends to clean out his ears with his fingers. I give him a deadpan look.
"I'm in trouble aren't I?" He asks when he sees my face. I nod in response.
"Any chance I'm going to get away with it?" I shake my head no.
"Are you sure I did it?" I answer his last question with a glare.
Suddenly he frowns as he takes in my appearance. "Why aren't you dressed?"
I glance down at my tank top and jeans in confusion and then up at him. He's finally wearing a button-up blue shirt tucked into a pair of dark jeans, his hair is combed and styled, and he's wearing a pair of dress shoes. A suit jacket is thrown over the chair beside him.
"I am dressed," I state. "And where are you planning on going?"
"To dinner with you and my parents." He says slowly as if he's speaking with a child, I gape at him.
"You still want me to go with you to dinner when I can barely make it around this house without help? I'm kind of still recovering from two bullet holes, a couple broken ribs, and enough bruises and scrapes to make me look like I've bathed in glass."
He rolls his eyes at me like I'm the insane one. "The way I see it, you can either stay here where you can't go five minutes without needing, for whatever reason to get up and move around which clearly is not helping your healing process at all. Or you can come with me and sit down for a few hours while talking and eating."
He tilts his head back and forth as if weighing the options. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure taking you to dinner will help more with healing rather than you 'sitting' around here. Get dressed I left a dress on your bed."
"Please tell me you didn't change the code to get into my room again." I groan, running my hand over my face. His lip twitches.
"Not this time." He says. "Oh, here." He holds out a small slip of paper.
"What's this?" I question as I unfold it and glance at the numbers scribbled in hastily on it.
"I looked through the box and I found that inside her necklace. I didn't even know that thing opened up."
"Neither did I," I mutter as my eyes scan across the numbers.
"What is it?" Ryder's impatience get's the better of him.
I shake my head. "I'm not sure." I slip the paper into my pocket. "I'll look over it when we get back. Or better yet, I'll bring it along and ask your dad."
Our conversation is interrupted by Nicky.
"There's a raccoon a few floors up that won't quit crying," Nicky complains. "I don't even know why. She keeps crying out between her sobs something about not liking getting shot at."
Nicky lets out a scoff. "She was trying to talk to me like I'd share her sympathies. As if." Nicky shakes her head and grabs a beer from the refrigerator. "Anyways, I've temporarily solved the problem." She takes a swing from the beer. "You'll probably be hearing screams in a little bit."
"Aren't you too young to be drinking?" Ryder chides her before I have a chance to ask her what she did.
Nicky gives him a droll look before chugging half of it down. "Twenty-two." She states simply in regards to her age.
"You act like a spoiled ten-year-old."
"Must've already spent way too much time with you. Hopefully, your ugliness isn't contagious as well."
Between Ryder's snarky remarks and Nicky's sharp tongue, I should probably intervene before it goes too far.
"Says the girl wearing leopard print jeans."
"I'll have you know these are my favorite pair of pants."
"That explains a lot."
"So does your lack of intelligence. I feel as if I'm speaking to a rock."
"Rocks are pretty."
"Not one covered in fungus."
"Ryder," I interject just as he opens his mouth to retort. He was planning on saying something nasty judging by the fury in his eyes.
I'm honestly genuinely surprised he hasn't dropped a curse word yet.
"I don't know why, and I don't know how you even managed it," I start and he looks at me confused. "But you're putting the pool back to the way it was. Nobody has the need for a pool of jello."
He smiles a smile that shows how proud of himself he is. "Haven't you ever seen Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs?"
I look at him with confusion. "No. Why?"
He shrugs and hides a smile. "No reason."
I shake my head. "Well, you're fixing it," I tell him.
***
"If this dress gets ruined I hope you know it's your fault."
"How would be my fault that you ruined your dress?"
"You're the one who wanted me to wear it."
"White looks good on you."
"White stains easily."
"Only if you're not careful."
"I'm out with you, you're the one who's not careful."
"I take offense to that." Ryder pulls out my chair for me and I take a seat, he slides into the chair next to me, checking his phone as it beeps. "My parents are parking right now." I nod in response and pick up the menu, quickly glancing over it.
"You look nice," Ryder says as he glances over his menu as well.
"Thanks."
"I'd say beautiful but that sling and those bruises make you look kind of ugly."
I punch him in the arm and he laughs while I shoot him a playful glare.
"I'm going to assume my son deserved that."
I smile at Ryder's father, Jeff, as he takes a seat across from me, his wife Dina, sitting across from Ryder.
"That and more." I agree with a chuckle. Jeff laughs. Ryder scoffs.
"I've missed having you around." He says.
"Well, I'm always busy now. Besides Ryder conveniently forgets to invite me over whenever I'm in town."
"I do no such thing." Ryder protests.
Our conversation continues for a long time while we catch up with each other, the waiter comes by and we order our food and drinks, all the while continuing our conversation. No one mentions the fact that I'm in a sling, but I can see they want to. Though I'm glad they don't. I'd really rather not relive it.
I pull out the piece of paper in Lily's handwriting and pass it to Jeff. "What do you make of this?"
He studies the paper silently for a while before addressing me. "The first few lines look like coordinates." He says thoughtfully. "But I don't know what the last line of numbers is." He passes the slip of paper back to me.
"New mission?" He asks with interest.
"More like, old one." He raises his eyebrow and gives me a questioning look. "Long story."
"You have too many of those."
I freeze and I sense Ryder tense up beside me.
"Room for one more?" Mac questions, his eyes never leaving my face, his question directed to me but before I can answer...Ryder does.
The sound of something slamming on the table gets all our attention. I turn to look at the gun now resting on the table in front of Ryder.
"Ryder!" Dina chides with a gasp, shocked he would behave this way.
Mac's eyes narrow at Ryder. "Would you really shoot your own cousin?"
"I would." His voice is flat and cold.
"You're an FBI Agent." Mac states. "You can't do that."
Ryder passes me his badge. "Hold this for a second." He says to me before turning back to his cousin.
"Now I'm not." He says with a shrug, getting to his feet and cracking his knuckles. It's a miracle no one else in the restaurant has noticed any of this yet.
"What are you two doing? We're supposed to be having a nice dinner. Ryder let your cousin sit down." Dina hisses, trying to keep the boys from fighting.
It's too late for that.
"Not unless I glue nails to the chair first."
Mac looks around Ryder to me. "I'm sorry." He mutters and Ryder shoves him back a few steps.
"Don't talk to her." He says, fury shining in his eyes. "If you were really sorry you would've stopped Lydia."
"You know I couldn't."
"But you could've tried."
Present...
Everything happened really fast after that. Ryder called Mac a few...interesting names and pretty soon they were throwing punches. In between all this, several things were spilled on my dress when Mac was thrown into the table.
Ryder won, in case that isn't obvious.
He also called the police and FBI and had Mac arrested. His dad was all for it when he found out what had happened...but his dad is also the director of the FBI.
"I brought you a change of clothes." I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and I see his smile widen into a more genuine one.
"I'm winning you over for that pizza aren't I?" He says smugly.
I roll my eyes at him and push off against the wall, the movement causing me to temporarily try to level out my breathing as pain shoots through my rib cage.
"Your parents going to join us?" I ask as we make our way towards his car.
He shakes his head. "Nah, apparently Dad wants to personally interrogate my cousin." He snickers. "Sucks to be him."
"Thank you Ryder."
"No problem." He puts his arm over my shoulders as we walk towards the car. "We should make a tradition out of this."
"Out of what?"
"Making sure you can't go anywhere without a fight starting."
I roll my eyes at him. "I'd rather not."
"Don't worry, I'll start the fight at the pizza place, you don't even have to do anything except cheer me on."
"Please don't."
"I'm not making any promises." He winks at me.