Ryder walked into the Seattle office of Hendrix Attorney at Law and took a step back. His father sat at his desk, tapping the end of a pen in a smooth rhythm. Ryder closed the door behind him, and stood with his hands folded in front of his waist. His father wanted something, but what could it be? He traced his mind, trying to figure out if he had left anything undone, but nothing stuck out. “Hello, sir.”
His father leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “Do you know who Greg McCannon is?”
“He’s a reporter covering the case.”
“What else do you know about him?”
Ryder shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing. He just calls us all the time wanting info.”
Mr. Hendrix sat up and folded his hands on the desk. “He’s got some damaging information on us.”
Ryder sat in the chair opposite of his father; he couldn’t move his gaze from him. “How?”
“It will be taken care of. Go to the hotel and spend the day with your wife. The council will bring the information.”
Ryder stood. “How did he find out?”
In a low tone his father said, “it will be taken care of. Now go.”
* * * *
Her fingers rested at the end of the keys as her eyes scanned the page. The statement I hate him filled the screen. Had she really spent the last ten minutes filling a page with those few words? Tears pricked her eyes. Was there really no way out? Couldn’t she at least try? Her family would help her. But Taylor's warning had created such a fear in her, she didn’t know if she should take one step towards freedom. But she knew one thing. Society would never support her. They'd simply see her as a gold digger, and a social climbing human who had dug her clungs into am Alpha and then wasn't even grateful. What had she gotten herself into? She had put herself in this mess when she decided to ignore her parents warnings to stay away from werewolves, and cling to the monster.
The door opened. Alecia snapped the laptop shut.
“Alecia,” she heard. Ryder walked down the hallway into the living room of the hotel room. He took his jacket off and draped it over a loveseat. His dark bangs swished to the side, highlighting his stormy gray eyes. Not one ounce of tenseness radiated from him, so maybe she was safe tonight.
“You’re home early.” But why was he home? Court cases never took breaks until they ended.
“Yeah, there wasn’t much to talk about.” He smiled. “Let’s go get some lunch.”
She nodded and slipped the computer under the couch out of sight. She would have to make sure the file was deleted later.
An hour later, Alecia sat opposite of Ryder at a restaurant, listening to him talk about a game. She didn’t notice the waitress had picked up their plates until she heard her ask, “would you like anything else?”
Alecia looked up at the woman. “Do you have German Chocolate Cake?”
“Get a bowl of fruit,” Ryder said. “You don’t want to get chubby.”
The waitress’s lips snarled upward as if he had called her chubby. Thankfully, Ryder hadn’t noticed.
“I’m fine,” Alecia said.
The waitress shook her head as she walked away. Everyone saw it. Even strangers. What took her so long? Now she understood why abused women were so fooled by their mates. One moment they played prince charming, treating a girl like royalty and then the next a monster hunting the princess. Never again would she judge a victim.
“Good.” Ryder pulled some cash out of his wallet and dropped it on the table. She stood from her seat, and waited until he placed her coat on her shoulders. She had to grind her feet into the floor, when his fingers bumped her shoulders. She placed her arms in his and they walked out of the restaurant.
Ryder slipped a red pill into the dark wine, swaying the glass, so the liquid swished, dissolving the pill. He walked over to his beautiful wife, who sat on the couch, wearing a light blue cotton dress that accented her curves, and nipped just enough to show the top of her breasts. A dress he only allowed her to wear inside when no one else was around. It was too provocative, and would arouse other men’s interests. And he could have no one thinking of her. He handed her the glass as she stared at the TV. A documentary about puffins filled the screen as the black birds swished through the water, snapping at small fish. She took several small sips, closing her eyes, her black lashes lying across her creamy cheeks. When she had finished, she set the glass down, and leaned her head against the back of the couch. Her eyes took on a dazed look. The drug was beginning to work. This drug had brought her into his arms, and now it would keep her innocent of his life.
Ryder wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head onto his shoulder. He smiled as her body relaxed into his. It had been a while. Mostly she stiffened when he came near her. He would need to work on things, but he hadn’t had much time lately to nourish their relationship. He would later. She wasn’t going anywhere. He held her until she fell asleep and then carried her to the bedroom, lying down next to her. He caressed her cheeks, loving every curve of her delicate face. She was precious to him; worth more than anything. Guilt filled him. He needed to control his anger in regards to her; get her to do what he wanted without hurting her, but she needed to stop being so stubborn – to follow his lead.
He brushed a strand of hair that rested against the pillow, the chestnut tresses covered it in rippling waves. The cell phone he had placed on the bed vibrated. He reached behind his back and picked up the phone, flipped it open and read: “I’m here.” He closed the phone and kissed his wife’s cheek right before he snapped his fingers twice in front of her face. She didn’t move, or flinch.
He slipped from the bed, put on a pair of slacks and walked out the door, locking it behind him. He turned and took a step back. A candlelight flickered over a silhouette in complete black. “Let yourself in.”
The man held out a brown folder and a pair of gloves. Ryder took the gloves and slipped them on over his long fingers. He grabbed the folder and walked to the kitchen table with the slender but muscular man following behind him. Pushing the table mat off the table, Ryder sat down and searched through the folder, pulling out records of phone conversations between suspicious individuals and Richard, and details of weapons to be handed over, and setting them to the side.
“Is the missus asleep?” Sose, the man who worked for the council asked, his voice never reaching above a deep drawl. “She will not wake. I gave her something.”
Sose nodded.
When Ryder had a tall order of papers separated from the rest, he closed the folder and gave them to Sose. He then gave him the other stack, and said, “destroy.”
Sose nodded and waited as Ryder returned to the bedroom. The man would disappear from the hotel room as easily as he’d slipped in.