I unlock the door and open it. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he murmurs, looking down at my pajamas. “Can I come in?”
“Sure,” I say a little warily, opening the door wider and stepping back. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, closing the door behind him. He sits in the chair by the desk, and glances up at me. “Today was intense.”
“It was,” I agree, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The second raid came up with nothing, and still no sign of Elizabeth. The man from the first house is now in custody, but he’s not talking.
“Do you think they’ll let me interrogate him?” he asks, dead serious.
“Probably not,” I say, feeling amused. “Let’s see how the detectives do first before we offer our services.”
“We?”
“You think I don’t want a piece of him too?” I say, arching my brow. “And if you’re going in there, so am I.”
“Why?” he asks, studying me. “I’d rather you not see that side of me.”
“She’s my family,” I fire back, brow furrowing.
“And she’s my friend,” he says, surprising me.
He knows Elizabeth?
“Why didn’t you mention anything about that before?” I ask. “How do you know her? Is that why you came on this case?”
It all suddenly makes sense. He isn’t here because Faye made him, or because he has some kind of hero complex. He’s here because he knows Elizabeth and cares about her. I rack my brain, wondering if she’s ever mentioned a biker, or if I’ve ever heard the name Ranger before, but come up with nothing. We didn’t grow up living near each other though and went to different schools, so she knows a lot of people I don’t.
“You didn’t ask,” he says, playing it off. “We used to be friends. We actually went to high school together. I haven’t seen her in years, but when I saw her photo I knew I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. So, yes, that’s why I’m here. This isn’t just personal for you—it is for me too. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here otherwise. You might be her blood, but that doesn’t mean that I care any less. I won’t rest until she’s safe.”
We share a look, a moment of understanding passing between us. Neither of us will quit until we have her back; we’re both on the same wavelength. I never thought I’d have something in common with a biker, but here we are, in my hotel room, basically partners. It goes to show that you never know where life will take you. All you can do is hold on for the ride.
“If you hadn’t found that trapdoor today . . .”
“But I did,” he says, moving his gaze from me to around the room. “I should be tired, but I’m not. Do you want to watch a movie or something?”
My eyes widen at the offer, taken aback. “Ummm, sure,” I say, handing him the remote. “Why don’t you choose something?”
Is he going to watch on the bed with me? Is this appropriate? We did kiss—it’s not like that’s appropriate, but I don’t regret it either. I don’t know what to think or say, so I just move to one side of the bed and watch as he puts on the TV and selects a movie channel. When he moves to the bed, on the other side, I hold my breath. He, on the other hand, acts like this is something we do every day. He makes himself comfortable lying on the bed, flicking through the channels again when apparently the one he chose wasn’t entertaining enough.
“Any requests?” he asks, not paying me any attention. He still has his shoes on, so his feet are off the bed, but every other part of him is flat on the mattress.
“I’m easy,” I reply without thinking, then cringe when I realize what I just said. “You can watch whatever you want; it’s fine.”
Nice save.
However, Ranger doesn’t let it go. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“Easy?” he asks, lip twitching. He finally looks from the screen to me. “Because I don’t think you are.”
“Really?” I say, turning my body toward him. “What am I, then? Have you already figured me out in the little time you’ve known me? I must be pretty simple, then . . . hmmm?”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Fuck, Jo. You’re not simple—no woman is—but you definitely aren’t. You’re strong, yet you have a soft, vulnerable side that I want to protect. You don’t know what you want. You think that you don’t need anyone else, but you do. You love hard. You love everyone hard except yourself. You—you just get by, working yourself into the ground and not giving yourself what you need, what every fuckin’ human needs.”
I blink slowly. “I don’t need anyone else. I’ve gotten on just fine, thank you. I don’t need love, or an epic romance, or whatever else other women want, because it’s not in the cards for me. I haven’t even had sex in over a year!”
“Do you make yourself come?” he asks, scanning my face and waiting for my reply.
I swallow. “Ranger. I feel like we need to have a talk about boundaries.”
“I have none,” he says, shrugging, his expression blank. “Now answer the question.”
“Yes, I do,” I say, cheeks heating. “I’m a grown-ass woman, what do you think?”
“I think that you have needs.”
“That I can take care of on my own,” I say, lifting my chin.