“I don’t like this.”
Ryker’s cell phone lay on the console as he watched the house across the street. With Braden on speaker, Ryker could focus on who was coming and going.
“I’m not a fan myself, but I think there’s something here,” Ryker replied.
This was his first interaction with Braden since Ryker discovered Laney was expecting. The guilt of his betrayal weighed heavily on his chest. The O’Sheas had been everything to him over the years, and he’d purposely kept his distance from Laney because he knew what would happen if he touched her. Just one touch, that’s all it would’ve taken at any given time for him to snap.
But she’d mouthed off at the party and between her sass and that body-hugging dress, his self-control had finally expired.
Damn, the woman could tempt a saint...not that he was anywhere near that holy. But he’d completely lost it in Miami. Years of pent-up frustration, the fact she’d been receiving threats and not sharing that information, and the way she’d looked in that short black dress had been the combination for his undoing.
“How long are you going to wait?” Braden’s low tone cut through the memories.
Ryker rubbed the penny between his thumb and index finger, hating the way he carried the damn thing around like some good-luck charm. He was pathetic for even still having it, but the reminder of where he came from always needed to be front and center.
“I’ve seen a member of the DeLuca family go in, but nothing else.”
The DeLuca family was known for organized crime. Thugs, actually. They didn’t even compare to the O’Sheas, though Ryker thought some members of law enforcement would lump the two families in the same category...or prison cell.
“What activity has Laney uncovered?” Braden asked.
Ryker raked a hand down his face. “She’s seen some email chatter with several family members discussing moving a package. When she dug a little deeper, she found they have an old trunk in the basement that contains some documents. But we have no clue what they are.”
Ryker didn’t know how the coveted scrolls would’ve ended up hours away from where they were last seen or how they were in a basement belonging to an organized crime family, but this was the strongest lead they’d had in a while. Ryker had followed every tip that had popped up. He’d been to London twice, Mexico, Paris and several US states.
When Patrick passed several months ago, he had one dying request. He wanted the scrolls found and returned to the O’Shea family. He’d tried for years to recover them but to no avail. Ryker fully intended to finish the job...it was the least he could do for the people to whom he owed his life.
“Damn, Laney is calling me,” Braden stated. “Keep me posted no matter what happens or what time it is.”
Laney was calling? Was she okay? Did something happen?
Every time he’d thought of her since Miami, all he could think about was the way she came apart in his arms. She’d been so responsive, so passionate. Now when he thought of her, all he could think was that she was carrying his child. His. Child.
The words didn’t seem real even in his own mind. How the hell was he going to take care of a baby? What did he know? His father had only taught him how to get high, get laid and steal. The essentials of every childhood according to dear ole Dad.
Ryker kept his eyes on the house, but his mind wasn’t on the job. Damn. This was why he never got involved with anyone. His loyalties were with Braden and Mac now. And by default, as their baby sister, Laney. If he was worrying about anyone, especially a woman, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the task at hand. And the task sure as hell wasn’t Laney.
She’d called Braden, not Ryker. That shouldn’t bother him, but it did. There was no denying that he wanted to be the one she called on when she needed anything. But he couldn’t be that deep in her life and keep his distance at the same time.
His mind went into overdrive. If something was going on with the baby, she wouldn’t have called Braden, that much Ryker was sure of.
Ryker disconnected the call. The penny was heavy in his hand. Over the years, he’d tried to tell himself that the souvenir from the best day of his life was ridiculous and childish to keep. Yet each day he left his house, he grabbed his keys and the penny and shoved them in his pocket. He couldn’t seem to let go of his past.
Story of his life.
After another hour of waiting, which brought the grand total up to six, Ryker decided to call it a night. Laney would let him know if more activity came through her. She’d managed to tap into several areas: emails, private messages on social media, a cell phone.
Ryker always marveled at how crazy brilliant she was. She was seriously the brains behind the operation when it came to research and hunting down people. For years, she’d managed to find anything online, while Ryker did the grunt work. They were a team in a sense, but he never wanted to look at things that way. If he did, then he’d have to admit there was a relationship. And even when their dealings had been platonic, he couldn’t analyze things too deeply when it came to Laney.
The woman could make a man forget everything else in this ugly world. She had beauty, grace and a stubborn streak he couldn’t help but admire.
And now she was having his baby.
Pulling himself up straighter in his seat, Ryker brought the engine of his SUV to life. Snow covered the streets and showed no sign of stopping soon. December in New York was just as brutal and unpredictable as in Boston.
Cranking up the heat, he maneuvered through the streets toward the hotel. Another cold hotel. He always booked a suite. Mostly because growing up he’d lived in a one-room dump of an apartment. Now that he could afford to stay anywhere or buy anything he wanted, he fully intended to take advantage.
But he’d never look at another hotel the same after Miami. Laney changed everything.
He couldn’t even wrap his mind around the fact he was going to be a father. What the hell did he know? His own father had used him as a punching bag when he was awake and only half drunk. Ryker never wanted marriage, kids, the minivan experience. He was just fine with the job he had. Though Braden and Mac would never tell him this was a job, to them he was simply a brother, a best friend.
Which made this pregnancy so much harder to comprehend. He couldn’t come to grips with how he should deal with it, so how the hell could he figure out how to tell them?
Laney was such an innocent. They’d worked for years to keep her safe, to keep her behind the scenes. Ryker had made enemies all over the globe. Now that Laney was pregnant, he would have to be twice as diligent about keeping those he cared about safe.
Yeah, he cared about her. Too much. Being ten years older than her, he’d not paid much attention when he first came to the O’Sheas as a teen. Then he’d been out of the house mostly doing grunt work and earning his way in the family, so he didn’t have to go back to his former hellhole.
By the time he’d started coming around the house more often, Laney was a teen herself and he was a bastard for looking at her twice. If Patrick O’Shea had ever thought Ryker was eyeing his daughter, Ryker doubted he’d still be here.
But
