Honeymoon To Die For (31 page)

Understandable. Her day had been a lot worse than his.

When he parked in front of the family home, Ryder lifted a still-sleeping Bianca into his arms and carried her into the house past a distressed Edward. Ryder waved him off with a shake of his head, never stopping until he laid Bianca on the bed. Once his eyes adjusted to the dark room he slipped her strappy sandals off and flipped them to the side.

Bianca didn’t stir.

Ryder unbuttoned her blouse and eased her limp body out of the sleeves. A silky beige tank top glowed in the dark. No bra. His mouth dried at the thought that she’d been wearing only this beneath her clothes all day. He checked as he unzipped the side zipper and slid her skirt off, to make sure she had on panties. Yes, and they barely covered anything.

The only reason he’d be able to catch any sleep tonight would be due to pure exhaustion.

He pulled the covers over her and kissed her hair.

Going back to prison had never been a consideration when he agreed to this mission. But now remaining free was an absolute. He could not walk back into a cell where he couldn’t protect Bianca. And before he left, Ryder had to know that she would be safe. That someone would not continue to target her once he was gone.

He’d risk anything, except her.

CHAPTER 30

Chatton leaned over the laptop on her hotel desk and reviewed the electronic files she’d paid dearly for, but quality intel didn’t come cheap. She read through Van Dyke shipping logs for three international weapons dealers.

Three highly suspicious operations.

She was familiar with all of them from her work with MI6, and from having gathered every speck of intel she could on her uncle’s death. He’d traveled to the US under the guise of a winter ski vacation in Colorado, and there he’d been killed. A week after the shooting, the media moved on to something new and his story fell to the side.

Local law enforcement still held the case open and the FBI had gotten involved since Abbot had been a British diplomat, but there’d been nothing to indicate his trip had any political or business significance.

Most telling had been his clean hotel room.

Professionally clean
. Operative clean
.

No housekeeping staff sanitized a room that way.

Whoever killed Abbot had removed everything pertinent to his real reason for coming to the US. Chatton had arrived too late to find anything of use at the hotel. His briefcase had been gone through and there were no fingerprints on the sides, only the handle. Her uncle had always lifted his briefcase by the sides when he placed it on a desk to work. She could see it in her mind clearly as she went over it again and again.

She lifted the shipping documents her uncle
might
have had in his briefcase, given his real mission in the US, which she’d figured out after combing through his electronic files. She hadn’t been able to connect the documents to anything specific until J. K. Kearn was killed. Kearn’s name in the news had triggered a memory from her uncle’s notes, and she’d gone back through them. They showed Kearn Industries as a serious potential threat to Van Dyke’s hold on a significant Dubai arms dealer’s business.  

Still, none of that had gelled until Ryder Van Dyke was arrested for shooting J. K. Kearn. She’d spent a considerable amount of money for evidence that proved Ryder was the shooter—evidence law enforcement often didn’t bother to obtain—but nothing had panned out.

If she believed Van Dyke had killed her uncle, she’d have grabbed him by now for a private discussion that would involve his pain tolerance level, but Van Dyke’s case stank worse than spoiled cod.

He was not the shooter.

Too many inconsistencies between
his
character profile up until the Kearn killing and the profile of the person who could—and would—have made that hit. Did The General really believe Van Dyke had committed the murder?

Or was The General trying to screw with Chatton?

Not much of an effort if this was the best he could do.    

Nothing beyond circumstantial evidence against Ryder Van Dyke had surfaced.

But then he’d walked out of prison a free man.

Chatton scrolled further, again cross-referencing financial records of three dealers. One in Dubai, one in Germany and one in Turkey. The one thing they had in common was buying from Van Dyke Enterprises, which wasn’t that strange.

Kearn Industries sold to two of them, but had not been able to broker a deal with Dubai. After giving that one closer scrutiny, Chatton had found a strange pattern in the Dubai arms dealer’s buying habits.

Nothing in the report had flagged any illegal activity, but the financial records were a whole different story.

Dubai was paying for more inventory than the arms dealer was receiving.

That pointed a suspicious finger at Van Dyke Enterprises for Kearn’s killing and would warrant an FBI investigation.

What if the FBI had decided to take advantage of Ryder’s facing a death penalty or life in prison and made him an offer no one in that position would refuse?  

Taking that one step further, what if the person who killed Kearn had also killed her uncle over a conflict related to an arms agreement? Someone inside VDE.

Chatton had a task for Ryder Van Dyke.

If Ryder was truly a free man who had not killed Kearn and his new wife had cut her ties to the FBI, then this information would never reach him.

Ryder had been working with Slye Temp when he was arrested. All Chatton had to do was feed this information to Slye Temp and see if it went anywhere. If Ryder was working undercover, Chatton was sure Slye Temp would be involved since Sabrina Slye had hired Ryder an attorney and stood by him throughout his time in prison.

If Ryder got his hands on this information, he’d have to put two and two together to see the possible lead on who had framed him. A person who would not stand by and allow Kearn to knock VDE out of a thirty million dollar deal, over half of which was tax-free money sent to an offshore account.

Ryder would prove his innocence if he was still under the FBI’s thumb, and that would lead Chatton to the person behind her uncle’s killing.

She downloaded everything onto a memory stick and tucked it inside the zippered sleeve of her leather jacket. She grabbed her motorcycle helmet, sliding it on.

With temperatures in the fifties, this would be a prime night to get out of Buckhead and take a ride down to College Park. The sooner she got this info into Slye Temp’s hands, the sooner she’d have her answer on Ryder Van Dyke.

CHAPTER 31

Ryder grunted when Bianca snuggled up against him. Rubbing that soft backside against his throbbing erection.

He’d turned down the room’s air conditioning because she’d been shivering earlier, a delayed shock reaction maybe.

The warm room should have prevented his having a half-naked woman in his arms. Yes, he could have rolled her back over away from him, but what fool would turn down holding
this
woman? He’d never said he was a saint and doubted even a real saint would back away from Bianca in a silk top and panties.

Not if he was a male saint.

Ryder rubbed his fingers in lazy strokes over her arm. She had creamy soft skin. He’d made love to more women than he wanted to count when he’d been in college, most of whom he’d forgotten as quickly as they’d forgotten him.

Ryder couldn’t recall when he’d spent so much time in bed with a desirable woman and not ended up completely naked.

And sweaty.

She moved her arm, adjusting her position against him.

His hand fell to her hip just as she shifted her bottom. Again.

He clenched his teeth until she settled. Every brush of her sweet buns against his erection reminded him this was only going to get more painful if he didn’t move away.

He must have a masochistic streak he never realized, because he stayed right where he was. Unable to keep from touching her, he caressed her hip and played with the edge of her bikini panties. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing he could make use of the monster erection tenting his boxers.

Life had dealt his heart enough blows. There should be no soft spot left. A tested and battered muscle normally strengthens to rock hard, impervious to assault.

But his abused heart had softened where
Bianca was concerned.
 

Enough that he couldn’t take advantage of this and seduce her. It would be so easy. He’d seen the flare in her eyes when they’d danced near the fire.

She smelled fresh and womanly. After confinement in a prison cell with a convict who’d never been introduced to soap or deodorant, Ryder had sworn that once he was out, he’d never share space with another person.

On his next whiff of Bianca, he closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of a woman in his arms.
This
woman, who charged into battle, got in his face when she thought he needed to be taken down a notch, and kissed like an angel.

Staying turned on constantly around her was miserable, but he wouldn’t intentionally use her or hurt her.

Or let anyone else.

Over the last five months, Ryder had thought the word mercy had vanished from his vocabulary. But then the guard in the prison yard had suffered a heart attack.

Look where mercy had gotten him.

That he still possessed a sliver of conscience actually surprised him.

Bianca rolled over to face him and snuggled up to his chest. He draped an arm across her, his hand touching the exposed skin on her back. She tossed a leg over his thigh.

Sweat beaded on his forehead.

With another shift, she barely missed brushing up against the bulge in his shorts.

Close call there.

But then she squirmed as if trying to get inside him, but the action turned into her pocketing his erection between him and her heat.

He had ten seconds to either get the hell away from her or peel off those panties.

Ryder grasped her at the waist and lifted her off of him. Cursing softly, he dumped her gently on the mattress and got up in the semi-dark room, headed for the bathroom.

“Are you up?” Bianca called out, her voice thick with sleep.

Oh hell yes I’m up. And steel-hard
.

“Ryder, uhm, everything okay? Anything I can do?”

He paused, let out a frustrated breath and said, “No. Go back to sleep.”  
Or I’ll finish what you accidentally started.
 

Bianca was here for several reasons. Sating his raging libido was nowhere on the FBI’s list.

Hands off from now on. Hands off, lips off, in fact all body parts off.

She made a pained sound as he was closing the bathroom door. He shoved it open and stepped over to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Then why had she said that through clenched teeth? He leaned a hand down on the bed to support his weight. “Tell me the truth.”

“I’m just achy.”

He could appreciate that. “Where?”

“Everywhere.”

He only ached in one place. “You want some more aspirin?”

“Not until I eat something or I’ll be sick. And I’m not hungry right now so don’t bother anyone. Sorry, just go back to what you were doing. I didn’t mean to make noise. I’m fine. I’ll deal.”

That was classic Bianca. She would rather be in pain than inconvenience someone. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

Ryder stepped into the bathroom and twisted the faucets on the deep Jacuzzi tub. It was oversized to fit the six feet of height he’d reached by his junior year of high school. He drummed his fingers on the edge of the marble while he waited on the tub to fill, then added foaming bath crystals. He cut the faucet off and left the nightlight on to keep the bathroom semi-dark.

When he leaned down to ease his hands under her back and knees then lift her into his arms, Bianca hardly stirred. Should he let her go back to sleep?

Another groan of misery escaped her.

He headed for the steaming Jacuzzi.

At the tub, he stepped over the rim, settled down into the hot water and pushed the button to start the water jets.

Bianca jerked awake. “What are you doing?”  

“Soaking away some of your pain.”  He positioned her between his legs and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her back against his chest.  

A completely different moan slipped out this time that sounded like pleasure.

“See? Doesn’t that feel better?” he murmured against her neck and kissed her skin.

“But we have our clothes on.”

“You want the other option?”

For a heartbeat he thought she might say yes. What he wouldn’t give to hear
yes
right now.

“Uh, no.”

“In that case, sit back and enjoy.”

”Ryder, I can feel you against my back. It’s obvious that this can’t be fun for you.”

“Ignore it. I’m trying to.”  

Bianca evidently was in serious need of soothing, because she melted back against him. She didn’t complain in body language or in words. Blasts of warm water charged against them from all angles, easing muscle aches and bruises.

It did nothing for the throbbing pain in his groin.

She wiggled that damned bottom again, rubbing his already aching erection. A wave of heat rocketed up his center and threatened to blow the top of his head off.

Both of them.

Ryder was going to grind his molars into dust at this rate.

Another stroke like that last one and he’d be the first person to enjoy this party.

She’d kept him in a state of constant arousal since the minute he’d stood next to her in the strategic planning session and got a deep breath of female.

He forced his thoughts away from his discomfort and focused on easing hers. He massaged her arms, working his fingers under the straps of her top when he got to her shoulders. She angled her head to each side, giving him access to her tight muscles, an unspoken permission to continue.

At nineteen, Ryder had dated a professional masseuse who taught him how to touch a woman in all the right places. Moves that would guarantee him access to the
hot
spot.