Challenging Ryker (Kringle Security #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Ryker double-checked the address Monica gave him. This couldn't be the right place. The building he was looking at was run down, and that was being generous. More like it was one step away from being condemned; if not, it should've been.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Monica.

"Did you find her?" Monica's voice was full of panic. Not something he was used to from his friend's girlfriend.

"Are you sure you sent me the right address?" He checked that the numbers on his phone matched those on the building. One of the numbers was missing, so he had to verify the buildings on either side but this was definitely the address Monica sent.

"Hang on, let me check her file again. Why, what's wrong?"

"Have you ever actually been to Amelia's apartment?" he asked rather than answering her question.

He could hear the sound of papers rustling on Monica's end of the line. It was several moments before Monica responded.

"Ah, here it is. Yes, the address I texted you is the one we have on file."

Ryker looked at the building again. "You never answered my question. Have you been to Amelia's apartment before?" He couldn't imagine Monica would be okay with her friend living there. It wasn't exactly a shitty part of Seattle, but it was clear the owner was a slum lord who didn't give a shit about his tenants.

"No," Monica sighed. "We're work friends, not hang-out-on-the-weekend friends. What's going on, Ryker?"

"Nothing. I'll call you back once I've checked out her apartment."

He didn't wait for a response, just hit the end call button and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Ryker was already not in the mood to deal with shit today; the last thing he wanted to do was spend more time on the phone and subject Monica to his grumpiness.

Ryker did his best not to touch anything except what was absolutely necessary as he entered the building. The concrete steps were chipped and missing large chunks. The wrought-iron railing looked like he would require a tetanus shot if he touched it. Some of the panes of glass on the door were smashed and only being held together by duct tape. And Ryker was sure it wouldn't take much effort to pick the lock if needed.

It wasn't needed though. There was nothing protecting the tenants from outsiders. Anyone off the street could easily walk in. A sign on the elevator indicated it was broken, and based on the discoloring of the paper, it had been for a while.

Apartment 607. Which meant every day Amelia had to walk up and down six flights of stairs to get to her place. The more Ryker took in, the angrier he got. By the time he entered the stairwell and got a whiff of the urine smell, he was ready to kill someone.

Why the fuck was someone as sweet as Amelia, living in a shithole like this?

The walk up six flights of stairs did nothing to calm him down. In fact, when he saw the pile of shit––the one he hoped was an animal's and not a human's like he feared––on the fifth-floor landing, his decision was made. Amelia wouldn't be spending another damn night in this building if he had anything to say about it.

The hallway leading to the separate apartments wasn't much better. At one point the carpet might've been red, but now a variety of stains had most areas closer to brown or even black. Ryker considered burning his boots once he left. On two separate occasions, as he walked closer to Amelia's door, he had stuck to the floor and been forced to pull hard to keep moving. But it was the squishy spot that really pushed the thought home. He didn't even want to know what could possibly be soaked into the carpet.

He just wanted to grab Amelia and leave. Then he could burn his clothes and never have to worry about the amount of disinfectant required to feel clean again. Ryker couldn't fathom how Amelia managed to look so put together and smell so good after being forced to leave this place every morning.

Amelia's door was slightly ajar when he got to it, and the mess around him was forgotten as every instinct went on high alert. He reached for the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans and sent up a quick thanks that he hadn't started his drunk fest just yet when Monica called. That would've come later in the day when the memories got to be too much.

He pushed the door open and moved silently through what was probably considered an entryway. A small table with a houseplant decorated the tiny space. Where the hallway smelled of urine, Amelia's apartment smelled like her. A mixture of lavender and citrus filled his nostrils.

Ryker moved through the spotless living room. There wasn't a single thing out of place. Throw pillows lined the couch, with a blanket hanging perfectly on the back. An area rug sat beneath the coffee table and covered what was probably a disgusting carpet. Amelia clearly understood the apartment flooring wasn't sanitary to walk on barefoot and did her best to fix the situation. But again, it made him wonder why she stayed here to begin with.

Every available surface contained either a picture or some kind of plant. It was obvious Amelia did everything she could to liven up her space. Colorful pillows. Vibrant vases. Even the pictures in the frames were full of beautiful scenery. It all helped to take away from the dingy white walls and overall lackluster feel.

The kitchen was no different. Pale blue accents helped brighten up the dull area. Just like in the other two rooms, plants lined the windowsill and were strategically placed on the counters. While touches of Amelia were everywhere, the apartment wasn't cluttered. There was no mail sitting on the table. The sink was empty. If it weren't for the thriving plants, his first assumption would be that the person living there didn't spend much time inside these walls.

A soft whimper caught his attention and had him moving at a faster pace down the narrow hallway. A tiny bathroom was on his right and directly in front of him was a closed door.

Ryker placed his ear against the cheap wood but no more sounds filtered through. He tried the door handle but found it locked. Sending up a silent apology to Amelia for destroying her property, he threw his full weight into the thin door.

The amount of force he used wasn't necessary. It was made blatantly clear when there was nothing restricting his body and he stumbled into the bedroom. Quickly righting himself, Ryker took in the room. Lying in the middle of the bed was a naked Amelia. Her right foot was chained to the bedpost and the skin underneath was rubbed raw.

"What the fuck!"

He tucked the gun back into his waistband and sat down on the edge of the bed. Careful not to jostle the mattress too much, he touched Amelia's bare shoulder.

"Amelia?" When she didn't stir, he nudged her a bit harder.

"Amelia, wake up."

It wasn't until he ran his hands up and down her arm that she started to stir. Amelia flopped onto her back and opened her mouth for a silent scream.

"It's okay. It's just me. Ryker."

He wanted to slap his forehead. It wasn't like Amelia didn't know who he was. She had seen him countless times since he was tasked to watch over Monica.

"Ryker?"

"Yeah, it's me. Let me go grab you a blanket and then I'll get this shackle off you."

He moved at a clipped pace back into the living room. Ryker grabbed the throw from the back of the couch and rushed back to Amelia.

He found her in the same position as he left her, as if she had been too afraid to move.

"Here you go."

Ryker tucked the blanket around her body and then went to work on the lock. Luckily, he had gotten in the habit of carrying his lock-picking kit. His friends joked that it was a waste but if only they could see him now. He would be the one getting the last laugh in the end.

It took him about a minute, but finally, the lock popped and the chain slipped free. The skin underneath was worse than he first thought; blisters had started to form and some were oozing.

"I need to get you out of here." He didn't want to chance someone coming back while he waited for an ambulance. There was no way Amelia had chained herself to the bed, and until he could question her, he had to assume whomever had could come back at any moment.

Ryker scooped her up and cradled her close to his chest, careful not to shake her too much. He didn't bother to try and lock the apartment on the way out. Amelia wouldn't be coming back here, and he refused to allow the police to handle the situation. They were more than competent but this was personal. Amelia was kind and sweet. The person who did this to her would be punished by his hand.

Just like his walk up, he didn't run across anyone on the way down. It was a damn good thing too. He didn't know if he would've been able to keep his shit together.

Once he had Amelia settled into the back of his Wrangler, he sent a quick text to Monica asking that she meet him at the hospital with some clothes.

He didn't wait to see if she responded before slipping the phone back into his pocket, nor did he answer her call when it came through his Bluetooth. He was too angry to speak to anyone at the moment.

The drive to the hospital was agonizingly slow. Every few seconds he looked in the rearview mirror to make sure Amelia was okay. Her eyes were open, but they were nothing more than an empty stare. The entire ride they were zoned in on the same spot. He started to wonder if she had drifted off to sleep with them still open.

Ryker pulled directly into the emergency entrance, shut the engine off, and pocketed the keys. If someone wanted the damn thing moved, they would have to hunt him down. His only priority at the moment was getting Amelia inside and looked at. Other than to ask that it was him, she had yet to utter another word. On a good day, Amelia was shy and quiet, but this was more. This was shock and he didn't know the first thing about how to snap her out of it.

Everything moved at a much faster rate once he walked through the hospital doors and explained how he found her. A nurse whisked Amelia away, barking orders for a rape kit. He was only allowed to go so far before another nurse stopped him and redirected him to a waiting room. His first instinct was to argue. The need to protect and shield Amelia was strong. But then some of the conversation from the nurse filtered through his mind and he stopped.

Words like penetration , possible tearing , and trauma hit him all at once. He dropped his ass into one of the hard plastic chairs and his head into his hands. He had no idea if he had what it took to help Amelia through this. He’d proven once how badly he handled trauma when it involved those he cared about. Did he really want to see if he could do better this time around? And on the twentieth anniversary no less.