Fate’s Unseen Shadow (Cager #1)

Chapter 10

10

“ D id you forget something?” When her doorbell rang, Ella looked through the peephole, and was disappointed it wasn’t Damon. She opened the door. “Hey, Ryker?” She looked past him to the lady behind him. “And friend.”

“I brought someone to sketch the person who you saw following you. She promises not to ask questions aside from what she needs to know for the sketch. I also told her I wouldn’t give her your name for your protection.”

“Was Damon supposed to be here when we did this?” The slight edge of panic in her voice embarrassed her in front of the sketch artist, who stood quietly to the side.

“He got called away.”

“I know, but…”

Ryker lifted his eyebrows, his brown eyes kind like usual. “I can’t help you until we do this, Ella. Can we please come inside?”

“Sure.” She stepped back, disappointed but determined to handle it. “Can I get you something to drink? I had a small grocery delivery made a few minutes ago. I hate knowing Damon is paying so much for meal orders when I can learn to cook.”

“I’ll take whatever you have.” Ryker stopped close, giving her hand a small squeeze. “Just relax.”

“Does he know you’re here?” She meant Damon, hoping he understood.

“Yes. He knew we were doing this. They’re down at the port. Grab the drinks and I’ll get her set up.” He left, moving with the woman to the living room. “Let me know if you need anything from us,” he said to the woman.

Ella grabbed a few sodas and brought them to the living room. After passing out the drinks, she sat in the chair Ryker indicated and took a big breath.

The sketch artist crisscrossed her legs on the sofa, opened her sketchbook, and looked up at Ella. “Go.”

Ryker moved behind Ella, setting his hand on her shoulder. “Breathe.”

Ella managed to describe her stalker, giving the sketch artist everything she could remember. From his bald head and the color of his eyes to the tattoo on his neck. A snake of some kind. The scar over his left eye. The lopsided nostrils. His protruding chin.

“I knew you’d have a kickass memory,” Ryker said, pride in his voice. The purr of Damon’s car caused her and Ryker to look toward the parking lot. “Damon’s back.”

The woman continued to sketch for a moment before turning the picture around. “Now, you can tell me if something isn’t right?—”

“Oh my god. That’s him.” She inhaled. “That’s exactly him.” Her breathing started coming faster, panic rising higher. She looked at Ryker, not knowing what to do as her vision swam.

“Easy,” Ryker whispered. “It’s only a picture. He can’t hurt you.”

She wrapped her hand around her throat. “I can’t,” she gasped.

She could see him again, standing across the street, making that motion across his throat like she was dead.

She was next.

He’d kill her.

“Yes, you can.” Ryker took her by the elbow. “Damon’s back. You’ll be okay with him here.”

Closing her eyes, she focused on getting herself under control. She wasn’t this weak. Scared? Absolutely. But not weak.

She opened her eyes as Ryker motioned to the woman to pack up. “We need to go.” He walked to the door and opened it. “Come on. Let me take you downstairs. Shit,” he muttered. “I hate that I missed the party,” he said in a raised voice.

“Definitely an interesting party.” Damon stood at the bottom of the stairs, shirtless, blood down the side of his pants. He held a wadded-up T-shirt to the cut.

“What happened?” Ryker asked.

“Someone decided to practice their Thanksgiving carving skills on my lower back.”

Ryker glanced back at the sketch artist, who’d packed up in record time and was standing behind them. “I’m going to go see about him.”

“Me, too.” Jolted from her panic over the picture, Ella locked up as they left and then rushed down the stairs. Her concern for Damon overrode everything else. Worried about the amount of blood soaked into his pants, she passed both Ryker and the woman on the stairs.

Damon waved her away. “I’m fine. Go back.”

“You’re not fine.” She tried to look, but he twisted away from her.

“Stop. Ryker can?—”

“Let me handle it.” She looked at Ryker. “Go. I’ll take care of him.”

Ryker patted Damon on the shoulder. “I leave you in good hands, my man.”

Ella took Damon by the arm not holding the towel. “Let’s go inside. You cleaned my finger. I can clean this.”

“You’re a nurse as well as business owner and bartender? You must have an impressive résumé.”

“I do.” She patted his pocket and reached in to get the key.

He smirked, not helping. “I like you playing nurse already.”

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“Are you sure you can do this if I’m shirtless? Stay focused, I mean.”

She shoved open the door and led him inside. “Yes. Bloodied, half-dressed men aren’t my thing.” She looked back, studying his chest. “Although this is the first time I’ve seen one, so I guess we’ll see.”

“Don’t let my wound prevent you from acting out any fantasies you might have. I’ll do my best. Trust me.”

Was he flirting? She bit her lip to keep her smile contained.

After Ella sat him down on the toilet, she knelt beside him. “Okay. Do you think it’ll start bleeding again if you take that away?”

“Guess we’ll find out.” He tossed the shirt into the shower. “I don’t think it hit my kidney.”

“Ew,” she whispered.

“Nurses aren’t supposed to say things like ew.”

“Take it up with my supervisor.” The slice leaked blood at the edges, a ribbon flowing down to his pants immediately.

She hissed and looked up. “I think you need stitches?”

“No. Look under the counter. There are some butterfly strips and a tube of ointment. There’s also a saline wash you’ll need to do. It’ll be easier if we do this in the shower.” He stood and undid his belt. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay modest.”

“I’ll restrain myself.” She untied his boots and then helped pull down his jeans, trying to keep her mind focused on the task. In his boxers, he stepped into the shower. He braced his arms on the shower wall. She restrained herself, but she couldn’t avoid looking. God, his body was amazing. Hard abs. Thick, strong thighs stretched the bottom of his boxers. And his butt?—

“Are you checking out my ass?”

Ella let her eyes roam slowly up his body till they met his. “Yup.”

With a small shake of his head, he looked back down at the ground. “Let me know if you can’t find the saline wash.”

Politely rejected, she searched underneath his sink. “Here it is. Will it hurt?”

“Just do it. You’ll need to spread it apart a little.” He chuckled as he looked back at her. “That sounded horrible.”

She had to laugh as well. “Good thing I’m not squeamish. Although I didn’t know that until now.” She did as he directed, and he never made another sound. His hands fisted, knuckles turning white. “I’m almost done. It’s bleeding again.” She looked around and grabbed a towel off a shelf. She pressed the cloth over the wound, holding some pressure. “Okay.”

He straightened, and turned.

Keeping her hand on the towel, it put her nearly hugging his body.

“Thanks.” He cupped her cheek, the sweetness surprising after all the teasing. “How did it go with Ryker?”

“It was a success.” Even if it was a miserable experience.

He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get a good picture?”

She looked down, leaning into his body a little. Not even the fact he was half-dressed could override the sick feeling lodged in the back of her throat. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t like seeing his face.” She shuddered before resting her forehead against his chest. “It was horrible. The lady even drew him with that evil smile.”

He urged her face back up to him. “I will do my best to ensure you never see him again. We needed the sketch artist’s picture so Ryker has something to search for.” He brushed his thumb along her temple before releasing her. “It should go pretty quickly from here.”

She wanted to believe him.

“Let’s get this bandaged.”

Still holding the towel for him, she stepped back as he exited the shower. Pulling back the cloth, she nodded. “It’s stopped enough. Let’s see if I can do this butterfly thing right.”

“Hard to mess up. Make sure the skin is together.”

Ignoring her response to the warmth of his body, she worked at getting the cut lined up and tight under the bandages. “There. Done. You need to change your boxers. They’re covered in blood.” She bit her lip, taking a long look at his butt. “Not sure you need Nurse Ella doing that for you.”

He set his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Why don’t you run upstairs and get ready for tonight? We can grab some dinner somewhere on our way to the bar.”

“Like a date?”

Her question hung between them, his expression unreadable. When he didn’t answer, she pushed a little more. “I hate it that you got hurt.” She brushed her fingers across a dark bruise forming on his ribcage from whatever fight had occurred.

“It’ll heal.”

She flattened her hand along his good side, intrigued by the feel of hard muscles underneath warm skin. “Five-thirty, again?”

“We can meet at six,” he offered. “But this isn’t a date.”

With a small nod, she dropped her hand. “Right. Six.” Disappointed with that development, she left his apartment. Fine. If he wasn’t interested, then she wouldn’t put them in an awkward situation. She’d be thankful that he’d stepped in to help her when he did and focus on her future.

No matter how much she wanted him to be a part of it.