Ruthless Regret (Ruthless Games Duology #2)

Chapter 54

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

ASHLEY

"Have you spoken to your friends since you came back?” The question surprises me. “You should probably let them know you’re okay, and that I haven’t got you locked away somewhere."

I glance over at him, eyes wide at the dry tone in his voice.

He's right, of course. Jessa and Karla have been blowing up my cell since we got back to Whitstone, and apart from a quick message to say we’d got back safely, I haven’t spoken to them. They’ll be worried, and I owe them an update.

“You’re right. My cell is upstairs.”

He turns away, opening the laptop lid and taking a seat in front of it. “Take your time.”

I stare at him for a second, then back out of the kitchen and go upstairs. Maybe that is his way of asking for some space. My cell is on the dresser, and I pick it up and sit on the bed. Staring at the screen, my finger hovers over Karla's number.

What do I even say?

Taking a deep breath, I hit the call button. She doesn’t answer. I try Jessa-Mae.

"Ash!" Jessa answers on the second ring. "Karla was just about to call you back. She got to her cell as it stopped ringing. How's it going?"

"Hey. I’m sorry I haven’t called. It’s been crazy."

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Apart from the fact I slept with Zain … again . “We found out some things yesterday.”

"About the murders?"

"Yeah. Zain got the sheriff to bring in one of the detectives from the original case again. We were allowed to be there while he was questioned. He admitted Ramsey—the lead detective—ignored evidence that could've cleared Zain."

"Holy shit," Jessa breathes. "So Zain really was framed, and didn’t just end up with a great lawyer?"

"Yes. And there's more. Zain got a call from someone yesterday. I think he might have hired a private investigator or something. Ramsey ... he's dead . Murdered. They made it look like suicide, but it wasn't."

There's a long silence, the kind that stretches time, making each second heavier. "Ash, that sounds dangerous. Are you safe?"

"I'm fine. We're being careful."

"Good." Her tone turns curious. "How are things with Zain?"

Heat creeps into my cheeks, and I’m thankful she can’t see me. "It's ... complicated."

"Complicated how?" Jessa presses.

"There’s a lot of things to work through. We’re trying to keep our focus on finding answers."

Jessa's quiet for a moment. "You know you can talk to me, right? About anything."

"I know. Thank you. I'm just ... trying to figure things out."

"Okay. Just be careful. I know you want answers, but don't lose yourself in the process. Promise me."

"I promise. I'll keep you both updated."

I hang up, tuck my cell into a back pocket, and head back downstairs. Zain is still at the table, his eyes focused on his laptop, the glow from the screen highlighting the sharp angles of his face. I’m about to ask if he wants some breakfast when there’s a knock at the door. Zain's head snaps up, his eyes narrowing.

We exchange a glance, both on high alert. After what happened with Ramsey, we can't be too careful. Zain stands, and we both walk down the hallway. When I open the door, I'm surprised to find Zain's mother standing there.

"Mrs. Ryder," I say, my voice coming out higher than I intended. "Is everything okay?"

Her eyes flick between us, her expression guarded. "I need to speak with you both."

Zain steps aside, gesturing for her to come in. She walks past me, and we follow her into the living room. Zain takes a seat in the armchair, I perch on the edge of the couch. His mom sits on the other end, closer to Zain. It feels like a subtle reminder of where her loyalty lies.

"Why didn’t you just call?" Zain asks.

She takes a deep breath, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I've been thinking about that man I mentioned before—the one who came asking questions after your arrest. I remembered something. I thought it would be better to come and see you about it rather than call."

Zain's eyes sharpen, his focus entirely on her. "What is it?"

"He had a scar on his left hand. A burn mark across his knuckles. I can't believe I forgot it until now."

Oh my god. Is this something we can use? Is it possible to trace someone from that description?

Mrs. Ryder's eyes meet mine briefly, then her attention shifts back to Zain. "I told you before that he knew things about the case that weren't public. But one thing I didn’t tell you … He mentioned Louisa's pregnancy. Asked if I knew who the father was."

"Mom." Zain’s voice is tight. "Why didn’t you mention this before?"

"I honestly forgot about it, until you started asking questions again yesterday."

"Do you remember anything else?"

His mother nods, and this time she looks at me. "He asked about you, Ashley. Whether you were close to Zain before the murders."

A chill runs down my spine. "Me? Why would he ask about me?"

Mrs. Ryder shakes her head. "I have no idea. I told him we barely knew you."

She talks for a little longer, repeating everything she’d already told Zain about the man, and it’s almost an hour later when she stands up.

“I have to go, sweetheart. I promised your dad I’d meet him for lunch.”

"Thank you for coming," Zain says. “I’ll walk you out.”

"Oh, I almost forgot ... regarding Ashley's memories … I have a colleague who specializes in memory recovery techniques. If you decide to pursue that avenue, she might be able to help."

The idea sends a chill down my spine. The thought of delving into those repressed memories terrifies me, but if it could help uncover the truth ...

"We'll consider it," Zain replies, before I can.

As she reaches the door, Mrs. Ryder turns back, her eyes finding mine. "Ashley, this can't be easy for you either. Please be careful. Both of you."

Once she’s gone, Zain comes back to the living room. He moves over to the window, his back to me.

"Your mom still doesn't like me."

Zain turns, his gaze locking onto mine. "Give her time. It’s not easy for her. But she’ll come round."

"What do you think about the memory recovery idea?"

"I think it could be useful as a last resort. But it's your choice. I won't force you into anything."

"I'll think about it. Do you think we will be able to figure out who the man with the burned hand is?"

Zain nods, pulling out his phone. "I'll text Rook, see what he can dig up."

While Zain texts his friend, I think about all the things we’ve discovered so far. The burned hand, the pregnancy, my buried memories. It’s all connected, it has to be.

"Hey," Zain's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I manage a small smile. “I’m going to make a drink. Do you want one?”

He nods, and I stand up to go into the kitchen, my mind full of questions.

Who was the man with the burned hand? Why did he ask about me? What did he know about Louisa that we didn’t?

"Rook’s looking into it," Zain says from the doorway, making me jump.

I nod, grateful for something concrete. "Good. That's ... good."

I finish making our drinks and turn. He takes a mug from me, and sets it down on the table, then turns back to me.

I lean against the counter and take a sip of tea. His eyes drop to my lips, and my pulse spikes.

He steps closer, and runs his fingers down my arm. “Put your drink down.”

As soon as I place it on the countertop, his lips crash down on mine.

His hand grips the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair as he pulls me closer, erasing the space between us. There’s nothing gentle about the kiss—no hesitancy, no questions. It’s raw, desperate, and all-consuming.

I kiss him back, and my hands find their way to his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingers. He groans against my lips, and the sound sends heat through me.

When he lifts his head, I stare up at him, too breathless to speak. His eyes are dark and intense as they bore into mine.

"I’m not done with you, Firecracker."