I scowl at him, but he’s right, so the insult fades quickly.
“When you were freeing me, I thought you were one of Eduardo Miguel’s men getting me ready to go to the buyer.”
“That would make sense,” he says. “It was understandable for you to fight me.”
“When I heard the commotion upstairs, I figured the police were there to rescue me and that you were taking me to hide me. But it was a mess. I couldn’t figure anything out. I never saw any of their faces either, since they kept me blindfolded the entire time.”
“But you recognized my voice.”
“I did.”
“When did you start to trust me?”
“Who says I trust you?”
He tilts his head in my direction.
“You probably built a little trust when you went all Steve Irwin.”
Ryder laughs.
Before too long, the boat gets pulled into the Neches River’s current. And that’s a good thing for more reasons than I can count—in fact, I feel elated! We’re really getting away from them! Away from Eduardo Miguel and every evil thing that was going to happen.
I can’t help but gaze back at Ryder gratefully. He saved me.
He catches my look. I smile a bit and he smiles back.
Holy God, does he have to be so gorgeous? He’s covered in mud and alligator slime and sweat, and I have honestly never been more aroused in my entire life. I get it, he saved me. Huge.
I have to look away because I can tell by his cocksure attitude he’ll see right through me and know exactly what I’m thinking.
“What happens next? To me?” I try to divert the sexual tension building inside me.
“I don’t know, Farrington—” he begins.
“Rachel, please.”
He allows himself to set the oars at ease over his lap while he considers me. “Witness protection would probably be your best move. At least until after his sentencing. After what Miguel has done, I’m sure the government will have no problem giving him an electrified throne.” His eyebrows press down in thought.
“What is it?”
“Authorities suspect it was Cruz who broke Miguel out of the transport—so he could kill him before he could give his testimony to the DEA and FBI. But that obviously is not what happened.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Who.”
“Who are you thinking about?”
“You.” He looks straight into my eyes and holds them as he says this, sending a streak of lightning through my core. “If it wasn’t Cruz who broke him out, who did? Has Miguel’s influence expanded to where he’s higher on the food chain than authorities suspect?”
“But why are you thinking about me?”
“Because depending on how deep Miguel’s roots and reach are, he may not be captured by authorities again, and that would leave you in serious danger.” He’s wearing that same expression he had when he asked if I was okay after the gator. “The men in the house you thought were police coming to rescue you were actually rival gang members attacking Miguel’s estate.”
“Gangs? You mean Cruz’s men?”
“I’m not sure if some were Cruz’s men, but most were flying gang colors.”
“So, like a turf war is going on?”
He shoots me a look.
“I read a lot.”
“Yeah, like a turf war,” he answers pensively, like he’s arranging mental puzzle pieces that just aren’t fitting together.
“So there’s more than one group of bad guys who wants Miguel dead?”
“That’s my theory at the moment.”
“Well then, that’s good for me,” I say, brighter. “Someone could get to him before the authorities or the trial, making all of this go away.”
He doesn’t look convinced.
Chapter Seven
Ryder
The sun rises as we find a safe place to dock close to Port Arthur.
I give Farrington a hand out of the boat. She grips my wrist firmly and, I notice, with a new level of confidence. She’s beginning to trust me—that fact wedges itself inside of me. It matters to me, even if I can’t explain why.
This girl is getting under my skin. Even though she nearly got us killed—several times— fighting me through our entire escape, I utterly respect her for it. In her mind, I was one of them, and there was no way in hell she was going to be a helpless victim. I like that. She did everything in her power to kick my ass. If she could’ve, she would’ve. Then—even when she was confused about her situation and what was going on, doubtful of who I was and what my true intentions were, and utterly terrified—she was smart, kept her head and thought about it. Sexiest thing I ever saw is when she jumped right into the goddamn fray to smack that alligator with the oar in an effort to protect me. That was so undeniably, unbelievably, fucking hot!
Now, here she is, putting her trust in me. I won’t disappoint her.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “Maybe.”