"Here," Sarah says as she hands Ryder a couple clean towels and a first aid kit. "Don't get blood on my couch."

Ryder ignores her as he takes the towels and the first aid kit, turning his attention back to my leg. He shakes his head. "You're going to need to take your pants off."

My eyebrows shoot up and I stare at him, waiting for some kind of confirmation that I heard him wrong. It doesn't come. "You're joking."

He looks at me blankly. "I'm not actually. Your jeans are in the way and the deepest wound is on your thigh. I can't roll your pant leg up that high."

"You haven't even tried."

Ryder gives me a flat look. "Take off your pants or I'll cut them off you." I glare at Ryder.

"Kinky." I turn my glare to Sarah at her words. She smiles. "Just saying." Ryder joins in on my glare. Sarah shrugs. "I've got a couple pairs of shorts that should fit you," She says to me. "I'll grab you a pair."

She leaves the room and comes back moments later with a pair of plain black shorts in her hands. She tosses them to me. I look to Ryder, patiently waiting for him to leave the room. He stubbornly crosses his arms over his chest.

"You have underwear on, right?" He questions.

"Yes."

"So what's the problem?"

I glare at him. The problem is I don't like you and I'm not giving you the satisfaction of seeing me in my underwear. I don't say any of this to him though. "Leave the room."

"It's not happening. I'll turn my back to you, but I'm not leaving the room. I'm not chancing you running off again."

"I'm injured," I remind him.

His gaze briefly goes to Sarah. "You'd have help," Is all he says.

"You put a tracker on me."

He smiles widely. "You'd get rid of it."

I grumble a string of curses at him and motion for him to turn around. He does and I struggle out of the jeans and slip on the shorts.

"You can turn around now," I tell him as I take a seat back on the couch, my leg propped up on a pillow.

"Thanks," He says dryly. "Anything else, your majesty?"

"I could really use a massage."

He looks as if he's contemplating the repercussions of hitting me. Or shooting me.

He curses me out under his breath. He takes a seat in the chair set up next to the couch and pulls the first aid kit into his lap, opening it up and rifling through it. He starts to talk to Sarah. "Can you-"

Sarah puts a bowl of water on the coffee table next to him. He glances up at her as if wondering how she knew what he was going to ask for. Finally, he just shakes his head and grabs one of the towels, dipping it into the water. He starts cleaning and clearing all the blood off my wounds.

I hiss in pain when he wipes at the deeper wound on my leg.

"Relax," He says as he holds at my leg with one hand to keep me from pulling away. "I'm almost done."

"With cleaning the wounds," I tell him. "And then you're going to stick me with a needle."

"Your tone suggests you believe I'm enjoying this."

"I don't doubt it."

"I don't enjoy getting blood all over my hands and clothes. You're ruining my favorite shirt."

"It's a white t-shirt."

"So?"

"I saw like five more of them in your bag," I inform him.

Briefly, I'm aware of Sarah muttering something about needing to make a few phone calls. She leaves the room.

Ryder looks up at me from threading a needle. His eyes glittering with amusement. "True, but I like this one best."

I don't bother arguing with him further. I let out a yelp when he digs the needle into my skin. His hand on my leg tightens and pushes down, keeping me pinned in place.

"This is going to hurt a lot more if you're going to be jumping around every time the needle touches you," He states, his eyes on my leg.

"Couldn't you have numbed the area?"

"With what? I don't have anything for that." He nods towards the first aid kit.

"Ice," I tell him. "You could have used ice."

"My bad." His lips twitch as he says this and I narrow my eyes at him. "Just don't focus on your leg."

"How am I supposed to-Ow!" I cut off with a cry.

"Damn, that went a little deeper than it was supposed to."

I glare at him. He avoids making eye contact with me. "Stop moving," He orders.

"Easy for you to say," I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Like I said, just focus on something else."

"Such as?" I question. "I'm open to suggestions."

He dumps the bowl of water over my head.

"Ryder!" I sputter, my hands wiping at the water covering my face and dripping from my hair. I pull my glasses off and wipe them dry with one of the clean towels. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"You're covered in ash. You looked like you could use a shower."

I glare at him, grinding my teeth together.

He looks up at me with amusement. "All done," He says as he puts the needle aside.

"I'm going to kill you," I tell him.

"Just don't rip apart your stitches. Wouldn't want all my hard work to be ruined."

***

"You two are welcome to stay as long as you need," Sarah says.

Ryder still eyes her cautiously. I roll my eyes at him. "Thanks, Sarah," I reply. "But we're not going to be staying long. I'm not going to put you in any more danger."

Sarah shrugs. "I'm constantly in danger. You being here doesn't change anything and don't you worry about me. I can take care of myself."

"Who exactly are you?" Ryder interjects, his eyes still filled with caution when he looks at Sarah, his gaze always going to the tattoo on her neck.

"Sarah Smith," She says and then pauses. "Though, that's not actually my name," She tells him.

"Then what is?"

She shrugs. "I don't know."

Ryder looks at her in confusion, waiting for her to explain further.

She shrugs again. "I was kidnapped at a young age. I don't know who my real family is."

Shock shows on Ryder's face. That wasn't the answer he was expecting. "Why haven't you gone to the police?"

She tilts her head as she looks at him. "What do you see when you look at me?"

"What?" He appears confused by her question.

She answers for him. "You see what everyone else sees. You see a tattoo. A mark. You see me for all the things the gang has done. All the lives they've ruined. You don't see a victim, you see an aggressor." She shakes her head. "The police would never listen to me long enough to do anything. They'd just be focusing on how they could get me in jail."

Ryder stares at her thoughtfully. "Do you deserve to go to jail?" He asks finally. I shoot him a glare. He ignores me.

"You expect me to defend myself?" She questions softly. "You expect me to say no? I've done a lot of terrible things. So, yes. In the eyes of the law, I deserve to go to jail."

Ryder stares at her, seemingly not knowing what else to say. "You're awfully young," He says. "How old are you?"

She tilts her head yet again as she studies him. "What an odd question," She mutters thoughtfully. "I'm eighteen."

"How old were you when you first started doing things for the gang?"

Her facial expression turns grave. "You don't want an answer to that question," She states firmly.

"If I didn't want one, I wouldn't have asked," Ryder counters.

Sarah shakes her head. "No," She says softly. "You don't and I don't want to give you one."

Ryder looks like he's going to continue to press the issue so I interject. "Any word on Volkov's movements?" I ask her.

She smiles gratefully at me for the interruption. "He's out of the immediate area," She informs me. "And word's getting around that he's pissed. Seriously pissed." She shrugs. "Not that there's much he can do about it. He doesn't have all the resources he used to."

"What does that mean?" Ryder asks her.

She turns her gaze to him. "Gang's not doing so well financially. It started with them losing their biggest account four years ago. Since then they haven't been having all that much luck in rebuilding their fortune." Her gaze goes to me briefly. "They've been having a string of bad luck."

I hide my smile. That bad luck may or may not be my doing. I'd been sending law enforcement knocking on their doors on anonymous tips. Tips that ranged from a minor drug deal going down, to tips that interrupted a contract killing. Either way, the gang wasn't as able to do as many drugs, weapons, or any other kind of sales to bring in money.

"So the rumors Nicky was talking about were true," Ryder says.

Sarah glances to me when Ryder's not looking and an amused smile plays at her lips. "Rumors, huh?" She questions.

I shrug innocently. "I hear things," I say. She smiles wider and shakes her head.

Ryder looks back to Sarah. "If you're no longer with the gang, how do you know all this?"

"I had a few friends in the gang like me. We keep in touch," She replies.

Ryder nods, his expression thoughtful. "How did the gang lose their biggest account?"

Sarah sneaks a glance my way. I shake my head. She shakes her head at Ryder. "Not a clue."

Her gaze turns to me. "That doesn't mean Volkov doesn't have any funds. He's got his own large fortune that he'd be more than willing to use to find you. He's obsessed."

"Why though?" Ryder questions. "If she just saw something, why is he so obsessed with getting her?"

Both me and Sarah look at each other. No way we can tell him the truth. Sarah finally shrugs. "Don't know. Volkov's got a couple screws loose. He doesn't particularly need a reason for anything."

Ryder studies Sarah for a long time. "I could arrest you," He says finally.

She gives him a blank look. "You could. You probably should, but you're not going to. Right now I'm an ally you sorely need."

Ryder just stares at her. I can see him struggling. He wants to uphold the law, to bring in the bad guys, but he knows she's right. Plus, I don't think he wants to deal with me if he does actually arrest her.

Sarah turns on her heel and starts to leave the room. "I only have one guest room," She says over her shoulder. "So, one of you is going to have to take the couch. I'll bring some blankets and linens down for you." I listen to her footsteps as she walks up the stairs. "Or you know," I hear her call out. "you could both share the guest room."

If she were still in the room, I'd have thrown something at her. And she knows it too, I realize as I hear her laughter echo down the stairs.

Ryder looks at me, but it's obvious he's thinking, his mind wandering elsewhere. "You're staying down here," He says finally. I raise my eyebrows in question. "I'm not chancing you falling down the stairs and ripping your stitches."

"Sure I won't run out on you?" I question as he gets to his feet.

He looks down at me lying on the couch. "If you do," He leans down toward me. "I'd find you."

He's oh so close and his breath mingles with mine in the empty space between us. His gaze briefly goes to my lips and for a moment I believe he's going to kiss me again. He suddenly straightens up, running a hand through his hair and muttering something under his breath that I don't catch.

"Get some rest, Nicky," He says finally as he turns and starts to leave the room. "I need to make some calls."

I watch as he leaves and chide myself when I feel disappointment flow through me. I should not be feeling this way. Especially not because of him. I groan and throw my hands in the air before bringing them down to cover my eyes as I lean back on the couch.

"I have a headache," I mutter to myself.

Sarah speaks up and I'm not even aware of when she came back in the room or how long she's been standing there. Her next words give me a pretty good idea though.

"Must be from all the sexual tension."

"Oh, shut up."