The Three Fates of Ryan Love (4 page)

He came closer, tossed his dirty clothes on top of the pile she'd made with hers in the corner, and opened his pack. He pulled out the pair of dark blue briefs she'd stuffed in it and faced Sabelle.

“Why don't you have tattoos?” she blurted. “Other men do.”

“I'm not other men.”

Obviously. “You just seem like the kind of man who would.”

“Why is that?”

She shrugged, as if all that bare skin didn't affect her at all. “You like to fight. You seem . . . dangerous,” she said, feeling her face heat up.

He snorted. “Guess you got me all figured out, don't you?”

“You think I'm wrong?”

“I wouldn't dare.”

She narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to see through the layers of that comment.

“I'm going to need to get dressed,” he said.

She nodded.

“Does that mean you want to watch?”

His question sank below her dazed senses and blossomed into something as combustible as the explosions they'd barely escaped. She jumped to her feet only to find herself standing too close to Ryan. He smelled clean and warm and male. She took a deep breath. Very male. Her gaze traveled up to his chin and the intriguing shadow that covered it. She curled her fingers into her palms as she imagined touching it. Tasting it.

“What are you doing, Sabelle?” he asked in that deep, honeyed voice.

Her gaze shifted to his mouth and the full lips that had formed the words. She longed to touch them, too. What would a kiss feel like? She'd imagined it a hundred—a thousand—times. She wanted to know.

Ryan took a deep breath and she remembered he'd asked a question. One she didn't know how to answer. She couldn't tell him what she was doing. She wasn't sure herself.

“I'll wait outside,” she muttered instead.

As she walked to the door, she could
feel
his gaze following. It trilled down her spine and stirred the embers that had been glowing inside her since the very first time she'd seen Ryan Love.

She'd only just managed to get herself calm again before he emerged to find her in the hall. Dressed, he was a little easier to resist, but he smelled of soap and fresh air and that uniquely
Ryan
scent she couldn't label but wanted to bottle and wear like cologne. His gaze met hers for a charged moment before he started down the stairs.

In the kitchen, they found Ruby still at the table, sitting with Brandy's nose in her lap, murmuring softly as she stroked the dog. Brandy listened with rapt attention.

“She had glass in her fur,” Ruby said. “And a piece in her paw. I got it out.”

“Thanks,” Ryan replied, moving around the kitchen familiarly. He opened a cupboard and pulled out three mugs. “Coffee?” he asked Sabelle, brows raised.

She'd never had it before, but she nodded. It seemed expected.

“Have a seat,” he said.

Sabelle perched on the chair at the table with Ruby on her right and Ryan moving in the kitchen to her left.

“Tell me what happened,” Ruby urged in a low voice.

Ryan poured a dark brown brew into each mug, glanced at Sabelle, and added a healthy pour of cream to one cup. “About an hour after you went home, I locked up behind the last customer,” he began, delivering their coffee. “Then I took Brandy for our run, like I always do after work.”

“Wasn't it raining?”

He shook his head. “The storm didn't blow in until later. It came fast. Never seen anything like it.”

“I thought so, too. It was clear when I drove home.”

He opened a stainless steel box on the counter and pulled out a loaf of bread. As he talked, he put three pieces in a toaster oven beside it.

“I heard sirens when I was on my way back. I could see them down Mill Avenue, around Apache Road.”

“A murder,” Ruby told him.

Sabelle kept very quiet. She knew all this. The death had been her ticket from the Beyond to Ryan's world.

“A student out alone. He was stabbed to death.”

They both shook their heads in silent mourning for the student neither had known.

“I figured it had to be something bad with that many cops responding.” He paused, glancing at Sabelle. “When I got to Love's, I heard a scream. That's how I found her.”

Ruby looked startled, then confused. “What do you mean, ‘found her'?”

He stopped what he was doing and faced them both. Frowning, Ruby cut her gaze between her brother and his new friend. Sabelle decided now would be a good time to try the coffee. She took a drink and her taste buds sent a battery of reactions to her brain. Bitter. Hot. Creamy. Strangely . . . good. Surprised, she smiled.

Ryan met Ruby's gaze over Sabelle's head and shrugged.

Sabelle could feel the intensity in their interest. She knew it was her turn to talk, to fill in the blanks. But she couldn't tell the truth and she hadn't had time to compose a believable lie—even if she thought she could get away with telling it. She cleared her throat and said, “I was hiding.”

Surprise widened Ryan's eyes but he didn't contradict her. When the silence stretched, she tacked on, “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Ruby asked. “Did you see the murder? Did you know the boy who was killed?”

“No. But I knew it was happening so I got away.”

Not quite a lie. She could see Ryan parsing her words, weighing the true against the false. He was good at it, but she knew he'd never piece together the whole story from what she'd said. In a million years he'd never guess she'd used the reaper coming to claim the boy's soul as public transportation out of the Beyond.

She could scarcely believe it herself.

Ryan made a sound and shook his head before turning away. He stepped through a door with the word
Pantry
etched on the smoky glass inset, and an uncomfortable silence waited for his return. She could feel Ruby watching her, gauging her reactions. Sabelle sat still, trying to look human. She had no idea if she was succeeding or not.

Ryan came out of the pantry with a jar of peanut butter. He already had the lid off and his finger in his mouth.

“She's lying,” Ruby said, pulling her gaze from Sabelle and leveling it at her brother.

“I know,” Ryan answered calmly.

Sabelle became very interested in her coffee.

“You can sit there looking innocent all you want,” Ruby went on. “It won't do you any good.”

“I don't know what you mean,” Sabelle said, lifting her chin.

“He knows when you're lying,” Ruby explained calmly.

Sabelle swallowed hard. “It's the truth. I was scared.”

“You still are,” Ryan responded, pulling a knife from the drawer.

“Yes.”

Ruby was still watching her. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she looked at Ryan. “She reminds me of someone,” she said pointedly.

A silent message passed between them. Ryan shook his head. “Not even a little bit.”

“How do you know who I'm talking about, then?” Ruby retorted.

“Who do I remind you of?” Sabelle interrupted, confused and curious.

“No one,” Ryan answered. Ruby said nothing.

Who were they talking about? Sabelle had only seen one long-term girlfriend in Ryan's life and they'd broken up after college. Ryan had loved that one even after she'd broken his heart.

“Callie?” Sabelle asked.

Ryan's head snapped up at the same time that Ruby's head whipped around.

“No,” Ruby said. “The other one.”

What other one?

Ryan eyed her suspiciously before switching his focus back to Ruby. “I thought Sabelle might be hurt,” he said, deliberately changing the direction of the conversation. “So I took her upstairs. She said I needed to get out or I was going to die.” He set down the knife and braced his hands on the counter. Sabelle heard him draw in a deep breath. “She was right.”

Ruby leaned forward. “How would you know that?”

“I smelled the gas,” Sabelle answered, pleased with the quick thinking.

Ruby just stared at her like she had two heads and neither one of them was working.

“Sabelle convinced me to get out and a couple of minutes later the whole place blew,” Ryan said, saving her from answering.

“Oh my God,” Ruby said. “You're serious?”

“As a fucking heart attack.”

Ryan pulled paper plates from a cabinet, put a piece of peanut butter toast on each one, and brought them to the table. Distractedly, Ruby lifted hers and took a bite. Sabelle thanked him.

He sat across from her and ate. The warm peanut butter dripped and he licked his fingers before washing it down with coffee. He caught her staring again. Instead of the mocking smile she'd come to expect, he blushed. The warm wash of color did strange things to her insides. It made her want to reach over and touch his face, feel the heat beneath her fingers, stroke the shadow of beard on his jaw.

Disconcerted by the power of her desire, she focused on eating. The peanut butter had a rich taste she'd never imagined. It stuck to the roof of her mouth and filled the hollow in her belly. Warmed, it managed to drip on her fingers. She understood why Ryan had to lick them.

“I'm sorry about Love's, Ruby,” Ryan said when he'd finished his toast. His voice was low, his words heartfelt.

Ruby shrugged. “You didn't blow it up.”

But he still felt responsible. Sabelle knew him enough to have guessed that.

“We're not going to break even with the insurance. You know that, right?”

“We'll sell the house to make up the difference.”

Ryan hung his head. “I'm sorry.”

“Ry,” Ruby said, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “We've been lugging the pub and the house around like a ball and chain for years. We just didn't want to admit it. Dad made us feel like the bar was family. Like if we gave it up we'd be losing our heritage. But it's not true.
We're
our heritage. Love's is just a bar.”

“Not anymore. Now it's a pile of ash.”

“It always was. I think the life went out of it with Grandpa, if you want the truth. Don't think I don't know about that escape fund you've been padding for months.”

Ryan's jaw dropped with surprise. “You know about the money?”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “I have one, too, and now we both have the chance to use it and do something with our lives. The point is, this is a
good
thing. With just the two of us working there now, it was too much. This fire makes walking away easy.”

Sabelle waited for Ryan to speak. Ruby's words had upset him. She could see it. But beneath she sensed reluctant relief. Everything Ruby said was true. Sabelle had watched him toil, watched him try to make ends meet, watched him struggle with a burden he'd resented carrying even as he felt compelled to shoulder it.

“You'd give up just like that?” he asked at last.

Ruby nodded. “And so should you. So
would
you if you weren't so stubborn.”

“I agree with Ruby,” Sabelle offered. The two Love siblings turned their attention on her and she wished she'd kept her opinion to herself, yet she didn't call the words back or look away when Ryan locked eyes with her.

“Why is that?” he asked coldly.

“You haven't been happy there for years,” she answered.

“I have too.”

“Liar,” Ruby said before Sabelle dared.

Ryan looked like he couldn't decide whether to argue or relent. The pub had meant family to him since he was a young boy. Giving up one was like giving up on the other.

Ruby finished her toast and let loose a long, jaw-­popping yawn. She stood, rinsed her cup, and put it in the dishwasher before facing her brother.

“You remember I'm leaving for Vegas in the morning, right?”

He frowned, then nodded. “Your friend's wedding.”

“I can cancel if you need me to stay and help with things.”

“Nah. We'll be dealing with the crap for a long time. Go. Have fun.”

“You sure?”

“Go.”

“Okay. Lena is picking me up at eight, so I'm going to try to get a few more hours' sleep.” She paused. “Ryan . . . This . . . what happened tonight . . . it isn't a failure unless you want it to be.” She leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “Love you.”

“Me, too.”

She smiled, kissed him again, and said, “Get some sleep, Ryan. It won't seem so bad in the morning.”

Sabelle didn't think that was true, but she couldn't help liking Ryan's sister for having said it.

At the bottom of the stairs, Ruby paused. “Sabelle?”

Sabelle looked up, surprised and wary.

“Thanks for saving his life. I owe you one.”

A bubble of disbelief caught in Sabelle's throat. “You're welcome.”

R
uby took all the conversation with her, leaving Ryan and his mystery woman alone in the quiet. He leaned against the counter in front of her, watching as Sabelle sipped her coffee. She was so easy on the eyes that he couldn't help but look. Even banged up and smudged around the edges, she was the kind of beautiful that made a man stop everything that didn't involve just
looking
.

Maybe it was the fragile quality about her, the air of vulnerability that pulled at him. Not helpless. Not weak, but a little desperate. She needed help and that spoke to him on a level he couldn't control.

She knew it, too. She was aware of him, aware of her effect on him. She'd sized Ryan up as soon as they'd slowed down long enough for her to catch her breath. He was big, a little angry at the world, at himself, maybe even her . . . but none of that seemed to stop her from getting under his skin. She'd done it quickly, effortlessly. He was intrigued, attracted, and somehow at her mercy—and she'd done it all in a matter of minutes.

So far she'd seemed too busy to capitalize on it, though. She'd entered the house like she'd never walked through a door before, and now that she had, she couldn't wait to do it again. Coffee, conversation,
toast . . .
She partook like it was a once-in-a-lifetime novelty she didn't want to miss. In another woman, it might have seemed disingenuous, but Sabelle came across as so innocent that he had a hard time doubting her sincerity. She was either the best actress alive or . . . Ryan rubbed took a drink of coffee. He didn't know what came after
or
.

His gaze tangled with hers for the hundredth time. She was into him, too. He'd have picked up her signal from across a crowded room, it shone so bright. She made him feel needed . . . protective . . . male in all the primitive ways men weren't supposed to feel anymore. The kind that made a man want to
take
instead of
ask
. Any minute now, he was afraid he might throw her over his shoulder and haul her off to his cave.

She finished the toast he'd made her and sucked a glob of peanut butter off her finger. He didn't even realize how intently he was watching until she looked up and blushed.

They were both doing a lot of that. The air between them felt electric. It sparked with every glance, every chance contact.

“You still hungry?” he asked in a voice that shouldn't have been so low and husky.

She shook her head. “Thank you for the food.”

“You're welcome.”

He reached over and brushed a crumb from the corner of her mouth, just for the excuse to touch her. Jesus, her lips were soft, her surprised breath so very warm. He made himself sit back again. But that's as far as his control extended. He couldn't stop his thoughts from picking up where he'd left off. Touching, baring . . . tasting. A man could lose himself in the sweet scent of her skin. He wished he could do just that.

But Sabelle wasn't simply a woman who'd wandered into Love's looking for a cocktail and a hookup. She'd come looking for
him
, to
save him
,
she'd said. And that's what she'd done. It was the
how
and
why
of it that begged an answer.

Wariness moved across her features as he let the silence stretch. She shifted uncomfortably, opened her mouth as if to speak, and closed it again in silence. Her fidgeting only served to fan the slow-burning fuse inside him.

“You going to tell me?” he asked at last.

“Tell you what?”

“What you're scared of, for starters.”

She raised her brows. “You almost died tonight. Isn't that scary enough?”

“From where I was standing, so did you. How'd you know it was going to happen?”

Her gaze slid away, skimming past Ryan until it settled on Brandy, snoozing at her feet. She bent down and stroked the dog's fur. Stalling.

“I got nothing but time, Sabelle.”

She snorted softly, the sound disdainful. But when she looked up, he saw apprehension rather than derision on her face.

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “How'd you know what was going to happen tonight?”

“You look very judgmental,” she said. “It makes me feel that you won't listen to my answer with an open mind.”

He didn't bother responding to that. He probably did and he probably wouldn't. She had the cagey, nervous body language of someone who wasn't good at lying but still felt the need to do it.

“Tell me anyhow.”

At last she lifted her chin and met his eyes. That was her
tell.
The straight-on stare and stubborn chin gave her away every time.

“When you found me tonight,” she said, “I was coming from somewhere else.”

Everyone came from somewhere else, but he wasn't going to fight over that detail. He had bigger questions in mind. “Why weren't you wearing any clothes?”

Head bent, she watched her fingers worry the hem of her borrowed shirt. “I was forced to leave without time to prepare,” she murmured at last.

Pretty much the same crock of shit he'd sold to the police earlier. “You needed to prepare to not be naked?” he asked, trying to be gentle while still pinning her down. The answer would determine what came next.

Her lips moved but she changed her mind before she spoke. Ryan knew that
those
words—the ones she'd kept inside—were the ones he needed to hear, but he had no idea how to extricate them from the tension that surrounded her.

“Come on, snowflake,” he said softly. “Don't make me pull it out of you. I'm not going to help you if you don't tell me.”

“Who says I need your help?” she demanded.

“Snowflake, you are the definition of
needs help
.”

The chin came up again, but she wasn't as steady as she pretended, even though she'd tossed the challenge like she had an army behind her to rally to her call.

He tipped his head, snaring her defensive gaze with a sideways glance. “Tell me.”

Her eyes grew big. Liquid. So blue he thought he might drown in them if he didn't look away. She lifted her shoulder. “Why would you help me?”

“You saved my life. I'm indebted.”

She nodded, accepting the answer at face value. Yet she lowered her lashes, hiding her thoughts. Ryan crouched in front of her chair, weight on the balls of his feet. He used her legs to turn her body so her feet were between his, her knees almost brushing his chest. He left his fingers curled around her calves as he waited her out.

A heavy sigh and then: “I do need help,” she said in a low voice. “It's not only your life in danger now.”

“Mine isn't in danger anymore,” he corrected, still speaking in those careful tones.

“I'm afraid that isn't true. Because of me.”

“Does someone want to hurt you, Sabelle?”

The thought of it made his throat tighten and hot anger slide down his spine. Her chin dipped. Was that a nod?

“I'm a fugitive,” she said, her voice so soft he wasn't sure he'd heard right. “An escaped prisoner.”

Not what he'd expected. Not anything close to it.

“It would be great if you could be a little more specific,” he teased, though he wanted to pressure her. “Is a SWAT team going to be busting down my door or did you run away from home?”

“I'm serious.”

“So am I.”

“I'm not a criminal, if that's what you're asking me. I was targeted and taken.”

The conversation had taken a wild turn, and suddenly thoughts of abducted women forced into prostitution and slavery filled his head. Girls kept in dark basements who were sometimes found years later, sometimes never. The ones who emerged as grown women and didn't know where they belonged anymore.

He thought of the bruises on Sabelle's skin, the cuts he'd seen before the explosion. The strangely wondrous look on her face as she sat at his table with Brandy at her feet and clothes on her body.

He took her hands in his, his breath trapped in his chest. A hundred questions shuffled through his head, all too pointed, too horrible to ask.

“What . . . how did you escape?”

“I had help. A friend. She told me how to get away, where to go. She told me to come to you.”

Her fingers felt icy. He rubbed them in the warmth of his.

“Why me?” he asked.

“Because you would've died if I hadn't.”

“How do you even know me?”

She stared at her hands, clasped in his. Ryan's patience was thin and brittle, but he forced a bland expression. Inside, though, turmoil churned.

“I've always seen you, Ryan,” Sabelle murmured. “Since before your brother and sister died. The first time, I mean.”

He stood abruptly. He'd moved away before he even realized he'd intended to.

“No,” she said quickly. “You don't understand. It's why I'm so valuable.”

“What's why?” he demanded, the soothing tones lost in his anger.

He'd known it from the start—that she was like the other lunatics who haunted Love's looking for a glimpse of the infamous twins who'd cheated death so many times. But Reece was dead—the permanent kind of dead—and Roxanne gone, largely because of the stalkers who wouldn't leave her alone. He'd pegged Sabelle as one of
them
in those first few minutes after meeting her. Yet she'd somehow won him over, made him forget.

“I see things, Ryan,” she said urgently. “Things that haven't happened yet. Things that are yet to come. Do you understand?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“I knew Love's was going to blow up because I'm a seer.”

“A seer,” he repeated, nonplussed. “You mean you're a psychic?”

“In a way. A powerful one. I was held captive because what I see comes true.”

“And you busted out of prison to come save me,” he said in tones so cold they made her flinch.

He couldn't help it. He was angry and confused. He wasn't even certain what they were talking about anymore. He'd gone from thinking the worst to absolute bewilderment. What did any of this have to do with him? With his brother and sister? With Love's exploding?

“Do you know what it means to know the future?” she asked, her voice vibrating with her emotion. She pushed out of her chair and came to stand in front of him. “Do you understand the power that can be wielded by knowing what's going to happen tomorrow? Next week? Next
year
?”

Her gaze was steady now; her voice no longer wavered. She stood tall and proud, and so fucking beautiful that he had to look away.

“Do you?” she demanded.

He nodded slowly. “I can guess.”

“I see the future,” she said again, forcefully, angrily. “And I am never wrong.”

“Never?”

She shook her head. All the antsy body language had faded away, but the desperation . . . it was still there, glowing brightly in those baby-blue eyes.

“I came to save you because I knew you would save me.”

“Because you saw it?” he said evenly.

“Because I see
you.
I know what kind of man you are. You wouldn't,
couldn't
, turn away a woman in need.”

“Don't count on it.”

“I
am
counting on it. I've bet my life on it.”

The impassioned words echoed in the quiet kitchen and Ryan felt the reverberation down to his soul.

“You saved my life so you could use me?”

She didn't look away, but she wanted to. He could see the shame in her gaze, see the stain of it creep up her throat.

“Yes.”

The truth at last.

It was ugly, but the confession had defused his anger.

“I don't like lies,” he said.

“I know that.”

“You don't know me at all.”

Her gaze swept him, head to toe. Fearless, almost insolent. Wisely, she kept whatever she was thinking to herself.

“Where is this place where you were held? Why don't you want me to call the police on them?”

“The police can't help me. I told you that.”

“What makes you think
I
can?”

“I won't ask for much. I just need you to take me someplace.”

“Where?”

She shrugged uncertainly. “I'm not sure exactly.”

“It's going be pretty hard to find it, then.”

“I've seen signs,” she said. “They appear in my visions when I'm not expecting them. They're always the same, though. Someplace in the north.”

“North?” he said with disbelief. “That covers a lot of territory.”

“It's a place where the mountains are red and the sky is so blue it doesn't look real. My intuition tells me it's not far from here. I'll know it when I see it.”

His brows shot up. “What happens when you get there?”