Page 42 of Forbidden Pawn

I can hear her voice rise from behind it, muffled and desperate, but I turn my back to her, my chest heaving with the force of my rage as I walk away.

Chapter 33

June

“Ryker! Ryker, please!”

I take a shaky breath, pressing my hands against the cold, unyielding door as I listen to Ryker’s footsteps fade.

The dim light creeping through the cracks of the door barely lets me see more than a few inches in front of me, but I step carefully into the shadows, scanning every inch of the room for anything that might help me escape—or defend myself if it comes to that.

But would he really come back to hurt me? I don’t want to believe that, but after the way he just looked at me, it’s not impossible. He has always suspected me and now I’ve proved him right. I’m such an idiot.

The room is unpleasantly empty, the walls bare and gray, with no window to let in even a sliver of daylight. It almost feels like a tomb. There’s an empty metal shelf tucked into one corner, dust gathering along its edges, and a stack of faded cushions shoved against the wall opposite the door. I step closer to inspect them, my hands trailing across the cold and dusty fabric. They appear frayed at the seams and a moldy smell reaches my nose when I get closer. I give them a little kick, half-expecting a cloud of dust to rise, but they just sag.

I hope he doesn’t expect me to sleep on these; I think bitterly, hugging my arms to my chest. He’s not going to let me stay here for the night, is he? He just needs to cool off. He likes me, I’m sure he does.

Or is it just that I like him? My heart aches at the thought. I feel like such a fool. What was I thinking when I came up withthis idiotic plan? How could I ever thinking I could win against a man like him?

The cool air in the room sinks into my skin, seeping through my clothes and I pace the room, running my hands along the walls, feeling for any weak spot, but it’s solid as stone.

My heart twists as I think back to how I ended up here. I was supposed to bring him down, avenge my father’s death. And now I’m trapped in his basement, just another victim of the ruthless Ryker Morris—and worse, my feelings for him are tangled in this mess, making it impossible to think straight.

What if I just told Ryker who I really am? What if I told him the truth about myself? He seems to think I’m a different danger to him, and I don’t want that. I don’t know what this whole mole-thing was all about, but it seems like he’s dealing with something else that’s endangering his operations—and if he is in danger, so am I, especially if he thinks I’m working together with whoever it is who is after him.

But I can’t betray my father like that. I’m here for a reason.

I sink down onto the dusty cushions, their musty scent filling my nose. They sag beneath my weight, and I let out a sigh as I lean back, staring at the dim ceiling. It would feel like a betrayal to give up on my plan, wouldn’t it?

My hand wanders to the little pendant on my bracelet, and even though I can’t see anything in the dark, I open it to reveal the tiny picture of my father, holding me on his lap when I was about six years old. It’s my favorite picture of the two of us, and even in this moment, I can feel the sense of support and strength evoking from it, settling on my skin, before it reaches my heart.

I need to get through to Ryker. I need him to understand that I’m not some mole planted to spy on him, at least not in the sense that he seems to think. But how do I convey that without revealing my true intentions? He won’t believe anything I say, and frankly, I can’t blame him for that.

I run a hand through my hair, as I deflate with a heavy sigh. It’s obvious that I can’t seduce him again—he’s wise to that now. But he is receptive to me and he must like me. The nights we shared, the conversations out in the garden, the playful banter… you don’t do that for a girl who means nothing to you. I mean something to him, I’m sure of it. He had no reason to be this sweet to me. His many attempts at keeping his distance from me never worked for long, and that can only mean one thing: He cares for me, way more than he might be willing to admit.

He cares for me.

My eyes widen as I realize the potential of that fact—and a plan materializes inside my mind.

I might just be able to navigate this mess after all. The thrill of a new possibility pushes aside the doubt for the moment, and I lean back against the icy wall behind my back with a smile on my face.

Chapter 34

Ryker

It’s been two days since I locked Grace in the forgotten room down in the basement, and I’ve felt like shit every single second since. The whole scenario gnaws at me constantly, clawing at my chest every time I so much as think of her sitting in that cold room. My mind keeps telling me I shouldn’t feel sorry for her. She’s a traitor, a fucking Venus trap that was set up to destroy me—and I stupid enough to fall for it.

But that dumb organ inside my chest insists otherwise. I’ve never felt pain like this before. My chest tightened and my heart subject to a thousand stabs every time I see her face before me. That fear, that utter horror… and the hope that seems to fade a little more every time I come down there to feed her or offer her a bathroom break.

It’s become harder every single time, and now that I’m standing in front of the door to the basement again, I know I can no longer do this. No matter what she may have been up to, I can’t stand the thought of her being down there in that cold, dark room. I’ve tried to make it more bearable for her, or as close to bearable as it gets. I brought her an extra blanket, more cushions to ease the discomfort, and even her e-reader after examining it to make sure it wasn’t capable of anything besides displaying books. There’s no reception down there anyway, so it’s harmless enough. At least she had something to pass the time in her windowless cell. My distrust in her was too big to let her back into the garden, so I took that from her, too.

My fingers tighten around the handle as I force myself to face reality. I can’t trust her. I have to remember that, even when I face her pitiful expression. Every sign points to her asthe mole that’s been leaking information and screwing up my operations. If she’s been working with her brothers, if she’s been spying on me this whole time, I’d be the biggest fool imaginable. And it would explain everything—their delayed concern, their lack of eye contact when they showed up, how they barely acknowledged her at all. It would explain so much.

I take a deep breath, open the door, and start descending the stairs one by one. My pulse speeds up with every step, and by the time I reach the door to Grace’s cell, my heart is basically sitting in my throat.

I take a deep breath and unlock the door to step inside, the dim light filtering in, casting shadows along the bare walls. Grace is curled up on the cushions, her Kindle resting on her lap, shielding her eyes from the sudden brightness. She looks up, and all I see is the exhaustion in her face, her spirit obviously worn thin from two days in this cold, empty room.

“Tell me the truth, and I’ll let you out,” I say, crossing my arms to steady myself. My voice comes out sharper than intended, and my chest tightens, just like it always does when I’m faced with her misery.

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