Page 32 of Redemption

“It’s not that. It’d have been a messy kill.” He shifted. “Literally or figuratively. That’s the stuff that gives people nightmares, no matter how much the bastard deserved to die.”

She blinked, trying to wrap her head around all the ways he was protecting her.

“You don’t want that on your hands, even if you really do.”

Victoria swallowed around the lump in her throat. “That’s why you’re helping me?”

He lifted a powerful shoulder. “I guess.”

“Then you should leave.”

Surprise marred his chiseled face. “What? Why?”

Or maybe she should. Victoria scrambled to her knees. “I don’t want to be protected. I want to be… propelled. To be lifted, empowered.”

Ryder caught her arm. “Killing someone isn’t empowering.”

“Neither was letting the bastard live,” she challenged him, tense and feeling it in every muscle.

“Victoria.” His thumb moved, smoothing back and forth, and his grip wasn’t harsh. But he didn’t let go. “You were in a no-win situation, and I hate that for you.”

Her head dropped. Why couldn’t there be a simple answer? Almost like a get-out-of-jail-free card from a game, and if she found it, the burden pressing on her chest would melt away...

“Let’s drop it. For now.”

She brought her head up and let him meet her eyes. “He’s alive.”

“A painful truth that I hate you have to live with.”

Reality made her cringe, caving toward him like he might hold her up, which was absurd because she could survive herself.

“How about,” Ryder said quietly, letting go of her arm and leaning close, “we go back up, raid Mia’s kitchen, and find ice cream or something?”

She wasn’t hungry. She wanted to… to… she didn’t know what she wanted to do. But there was something about their proximity, the blanket of the night, how his hand eased her mind, and the comfort she found in his touch. Sitting next to Ryder in the dark was better than a bowl of ice cream. “Tell me something?”

“Hm?”

“How often do you hang with women you save?”

“You’re my first.” He leaned enough so that their shoulders kissed. “Not my standard operating procedure.”

She smiled. “What is?”

“Opened my big, fat mouth, huh?” He dropped his head back. “Guess I don’t have one.”

“Ever been in love?”

“No.”

“That was quick.”

“Have you?” he returned.

She shook her head, still smiling. “But I didn’t choke on my tongue to get it out.”

“Any guy would be lucky, love.”

“Ah, now you’re just being nice because you’re stuck out here with me. Used, ruined, couldn’t-save-herself-when-it-counted, little old me. Such a prize.”

---