Page 73 of Redemption

“Our chopper. Our SOP,” One said.

Great. He pinched his eyes shut, hearing Javier chuckle as he strapped in. The wind rushed through the open hatch as they gained altitude and headed home.

The crew stripped off Ryder’s shirt and body armor—Zoe’s note, which Ryder kept against his chest on every mission, whipped into the air current. His lethargic arms reached for it, and as the crew assessed that other than a few scratches, nothing was bruising or seemed broken, Ryder watched in slo-mo as it tossed in the wind.

“Wait.” He reached half-heartedly for it as it flew into the sky. No one noticed, and Ryder stared at the open hatch, waiting to feel upset that her note, one of his most treasured and only possessions from his teens, was gone.

But it didn’t come.

His heart smiled. That was the way Zoe would want to go, flying high in the clouds on the day he beat death. Somewhere, up there, she was soaring with the angels, no matter how much he wished she’d beat death too.

“Are you in pain?”

Ryder blinked, focusing on the man inches from his face.

“No.” He pushed the bloke away. “I’m—” Ryder eased up, sore but confident nothing was broken. “Fine.” Ryder muttered that their standard operating procedure check boxes had all been met. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it back on, then strapped in next to Javier and donned a headset.

“I’m back,” he said to whoever was listening.

“Javier mentioned you were having a private moment,” Brock said from HQ.

“Shove it, fuckwits.”

The laughter died down, and then Brock added, “Plan on a visit to Doc Tuska when you get back today.”

“Roger that.” Tuska wouldn’t tell him anything Ryder didn’t already know, but what everyone knew was if he blacked out or there was a question about a head injury, especially for a sniper, Delta would mandate downtime. He almost couldn’t hide his smile, not the reaction he expected, mostly because he planned to be on the first plane to America’s heartland. Time to find out about the flyover states—or state—he’d recently heard so much about.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The small office in the business park had been easy to find, and there was only one light on in the building at seven in the morning, only one car in the parking lot. There wasn’t much in way of security for the building, but the office park, just off of a strip mall in safe-and-secure, middle-America, where most everyone likely left their doors open at night, didn’t seem to have top-level security. Whoever came in the building first unlocked the front door. Their three-story professional office didn’t have an elevator but was clean and economical—exactly the type of place a private investigator might set up shop.Somewhere with no fuss.

Ryder already had a folder of details on Victoria, where she lived, where she worked, what she drove. When she hadn’t been home, this was his next stop.An early bird.Somehow, he hadn’t expected that. But learning about her was half the fun—just like learning about this town. Sweet Hills, Iowa: a place he couldn’t say he thought he’d ever visit.

He bounded up the stairs to her third-floor office. Maybe surprise wasn’t the best idea.But, yeah. It probably was.After all, she’d said to give her time before he dropped by. Who dropped by Iowa? And she’d said it with a tinge in her voice that he couldn’t place.

Either way, Ryder didn’t listen. He didn’t want to be that far away from her. He liked how she smiled, how she kissed, how she tasted. And even if she didn’t want someone to check up on her, he wanted to do that too.

The office doors had names etched into clouded glass, and he passed by an accountant and a legal aid office. Their dim shadowed doors bespoke the time of day, but the end of the hall, one door was lit.

Victoria Massey: Investigative Services

His lips curled. It was cool. There was a streak of badass in her that he admired, and it didn’t matter that she’d hit a mental road bump. The girl had been sideswiped with a hellacious hit. But still she stood, ready to get back at it.Badass and admirable.Parker had mentioned she taught self-defense at the community center. Again, he grinned. She knew what she was doing and wasn’t greedy with the know-how.

He knocked twice before twisting the doorknob, but it didn’t turn. He pulled out his wallet and a credit card, sliding it between the doorjamb and lock, letting himself in. “Hey, surprise. Guess who.”

The sitting area had a small couch and end table with a lamp and an office off that. Her head popped out the door opening, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. “Ryder!”

“Hi ya.”

“What are you doing here?” Wild, round eyes and outstretched arms were the first thing he took notice of as she surged from her office, not questioning that he’d let himself through the door and jumped into his outstretched arms.

“Thought I’d say hey.”

Her eyes assessed the scratches and a cut on his face. “I’m glad. Really glad to see you.”

Her nose buried against his neck, sugar-sweet lips trailing against the collar of his T-shirt in a way that ran straight to his groin. “Me too, love. Me too.”

He lifted her in a hug, breathing her in. It’d been too long since he’d dropped her off at the airport. “I needed to see for myself.”

---