Page 54 of The Text

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

NOAH

Ryder is waiting for us when the plane touches down.

The weather’s a perfect seventy degrees with sunshine and no breeze. A sign of good things to come, I hope. As we were leaving New York, the skies opened up and hammered the city that never sleeps.

“Good flight?” Ryder asks.

“Yes,” I answer and shake his hand.

He and my brothers finish greeting each other while the chauffeur loads our things into the trunk. We pile into the back seat, and I ask Ryder, “Learn anything else?”

He grins. Ryder’s a year younger than me, and we’ve always been close. He’s a technology genius. Making his family millions by selling tech designs and stuff. Their dad, my uncle, started the company, and when Ryder and his brothers took over, things soared. Now it’s a billion-dollar business and growing.

“Didn’t learn too much more,” Ryder answers and hands me a piece of paper.

“Thanks.” I glance at it, fold it, and put it in my shirt pocket.

“This girl must be important.”

“You have no idea,” Blake says.

“Yeah,” Rob chirps and pretends to stick a finger down his throat and gag.

“That bad, huh?”

Rob over-exaggerates an eye roll and nods. I let it go and gaze emptily out the window because I understand who I’m dealing with. These guys are wolves, and if I get defensive, they’ll seek and destroy. Just not worth it at the moment.

Things grow quiet from there. Blake doesn’t like quiet, so he asks Ryder about the nightlife. That’s a conversation that’ll liven things up.

“You guys haven’t seen my new place yet, have you?” Ryder asks when the limo pulls up to his condo.

“No.”

“It’s nice.” He grins. “Twenty-six hundred square feet. Two bedrooms, two and a half baths. Concept kitchen, floor-to-ceiling windows.” The limo rumbles to a stop. “Hell. Why am I telling you about it? Let’s go see.”

The chauffeur is out of the vehicle and opening the door. “Will you let me borrow the car?” I ask Ryder.

“Of course. Yeah. For as long as you need.”

“Good luck, big brother,” Blake says.

“Yeah,” Rob states. “Go get her.”

“Thanks, guys.”

They pile out. The door closes. The driver gets in. Cranes his head. “Where to?”

I dig the paper from my pocket and hold it in my hands. My throat goes dry. Heart rate picks up. What if she wants nothing to do with me? Guess I’ll find out soon enough.

I look at the paper and give him the address.

He puts the car in gear.

We’re off.

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