Resisting Ryann Page 9

  “Feeling better?” she asks, turning down the volume.

  I make my way to the kitchen and place the beer in the fridge then pop open a bottle. “Sure,” I tell her, striding toward the lazy boy.

  “You want to talk?”

  “Nope.” I take a seat without casting a glance in her direction. She wants my attention, and for some reason, it fuels my desire to be more of a dick.

  “You got enough to share?”

  Stretching my arms back, I kick my feet up on the footstool and gesture her toward the kitchen. “Yep.”

  “What’s with the attitude?” she huffs, getting off the couch. “I’m here to help you.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” I tell her, keeping my gaze on the screen.

  “No, but you need it.”

  I watch the actress shift out of her human form, pinning down a dude as she turns him. “What’s this movie called again?” I ask, glancing at Rachelle.

  Her lips are pursed. She swings her hair over her shoulder. “Are we going to talk about this, or are you going to ignore me the rest of the night?”

  I cock a brow. “Talk?” Tipping my beer toward the TV, I add, “Thought we were watching a movie.”

  “Okay.” She nods. “No biggie. I just figured you’d be interested in learning about the progress we’re making on the case.”

  She’s right; I’m interested. “You going to tell me about it?”

  “You going to stop being a dick?”

  I rub my chin. “That all depends on how much you tell me.”

  “Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way.”

  “How ‘bout you tell me what you want, and we’ll go from there.”

  She straightens her shoulders. “Open up a little. Talk to me. It’s all I ask. We don’t have to be best buds or anything,” she says, licking her lips. “Believe it or not, we’re going to need each other.”

  I don’t think so. “You want me to talk to you,” I confirm, raising my brows.

  “Yeah.”

  After pondering it, I tell her, “Fair enough. I’ll talk to you.” But I’m not giving her anything important.

  “Good.” She grins. “You know that ‘friend’ of mine your father had mentioned earlier?”

  “Earlier today when he dropped you off?” I raise my brows.

  “Yeah. We’re meeting tomorrow. He’s supposed to bring a small supply of AK

  47s. I told your father I had someone who could hook him up—someone I work with.”

  “How many guns is he looking to get?”

  “One-point-five mil worth.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” She grabs a couple more beers, bringing them over. “Anyway, my friend is actually an agent … well, several of them.” After handing me a beer, she sits back down. “Tomorrow they’ll tell me where to meet them and what to say to Glenn. If all goes well, we’ll go from there. Glenn wants to have the samples in his hands before he’ll agree to any trade. He’s careful that way.” She taps on her temple.

  “So if this deal goes through, they’ll charge him for what? Illegal gun trafficking?”

  “Yes.”

  “And the murder of Samuel?”

  “After we charge him for the guns, he’ll be interrogated for the murder of Samuel, as well as the conspiracy to commit murder on the rest of his family. We’ll also need your testimony.”

  “That won’t be a problem. What about Valdez and the coke?”

  “Valdez is another story,” she sighs. “From what I hear, it may never go through.” She spins her empty bottle on the table. “The kidnapping and murders are enough to put him away for good. He’s currently under surveillance. If they move in on him too soon, it’ll point directly to you.”

  “How’s that?” I cock a brow.

  “You raised a stink about the girl and lost your temper. Knocked out one of his men in one punch. It’ll make you look like the rat. It’s better they catch him in the act, otherwise you’re dead whether they’ve got him or not.”

  “When will you know more?” I ask, finishing off my beer, setting the bottle down beside me.

  “That all depends,” she says, shrugging. “I check in regularly. If they have something, they tell me.” Both of us are quiet for a moment until she adds, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  I lean back and rest my head in my hands, glancing at her. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

  She closes an eye hesitantly. “Are you gay?”

  “Wait, what?” I cough and laugh at the same time.

  “Gay,” she replies. “For instance, I know I’m attractive,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Most guys would take advantage of an opportunity to be with me. You brush me off. I’m not used to that.”

  I stare at her a minute. She obviously thinks pretty highly of herself. “I definitely must be gay then,” I scoff. “Look, I love women. I’ll always love women … just to make that very clear.”

  “Then I have another question.” She tilts her head. “Though I really don’t see you as the type.”

  “What type is that?” Kicking down the footstool, I sit up in my chair.

  “The relationship type. Are you committed to someone?”

  Meeting her eyes, I answer, “I don’t have time for relationships. They never work.” I won’t mention anything related to Reese. Rachelle goes back to Glenn tomorrow, and I still can’t say I trust her, though I’m starting to. She does seem to genuinely want to help.

  She frowns. “When was the last time you were with a woman?”

  I raise my brows, surprised by her invasiveness.

  “What?” Her eyes widen. “It’s an honest question.” Setting down her drink, she waits for my answer. I’m ready to call it a night.

  “I’m going to bed.” I stand up, cracking my neck from side to side, avoiding her eyes.

  “It’s still early,” she whines.

  “For who?”

  “Anyone under sixty. What is it with you?” She folds her legs up on the couch.

  “When you talk to your ‘friend’ about the guns, tell Glenn I’m going with you.” Tipping my head toward the hall, I ask, “Final offer … bed or the couch?”

  She frowns. “I can’t sleep yet. I’m still wide awake.”

  “Stay up then. If you can’t get comfortable, wake me up, and I’ll switch you.” I stride down the hall into my room, then pull the comforter off of my bed, taking it to her. “In case you get cold, though I doubt you’ll need it.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” She flicks her gaze toward the television, crossing her arms in a huff, then I leave her and head off to bed.

  “So what’s the hurry? What is it that brings us to this emergency coffee meeting?” I tease my dad. He called me up this morning asking if I’d meet him for coffee. He said he needed to talk to me. “To be honest, I thought you’d be bringing a woman—a new love interest perhaps.”

  His eyes crinkle at the sides. “With this?” he asks, gesturing toward his beard. “I doubt it.”

  Shaking my head, I reply, “Shave it off then, silly.” I sip on my latte and accidentally burn my tongue.

  “Personally, I’d rather get to know my daughter again.” His words warm my heart. “Which brings me to why we’re here.” He purses his lips, and his gaze drops to the table.

  “Uh oh,” I murmur uneasily. “You might as well spit it out instead of making me nervous.”

  “I’m leaving town for a while, but I wanted to see you before I left. Unfortunately, I won’t be making our usual routine.” His expression is sad, like he’s really going to miss me, and I realize I’m going to miss him too.

  “How long?”

  “I’m not sure yet … a couple of weeks maybe. A month at the longest.”

  “Is it something for work?” He does under the table detective work for a couple of friends on the police department.

  “More like an adventure.”

  My eyes widen. “An adventure, huh? Is this sort of like
a mid-life crisis kind of thing?”

  “No, nothing like that.” He pauses. “It’s just something I need to do … something I’ve been thinking about doing for a while.”

  “Okay.” I nod in understanding, though I’m a little confused. “Do you have a particular place in mind, or is this a spontaneous thing?”

  “There are a few places.” He takes a small sip of his coffee. “But wherever I end up, it may be hard to get ahold of me.” He opens his wallet and pulls out a card. “If there’s any kind of trouble while I’m gone, I want you to call this number. He’s a friend of mine.”

  I glance at the card, flipping it over. “I don’t get it?” I move my eyes back to him. “FBI? Is that really necessary?”

  “Regardless of how you see it, you’ll always be my little girl. You can never be too careful.” Putting his wallet back into his pocket, he adds, “Just put it away, and say you’ll use it if needed. It’s just a precaution.”

  “Okay,” I murmur softly, doing what he says before changing the subject. “Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I say, scooting closer. “I got ahold of Mom.”

  His brows lift. “Finally able to reach her, huh? How is she?”

  “Better than ever, actually. At least she seemed that way. It was refreshing to hear her so happy.”

  He pauses, leaning back in his chair. “That’s good.” Giving a single nod, he continues, “I’m glad to hear that.” A flash of jealously appears in his gaze then quickly goes away. I don’t think he’s ever fully moved on after splitting from my mother.

  I probably shouldn’t have said anything. “Yeah, me too.” I lick my lips, thinking of a way to fill the awkward silence. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

  His shoulders straighten. “Nothing until later.” Clearing his throat, he asks, “You?”

  “None for me either.” I sip my coffee. “Would you like to come by, see my place? I have the day off.” Ugh. Why do I sound so nervous?

  A wide grin stretches across his face. “Sure. I thought you’d never ask.”

  I smile back, and the tension inside me fades. After a few more minutes of talking, we finish our coffees, and he follows me back to my place.

  My father’s been silent since the moment he stepped inside, focusing on every little detail, from the spacious rooms to the hardware on the doors. I want him to tell me what’s going on in that head of his, because the silence is making me paranoid. I can barely stand another second of it.

  “Okay, tell me what you’re thinking.” I chew on my lip.

  He turns to me with his hands in his pockets. “I’m impressed. Do you always keep it this clean?”

  I sigh in relief. I’d just tidied it up this morning. “Most of the time,” I reply. This isn’t a lie.

  “It’s a lot cleaner than the home you grew up in. You definitely didn’t get that quality from your mom or me.” He chuckles lightheartedly. He’s not wrong about that.

  “No, I guess not,” I murmur.

  Heading back toward the living room, his eyes continue appraising the home. “Really, Reese, this is great. I’m happy for you.” His approval means more to me than I’d imagined.

  “Thank you. I love it here.” Stepping into the kitchen, I ask, “Can I get you something to drink? A water, or soda, maybe?”

  “I’ll take a water if it isn’t any trouble.”

  “Not at all.” I grab two bottles out of the fridge, bringing one over to him.

  “You said you own this free and clear?”

  “Yes, free and clear.” Saying the words out loud feels humbling.

  “And that’s a regular thing for Luke to do? Hand out free homes to beautiful women?” His eyes crinkle at the sides.

  It’s hard to hold back my grin. “I don’t think so.”

  “No, neither do I,” he replies. “Sounds like he really cares for you.” He walks over to the couch and takes a seat. “I hope you’re making the right decision in moving on,” he says, crossing an ankle over his knee.

  “Actually …” I sit in the spot beside him, hesitating at first. “I saw him.”

  His brows shoot up. “You saw him.” He watches my face curiously. “Well, how did it go?”

  “It was great until he had to leave again.” I shrug with a frown, then we both sit back. “One of the hardest parts is explaining it to someone who doesn’t understand him. There are a lot of important questions I don’t have the answers to, but I feel I need to trust him.” I look at my father. “Does that make sense?”

  “It does,” he murmurs back. “No one else would understand unless they were in your situation. Don’t let their reactions get to you.” He leans forward. “Do you love him?” His gaze stays with mine.

  “Yes. I’m in love with him.” Completely. I can’t believe I just said that to him.

  He nods. “Hold on to him then,” he says, patting me on the knee. “Good things come to those who wait.” Narrowing his eyes, he adds, “The other guy needs to go.”

  “The other what?” I tilt my head, confused for a second, before it finally registers. “You mean Sean?” I forgot I’d even mentioned him to my father. I think it’s cute he remembers and genuinely seams to care.

  Waving a hand, he says, “Whoever it was you were talking about the other day,” he grumbles. “The neighbor guy.”

  I laugh. “Sean and I are just friends. And I remember a time when you hated Luke.” I point at him.

  “No, I never hated the boy.” He shakes his head. “I was jealous. He was more of a man than I was—protecting you from me, and others when I wasn’t able to do it myself.” He grimaces. And there it is: the real reason he’s become so fond of Luke. He also blames himself for what happened with Ronald, which is ridiculous.

  “You’re definitely not the father I knew back then, but you’re right. He did protect me.”

  The door swings open, and we turn our heads as Gia and Logan step inside.

  “Well hello, Mr. Johnson,” Gia says with a bright smile. My dad stands up, and they meet in the middle, greeting each other with a warm hug.

  He places his hands on her shoulders. “Gia, so good to see you again.” His eyes lift to Logan’s. This must be …”

  “Logan.” He reaches out a hand, stepping forward.

  “That’s right,” my father says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” No, he hasn’t.

  “Uh oh,” Logan replies. “From who? Your daughter or Gia?” Logan’s eyes flick to mine.

  “Both.” My father laughs. “You’re the one who gives my daughter a hard time.”

  Logan stutters, and his face turns red.

  Ha! Take that!

  Looking toward me with a twinkle in his eyes, my father adds, “She could use a good teasing every now and then.” He winks.

  I roll my eyes. “Dad! Don’t encourage him.”

  Logan chuckles beside him. “I like this guy,” he tells me.

  “Reese was showing me your place. It’s a great little set up you have here.”

  “Thanks!” Gia replies. “We love it.”

  “That’s exactly what she said,” he says, referring to me before he sighs. “Well, it’s about that time.” He glances at me. “I better get going.”

  “Thanks for stopping by,” Gia tells him. “Though I wish we could have had a longer visit.” Her brows pinch together.

  He nods. “Next time.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Mr. J—”

  I walk my father to the door. “Thanks again for the coffee. Are you leaving tomorrow?” My voice squeaks a little.

  “I am,” he says lowly, waiting to see if I’ll go in for the hug for the first time since we’ve reunited. He’s always the first to reach in, this time holding me tighter. “I love you,” he murmurs.

  I nod, still unable to say it back, even though I know love him, too. I don’t know what’s wrong with me—why I can’t say it. Logan and Gia aren’t helping the awkward moment, standing there and watching us. “Bye Dad. Be safe.” There’s a lump i
n my throat while I gently pat him on the back.

  “You too.”

  I hear the emotion in his voice, before he backs away, and I watch him ‘til he’s gone.

  “I like him,” Logan says, resting his feet up on the coffee table, facing Gia and me in the kitchen.

  “Well, he seems to like you, too,” I reply. “It’s funny, both of you share the same opinion of Sean, and neither of you are willing to give him a chance.”

  Logan presses his lips together, raising his brows. “Cool, I like him even more,” he retorts. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to say ‘I told you so.’”

  “Thank you for that.”

  He nods. “You bet.”

  “Leave her alone,” Gia replies as she continues working on her homemade salsa.

  “It’s okay. I can handle him.” I don’t need her fighting my battles for me, even though she means well.

  “You sure?” She tilts her head.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” I’m not a wounded puppy, Gia, I want to say, but decide against it.

  She smiles. “Your dad’s really different,” she says, changing the subject. “In a good way, though,” she reassures.

  “I know. Crazy, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” She pauses, thinking. “Speaking of crazy, what’s up with the beard?” she asks, grabbing a handful of tomatoes.

  I snort out a laugh. “Believe me, I’ve asked him. He doesn’t give me a straight answer. He knows I hate it.”

  “I was going to say something about it,” Logan adds from the couch. “He hasn’t always had it?” He chuckles.

  “God no!”

  “That’s awesome!”

  “No, it’s not! I told him he should at least trim it up if he ever wants to get back into the dating pool.”

  Logan shrugs. “Maybe he wants to stay single.”

  I raise my brows. “It’s possible.”

  “Speaking of single …” He tips his head toward the window. “How’s Loverboy handling the news?”

  “Logan,” Gia interrupts, irritated.

  “It’s fine,” I tell her, walking to the couch to sit down beside him.