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Let the bastard sweat it out.
“I’m about to turn up the heat on you, mate.”
Chapter Eleven
Nathalieexitedthebathroominto one of the two bedrooms and dropped her purse, jacket, and the bullet-proof vest on the taupe upholstered chair in the corner.
Through the open door to the living room, she noticed Ryder and Danny conversing in low voices.
An evening full of promise had turned into a nightmare.
Someone held a gun on Ravi, stole her software design, then waited outside and brandished his weapon instead of fleeing the scene.
Why? He’d gotten what he wanted.
Or at least, he thought he had.
Thank God Ravi was alive, and the thief didn’t know the design he’d stolen was incomplete.
When Danny left. Ryder closed the door, hooked the chain, and threw the deadbolt. Then he shocked her by resting his forehead against the metal door.
Maybe it was the way his shoulders drooped beneath his suit coat. Or maybe it was his brief show of vulnerability and her need to be comforted. She crossed into the living room and wrapped her arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze.
He flinched.
Nathalie dropped her arms and stepped back, frowning. “Are you hurt?”
“It’s just a bruise.”
“What kind of bruise?”
Ryder turned to face her. His hesitant look sent a prickle of unease across her shoulder blades.
“The shot grazed my side. It wasn’t close enough range to do any actual damage.”
“Shot?” Nothing registered after that word. Her voice rose to a screech. “You were shot?”
“I’m wearing a vest.”
As if that was supposed to make her feel better? “I want to see thisbruise,” she made finger quotes around the word.
He’d been shot, and he wasn’t going to tell her? Her fatigue deserted her in a tidal wave of anxiety.
His lips firmed. “Why?”
“I just need to see that you’re really okay. Please.”
Ryder gave a resigned sigh, took off his jacket with a grimace, and unbuttoned his shirt. He pulled it free from his trousers and shrugged it off his arms.
He’d strapped a white bulletproof vest beneath his dress shirt. His fingers went to his left side. At first, she thought he was fumbling with the Velcro straps, but then he plucked a small bit of lead from the vest and slipped it into his trouser pocket.
“Was that?”
The bullet.
Someone shot Ryder.
Spots danced in her vision, and she sucked in a deep breath.