Spying his keys on the kitchen table, I snatched them up. “I’ll borrow yours. I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”
“Wait! Sage!” Ryker grabbed my arm in a tight grip.
“Let me go!” I tried to jerk my arm away, but he held on tight.
“I’m not just letting you walk out of here,” he said. “Not until you listen to me.”
“I don’t want to listen to you!” I was getting seriously pissed. “What do you want from me, Ryker?” I struggled against his hold, frustrated at getting nowhere.
“I want you to stay alive!”
We both heard the growling at the same time. I turned and saw McClane, his teeth bared and his ears laid flat against his head. A continuous low growl issued from his throat, but it wasn’t directed at me.
He was looking at Ryker.
Ryker froze. “Easy, McClane,” he said.
At his name, the dog barked twice, then growled again, louder.
I swallowed. The sight of the dog’s pointy teeth made me feel light-headed. McClane barked again and took a menacing step closer.
Ryker let me go, then took a slow step back, away from me. “Easy,” he said again to the dog.
Saved by the canine dropout. Huh. Who’d have thought?
I didn’t waste time, heading out the door and to Ryker’s truck. A moment later, I was speeding away from his house.
* * *
I didn’t feel comfortable going back to my place, so I drove to the gym and used the locker room to shower and get ready for work. After that, there was no time for my coffee run and I was racing into work just…I glanced at my watch…two hours late.
After the disastrous New York trip, the rejection Thursday night and argument Friday, Hanna’s murder in my own apartment—now I’d slept with Parker’s arch nemesis and was late to work.
He was going to be in such a pissy mood.
Out of breath, I shoved my purse into the bottom drawer of my desk and plopped my butt in my chair. The phone was ringing on two lines and I grabbed one of them as I glanced into Parker’s office.
“Parker Anderson’s office,” I answered.
Parker was standing at his paper-strewn desk, a sheaf of folders in his hand, and he was looking at me. His jaw was set tight, his lips pressed together, his whole body tense.
“I’m sorry, he’s not available,” I said, reading Parker’s body language. No way would he want to deal with Peterson from Contracts right now. “May I take a message?”
I tore my gaze from Parker’s and scrawled some words on my notepad. “Yes, sir. I’ll tell him.” I hung up.
By now, the other call had gone to voice mail and when I dialed in, I had fourteen messages for Parker. I was in the middle of writing the last one down when I sensed someone standing in front of me. I knew without looking that it was Parker. I swallowed hard.
The recording ended and I didn’t want to hang up the phone, but there was no sense in putting it off. Very softly, I placed the handset in its cradle, took a deep breath, and raised my eyes to meet Parker’s.
“I need these files consolidated and sent to Accounting,” he said, handing me the stack. “And my two o’clock called to cancel. Reschedule him for tomorrow or Monday.” He continued with more instructions and I jotted them down, glad he wasn’t going to say anything else about this morning, but that relief was short-lived.
“Lastly,” he said, and his change of tone had me glancing up. “What you do in your personal time is your business.” Oh really? Since when? “I just ask that it not interfere with your work. Being late because you…slept in”—his tone plainly said what he believed I’d been doing this morning, and it wasn’t sleeping—“is unacceptable. Am I making myself clear?”
Okay, now I was getting pissed. Yes, I’d been late, but it wasn’t like I made a habit of it and he had given me the day off. And considering the weekend I’d had, he was way out of line.
“Yes, sir,” I bit out, just this side of polite. “I won’t be late again.”
Our eyes were locked and after a moment, he nodded. He turned away and headed for his office. Just before he stepped inside, he turned back to me.
“Don’t call me ‘sir’ anymore,” he said. The door drifted shut behind him.
I watched him through the glass as he sat behind his desk,