Chapter 4: The Grip of the Storm

Gianna’s POV 

My back was pressed hard against Ryker’s chest. The heat radiating off his bare skin was suffocating, cutting off the air in my lungs faster than the panic from the text message. His fingers were dug deep into the fabric of my oversized hoodie, holding me so securely my toes barely brushed the floor.

"Let go of me," I choked out, twisting violently in his grasp.

"Quiet," he ordered, his grip tightening until it was impossible to move. He didn't sound angry anymore—his voice was flat, lethal, and entirely focused. He had detected my panic, and a guy like Ryker Barrett didn't ignore a threat in his own space.

He reached around my waist with one long arm, his large hand sweeping across the dark granite island until his fingers wrapped around my vibrating phone.

"No!" I gasped, reaching for it, but he held the screen high above my head, out of reach.

The gray light from the window caught his sharp profile as he stared down at the screen. The blue light of the phone illuminated his stormy eyes. I watched his jaw clench, a hard, vicious line forming around his mouth as he read the words.

“Nice try with the black hair, Gianna. But a thief can’t hide forever. See you very soon.”

The silence in the kitchen was heavy, broken only by the sound of my ragged breathing.

Ryker slowly lowered his arm, but he didn't let go of my waist. He turned me around in his grip until I was forced to face him. He backed me up against the edge of the granite island, trapping me between the cold stone and his massive body.

"Gianna," he said, the name rolling off his tongue like sin. "The text doesn't say Cole. It says Gianna. Who is after you?"

"Give me my phone, Ryker," I whispered, my teeth chattering from a mix of adrenaline and fear. "It's a wrong number. It’s an ex-boyfriend. It’s nothing."

"Don't lie to me," he growled, leaning down until his forehead almost touched mine. "An ex-boyfriend doesn't talk about a thief or a change of hair color. You're running from something heavy. Is it the cops? The mob? What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything!" I yelled, the frustration bursting out of me. I pushed against his solid chest, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. "You don't know anything about me. You wanted me to stay out of your way, so let me go!"

"I can't stay out of your way if your baggage is knocking on my front door," Ryker snapped, his gray eyes flashing in the dark. "I have too much on the line this season to get dragged down by whatever messy closet you’re trying to lock up."

Before I could answer, a sudden, blinding flash of light pierced through the kitchen window from the quad below.

We both froze.

Down on the snow-covered pavement, three stories below our suite, a dark black sedan was idling near the entrance gates. A man in a heavy winter coat was standing beside the driver's door, holding a professional camera with a massive telephoto lens pointed directly up at our window.

The camera flashed again, capturing the clear silhouette of the university’s star hockey captain pinning a girl against the kitchen counter in the middle of the night.

Ryker let out a string of vicious curses. He grabbed my shoulder, dragging me flat against the floor as he reached up and slammed the dark blinds shut, plunging the kitchen back into total blackness.

"They followed you here," he whispered, his chest heaving as he stood over me in the dark.

"No," I whispered back, my voice breaking as tears of frustration finally threatened to spill. "That’s not for me. Those are paparazzi. They’re looking at you."

Ryker didn't answer for a long moment. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his own phone, and checked the screen. A live alert from a major sports blog was already flashing on his display.

He stared at it, then looked down at me in the dark, a cold, calculating look taking over his face.

"You're right," Ryker murmured, his voice suddenly dropping into a chillingly calm register. "They're here for me. But they just saw you. And you just gave me the exact code to fix this mess."