8

Ryder opened his beer and took a big sip before he went behind his desk and sat down. He leaned back in the chair and it creaked under his weight, then he fixed his eyes on her. “Did you know that your father and mine used to be very close friends?” he asked. 

Amelia blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt shift from small talk to family history. She shifted slightly against the firm back of her chair. “I… I'm not sure. I might have met your father when I was much younger, or maybe not. I left Blackridge many years ago for university, and my holidays were always spent traveling with my mother.”

“They were close,” Ryder said flatly. “Close enough that when the club lost its old ground twelve years ago, your father didn't hesitate to let my father have the warehouse. Their friendship as well as the agreement was built on trust.”

Amelia managed a thin smile, “I’m sure it was a nice friendship, Mr. Kane. But I don’t understand why you’re bringing it up now.”

“I’m bringing it up because I knew Thomas Carter,” he said, leaning forward until his forearms rested flat against the desk. “And I know for a fact he wouldn't want the Iron Vipers kicked out into the dirt if he were still alive today.”

Amelia’s brows drew together into a  frown. She straightened her spine, her eyes flashing. “Are you suggesting that you knew my father better than I did?”

“No,” Ryder replied, “I’m just trying to make you see the point.”

“And what exactly is that point?” she demanded harshly. 

Ryder’s jaw clenched, and a muscle jumped in his cheek as his patience began to fray. “My point, Miss Carter, is that the land might be legally yours on a piece of paper, but the Iron Vipers have poured twelve years of sweat, blood, and money into this property. Asking us to just pack up and vanish into thin air isn't just inconvenient. It is unjust and unfair.”

“So what?” Amelia’s voice rose, sharp and biting. “You’re asking for financial compensation?”

He shook his head. “It’s not just about the money, damn it.” He said, “I can understand why you'd think that, but this isn't just an investment portfolio to us. This place is home. These men are a family. We can't just get up and leave because you've decided that you want a trendy vacation spot built over our lives.”

“I’m sorry,” Amelia said, even as she tried to suppress her rising temper as she sat across the desk. “I am genuinely sorry, mostly about the people who live here, but I can't let you stay. A motorcycle club doesn’t fit into the vision I have for the resort.” she began counting on her fingers, “It doesn’t fit the aesthetic, it doesn’t fit the luxury market. It wouldn't appeal to the customers. It simply doesn't fit in.”

Ryder’s eyes went dark, and it seemed like a storm breaking across the surface of a frozen lake, “Why?” he asked and his voice rose. “Is it because we’re not fancy people like you? We're not good enough to be seen by the people who'll be invited to your perfect resort?” He scoffed, and it sounded like mockery, “You know, that's the thing about you rich, privileged folks. You parachute in from the city, look down your nose at the people in a town you know absolutely nothing about, and try to bulldoze everything just to line your pockets! You don’t know its struggles. You don’t know how the people here survive. You just come down here and—”

“I am not looking down on anyone!” Amelia yelled back, her chest heaving as she pointed an accusing finger at him. “Don’t you dare accuse me of something so horrible!”

“I will do whatever the hell I want!” Ryder bellowed. He stood so abruptly that his chair slammed against the wall, startling Amelia, then he came around the corner, crossing the distance between them in a few strides. Before she could blink, he slammed both of his palms flat against the arms of her chair, trapping her in the narrow space between the seat and his hard, muscular chest. He leaned down, his shoulders caging her in, forcing her to look straight into his furious grey eyes.

Amelia didn't move. She couldn't. There was nowhere to go. Her heart began hammering against her ribs, and her breathing turned shallow and frantic. Yet, through the sudden spike of adrenaline and fear, stubborn pride glued her feet to the floor. The heavy scent of cedar and raw, masculine anger enveloped her entirely. A vein throbbed in his jaw, and his gaze roamed over her face, tracing the rise and fall of her chest.

“I know you plan to take us to court if we refuse to leave,” Ryder hissed, “And a rich lady like you, I’m sure you’ve got the best, top-tier lawyers just waiting to take up the case, but here's the thing, lady, so do I. We’re not leaving this property. We will fight you tooth and nail for every square inch of it. And until this matter between us is settled in a courtroom, if you or any of your shiny city contractors so much as lay a finger on this warehouse or disrupt a single one of our operations... you’ll answer directly to me.”

He leaned closer, his face inches from hers, lowering his voice until it was nothing more than a whisper. She could smell the faint trace of beer on his breath, mixed with the electric heat of his skin.

“And trust me... Miss Carter,” he murmured, eyes flashing, “You do not want it to come to that.”

Amelia’s hands curled into tight fists in her lap, her fingernails biting deep into her palms. She swallowed hard, noticing that her throat was painfully dry and forced a shaky breath past her lips. 

“You do not... scare me, Mr. Kane,” she said, holding his gaze with every ounce of grit she possessed. Her eyes dropped, betraying her for a second as it flickered down to his hard, parted lips before snapping back up to his eyes. 

“This is my land,” she forced out, her voice growing stronger, gaining an edge of steel. “And you cannot intimidate me off it... no matter what you think of me.”

She braced her hands against the arms of the chair and stood slowly, forcing him to straighten and step back as she surged to her feet. She smoothed the front of her top with trembling fingers, and lifted her chin. “Issuing threats might work on other people, but I want you to know right now that it will not work on me,” she eyed him with disdain, even as her heart continued to beat fast. 

Amelia knew she couldn't take Ryder Kane, at least not in a physical fight. He was so much bigger, faster and stronger than she was that he could probably snap her in half if he wanted to, but experience had taught her that fidgeting at such a time wouldn't work in her favour. Right now, all she wanted to do was leave and make sure she never found herself alone with him again. He was a dangerous man, and she didn't even know what she was thinking when she'd agreed to come up here with him. 

“I’d like to take my leave now, as I still have work to do,” she said, “It was quite unpleasant talking to you. Now, will you please excuse me.”

Relief washed over her when Ryder, his jaw locked in a rigid line, actually stepped aside. She hurried across the office to the door and grabbed the handle, twisting it and pulling hard.

The door didn’t budge.

Panic spiked hot and fast through her veins. She yanked on the handle a second time, throwing her weight backward. Still, the door remained stubbornly shut. Then she felt the solid wall of his body materialize behind her and almost blacked out for a second when the vicious head of a jet-black viper tattoo shot out from behind her head and smacked down on the door. She froze instantly, every muscle turning to stone.

“Let me help you with that,” Ryder murmured, his breath hot against her neck.

His hand shifted. He slid his palm down from the door, gliding it directly over hers where she gripped the doorknob and his massive fingers completely swallowed her smaller ones. A jolt of electricity raced up her arm, and Amelia yanked her hand away from beneath his as if his skin had burned her.

He leaned down, his chest brushing the back of her shoulders, and whispered into her ear, making the fine hairs at her nape stand. “Watch your back, Amelia. You have no idea who you're messing with.”

With a smooth click, his thumb flicked the latch, and the door swung wide open.

Amelia didn't look back. She slipped through the opening, breaking into a brisk, stumbling march down the corridor and towards the stairs before her legs completely gave out beneath her.