41. Ridley

41

RIDLEY

My gaze kept wandering to the man next to me as if it had a mind of its own. But Colt’s never strayed from the pavement ahead of us. His hands held the wheel in a death grip. His jaw wound tight, the muscle along it twitching every so often. And those eyes—they somehow managed to be even darker than before.

I pulled a leg up, my arms curling around it and my chin resting on my knee as my sundress billowed around me. “Stop glaring at the road. It didn’t do anything to you.”

That twitching was back, quicker than before. “Bad ideas piss me off.”

I sighed. “Colt. We’re going to a bar. A public place with plenty of people. I get that I need to be careful, but I also need to see this through.”

For so many reasons.

His grip on the wheel softened ever so slightly, and he cast a look in my direction. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

I froze. Everything in me tightened, warring between fighting and fleeing, while another part of me wanted to do something else altogether. That part of me wanted to roll around in Colt’s words, to read promises in them that weren’t even there. We hadn’t once discussed the possibility of this being more. And even if we had, I might be too terrified to reach for it because I knew what it meant to lose someone you loved, and I wasn’t sure I could survive that again.

I released my hold on my leg, dropping my foot back to the floorboard. “I’ll be careful. Promise.”

“Good,” Colt said, though it was more of a grunt, that gruffness coming right back around.

“You can keep an eye on me from the bar?—”

“The hell I am. I’ll be right next to you.”

“Colt—”

His gaze jerked to me as he stopped at a light. “By your side.”

“Baker’s never going to trip himself up if you’re right there. I need to get a good read on him. And we have some things to settle.”

Colt’s dark gaze held me for one beat and then another. “You don’t go anywhere else with him.”

“Not without you, Law Man.”

He let out a long breath as he eased off the brake. “This is a horrible idea.”

But he was going along with it anyway. Because Colt knew how important it was for me to have control over this area of my life. Not to give it up, no matter how many threats loomed.

As if my thoughts conjured the subject, my phone dinged.

Dex

Did a deep dive on your IG. The accounts are part of a bot software. It’s expensive, but anyone can purchase it. It hides the user’s IP address and creates a variety of accounts and comments that then spam the victim. There are a few options for the actual software so I’ll keep digging, see if I can break in and find out who used it.

Damn. I’d hoped he’d be able to come back with a name. And if I was honest, I didn’t think this sounded like Baker. He might like the outcome of more attention on the podcast that threats like these could bring, but tech was not his thing. He had his own Instagram profile, but it was a mixture of mirror selfies and photos with people he thought would improve his clout.

“Who was it?” Colt asked.

“Dex. My contact. He figured out the profiles were created with software that hides the actual user and spams people. Just like you thought.”

Colt’s jaw simply worked back and forth as I quickly typed out a text to Dex in return.

Me

Thank you. I really appreciate it.

Dex

Be careful until we find out where this asshole is.

My hand moved to the pocket of my dress. God bless pockets in dresses. Mine housed two very important things—Chapstick and my tiny Taser.

Colt pulled into a parking spot next to a row of motorcycles outside The Whiskey Barrel and shut off the engine, but he made no move to get out of the SUV. Instead, he turned to me. “Walk me through the plan.”

“We head in. I talk to Baker, try to get a feel if he was the one who sent those spam bots after me, while at the same time making nice so we can finish this season.”

That had Colt scowling. “If he’s the one who programmed the software to say all that awful stuff, why the hell would you want to finish the season with him?”

“Because you never know if the public might come through with tips. If I pull out now, we lose the six episodes that are already up. All my subscribers and reviews. I’d have to start from scratch in the middle of a story. It’s better to play along so Baker won’t suspect a damn thing when I pull out of our contract the moment this season is done.”

Colt’s brows lifted. “You’re leaving him.”

I nodded. “He went too far at the hospital. He’s always been pushy, but it’s delving into manipulative waters, and I’m not down with that.”

“Good,” he clipped. “That guy is a prick.”

My lips twitched. “A soul or two might’ve called you the same.”

Those dark eyes heated to warm amber as Colt slid his hand into my hair. He tugged on the strands, tipping my head back to give himself access to my mouth as he leaned in. “Prick, huh?”

His lips hovered over mine, just shy of where I wanted them. “Maybe,” I whispered.

Colt’s mouth took mine. It wasn’t gentle—it was all need and dominance. But I didn’t let him take over. I gave as good as I got, my tongue twisting with Colt’s, stroking, teasing, demanding more.

When he broke away, I gasped for breath and then glared at him. “Seriously?”

Colt sent me a cocky grin. “Just a little reminder of what’s waiting at home, so you don’t take too long.”

“Overbearing alpha males who are too good with their tongues,” I grumbled as I slid from the SUV. Colt’s chuckle sounded behind me as I headed for the bar’s door, but I ignored it.

I couldn’t ignore when his hand caught mine and he slowed me to a stop. His lips brushed mine again. “Should’ve told you before now. You look beautiful. A kind of beauty that would make any man stop in his tracks. But it’s only matched by your fierceness.” Those brown eyes sparked gold. “Show no mercy, Chaos.”

My lips parted on a silent inhale as I stared up at Colt. This man would be my ruin. The way he made my body come alive with the barest touch. How deeply he believed in me, believed in what I was capable of.

“No mercy,” I whispered.

Colt squeezed my hand twice and then released it, moving to the door. He held it open for me like a true gentleman. But that was part of his pull—the mix of polite care and ruthless demand. It was a heady combination.

I tried to ignore my swirling thoughts of Colt and stepped into the now-familiar bar. It was more crowded than I’d ever seen it. But that made sense; we were heading into a weekend, and the closer we got to true summer, the more tourists would descend on the small town.

I saw some familiar faces. Norm and Sam, the chess-playing duo, were at a table with beers as Mira and Celia sipped beers next to them. Ezra sat with a woman at the bar, nursing cocktails of some sort. The bikers, including the Jack-loving Ace, were in a corner. And Trey slung drinks behind the bar.

A hand pressed into my back as Colt bent, his lips brushing my ear. “I’ll be at the bar.”

I nodded, quickly searching out Baker. It didn’t take me long to find him. His blond hair, which looked fake in the lights of the bar, stood out. I wove my way through the crowd until I got to the table in the corner.

The way the four-top was angled, the only seat that gave me a good vantage point meant sitting next to him. Not next to him like we were a couple on a date, but on two edges of a corner. Still too close for comfort. But I lowered myself to the chair anyway.

“You’re late,” Baker snapped.

I rolled my eyes. “Your watch is always set five minutes early.”

He grumbled something under his breath. “I ordered you french fries and that god-awful whiskey you love so much.”

Baker’s knowledge of my favorite things had me softening toward him slightly. When he’d first picked me up under his production company, he’d come on the road with me for a week. He’d been appalled by what I consumed. At that point in time, I was living out of vending machines and drive-throughs, but I’d also been twenty-three, and nothing could hold me back. Not even living on eighty-two million chemical concoctions.

“Thank you.” I leaned back in my chair. “What are you still doing here?”

Annoyance flicked through his gray eyes. “Trying to make sure my star podcaster doesn’t bite it because she’s being absolutely reckless.”

That bit of warmth I’d started to feel toward my boss quickly died. “Gee, thanks. It’s great to know you care.”

Baker stared back at me and then sighed. “You know I care, Ridley. I wouldn’t be in this godforsaken dot on a map if I didn’t. But I don’t want to see you tank your career or worse. You’re not being careful.”

“I am being careful,” I argued. “I’m staying with the freaking sheriff. I’m not going out after dark. I’m watching my back.”

And I’d continue taking those precautions, because ending up dead wasn’t something I especially wanted to happen. But I also wasn’t going to back down. Not when I had the chance to bring Avery peace and possibly bring my family healing, not to mention all the other victims and their families.

Baker opened his mouth to say something else, but we were interrupted by a waitress in her forties. She held her tray with an expertise that spoke of years on the job. “Here you go, honeys. One Grey Goose and soda, one Ransom, and a basket of fries. Here’s some ketchup too. You need anything else?”

“We’re fine,” Baker gritted.

I smiled up at the woman. “Thank you so much.”

She sent me a wink. “Just flag me down if you need refills or anything else.”

“Small towns,” Baker groused.

“Aren’t they the best?” I asked, popping a fry into my mouth.

He wrinkled his nose. “No thank you.”

I just shrugged and ate another fry.

“We need to discuss your Instagram. I’ve talked to my security team. They’d like you to move into a more secure location than whatever measly excuse for a house that sheriff lives in. Two-man security detail and?—”

“No,” I cut him off. “I already told you, I’m not doing that.”

“Ridley, don’t be an idiot.”

“I’m not. But I’m also not going to follow your orders just because you barked them at me. Anyone could be responsible for those comments. Hell, you could’ve posted them just because you wanted more eyes on the show.”

Redness crept up Baker’s neck. “Did you just accuse me of harassment?”

I watched every flicker of reaction, trying to figure out if it was him. “I didn’t accuse you. I simply pointed out that just about anyone on this planet could be responsible. Even you.”

That redness grew and expanded, deepening in tone. “I am not a child throwing a tantrum. And I don’t need to use the tactics of one to get what I want. I have the most-listened-to lineup of programs. The top rated. The most awarded.”

And none of those were things he gave his creators credit for; it was always Baker’s doing. How I’d stayed with him for as long as I had, I’d never know.

“I won’t stand for you throwing these ridiculous accusations my way,” Baker snapped.

I took a sip of my whiskey, letting that familiar smoky heat sweep through me and waited for Baker’s temper to ease, not taking my eyes off him for a second. The reaction thus far was typical Baker—rage at me thinking him anything less than perfect. Any other time I’d caught him up to no good, he got squirrelly, almost petulant. And that wasn’t his demeanor now.

“You aren’t going to say anything to that?” he demanded.

I gentled my tone, trying for another approach. “I told you, I was simply making a point that the culprit could be anyone. So we all need to be careful. It could be someone out for you and your shows just as easily as it could be someone out to get me.”

Baker stiffened as he processed the thought. He instantly pulled out his phone, fingers flying across the screen. As the device dipped down, I could see he had Instagram open. He was checking each of the podcasts under his umbrella. Unless he’d become an amazing actor over the past few weeks, it wasn’t him.

When he was done, he took a sip of his drink and looked up. “Every other podcast is fine. Which just goes to show that you need a security detail and help.”

I tensed at the word help , knowing what it could mean.

“I have the guys from Reality Rampage arriving on Monday. We’ll be doing a crossover event. People will love it, and you won’t have to do a single interview alone.”

Anger built, sparks catching fire somewhere low. I’d listened to exactly one episode of Baker’s new show. The guys who hosted it had zero respect for what victims or their families had endured. They made crass jokes and took nothing seriously. But worst of all, they didn’t give a damn about lives being lost or forever changed.

“No.” My voice was low, barely audible above the noise of the bar, but it carried a finality no one could ignore.

Baker’s spine stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“I said no.” My fingers tightened around my glass as I tried to keep my voice even. “I am not working with them. You know why this job is important to me. You know why what I do is sacred. To them it’s nothing but a joke.”

“Stop being so dramatic, Ridley. The guys know how to entertain, that’s all. And it wouldn’t hurt you to learn a little of that.”

I stared back at the man I’d worked with for almost four years now. I remembered the night I’d broken down to him about Avery, telling him why bringing these stories to light meant so much to me. Maybe he’d never actually cared at all.

“I quit.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. But the moment I gave them voice, I felt free.

Baker scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I. Quit.” I spoke each word like it was a complete sentence. “We each have an out clause in our contract. I’m using mine effective immediately.”

“Come on, Ridley. There’s no need to throw a tantrum. Just?—”

“I’m not. This hasn’t been working for a long time. Maybe it never did. But either way, I’m done. We’re done.”

At least I’d get to keep the name. It was in my contract. But I’d have to start fresh when it came to subscribers and reviews. It didn’t matter that I’d have to start from scratch or find a whole new staff of people to work with. I didn’t care if I had to crawl up a mountain on bloodied knees, I’d do it. Just to be free of Baker. To know that the work I did was to help.

Baker lashed out, his hand gripping my wrist so hard it startled a gasp out of me. The sound only made him tighten his hold as he pulled me in. “Don’t think you can just walk away from me, you little cunt. I have poured hundreds of thousands of dollars into building you. And I can pour just as much into tearing you down.”

A shadow swept over the table and a furious voice cut through the din of the bar. “Let. Her. Go. Or I’ll happily remove your balls from your body.”