Page 14 of Stryker's Ruin
“I’ll put a pot on. Get moving. We’ll be getting up early.” She scurries off.
I find a decaf tea and put a pot on to brew, before heading to the bedroom to unpack my duffel. She left her suitcase open on the rack in the closet. I can’t help but notice how meager her belongings are, how plain and barely functional.
Nothing. She’s got nothing. Has no one. Emotionally and physically deprived. Thankfully, she had Ettore the last couple of years. I sense Ruin is resilient and has spirit. She just needs to be able to find her wings and learn to fly. But how does someone so fragile fight the power of her crime family?
When she comes out of the bathroom and goes to the bedroom, I take my shower. I expect her to be in bed asleep when I walk into the living room in just my lounge pants.
She’s curled on the couch staring out the window where she can see the sprawl of the city. A mug of tea in her hand and a book in her lap.
“Ruin, you okay?”
Turning at the sound of my voice, her gaze goes wide when she takes in my state of undress.
“You have a tattoo.”
Yeah, a whole fucking Irish sleeve. I hope she doesn’t recognize the designs. I nod.
“It’s beautiful. Did it hurt?”
I shake my head. “What are you reading?”
She blushes. “I love books. Most of mine are only for education. I found three on the closet shelf. I hope it’s okay I borrowed it.” She shows me the cover of a dog-eared copy of Robert Ludlum’s,Bourne Identityone of the guys must have left.
“This is your home while you’re here. You can use anything you want, eat anything you want. The only rule is you have tostay with me and not go off on your own so I can watch over you.”
“I will.”
“Can’t sleep?”
She shakes her head. “My insides are all excited. Sometimes when I’m moved it’s hard for me to sleep the first few days. Ettore said I was anxious.” She glances out the window. “Even at night here there is so much to see, to experience. I don’t want to miss a thing. I want to remember it all when I’m moved again.”
“What makes you think you’ll be moved again?”
“I’m always sent away.”
“Do you journal?”
“No. I was told I couldn’t write anything down. Until…until now.”
“Vince wants you to make notes of what you see and hear?” I question.
She nods.
The fucking bastard is gonna get her killed. Once again, I wonder if that’s the plan.
“You need some sleep. We have an early day tomorrow. Come on, I’ll get you settled.”
Following her into the bedroom. I wait for her to get comfortable under the covers. She curls in on herself like a wounded fawn. Fuck, she’s breaking my heart. “I have a little work to do on my laptop. Would you mind if I lay on the other side of the bed to do it so I can watch over you at the same time?”
Shit that sounds trite even to me.
“That would be nice.”
Grabbing my laptop from the charger in the other room I turn off all the lights leaving the bathroom on low in case she needs to make a trip in the night.
“Move over, I need to be on the door side.”
She scoots across the bed turning so her back is to me. On top of the covers, I settle with my back against the headboard and do a quick search for restful sounds. Choosing one recommended for sleep, I play it low. After a few minutes she relaxes, and dozes off.