Ryan (Mallick Brothers #2)(4)

Then on top of those types of books, there were the businesses that I did, in fact, own. And had to staff and make orders for and do improvements on and settle disputes for. On top of all of that, I took on the women's shelter. They had run out of money and were going to lose their business and because my family was so involved with it to start with, we decided to step in. I just so happened to be the only one with enough disposable cash to take it over. And it came with its own headaches, though I did force Mark to do a lot of the work around the place to save me some hassle.

I was fucking busy.

From the moment I woke up until about an hour before I crashed, I was fucking swamped. 

They were right; I had almost no personal life.

And maybe they were right. Maybe it was getting to me. Maybe I needed to get out a little, get laid, unwind. It would explain why I was zoning out during a goddamn business meeting.

"Ry has the hots for his housebound neighbor," Mark supplied, making me pick up a pen at throw it at him.

Brothers, they were every bit as invasive as sisters, no matter what anyone said. Or maybe that was only true in families as close as ours was.

"Housebound, huh?" Shane asked, smile going devilish. "That kind of works out then, doesn't it? No tracking her down. No taking her out to a fancy dinner. You just show up and you're fucking."

"I'm not sleeping with my neighbor," I said immediately. Even if I had thought about it. Often. Usually in the shower. Like some kind of horny fucking teenager.

"But he wants to. And she apparently has some kind of drama with some dirtbags," Mark added.

There was no such thing as privacy in the Mallick family. If Mark knew it, so did Shane. Then from there, Lea, Fee, Hunter, Eli, and our parents.

My goddamn cell would be ringing and beeping all night.

Great.

"You're gonna knight-in-shining-armor her?" Shane asked, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms. "Not a bad move. I mean, not the shortest shortcut to pussy. But it will work eventually."

"Jesus Christ," I sighed, raking a hand down my face, my palms catching on scruff I must have forgotten to shave off somehow. "Enough. I'm not sleeping with her. I don't plan on sleeping with her. This conversation is over."

"Uh-huh," Mark said, nodding, smirk still in place. "Sure, man. So Shane," he said as I sat back on a sigh, knowing what was to follow. "I have my money on... a week," he offered, betting on shit like we were always known to.

Shane looked over at me. "Nah, man. He's practically a monk and she's a shut-in. I say three."

"Hunt will do the smart thing and take the bet in the middle," Mark mused. "And Fee will likely..."

"Alright, I have better places to be," I said, standing, buttoning my suit jacket. "Like literally fucking anywhere but here," I added, grabbing my cell and heading toward the door. "Lock up on your way out," I finished with, closing the door behind me.

I was in a sour fucking mood.

I couldn't be mad at them. Had I been in their shoes, I would have been the first laying down money to bet. But being the one people were betting on, yeah, it wasn't nearly as fun.

The only way to make it in any way better was to prove them wrong.

I wasn't going to sleep with Dusty.

In fact, since I said hello to her and she awkwardly (and fucking adorably) muttered her hello back and disappeared, yeah, I hadn't even caught sight of her.

I probably wouldn't again for months and by then, the bet would be over anyway.

Except that sometime late that night, after nodding off four times in the middle of a work email I was typing off on my cell at two in the morning, and finally deciding to power down and deal with it after some sleep, I was startled awake by the loud, insistent, piercing scream of an alarm.

I shot up in bed, heart slamming as I reached for my cell, noticing immediately it wasn't my personal alarm or anything in my apartment, but was coming from the hall. I slipped my feet into a pair of loafers, threw on a sweatshirt, and headed toward the door, moving out into the hall to see the carbon alarm flashing a red warning light.

Carbon monoxide.

Fucking great end to a shitty day.

I reached inside to grab my key and closed the door, moving to turn around and freezing.



       
         
       
        

Because there standing in her doorway with a cat carrier in one hand, scratches down her hands, and completely frozen on the spot, was Dusty. The hand that wasn't holding the carrier was closed around her throat, like she was trying to ease a pressure there. Her green eyes were huge and fucking... terrified.

A shut-in who couldn't even make herself step outside her apartment for an emergency.

"Honey, we got to go," I urged, pocketing my keys as I moved halfway across the hall.

"I, ah," she started, shaking her head, craning her head out toward the alarm that was flashing a number of twenty where it was always zero. "I, um, I can't. Just... can you please take Rocky with you?" she asked, thrusting the thrashing carrier out into the hall.

Without thinking, I reached for it.

It was knee-jerk.

A beautiful woman begs you to take something, you just take it.

That being said, I knew she wasn't planning on leaving. It was in her terror-filled eyes, her shallow breathing, her shaking body. She wanted me to save her cat and leave her there to possibly die.

Yeah, that shit wasn't gonna fly that was for damn sure.

I put the carrier down and before she could guess my intention and react, I charged across the hallway, bending low and throwing her body over my shoulder. My arm clamped tight around her as she froze for a short second then started struggling, begging me to put her down and leave her there, her voice getting more frantic by the second and, as I grabbed the carrier in my free hand and made a dart for the stairs, you could hear the tears she was crying in her tone.

My heart had a distinct sinking sensation as I flew down the stairs, understanding that she was having a holy fucking meltdown, but knowing that there was no way I could have just left her behind either.

I slammed the door for the emergency exit and stepped outside, the December air assaulting me from head to toe despite having long sleeves and pants on.

And that was when I saw the crowd of people all gathered toward the front of the building, small groups huddled together to ward off the chill.

As if hearing or just sensing the group as well, Dusty started struggling again, making me turn away from the front of the building and head toward the back where the lot was, finding my car and putting the cat carrier down on the trunk so I could bleep the locks then going around to the passenger's side and opening the door, pulling Dusty down and depositing her into the front seat.

I bent inward, reaching across her to put the key in and crank up the heat before going to get the cat and sticking his carrier in the back.

I went back around, squatting down beside her still-open door, like she couldn't focus past the panic to even do anything as basic as reaching and closing it. 

"Breathe, honey," I demanded because the whole time it took me to come to the side of the car and squat down, her chest hadn't risen at all.

Her eyes snapped to me, her lips parting slightly, as her hand went to her belly and she took a slow, deep breath. Then another.

"I am going to go see if the super or fire department has anything to say. You just sit and breathe and I'll be right back, okay?"

Her head nodded tightly as I moved to stand. "Okay," she added and I gave her a small smile and shut the door.

I walked back around the building, hunched forward to ward off against the cold, wondering how the fuck she managed to even get out of bed in the morning when the entire world filled her with dread like that, put that look of absolute bone-deep terror on her face, made her forget how to breathe.

I didn't get anxiety. It wasn't a part of my life. Things were too crazy, too hectic from moment to moment. I was raised with constant threats, stress, and uncertainty. It taught me to take everything with a grain of salt, to never let anything get the best of me, to both literally and figuratively roll with the punches.

So I couldn't relate to whatever it was she had been feeling, but one look in her eyes told me it was a terrible way to have to live.

"Ryan," the super said, cupping me on the back as the firemen started to file inside. "Sorry for the inconvenience. I know you're a busy man."

I was a busy man who employed his wife, two of his daughters, and one of his sons.

He kissed my ass.

"Not something you had control over, Andrew," I said, shrugging.

"Don't worry," he went on, looking up at the building. "I told the firemen about your neighbor too. They'll get her a mask and get her out."

"I carried her out," I said, noticing his head snapped in my direction, his brows drawing together.

"You carried her out?"

"Wasn't going to leave her in there to die of carbon monoxide poisoning, Andrew," I snorted.

"Well, no no. Of course not. I'm surprised she let you is all. I had to come in to replace her stove once; the girl stood with her back in a corner, her hand at her throat the whole time. Shame, that. She's a pretty young thing. Reminds me of my Mandy."

His Mandy was a spoiled, entitled little brat with a terrible attitude and shrill voice. Fortunately for him and her, she was good with numbers or else she'd have been out on her ass a long time ago because I simply couldn't stand her.