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He shrugged with a grin that made my heart stumble.
“I’m bored,” I said.
“I have ways to make you… not bored.” He winked. I threw a pillow at him, and he smiled. “I didn’t mean that, you dirty thing. I meant… I have to go to the office, and you can accompany me.”
“Really?” I needed to get out of this place.
“If you want. My editor just sent me a message. She wanted to talk to me about something very important.”
“Natalia,” I said with a smile, and he smirked.
“Of course, Stalker. Natalia.”
“Hey… you did it, too.”
“You did it first.”
When we walked into the glass-walled building, Ryden took my hand in his with a frown. “I loved not seeing Thatcher Perry’s face for days.”
“Why is he still alive?” I asked as we walked into the elevator.
“Because… if I killed him, I’d be the first suspect. Everyone knows how much I fucking hate him.”
“Come on. Don’t you want to officially meet Nat?” He pushed the glass door and motioned me to go in before he followed me.
“You’re here.” Natalia Porter looked at Ryden before she gave me a look. “And who is this beautiful woman with you?” She gave me a bright smile.
“That’s Yara. She’s my…” He looked at me with a smile. “We’re friends.”
Natalia hummed, a mischievous grin on her face, and then her smile turned into a grim frown. “So… The Strangler. Where’s the story?”
“DPD and FBI are still keeping it all hush-hush. How do you know?” Ryden asked as he pulled a chair for me. I sat down, and he followed.
“I have my ways,” Natalia said, tapping her fingers against the table. I loved the shade of her purple nail polish.
“Don’t worry. You’ll get your exclusive today. Is that why you…”
“No. It’s about Nikki Singh.”
Ryden’s body went stiff. “Don’t tell me to stop chasing a ghost, Nat. I’m tired of hearing it.”
“No, I’m telling you to start chasing it harder than before.”
“Why? What changed?” Ryden sat straight in his chair.
“Here…” Natalia pushed a folder toward him. “Nikki’s mother… she called back, and I found a connection for you.”
“She called? After all these months? I tried so hard to talk with her,” Ryden said as he opened the file and winced.
“She answered a few questions and said she found a brochure for AFC in Nikki’s drawer. She had no idea if it could mean anything. She also gave her number and practically begged that you call her.”
“And that’s the fucking thread. AFC.” Ryden stood up, clearing his throat, stalking back and forth. “Sofia at the AFC. Nikki had a brochure.”
“Art For Charity?” I asked, and he nodded. I often sent checks for them but never personally visited the organization.
“Yes. They mainly focus on aiding women who have suffered domestic violence, rape, and similar traumas. Sofia was a longtime volunteer there,” Natalia said with a sigh.
Ryden’s jaw clenched. I had a feeling he wanted to break something. He didn’t. He grabbed the folder and nodded to Natalia.
