“He didn’t,” I growled, suddenly feeling very defensive.
“I have to consider all options, Mason. It’s what I do.”
I understood that to some extent, but still I wholeheartedly disagreed with him. I knew Ryder didn’t buy those drugs because I knew him. Not wishing to start an argument, or let him think that I didn’t trust or appreciate what Jake was doing, I kept my mouth shut. “You’ll call me, right? As soon as you know anything?”
“Of course I will. But right now, I think you should get some sleep. You look sick.”
“Yeah sleep’s proving kind of impossible lately.”
“Then just rest. Take a lie down. Drink plenty of water. I will get him out of that place, Mason, and when I do you’re going to need to be strong for him.”
“Okay, sure, sure. Just make sure you call me.”
“You have my word.”
Sighing, I turned to leave the room. It was only upon arriving in my own suite I realized Sawyer hadn’t been there and wondered idly where he was, before deciding I didn’t have the energy to care. Kicking off my shoes and not even bothering to place them neatly beside each other, I threw myself down onto the bed, letting my feet dangle off the end. Tucking my hands behind my head, I stared at the ceiling. Then I stared some more, and then some more. My heart ached. My head swam. I’d never needed to be held so much my whole life, and the only person who could ease that ache, was rotting away in jail for a crime I knew he didn’t commit.
I was startled awake by my cell phone vibrating against my cheek. I didn’t remember nodding off, but I guess that’s what staring at ceilings indefinitely does to you. I didn’t hesitate to answer when I saw Jake’s name light up the screen.
“Jake,” I said hastily down the line.
“It was a dead end,” he began. “The footage shows Ryder entering the bar, and then leaving under the escort of two police officers, but nothing of any interest in between. The camera is static, only faces the entrance.”
“So what now?”
“Now, we visit his father.”
“We?”
“I thought you’d like to come too.”
“Oh, I would…it’s just earlier…”
“I plan to meet with him in public. The photos will affect him far greater that way with the fear of someone seeing their content.”
“Seriously, how do you even think of all this stuff? You’re just a security guard, right?”
“Protecting the life of someone in the public eye is vastly different from a guard protecting the entrance of a store,” Jake explained, and I tried to ignore the condescension in his voice.
“So how are we going to meet him?”
“He stops for lunch every day at the same restaurant.” I didn’t even bother to ask how he knew that, but I knew however he found out, he would be right. “Get ready. I’ll be at your room in ten minutes to pick you up.”
“But lunchtime was like…” I paused to double check the time on my watch. “Two hours ago.”
“Not for him. See you in ten.”
Jumping out of bed I jogged straight to the bathroom, used the toilet, revived my weary face with some splashes of cool water and raked a comb through my hair. After pulling on some shoes I was ready to go, and spent the next seven minutes, I actually counted, pacing the huge hotel living room back and forth.
Punctual as always, Jake’s knock graced my door precisely ten minutes after his phone call. We exchanged a few brief words but then stayed pretty much silent as we made our way to Ryder’s dad’s daily lunch spot - Le Bella. My hands were clammy with nerves by the time we arrived. I followed Jake’s lead into the restaurant, my nervous and clumsy steps trailing slightly behind his long and confident strides.
“We’re a little early,” Jake announced. “Go and order us two coffees and I’ll take a seat by the entrance until he arrives.”
“Um, okay,” I stuttered uneasily. I felt like I was some kind of undercover agent in a freakin’ Bond movie, albeit a completely useless one. Walking up to the counter to order our drinks I felt on edge, like everyone knew I had a hidden agenda. Man, I’d have made a shit criminal. When I joined Jake at the small wooden table by the glass doors, he discreetly nodded his head over to the left. Sitting down, I glanced to my left, and there was Ryder’s father – the man from the photos - looking through a menu.
“Soooo, we just go over to him?”
“Not while he’s alone. If we wait until the waitress is with him and tell him his son is in trouble, he’ll listen. He won’t want to give off the impression that he doesn’t give a flying shit about his own flesh and blood in front of an audience.”