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Chapter 8 - ✓8 - Retreat.

Preston wandered straight past the fugitive.

Jacob snuck out of hiding, tiptoeing to the door with Ryder being a witness. The latter swallowed harder, tearing his gaze away to look over the dining area which sparkled from too much shine, the chairs carefully drawn in. Down at the foot of the stairs, the sergeant hesitated. "Upstairs?"

Ryder smiled up at him, before nodding, his heart pulsating with knowledge of what was in store up there. With Jacob nowhere nearby, the possibility of a fresh new death was impossible. The sergeant whistled discontentedly, taking long, springy steps up the wooden stairway till he stopped at the room where he took a peek in through the door. The bed was still unmade, sheets heaped down the floor. Ryder almost missed the twitch on his brows as he ambled into the farthest wall, pulling open the closet door. He peered inside to nothingness.

"I swear I've got no one hiding in here. I've never been known to talk with or keep friends in this neighborhood," Ryder hissed, not intending to make his voice sharper than he did.

Turning to face him, Preston smirked, taking off his uniform cap to reveal dark untamed hair. "I don't think you need to be social to harbor a stranger. He may have broken in and forced you to keep shut."

Indignation rose like bile up Ryder's throat. "You think I'm lying? Why would I want to get in the way of the law?"

"Because the man we're talking about here is very influential. He's got a reputation back in Denmark as a bisexual rich bastard,"

Being flung to the wall could've been better. Somehow, Ryder managed his emotions. "Rich?"

"Now don't play dumb with me, he's father is the President,"

Ryder mentally gasped, willing his hands to keep still. How come he never told me about this?

"I don't even know his name or what he looks like, look around us, I've got no TV, radio, my cellphone is dead and there's no one in here. I'd like you to leave. Now,"

It was time to act the loner.

Preston didn't bat a lid but hurried back downstairs with faster steps than while coming up. His ego had been protruded and Ryder was glad he felt stomped. Uncivilised dogs posing as upholders of the law.

"If anyone comes up this path leading down to the forest let me know, I'd also advise you to stick close to home. Don't come out if possible," the sergeant grunted, stepping off the porch onto the snow-baked road. Until the officer's back disappeared down a curve, Ryder had to confront another reality. Preston was right about Jacob being dangerous but would the fugitive be eager to shed his blood for knowing too much after all they'd been through and done?

In truth, he had no answer to that. The house resumed it's once-quiet atmosphere until Jacob came in through the back door, his aura filling the silence.

A rich bisexual bastard? He did strike off as someone great alright, with the right kind of beauty to keep men and women pinning, falling at his feet each day, seeking his attention. Ryder wondered what really made Sophie die, was it the letter or she'd seen him with someone else?

For the first time since he'd stumbled upon the body and had a resolve to help, Ryder had doubts about his visitor.

The thought was disturbing. "That was a smart move, sneaking off like that,"

The fugitive looked up blankly, blonde locks complementing soft, pink luscious lips. Ryder closed his eyes and imagined how those hot lips pressed against his a few moments ago. "You're tougher than you look,"

"It was nothing impressive, he'd have caught me either way,"

"But he didn't," Ryder countered.

"That's a valid point," Jacob settled down onto the sofa, head thrown back and eyes shut as if meditating. "You're unlike any boy I've met."

"Is it because I didn't turn you in?"

"That's likely," Driven by an invisible urge, he pulled the teen back into his arms. As if he had no control of his body, no idea what he was doing, Ryder wrapped an arm loosely around his neck and opened his mouth to receive a hot tongue.

Love hadn't been this fleeting in seven years and he was prepared to make use of this moment, this opportunity the stranger offered which could never happen again.

It was indeed more likely he was falling in love. A second time.

What mattered at the end was how far had he fallen?