His divorce was final. There was nothing holding him back from marrying Megan but Megan herself.
Ryan had been in New Hampshire for four days without so much of a phone call from Megan, who had ignored his calls and texts. Ryan placed his laptop on the seat next to him and looked out at the blue sky. He admired God’s awesome creation before leaning back into the luxurious white leather seat. Michael Ward, Pastor Keith Ward’s younger brother, knew how to live. Celebrities used Michael’s private jet, but Ryan had been granted exclusive access. That was one of the perks of being Michael Ward of MJW Conglomerate’s business partner. Bringing him in to Spababies was the best decision Ryan had ever made.
Spababies, Incorporated was a deluxe childcare service for mall shoppers. Parents could drop their children off at the center while they did their shopping. Michael had designed the centers with state-of-the-art security systems, and they had received 100 percent positive ratings. Ryan intended to keep it that way.
The private line rang. Ryan answered on the second ring.
“We have a problem,” Michael Ward said. “Or I should say, you have a problem.”
Ryan’s hand tightened on the phone, but he kept his voice light. “What’s going on?”
“Kyle Manchester is coming after Spababies. I’m listed on the class action suit involving Jackson Higgins.”
Ryan groaned. Jackson Higgins was dead. Why couldn’t they let this man rest in peace? Even in death, Jackson Higgins was a thorn. But if Jackson was the thorn, Megan was the rose.
“He doesn’t have a case, Michael. Kyle is after money. I don’t even know why Kyle added you to this nonsense. I’ll take care of it.”
“He added me because I’m with the company and have more resources and manpower,” Michael said. “Of course he would add me to the case. This is guaranteed to make the news. I’ve been scandal-free for quite some time, and I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t need or want my name in the spotlight ever again.”
MJW Conglomerate’s demise had been a newscaster’s dream when Michael Ward had been accused of raping a nineteen-year-old. His stocks and businesses nosedived. Fortunately, in time, the truth prevailed and the case was settled. Since then, Michael made sure to keep out of the spotlight, especially since he was about to become the father of twins.
“I’ll handle the case,” Michael said.
Ryan’s shoulders relaxed. He knew Michael would prevent any further action. But for Ryan, this was an alarm bell and he needed to pay attention to the sound. Megan had infiltrated his thoughts, messing with his priorities. The quicker he settled things with her…
“Ryan, tell me the truth,” Michael said. “Do you have any other concerns? I’ve heard the accusations.”
“What accusations?”
“You know I do my research. I know Kyle thinks you murdered Jackson Higgins.”
Ryan should have known Michael would hear the rumors. “That is malarkey,” he said. Ever since Joe Biden used “malarkey” at the presidential debate, Ryan had fallen in love with the word. “Jackson hung himself. His wife found him hanging. That’s it. I’m not involved.”
Ryan thought of Frank, whom Michael had recommended. It’s taken care of still haunted him. What did those words mean exactly?
“Are you sure?” Michael insisted. “My source told me Kyle has the FBI involved.”
“Well…” The FBI? Ryan cleared his throat. He needed someone to talk to besides Michael’s brother, Pastor Keith Ward. Ryan always sought his pastor for advice. He didn’t know how, but every time he was in Pastor Ward’s presence, his tongue loosened. That’s why Ryan hadn’t been to Zion’s Hill Baptist. He had to avoid Pastor Ward’s keen eye, and Michael was no different.
“I used Frank,” Ryan said.
“Say no more,” Michael said and clicked off.
Ryan looked at the phone before resting it in its cradle. He knew why Michael had disconnected the line. Frank Armadillo was a ghost, a grandfatherly figure who was lethal and cunning. He got things done. He made things happen. Very few knew about him, but once you knew him, you never forgot him. Regardless of his reputation, however, Ryan knew Frank wasn’t a murderer—but it didn’t mean Frank didn’t know plenty.
Ryan looked up at the ceiling of the jet. He remembered Megan mentioning how Kyle suggested she pursue him. He had thought it was about money, but maybe Kyle was recruiting Megan as an informant. Maybe he needed to leave Megan alone. Plenty of women wanted him. He could use one to paint over the imprint Megan had left in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he thought of her.
Who was he fooling? No other woman but Megan would do. Ryan only needed one woman. He needed Megan. He tapped his chin and knew the way he was sprung on Megan could bring him down. How had she pierced his heart upon first sight? The notion was ludicrous, but it had happened to him for the second time in his life. Ryan was a believer.
If Megan were his wife, she would be a major conflict of interest, and Kyle would have to abort his plan for revenge.
Ryan rubbed the bridge of his nose. He needed to hurry Megan along. Marrying her wouldn’t only satisfy his heart, it would also benefit his peace of mind and his pockets. This was a potential triple win situation, but Megan was stubborn. She was set on keeping him out of her life. Ryan gritted his teeth when he remembered how she had slammed the door in his face.
He squared his shoulders. He needed to give up the knight-in-shining-armor routine. It was played out, and Megan wasn’t buying it. The nicer he was, the nastier she became. His left eye ticked when he recalled how her eyes twinkled at his discomfort of being treated like a chauffeur.
The fury-filled beast within howled. It was time for him to change tactics. He knew one surefire way to get results. Ryan picked up the phone and punched in the digits.
When he heard the voice on the line, he said, “Time for plan B. Get it done.”
He slammed down the phone and settled into the cushiony leather. Then he smiled. His inner beast was pleased. Megan would be his. By this time next week, he would be a married man. Megan would bear his name. Her son would be his son. Her church would be his church. His home would be her home. His life, her life, as long as they both shall live.
So help him God.