Блейк Пирс - Luring

“Ribeyes sound nice. Give me a few minutes to wash up.”

Ryan got up and headed for the bathroom. Riley hurried back into the kitchen, took the potatoes out of the oven, and seared the steaks and broiled them so that they’d both be medium rare.

Ryan was seated at the table by the time she put their meals on the table. He’d poured glasses of wine for both of them.

“Thanks,” Ryan said, smiling weakly. “This is nice.”

As he cut into his steak he added, “I’m afraid I’ve brought some work home. I’ll have to get to it after we eat.”

Riley suppressed a sigh of deep disappointment. She’d hoped their dinner would end more romantically.

She and Ryan ate in silence for a few moments. Then Ryan started to complain about his day …

“This entry level work—it’s practically slave labor. We’ve got to do all the heavy lifting for the partners—research, writing briefs, making sure everything’s ready for the courtroom. And we put in longer hours than the partners by far. It feels like some kind of fraternity hazing, it except never stops.”

“It’ll get better,” Riley said.

Then she forced a laugh and added …

“Someday you’ll be a partner yourself. And you’ll have a team of entry level guys who’ll go home and complain about you.”

Ryan didn’t laugh, and Riley couldn’t blame him. It seemed like a lame joke now that she’d said it.

Ryan kept grumbling during dinner, and Riley didn’t know whether she felt more hurt or angry. Didn’t he appreciate the effort she’d gone to make everything as perfect as she could tonight?

And didn’t he understand how much their lives were about to change?

When Ryan fell quiet for a few moments, Riley said …

“You know, we’re having a get-together tomorrow at the FBI building to celebrate the end of the internship. You’ll be able to come, won’t you?”

“I’m afraid not, Riley. This is going to be a seven-day week.”

Riley almost gasped.

“But tomorrow’s Sunday,” she said.

Ryan shrugged and said, “Yeah, well, it’s like I said—slave labor.”

Riley said, “Look, it’s not going to take all day. There’ll be a couple of speeches—the assistant director and our training supervisor will want to say a few words. And then there will be some snacks and—”

Ryan interrupted, “Riley, I’m sorry.”

“But I’m leaving for Quantico tomorrow, right afterwards. I’m taking my suitcase with me. I thought you’d be driving me to the bus station.”

“I can’t,” Ryan said a bit sharply. “You’ll have to get there some other way.”

They ate in silence for a few moments.

Riley struggled to understand what was happening. Why couldn’t Ryan come with her tomorrow? It would only take a couple of hours out of his day. Then something began to dawn on her.

She said, “You still don’t want me to go to Quantico.”

Ryan let out a groan of annoyance.

“Riley, let’s not get started on this,” he said.

Riley felt her face redden with anger.

She said, “Well, it’s now or never, isn’t it?”

Ryan said, “You’ve made your decision. I took it to be final.”

Riley’s eyes widened.

“My decision?” she said. “I thought it was our decision.”

Ryan sighed. “We’re not going to have this conversation,” he said. “Let’s just finish eating, OK?”

Riley sat there and stared at him as he continued to pick at his meal.

She found herself wondering …

Is Ryan right?

Did I just railroad us both into this?

She thought back to their conversations, trying to remember, trying to sort it out. She remembered how proud Ryan had been of her when she’d stopped the Clown Killer …

“You saved at least one woman’s life. By solving the case, you may have saved other lives as well. It’s crazy. I think maybe you’re crazy. But you’re also a hero.”

At the time, she’d thought that was what he wanted—for her to pursue a career with the FBI, to keep right on being a hero.

But now that she thought about it, Riley couldn’t remember him saying those precise words. Ryan had never told her …

“I want you to go to the academy. I want you to follow your dream.”

Riley took some long, slow breaths.

We need to discuss this calmly, she thought.

Finally she said …

“Ryan, what do you want? For us, I mean?”

Ryan tilted his head as he looked at her.

“Do you really want to know?” he asked.

Riley’s throat tightened sharply.

“I want to know,” she said. “Tell me what you want.”

A pained look crossed Ryan’s face. Riley found herself dreading what he was going to say next.

Finally he said, “I just want a family.”

Then he shrugged and ate another bite of steak.

Feeling a glimmer of relief, Riley said, “I want that too.”

“Do you?” Ryan asked.

“Of course I do. You know I do.”

Ryan shook his head and said, “I’m not sure even you know what you really want.”

Riley felt as though she’d been punched in the stomach. For a moment she simply didn’t know what to say.

Then she said, “Don’t you think I can have a career and a family?”

“Sure I do,” Ryan said. “Women do it all the time these days. It’s called ‘having it all,’ I hear. It’s tough and it takes planning and sacrifices, but it can be done. And I’d love to help you do all that. But …”

His voice faded.

“But what?” Riley asked.

He breathed deeply, then said, “Maybe it would be different if you wanted to become a lawyer, like me. Or a doctor or a shrink. Or go into real estate. Or start your own business. Or become a college professor. I could relate to any of those things. I could deal with them. But this whole thing with going to the Academy—you’re going to be in Quantico for 18 weeks! How much are we going to see each other during that whole time? Do you thin any relationship can survive so much time apart? And besides …”

He held Riley’s gaze for a moment.

Then he said, “Riley, you’ve almost been killed twice since I’ve known you.”

Riley gulped hard.

He was right, of course. Her most recent brush with death had been at the hands of the Clown Killer. Before that, during their last semester in college, she’d almost been killed by a sociopathic psychology professor who still awaited trial for murdering two other coeds. Riley had known both of those girls. One had been her best friend and roommate.

Riley’s help in solving that awful murder case was how she’d gotten into the summer intern program, and it was one of the main reasons she was thinking about becoming an FBI agent.

In a choked voice, Riley said, “Do you want me to quit? Do you want me to not go to Quantico tomorrow?”

Ryan said, “It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Riley was struggling not to cry now.

“Yes, it does, Ryan,” she said. “It matters a lot.”

Ryan locked gazes with her for what seemed like a long time.

Then he said, “I guess I do. Want you to quit, I mean. I know you’ve found it exciting. It’s been a great adventure for you. But it’s time for us both to settle down. It’s time for us to get on with our real lives.”

Riley suddenly felt as though this had to be a bad dream, but she couldn’t wake up.

Our real lives! she thought.

What did that mean?

And what did it say about her that she didn’t know what it meant?

She only knew one thing for certain …

He doesn’t want me to go to Quantico.

Then Ryan said, “Look, you can work at all kinds of jobs right here in DC. And you’ve got lots of time to think about what you want to do in the long run. Meanwhile, it doesn’t matter if you make a lot of money. We’re not rich on what I’m making at the firm, but we’re getting by, and I’ll eventually be doing really well.”