Ryder Policy Read online

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  Ryder Policy

  by C. L. Scholey

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  Erotica/Romance

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  Whispers Publishing

  www.whispershome.com

  Copyright ©C. L. Scholey

  First published in 2011

  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  Also by C. L. Scholey

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  About The Author

  Find your favorite fantasy at...

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  Ryder Policy

  C. L. Scholey

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language. This material is meant for mature audiences!

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  Also by C. L. Scholey

  Love's Dangerous Territory

  My Assassin Lover

  Assassin Master

  A Lesson In Espionage

  Timeless Witch

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Ryder Policy

  A Whispers Publishing Publication

  April 22, 2011

  Copyright (C) 2011 C. L. Scholey

  Cover illustration copyright (C) Anistasia Rabiyah

  ISBN Not Assigned

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  Published by: Whispers Publishing, P.O. Box 1165, Ladson, SC 29456-1165.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  RYDER POLICY

  By

  C.L. Scholey

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Dedication

  For MJ and Luca

  [Back to Table of Contents]

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  Chapter One

  The large man leaned nonchalantly against the tall, commanding oak tree, which stretched upwards toward the brilliant blue sky. Its budding limbs rose Heavenwards, swaying in a come-hither motion, as though to capture one, solitary cotton white cloud in the beckoning distance. The man's impassive face could be described most often as brooding, but not at this very moment. His head was cocked to the right side; the heady aroma of pine tickled his flaring nostrils. The approaching sound was unmistakable.

  His shoulders tensed, his jaw tightened for a brief moment, then relaxed. He kept his weapon holstered—a deadly-looking Sig Sauer P229, forty caliber, semi-automatic. The foliage before him was dense, bush abounded in a multitude of vivid spring color, partially obscuring his vision. He remained, for the most part, unconcerned, though his heart began to palpitate in anticipation. The danger was immense. Still, he refused to budge.

  Come on, he thought impatiently.

  The brush before him swayed into an opening, like the appearance of a magic doorway into another realm. Perhaps it could be construed as such. The aperture preceded a feral being. The immense, dark brown beast lumbered its unhurried gait through the foliage door and stopped. His massive head rose regally to sniff the air, as an unfamiliar scent caught its attention. Hudson remained immobile, unafraid.

  The grizzly lifted itself majestically onto its hind legs when he spotted the lone man. He roared his displeasure of the intrusion into his domain. Hudson's face lit with a small smile and he finally shifted his powerful physique, ever so cautiously, to stand ready. Though his stance was nonthreatening, his arms dangled at his sides, prepared for anything. The tips of his right fingers caressed the hilt of a six-inch knife blade hanging belted at his hip. An identical weapon was sheathed under his pant leg at his right ankle. He was unconcerned.

  Hudson's amusement rose as the beast sized him up. The animal stood a good head taller. Its black eyes gazed into Hudson's dark, chocolate brown eyes. Hudson knew he was also an impressive figure, at least to other humans. Standing six foot six he towered over many. He was massively muscled and weighed a good two-eighty. Not many were stupid enough to mess with him.

  Apparently, neither was the grizzly. It snorted and snuffed impatiently. The beast dropped to all fours. He batted the ground, its sharp claws leaving an imprint deep within the forest floor, an empty show of bravado. Hudson remained undaunted; he held his ground without so much as a twitch. The furry creature bellowed his irritation once more, turned and lumbered away in a different direction.

  Hudson chuckled as the bear's backside disappeared from whence it came. The foliage accepted it back into its womb of safety. Under the cover of security he could still hear the animals moaning growls of indignation.

  “You sound like a disgruntled perp,” Hudson said aloud. He shook his head with comical amusement.

  Hudson began making his own way through the forest. His lungs breathed deep the fresh, clean-smelling spring air. A gentle breeze fluttered the sides of his thick, raven hair. Barely a sound could be heard under the gentle crunch of his hiking boots. He stopped for a moment when he broke through the army of trees. Resting his foot upon a rock, knee bent, he draped his arm over his faded blue jeans.

  Before him stretched the mile wide span of a quiet lake. The view of ice-capped mountains dotted the edges. A bald eagle soared on a gentle current of air. Not one ripple marred the perfection of the beauty before him. It was of course uninhabited; it was the breathtaking picture of serenity. Not one soul spoiled his view, not one puff of smoke or any other indication another living being was close—just the way he preferred his retreat to be. He was completely alone.

  Smiling to himself, Hudson moved on. His long anticipated vacation had begun.

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  The lean-to Hudson had built was sturdy and large enough to fit his generous frame. A small fire blazed before him as dusk settled around him like a blanket. Mist swirled around the edges of the lake, like Mother Nature's sexy lingerie tempting a lover. An owl hooted, another replied from a small distance.

  Hudson turned the roasting spit situated before him. He had caught and skinned a rabbit. The creature had been plump; it must have been a calm easy winter in these parts; truth be told, he had never encountered such a stout rabbit. On another twig he had skewered a fish, a large tasty bass, and swirls of the tempting aroma rose to tease his senses.

  He poked at the rabbit, testing its readiness. A small sizzle of pinkish juice slipped down the side to drip onto the small flame. It still had a few minutes to go. He leaned back on his elbow, stretching his long legs out before him. An adventuresome bullfrog croaked, and then quieted. Hudson yawned loudly with lazy contentment.

  Beside him w
as a stack of dead branches he had chopped to pieces with a small axe he carried. He was not in possession of a backpack. All he needed he would catch or make for himself. Once every year he made this trek into the deep woods. Man and nature bonding, as his friends laughingly referred to it.

  Hudson had joked with them, but it held a deeper meaning. His mother had died shortly after he had turned thirteen. She had been killed by a drunk driver. Although her misery ended swiftly, Hudson's had only begun. He had been devastated over her loss and could not seem to overcome his depression. His father had also been at a loss. Every day the life of his only child seemed to slip farther from his tenacious grasp. Hudson had turned within himself, unable to battle his grief openly.

  One day his dad had packed him up, and driven him to the woods. He handed him a knife, the same one he now wore at his ankle, and a small axe. With his hands placed on his shoulders, his father had told him he needed to decide if he wanted to live or die. But he wasn't going to watch him fade away before his very eyes. His father had told him he loved him more than anything in the world, and with tears in his eyes he had literally dumped Hudson alone to fend for himself.

  Hudson had watched with wide-eyed horror as his father took off, leaving him all alone in the middle of nowhere. Always having been very large for his age, deep inside he was ashamed at his fear, but that had been the first time he had been forced to fend for himself. He hadn't been certain of what frightened him the most, the loneliness, or seeing his powerful father brought to tears.

  It had been do or die. He had learned to fend for himself. He had learned how to take care of business. He had learned his life had not stopped with his mother's death; it had just opened a new chapter in an empty book that begged to be filled with his experiences. Most importantly, he learned he wanted to live.

  The solitude had become a cloak of serenity while he hashed out, and lashed out, his feelings of anger and betrayal. His mother had left him alone, after all, he hadn't abandoned her. He hadn't broken her heart. He had screamed his rage, smashed the trunks of the giant oaks with long sticks he obliterated. Running irrationally through the endless brush, stumbling, and then regaining his feet only to stumble again, until he had collapsed face first into a pile of leaves, unable to run any longer.

  Sobbing, he had rolled over, his arm over his eyes, his clothing soaking up his frenetic rush of tears. His frantic heart had calmed to the point where he had heard the sounds of whispers telling him he would be fine. It was, of course, only the wind playing tricks, but the whispers were gentle and reminded him of the quiet bedtime stories his mother used to tell him. He had lain, listening, until he didn't feel quite so alone.

  Strangely enough he held no animosity towards his father for leaving him out there. He came to the grown up conclusion he'd had no choice; he had wanted to save his son. Hudson determined his mother had no choice either. In the depths of his soul he knew she would move heaven and earth to be with him. The realization set him free of his anger and he was able to deal with his painful emotions.

  When his dad returned for him, they never spoke of it again. But they were able to discuss his mother without the pain of loss to vividly send their hearts spiraling to their knees. It wasn't until years later his father had confided he had been close all along, watching over him, his hope an open book upon his face that he would understand his reasoning. Hudson had understood, it had helped make him the man he was today.

  Every year on that same day in early May, Hudson found himself in the same woods, alone. Since then his father had also passed, but surprisingly it wasn't as devastating a blow. He had mourned his loss and moved on; knowing if he didn't his father would somehow find a way to kick his ass from the grave. It also gave him a sense of peace knowing his mother was no longer alone.

  The fire crackled and popped before him. A small flame teased its way up the leg of the roasting rabbit like a searing caress. As Hudson removed his knife and cut into the meat, juices flowed, dripping over his fingers. He cut off a generous hindquarter and blew on it before taking a healthy bite. He groaned at the delicious taste that filled his mouth with a banquet of flavor.

  When he finished half of the meat he attacked the fish with gusto, making short work of it. He belched with contentment after satisfying his hunger, then rose to his feet, gathered the bones of his meal and buried them a fair distance from his camp. He stopped to relieve himself on a tree. He ambled back to his camp, figuring on stringing the rest of the rabbit from a bough in a tree, to keep it safe from land animals as well as flying ones, so he could enjoy breakfast before varmints could make off with it.

  “Damn it!” he exclaimed after a quick glance by the fire. It appeared he was too late. Something had already made off with his breakfast.

  Hudson scanned the area, but it was hopeless. Night had fallen. There weren't enough stars in the sky as yet to see clearly. He sighed, realizing he would just have to catch himself something else for breakfast. He tossed another log on his fire and settled back for the night. With his arm tucked under his head, and his belly full, it wasn't long before he drifted into a deep sleep.

  * * * *

  Hudson roared when his naked body hit the ripple-free, glass-like surface of the darkened water. The lake was frigid and Hudson surfaced after his jump, feeling invigorated. He tossed his head back and forth, ridding it of the icy water. With long, leisurely strokes he swam to the tiny island in the middle of the lake.

  He hauled himself up onto a multi-colored rock and again bellowed out in his deep, commanding voice that he was alive and strong and powerful—a force to be reckoned with. He had done this as a teenager and each time he came since. In his fanciful thoughts he hoped to take his message to his mother. If he could just yell loud enough, maybe she could somehow hear him. Smiling to himself, he once more dove into the clear lake. His vigorous strokes sliced through the water with ease. Within mere moments he reached his destination.

  Hudson strolled naked to his camp. A soft, cool breeze glided over him, arousing a fine layer of goose bumps to spatter his arms and legs. He hummed to himself, enjoying the freedom and peacefulness of being alone. His smile faded when he noticed the fish he had caught earlier had vanished from over his fire.

  He scratched at his head, finding the scene unusual. Animals usually stayed away from fire. He could understand some beast making off with the rabbit last night, as he had laid it somewhat off to the side, but for something to snatch his meal, stick and all, it didn't make any sense.

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  A rapid glance around his camp and his heart sank. His axe was also missing. He donned his clothing. Thankfully his weapons and identification remained high in a tree, placed in a small waterproof sack within clear view of the lake. He crossed his arms over his chest in aggravation. His jacket was gone as well.

  Scowling, he crouched near the ground by his fire. The dirt had been disturbed. An imprint of a tread from a shoe was clearly visible. It would seem a thief lurked within the forest. Well, Hudson wasn't without his own capabilities. He caught thieves for a living. Although at this very moment he was off-duty, it wouldn't hurt to show this thief a valuable lesson in staying on the right path of the straight and narrow. He balled a massive fist and struck it into his palm. The sound was like a clap of thunder.

  Hudson rose, armed himself, and set out to retrieve his things.

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  The branch Hudson studied with eagle eyes was broken, the ground disturbed. The perpetrator had been this way. Whoever it was seemed to be tiring and getting clumsy. With disgust he came across the remains of his breakfast, a small pile of fish bones picked clean. It was still too difficult to get a good idea of who he might be after. He had caught no glimpse.

  Whoever it was seemed to be hightailing it away and fast. Afraid of repercussions perhaps? Well good, because there were about to be many. Hudson moved farther on silent feet. He wanted this sack of pus to be caught completely unaware. I mean really,
he thought, who steals a guy's jacket out here?

  It wasn't long before Hudson crouched low to the ground. He smelt the wisp of smoke before he saw the fire's flame. He could hear the crunching of feet as the person moved about. He slipped his weapon from its holster. As always the Sig felt familiar nestled within his palm. He was going to make certain the fool pissed himself before he was through.

  He emerged from the bush with a cocky, sinister smile on his face. He stood there quietly, watching his target, who had his back turned to him. With an inaudible sigh, Hudson re-holstered his weapon. Instead he crossed his arms over his chest and replaced his ‘You are so totally screwed,’ glare with a stern, but not quite so intimidating look. He then cleared his throat loudly for a dramatic effect.

  The perp turned immediately and, openmouthed at Hudson's sudden appearance dropped the firewood she had been holding. A smallish log landed upon her sneakered toe and she cried out. She took a faltering, limping step back. Hudson was certain she meant to run, her frantic eyes darting quickly to her right, and he prepared himself for a chase.

  To his surprise she held her ground with frightened, hesitant determination. She withdrew a jackknife from her pocket, the open blade no more than an inch or so in length. Hudson's eyes widened in disbelief. She couldn't have been more than five foot five. Her build was slim. Was she nuts? How on earth did she think she was going to be able to take him on?

  “You're serious?” he asked incredulously.

  “Stay back!” she hissed.

  She waved the small knife slowly back and forth. Hudson couldn't help himself, he laughed uproariously. The entire concept was just too ludicrous. He was no longer angry, thinking she must be lost out here and when she had found him she was too frightened of his formidable appearance to show herself. Most women kept a cautious distance from him until they got to know him better.