Page 22 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

PARKER

“ I ’m sorry to drag you away, but once I heard who you were and why you were here, I knew I had to talk to you,” Jenson says. “I doubt Riot told you, but my name is Jenson Poole, and I’m the CEO of Poole Industries. I ran in the same circles as your dad.”

Judging by looks alone, he comes from a similar background.

He’s an insanely good-looking man with dirty blond hair styled in a way meant to be messy but probably took some time to accomplish.

His outfit, a dark sage colored pair of slacks, a white button-down, a lighter sage cable knit sweater, and a pair of Hermès sneakers, is clearly tailored just for him.

“I’ve heard of your company,” I say.

“I can’t say I know what you’re going through, but I thought you might want to know I’m around if you need to talk. Going from our world to the biker world is quite the culture shock.”

“It is.” I chew the inside of my mouth, debating what to say. “You said you know why I’m here, but do you really?”

“Riot killed your dad and abducted you. Honestly, that tracks for him. He didn’t stand a chance of meeting someone a normal way.

I mean, can you imagine him being on a dating app?

” He chuckles, and my stomach sinks. The casual way he’s talking tells me all I need to know; he won’t help me escape either. How can no one see how wrong this is?

“I don’t know him well enough to imagine him doing anything.” I fold my arms.

His smile falls. “It must be hard to come to terms with all this, but if Riot hadn’t brought you here, I guarantee you wouldn’t be alive.

I don’t know Riot well—I don’t think anyone does—but I’ve heard stories of how ruthless he is.

If I were in danger, he’s exactly the kind of guy I’d want in my corner. ”

“But my dad. . .”

“I’m gonna hold your hands when I say this: I made some delicate inquiries after I heard about your situation. There are people in our circles who are nervous about their association with what your dad was doing and, at the same time, scrambling to find someone else to take over.”

“The parties?” I ask. Coming from someone with direct knowledge, it sinks in that I didn’t know Dad and Grandpa at all.

“Yeah. Honestly, I hear whispers of it sometimes, but thankfully, I don’t give off the vibe of someone they’d invite. I never had proof, or I would’ve figured out a way to report them.”

“So it’s true.” It’s not a question. I drop his hands to clutch my stomach. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.”

“Don’t be hard on yourself. People only show the parts of themselves they want others to see.”

“But he was my dad,” I whisper, my knees going weak.

Riot is at my side, catching me before I fall. “What’s wrong, Little Thorn?”

“How did I not see it?” My vision blurs and my head swims.

“What the fuck did you say to her?” Riot’s vicious words are directed at Jenson.

“I’m sorry, Parker. I thought you already knew.”

“Knew what?” Riot grits out, holding me to his side, a pillar of fucked up strength I cling to because I have no one and nothing else.

“About her dad. Rigger said you told her, and since I knew her dad, I thought I could make her feel better.” Jenson sinks back into his own pillar when Mustang appears behind him.

“You should learn to mind your own fuckin’ business.” Riot isn’t being fair, and I want to tell him that, but I can’t get my mouth to work.

“Watch your tone. This isn’t his fault,” Mustang defends but has the sense to drag Jenson away.

Riot tips my chin up. “Ready to go home?”

“I don’t have a home. Not anymore.”

“You have the cabin.”

“That’s not my home,” I insist.

“It’s the closest thing you have right now.”

Completely done meeting people and thinking about what may or may not have happened, I nod. Riot takes my hand and leads me back the way we came. If I thought people were interested in us earlier, they’re riveted after Riot’s explosion and openly gawking.

A pretty, older woman steps into our path. “Hey, doll. I noticed you two didn’t eat much, so I made up some plates.”

Riot takes them, thanking her, but when she looks at him expectantly, he grunts in annoyance. “Parker, this is Sugar. She’s Mustang’s mom. She also does all the cooking and cleans up after us assholes.”

Sugar’s red-painted lips tip up in a beautiful smile. She doesn’t look old enough to have given birth to Jenson’s big biker. If she wiped off the thick black eyeliner and eased up on the blush, she could pass as his sister. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too.” I nod at the plates. “Thank you. That was very kind.”

“It makes me happy to take care of these lugs.” She wipes her hands on jeans that look like a second skin. “You’ll probably see me around. I pop in to tidy Riot’s place once a week. Unless you’d rather I not?”

“Oh, um, don’t change your schedule because of me. I don’t know how long I’ll be around anyway.”

That comment earns me one of Riot’s growls, which has Sugar stepping to the side. “Okay, great. I’ll see you soon then.”

We make it to the cabin without any other interruptions. Riot morphs right before my eyes once the door is shut and locked. He slips his leather vest off and hangs it up before pushing off his boots. The severe expression he wore at the party softens, and his posture becomes more relaxed.

I follow his lead, slipping off my flip-flops. Tonight has been insanely overwhelming. On the one hand, it was interesting meeting his club and seeing their dynamic. On the other, I don’t know how to process what three different people have now told me.

“You wanna eat?” Riot holds up a foil-covered plate.

“Sure.” I lower onto the sofa, thinking eating my feelings sounds like the perfect idea.

He hands it over, then walks over to his rat pantry. After releasing his pets, he takes his plate to his corner to share his meal. I like that he doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence as we eat. It’s not even uncomfortable.

The burger is cold and plain, but I don’t taste it; my mind is too busy running in circles. I don’t know what’ll have to happen for me to fully grasp and accept what I’ve been told, but it still doesn’t feel real.

Thinking about that has me wondering about the second issue I can’t make sense of.

I glance up and take in this issue as he feeds his rats little bites of potato chips and fruit salad.

I’ve asked him over and over what he plans to do with me, but I refuse to accept I’ll spend the rest of my life trapped between these walls.

“We need to finish our conversation,” I say.

Riot’s nearly black eyes shoot up to me, cunning and altogether beautiful. Even with the mask lowered, he emits an air of danger, a defense mechanism he seems to have honed throughout the years. “Okay.”

I move closer, taking a seat on the floor across from him. Ben and Amy freeze in place, lifting onto their hind legs. Their little noses flitter, assessing for danger. When they sense none, they run over to me.

Making Riot trust me means I need to be okay with his rodents, so I allow them to inspect me. I don’t move a muscle, not wanting to startle them. They crawl onto my lap, stopping to sniff every so often.

“Relax. They sense your fear,” he says, his tone giving away his amusement.

“Easier said than done.”

“They won’t bite. They’ve been handled since they were pups.”

“That doesn’t help either. What if they don’t like me?”

“They like you. If they didn’t, they’d keep their distance. Rats aren’t predatory; they’re opportunistic.”

“Can I pet them?” I ask, wondering if their fur is as soft as it looks.

“Sure.”

I lift my hand, moving in on the gray one since the white one’s red eyes still weird me out. “I just touch it?”

Riot huffs, which is probably the badass killer version of a chuckle. “Yeah, Thorn. You just touch him.”

“The gray one is Ben?”

“Yeah.”

Ben seems to sense my intentions. He holds perfectly still as I drag a finger down his back. I giggle. “He’s so soft.”

“Does are softer. Touch Amy.”

With my newfound confidence, I gently scratch behind her ears, the way I’ve seen Riot do. Her fur is downy soft, like touching a cloud. “She is softer.”

Riot makes a clicking sound, and they run back to him, lining up to accept more food. “What do you want to talk about?”

“You said you figured out what you were going to do with me. What does that mean?”

Instead of answering, he stands and walks across the room to the little table by the front door with a single drawer.

On top is a bowl where he ditches the contents of his pockets each day, and the drawer is where he keeps his gun.

He made a show of making sure I knew it wasn’t loaded, so I haven’t even thought about going after it.

There’s also the fact that I have no idea how to operate a gun, and much to my dismay and surprise, I like Riot too much to kill him.

Apparently, he keeps more than the gun in there because he removes something else. Something so small, I can’t see what it is. Seconds later, he’s back in his spot, holding his closed fist out to me. I’m dying of curiosity as I hold out my open palm and wait for him to drop it.

No matter how many guesses I could’ve made, I still wouldn’t have guessed what drops into my hand.

Yellow gold glints in the overhead light on its way down, and at first, I’m confused.

A ring? What would a ring have to do with anything?

Then, I take a closer look and recognize it immediately.

A two-carat kite-shaped diamond with hand-engraved milgrain around accent diamonds outlining each point of the center diamond.

The gold band splits into two smaller bands that twist on each side.

It’s so distinctive, I can confidently say this is Mom’s engagement ring.

“Why do you have this?” I ask, pinpricks stinging my eyes.

“It’s your answer to everything.”

“I don’t understand. This is my mother’s.”

“Is it? I think that makes this even more meaningful,” he says.

“Enough with the games, Riot. What are you talking about?”

“We’re getting married.” No inflection. No emotion. No hint that he’s playing a joke on me. He’s serious.

Oh, hell no.

“I’m not marrying you. Are you insane?” I jump to my feet. “Seriously, Riot. Are. You. Insane?”

“I don’t think anyone who does what I do is right in the head, but that has nothing to do with this.”

I fold my arms, gripping Mom’s ring so tight, the corners of the uniquely-shaped diamond cut into my hand. “What have I done or said that makes you think I’d want to marry you?”

“Nothing, but it’s still the best way to keep you safe.”

“Like hell.” I flop down on the couch. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I want my simple life back. I want to go to college, hang out with my friends, and go on dates with nice guys. I want to have dinner with my dad on Sunday nights and not know what a disgusting piece of shit he is.”

“What makes a guy you date ‘nice’?” His thumbs move across the top of his tattooed fingers, pressing down to pop each knuckle.

“That’s what you got out of everything I said?”

“It’s the only part of what you said that interests me.” When he doesn’t get a response, he huffs. “If you’re married to me, you have the club’s protection, and Bart will leave you alone.”

“Are you even hearing yourself?” I emphasize with my hands. “You can’t make someone marry you. This isn’t some mafia romance novel.”

“I don’t know what that means. Bart isn’t mafia, but he does have ties to a lot of organized crime factions.” His lack of emotion only amps my own up to unreasonable levels.

“So Bart gets word I’m not missing, he sees the ring on my finger, and suddenly, he doesn’t care about what I may or may not have seen or what I may or may not know?” I pace the room, unable to sit still. This is absurd, and it’s driving me mad he doesn’t think so.

“Not exactly. After we’re married, I’d call Bart and tell him you belong to the club now. I’d assure him you won’t be a problem, which puts the club’s reputation up as collateral, and that’s more valuable than money in our world.”

“That’s stupid.”

“It’s actually very smart.” He stands and walks over to the pantry to tuck his rats in for the night.

“This has to be a nightmare. Each day since you killed my dad has been worse than the last.”

“You need to calm down. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” My voice erupts into a full-blown shout, echoing off the walls. “You aren’t the one whose entire existence has been turned upside down.”

“I said to calm down.” He steps toward me with a threatening air, but I’m beyond the realm of self-preservation. I’m so utterly done with this nightmare I’ve been thrust into, and if there’s no escape for me, I’m going to make my existence his problem.

“Or what? You’ll choke me again? Go ahead. Only don’t stop this time—because marrying you is a fate worse than death.” My words, dripping with venom, only provoke him further as he closes the gap between us with deliberate steps.

“No, Little Thorn. Now that I’ve claimed you, you’re not going anywhere—not even to heaven, where spoiled brats like you go because”—he looms over me, forcing me to tilt my head back just to meet his gaze—“even when the Reaper comes to take me away, you won’t be free of me.

No, I’ll drag you to the depths of hell right alongside me. ”

“And I’m just supposed to accept that?”

“Look around. Do you see any other choices?” He grips my chin, forcing my head from side to side, hammering his point home.

“I hate you!” I shove him with all my might, but he barely budges.

This is a gamble; he could easily slip into the dark recesses of his mind like he did before, but I’m far past reason.

“I fucking hate you!” My fists clench, and I pummel his chest with all the fury I can muster. “Do you hear me? I hate you!”