Page 39 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
PARKER
I ’m a coward. Even worse than that, I’m an uncertain coward. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing, and the fear of making the biggest mistake of my life has me wanting to turn back and hope Riot hasn’t noticed I’m gone yet.
It’s been two hours since he went into his meeting, so surely he knows I’m gone by now. He’s probably already on his bike, trying to find me so he can drag me back by my hair, the way cavemen do in cartoons.
“Miss Richter, we’re here,” Roland says, peering into the back seat.
Roland is only a couple years older than me, but he’s been working for Dad for five years— was working for Dad for five years. He was Dad’s personal assistant, but he hadn’t been at the house the day of the shooting.
I didn’t know I’d be calling him today, but when I went to use the bathroom shortly after Riot went into his meeting and saw the bowl of cellphones sitting just outside, I made the snap decision to leave.
At first, I walked right passed the bowl. It wasn’t until I was washing my hands after peeing that the idea came to me. I didn’t even think; I just acted. Roland was more than shocked to hear from me and agreed to meet me down the road from the clubhouse.
After placing the cell phone back in the bowl, I just walked out the front door. I paced in circles on the sidewalk, certain a slew of bikers would come barreling out of the clubhouse before I could get away. But they didn’t, so I fled.
Now I’m outside the mansion that had been my grandfather’s home before my father’s, looking at it with new eyes.
There’s still crime scene tape draped all over the expansive courtyard, and a pit is lodged deep in my throat that I can’t swallow.
It feels like a year has passed since the last time I was here, not just weeks.
I’m not the same girl who showed up for family dinner that night, clueless as to how much my life would change when I walked through the front door.
Part of me wishes I were, because life was so much easier.
But the other part is glad I have the chance to fix the mess Dad made and maybe stop even more women and children from suffering.
“Has security been lined up?” I ask.
“Yes, ma’am. A team should arrive here shortly.”
“Please just call me Parker, and thank you for picking me up.” I step out of the town car and take a deep breath.
“I kept extra cellphones because your dad had a tendency to break his.” Roland rounds the car and hands me a silver phone. “Figured you might need it. The cops said yours was left behind in there.”
We both just stand there, staring at what was the scene of a horrific crime. I haven’t told Roland anything about where I’ve been, mostly because I’m still working on a believable story that won’t implicate the club. I left Riot, but I still care about him deeply.
My heart hurts thinking about the complicated man who changed my life forever, in both good ways and bad.
I hope he forgives me, and that after I get everything settled here, he’ll see me again.
Maybe we can try to have a real relationship because what we had wasn’t sustainable.
I don’t want to be in hiding for the rest of my life, and Lucas—no, he needs to be Riot when we’re together, alone—needs to see me as a person, not a possession.
“What now?” Roland asks.
“I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
“If I may, where have you been for the last two weeks?”
“Dad owns a mountain home in Graeagle. After the shooting, I was in shock, and I fled. At the time, it seemed like a good idea to hide.” It’s the most believable story I could come up with. “That’s why I asked for the security team. I still don’t know if whoever killed my dad could be after me.”
“I’m sure, after what you went through, you weren’t thinking clearly.” He shakes his head. “The cops will probably want to speak to you now that you aren’t missing.”
“Speaking of, I need you to find the key to the cabin in my dad’s office and make it look like someone has been living there for two weeks, just in case someone goes poking around.”
His eyes widen. “Didn’t you just say?—”
“Please, Roland. You don’t need to know any more than that, and I’d appreciate your discretion.”
“Okay. Consider it done.”
“Was there a funeral?” I ask. It’s something I’ve been wondering the whole time I was with Riot.
“No. With you missing and the nature of his death, it was decided the morgue would hold his body until decisions could be made. Now that we know you’re alive and well, I’m glad we waited so you can plan the service you’d like for him.”
Cremate him and flush his ashes down the drain. “Right. Okay.”
“I can help you. You don’t have to decide everything on your own or all at once.”
“I appreciate that. Will you go inside with me?” I ask because I don’t think Riot would abduct me again with Roland around to witness it, and he won’t kill an innocent person. At least, I don’t think he would.
“Sure.” He offers me an elbow. “Cameron stepped in to keep the company running while the lawyers debated what to do. Your dad listed you as the executor of his estate, but since you were missing, everyone was scrambling.”
I hate that my initial thought is wondering if Dad’s VP was also involved in this sex ring. He’s the same age as Dad, and they were friends, so it wouldn’t surprise me. I wish I had Killer’s number so I could call and ask if her research showed his involvement.
“I’ll have to thank him.” We reach the front door, and I panic, wondering what I’m walking into.
Roland notices my hesitation. “Don’t worry. I had a clean-up crew come once the police were done collecting evidence. Then, I brought in a construction company to repair the walls, flooring, and everything else that had been damaged.”
“Good. I sound like a broken record, but thank you.”
“Your dad was good to me, and he’ll be missed.”
“Sure,” I say, because I don’t have it in me to pretend.
Walking through the door is a surreal experience. The cozy foyer opens to an expansive area, where the ceiling is as tall as the three-story house. Looking up, you can see the open hallways on each level.
The second and third floors are bedroom suites, each with its own bathroom, small wet bar, and sitting area.
Each level also has a shared living space.
On the main level, there’s a formal sitting room, kitchen, formal dining room, a library, and four separate offices that, when the house was built, were the living quarters for the staff.
The first space we come to is the formal sitting room. It appears to have been untouched, but across from it is the formal dining room, which was where I spent Dad’s last minutes with him.
The glass doors have been replaced, but the table and chairs have been removed, leaving the room empty. As I step into the room, I can still hear the pop of gunshots and the shattering of glass. Opening and closing the new cabinet, I relive each moment, the absolute terror I felt.
“My dad saved my life by hiding me in here.” It’s not exactly true, but he doesn’t have to know that. I clear my throat. “I’m going to call the authorities. Can you go take care of what we discussed, please?”
“Sure. If you need anything else today, let me know. I’ll go grab the key for the cabin.” Roland gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Hang in there. You’ll get through this.”
I wait until I hear his car pull away before sinking to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest. Conflicting emotions war within me, battling for control.
Riot was wrong for killing Dad, but Dad was wrong for what he did.
Somehow, murder seems like less of an offense, but is that because I have feelings for Riot?
Forcing myself to my feet, I do what I came here to do. The door to the basement is locked, as always, but I find the key in Dad’s office. It’s one of the rooms that didn’t come under gunfire, but it’s clearly been searched by the cops. Not his safe, though. That’s still locked up tight.
If Riot’s right, then Bart somehow stopped the cops from going downstairs and discovering Dad’s disgusting sins, and there’s a chance the creep has already cleared it out to get rid of any evidence.
Maybe there’s a chance he was waiting until things calmed down, or maybe because I was missing, he didn’t feel a sense of urgency to get it done.
My hand shakes as I push the key into the lock and turn. Did Dad keep women and children down there? Were they there each time we had family dinner? Oh, god. Are they down there right now?
As I descend stairs I’ve never been down, my stomach roils, and I’m petrified at what I might find. My heart races and my breaths come fast, as if I just ran a marathon. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.
In my head, I was picturing horse stalls with naked women chained to posts, a heavy stench of urine, feces, latex, and semen in the air. That’s not what I find at all, but it’s enough to prove Riot was right about everything.
The light switch I flip makes the dark room I walk into glow red. It’s opulent, with expensive tufted leather sofas, antique end tables, and a built-in cabinet made from rich wood, but it’s everything else that catches my eye.
In the center of the room is a floor-to-ceiling, black metal cage. On each of the four sides are two chains with metal cuffs attached, enough to imprison eight people. It’s weird and definitely not something you’d typically find, but it’s not exactly a smoking gun.
Amidst the normal furniture are metal contraptions—I don’t have to know what they’re called to know what they do.
Most look like padded workout benches, some with metal arms that have cuffs attached to the ends, some with stir-up attachments, again with cuffs, and one with machinery at the end that’s connected to a tube.
The tube has pistons, so I don’t have to use my imagination much to put together what it does.