Page 42 of Riot’s Thorn (Sons of Erebus: Reno, NV #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

PARKER

I wake up groggy and out of it. After reporting Bodhi getting choked out to the cops and them doing a sweep of the area, it was well into the morning hours.

If it were Bart’s people, why didn’t they break in and finish the job?

It doesn’t make sense. Unless he wants to scare me.

In that case, he succeeded because I’m officially freaked out.

Glancing at my phone, I see it’s seven in the morning, meaning I only got about three hours of sleep.

If I didn’t have stuff to do today, I’d go back to bed, but I have meetings with Dad’s lawyers and business partners.

There are papers to sign and decisions to make.

Plus, I need to figure out if I’m dropping out of college or talking to my professors about getting caught up.

The weight of my to-do list is heavy but unavoidable, so I force myself out of bed and tug the covers up so I can make it pretty again. A glint in the morning sun catches my attention, and I’m suddenly aware of a weight on my finger that wasn’t there when I went to sleep.

Lifting my hand, I see Mom’s wedding ring. “What the hell?”

My mind runs through my memories, like maybe I just forgot I put it on before I left the clubhouse, but I’m certain I didn’t. Also, I know it wasn’t there last night, which means?—

I dart out of my bedroom door and into the living room with its tall ceilings, river rock hearth, and oversized furniture. Not finding anyone there, I round the corner to the kitchen.

“Oh, god. Rebel.” I cover my mouth, feeling last night’s dinner wanting to come back up.

“What’s wrong?” Rebel goes on high alert, her hand shooting to her sidearm.

“Someone broke in,” I say, fully knowing who the “someone” is.

Her brows pinch together. “I’m sorry?”

“I woke up with my mom’s ring on, and I wasn’t wearing it when I went to bed.”

She opens her mouth, but no words come out. Instead, she makes her way to my bedroom. She inspects each window and the French doors in the bathroom that lead outside. They have an interior locking mechanism that can’t be disengaged from the outside, so if he didn’t get in from there, then where?

“Let me look at the cameras, though they would’ve alerted us if they picked up any motion.” She studies her screen. “The cameras are on, and there were no alerts. We’ll have to watch the feed to make sure, but it would be next to impossible to not be detected.”

“I know exactly where I left this ring, and I can say with one hundred percent certainty I didn’t bring it here,” I say.

Rebel gets out her radio and calls for Thorne to come inside. Minutes later, I’m explaining the situation to him, but he parrots what Rebel told me. What they don’t know is that Riot is a ghost when he wants to be. His job and his life depend on it.

“Parker? Are you okay?” Thorne asks, drawing me back to the conversation.

“What? Oh, yeah. I’m fine. But I think I might know who’s behind what happened last night and now this.”

“Who?” they both ask in unison.

“Riot.” I plop down onto the bed.

“Who’s that?”

“My”—the ring I wear on my third finger grabs the sunlight, sparkling brilliantly—“fiancé.”

“You have a fiancé? Why didn’t you tell us about him?” Thorne crosses his arms over his barrel chest.

“Because I don’t know if we’re still together.”

“Breaking into your house while you’re sleeping is the definition of a red flag, Parker. Who is this guy?” Rebel asks.

I huff, but I’m smiling. “That’s one of the tamer things he’s done.”

“Can you call him and ask?” Rebel asks. “Because if it’s not him, we need to call in the cops. Honestly, even if it is him, I’d still call the cops.”

I stand. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. We’re leaving in thirty minutes, so I’d better get ready.”

“Are you sure?” Thorne asks.

“Positive. Thank you.” I close the door after them and stare out into the forest. Is he out there right now? Has he been watching me the whole time?

Then, it hits me. Bodhi was choked out close to my bathroom at the same time I was showering. If this is Riot, that makes sense. He’s overly possessive and wouldn’t want anyone else to see my body. Rubbing my forehead, I debate how to handle this.

I can’t go back to the clubhouse and tell him to stop; he’ll just lock me back up.

I don’t have his phone number, but even if I did, he wouldn’t listen if I told him to back off.

The only thing I can think to do is leave it alone for now.

At least he’s not dragging me back, kicking and screaming.

Maybe he’s giving me exactly what I wanted but in his own way.

As creepy as breaking in while I’m sleeping is, I know he wouldn’t hurt me.

Sighing, I find an outfit in my closet and strip off my pink silk pajama set.

I’m suddenly aware he might be watching me right now.

Holding my pajamas to my chest, I look out the window.

Does it turn him on to watch me shower and dress?

Or is he only making sure I’m safe? Stalking seems like something he’d be into.

Thinking about his eyes on me right now has my panties growing damp.

Honestly, it’s kind of hot. For that reason, my movements become intentional.

I turn and bend over, pushing my panties to the floor and making sure my ass is on full display.

He’s a breast man, there’s no doubt about that, but he’s fond of my butt too, so I give it a little wiggle. Instead of sexy, it just feels weird.

Oh, god. Who have I become? I’m so stupid. I don’t even know if he’s out there, and even if he is, this is odd behavior I shouldn’t encourage. Riot needs to learn to make a phone call or knock on a door like an average person. Thorne is right; stalking is a red flag.

After this realization, I dress without any concern for who may be watching.

I choose a simple, orange-red cap sleeve dress that comes to just above my knee and pair it with a skinny black belt with a small black bow over the buckle.

I’m not trying to break an ankle today, so I pair the dress with black ballet flats that have a scalloped edge.

With a little mascara and blush, I start to feel confident, but it’s not until I’ve added loose curls to my long hair that I feel as though I can take on today’s challenges.

I stop at my dresser to put on a pair of diamond studs and start to pull off the ring.

I pause; seeing the ring on my finger, it doesn’t feel like Mom’s ring anymore.

It feels like the ring Riot proposed to me with, and even though they’re one and the same, my mind has made a distinction.

Oh, god. I’m losing it.

Yet, I don’t take the ring off.

A knock disrupts my thoughts. “Roland is here, Parker.”

“I’ll be right out.” I dab some gloss on my lips and walk out to the living room, where Roland is making awkward conversation with my security team. “Ready?”

Roland’s eyes widen. “Wow. You look very nice, Miss Richter.”

“Parker,” I correct. “You’re only like, what? Two years older than me? It’s weird to be so formal.”

“I’m twenty-four,” he says.

“See? Not much older because I’ll be twenty-two next month.”

“Okay. Parker, it is. Are you ready?” He offers me his elbow, and I notice how nice he looks too.

His suit is youthful and stylish in a professional way.

The blue windowpane linen-wool sport jacket and matching slacks fit his trim body perfectly.

Underneath the jacket is a trim-fit white dress shirt with the top two buttons undone.

Then, as if he couldn’t look any cooler, he has a pair of brown leather Vince Forseta sneakers.

The comparison between his attire and Riot’s is laughable. Riot owns multiples of the exact same black T-shirt and jeans, some older and worn than others but still the same brand and color. The nicest things he owns are his motorcycle boots and leather vest.

While Riot’s light skin is marred with various scars and tattoos, Roland’s dark skin is unblemished and almost gleaming from being so moisturized and soft. It’s clear Riot never had braces, his lower front teeth slightly overlapping, but Roland’s teeth are perfectly straight and glowing white.

All those differences, and still, I’d take Riot over Roland any day. Turns out, my type is a possessive, alpha, badass biker covered in tattoos with finger-combed hair and a bad attitude.

“Let’s do it.” I take his elbow, allowing the security team to lock up after us.

He opens the passenger door of his silver Audi, and I slide in.

Yesterday, I was so worried Riot would chase us down, guns blazing, and take me back, I didn’t notice the luxury vehicle.

Clearly, Dad paid him well, and so far, he’s been invaluable.

“Thanks for scheduling all the appointments today,” I say once we’re on the road, the Midnight Security Team following close behind.

“That’s what I do.” Roland glances over with a wide smile. He really is a handsome man, sexy even, but he’s too put-together, too well-groomed.

“Where to first?”

“Unfortunately, the funeral home. I’m sorry to do this to you first thing this morning, but the morgue is beginning to complain about storing Mr. Richter’s body for this long. So, decisions need to be made.”

I sigh. “Okay. What’s after that?”

“Mr. Richter’s lawyer. He’s put together a full day that starts with the reading of your dad’s will. But there’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

“What?”

“When you went missing, everyone was looking for you. Search parties went out, and your name and picture were everywhere, which means reporters are now inquiring about your status daily.” He makes a noise conveying his uneasiness with the topic.

“Basically, the board is hoping you could make a statement so the calls will stop pouring in.”

“Oh.” I don’t know how to feel about that. I was hoping to just slip back into my life as if I were always here.

“If you can’t do it, I can tell them to release a statement, and hopefully, the press won’t hound you.”

“Would the board allow that?” I ask, picking at my nails. Nothing sounds worse than standing on a podium and lying. If the Sons are right and Bart comes after me, I won’t want to make it easier for him to find me. Putting myself front and center will do just that.

“They’ll have to. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to,” he says with a reassuring pat on my knee.

“Okay. Please tell them to release a statement then.”

“I’ll send the email while you meet with Mr. Duncan at the funeral home. Have you decided what you’ll do with the company? I know you were months off from graduating, right?”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll finish.”

“Really?”

“Really.” I leave it at that because how do I explain I’m not the same girl I was two weeks ago? A whole new world has been shown to me, and my eyes have been opened. The goals and dreams I had are gone, and I need time to figure out what to replace them with.

Roland opens the console and pulls out a protein bar. “It’s going to be a marathon day, so you should eat.”

“Thank you.” I open the wrapper and absently eat the chocolate cardboard. “How did you end up working for my dad?”

“My dad is an associate of your—was an associate of your dad’s. One day, I’ll take over for him, but in the meantime, I’m learning as much as I can about the world of business and finance.”

“Why don’t you just work for your dad?”

“We’d kill each other if he were my boss.” Roland chuckles. “I love my dad, but I’d rather learn from other men who are industry leaders so when the time is right, I can take our company to the top.”

“And women,” I say.

“I don’t follow.”

“You said you’d rather learn from more successful men, and I was just correcting you because it’s not only men who are successful.

” There’s an insane amount of sexism in this business, something I knew I’d have to battle every day once I took over for Dad.

I was hoping by the time that happened, things would be different because kids my age are pretty socially aware. Apparently, not all of us.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I misspoke.”

“Well, I don’t know how much you’ll learn now that my dad’s gone. I’d understand if you wanted to leave for greener pastures.”

“No, I think I’ll stick around for a while, at least until you know what you’re going to do. I owe it to your dad to help you through this transition.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear it because I have no idea what I’m doing.” I chuckle.

“We’ll figure it out together.” Roland places his hand on mine and gives it a squeeze.

His hands are big and warm, but they’re lacking the callouses and nicks and cuts Riot’s have.

They feel all wrong, but I don’t want to be rude, so I don’t pull away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t linger long before his hand goes back to the steering wheel.

“Your dad spoke very highly of you, though, and from everything he told me, you’d be fine without me. ”

He could be right, but I don’t want to find out. Just having someone to manage my schedule and put together to-do lists saves me so much time and effort. So, inappropriate touches or not, he’s staying. For now, anyway.