Page 38 of Rolling 75 (The Noire Brothers #1)

MERCY

T essa’s words are still flitting through my mind an hour later as I mosey to Ryker’s office, rap my knuckles on the hefty wood, and peek my head past the ajar door.

He’s on the phone, but waves me in. “We’ll video-call Rena tonight. Is she okay?”

I amble farther inside, making myself comfortable in the leather chair by his desk while he talks to who I’m assuming is Ty.

“This is the longest any of us have been away from each other. There might never be another issue. Keeping her away from the resort isn’t a solution.

” He paces in silence—his navy button-up a bit rumpled, tie abandoned, perfect hair tousled—before peering at me as he finishes his call.

“I’ve got her. Thanks. Talk to you soon. ”

He sets his phone down and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

“Hey. Rena’s not coming?”

“No.” He strides to his office kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.

“It’s too risky to have her here for this event when we don’t know what they’re dealing with.

” Strolling back toward me, he passes me the coffee, a napkin, and a croissant.

“Let’s not spend any more time on that. You still need to eat. ”

“Thanks.” I stare at the coffee and pastry for a moment, settling on a quick sip and a modest bite before depositing both on the edge of his desk and wiping my hands. “I promise I’ll eat after. You wanted to see me?”

“Yes. I have something to show you.” He turns his laptop around, which has a photocopied page of a book with what appears to be a journal entry on it.

“It’s best if we don’t handle the actual book, but Axel copied the page for me.

This is from a judge’s logbook that was found not long ago.

He was well connected, dirty, took bribes, and maintained a wealthy livelihood by collecting the transgressions of others, essentially creating an army of people who were indebted to him.

When Axel was perusing the contents for his new position, to cross-check information against some intel we had, he discovered this. ”

Leaning in, I read the entry written about my father.

Psychiatrist Dr. Brian Phillips has testified in four high-profile cases, dramatically upsetting expected verdicts.

It is believed he is associated with The Order.

There is speculation that he will be called for The People v.

Clayton Hogan. While a prominent forensic scientist, Clayton Hogan is also suspected to be a member of The Order.

He is accused of a homicide involving the well-known Salvadori crime family. Phillips is one to watch.

My hand rises to my chest in an attempt to quell my battering heartbeat. “Is that all there is?”

“Yes.” He drags another armchair around to face me, studying my expression for a few beats.

“Nothing else about this case or your father. Maybe the judge found it to be irrelevant for his needs. But we did our own digging. Clayton Hogan claimed that the Salvadori family was harassing him, threatening him to dispose of evidence on a case they had a vested interest in, so when one of their guys showed up at the lab, he flipped out and shot them.”

“If they came to harm him, that would be self-defense.”

“Right.” Ryker scrubs his hand over the finely trimmed stubble on his jaw.

“That likely would’ve been the story since the lab cameras were off—or cut—except a camera from a nearby building caught the guy from the Salvadori family knocking on the door.

It showed him as nonthreatening, stepping back and holding out his hands. ”

My father’s words of wisdom wash over me. “We all present ourselves like a window, and those around us have various views into who we are. But none of that negates the profound perspective from the inside.”

I would have said I’d had an inside glimpse of who he was, but that was so wrong. I was the doting daughter, peeking through rose-colored glass, unable to spot the gray smoke wafting inside.

My stomach wrenches at the true picture. “So, Clayton Hogan would have been put away, but my father testified?”

“Your father submitted that the stress of constant threats had made Hogan paranoid, unable to sleep, and prone to blackout episodes—one of them occurring when he shot the victim. He served eighteen months in a psych ward before disappearing.”

A sigh billows out of me as I tuck my trembling hands under my thighs. “And since Hogan essentially got away with the murder because of my father’s testimony, the Salvadori family retaliated by killing my mother?”

“It looks that way, but there’s no way to know for sure.

The lawyer’s family was killed too. All deaths were tagged as accidents.

And someone sent the Salvadoris a warning in response.

There was little investigation, but from what we can tell, it was a goddamn mess, amounting in numerous casualties.

Because shit like this always results in a domino effect.

It’s precisely why we have hard-and-fast rules and consequences here.

Otherwise, one infraction leads to a dozen more.

But your father’s role in this world was more removed. He couldn’t have anticipated that.”

“Don’t defend him, certainly not based on your twisted logic.” I throw my hand into the air. “I don’t know what to do with this. Why show me today? This night is important to you, to the memory of your mom. Despite how distant I’ve been, I wanted it to be about that.”

He slides to the edge of his chair, closing the space between us, his characteristic intensity rolling off him in waves.

“I would have shown you sooner, but it took some finagling to get access to the book. And I wasn’t willing to wait because this is just another tragedy from our past, and I want to leave it there and move forward.

I don’t know how Dalton knew, but I didn’t find out until after he was dead. ”

I believe him, but I’m still disheartened. This is my world now. Maybe it always was.

Gilded lies.

A scoff leaps from my lips. “Even so, you knew my father was a member here, and this is the only way they get in, right? Emma told me her guy wanted to join, but he was turned away. Whether they get the reasoning for the rejection or not, I know it’s because he doesn’t have enough skeletons in his closet for you to lord over him.

So, my father must have. What the hell kind of group was The Order ?

Is that how he ended up here? Would my mother have known what he was involved with? ”

“I don’t make a habit of announcing anyone’s membership.

The Order is a secret society of professionals, so maybe that got him in.

I don’t know. But, yes, your mother would have known because they have requirements for spouses.

” His glacial blues flare with both ice and fire.

“He joined through my father. If you had asked, I would’ve told you.

But I didn’t know he belonged until after you went to college, and when you returned with your law aspirations, he had just died.

I wasn’t going to taint your view of him. ”

“You trapped me here.”

He’s not thrown off by my change of direction, nor is he unnerved by my contempt. “I did what was necessary to be certain you and Remy were safe. And I’d do it again.”

I can’t even look at him. My gaze drifts around the room, searching for something to fixate on when it lands on the laptop as a perplexing email notification pops up. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” His focal point flicks to the screen, but the notification is gone.

“An email came through with the subject Jett’s trust .”

His eyes flutter closed on a sighed, “Fuck.”

“Ryker.”

“I had a trust fund set up for him when he was born, but the name needs changed. So …”

“Show me.” I can’t breathe. And when he pulls up the document, I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. “This is for twenty-five million.”

The room shrinks to the screen, to the snarky comment Martina made about Ryker sending lawyers out of state, to the timing of the La Lune Noire staff day care, to him listing me as an employee here when I quit my job postpartum, to his celibacy, and to the rekindled nickname. There’s too much to ignore.

“ Was for twenty-five million.” He scrolls, showing me the correction, which clears up freaking nothing. “Now it’s seventy-five million because he gets twenty-five million at the ages of twenty-one, twenty-five, and thirty. Plus some other things.”

“Can we slow down for a minute?” I bury my face in my hands, hating myself for how blind I was and enraged that he kept this quiet. “You set up a twenty-five-million-dollar trust fund for the child I had with another man when I was still living with that other man?”

“What the fuck difference would that make?” His voice is sharp with anguish and betrayal. Because a part of him resents me for missing his intentions, and maybe he should.

Springing out of my chair, I snap, “To normal people? A lot.”

“Well, I’m not fucking normal.” He lurches out of his seat, landing before me.

“Obviously.” I gift him my most petulant eye roll as I take several steps backward. “This is something people do for family.”

And that’s the straw that breaks him.

His tone is gravelly, his eyes brim with pain, and his long arm flings out in ire toward Remy’s room. “That boy was my family the second he was conceived because he was part of you. And you are my family.”

That is a balm and a bruise. Oh, my heart.

It’s then that I realize he’s only held back because of me, because I’m broken, because I ran, because I keep telling him this is too much. But what was the reason before that? Was it only since I found out I was pregnant, since the day I began pushing him away?

My greatest dream and worst nightmare colliding.

Doing my best to squelch the tremor ripping through me, I inhale and exhale and feign composure. “That doesn’t sound like friendship. How would you have explained supporting my child to your future wife?”