15. Riley
The minuteI escape Maddoc’s penetrating gaze, I make a beeline for the room they gave me, doing my best to keep my mind blank.
I don’t want to think about how it felt to nearly die by Logan’s hand. I don’t want to think about why I almost felt safe for a moment when Dante stepped in and protected me. And I sure as hell don’t want to think about the confusing muddle of fear and attraction that Maddoc just stirred up.
As soon as I’m inside my bedroom, I shut the door and lean back against it, closing my eyes and letting my pulse return to a normal rhythm. As it does, my brain finally manages to fully process the most important thing that happened in the library—and it isn’t the fact that I almost died.
It’s the fact that Maddoc finally gave me his word.
The Reapers are going to help me get Chloe back.
The West Point leader may be a sadistic bastard, but Maddoc, Logan, and Dante are all ruthless motherfuckers on a whole different level.
And for now, at least, they’re on my side.
I blow out a slow breath, then push away from the door. It’s close to midnight, and I haven’t eaten in a long time. Maddoc didsay I could go to the kitchen, so I pretend my heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of my chest as I leave my room again and head downstairs.
Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone on my way to the kitchen. I grab a few easy items—a box of crackers and a jar of pickles from the pantry, and some sliced cheese and meat from the fridge—then dart back up to my room and close the door.
I ignore the idea of eating at the little desk in the corner and take my stash to the bed, chewing and swallowing without really tasting any of it. Then I crawl beneath the covers and fall into an exhausted but restless sleep.
I didn’t thinkto close the curtains before I passed out, and when I blink my eyes open late the next morning, feeling groggy and a bit disoriented, the room is full of bright sunlight. I squint and yawn, sitting up in bed as I tug at the oversized shirt Dante gave me.
To my surprise, there are a couple of familiar bags on the floor by the door.
Someone brought them in while I was sleeping.
My stomach flips over at that thought. At least one of the three men in this house seems to actively want to kill me, and the idea that someone came in here while I was asleep and vulnerable makes goosebumps break out over my skin.
Suppressing a shiver, I get up and go check the bags. They’re the two worn out totes that I keep in the back of my closet at our apartment, and sure enough, they’re full of my clothes and personal items.
I hate that some stranger was poking around in my personal space, touching my shit and going through my private things, but it does make me feel marginally better to have some of my own things here. I quickly tug off the clothes Dante left me and throw on the first things I grab from one of the bags. Some underwear, thank fuck. A tight pair of ripped jeans. A loose top in the same shade of blue as my hair.
I consider unpacking the bags and putting my clothes in the small closet opposite the desk, but I decide against it. I don’t plan on being here long anyway, and somehow, the idea of my bags being packed and ready to make a hasty escape when the time comes makes me feel better.
I drag the bags over to sit in front of the closet, though, just to get them out of the way, and as I do, my stomach growls. I slept longer than I meant to, and it’s past eleven already.
My eyes stray to the half-full box of crackers from last night. That and some pickles are all that’s left of my midnight snack. It’s tempting to just make do with that and call it good, but starving myself won’t do me any damn good, so I shove my still-packed bags against the closet door, then leave my room.
My footsteps pause for a second on the stairs when I hear voices, but I remind myself that I shouldn’t need to tiptoe around. I’m sticking to the areas Maddoc said I could be in, and maybe it will be a good thing if I run into one of the men. I want to get an update on their plans for retrieving Chloe, and the only way I’m going to find out what’s going on is to find someone who knows.
So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, then keep moving.
The voices are low and indistinct, and they’re coming from the living room, which I’ll have to pass by on my way to the kitchen. I try to identify the voices as I near the door to the living room, but I can’t—and when I peer tentatively through the door frame, I realize why.
A man and a woman are standing in the middle of the living room, their heads bent together as they speak. I don’t recognize either of them, but the woman has long red hair that reaches almost to her ass and a figure that would make her a shitload of tips if she danced at the club. That’s about all I can tell about her, since her back is to me.
The man stops talking when he notices me staring at them, his eyebrows twitching upward in a look of surprise, and when the woman loses his attention, she whirls around to find out why.
“Who the fuck are you?” She frowns, her eye flicking up and down my body in a quick appraisal.
I return the favor, taking her in now that I can see her more fully. She’s pretty, but hard looking. I’ve got no doubt she’s a Reaper just like the man is, both of them probably lower level members of Maddoc’s gang.
“Hey.” She stalks toward me when I don’t answer. “I asked you a question.”
I hesitate for a second, not sure what to say. Maddoc never mentioned whether our deal should be a secret or not, and I don’t want to misstep and piss him off again.
So I just go with, “I’m a guest.”
Technically, it’s true. The invitation may have been one I didn’t have the option to turn down, and my stay here will most definitely be enforced, but like Maddoc reminded me last night, I’m the one who came to them asking for help.
The redhead obviously thinks I mean a different type of guest, though. Her gaze lingers on my clothes and my sleep-mussed hair, then she glances behind me like she’s piecing together the fact that I came from upstairs. She smirks, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Fun night?” she asks coolly.
I almost laugh. That’s not quite how I’d describe it, and if she’s feeling jealous of me, I’d gladly trade places with her.
“It was a long night,” I answer, opting for a vague but honest answer.
She blinks, like she’s trying to figure out what I mean by that, but before she can say anything else, the sound of heavy footsteps coming toward the living room from the other side draws her attention.
Maddoc stalks into the room from the entrance opposite where I’m standing.
“Isaac. Payton,” he greets the two gang members, ignoring me completely. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
The redhead—who I’m guessing is Payton—gives me one last narrow-eyed glare and then turns her attention to Maddoc. There’s an instant shift in her demeanor as soon as he looks at her, her shoulders straightening and the frown lines around her mouth smoothing out as she smiles at him.
“Of course,” she tells him. “We brought you—”
“Wait.” He cuts her off with a raised hand as his gaze flicks to me.
Our gazes meet, and his eyes flare with something that makes my pulse quicken, there and gone so fast I can almost convince myself I imagined it. Then he jerks his head toward the door.
He’s clearly dismissing me so they can talk about whatever it is that these two brought him without me listening in, and after our… conversation in the library last night, I feel like it’s a good idea not to push his buttons this morning.
Without a word, I duck out of the living room doorway and pad toward the kitchen, aware of both Payton and Maddoc watching me as I go.
The low hum of voices picks up again as Maddoc resumes his conversation with the two gang members, and I take my time poking around the kitchen looking for something to eat as I unrepentantly try to eavesdrop.
I know I promised Maddoc I wouldn’t go poking around in “unapproved” parts of the house, but I’m not technically breaking that rule right now. And even though I have no interest in the inner workings of his gang, I can’t help the curiosity that tugs at me. The more I can learn about this world as a whole, the better off I’ll be when it comes to facing off with West Point.
But unfortunately, his voice is just a low, steady rumble in the other room, and I can barely make out any words.
I take an apple from a bowl of fruit on the counter and idly polish its bright red skin as I wander closer to the kitchen doorway, where I might be able to hear a little better.
There’s something about a casino.
Names of people I’ve never heard of.
Payton says something I can’t pick up, and I lean a little closer, turning my head to try to get a better angle… when a heavy hand suddenly lands on my shoulder.
My heart jolts up to a mile a minute, and I whirl around, instinctively lashing out. Dante chuckles, grabbing my wrist before I can land a punch.
“You’ve got a fighter’s instincts,” he comments, an appreciative glint in his green eyes.
I let out a shaky breath, yanking my wrist out of his hand. “Jesus. I didn’t even hear you.”
His grin gets wider. “Yeah, your attention was elsewhere.”
He gives a pointed look toward the conversation happening in the living room, but then his smile drops, and he glances down at my neck. There’s a tiny bruise on one side of my throat from where Logan wrapped his hand around it, and I can practically feel Dante’s gaze moving over that small mark.
“Those instincts of yours aren’t a bad thing, princess. You were putting up a good goddamn fight against that fuckwad the night we met, but you might want to rein them in a little before they get you in trouble,” he murmurs, the softness in his eyes almost enough to fool me into thinking he cares.
I huff out a breath. “If I wasn’t constantly surrounded by people who’d be happy to kill me, maybe I wouldn’t have to be so jumpy.”
“Just offering some words of advice.” He shrugs, running his hand over the light shadow of stubble on his broad jaw.
“Did I ask for it?”
“You don’t have to. I’m generous like that.”
The voices in the other room get a little louder, a little more strident, drawing my attention that way again. I start to turn my head, but Dante grabs my chin and tilts my face back toward him, a smile tugging at his lips. “More free advice?”
“No, thank you.”
“You might want to rein in the eavesdropping around here too,” he continues anyway. “Didn’t Maddoc talk to you about snooping last night?”
“I’m not. I wasn’t. I… I’m just trying to get some breakfast,” I mutter, but his warning has the desired effect as the reality of the risks I’m taking by going against Maddoc’s rules crashes over me like a wave.
Luckily, Dante doesn’t push the eavesdropping issue, even though I can tell he doesn’t believe I’m only here for breakfast.
Of course he doesn’t believe it. He didn’t believe my lie last night either.
It’s easy to see why the Reapers are such a dominant gang now that I’ve met their leadership. Maddoc, Dante, and Logan are all so different from each other, but one thing they’ve clearly got in common—besides their ruthlessness and obvious loyalty to each other—is how sharp they each are.
“Come on.” Dante plucks the apple out of my hand and tosses it back into the fruit bowl, breaking into my thoughts.
“What are you doing?” I ask, moving to pick it up again. “I’m hungry.”
“Good. Because I’m gonna take you out.”
My heart trips in my chest, my hand freezing in mid-air as I blink at him. “You are?”
“Yup.”
“Where are you going to take me?” I ask, arching a brow suspiciously.
“Wherever I want, princess.” His lips slide into an easy grin. “Wherever I want.”