11. Riley
“Okay,so do I borrow one of your cars, or what?” I ask, belatedly noting that I’ve given exactly zero thought to what happened to my own car after these guys forced me to come live with them. Is it still parked in the back lot of Clancy’s?
It’s a piece of shit, so it’s not like I care that much, except that when we do finally find Chloe, it might be nice to have it on hand so I can get the two of us out of Halston.
I put a pin in that to figure out later, already suspecting I’m not going to like Maddoc’s answer about how I’m supposed to get over to Frank’s place, based on his smirk.
“Logan will drive you,” he says, wrapping a hand around my arm and hauling me to my feet.
“Fine,” I say, shaking his hold off and stalking toward the garage.
It’s not just Logan who follows me, though. Dante and Maddoc are right behind him.
I’m not sure why they all plan on coming along. Frank’s a piece of shit, but he’s a weak one, so it can’t be for muscle. I can only assume it’s a sign of how little they trust me.
Which is fine, because I trust them even less.
I head toward the big, black Escalade we used when we went to rescue Chloe from the Capside deal, but Logan shakes his head. “I’m driving,” he says, nodding toward another car. One that sits low to the ground and looks like sex on wheels.
“In that?”
I definitely don’t mind.
“Yes,” Logan says in his usual clipped style, but a rare, fleeting smile crosses his lips, and I almost stumble over my feet as I stare in surprise.
He strokes the top of the shiny red car in a way that’s almost sensual. It’s the first time I can remember seeing him actually like something.
Dante catches the look on my face and laughs. “I know, right?” he says, ushering me toward the back and crowding in next to me once I slip into the leather seat. “Logan’s picky about what he likes to drive. The Audi is his baby.”
It’s pretty much what I was just thinking, but I definitely don’t need a bonding moment between us, so I ignore him.
I give Logan Frank’s address, and he pulls out of the garage with Maddoc in the front seat next to him, already murmuring quietly into his phone.
It sounds like he’s checking in with various people who’ve been out looking for Chloe, but I can tell by the tone of his voice that all the news is negative.
“Any idea how deep your dad is in with McKenna?” Dante asks as Logan navigates through traffic.
I glare at him, but before I can snap about his use of the “dad” title that Frank has never deserved, Dante’s already correcting himself. Proving he paid attention to what I told him before, and that it’s not my imagination—he really can read me like a book.
“Sorry. I meant Frank. I get that he wasn’t a real dad to you.”
“Yeah, not even close. And I’ve got no clue about his involvement with West Point. I worked hard to keep him out of our lives, and didn’t even know he did business with them.”
“Understandable,” Dante says, squeezing my knee in, what? Some kind of support?
I don’t need it.
I knock his hand off my leg and pointedly look out the window, giving him my back. I don’t need his understanding or support. He’s already chosen his gang over me, and it’s a betrayal I’m not going to forget and have no intention of forgiving.
I pop out of the car the minute Logan pulls up in front of Frank’s place, leading the way up the walk. Frank’s been dead to me ever since he sold Chloe out, and if it weren’t for her, there’s no way I’d ever step foot in his house again.
That’s not the way life works though, so despite the knot in my stomach, I don’t waste time dithering. I give a brisk knock as soon as I reach his door.
“Who’s there?” comes Frank’s muffled response.
I roll my eyes and knock again, louder. And then again. He finally pulls the door open, letting out a waft of stale air, cheap liquor, and rank body odor.
“Jesus, Frank,” I say, disgusted even if I’m not surprised. Clearly, he’s been hard at work doing his usual freeloading bunch of nothing, not torn up at all about what my sister was going through after he sold her off to Austin McKenna.
Frank gives me a sloppy smile, blinking blearily as he shoves his loose shirttail under his beer belly, trying and failing to tuck it back into his pants.
“Riley! Hey, honey girl. Wasn’t expecting you. Come in, come in. You’re looking good.”
I can’t believe he’s pulling his usual bullshit, acting like everything’s okay. Like I didn’t punch him in the fucking face the last time I saw him. I’m too worried about Chloe to waste time being annoyed by what a shithead he is, so I shove my way past him, taking him up on that offer to come inside.
The guys are right behind me, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a moment of gratification out of the way Frank blanches when he sees them.
“Who, uh, who did you bring with you, Riley?” he asks, his voice cracking as his bleary eyes dart between me and the solid wall of muscle that Maddoc, Dante, and Logan make on his doorstep.
He’s scared. It’s a beautiful sight.
“Friends,” I say. “Of Chloe’s.” A hundred percent not true, but still fun to say for the way it makes Frank’s face go green. “I suggest you invite them in too.”
“No need,” Maddoc says with a dangerous smile, grabbing Frank’s shoulder in a punishing grip and steering him into the house.
Logan and Dante follow, moving around the room until all exits are blocked.
Maddoc lets Frank go, and he swallows with an audible gulp. “You, uh, you guys West Point?”
A faint look of disgust flashes across Logan’s face, and Dante makes a rude sound.
“No,” Maddoc says simply, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Hell no,” I spit out, suddenly furious. “Do you honestly think I’d have anything to do with those West Point motherfuckers after they took my fucking sister? These are Reapers, Frank. The people I went to for help after you sold her.”
I can’t tell if the expression on Frank’s face is guilt or if he’s about to shit himself, and I honestly don’t care. Especially not when his go-to response is to deny any responsibility. “More of a business arrangement than an actual sale,” he says, holding his hands up as a bead of sweat rolls down the side of his face. “And come on now, no harm, no foul, right? It’s just a temporary thing. You gotta know I always planned on getting her back. She’s my little girl.”
“Fuck you,” I spit out, then bite my tongue. I’m not here just to ream him out, as satisfying as that would be. “Have you heard from her?”
Frank’s eyes dart around the room again, skittering away from the glowering stares from each Reaper. “You mean, uh, like recently?”
“Yeah, I mean fucking recently. Has she made contact with you at all? Called? Come by?”
His face brightens. “She’s not with West Point anymore?”
I ball my hands into fists to keep from punching him. “Answer me!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, the smile dropping from his face as he makes a settle down gesture and backs away a little. Then he realizes that puts him closer to Logan, and stops in his tracks. “Not sure why you’re so worked up, honey girl. You just said she’s not with them anymore, so—”
I don’t know what he sees on my face, but whatever it is, he shuts the fuck up and swallows hard.
“Have you heard from her, or not?”
Another bead of sweat drips down the side of his face, and he shakes his head. “Uh, no. I don’t think so. No. Definitely not. Not since, you know, before.”
“You mean, before you fucking sold her.”
“But you said she got away! See? It all worked out, just like I said. I knew they wouldn’t hold on to her, right? Didn’t I say that? And they didn’t.”
I stalk toward him. “They did fucking hold on to her. They used her. Degraded her. They hurt her, Frank! We got her out. But now she’s on the streets of Halston somewhere, all on her own, and I… I need to… I don’t know where…”
I’m so angry my voice starts to shake, my thoughts in just as much of a mess as my emotions. His cavalier attitude about the complete shit-fest he got Chloe into and all his self-serving lies have ripped something open inside me, and I’m not sure how to hold myself together. I’m not even sure if I want to try.
“I can’t fucking believe you!”
“Now, just calm down, Riley,” he starts, backing away from me again. “If you need help finding your sister, I can help with that, but I can’t, uh, if you do something silly here, I’m not gonna be able to—mpgggff.”
The empty bullshit he’s spouting turns into a pained gurgle when Logan suddenly grabs him by the throat and slams him against the wall. “Shut the fuck up.”
I’m so used to Logan’s stillness, his control, that it’s a shock to see how quickly he moves. And an even bigger shock to realize he’s doing more than just acting like muscle. His whole body vibrates with anger as he glares into Frank’s eyes, fury radiating off him in a palpable cloud.
“Your job was to protect your daughters,” he says, his voice dripping with venom, “not sell them. You’re a pathetic piece of shit. You had something precious. Something to care for. And you failed.”
Frank’s hands scrabble at Logan’s wrist, his toes barely touching the floor. His face is starting to turn blue, and I can’t find it in myself to care, because Logan’s right.
“You don’t deserve to live,” he says, slamming Frank into the wall again.
Frank’s head makes a sickening crack, and his eyes roll up, his nails digging bloody scores into Logan’s arm.
Logan doesn’t even flinch. He just leans closer, his grip noticeably tightening, and whispers something in Frank’s ear. Whatever it is puts a look of utter terror on Frank’s face, taking his efforts to get loose from panicked to completely frantic.
It makes no difference. Logan is relentless. And based on Frank’s wildly rolling eyes and the choked, gurgling whine he manages to make, he’s finally realized the truth too.
He’s not getting out of this.
Logan is actually going to kill him.