20. Riley
My heart clenchesas I look down at Payton. I’ve never seen a dead body up close and personal, but that’s not really what I’m thinking about. I never liked her, but seeing her bloody and limp like this—knowing she’s gone—isn’t something I’d ever wish on anyone.
That’s what I’m thinking about. That she could be anyone. This dead girl who was just trying to prove herself, trying to make a mark in the dangerous, deadly world we’re all trying so hard to survive, isn’t so different from my sister. It could have been Chloe.Or me.
Maddoc’s jaw is clenched so tight it looks made of stone, and while I already know he’s a master of staying calm in the face of chaos, a leader who’s not ruled by emotions, he’s obviously affected by this.
I’m not jealous. I know there was nothing personal between them, and that even if there had been, it would have had nothing to do with me. No, what I feel right now is a different kind of ache.
I wish I could take this pain away from him.
He finally lets go of her hand, laying it out over her chest, then passes his hand over her face to close her eyes. No one says a word until we get back to the house.
Maddoc looks up when Logan stops in the driveway with the engine still idling. An unfamiliar car is already parked there, and several more that followed us from where the shootout went down pull up and park at the curb.
“You gonna pull into the garage?” Maddoc asks, his brow creasing.
“No,” Logan says as Dante twists around in the passenger seat, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it.
“Nah, Maddoc,” Dante adds. “You go in and deal with what you have to. We’ll take care of the… of Payton.”
Maddoc shakes his head. “Payton is my responsibility. I’ll—”
Dante reaches back and squeezes his shoulder. “No, Madd. Let us handle it. This ain’t on you.”
Maddoc looks like he’s about to argue again, and I know damn well he can’t be used to taking orders from others, but after a moment, he relents. He knows just like I do that Logan and Dante aren’t defying him. Maddoc’s still in charge, but they’re his family. They’re allowed to share some of his burden.
I meet Dante’s eyes for a moment, and he gives me a small, subdued smile. Then he pulls his shirt over his head and hands it to me before jerking his head toward the door, clearly wanting me to follow Maddoc.
I nod, a cold shiver wracking my body as I gratefully take his shirt and slip it over my head, knotting it at my waist. I’d all but forgotten that I used my own to try and stop Payton’s bleeding. I don’t want it back. Being surrounded by Dante’s lingering scent, the oversized shirt still warm from the heat of his body, is comforting in a way that I really fucking need right now.
The Escalade pulls away, Logan and Dante driving off with Payton’s body. By the time I head into the house after Maddoc, several other gang members have already piled out of the other cars too.
They follow us into the house.
“This was West Point?” I ask, my stomach tight as I instinctively move closer to Maddoc.
His jaw clenches again. “Yes,” he says tightly.
I already figured that much from what I overheard as we drove across town, but having him confirm it stirs up a level of panic in my gut that almost makes me feel sick. I don’t like the Reapers’ plans for Chloe, but if West Point finds out what they know and gets their hands on her—
I can’t stand to even think about it, but after seeing what just went down, I know for sure that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that never happens.
Maddoc leads us all into the living room, and a tall, skinny guy covered in ink and wearing a pair of small, round glasses approaches him. Maddoc’s eyes flick down to the large black bag the man’s holding.
“We don’t need it anymore, Shane.”
The man nods, his face solemn. “I heard. I’m sorry.” He holds up the bag. “Does anyone else…?”
“You can find out in a minute,” Maddoc says tightly, then looks around and beckons to a dark-haired man. “Luis.”
Luis comes over, his face wrecked. “I can’t believe—”
“Report,” Maddoc says, cutting him off harshly. “I need details. What the fuck happened? Why the hell were you and Payton over near Cliffton in the first place?”
Luis breaks out in a cold sweat, but to his credit, he doesn’t cower. “Payton got in touch this morning. She said she had a lead, something to help after what happened with Troy.”
“So you’re saying this was all Payton’s idea?” Maddoc demands.
Luis’s naturally olive-toned skin goes pale. “I didn’t mean, I’m not trying to, I mean, it was hers, but, uh…”
The man’s clearly uncomfortable blaming a dead woman, but Maddoc just waits out his stuttering, his face devoid of all emotion now. Finally, once Luis stutters into silence, Maddoc speaks.
“You both chose to disobey my orders today. I’m going to ask you why, but first I need the details about what went down. What did Payton tell you that convinced you it was a good idea to ignore my explicit directive not to engage with West Point at this time?”
It takes Luis a second, but he finally manages to answer. “Payton said that we’d be able to retaliate for what they did to Troy. Find out why they went after him and what they got. She said if we could be the ones to bring you that information, it would, uh, it would be worth the—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and finishes the final part in a strained whisper, “—the slap on the wrist.”
A wave of pure fury crosses Maddoc’s face, there and gone in the blink of an eye. “The slap on the wrist?” he repeats in a deadly calm voice. “Is that what you call today?”
Luis looks down. “Yeah. Fuck. I mean, no. I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to go down this way.”
Maddoc’s face stays blank, his hands loose at his sides, but I’d bet money that there’s not a person in the room who can’t see his bottled rage just under the surface. He doesn’t just value loyalty, he lives and breathes it, and with Payton literally dying in his arms, I can only imagine that the weight of responsibility he feels about her death must be crushing.
He sets it aside to get the facts he needs from Luis, and it’s not my business at all, but I’m suddenly beyond grateful that Maddoc has Logan and Dante in his corner to bear some of that weight.
Any Reaper in his organization would gladly lay down their life for Maddoc the way Payton just did, but Maddoc needs more than that. He can’t keep everything bottled inside forever, but I also get why he can’t let the people who look to him as their leader see how he really feels. Not when they count on him the way they do.
Maddoc lets his brothers in though, in a way that I can’t imagine he allows with anyone else. He lets them see all the shit that’s stuffed out of sight, kept locked away under the mantle of leadership he wears so damn well.
And maybe, for just a moment out in the car, he let me see it too.
“How exactly did you two expect today to go?” he asks Luis in a tight voice.
Luis swallows. “Well, uh, Payton knew you wanted to know what Troy told West Point before they, before he, you know. While they had him. And when she found out there was someone from higher up in McKenna’s crew out and about without any protection this morning, she figured we could extract that info for you if we got him on his own.”
“And how did you plan to get him to talk?”
“The same way those fuckers did to Troy.”
“That’s not what I tasked you with last night,” Maddoc says evenly. “If I remember correctly, you were assigned to watch the warehouses near Broadway and Fifth, and Payton should have been taking care of some business for me over at Hillside.”
Luis grimaces. “Yeah, boss. But she, uh, Payton thought this would be better.”
“Better?” Maddoc repeats in a dangerously calm tone. “Is she part of my inner circle? Does she know all the irons I’ve got in the fire? Can—” He pauses, then goes on, correcting himself to the past tense. “Could she see the big picture? Was that Payton’s call to make?”
Luis shakes his head, finally cowering. As he should, in my opinion. He fucked up by following her lead, and everyone in this room knows it.
“Tell me how it went down,” Maddoc says, staring down at Luis with an intensity of focus that makes me think he’s committing every word to memory as Luis nods eagerly and starts rattling off details about who Payton was tipped off by, how she planned everything, and what happened once they captured the guy.
And, of course, how it all went to shit, because he hadn’t been on his own after all.
Maddoc keeps all emotion out of it as he dresses Luis down, and while I get what he’s doing and why every man present needs to hear it, it hits me as he’s talking that I don’t know what my place is here. I guess I don’t technically have one, but I… care.
I don’t want to walk away even though I’ve got nothing to contribute here. And even though I stayed out of danger during all the shooting—stayed in the Escalade because when Maddoc told me to, his walls came down, just for a second, just long enough for me to see that he needed me to—I still feel raw from everything that happened today.
It affected me, and my emotions are in turmoil.
Once Luis finishes talking, looking wrecked and guilty after laying out just how stupidly he acted even if it sounds like it really was all Payton’s idea in the first place, Maddoc addresses the whole room, taking a moment to make eye contact with every Reaper as he speaks. “Every single one of you swore your allegiance to me. You did it for a reason, and I take those oaths seriously. But make no mistake, I am your leader. I run the Reapers. When you go behind my back, this is the kind of shit that happens. Is that clear?”
They all murmur their assent, and Maddoc turns back to Luis.
“You fucked up, and we lost one of our own. There will be consequences for today’s shit show. Consequences to our entire organization for the escalation with West Point, and consequences for you, personally.”
Luis swallows hard, but straightens his shoulder and nods. “Whatever I’ve gotta do.”
Maddoc’s jaw clenches again, but then he relaxes it. “Blood for blood. We’ll take care of it at the Yauger building, and then you’ll be doing perimeter runs until further notice, the midnight shift.” He pauses. “Once Shane clears you.”
Luis doesn’t argue, and I can only guess that “blood for blood” means some kind of… physical punishment. Which of course has me thinking of the “consequences” Maddoc gave me when I was the one who fucked up. Not that whatever punishment he’s just assigned Luis will be anything like that, obviously, but still, I’ve got no doubt that he belted me for the same reason he’s being hard on the young Reaper.
Because Maddoc feels responsible.
Because he cares.
Because he really is a good leader. The kind who deserves all the loyalty he gets.
Before everyone files out, Maddoc tasks them all with spreading the word throughout the organization.
“Every one of you needs to grow eyes in the back of your fucking heads,” Maddoc says grimly. “What went down today is all on West Point for grabbing Troy first, but McKenna will take any excuse to escalate, so be extra careful and vigilant out there from now on.”
“How about we just wipe out the weasels once and for all, so we don’t have to worry about that shit anymore?” one of the Reapers suggests.
Maddoc pins him with a hard stare. “How about you follow my fucking orders? And right now, those orders are not to go after West Point. Not yet. It’s my job to know when, where, and how to take the fight to them, and that’s not today.”
There’s a little bit of grumbling, but none of them argue.
That’s clearly not good enough for Maddoc, though.
“No one pulls any more Lone Ranger shit, is that clear?” he demands. “No one else acts without my say so.”
This time, they all agree more forcefully, and I stay out of the way as they finally leave. Maddoc stands like a statue, rigid and tense as he watches everyone file out, but the moment the door closes behind the last of them his shoulders slump.
One hand goes to the back of his neck, massaging the tension there. I know it’s not something he’d ever let himself do in front of his people, and even though he hasn’t said a word to me, isn’t looking my way at all, I know that he knows I’m here.
Which means he’s letting me see him like this.
He’s letting his guard down, now that it’s just the two of us.
I swallow down a lump in my throat, fighting with my emotions. We’ve got so much fucking baggage between us, but seeing Maddoc so wrecked, so obviously hurting, makes my heart ache.
I’m not supposed to care about him. He’s supposed to be my enemy. But I just can’t see him that way right now. I want to help.
He sighs, his hand falling away from the back of his neck, and it hits me hard when I realize that it still has Payton’s blood on it. Not just his hands. It’s all over him.
I go into the kitchen and wet a towel with warm water, not letting myself think too hard about why it feels so right to do this.
Maddoc hasn’t moved. He seems dazed and a bit out of it, and I can’t blame him.
“Riley?” he rasps out, when I reach for one of his hands and start wiping the blood off. “What are you doing?”
I turn the hand I’m holding over, carefully running the damp towel between each finger. “I’m cleaning you up.”
I know damn well it’s not what he’s really asking, but it’s all I’ve got.
“Why do you care?” he asks after a moment, making no move to stop me.
I’ve got no answer at all to that one, so I just push his sleeves back and keep removing the blood, then go on to his other hand.
“Fucking Payton,” he whispers, his hand spasming in mine, like it wants to make a fist.
I smooth it back out, straightening his fingers and gently wiping the blood off his palm. “It wasn’t your fault, Maddoc.”
“Everything that happens with my people is my fault.”
His tone is harsh, hurting, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.
I look up at him. There’s blood on his chin too. I wipe it away. “This wasn’t your fault.”
Those mesmerizing eyes of his blaze down at me, the gray at the edges of his irises so dark it almost looks black. Then he blinks and looks away, his hand—the one I’m still holding—tightening around mine.
“I’m the leader. The one in charge. They rely on me. Follow me.”
“They do,” I agree, smoothing his hand open again and running the warm towel over it.
Maddoc swallows. “She fucked up, they both did, but she thought she was doing it for me. Even at the end…”
“I saw the way she looked at you. That’s not your fault, either.”
His hands are clean, but I don’t stop running the towel over them. I can’t.
“I knew she had a crush on me,” he says in a low voice, staring down like he’s mesmerized by the slow, gentle circles I’m rubbing on his skin too. “I should have shut that shit down, but I figured it was harmless and I was fucking wrong. She was trying to impress me.”
I don’t know what to say. At least, not anything I haven’t already tried to tell him. He’s right about all of it. But it’s still not his fault.
“You were there for her,” I remind him. “You were with her at the end. She wasn’t alone. That means something.”
Maddoc barks out a harsh laugh, his hands tightening on mine again. “Does it? Because I never wanted her like that. The only one I want is—”
He breaks off, and when our eyes meet, my heart lurches, all the raw emotion I’ve been fighting, denying, right there in his eyes too. He’s laid bare to me, letting me see what I know down to my soul no one else does, and it means everything.
We’ve both made mistakes, but life is too short, and right now, for this small moment at least, there’s nothing but truth between us. I drop the towel and go up on my toes.
And then I kiss him.