Wicked Riot (Riot MC #9)

Chapter 1

I'm Not a Bad Guy

Savannah

Two months ago…

I wheeled our oversized garbage can along the side of the house, intent to beat the sunset.

Thanks to a mist-like drizzle, the air was especially humid.

I heard a vehicle splashing through the puddles in the street.

As I maneuvered the bin onto the driveway, I saw a black BMW sedan parked cock-eyed in the drive.

A well-dressed man stood next to the front quarter panel of the car.

I moved the trash can in front of me. It made for a lousy line of defense, but it was better than nothing, since I’d left my cell phone inside.

He moved closer. This man stood a couple inches taller than me, had quite a bit of bulk, though he also had a gut.

The overcast sky was dimming quickly as dusk gave way to nightfall.

He wore dark, aviator-style sunglasses, which not only made me uneasy, but considering the lack of sunshine, they also seemed pretentious, though the glasses went well with his crisp, charcoal gray dress pants and his short-sleeved black polo shirt.

He had brown hair, cut close on the sides and parted to the left up top.

His chiseled cheeks sported a five o’clock shadow.

If it weren’t for how uneasy he made me feel, I might find him attractive.

I opened my mouth to ask if he was lost, but he spoke first. “Heard your mother died.”

Seeing as Mom had passed away one month and ten days ago, I found that opener to be abrupt, forward, and incredibly rude.

I tried to control my rising temper. “May I ask who you are?”

A dark brow rose from behind his sunglasses. “Surprised you don’t know. I’m Frank Darren.”

My mind tripped over his first statement. I’d never seen this man in my life, why would he think I should know him?

I powered onward. “And how did you know my mother?”

A small grin tipped up his lips. “We did business together.”

I cocked my head to the side. “You work at the—”

“I’m not a coworker of hers. She took out a loan with me. A very sizable loan.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, but now that she’s gone, there’s no more money to be had. Even her credit card companies forgave—”

“Save it, Savannah. In my line of work, her debt is now your debt.”

I gripped the metal bar on the backside of the trash bin to steady my nerves. “That’s ridiculous. Besides, I’ve been through her bank account, she didn’t have any large sums of money stashed away. How much could she possibly owe you?”

His arm snaked behind his waist, and he yanked an envelope out of his back pocket. “She took out a loan for thirty-five thousand dollars.”

My eyes went wide while my stomach felt like it had dropped to my ankles. That couldn’t be right. Hell, I didn’t even make that much money in a year! Mom earned about forty-two grand, but she was gone.

My brain latched onto that fact and kicked my mouth into gear. “Mom died over a month ago. You can’t get money out of a dead person,” I cried.

A smarmy grin slid across Frank’s lips. He pulled off his sunglasses, revealing cunning brown eyes. “That’s true… for normal debt. This isn’t normal, Savannah. I need my money, and bein’ your momma’s daughter and knowin’ what your Daddy does—”

At the mention of my dad, I couldn’t stop myself from interjecting, “Before the funeral, I hadn’t talked to Dad in years! He has nothing to do with me.”

Malice flared in his eyes at my interruption, and he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “That means you gotta pay up. What’s hers is now yours.”

Mom had done drugs in the past. It was how she and Dad met, but she’d cleaned up her act when I was seven and my sister, Catalina, was in the womb. Which was part of why she and Dad split. He opted to get dirtier by fencing stolen property.

I couldn’t imagine why she owed Frank Darren thirty-five thousand dollars.

I felt trembles moving through my body. “I don’t have that kind of money, Frank!”

He sauntered up the drive at an angle. I stood immobile, realizing too late that I should have shifted to the other side of the trash can.

He eyed me up and down. “Hot piece like you, I’m sure you can figure something out.”

My face fell and I meant to hide my lip curl, but it couldn’t be helped.

He shook his head. “I meant you could find a man who’s good for it, but if you want to repay me in trade, I might consider it.”

“You’re disgusting. You can’t expect me to pay, I’m calling the cops!”

His brown eyes darkened and he edged closer.

“You call the cops, you’ll regret it. I do more than loan money.

Some of my customers, when they get high, they also get horny.

Most of them are tired of the working girls.

” He eyed the outside of the house like it interested him.

“This is a nice place, and it isn’t too far from where I deal.

Only takes ten, fifteen minutes to get here.

I’ll tell them they got their choice of you or your virgin sister. ”

My mouth dropped open. “You wouldn’t,” I breathed.

He snickered under his breath. “Hell, even if your sister ain’t a virgin, they’ll believe me.”

I stared at him, wishing I had a weapon.

He shoved the envelope at me, and I took it - there was no telling what he’d do if I didn’t.

“No cops, or your sister might not make it to school one morning.”

Dread settled heavy and cold in my bones.

I watched him walk down the driveway to his car.

He backed out and drove off. I was so freaked, I scurried inside, locked the door, and peeked in on Catalina.

She’d gone to her room an hour ago to work on her junior project.

I stuck my head in the doorway. She had her back to me, noise-canceling headphones were perched on her head, and she was focused on her laptop.

I eased the door closed and went to the living room.

It struck me that I’d left the trashcan in the middle of the driveway.

I stashed the envelope inside the junk drawer, grabbed a butcher knife, and hurried out to finish that chore.

Back in the house, I locked the door, feeling like a complete fool running around with a kitchen utensil to defend myself. Better safe than sorry, though. A massive sigh tore through my body and I sagged onto the couch. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I knew I needed help.

In the morning, I watched from the window as Catalina backed out of the drive and headed to school. With her gone for the day, I got dressed before I could chicken out on my plan.

Years ago, the Jacksonville Sheriff’s office hosted community coffee talks at various restaurants. I knew about that because at the time, Dad had made fun of it. “Like Donny Do-Gooder is gonna be able to help the cops while stuffing his face with donuts and black coffee. Waste of time and money.”

In my internet search last night, I didn’t see a single listing for anything like that.

However, I found there were a few substations scattered around town.

One was located in a strip mall not far from where my best friend, Alanis, lived.

An Elliano’s coffee shop sat in front of the strip mall, and I bought a chai latte and a large coffee in hopes of ingratiating myself with whoever would talk to me.

The female officer sitting behind the four-foot-high counter shook her head the moment I walked inside. “Take that back to your car, ma’am. No outside beverages.”

That wasn’t the start I’d hoped for, but I followed her directions and came back with nothing more than my keys and wristlet. There didn’t appear to be many officers around who could talk to me so early in the morning. Most likely, they were out dealing with real cases.

“Are you here to make a report?” the female officer asked.

I nodded.

She put a form on the counter. “Fill this out with the name of all parties involved.”

Stiltedly, I wandered to the counter. If I had to put Frank’s name on paper… they would go talk to him.

God, I was so stupid!

What had I been thinking? That would be the ultimate tip-off that I spoke to the cops. The form had lots of blanks and had even more questions on the other side.

I grinned at her. “I’ll just take this home and bring it back. Is that okay?”

She gave me a hard-eyed stare as if she could see right through to the chicken-shit I happened to be. Finally, she said, “Suit yourself.”

Inside my car, my body shook almost as bad as it had last night.

I sipped my chai latte, took a few deep breaths, and headed home.

The high-pitched notes of a saxophone blared from the television indicating The Bold and the Beautiful had ended.

It also reminded me I needed to hit the grocery store.

I tied a knot in the huge, yellow donation bag for the Vietnam Veterans of America.

I’d been packing up Mom’s clothes with the TV on for background noise.

With any luck, it was the last bag of Mom’s stuff to be collected.

Catalina wanted me to hold off on purging the closet, but neither of us would ever wear Mom’s clothes.

I had a few items set aside for Cat since she had a sentimental streak, but we were better off moving forward.

We’d never get over her death, but hanging on to Mom’s things in an effort to hang on to her wouldn’t do us any good either.

Catalina’s high school dismissed around two-twenty. She and her friends would hang out at a random fast-food place for an hour most afternoons.

Since she’d be home within two hours, I dumped the bag in the guest bedroom, so it didn’t sit as a reminder. My phone rang in the kitchen, and I hurried to see who was calling. It wasn’t a number I recognized, but in dealing with Mom’s death, I had all kinds of unknown people calling.

“Hello?” I answered.

Frank Darren’s voice filled my ear. “When your sister gets home, ask her if her skin prickled this afternoon. The way she looked over her shoulder, I know she felt us watching her. Gary likes ‘em young, don’tcha Gare?”