Chapter 33
RYKER
When we pulled up to Sloane’s house, she was fidgety. She parked in the driveway, and I scanned the street and the yard for anything suspicious. I’d never been here, but I knew what to look for.
It was still early afternoon, which was the point.
I wanted to see the place in the daylight and before dinner with Ella and Bass.
Hell, dinner was its own variable. I didn’t even know who would be there—if Kip and Holland were coming, or if it would only be us.
I hadn’t thought to ask after Ella told me why she’d stopped by.
Death didn’t do loose variables. He’d made that clear more than once.
Sloane had witnessed Mick. That alone made her a liability in his eyes, and I hadn’t figured out yet how to frame what she was to me—let alone what she knew.
Bringing her to that table tonight would be either the smartest move I’d made or the one that blew everything apart.
A searing pain shot through my head, and I looked away from Sloane, wincing. I hadn’t shared with her what Ella wanted. I couldn’t.
When Ella played the voicemail I’d left her over a year ago, the same night I’d been attacked, my stomach rolled. She stared at me with those big green eyes, silently begging me to tell her what I’d learned. What the Pied Piper was holding over her head.
I was never supposed to know. No one was. Even if I wanted to tell her, I couldn’t.
I didn’t remember any of it. Not the fucking call. Not the goddamn voicemail. Nothing.
It was clear whatever I’d learned was huge. Big enough to get me beaten to death. The relief on her face when I admitted I didn’t recall any of those details was huge, and I gave her a big hug.
What it had done was renew my promise to find the motherfucker who had beaten me. I had a sneaking suspicion the Pied Piper was behind it, but I couldn’t prove it. Yet.
Whatever he had over Ella, I’d fucking bury him for it. Ella was one of the best people I’d ever met. She was perfect for Bass, and he knew it. He’d found something rare with her.
We didn’t keep secrets. Not from each other. Not from Kip, me, or Ryan. Loyalty was the only thing we’d ever been good at. We were family. We’d crawled through hell together.
Nothing could rip us apart.
You sure?
The thought hit hard enough to make me flinch. I wanted to believe in us. I did. But I’d seen what Kip had been forced to carry, and I knew better than anyone that one secret could split a life right down the fucking middle.
My stomach turned sour.
“Ready?” Sloane asked as she turned off the car.
“Yeah. I’ll go in first. You stay here.” I held out my hand for the keys. “Lock your car doors.”
“Ryker, it’s broad daylight in a good neighborhood.”
I turned slowly and she closed her mouth. “This isn’t up for debate. Someone was in your home in this good neighborhood. And what time was it?”
“Still daylight.”
“Exactly.” I opened the door and climbed out, quickly assessing everything around me.
I walked around the back of her yard. It was small, but manageable for one person.
I noticed the garden in the back corner, an oak and a few younger maple trees.
No fence, which meant the bastard who’s let himself in her house had access.
I didn’t like it. I wondered how that motherfucker would feel with an electric fence around her yard.
Next, I walked to the back door but didn’t touch anything. I checked the frame. No marks. I examined each window from the outside, then the garage doors, before I approached the front. Nothing. Someone had a fucking key, which meant I was changing every damn lock on her house immediately.
Why the hell didn’t she have cameras? She used to be a detective, for Christ’s sake. She should have wanted eyes on her home.
I paused. I’d seen that kind of refusal before. The kind born in houses that weren’t safe. Kip had even mentioned Holland refused cameras in or around her home. I wondered if Sloane had a similar reason.
I unlocked the front door and opened it carefully.
Since Sloane was watching my back from the front, I left it open.
As soon as I stepped in, I lifted my jean leg enough to grab my knife.
The crow feathers glinted in the light as I adjusted my grip.
Truth be told, I was ready to fucking use it again, dissect some sick fuck.
Mick had dulled the itch, so had all the sex, but it was returning.
I needed to talk to Death soon. But first, I had to be sure Sloane didn’t know anything about it and wouldn’t find out. One murder was enough. Even if she seemed willing to play along.
I would talk to Ella and Holland, see if they could stay close to Sloane for a while. Get their read. Keep her busy and safe.
Fuck, did it matter?
Yeah. It did.
I walked into the living room, seeing her place for the first time.
A mug on the coffee table next to a few books.
The kitchen was spotless, but I didn’t miss the whiskey bottles in the recycling next to the trash.
My girl liked to drink. I supposed it came with the territory of a missing brother and foster families.
Hopefully she was finding a little peace.
Her bedroom, bathroom, and closet were next, but nothing seemed suspicious. I glanced at the wall. Sloane was right, there were still traces of blood that had managed to work into the texture of the drywall. That would be fixed soon enough.
After her room, I made my way to the other bathroom, then last room on the right. The door was closed, so I opened it quietly. I flipped on the light, and I stopped cold. Red thread across a board that took up the entire wall.
“Holy shit,” I muttered, my grip tightening on the knife handle. My gaze traveled over it as a whole, then landed on a picture of … me? I walked closer. Fuck, there were two images of me. I ripped them off the goddamn board and stared at them. Death was standing behind me in one.
Footsteps approached, then her voice. “You found my war room.” She leaned against the door frame, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Is that what you call it?” I held up the pictures, but I wasn’t giving them back. “How long, Sloane?” I growled.
“I already told you. After I saw the rabbit tattoo on your arm, I started to look into who you were. That’s the truth.”
I shook my head and pointed to the picture of Death and me.
“How did you get this?” Had we been compromised a while ago and had no idea?
I flipped the picture over, looking for a time stamp, but there wasn’t one, which was fucking odd.
Whoever sent it didn’t want anyone tracing where it came from.
That wasn’t an accident. It was a damn message.
“It was mailed to me.”
My heart stuttered. “What? By who?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know, but my guess is the same person that’s been texting and showing up in my house. It all happened around the same time, and every message has pushed me toward you. That’s why I think you’re more connected to Nate than we realize.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Someone out there knows what we do, Sloane. We were compromised before you ever found out.” I wrapped my hand around the images and crumpled them.
“I didn’t know, Ryker. That was all they sent. You can’t even see the person behind you. It wasn’t like I ever showed anyone. I kept your secret when you told me why you killed Mick, what you do. I know this looks bad, and I agree someone knows about you and your friends, but it wasn’t me.”
I looked into her eyes and straight into her soul. Regret was written all over her face.
“Would you have ever shown me this room? The pictures?”
“Yes, but in my defense, we just started …” She pointed back and forth between us.
“Tell me everything. Right now. What else do you know? Who did you tell? Has anyone else seen that board?” My voice went sharper. “There’s no lock on this room. Anyone could walk in and see my picture plastered on your wall. Do you have any idea how much damage that could have done?”
“Ryker, I didn’t know,” she said. “It was about Nate. About the rabbit tattoo. Not taking you down for saving women and kids. Please, believe me.”
She stepped closer and my body went rigid. “Okay. Take feelings out of it. Look at the facts.”
That got my attention. My brain liked facts. Numbers. “Fine.”
“I’ve had that picture since right after your attack,” she said. “I never looked into who was behind you. For all I knew, you two were at a Halloween party. It’s only a shadow. I can make out shoulders, nothing else. No face. What am I supposed to do with that?”
She hesitated, then added, “And if I wanted to do something to you, I’ve had a year.”
“You showed up at the Ritual to get close to me,” I growled. “Someone sent you.”
“Yes,” she said, steady. “And I told you that. I didn’t hide it. Even after we met, I didn’t turn you in. I followed you, yeah—but you knew that too.” Her gaze locked on mine. “So look me in the eye and tell me. Since we started talking, what have I lied about? What have I kept from you?”
“This room.”
“And you don’t think I knew you’d see it?” she shot back. “I sat in my car, and I knew damn well you’d open that door and find the board.” Her voice dropped, quieter but firm. “If I was hiding it, we wouldn’t be standing in here. Together.”
She glanced around once. “I don’t bring anyone in here. Ever. If anything, it proves I’ve known things about you longer than you realized, and I still didn’t dig deeper. I didn’t hand you, or your friends, over to the cops.” Her expression sharpened. “Not even after what I saw in the woods.”
Her answer came a beat too clean. Like she’d edited something out before she said it. I filed that away.
She moved a little closer, and I realized I still had my knife in one hand. The pictures in the other.
“It all adds up. What you’re saying all makes sense.
” Maybe my paranoia was getting the better of me.
There wasn’t any proof that Death and I were doing anything illegal.
Hell, you couldn’t even see him. Even if Sloane hadn’t done a deep dive into the Horizon Society and Death’s activities, someone else had, and I needed to find out who.
“Ryker, I know that what you do is risky as hell, but if we’re doing this, you have to trust me.
I swear on my fucking life that I’m on your side.
Has it occurred to you that if you go down, I go down by association?
A jury gets a hold of the fact that I’ve been in your bed all week, there wouldn’t be enough proof to sway them that I’m not guilty.
They’d think I was in it all right along with you. ”
It hadn’t occurred to me, but she was right.
Over the last week, she’d willingly walked into my world and stayed.
She wasn’t even a detective anymore, so she couldn’t use the excuse that she was undercover.
When we were at the bunker, I’d dug into every nook and corner of her life, except foster care.
She was a minor, and unless something triggered me in her more recent past, there was no reason to look into her childhood.
I shoved the pictures in my back pocket, then pulled up my jean leg and replaced my knife in its sheath.
Her brow rose slightly. “Is that the knife you used to cut off my clothes?” The corner of her mouth twitched.
“Same one.”
“And the same one you used to kill that man?”
“Same.”
She placed her hand on my chest. “Do you know what that does to me?”
I didn’t answer, just stared at her.
Her fingers trailed down my chest and stomach to the waist of my jeans. She palmed my cock and gave a gentle squeeze. “Everything.”
I wrapped my hand around her throat, but she didn’t flinch.
“Good. And if I’m going to trust you, you have to give me everything.” I wasn’t only talking about her mind and body. I wanted every fucking file and piece of information she had on Nate and the rabbit, on me.
“I will. It’s all locked away on the computer.”
I dropped my hand and pulled the chair out for her.
As much as I wanted to fuck her, I needed more answers.
I trusted her, and every fact she’d rattled off was proof I could trust her when my brain started playing games with me.
She had only gone after me once she saw the tattoo, but I needed to know who the hell was pushing her toward me.
How were Sloane, Nate, and me all tied together?
She sat down and wiggled the mouse, the screen coming to life.
“Do you remember anything about the tattoo? When you got it? Who the artist was?”
I rubbed my chin, recalling anything I could.
“I was seventeen and had snuck out of the house to a party. Bass was living with us, so he covered for me. It was a typical high school party, drinking, pot, pills, and girls. I was a stoner and hard-core nerd, so I didn’t get invited to a lot of parties. ”
She opened a file and glanced at me. “This is the first picture I have of Nate with his tattoo. You can see the plastic is still over it. He said he was at a party and a guy was there giving tats for super cheap. I was so pissed. Not only had he been drinking, but he had no information on this guy, or safety policies. Apparently, the guy popped into big parties, made a quick buck, then disappeared. Does any of that sound familiar?”
I stared at the picture, racking my brain for any memories.
“It was a guy. He was in a bedroom or maybe a craft room or some shit. There was a chair and a small table. There were a ton of people in line, but he didn’t take everyone …
only a few of us, then said he had another place he had to be.
” I briefly looked away, a little embarrassed about the next detail.
“Guess I drank so much that when he turned the fucking needle on, I passed out cold. I woke up a few hours later on someone’s couch.
I don’t even think it was the same couch that was in the living room at the party. ”