13. Riley
13
RILEY
“ T here’s not a snowball’s chance in hell that you’re going to that dinner,” Logan snarls like a rabid dog as he paces back and forth in front of the kitchen island.
Grayson throws his hands up. “Finally, someone who’s on the same page as me,” Grayson rejoices, lifting his closed fist to Logan as he passes.
I roll my eyes as they bump knuckles. Ignoring them both, I shift all of my attention to Royce. At least he’s still capable of thinking rationally. Planting my hands on my hips, I huff out a sigh. It’s not that I want to go. It’s the last place on earth I want to be. However… “She said if I came to dinner, she’d tell me everything.”
The three of us are spread out in the kitchen, looking as exhausted and beaten as the next. To say it’s been a long week and a half is an understatement. It’s been awful . Words can’t even describe what it’s been like, existing without the knowledge that my daughter is safe, fed, and sleeping somewhere comfortable.
Fuck, not even knowing whether she’s still breathing. If there is life left in her eyes.
My flimsy walls shake and begin to crumble before I wrench my thoughts in a different direction.
I can’t think like that.
I can’t allow myself to fall into that hopelessness.
It won’t do me any good, and it won’t help Aurora.
I need to be strong—for both of us.
Grayson scoffs, glaring at me with a questioning raise of his eyebrow. “You don’t seriously believe her, do you?”
“Of course not,” I snap. “But maybe if I play it right, she’ll slip up. Give me a piece of information we can use.” I shake my head, shoulders dropping. “I don’t know, but if she knows anything, then I have to try.” There have been no new developments since the false lead, and the burner phone Logan and Royce found was a dead end. Blue couldn’t triangulate a location from the message left on it. Meaning, we’ve got nothing. “It’s been eleven days, and we are no closer to finding her.” My voice cracks over the words, and Logan is by my side instantly, pulling me into his strong frame.
Royce clears his throat, drawing my attention to where he’s standing on the opposite side of the kitchen. He’s leaning against the countertop, his bulky arms folded over his chest. Where Grayson and Logan immediately started in with their protests and straight-out objections to Lydia’s dinner ‘invitation’, he’s been silently contemplating.
“Say you go to this dinner…”
“She’s not,” Logan and Grayson immediately interject at the same time.
Royce huffs out a breath, piercing them both with a shut the fuck up glare while I roll my eyes and give Logan’s arm around me a reassuring squeeze.
“ Hypothetically ,” Royce tries again.
“Notice I’ve conveniently been left out of this invitation,” Grayson points out after a moment.
“All the more reason why she’s not going,” Logan hisses, practically vibrating with anger despite me stroking my fingers over his arm in a bid to soothe his ruffled feathers. “It’s a ploy to get her alone.”
“Well, obviously, we wouldn’t let her go on her own,” Royce states, circling back to his train of thought.
“No,” Grayson agrees with a sharp nod of his head. “ Hypothetically , I’d go with her. That makes the most sense. I can say we ran into each other on campus, and Riley mentioned the dinner, assuming I’d been invited too. She asked for a ride since she doesn’t have a car. It would be completely reasonable.” Pinning me in place with his eyes, Grayson, for whatever reason, feels the need to emphasize, “I’d be coming with you.”
Did he genuinely think I’d contest him being there? I’d assumed one of them would be, and Grayson is the obvious choice. Besides, I’d rather walk over hot coals than enter their house alone. Dinner at a public restaurant was one thing. Sitting across from him at that table drove me to the brink of what I could handle. A private meal—or ambush, or whatever the hell this actually is—is in another realm altogether. I’ll do whatever it takes to find my daughter, but putting myself in a position of danger would just be reckless and stupid—which is exactly what going to their house alone would be: Dangerous.
“Actually,” Royce hedges, “I was thinking one of us should go.” His finger flicks back and forth between him and Logan. At the looks of shock his statement incites, he flashes me an apologetic look before he explains, “We all know Lydia isn’t going to give up shit. She’s extended this invite on Bertram’s orders.”
“Fuck, of course!” Grayson whirls, his expression haunted as his hand pulls on the ends of his hair until they stand upright.
“If they expect anyone to show up,” Royce continues with a carefully blank expression, “It’ll be Grayson, but they won’t be expecting either of us. They won’t be expecting a boyfriend. It could throw enough of a spanner into whatever fucked up plan Bertram is concocting.” He lifts his shoulder in a casual gesture. “And while we’re there, it can do no harm to push Lydia.” His tone is unconvincing as he says, “Who knows, maybe she’ll say something—give us a clue.”
He doesn’t believe she will. Hell, I don’t believe she will, but all I hear is her promising to tell me where my daughter is if I do come, and despite knowing it will entail sitting across the table from him again, I have to go. For the slight chance my mother might actually do the decent thing. For the sliver of hope that she’ll slip up. Because I’ll do anything and everything it takes to get my daughter back—including believing in the impossible.
“It’s the perfect way to make them realize Riley isn’t as alone as they think she is,” Logan muses. “That she’s got support. Someone who would care if something were to happen.”
Royce nods. “Exactly. I doubt it will be enough to make Bertram set aside whatever notions he has, but it would give us some breathing space where we don’t have to worry about him on top of finding Aurora.”
“It’s not a terrible idea,” Grayson admits, tapping his fingers against the island marble as he mulls it over.
“It’ll certainly piss off Bertram,” Logan states, his bubbling anger giving way to a mischievous smirk as he more than likely pictures Bertram’s face when he opens the door to find a boyfriend’s arm slung over my shoulder.
“You can’t go,” I point out, arching a brow at Royce. “Lydia knows who you are.”
“I mean, that would be pretty fucking hilarious.” Logan chuckles. “I’d love to see that bitch’s face if you showed up tucked beneath Royce’s arm.”
“I had considered that myself,” Royce states. The slight uptilt of his lips is the only hint of his amusement. “It could put the pressure on Lydia that we need. Cause her to panic.” He wipes a hand over the scruff of his beard, thinking. “However, this dinner is about your dad.” He gestures to Grayson. “He’s deliberately creating scenarios that put him and Riley together, which will only escalate the longer he doesn’t get what he wants.” I full body shiver, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Logan whose firm palms rub up and down my arms. Royce pierces Grayson and Logan with his steely gaze. “We need to make it clear to him that it’s not going to be as easy as he thinks to get to Riley.”
“Okay, and how do we do that?” I ask, not quite catching his drift.
He lifts his chin to Logan. “You take Logan as your boyfriend. Act all lovey-dovey. Show them that you’re in love.”
“And I inadvertently make it clear to Bertram that Riley is mine ,” Logan smirks.
“Ours,” Grayson immediately interjects, earning a side glower from me. Yeah, I’m not touching that. I should probably just be grateful he has upgraded from mine , although I’m not entirely sure how I feel about being all of theirs. Of including Grayson in ours. However, Grayson’s insistence on our non-existent relationship is truly the least of my problems.
“We show Bertram that there are obstacles in his way he hadn’t anticipated. That it won’t be as simple as him manipulating Lydia or whatever the hell he’s doing with her to get to Riley,” Royce spells out.
“I dunno,” Grayson sighs, scraping a hand up the back of his head. “That still means Riley is going into my father’s house. I don’t like it.”
“You don’t have to like it,” I state, pinning him with a look before swiveling my focus to Royce. “I’ll do it. It’s time I confronted Lydia—that she knows I know . Besides, I’m on board with anything that puts roadblocks between me and Bertram.” Grayson snarls in disgust, but I ignore him as I twist my head to look at Logan. “Assuming you’re okay coming with me?”
“Shortcake, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.” Logan kisses the tip of my nose, squeezing his arms tighter around my waist. He grins down at me. “Is it fucked up that I’m kinda looking forward to it?”
My lips quirk in amusement, Logan’s teasing smoothing out the jagged edges of my anxiety at this possibly insane plan. “No,” I assure. At the same time, Grayson hisses, “Yes.”
“You’re there to protect her,” he snarls, glaring at Logan like he’s lost his mind. “Not to get your rocks off at pissing off my dad.”
Logan rolls his eyes at him. “Yeah, I’m aware.” He grins savagely, every bit the husky he plays on the ice. The split lip and bruise forming around his eye only add a dangerous edge to his demeanor. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun while I’m at it.”
The guys bicker back and forth for a bit longer before Royce and Logan leave the kitchen, and the conversation moves on to other things.
“Riley,” Grayson calls when I move to follow after them. Stopping, I turn to face him. He’s standing in the same spot he has been all morning, hands shoved in the pockets of his slacks and stern, angry gaze on mine.
“Grayson,” I respond in the same tone when he doesn’t speak.
His face is pulled tight as he stares at me, and I can see the thoughts churning behind his eyes.
“I don’t like this.”
“You’ve already said that.” Standing to my full height, I cross my arms over my chest and lift my chin.
His gaze drops over me, noticing my defensive stance as his nostrils flare. All of a sudden, he’s striding toward me, eating up the space between us with his long legs until I’m forced to either back away or hold my ground. Refusing to be cowered by the likes of Grayson, I plant my feet and glare into his face as he towers over me.
Locked in a silent stand-off, the anger and frustration roll off of him in waves. “I hate the idea of you and him being in the same room,” he finally spits out between gritted teeth.
Acting as unaffected as I can when I’m this close to a seething Grayson, I keep my voice bland as I retort, “I don’t exactly love it either.”
“The possibility that he could touch you…” He continues as though he doesn’t hear me.
“Touch what’s yours, you mean?” My retort has more attitude than the situation warrants, but fuck it. I’m strung out and exhausted, and perhaps I need to vent some of this nervous energy that’s constantly buzzing through me. Who better to unleash this bubbling mess of emotions onto than Grayson? After everything he’s put me through… the bullshit he still continues to pull…
The vein in his jaw pulses as he whips out a hand, wrapping his long fingers around my throat and dragging me against his hard body as he lowers his face to mine until our breaths tangle in the minuscule amount of space between our lips.
“You are mine,” he snarls, practically vibrating with anger. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not. You. Are. Mine, Riley.” His fingers flex around my throat, reflecting the inner turmoil threatening to tear him apart as his eyes bore into mine, slicing through muscle until he’s staring right into my soul. “I won’t let him destroy someone else I care about. Won’t let him kill another woman I love.”
My lips part in a silent O, my brain struggling to make sense of what he just said as I stare into his eyes, searching for what, I’m not even sure. Confirmation that he speaks the truth? Something that will dispute his feelings?
The problem is Grayson is so accustomed to being on guard that I can’t get a read on anything beyond the resounding resentment that has been flooding his system since Aurora went missing and his dad was released.
Pressing my hand flat against his abdomen, I apply pressure until he loosens his hold around my throat and takes a half step back. Instead of letting my hand fall away, I keep it in place, not pushing him away but simply maintaining the contact, unwilling to sever it.
“I’m sorry for what he did to your mom,” I say, my voice soft with sympathy, “but I have no intention of letting Bertram destroy me. I already survived him once, and this time, I have a hell of a lot more to live for. To fight for. He didn’t break me when I was fifteen, and he’s sure as hell not going to now.” My eyes scan his, and I bite the inside of my cheek as I debate my next words. “I’ve already fought my way back from the darkness once. I have no intention of ever going back there. While I understand your concern, I’m not your mom, Grayson, and you can’t expect me to sit at home while my daughter is out there somewhere and the likes of Bertram are threatening the life I’ve worked my ass off to build. I’m a survivor. It’s all I know how to do.” I search his gaze. “I won’t allow your fear to chain me.”