Oh, boy. A chill skated down her spine. “Who is he, Riddick?”
“He’s my father.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ken—he’d never been able to think of the old man as Dad—hadn’t changed too much over the years, Riddick noticed. He looked like the same emotionless piece of shit who’d dumped Riddick off with CPS when he was a kid.
Not that it mattered at this point. Given what he’d just seen, he’d probably been better off with CPS than he would’ve been with this crazy bastard.
“Oh my God,” Harper whispered, tightening her grip on his arm. “He’s coming up here.”
Great. The only person in the world he cared to shield from the fallout of his fucked-up childhood was about to have a front-row seat for what was sure to be the most dysfunctional family reunion in history.
“I fucking hate Vegas,” he muttered.
“We’re never coming back,” she promised solemnly.
His father took the bleachers two at a time until he stood just below them and knelt, elbows resting on his knees. “Gotta say, son, I never thought I’d see you again. Especially not here.”
“Small world,” he answered dryly.
His black eyes shifted to Harper. “And who’s this pretty lady?”
Harper stiffened beside him and Riddick said, “She’s none of your concern.”
He chuckled, his gaze never leaving Harper. “He always was a sensitive little thing. If I hadn’t put him in the system, he probably would’ve grown up to be some kind of Nancy-boy fruitcake. He should thank me, really.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m sure your ‘Father of the Year’ award was just lost in the mail.”
Surprise registered on his father’s face—-only Harper could surprise a sociopath, for God’s sake—for a split second before his cold grin returned. “Feisty,” he said. “I like feisty.”
Her brows flatlined. “That’s what they all say before I introduce their balls to their throats.”
Riddick interrupted whatever reply his father might have made by asking, “What do you want?”
Ken put a hand to his chest as if wounded. “Can’t a father say hello to his son without some kind of sinister motive?”
“No,” Riddick and Harper answered in stereo.
He looked terribly pleased with himself. “You can thank me for that mistrust. I’m sure it’s served you well in life. And with your mother, you would’ve grown into a coddled pussy instead of the fighter you are today. Thank God I was able to help you with that little life lesson.”
Harper made a move to stand up and Riddick yanked her back down, grabbing both her wrists in one hand. Knowing Harper, he suspected she had been ready to pummel his father before he even opened his mouth. Now, it was most likely all she could do to keep from killing him. And he loved that about her.
But the bastard really wasn’t worth it.
Riddick was surprised to find he didn’t really care what his father said now or had done in the past. He didn’t need him and never really had, he supposed. His words had no more effect on him than any other stranger’s would.
“Fighters aren’t really supposed to talk outside the Arena,” Harper said, her voice tight. “You could both be disqualified.”
Both houses were crazy paranoid, fearing collusion between fighters, so disqualified was really just a gentle euphemism for killed.
Which made him wonder: why was the old man willing to risk death to talk to him?
“I’ll ask one more time what you want,” Riddick said. “Then, we’re leaving.”
Ken sighed. “We need to talk about our fight. Somewhere else.” His gaze flicked to Harper, then back to Riddick. “Alone.”
“The fuck you will,” Harper said through clenched teeth. “Why would he go anywhere with you?”
He ignored her. “Meet me in the bar at your hotel in two hours.”
Riddick barely suppressed a grunt. “We’ll have our chance to talk in the Arena. Until then, you don’t have anything I care to hear.”
Ken cocked his head to one side. “You don’t want to hear about your mother? About how she really died?”
“Cancer’s not especially mysterious,” Riddick said. “And you can spare me the details of that.”
“You were always a gullible little fuck,” Ken said with a shake of his head. “Sad, really. I never said your mother had cancer. I said mothers who go into the hospital with cancer don’t always come home.”
Harper sucked in a little gasp, and Riddick closed his eyes for a moment. Wow, that was low even for a bastard like his father.
After a few deep breaths, he said as calmly as he could muster, “I haven’t seen you since I was a kid, and when I do, we’re scheduled to beat the fuck out of each other in an illegal cage match run by the supernatural mafia—and it’s at this point that you mention my mother didn’t really die of cancer?” He raised his hands in a what-the-hell gesture. “Anything seem fucked up about any of that to you?”
“It does to me,” Harper mumbled.
Ken stood up straight and gave them a smug smile. “I’ll see you,” he said to Riddick pointedly, “in two hours.”
After he’d sauntered away as if he hadn’t just turned Riddick’s world on its axis, Harper turned to him with sympathetic eyes. “I knew your childhood was messed up. I guess I never really understood just how messed up it was. I’m so sorry.”
He blew out a sharp breath and raked his fingers through his hair. “Don’t be. It’s all in the past. The fact is that my mother’s dead. It doesn’t really matter how it happened.”
She nodded. “So, you’re not going to meet him?”
“Oh, I’m definitely going to meet him.”
A furrow creased her smooth brow. “Why? You just said it didn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter. But are we really supposed to believe that he’s risking disqualification to talk to me about my mother, after all these years?” He shook his head. “No way. He wants something else from me, and we need to know what that is before we set foot into the Arena.”
Harper’s nose scrunched up like it always did when she was irritated. “I don’t like it. At least let me come with you.”
Over his dead body. “The less you’re around him, the better. Plus, he’s not likely to say much if we both show up.”
She grumbled something under her breath that he didn’t quite catch, but she shook her head when he asked about it. That usually meant she was plotting something. And when Harper Hall was plotting something? Well, shit was known to go off the rails in a big way.
“I mean it, Harper,” he said, injecting as much sternness into his words as possible. “I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
Over the years, there were men who’d pissed their pants when he gave them his stern voice and the sharp look that went along with it. Harper merely blinked at him, looking completely guileless.
“Of course,” she said innocently. “You’re in charge.”
That’s when he realized he was fucked. And apparently, his stern look and voice just weren’t what they used to be.
It really just wasn’t his day.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harper adjusted her wig and slumped down a little further into the rental car’s driver’s seat. She glanced at her watch. Riddick’s father was due to show up in just a few minutes.
“Wanna tell me again what we’re doin’, Harpy?”
She glared over at Romeo, who looked absolutely ridiculous, scrunched down next to her in the passenger seat, wearing a ball cap and sunglasses. Nothing conspicuous about a dude wearing sunglasses three hours after dark, no siree.
“We’re doing surveillance,” she answered.
“And who, pray tell, are we surveilling?”
“Riddick.”
Romeo rubbed the stubble on his chin. “Huh. Never took him for a guy who’d step out on you. I figured with his disposition, his options would be limited.”
Harper smack
ed him on the bicep with the back of her hand. “He’s not cheating on me, dumbass. He’s meeting with the final fighter—you know, the guy who kicked your ass?”
“Why?”
She sighed. Forestalling the barrage of questions he’d surely have after she answered his first, she gave him a brief overview of their meeting with Ken. When she was done, Romeo blinked at her owlishly.
“Shit,” he muttered. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, that was pretty much what I thought, too.”
“So,” Romeo began, scrubbing a hand over his face, “that guy was Riddick’s father?”
She raised a brow at him. “Did I stutter?”
He just shook his head. “I knew there was something kinda weirdly familiar about that guy, you know?”
“Yes, your intuitive powers are impressive,” she deadpanned.
As usual, he ignored her sarcasm. “That doesn’t explain why you’re wearing a wig that makes you look like Cher in Moonstruck, and why we’re sitting out here, if the meeting is in there.”
She held up her receiver, which she’d hooked into her phone. “I’m going to listen in on their conversation.”
“He agreed to wear a wire?” he asked, incredulous. “How’d you talk him into that?” Then he cringed. “Ugh. Never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.”
Harper was a little embarrassed to admit, “He didn’t agree. I sort of…planted it on him when he was on his way out the door.”
Romeo sat up straighter. “Where’d you put the transmitter?”
“In his jacket. Inside breast pocket.”
“Impressive. And the receiver?”
She held up her phone. “Mischa rigged it for me about a month ago. I bugged and tailed the husband of a client once. She thought the guy was one of those furries.”
When he looked confused, she added, “People who dress up like animals and take sexual pleasure from it.”
He looked appalled. “Shit, the world is one fucked-up place.”
Well, if that grossed him out, maybe she’d introduce him to My Strange Addiction a little later.
She shrugged. “I say to each his own. Regardless, the phone receiver came in handy. I didn’t have to get too close to him and the chick in the kangaroo suit he was dry-humping.”
He shuddered and repeated, “Shit. Fuck.”
“Yep.”
After a brief pause, he said, “You did a good job with the business, kid. I’m proud of you.”
She jerked back in surprise at the sincerity in his tone. Her relationship with Romeo had never been about compliments and gratitude. It had always been about necessity and parallel crappy circumstances.
But he’d mentored her, taught her everything she knew about being a PI. And even though he’d always had more than his fair share of issues that made him a damn-near impossible partner, she knew she owed the guy, at least on some miniscule level. She loved her job—most of the time. She’d probably be ringing up orders at the Dog N’Suds if not for him.
So, damned if it didn’t make her eyes well up and her heart swell to hear that he was proud of her.
Not that she’d ever let him know that. The asshat.
“Don’t kiss up to me now, you douchebag,” she said, swiping impatiently at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m not forgiving you for injecting me with poison just because you tossed me an offhanded compliment.”
He grinned. “You’ve already forgiven me.”
She snorted. “Right.”
“Got something in your eye, darlin’?” he asked, his voice entirely too smug.
“Fuck you,” she said with a sniffle.
He chuckled, then straightened in his seat. “There he is.”
Sure enough, she thought, following his gaze.
“Let the games begin,” she muttered.
Riddick sat with his back against the wall in the far corner of the bar. He was watching the door, but even if he hadn’t been, he would’ve known when his father walked in.
The air in the room shifted, became thicker. People started clearing out. They probably didn’t even realize why they were so suddenly ready to leave. But Riddick knew.
No one wanted to be caught between two predators.
Riddick downed his beer and raised his eyes as Ken dropped into the chair on the opposite side of his table.
“Glad you decided to wise up and meet me, son.”
“I’m not your son.” Riddick tipped his empty bottle to the waitress, who hurried over with a new one, then scurried away just as quickly. “Just say what you came to say.”
Ken eyed him speculatively. “I’ve been watching your fights.”
“Aw, I’m flattered.”
“Did you always have that smart mouth, or did you pick that up from your little girlfriend?”
Riddick leaned forward, eyeing Ken steadily. “You don’t even get to think about her. Do you understand?”
His mouth quirked up. “I believe I do. It’s just as well. I don’t have any interest in mouthy chicks.”
He briefly entertained the idea of slamming Ken’s head into the table, but quickly dismissed it. A public brawl would definitely get the mob bosses’ attention and ensure their disqualification.
A pity, that.
“So,” Ken went on, “your fights have been lasting way longer than they should.”
He raised a brow. “Dear old dad offering fighting tips to his boy? Seems a little out of character for you.”
Ken’s eyes darkened for a moment before slipping back into his usual bored, emotionless expression. “I’m not offering you shit. I’m curious why you didn’t drop those bums in the first ten seconds of every fight.”
“Making it more interesting for the crowd?” He shrugged. “Fuck, who cares?”
Ken snagged Riddick’s beer and took a deep swallow. “Not you. I’ve seen you. You don’t give a fuck about the audience. The only explanation is that you’re pulling your punches.” He leaned forward. “You’re still just a scared little boy, aren’t you? Scared of what you can do. Scared of your gifts—the gifts I gave you.”
“Gifts?” Riddick snorted.
He thought for a moment. What would Harper say at this moment? It didn’t take long before he came up with the exact statement he was sure she’d make. “I hope you kept the receipt, because your gifts suck ass.”
Ken’s face flushed and irritation flashed in his eyes. Yep, Riddick thought, he’d definitely said what Harper would’ve said. Most people got that very same look on their faces when Harper hit them with her unique sense of humor and way with words.
But, true to form, Ken’s flash of emotion didn’t last long. “If you pull your punches with me, you won’t walk out of the Arena. You have to know that.”
He knew he’d been pulling his punches, not wanting to kill his opponents. It was also no surprise to him that if he did that with his father, he’d die. But still, in the spirit of doing what Harper would do, he feigned a look of wide-eyed innocence. “So, touching family time is over so soon, Daddy?”
Ken sighed. “I can see you’re going to make this difficult, so I’ll just be straight with you.”
“That would be a refreshing change,” he deadpanned.
“My boss has seen you fight. For some reason, despite you fighting like a goddamn girl, he’s impressed. Wants you to fight with us.”
“Not interested. You’ll be my last fight in the Arena.”
“Don’t be so short-sighted. Since you don’t owe him anything, he’s willing to pay. Huge.”
Riddick cocked his head to the side. “And why are you telling me this and not him?”
“He wanted me to gauge your interest.”
Yeah, that was a total lie. He’d learned a lot about reading body language from Harper, who noticed those kinds of things when people lied to her after she’d had a vision about them. Ken’s eyes had shifted away from him for a split second, and Riddick could hear that his breathing had accelerated—only a little bit, and only for a mom
ent, but it had still happened.
“I met the Vrykolakas mob boss. And if the Lykoi boss is anything like him, he’s not the type to gauge anyone’s anything.” He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “So really, why are you here? What’s in it for you?”
For the first time in their acquaintance-—because truly, they weren’t much more than distant acquaintances-—his father actually looked a little bit proud of him. Just the thought made him nauseous.
“You’re right,” Ken said. “If you agree to fight for the Lykoi—and throw the fight tomorrow night-—my debt is cleared.”
Ah. Now it all made sense. And it made his answer even easier. “It might surprise you to learn that I don’t really give a fuck about your debt—or helping you clear it.”
“Yeah, I figured. But I also figured a sad little foster- care kid like you would want to know more about his family.”
Riddick lifted his palms in a what-the-hell gesture. “What family, man? You certainly don’t count, and Mom’s dead. What’s there to know?”
Ken studied him, narrow-eyed. “Well, I already mentioned that your mom didn’t die of cancer. Aren’t you at all curious what she really died of?”
He was, but he couldn’t trust anything this bastard said, so he shrugged. “Dead’s dead. Don’t see that it makes much difference.”
“Oh, but it does. Especially when she died in childbirth.”
Riddick felt his blood pressure spike at the implications of that statement. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ken leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “How much do you know about your bloodline, son?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Did he just say that Riddick had a brother or sister?”
Harper shushed Romeo, who had leaned close to her to listen to the conversation being transmitted through her phone. Her heart pounded. Jesus, could it be true? Some other poor kid from this messed-up family might be out there right now? Maybe as alone as Riddick was before he met her?
“You know,” Ken said, “the term ‘natural’ is completely full of shit. There’s nothing natural about the way we came into being. When you think about it, we’re about as natural as Spam.” He chuckled at his own lame joke.
Semi-Human (Harper Hall Investigations Book 2) Page 13