F*ck Club: Riley

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F*ck Club: Riley Page 15

by Shiloh Walker


  Bree’s mouth went tight.

  She didn’t answer.

  But he didn’t need her to.

  They left the stall and found Chance leaning against a sink, her feet crossed at the ankle. The cop eyed Bree, then held out a couple of paper towels she’d dampened.

  Bree took them gratefully and wiped them over her face.

  As she did so, Chance met his eyes, a brow arched.

  Riley looked away.

  He couldn’t tell her story.

  But as soon as he had five seconds, he was going to tell her where to start looking for Marnie’s stalker.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “I can’t approach a fellow law officer and ask him if he attempted to assault a woman, based on your suspicion alone.”

  The detective who’d come with Chance was named Karen Carmichael. She was pretty and curvy, with an hourglass figure and soft brown eyes, just a few shades darker than her warm brown skin. Her hair was thick and full, framing her heart-shaped face in dense curls. She looked sweet and cheerful, like somebody who should be singing in a church choir or baking cookies for the PTO.

  But as she sat back in the chair in the small family waiting room in the ER, she gave him a look that was hard as nails—a look that was all cop.

  “You don’t have to,” Riley pointed out. “But don’t you think you’ve got reason to ask him why in the hell he was trying to get a so-called statement from a woman who lives in a precinct almost an hour away from his?”

  She firmed out her mouth until her lips were a thin, nearly bloodless line, then shifted her gaze to Chance. “You got me into this mess,” she said, jabbing a finger, the nail painted the color of blue bonnets, at the other cop. “You, damn it. I ought to kick your ass.”

  “Who else was I going to call?”

  Carmichael’s face softened, but only a little.

  “Where’s the other woman?” she asked, giving him a narrow, suspicious look.

  Bree had disappeared into the bathroom again and wouldn’t come out.

  He gave Carmichael a blank look.

  He might have been better off giving her an answer.

  She got up, and after sliding them an austere look, she slipped out of the waiting room.

  “Wait a minute!” He got up to trail after her, but she was already striding into the women’s restroom.

  He hissed out a breath but before he could even make up his mind if he should cross that line or not, Chance cut in front of him. “Watch it, Steele,” she said softly. “Not a good idea.”

  “I don’t want her being badgered.”

  “Karen is with the violent crimes division. If anybody can handle talking to her about this, it’s her. She’s worked with rape victims before.”

  He closed his eyes.

  “You think I couldn’t figure it out? Come on, Steele. I’m a cop for a reason. And…” She blew out a breath. “In a way, it makes a weird sort of sense. You two were on the football team together. The football team, the basketball team. He was always playing second fiddle to you, wasn’t he? They didn’t offer him a scholarship, either. Had to choose a smaller, cheaper school closer to home.”

  “Enough.” Riley had already been wondering about it. Yeah, he and Kyle had played ball together. They’d run track together. They’d been friends. Had gone out on double dates even. He’d suspected, from time to time, that Kyle had once had a thing for Bree, but Riley hadn’t ever seen him move on her, so he hadn’t worried about it.

  “You’re thinking the same thing.”

  He spun away, shoving his hands through his hair.

  The door cracked open.

  Bree slid out, Karen Carmichael at her back. She looked at him nervously, licking her lips, then glanced down the hall toward where Marnie was finally resting.

  “I…um…I think we should talk.”

  He nodded slowly, regretting it even as he accepted the fact.

  It is time, he thought. Time to get it all over and done.

  But as they were walking down the hall back toward the waiting room, his phone rang.

  He glanced at it, then hit reject. He could talk to Shame later.

  The tone for a message came through, followed by another, and another, and another.

  He frowned, slowing to a stop as he flicked his thumb across the screen.

  Shame wouldn’t be sending him endless message unless…

  “Oh, fuck,” he whispered, something sick spreading through him.

  “What’s wrong?” Bree turned to look at him, her eyes swollen, almost bruised looking.

  He swallowed and shook his head. “He broke into the apartment. He…he found Con and Toby. Tried to hurt them. Guess he was looking for you. Con stopped him, but he beat the shit out of him. Shame showed up. Shit, oh, shit.” He gave her a blind look. “I’ve got to go.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  He couldn’t think of anything to say.

  The two cops approached, obviously aware something was wrong and as he tried to shoulder around them, they stopped him.

  “Get out of my way,” he said, his voice nearly soundless.

  “What’s wrong?” Chance asked.

  He told them in short, broken sentences that felt like bits of glass tearing out of his throat.

  Carmichael and Chance shared a telling look, then Carmichael reached into her pocket. “Come on. We’ll give you a ride.”

  Riley hesitated.

  “You want to get there fast or not?”

  * * * * *

  Fast was relative.

  When they got there, Con had already been taken to the hospital, as had one Officer Kyle Mobley.

  Cops abounded and Shame was in the back of a police cruiser, staring stonily ahead.

  Charli was there, holding on to Toby who clung to her almost desperately.

  A cop was trying to talk to the boy, but he wouldn’t speak and when he saw his mother, he started to cry like a dam had burst inside him. Bree took him and rounded on the cop, infuriated. “What do you think you’re doing, questioning a child?”

  The cop started into a line about how the boy was the only one who’d been there when Officer Mobley first arrived—at least, the only one conscious.

  “I don’t care if he was the only one who saw Kennedy shot!” she snapped. “He’s five years old.”

  Chance stepped up, flashing her ID and offering a charming smile. “Maybe you can let the boy’s mama take him upstairs so he can calm down.”

  “Not a good idea,” Charli said, leaning in. “It looks like a war zone. Maybe take him into B&B?”

  Bree glared at the cop.

  But he didn’t have much choice, seeing as how Toby was a minor and Bree was pissed.

  “We will need to speak to him.”

  Bree just stared him down, turned and strode away.

  José had stayed after and now he opened the door for her, giving Toby a gentle look. “Maybe you’d like a milkshake, amigo. What do you think?”

  As they disappeared inside, Riley turned to the cop. “What happened to my brother?”

  “Right now, he’s at the hospital. He’s got an officer with him and once he’s discharged, he’ll be going to the police station.” The man stared at him with stony eyes.

  “Why?”

  The officer blinked.

  Clearly the question hadn’t been expected. “He attacked a police officer.”

  “Says who?” Riley demanded.

  “The officer.” Now this officer crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Riley.

  Riley noted his name—Scott Shannon. “Officer Shannon, there was no reason for Mobley to be in my house. I assume that was the officer.”

  Shannon didn’t respond.

  “Why was there a police officer in my home?” Riley fired back. “Did he have a warrant or a reason for entering?”

  “Hey, hey, hey, Steele…let’s take a deep breath, and calm down.” Chance gave him a hard look, but the expression in her eyes was sympath
etic.

  Bree had talked on the drive down. In a wooden tone that sounded all but lifeless, she’d explained.

  Kyle Mobley had raped her.

  Not just once, but several times.

  He’d broken her inside, she’d said, made her believe she was less than nothing, and that nobody would believe her.

  By the time Mobley was bored with her, she’d believed him.

  “He broke into my home, looking for her. When he found my brother and her son…” Riley was so pissed, he couldn’t think.

  “I know,” Chance said. “I know. But we have to do this right.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Once they got to the hospital, he ducked into the nearest restroom and called Winifred Halliday and his third, and last, client. He told them that if a cop by the name of Kyle Mobley showed up, they needed to call the police and he gave them the phone numbers for Chance and Carmichael.

  Then he had to explain why.

  They were horrified, understandably so.

  He’d offered his apologies.

  Freddie had told him it wasn’t necessary, he had no control over the actions of another. She would, however, be hiring a bodyguard.

  The third client, Misty Troy, slammed the phone down in his ear.

  When he exited the restroom, three female gazes turned his way and he had the damnedest feeling that both Chance and Carmichael knew what he’d done.

  And Bree was watching him with suspicion.

  He’d have to tell her.

  Soon.

  He was surprised she was there. She’d talked Toby into staying with Charli and Shame. Shame’s house was a veritable fortress, and it would practically take a tank to take Shame down. He’d been helpless before. Once he got old enough, he’d gone out of his way to make sure it would never happen again. He could probably kill Mobley with two fingers and Riley knew he wouldn’t feel bad about it at all.

  But still, after everything that had happened, she’d left her son alone to come to the hospital.

  Mobley was here.

  So was Con.

  She’d said she’d come because of Con, but he wasn’t entirely buying it.

  “Detectives Chance and Carmichael?”

  They all turned at the sound of the voice and saw a man walking toward them. He was tall and broad, built like a defensive lineman and when he caught sight of Riley, he frowned.

  Riley frowned back.

  He knew the man—the chief of police had used to volunteer at the school back in Turner Grove. It had been some time since he’d seen Chief Brock Gaskins, but neither of them had forgotten the other.

  “Chief Gaskins?” Carmichael stepped forward, offering her hand. Chance turned to Riley.

  “We asked him to come in so we could get this dealt with. Miss Sharpe is willing to…talk to Mobley. If he’d confess, it would make everything a lot tidier.”

  “Talk? Confess? No.” He shook his head, watching Bree so intently, he didn’t see Carmichael and the Bardstown chief of police step into a waiting room and shut the door. “No.”

  Bree was trembling, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

  “We have to do something,” she said, swallowing. Finally, she looked at him. “If I’d done something back then—”

  “It’s not your fault!”

  “I know that,” she said, her voice rising. “But if I had said something, this wouldn’t have happened. Or maybe it wouldn’t have. I can’t be quiet anymore and I can’t back away if there’s something I can do that might help.”

  “And how is it going to help if you go in there?” Riley demanded. “How?”

  “Because…he likes to brag. He still does it. If he comes into the store, he always picks my line and he taunts me. He won’t be able to shut up.” She stared him down. “I’m doing this, and once I’m done, you’re going to tell me what’s going on with you.”

  “I’ll tell you now if you won’t put yourself through this.”

  “I have to. There’s a woman suffering in a hospital an hour away because nobody has stopped him. She’s already talked to the cops, and has given a statement. She said he threatened to kill her if she talked. But she talked anyway. I’m not going to keep being a coward.”

  It took a while to arrange.

  The chief wasn’t pleased about what he was being asked to do.

  He called in a lawyer.

  They talked around and around in circles while Riley went to go see his brother.

  At some point, the cop was called off Con’s room.

  Apparently, between what Toby, Con and Shame had to say, it was deemed that Con had been defending himself and Toby against Mobley, who’d entered without permission, and he’d also destroyed property.

  There was no warrant, nothing to indicate he had a reason for entering. Both Chance and Carmichael were silent about Riley’s…side job. Carmichael knew. She’d asked questions, looked aghast and eventually shut her eyes and shaken her head, clearly unable to figure out how to handle the knowledge that she was talking to a male prostitute.

  Not that Riley had admitted to that, and he wasn’t going to, either.

  But Chance had given her the information she needed to come to that conclusion.

  So when she’d asked, Riley just hadn’t…denied it.

  Riley brooded over his brother’s bed, staring at Con’s face and wishing he could get his hands on Mobley. Five minutes alone with him. That was all he needed. Five minutes alone.

  “We’re ready,” Chance said from the doorway.

  He looked up.

  Both Carmichael and Chance stood there and Carmichael caught sight of Con’s face and winced. “Man, he got him good, didn’t he?”

  Con didn’t even stir. The pain meds had him completely out.

  “Toby said the man hit him with a metal stick—a baton, I figure,” Riley said woodenly.

  “He’s going to pay for it,” Chance said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

  Riley nodded and stood.

  A few minutes later, he stood outside Mobley’s room, listening as Bree asked in a shaking voice why he’d tried to hurt her son.

  “I wasn’t interested in hurting the brat. I went there for you. I can’t believe Steele took you back after you spread your legs for me.”

  His heart was about leap out of his chest, it raced so hard. He had to work to control his breathing. He had to work to control his rage.

  “I didn’t spread my legs,” Bree said. “You raped me.”

  “Oh, you wanted it. All that fighting was just to make you feel better.” Mobley’s voice was thick and nasal. Riley had been told that Con had done almost as much damage to him as the man had done to his brother. Almost. And then Shame had gotten a hold of him. “Whores like you always want it. When he’s done with you, I’ll get you again. Bet on it.”

  “Just like you went after that woman in Louisville? Marnie?”

  “Oh…” Mobley laughed. “He told you about all those sluts? The ones who pay him for sex? That boy must have an excellent dick. Are you paying him, too? Oh, no. You can’t. Lost your job, didn’t you?”

  “Shut up.” The words came out weak and broken.

  “Maybe you should take a page from Steele’s book and just spread your legs for money. I’d pay. And if you put up a good fight, I’ll pay double. What do you say?”

  “That’s enough,” the chief said, shaking his head.

  Chance stopped him. “He hasn’t admitted to breaking into the home in Louisville.”

  Bree was pushing him hard on that. “Why did you go after that woman? She called him, Kyle. He knows what you did. She’s in the hospital and she called the cops, too.”

  “They won’t believe shit she says.” He sounded bored.

  “I believe her.”

  “That’s because you’re a dumb cunt. But don’t worry, even when I’m done with her, I’ll still come back to you. You’ll always be my favorite, Brianna.”

  “You make me sick.”

  The c
hief gave Chance a short nod, then stepped forward.

  “I’m going to have to agree with the lady, Mobley.”

  An outraged shout came from the bed.

  “Stand down, Kyle! Now!”

  Riley was on his heels and caught sight of Bree backpedaling, moving fast away from the bed. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open.

  And a battered, bruised Kyle Mobley was being restrained by the chief of police.

  “That’s it, Mobley,” Gaskins said. “You’re done. You hear me? This is done.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The phone was ringing.

  Riley opened gritty eyes to stare at the ceiling.

  Bree was already sitting up on the edge of the bed, holding it to her ear.

  It was her cell phone, not his, and that alone made him worry.

  They’d gotten to the house close to three in the morning and he’d expected to have her demand to hear what was going on.

  But she hadn’t.

  She just came to him and said, “I’m tired. Let’s go to bed.”

  The past few days, every time her phone rang, it had been bad news.

  “Really?” She paused and sucked in a breath. “That’s…wow. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him, a stunned expression on her face.

  “That was the lawyer who’s been handling things with Donnie. He’s… Donnie signed a plea agreement. He’s doing six months in jail.”

  The first thing that came to mind was that he’ll be out in a month. But Bree continued. “He has to serve the full six months. He agreed to that, otherwise, they were going to take it to court and he could have gotten a lot more. And he has to go to anger-management counseling and he can’t come within three hundred yards of me once he’s out. If he does, he’ll have to serve an additional year.”

  She flung the phone down and came to him, clinging to his neck. “He can’t hurt us again.”

  “I wouldn’t have let him anyway. But he’s going to do time…and that’s good.” He kissed her temple, then buried his face in her hair.

 

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