Riven Knight

by Devney Perry

  I buckled my seat belt. “I’m ready to go home.”

  “To see your mom?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’ll call later and make our excuses. We’ll come back to see her another day. Right now, I just want to go home. With you.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I took one last look at Kathy and Timothy. They were walking, arm in arm, toward the house. I committed their smiles to memory, then turned to Genevieve.

  She glowed. If my heart left her breathless, then hers gave me a reason to breathe. Did she know how much she meant to me?

  No. Because I hadn’t told her.

  “I don’t want to be fake married anymore.”

  She flinched. “Oh.”

  “How about you wear that ring for real?”

  Her eyebrows came together. “I don’t—what?”

  “I don’t deserve you.”

  “Isaiah—”

  “Let me finish.”

  She clamped her mouth shut and nodded.

  “I don’t deserve you, V, but I can’t give you up.” If she wanted to go, I wouldn’t stand in her way. But if she left, I’d never be the same again.

  Genevieve’s eyes flooded. “I don’t want to give you up either.”

  A smile spread across my face—it only made her cry harder. “So you’ll stay my wife?”

  She sniffled, swiping at the tears on her cheeks. Then she leaned over, stretching to brush a kiss to my lips. “Yes.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Genevieve

  “I want to buy you a better ring.”

  “Seems like a waste of money since I won’t wear it.”

  Isaiah grumbled. “V—”

  “This is my ring.” I wiggled my finger. “I don’t want a different one.”

  He muttered something else under his breath and went back to the laptop on the table. He’d been searching for an apartment in Missoula for over an hour while I’d been packing.

  Three months had passed since our trip to Bozeman—since Isaiah and I had become genuinely married. It hadn’t happened overnight, but in those three months, the two of us had begun to find our peace.

  Together.

  Our life wasn’t exciting. Isaiah and I worked during the day and spent our evenings in the apartment. An adventure for us was going out to eat on a Saturday night.

  There were nights when he woke up from a horrific dream. There were days when I cried over the loss of my parents. But we leaned on one another. We pooled our strength. After all, that was how we’d survived the past year.

  And now it was time for a change.

  After a long discussion, we had decided to leave Clifton Forge.

  I’d spent a solid month studying for the LSAT exam. Thankfully, the time I’d spent studying in Denver hadn’t been a waste and the information had flooded back. I’d taken the test and passed and was now a future student at the one and only law school in Montana.

  We were moving in two weeks, just in time to arrive in Missoula before classes started.

  “Come take a look at this one.” Isaiah waved me over to the laptop.

  I stood from the box I’d just taped shut and walked to the table, bending over his shoulder to scan the specs and photos for the two-bedroom apartment. “It’s a little more than we budgeted, but it’s a lot nicer than anything else we’ve found.”

  “I’ll give them a call. Maybe if we commit to a one-year lease, they’ll cut the rent by fifty bucks.”

  My stomach did a somersault. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  He looked up at me, his gaze softening. “Where you go, I go.”

  “Okay.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, then went back to my packing.

  Today, I was trying to put away everything I wouldn’t need immediately. Dash wasn’t in a hurry to rent this place out after we left, but I didn’t want our stuff lying around. We’d leave most of the boxes here until we could get them all to Missoula.

  I glanced around the room, taking in the space that had become my safe haven. “I’ll miss it here.”

  Isaiah stood and padded over, wrapping his arms around me from behind. Then he bent to whisper in my ear, “Me too.”

  “I didn’t think I’d love it.” Not just the apartment, but this town. Clifton Forge was home. Returning to Denver was a long-lost notion.

  “We’ll come back,” he promised.

  “Yes, we will.”

  Jim had encouraged me to study for my LSAT exam. He’d been the one to push me to finally make it happen. Jim and Isaiah had been the co-captains of my personal cheerleading squad.

  Jim had insisted I take time at work to study, helping if I had a question. I think he’d been more excited to get my score than me. Waiting those three weeks had been nerve-racking for us both. But he hadn’t been at all surprised that I’d scored well. Neither had Isaiah.

  I’d applied to law school and been quickly accepted. The day we’d gotten the email, Isaiah had begun looking for jobs.

  The only downside to us moving was that he’d be leaving the garage.

  Over the past three months, he’d become more and more involved in the custom car remodels. He loved it, working alongside the guys and making something old new again. He loved the art of it.

  Some of that artistic flair that Kaine had for his furniture pieces, Isaiah had for cars. He’d pick me up from a long day of work energized, not tired. He’d wear a small smile on his face.

  That smile was the best part of my day.

  The best part of my night was falling asleep by his side.

  “I better finish up a couple of these boxes.” I sighed. “Bryce mentioned she was going to come over today with the paper. I doubt I’ll be productive after that.”

  Isaiah held me tighter. “I’m glad you gave her the okay for the piece.”

  “It was time.”

  Today, Bryce had published the memorial article for Mom in the Sunday edition of the Clifton Forge Tribune. A year in the making, it was something I’d finally given her the green light to print.

  My stomach did another somersault followed by a cartwheel. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. I’ve read it already.”

  “It’s an end. It’s okay to be anxious about it.”

  The tiny lump in my throat that had been there all morning was slowly growing bigger. “I just wish . . .” So many things.

  I wished there wasn’t a need for a memorial article in the first place. I wished there weren’t such things as Tin Gypsies or Arrowhead Warriors. I wished that, instead of packing this morning, I was sitting at the diner eating breakfast with Draven—Dad. I still hadn’t gotten used to calling him Dad, even in my head.

  I wished for all that and that I still would have found Isaiah. I liked to think that maybe the universe would have put us on colliding paths no matter what, and we would have found one another eventually.

  It didn’t sit well in my stomach that we were leaving Clifton Forge while Mom’s killer and our kidnapper was still at large. But there was nothing to be done but move on with our lives.

  We didn’t have answers.

  And I doubted we ever would.

  “What can I help with?” Isaiah asked, letting me go.

  “Nothing. I’m just packing up some clothes I won’t need.” The majority of my dress clothes would be in storage until it was time to work again.

  With the money I’d saved from the sale of my condo in Denver, Isaiah and I would have enough money to live on through law school. He’d find a job, hopefully, and his paycheck would cover groceries. My savings account combined with what he’d saved working for Dash would cover rent. If I had to, I’d get a part-time job at a coffee shop or something, but we were planning that at least for the first year, I’d focus on school alone.

  “I’m going to see if anything new popped up on the job service.”

  “Okay, baby.” I tipped up my chin, requesting a kiss.

  Isaiah rarely denied me. His lips brushed mine and a familiar tingle ran
down my spine. I pressed in to deepen it, but right as his tongue slid past my lower lip, a car door slammed outside.

  Bryce was here.

  I frowned, sinking to my heels, then passed Isaiah to open the door.

  “Hey,” Bryce said, a newspaper in her hand as she started up the stairs. Her dad, Lane, waved to me from his seat in the car.

  She still didn’t go many places alone. Neither did I.

  “Hi.” I hugged Bryce as she reached the landing, then led her inside. We sat on the couch and she handed over the paper. Mom’s smile greeted me on the front page. I got lost in that smile. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring the picture and the words.

  “Oh, Genevieve.” Bryce put her arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” I blinked my eyes clear. “I just miss her.”

  The anger I’d had at Mom was a memory. Time and love had washed away my resentment.

  Maybe because I’d fallen in love with Isaiah, I understood how Mom must have felt about Draven. She’d loved him. She’d made a mistake. And she’d done her best to make amends. I liked to think that if she hadn’t been killed, she would have told me about him one day.

  I scanned the article, reading words I’d read before. Bryce had emailed the draft to me last week. Something about seeing them in black and white on pale gray paper made them sink in deeper than they had on a computer screen. Holding the article, seeing Mom’s chocolate chip cookie recipe on the bottom of the page, made it all too real.

  Mom was gone. She’d been gone for over a year.

  I’d hold on to things like this paper, to the photos I’d collected, so I’d never forget the loving, bright woman she’d once been.

  My fingers skimmed over the page. Love you, Mom.

  I gave Bryce a sad smile. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you for letting me write it.”

  “I’m glad it was you.”

  She hugged me closer. “Me too. I just wish we could have found the guy who did this to her.”

  “I was just thinking the same thing.”

  “Can you believe it’s been almost a year since the mountain?” she asked.

  “One year tomorrow. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday. Then others, like it never happened.”

  “Same.” Bryce clenched her fists. “I hate him. I hate that he got away.”

  “Maybe he got lost on that mountain and was eviscerated by a bear.”

  She laughed. “I’m down with that theory.”

  There’d been no hint of our kidnapper all year. Our troubles had come from the Warriors, who stayed away from Clifton Forge now. The only exceptions were the rare weekends when Jeremiah came to see Presley. In months, he’d only come to visit her a handful of times. Even then, he didn’t wear his cut around town and mostly stayed close to her place.

  “So, is this okay?” Bryce asked, nodding to the paper.

  “It’s perfect.”

  She squeezed my knee, then stood. “I’d better get home. Dash is with Xander and although he knows Dad is with me, he’ll get twitchy if I’m gone for too long.”

  Dash was as protective as ever. Given what had happened this past year, I didn’t blame him. Isaiah was the same, and rather than rebel against the hovering, I leaned into it. Bryce did too.

  With one last hug, she was out the door. Isaiah stood sentry at the top of the stairs, making sure she was in the car with Lane before he came inside.

  “You okay?” he asked, pulling me into his arms.

  “No, but I will be.” I sniffled the threat of more tears away and held him tighter. “Will you hold me for a minute?”

  “No need to ask.”

  I closed my eyes, relaxing into his embrace. Isaiah was more than I could have hoped for. My heart. My savior. “I—”

  The words lodged in my throat like they always did. Three months of real marriage, and I hadn’t found the courage to say I love you.

  There was no question I was in love with Isaiah, and I was fairly certain he loved me too. So why couldn’t I say the words? Why couldn’t I tell him? What was I waiting for?

  I opened my mouth to try again but nothing came out. So I held him tighter, soaking up this quiet moment, until it was time to break apart and get back to packing.

  Isaiah hunkered down behind the laptop to resume his job search. So far, he’d been shot down for everything he’d applied for. His criminal record was difficult to get past for most people. They didn’t know him or his good heart. All they had was a checkbox next to felon on an online application.

  He’d find something. It would take time, but he’d eventually find an employer who wasn’t concerned about his past. Dash had made some calls to a few garages in Missoula and we were hoping a glowing referral from Dash Slater would pave the way to a job where Isaiah could work for a few years.

  Until we came back.

  Dash had already promised Isaiah’s job would be waiting.

  I spent the next hour packing and organizing. It was nearly lunch and my stomach growled when another car door slammed outside. Actually, two.

  Isaiah looked over his shoulder to the door. “Was someone else coming over today?”

  “Not that I know of.” I pushed up from the floor, meeting him at the door.

  He opened it just in time for two police officers to walk up the stairs.

  My stomach dropped.

  Isaiah’s spine went rigid and he reached behind him, searching for my hand. I clutched it with all my might.

  “Afternoon,” one officer said, sliding her sunglasses off her face. The other stood down a couple of stairs, letting his partner do the talking.

  “Hi.” Isaiah’s grip was so strong it hurt. His shoulders were bunched tight. His breaths came in shallow huffs. He was about to lose it.

  “Can we help you?” I stepped next to Isaiah, forcing him over so we could both crowd the doorway.

  “Are you Genevieve Reynolds?”

  I gulped. “Yes.”

  “Ma’am, we need to ask you some questions at the police station.”

  Me? Oh my God. This wasn’t about Isaiah. It was about me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad. My heart was racing but I fought to keep my voice calm and innocent. “What’s this about?”

  “Just have some questions,” the officer answered.

  “What’s this about?” I repeated.

  “Sorry, ma’am. We can’t discuss that here. Would you please come with us?”

  Part of me wanted to object. They weren’t here with a warrant. But if I did, they’d only come back with one. Maybe cooperation was the best way to keep these questions aimed my way and not at Isaiah.

  “Am I being arrested?”

  “Not at this time.”

  Not at this time? My throat went dry. How could they know? There was no way, right? Maybe this was about Draven’s fake suicide. Maybe they suspected foul play.

  “If I come with you, may I drive myself?”

  The officer nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  I swallowed hard. “Please give me a minute.”

  I stepped inside the apartment, practically pulling Isaiah with me. When the door clicked closed, I sucked in a deep breath. My mind was whirling, and concentrating on anything was nearly impossible. I shook it off, going to the kitchen for my purse. Then I slid on the flip-flops I’d left by the front door.

  “V, don’t go.”

  “I have to. They’ll just come back if I say no.” And I would much rather keep the focus on me than Isaiah.

  “But—”

  “I won’t say anything. Trust me. It will be better to cooperate a little. Let’s find out what they want before we freak out.” Too late. I was already freaking out.

  “I don’t like this.”

  I met his panicked gaze. “I don’t either. Do you think they . . . that they know?”

  “Maybe.” His forehead furrowed. “I should go. It should be me.”

  “No.” I rushed him, wrapping my arms aro
und his body. “They want me. I’ll go and find out what’s happening. Maybe it’s about Draven. Maybe they know he didn’t really kill himself. But you can’t go. They’ll know something’s up. If I don’t go, if I refuse, that makes me look guilty.”

  He held me so tight I couldn’t breathe. Then he let me go to stalk to the door, whipping it open to see both officers there, standing at the ready to escort me to the police station.

  I cast Isaiah a glance over my shoulder, then nodded at the officers, following them down the stairs.

  Behind me, Isaiah followed in bare feet.

  God, what was happening? Why wouldn’t they tell me? It had to be something criminal. I wasn’t being arrested, but I was a person of interest. If they had some casual questions, they would have asked me at home, not invited me to the police station.

  My heart was in my throat, my pulse racing, as we stepped off the last stair and I saw their cruiser parked behind my car, blocking it in.

  The officers flanked me, walking me toward my car.

  I wasn’t being arrested but this sure felt like an arrest.

  “Wait,” Isaiah called. I twisted as he jogged over. He didn’t pay any attention to the cops as he took my face in his hands and kissed me, slow and soft. “I love you.”

  And there it was. The moment I’d most needed to hear those words and he’d delivered. “I love you too.”

  He dropped his forehead to mine.

  “Call Jim,” I whispered.

  “Okay,” he whispered back. “Stay strong.”

  To keep him safe? He didn’t have to worry. “I will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Genevieve

  “Hi, Genevieve. I’m Marcus Wagner, Clifton Forge Chief of Police.” He stepped through the interrogation room door, closing it softly behind him. Then he came to the table where I was sitting, extending his hand. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too.” I shook his hand.

  He sat in the metal chair opposite mine. The table was wide between us, big enough that I wouldn’t be able to reach across and touch him without standing. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”