Riven Knight

by Devney Perry

In the garage, we’d tossed around idea after idea. That had been one of them. But without evidence, we were stuck, like we’d been all year. No cop would turn against his boss if he had nothing to hang him on.

  “We’ve talked about this,” I said. “If Marcus gets word of that, we’ll never win. He’ll never talk and he’ll push even harder on the necklace.” And if he managed to put me in a prison cell, that would be the end. “He’s too smart.”

  “But if he doesn’t confess, we’re sunk.”

  I tipped my chin up, meeting his gaze. “How do you feel about Canada? We might have to make a run for it tonight.”

  He grinned. “If that’s what it’ll take for us to have a life together, I’m good with Canada.”

  “We could change our names and live way up north. We’d be like pioneers, living off the grid.”

  His thumb stroked my cheek. “As long as your last name matches mine, I’m good with that too.”

  I collapsed into him again, drawing in a deep breath of his smell and soaking in the warmth of his arms. Isaiah had a way with simple words that made me feel cherished. He made me feel special. He gave me a place to belong.

  Headlights flashed as the low rumble of an engine drifted across the night air.

  I unwrapped my arms from Isaiah as Dash’s black truck crept down the quiet street. He parked behind my car, shutting down the engine. Then Dash, Emmett and Leo climbed out. They closed the doors carefully, making sure not to slam them shut.

  All three were dressed in head-to-toe black, much like Isaiah. Dash had a gun holstered on his hip while Emmett and Leo had theirs in hand.

  Dash’s hazel gaze was cold and deadly. Even in the dark, I could see the menace and calculation behind those eyes. Tonight, he wasn’t my brother or the loving husband of my best friend. Tonight, Dash was the cruel and hard president of a motorcycle gang. And he’d brought along his brothers.

  Leo pulled his hood over his head. Emmett tucked a strand of hair beneath his beanie.

  “Ready?” Dash asked.

  No. I nodded anyway. Then I turned to Isaiah, drinking in his handsome face.

  I didn’t want to do this. I wasn’t strong enough. But for him, I’d find the courage. I’d do this for the promise of the life we’d have if we truly set ourselves free.

  “Let’s get the mic on.” Emmett pulled a small box and cord from his pocket. The box went into the back pocket of my jeans, covered by the tails of the plaid shirt he’d told me to wear. The wire was fished up my back, and the small microphone was taped into my collar.

  “Say something?” He had a receiver pressed to his ear.

  “Uh . . . hi.”

  “Good enough.” He shoved the receiver into his pocket. The red light blinked that it was recording. “Stay within eight feet. Keep him from seeing your back and you’ll be fine. Try not to rustle your hair around.”

  “I could put it up?”

  He shook his head. “Down will help hide it.”

  “Okay. Don’t play with my hair. Keep a straight face.” And lie, lie, lie.

  What the fuck am I doing? I was a paralegal, not a spy.

  “We’ll be here the whole time.” Dash put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

  “What if you can’t get in?”

  “We’ll get in.” Leo winked at me, then he and Emmett shared a grin.

  Was this fun? Because I was not having fun. Maybe their confidence would rub off on me. I could use some—a lot.

  “Okay.” I sucked in a deep breath. I can do this. “Let’s go.”

  Dash squeezed my arm. Emmett and Leo gave me a sure nod. Then Isaiah took my hand as we started down the sidewalk. We walked one block, our footsteps dull thumps on the concrete.

  “Emmett, I—”

  He wasn’t there. None of them were. I scanned the lawns in the neighborhood around us but there was no sign of them. They’d disappeared like ghosts into the night.

  “Where’d they go?” I asked Isaiah as my steps slowed.

  “They’re out there.” He tugged me forward. “Don’t worry.”

  I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to keep up with his pace. My footsteps felt off and unbalanced. There wasn’t any strength in my strides. Isaiah was basically pulling me along.

  “I can do this,” I whispered.

  “You can do this.” He gripped my hand tighter.

  We continued toward Marcus’s house. At the garage earlier, Dash and Emmett had wanted to do a drive-by to scope the place out. They’d known where Marcus lived but couldn’t remember details about the home or property.

  So we’d taken one of the old cars from the back lot at the garage, one of the few that actually ran, and crammed inside. It had smelled like rust and dirt as we’d driven across town, Dash and Emmett up front, Isaiah and me in the back. Leo had stayed with Bryce and the baby.

  We’d passed Marcus’s house once and Dash hadn’t slowed down. He and Emmett hadn’t even glanced at the front door. Meanwhile, my face had been pressed to the glass, memorizing every single thing I could about the country-blue rancher in ten seconds.

  There was a tan wooden door and a porch swing.

  As we approached it tonight, that swing was glowing from the overhead light.

  “I’ll be right there. Behind that bush.” Isaiah pointed ahead. We were four houses away.

  “Okay.”

  Three houses.

  “I love you,” he whispered.

  “I love you too.”

  Two houses.

  My heart raced.

  One house.

  Isaiah stopped, pulling his hand free of my grip before urging me forward with a gentle nudge.

  None of the guys would approach the house until I was already there. They didn’t want to risk tripping a motion light while Marcus was inside.

  Then while I was talking to Marcus at the front of the house, Dash and Leo would be breaking in through the back door. Isaiah had refused to let me out of his sight, so Dash had made the decision to hide around the side of the house.

  I gulped, taking one step after another until I was at the base of the sidewalk that led to the front door. I fisted my hands.

  I can do this.

  I’d do this for Isaiah. I’d do it for Dad. I’d do it for Mom.

  Fuck you, Marcus Wagner.

  There, standing right in front of his house, I knew I could do this. He’d stolen my parents from me. If there was a chance I could make him pay, I was taking it.

  I wanted to do this.

  I took one step and caught movement at my side. Isaiah crept onto the lawn between the chief’s house and the neighbor’s. His pace matched mine as he took care not to get too far ahead.

  As I reached the porch, he ducked behind a tall bush, completely hidden from view. The only way Marcus would see him was if he came all the way outside and halfway down the sidewalk.

  But he could see me. Isaiah was there, watching. Even from a distance, I’d lean on his strength.

  I stepped onto the porch and into the light. Then before I could doubt myself, I shoved my finger into the doorbell button.

  A moment later, a light flicked on from inside, illuminating the front bay window.

  My hands shook. Here we go.

  The lock on the door flipped and Marcus filled its frame. He was wearing the same thing he had at the station, a button-down shirt and jeans, but the ends of his shirt were untucked and wrinkled.

  “Genevieve?” He narrowed his eyes and straightened his shoulders, already putting up his guard.

  Damn it. I was so outmatched. “Hi.”

  That’s what I was leading with? Hi?

  We were fucked.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  There was no point in small talk. Dash had encouraged me to cut to the chase. We were going for surprise, after all. So I shook off my Hi and pictured Mom’s face.

  “You loved her.”

  He blinked.

  “You loved her. And you killed her becaus
e she loved Draven.”

  One step and he was outside, pulling the door closed behind him. I retreated to the edge of the single step of the porch. Like Isaiah had warned, I couldn’t let him get too close because Marcus Wagner wasn’t afraid to hit a woman.

  “What are you talking about?” he sneered, his voice hushed. His wife must be inside.

  Time for the lies.

  “After you brought me into the station today, I started thinking. Mom had told me about this man she’d been dating. Lee. I didn’t know much about him, but Mom made it seem like things were serious. You showed me that necklace and I realized I hadn’t really looked through her things since she died. It was too painful.”

  His eyes widened, barely, but I caught it. Guilty. This fucking asshole was guilty.

  This bluff was going to work. It had to work. My heart raced faster but I did my best to keep calm on the outside.

  “I went through her things today,” I said. “Her jewelry. Her notebooks. Her photos.”

  “And?”

  “Why did she call you Lee? Was it because of your wife? Did you promise to leave her for Mom?”

  Marcus pursed his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Bryce will be running a special edition of the paper tomorrow, exposing you as Mom’s boyfriend and speculating that you were the one to kill her. She’s including the photos I found of you with Mom.”

  He scoffed. “You’re lying.”

  Yes, I was.

  Ironically, our plan was to use a police tactic. I’d pretend I had evidence I didn’t have in hopes Marcus would confirm anything to prove his involvement.

  He’d basically done the same thing to me earlier today. Maybe Marcus’s curiosity would get the better of him too.

  I was counting on it, and his arrogance. After all, he’d gotten away with this for a year.

  “I guess you’ll find out tomorrow when the paperboy tosses your copy onto the sidewalk.”

  His stare hardened as he inched closer. He was getting too close, something Isaiah was no doubt cussing, but I refused to budge. I locked eyes with his and didn’t blink. I didn’t breathe. My body was a statue, one he wouldn’t be able to ignore.

  Even if this failed, even if he hauled me into jail, Bryce was going to run a story. It wouldn’t be tomorrow, but it would come as soon as she could pull it together.

  She’d do everything in her power to condemn the chief. At the very least, she’d use her newspaper to ensure he was never appointed to his position again. And she’d ensure Marcus’s wife had enough doubt in her mind to ask some uncomfortable questions about where he’d disappeared to those weekends he’d been with Mom.

  I hated that Mom had been with another married man, but I’d deal with my feelings over that later. Maybe she hadn’t known. I’d give her the benefit of the doubt.

  I focused on Marcus’s stare, on holding this murderer’s gaze. “You should have killed me when you had me on that mountain.”

  He flinched.

  Yeah, asshole. We all know it was you.

  “You don’t have any evidence.”

  “I have some,” I shot back. “And I’ll make sure it’s enough.”

  Marcus leaned forward, almost like he was going to reach for me. But then he shrank, his shoulders falling deep. In front of me, this man—who I’d once thought to be so honest and just—shriveled.

  The change caught me by surprise. I staggered back an inch, teetering on the step. What was he doing? Was this a trick? I kept both eyes on him as he dragged a hand down his mustache and retreated to the porch swing.

  “I’m tired.” He dropped to the seat, his form crumpled. I hadn’t noticed those dark circles under his eyes at the station, but now that I looked, he was worn out. Tired.

  Ironically, that was the same word Dad had used before he’d died.

  A lifetime of fighting had drained them both.

  Marcus was guilty. It was clear as day to anyone on this porch. Except I was the only person here, and what I’d gotten from him was not a confession.

  I took a step forward, making sure I was out of his grasp but close enough there’d be no missing him on the mic. “Did you love my mom?”

  He hadn’t confirmed it earlier, but I wanted to know. Maybe because a broken heart was easier to swallow as motive than Marcus seducing Mom only to get at Draven.

  “Yes,” he admitted. “I always loved her.”

  “Why’d you kill her?”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground. “I assume this is being recorded.”

  “Yes.” There was no point lying. Either he’d clam up and I’d be in the same place as I had been for a year, or he’d give up and talk.

  Give up. Please. Just give up.

  Wasn’t he tired of running? Wasn’t he tired of hiding?

  “Why?” I asked again, then held my breath as I waited for an answer. My voice dripped with desperation.

  He studied my face, much like he had at the station earlier today. “You look like her. And him.”

  Marcus’s face soured and he looked away from me.

  “This was about Draven, right?” I asked.

  “Why couldn’t she just stay away from him? She never stayed away. He didn’t want her. He didn’t love her. I did. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Mom had been obsessed with Draven. Apparently, Marcus had felt the same for her.

  “Why did she call you Lee?”

  “We were kids when we met. Teenagers. Her family moved to town and into the place next door. I’ve never seen a more beautiful girl in my life. That smile of hers—there wasn’t another like it.”

  No, there wasn’t. And he’d erased it from the earth.

  I held my tongue. I wanted to scream and hit him, to curse him for what he’d done. To strangle him until this monster was gone from the world. But it wasn’t enough. He deserved the seventh circle of hell for what he’d done—in the form of a prison cell.

  “I was younger than her,” he continued. “She’d look at me and I’d run and hide. Took me weeks to work up the courage to introduce myself. Couldn’t hardly speak when I did. Said my name so low all she caught was my middle name. But she laughed and from then on only called me Lee.”

  Marcus stared out into the dark street, a look of love and longing on his face. His wife was presumably inside, yet here he was, pining for my mother.

  Even in death.

  Had Dad known about Marcus’s feelings for Mom? Probably not. Draven had been too busy being in love with Chrissy.

  “I lost her for years. She graduated and moved away. We drifted apart. I went to the police academy and came home to work on the force. I got married and had kids. I thought of her now and then, wondered what she was up to. But I left her there, in my memory. And then . . . she was there.”

  “Where? In Clifton Forge?” I thought she hadn’t come back until the day she’d come to tell Draven about me.

  “I had a class in Bozeman. I went to dinner with some cops I knew and there she was, eating by herself in my favorite restaurant.”

  And that was when they must have reconnected and started the affair.

  “I was leaving my wife,” he whispered.

  That was what they all said, wasn’t it? I bit back the snark. Though a part of me suspected Marcus would have left his wife for Mom.

  “She didn’t tell me she was coming here. I wouldn’t have known except I saw her car and followed it to the motel.” He huffed a dry laugh. “I thought she was here to surprise me. We’d always met in Bozeman and I thought maybe she wanted to see me so she’d come to town. But no. She wasn’t here for me. She was here for Draven.”

  He spat Dad’s name, that lip curl returning. Even with the mustache, you couldn’t miss the disgust on his face.

  “She fucked him.”

  I flinched at the ice in his tone.

  “She fucked him,” he repeated, leveling his gaze on me. “She had me and she chose him.
She always chose him.”

  “So you killed her?”

  Say, yes. Admit it.

  “He killed her. He should have stayed away from her. If he had stayed away from her, she’d still be alive. I would have made her happy.”

  Maybe that was true, but we’d never know. “You framed him. Everything you did pointed to the Warriors. Why?”

  “It’s no skin off my nose if a bunch of biker thugs decide to kill each other.”

  “So let me guess, you had an old Warriors vest. The chief of police could have taken it from an evidence box without anyone noticing. Maybe you kept it on hand for years, waiting for the chance to get at Draven. And this was it. You broke into the clubhouse and stole Draven’s knife. Then you went back to the motel and waited for him to leave. I guess you got lucky it had his prints on it. Though you probably would have just falsified them if they hadn’t, huh?”

  He didn’t confirm or deny it. Even slouched in his porch swing, the chief was being careful with his confession.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “Enjoy what?” he muttered.

  “Stabbing her.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Did she know it was you? Or did you hide your face like a coward?”

  “I’m not the coward.” He surged from the seat, sending me back three feet. “I’m not the one who killed myself to avoid a prison sentence.”

  I gulped, not allowing myself to cower under his towering height. He was angry—no, furious. Was this the rage Mom had seen on her deathbed? He’d lost it then. Maybe he’d lose it now. Maybe this was the emotional opening I needed to get something, anything, out of him.

  I went for it.

  “You kidnapped me because you knew I’d find out you were Lee.”

  His voice dropped. “Like you said, I should have killed you and that fucking reporter when I had the chance.”

  God, I hoped the mic had caught that. It wasn’t a murder confession, but kidnapping and attempted murder were a close second. “Yes, you should have. But you didn’t.”

  And if he hadn’t brought me in to talk about the necklace, I never would have thought of him as Lee. Had he even planted that necklace in the cabin? Or had he kept it here this whole time?

  “You wanted Dash to kill me. Why?” That question had been the crux of the year.