His gaze lifted to mine. A bruise was rising on his jaw, purple and red, and his lip was split, smears of blood on his chin where he'd wiped it off.
"Oh," I said. I reached to touch his face, but he caught my hand.
"I'm fine," he said, and came inside, shutting the door behind him. "I'm fine now."
His lips came to mine, and I held back, thinking of his cut, trying to be gentle, but he pulled me to him, his kiss hard and hungry, the faint taste of blood on my tongue.
I laced my arms around his neck, fingers in his hair as he swung me back against the wall, hands pushing up my nightshirt, fingers hooking in my panties. Then he paused, breaking the kiss, panting slightly as he whispered, "I need you."
"Yes," I said.
--
Afterward, we were on the floor, half in the front hall, half in the kitchen. Ricky lay on top of me, catching his breath. He glanced up as something snagged his attention.
"Hey, TC," he said.
I craned my head back to see the cat, sitting there, staring at him.
"Probably not the best way to make his acquaintance," Ricky said.
"It's not you. I swear, the first night Gabriel stayed over, TC sat on the couch and stared at him all night. He's assessing the situation. Determining how likely you are to steal his food and his blanket."
"I'll leave him to his bed and find my own." He started to rise. "Your room's through there?"
"It is." I pushed up on my elbows.
"Uh-uh. I got you out of bed. Least I can do is get you back there." He scooped me up.
"Mmm, impressive," I said.
He laughed, and I reveled in the sound, the look in his eyes, relaxed and centered now. He carried me to the bed and set me on it while he stood at the side.
"You okay with me staying tonight?" he said.
"I'd be more concerned if you finished your booty call and scrammed."
"It wasn't a booty call."
"I know," I said, reaching for him. "I was teasing. Come to bed. Talk to me."
He stripped off his shirt and socks and slid into bed.
"You told your dad about us," I said.
"Yeah."
"And . . ." I touched the purpling bruise on his jaw. "He wasn't happy."
"Yeah." A pause, then his eyes widened as he made the connection. "No. He didn't--" He shook his head. "Definitely not. He's never laid a finger on me. That was . . ."
He took a deep breath and propped himself on his side, facing me. "We had some shit to do earlier. Territory issue. New guys. Not bikers--just punks with bikes who fancy themselves a club. They want territory, and they've decided, since we're the smallest club, they'll take ours. We've been trying to stomp them without causing serious trouble. Dad doesn't like trouble. It's bad for business. Anyway, we went to have a conversation, and the asshole in charge decided to come at me instead. He figured he had ammunition. That picture of us in the Post."
"Ah."
"Yeah. So he's trash-talking you, and usually I'm good at ignoring idiots. But he stepped over the line, and I went off on him. Hence . . ." He pointed at his jaw and lip.
"Bet he's feeling worse."
I smiled when I said it, expecting he'd joke back, but his eyes clouded. "Yeah. I . . . really went off on him. I'm not like that. I can fight, obviously. I have to. But my dad and I don't get into it the way the other guys do. Part of that's how we are, but part of it's a choice, too. Let the guys get down and dirty while we stay above that. We stay in charge. Never lose control. I lost it tonight."
I must have looked worried, because he hurried on. "In some ways, it probably helped. The guys respect my dad even if he doesn't mix it up. The old-timers have seen him mix it up, before he took over. Me, though? I've never done that, and I think some of them figure maybe I can't. The college boy. Smart, but . . ." Another shrug. "A little soft. So, yeah, they were impressed. My dad, though . . ."
"Is not impressed."
"Yeah. And considering what set me off? We didn't need to have our conversation after that. I should have told him about us. Finding out that way?" He shook his head.
"He's angry."
"Hurt, more like. Confused. It's always been just the two of us. Now here's this major change in my life that he knows nothing about, and if it was just some girl from school, he could figure I was working up to an introduction. With you? No such excuse. He knows why I kept it from him, too--because I thought he wouldn't like it. And he doesn't. He really, really doesn't." Ricky rubbed his mouth and paused before saying, "It's worse than I expected. He told me to end it. Not as my father. As the president of my club. He's . . . he's never done that before."
The look in Ricky's eyes told me Don wasn't the only one hurt and confused here.
"Okay," I said carefully. "So that means you have to end it, right?"
He shook his head. "He took that back. I think he was testing me. Seeing how serious I am about you. When I argued, he retreated, but . . ." He looked over at me. "My dad and I don't fight. We disagree, sure, but even that's rare. We've never had the usual parent-kid issues. This was an issue."
"Because of Gabriel."
Ricky nodded. "I know how bad this will sound, so bear with me. In a club, women aren't exactly equal citizens, as you've figured out. They can't be members. Even wives are kept out of club business. You're supposed to treat women well, and there's some serious old-school chivalry there, but that leads to a certain mind-set. Your woman is your . . ."
"Property?"
He winced. "I wouldn't use that word, but it's the gist. One thing you don't do is go after another guy's girl. Ever."
"I'm not Gabriel's girl."
"To my dad, you are. It doesn't matter if you're not sleeping with him. He brought you in. You're with him. Therefore you are off-limits."
"In case Gabriel ever decides he does want to sleep with me?"
Another wince. "In my world, you can be friends with a girl and not go there. Not for my dad, though. Either you are there or you're heading there."
"Otherwise, what's the point?"
"I know that makes him sound like a Neanderthal. He's not. When my mom got pregnant, he never expected her to drop out of med school and marry him. He offered to get married, of course, but he didn't expect a yes. He was just happy she was willing to go through with the pregnancy. He never asked for anything else from her. Never tried to deny her rights, either. A lot of the guys didn't get that, and he took some lumps for it. He lost a few members when he took over, because Mr. Mom wasn't their idea of a club president." He stopped and flushed. "I didn't mean to rant."
"You didn't. I understand, and as long as you don't consider me your property--"
He laughed. "I know how far I'd get with that. Booted out the door. With my ass kicked the whole way. No, I'm not my father. But as a club member, I have to follow his rules. After you came by that first time, and I knew I wanted to see you again, I made sure I wasn't overstepping. I talked to Gabriel."
"And said what? Hey, are you planning to hit that?"
He gave me a look. "Not in so many words, but yeah. That's not sexist, either. If you met a guy through a woman you respected, wouldn't you check to see if she was interested in him before making a move?"
"Point taken. So what exactly did you say?"
He shrugged. "I asked if you guys were together, and when he said no, I asked if he was heading that way. He said absolutely not. You're a client, and that's grounds for disbarment. So I asked if that would change when you weren't a client. He gave me that cold stare and said it was a professional relationship. End of conversation. Or so I thought."
"So you thought?"
Ricky rolled onto his stomach and propped up on his forearms. "Gabriel's . . . different."
"Really?"
"No shit, huh." He chuckled. "But he's different in a whole lotta ways. Our last lawyer used to come to the club, hang out with the girls, go home with the hangers-on. It was a perk of the job. Gabriel? Hell, no. My dad suggested it
once, and he got a very frosty no thank you. No girls. No drugs. Give him a drink, and he takes a few sips to be polite. Totally straight edge. He's driven and he's ambitious, and until he gets where he wants to be, nothing's getting in his way, including romantic entanglements. That means he's single-minded as hell. So when I ask about you, it takes a day or so for him to realize why I'm asking. He pops by the clubhouse on business. When I ask how you're doing, he pounces. He strongly advises against asking you out. We're both clients, and that would be problematic. Also, you're going through serious changes in your life and you don't need the disruption. I should steer clear."
"Bastard," I muttered.
Ricky seemed surprised by the venom in my voice. "Yeah, I'm sure you don't appreciate that, but on the other hand it means I may have overstepped after all. It gives ammunition to my dad's argument."
"No, it doesn't."
Ricky rubbed my bare hip. "Yeah, it kinda does. If Gabriel was that adamant about me not dating you, it could mean he really is--"
"He isn't." I told him about Gabriel's deal with James. When I finished, his mouth opened. Then it shut, and he shook his head.
"I'd say I'm stunned, but it's more like mildly surprised. Gabriel saw the chance to make a little extra on the side, and since it didn't hurt your case, it wasn't against your interests. On a professional level."
"Which is all that matters with Gabriel. The point is that your dad has zero reason to think you were overstepping. Gabriel was only guarding someone else's 'property.' If Gabriel still complains, it's only because us dating could add a mild complication to his business interests, which come first."
Ricky nodded slowly, digesting that. "That helps. On all levels."
"Good. Because I understand that the club comes first for you, and I won't interfere with that. But if we can make this work . . ."
"I'll make it work," he said and pulled me on top of him.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
When my phone rang, I surfaced from sleep, confused and groggy, thinking I heard a funeral toll, that slow dong that signifies a death. I leapt up, sleep falling away, Ricky stirring beside me. Then I heard the familiar tone of my phone. I checked it. Private caller.
I answered.
"E-Eden?" It was a woman, her voice pitched so high she sounded like a child. "Is th-this Eden Larsen?"
I tensed. Ricky touched my arm, telling me he could hear the caller.
"Where did you get this number?" I said.
"I-Is this Eden Larsen? Please. It's important."
"I don't go by that name, and if you're using it, you're not someone I want to speak to, especially at three in the--"
"Wait! Please, please, wait. He told me to ask for Eden Larsen. Get to this phone. Call this number. Ask for Eden. That's all I know." Her words tumbled out on a wave of panic.
"I'm hanging up now," I said carefully.
"No! Please, please, please." Her voice broke in a sob. "I only get this one call. It was programmed in. If you hang up, I can't phone back."
"Programmed in?"
"To the phone. I can't use any other number. I tried. I only get this one number and this one call. I have to speak to you and give you the message."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"Macy. My name is Macy. You don't know me. I don't know you. I was at a party with some friends. I left with this guy, and he brought me here and . . . and . . ." Her voice broke again.
"Okay, slow down. You said there's a message?"
"Yes. It's that you need to come find me." She paused. "You understand, right? You know what this is all about? Because I don't understand any of it." She hiccuped as she sped through the words. "Tell me this makes some kind of sense. That you know why he'd do this, and you'll come help me."
"Give me the whole message," I said, speaking slowly to calm her down.
"Call Eden Larsen. Tell her to come to this address. If she comes, I will let you go. I have information she needs, but she has to prove she's worthy of it. She must find you and she must save you. Then I will tell her the truth about her parents and her birthright. And if she does not come, I will--" Her voice cracked and she had to start again. "I will kill you."
"Where are you?"
She rattled off the GPS coordinates left for her. "So you'll come?"
"He sent you to that phone, correct? Meaning he isn't there right now. So how are you in danger? You can run for help."
"There's nowhere to run. I don't know where I am. There are all these abandoned buildings, and a cemetery. He's watching, too. He'll shoot me if I run." She paused. "You don't believe me. Oh God, you don't believe me."
She continued babbling. How cold am I if I admit I was ignoring her words and gauging her voice and her tone, trying to decide how genuine her plight was? Yet Ricky could hear, and he wasn't saying, Come on! We need to go help her! When I glanced over, I could tell he was assessing, too.
I made Macy go over her story again, in more detail. She'd been at a party. She'd left with a man. She didn't know who he was--it was a big party--only that he was alone and good-looking, and he'd singled her out for attention. They had a few drinks, and she was sure he must have slipped something in hers because otherwise she'd never just leave with him, especially without telling her friends.
He'd driven out of the city. She wasn't sure which way. They'd been talking and the next thing she knew they were in the countryside. He'd taken her to what looked like an army base, with lots of buildings. Then he'd gotten out and said he had to go inside and talk to someone.
After he'd left, she realized all the buildings were dark. When she'd taken a closer look at one, she'd seen boarded-up windows and doors. She'd just started to panic when a cell phone rang. It wasn't hers. She couldn't find hers. That's when she'd begun panicking for real. The phone kept ringing. She'd found it under the seat and answered. It was him.
He told her that she needed to follow his instructions and make a very important call. He gave her the directions and told her what would happen if she didn't do as he said. She started to scream. He hung up.
She'd tried to call 911, call anyone, but the phone was blocked. Hers was gone. The car keys were gone. She'd made a break for it. When she ran past the building she was supposed to enter, he shot at her, the bullet hitting the ground at her feet.
"It's--it's horrible in here," she whispered. "He left me a flashlight, but it barely does anything, and it's dark and empty and there's writing on the walls. Writing everywhere. Crazy stuff. I hear noises. I think it's only rats." A high-pitched laugh. "Only rats. I can't believe I said that. I hate rats. Bats, too, and they're everywhere, flying out when I walk into a room and--"
"Where are you now?"
"Inside. With the phone. He said if he sees me leave, he'll shoot me. I can only go when you find me. You will come, right?"
"Which building are you in?"
She told me, then continued, "He said something else, too. He said to remember Ciara. I don't know what that means. I asked him, and he wouldn't tell me, and--"
The line went dead.
--
I speed-dialed Gabriel. When the line connected, I hung up. What was he going to do? This wasn't a legal matter. I'd be dragging him into this. Forcing him to make decisions that weren't his responsibility to make.
I glanced over. Ricky hadn't said a word.
"We are awake, right?" he said.
"I think so."
"Hard to tell after that call." He paused. "Do you know what she was talking about?"
I hesitated. There was so much he didn't know. Most of which I couldn't share.
"Some of it," I said. "The name she mentioned. Ciara. She's the girl whose body I found while rescuing TC. Her death may have something to do with me or my parents. Gabriel's been helping me look into that."
"Do you want to call him?"
Yes. "This isn't a legal issue."
"Do you really think he'd tell you to handle it yourself?"
No. He'd come.
<
br /> I shook my head. "I've dragged him into enough trouble. Did she sound as if she believed she was in danger?"
"Yes. The fact that it makes no sense actually supports it being real--she'd dream up a better fake story. But even if she is in danger, it's almost certainly a trap, so . . ."
He trailed off, but I knew what he was thinking. Would I risk my life for a stranger? No. Whatever brand of heroism that requires, I don't have it.
I looked down at the GPS coordinates Macy had given me. Macy. She wasn't some anonymous victim. Even if she was, I don't think I could have ignored her.
"We can go check it out," Ricky said. "You've got your gun, and you've got me. I don't think whoever's doing this is expecting either."
"You don't have to--"
"You think I'd let you handle this while I go back to sleep?"
"We'll take my car," I said. "I want to explain more on the way."
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
While Ricky drove, I navigated and told him about Ciara, which wasn't easy, piecing the hole-ridden cloth into a plausible story. I told him about the body in the car, but I skipped the "head in the bed." That's where it seemed to cross the line to a potential legal issue for Gabriel, given that I'd had photographic proof and we didn't report it.
When I finished, Ricky just kept driving, despite me telling him to make a left. He got turned around and back on course before speaking.
"So someone put this girl's body in your car, wearing your clothes, dressed as you."
"And then, while I was inside waiting for Gabriel, the killer took away all the evidence. Which sounds completely crazy, so you can't blame him for thinking I was imagining things."
Ricky glanced over. "I'm sure Gabriel knew you weren't. I'm sure he told you to keep it quiet. I completely agree, and I'd expect him to do the same as my lawyer. I'll buy whatever story you sell me, Liv."
"I--"
"I know there's more to it. There are things about my life I can't share, either, because they could put you in jeopardy. I have secrets; you have secrets. I'm here for anything you want to tell me, but I'll never push. Fair enough?"
I nodded. "Thank you."
"So clearly that corpse was a warning. Clearly Gabriel is concerned, which explains him getting you that security system. But if you were in serious danger, something would have happened by now. Instead, it's do as I say or this Macy girl ends up like Ciara. Meaning he needs something from you. Something you can't give if you're dead."
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