Page 41 of Riot's Thorn
I lift my hand, moving in on the gray one since the white one’s red eyes still weird me out. “I just touch it?”
Riot huffs, which is probably the badass killer version of a chuckle. “Yeah, Thorn. You just touch him.”
“The gray one is Ben?”
“Yeah.”
Ben seems to sense my intentions. He holds perfectly still as I drag a finger down his back. I giggle. “He’s so soft.”
“Does are softer. Touch Amy.”
With my newfound confidence, I gently scratch behind her ears, the way I’ve seen Riot do. Her fur is downy soft, like touching a cloud. “Sheissofter.”
Riot makes a clicking sound, and they run back to him, lining up to accept more food. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You said you figured out what you were going to do with me. What does that mean?”
Instead of answering, he stands and walks across the room to the little table by the front door with a single drawer. On top is a bowl where he ditches the contents of his pockets each day, and the drawer is where he keeps his gun. He made a show of making sure I knew it wasn’t loaded, so I haven’t even thought about going after it. There’s also the fact that I have no idea how to operate a gun, and much to my dismay and surprise, I like Riot too much to kill him.
Apparently, he keeps more than the gun in there because he removes something else. Something so small, I can’t see what it is. Seconds later, he’s back in his spot, holding his closed fist out to me. I’m dying of curiosity as I hold out my open palm and wait for him to drop it.
No matter how many guesses I could’ve made, I still wouldn’t have guessed what drops into my hand. Yellow gold glints in the overhead light on its way down, and at first, I’m confused. A ring? What would a ring have to do with anything? Then, I take a closer look and recognize it immediately. A two-carat kite-shaped diamond with hand-engraved milgrain around accent diamonds outlining each point of the center diamond. The gold band splits into two smaller bands that twist on each side. It’s so distinctive, I can confidently say this is Mom’s engagement ring.
“Why do you have this?” I ask, pinpricks stinging my eyes.
“It’s your answer to everything.”
“I don’t understand. This is my mother’s.”
“Is it? I think that makes this even more meaningful,” he says.
“Enough with the games, Riot. What are you talking about?”
“We’re getting married.” No inflection. No emotion. No hint that he’s playing a joke on me. He’s serious.
Oh, hell no.
“I’m not marrying you. Are you insane?” I jump to my feet. “Seriously, Riot. Are. You. Insane?”
“I don’t think anyone whodoes what I dois right in the head, but that has nothing to do with this.”
I fold my arms, gripping Mom’s ring so tight, the corners of the uniquely-shaped diamond cut into my hand. “What have I done or said that makes you think I’d want to marry you?”
“Nothing, but it’s still the best way to keep you safe.”
“Like hell.” I flop down on the couch. “I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. I want my simple life back. I want to go to college, hang out with my friends, and go on dates with nice guys. I want to have dinner with my dad on Sunday nights and not know what a disgusting piece of shit he is.”
“What makes a guy you date ‘nice’?” His thumbs move across the top of his tattooed fingers, pressing down to pop each knuckle.
“That’s what you got out of everything I said?”
“It’s the only part of what you said that interests me.” When he doesn’t get a response, he huffs. “If you’re married to me, you have the club’s protection, and Bart will leave you alone.”
“Are you even hearing yourself?” I emphasize with my hands. “You can’t make someone marry you. This isn’t some mafia romance novel.”
“I don’t know what that means. Bart isn’t mafia, but he does have ties to a lot of organized crime factions.” His lack of emotion only amps my own up to unreasonable levels.
“So Bart gets word I’m not missing, he sees the ring on my finger, and suddenly, he doesn’t care about what I may or may not have seen or what I may or may not know?” I pace the room, unable to sit still. This is absurd, and it’s driving me mad he doesn’t think so.
