Page 102 of Riot's Thorn
“Of course he will.” I don’t know if it’s true, but we could all use a little hope.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RIOT
Ipull up to the security gate at Bart’s mansion, Rigger, Mustang, Dutch, Satyr, and Lucky behind me. A guard wearing a black suit steps out of the booth. He tucks his hands in his pockets, a move meant to show me he’s strapped. Like I give a fuck.
“Sorry, guys. Mr. Banks isn’t home this evening. I suggest coming back?—”
He doesn’t get to finish because I pull my Glock from behind me and put a bullet right between his eyes. He falls to the ground with a satisfyingthud.
“Goddamn it, Riot.” Rigger pulls out his cell, making a call. “This pool party is getting wild. At least one in the water so far, but Riot has on his bathing suit, so there will probably be more. We’re gonna need some towels.” Pause. “Yeah, thanks.”
I throw down my kickstand, enter the booth, and push random buttons until the gate opens. Jumping back on my bike, I don’t wait for Rigger to scold me again. My girl is gone, and I need answers.
After spending hours sifting through security feed, we found the singular minute it took someone to scream shooter and fire off a blank. Within seconds, they had Parker, dragging her outthe back door only the DJ of the night uses. No one heard her cries or paid attention to her struggling; they were too concerned about getting out.
We never saw the face of the person, but we got the license plate on the van he put a limp Parker in—whatever drug he used was working by then. Initially, the license plate was a dead end because it was stolen. Then, we looked into who reported it stolen—one of Bart’s employees.
That was all I needed to know, and an hour later, we were on our way here.
I haven’t even thrown my kickstand down again when a guard is rushing from the house, talking into a black box on his shoulder. His words are cut off when my bullet goes through his open mouth and out the back of his head.
“For fuck’s sake, Riot,” Mustang says. “Can you leave at least one person alive to question?”
“Dude, that’s just wrong.” Lucky shivers dramatically. “Look at the way his jaw is hanging. That’s gonna give me nightmares.”
“Her.” I point to a woman standing in the open door. Her hand is covering her mouth, and her eyes are comically wide as she looks down at the man on the stairs. “I’ll leave her alive for a while.”
Guards come running from all directions, and bullets start flying. My brothers take cover in the bushes, drawing attention away from their bikes. If their babies take heat, I’ll be joining the long line of body bags coming out of here.
Covering the woman’s mouth, I push her inside and shut the door. “How many people are inside?”
“Please don’t do this. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“What I want is to know how many people are in here. Don’t make me ask you again.” I keep hold of her as I walk through the entrance, clearing rooms as I go.
“Just my housekeeper, but she’s on the third floor and won’t be down for hours.”
“You better not be lying.”
“I’m not. I swear.” No sooner have the words left her lips than a woman comes from around the corner and startles.
“I fucking hate liars.” Aiming, I fire into the woman’s thigh. She’s wearing a uniform, so clearly, she’s not involved. It was a through and through. Rigger can’t get pissed; she’ll be fine. Both women scream bloody murder. “Might want to take off your belt and wrap it above the wound to slow bleeding.”
“That’s my chef. I forgot she was here preparing meals.”
“I suggest not forgetting about anyone else because the next person won’t be so lucky.”
“You’re a monster.”
“It’s good you recognize that about me. It’ll make this easier.” I shove her past the bleeding woman, who’s still howling in pain but doing as I suggested and removing her belt. Once I’ve cleared the rest of the ground floor, I shove the woman down into a chair and point my gun at her head. “Where’s Parker?”
She holds her hands up, looking terrified. Dressed in cream slacks and a baby blue silk blouse with her hair styled in perfect curls, she doesn’t strike me as someone who knows what her husband does and allows it, but I learned long ago to not judge on appearances.
“I don’t?—”
I lower the barrel of the gun and shoot her in the foot. “What did I say about liars?”
