That’s intriguing. Maddox is arrogant and menacing at times, but also sweet. He looks the part of a villain with his onyx hair, wintry eyes, and neck-to-toe tattoos, but that seems to work for him. Although I also have an inside glimpse of the Noire family. They’re different with each other than they are with others.
And Maddox is currently spinning a Karambit knife around—part warning, part entertainment. Maybe there’s a valid reason he’s on her list.
“Cathartic,” I muse.
“You have no idea.” While still a tad brittle, that’s the most upbeat she’s been. “You should try it, but ease into it with a list of questions. Not answers. That comes later.”
“Questions?” I parrot. “What kinds of questions?”
“Start small. Maybe why Ryker opened an employee day care when he did, after putting it off for years, or more importantly, would the answer matter to you?”
The implication thunders with the bass of the music, but it’s one I’ll likely ignore. While I’m an avid researcher, I’m not in the habit of asking questions unless I’m prepared to accept the answer. Even as a lawyer, I’m aware it’s sometimes advantageousnotto know. And every cell of my being tells me this is best left untouched. But it couldn’t hurt to find out if she has the goods.
“Do you know the answer?”
“Me?” She pops her shoulder, plucking our empty glasses from the table and sliding off her stool. “I just work in the tattoo and piercing boutiques. What would I know? And like I said, I don’t fucking gossip.”
RYKER
“She asked about Monroe and her parents. She knows something. I want every word, every damn sentence the two of you ever fucking exchanged the past three years.”
Ty maintains his calm demeanor and reiterates the bullshit he’s been spewing for the last ten minutes of this phone call. “As I’ve said, if she knows something, she hid it from me too.”
“And me,” Ivy chimes in on the line. “Has Monroe contacted you since the trial?”
The former governor, Monroe Montgomery, is Dalton’s father. He is a semi-decent man who had a fucked-up son. When Dalton killed Hailey, Monroe panicked and helped him cover it up. Disgusting? Yes. But Dalton had fed him a sob story about it being a terrible accident, and people do twisted shit for their kids.
When Monroe discovered Dalton was a repeat offender, he turned him in. After a bit ofconvincing. He ultimately saw it as choosing his grandson, which is the only reason he’s still breathing.Thatand my need to approach everything in a manner that wouldn’t send Mercy further into hiding.
“No. And he won’t.” An unsettled twinge skitters down my spine. I’m about three seconds away from burning down New Orleans so there is nothing and no one left for Mercy to worry about. “I’d expect him to resurface in about fifteen years. But he’s getting older, so I wouldn’t count on that being an issue.”
There is no way in hell he’s ever coming near Mercy or Remy again, so by the time Remy is eighteen, Monroe will be six feet under. Grace has an expiration date.
Jax taps my shoulder with a silent admonishment to stay still for him. We’re in his art room, which is rich and eclectic and adorned with every shade of blue in existence. It’s his oasis in our residence and our private studio for him to bestow our ink and piercings with discretion.
“If you aren’t flipping out about him, do you think she’s aware of the information in the black book?” Ty asks. “Is that your concern?”
“Fuck, I hope not.” I clench my jaw, anxiety rattling in my bones enough that Jax has to stop again, but he’s almost done, and I need to finish this damn conversation. “She’s asking weird questions and not talking to me like she used to. I have no goddamn idea why or how to fix it. But I would think if she knew … it would destroy her.”
Ivy hums for a beat, evidently gearing up to hit me with an unpopular opinion. “I think it might hurt her more if she finds out you’re hiding it.”
A disgruntled groan leaks out of me as the tattoo machine buzzes against my ribs. “Yeah. I’d bet on that.”
Ty clears his throat. “On that note, it’s technically classified, so for her own protection, she needs to be in that position with Axel for—”
“She’s already vetted by the fucking Noires since she’s been employed here forthree years,” I interrupt, “so don’t feed meany of that KORT bullshit right now. Get me some goddamn answers.”
“Working on it.” His voice has little inflection with that, but enough for me to sense the impending request. “Rena wants to see her.”
This time, Jax is the one who bristles, though he pulled away in time, which is good because he won’t appreciate my answer.
“Not now.” My teeth grind as everything collides. “Since she and Ivy and the rest of your family have a fucking madman after you, willing to infiltrate our resort in pursuit and fuck knows what else, you keep her locked down until you get a name. I cannot deal with both of them—”
“Okay,” Ivy coos, like she does when she’s handling me—we’ve been close friends ever since she gave me the tip that put Dalton behind bars. “We’re safe, Ryker. There have been no other issues. We’ve got Rena, and we’re working our way through your members. We’ll figure it out. Just take care of your family.”
“Will do.” I end the call, unable to stomach another second of that discussion, and close my eyes while Jax finishes up.
Mercy and Remy have been here just over a week. I’ve stepped back, hoping she’d be drawn to seek me out. Unsurprisingly, that’s not how it’s turned out. There was undeniably some heat between us that first day, mingling with our secrets and wounds. I could have pressed it, but it was obvious she wasn’t thrilled about any desire she had for me, and I didn’t want to frazzle her before she started working with Axel. Instead, I poured myself into bonding with Remy and encouraged her while giving her space.
