I sat at the desk in my study, my back to the door, the phone in my hand.

Riley had left twenty minutes ago to drop off Carly at school, and she was due back any minute. Last night, I’d promised her we’d talk, that I’d tell her the truth, and despite my better interests, I’d do it. Even if it drove her away.

But I had business to attend to first.

My buddy, Clint, had left me a voicemail late last night. Notified me about this Marcus cat and warned me about his growing circle of lackeys. He’d sounded ominous, out of breath, and had left me a contact. The contact had given me Marcus’s cell number. Which was a bad sign—Clint was a damn professional. If he’d given me the number, that meant that it was out of his control.

Which made me suspicious in itself. If what Johnny had said was true, the Riders had an insider in the cops. But how high up? And would it be a problem for me?

“Shit,” I muttered. There were too many questions, too many variables, and right now, I had too much to lose.

I unlocked my screen and typed in the number, hit dial.

It rang three times, then the line clicked, and there was silence.

I didn’t make a sound, simply waited.

“You’d better have a damn good reason for calling,” a deep voice spoke down the line. “This is a private number.”

“I thought you didn’t care much about privacy,” I replied. “How are you, Marcus?”

Another awkward quiet. “Who is this?”

“You don’t know? I would’ve thought you’d have my number by now. You’re the new president, aren’t you? Usually men in your position have the power to do whatever they like.” It was kind of fun, toying with him like this. Men like Marcus, the high-ups in the Crimson Riders, believed they could do whatever they wanted, when they wanted it. That the world was their oyster in the sense that they’d take the pearl and leave the oyster to die in the sand.

“Who are you?” Marcus replied, through gritted teeth.

“I want to say I’m your worst nightmare, but that’s so cliché.” I exhaled and gripped the arm of my chair, staring out of my window at the vast back garden, the pond and the trees overhanging it. “It’s Roman Washington.”

Shit, it was weird speaking that name. I hadn’t used it in years, and I’d never planned on having to again, after Janine had—

“Well, what an honor,” Marcus said, slick, now, his voice rasping. “The man, the myth, the legend calling me. To what do I owe the call—wait, let me guess, you’re getting scared for your safety, am I right? For your daughter’s safety.”

“Leave my daughter out of this,” I replied.

“Why would I?” Marcus asked, chuckling now. “When she’s clearly what you care about the most. Tell me, Roman, do you really think you can keep her safe? Little Carly. She’s such a sweetheart. I hear she looks a lot like her mother.”

I bit back on anger, shaking hard from having to do it. “I’m warning you,” I said, “you and your ass wipes. Stay away from my home and my family, or you’ll regret it.”

Marcus actually giggled. “I’m sorry, we’ll regret it? We will? The Crimson Riders?” The mirth died. “You listen to me, Roman, you’re about to pay your debt, whether it’s by blood or by money. I don’t know what you think you know about the Riders, but everything’s changed. There’s a new man in town, and I’m going to tear this shit up.”

“Nice villainous monologue,” I replied. “Did you write that yourself?”

“I’ll write a bounty on your head, motherfucker!” he snapped.

It was my turn to laugh, even though it was flavored by rage. By fear for my daughter’s safety. “Back the fuck off,” I said, “or your operation will go down. Get it?”

“That’s hysterical,” Marcus snorted. “Is that why you called? To try to threaten the most powerful man in San Antonio? You got a brain, for now, use it, Washington. You threaten me again, and you’ll lose your tongue.”

“Motherfucker, I was in the Crimson Riders before you knew they fucking existed.” A door creaked behind me, and I spun in my chair, half-expecting one of the riders to charge in and attack.

But it wasn’t a rider.

It was Riley, back from dropping off my daughter. She stood with her hand on the doorknob, her mouth dropped, the car keys still in her hand. Morning sunlight crept through the window, up and over her form, illuminating the silver chain at her neck, the earrings, her gorgeous, pale skin, and the look of utter horror on her face.

I hung up the phone and placed it on the desk, spinning fully toward her, now. I rose, placed my palms flat against the wood. “Riley,” I said.

“What the fuck?” she asked, letting go of the door handle. “What the fuck was that? What the fuck? You’re a part of the Crimson Riders?”

“Riley, calm down,” I said.

“Calm down?” She took a faltering step backward, raising her palms. “Are you—? This has to be some kind of sick joke. You’re one of them? Is that why you contacted me? Oh Jesus, do you work for them? He put you up to this? To everything? To the app?”

“No,” I said, firmly. “Stop jumping to conclusions, Riley. It’s not what you think.”

“Not what I think,” she repeated, shaking her head, her long dark hair swishing in its ponytail. “Not what I think? I think you’ve been lying to me. Is that about the size and shape of it?”

“No, Riley. I haven’t been lying. I was going to tell you all of this, this morning. I’m not a part of the Crimson Riders, OK?”

“I heard you,” she replied, tears welling in those hazel eyes, but not spilling over. She was too strong for that, even now, confronted with what was probably her worst nightmares. “You’re one of them.”

“No,” I snapped. “I’m not a goddamn Rider. I used to be. I was part of the group a long time ago, but not anymore.”

“Right, because it’s so easy to leave an Outlaw group. Oh my god, I’m dumb. I thought this was something special.” She’d backed right up to the railing now, bumped her back into it, reached back and grabbed it to steady herself. “But it was all some scheming of—”

“Riley, if you just stop talking for one damn moment, I can explain all of this to you, and you’ll get why it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing more, nothing less.” I couldn’t lose her now, couldn’t let her run out of here when there were wolves at every corner, every turn.

“No,” she said, and pushed off from the railing. “No, no, no, no. I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this.” She made for the stairs, and I dashed forward and caught her before she could run off.

“Wait. Wait and listen. I can make you understand.”

“Let go of me.” She ripped at my fingers with her own, tearing underneath them, frantic to be free. She was clearly freaked, in no shape to talk, but I had to make her understand.

“Riley, I would never do anything to hurt you. You have to know that. None of this has been fake, and I’m not a part of the gang anymore. I haven’t been for years.”

“Liar,” she said, and finally wrenched her arm free. She rushed down the stairs, grabbed her handbag from the entrance hall table, and her car keys, and rushed for the door.

“Riley!”

“Stay away from me. Stay away.” She slipped out of sight, and the front door clanged shut behind her.

The sound reverberated in the quiet. “Fuck.” I’d meant to handle all of this morning, finish up with Marcus before she got home, talk to her calmly, rationally, explain everything before she could freak out, then get to work.

But that was out the damn window, now. I had to figure this out before it was too late. The Riders had already identified her as part of my “family,” and they’d target her when she was at her weakest, exploiting me in the same stroke. Endangering everything.

I can’t lose you now, Riley. I won’t.

And I couldn’t handle her believing that everything that’d happened between us, from Halloween all the way forward to now, had been nothing but a trick or a trap.

“Riley,” I yelled, as the car started outside. I launched myself down the stairs and for the front door, I ripped it open and stormed out onto the porch, just as her red Nissan took off down the street. “Riley!”

I ran down the path and into the street, a few steps after the car, but it was already too late. She was gone. She wasn’t coming back.