Joker by Andi Rhodes

Chapter Fourteen

^{Regardless of my motives, I’m simply not ready.}

Joker

Aboxer.

A stalker.

No ex-husband.

Lie after lie after lie.

All of the facts about Riley rush through my mind as I pace the length of my porch. I knew she wasn’t who she said she was but to have it confirmed? I’m not quite sure how to feel about it. What I do know is I can’t keep the information to myself.

I jog down the steps and make it about a hundred yards before I turn around and go back. I’m furious with Riley but I can’t leave her alone, not now. I shove open the front door and stop in my tracks when I see her sitting on my couch, head in her hands. The sound of her crying douses the flames on my anger, but only a little.

“C’mon, Black Bird,” I bark from my spot just inside the door.

She jumps at the sound of my voice but doesn’t turn around to look at me and makes no move to get up. I heave a sigh and walk to stand between the table and her. Her body is trembling, fear riding her hard.

I tip her chin up with my fingers and force her to look at me. “I know you’re scared but you’re gonna have to tuck that shit away and come with me.”

“Where?” she asks as she sniffles.

“I can’t exactly keep your lies from the club, now can I?” When she narrows her eyes at me, I continue. “I’m going to the clubhouse. And as furious as I am with you, I can’t very well leave you here. Not with that threat in the mix.” I nod toward the box with the dead bird and the piece of paper sitting on the couch next to her.

Riley pushes my hand away and swipes at the tears on her cheeks. She takes several deep breaths before she stands and squares her shoulders. I can’t help but admire the way she seems to push her emotions to the side so they aren’t controlling her.

She doesn’t say a word as she steps around me and walks out the front door. I quickly pick up the box and note and follow her, yanking the door shut behind me. I catch up with Riley and fall into step beside her. Neither of us speak for several minutes and oddly enough, the silence isn’t awkward. And then she breaks it.

“Did you kill her?”

I stop walking. “What?”

Riley stops a few feet ahead and turns to face me. “Your mother. Did you kill her?”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” I demand.

Riley’s temper flares and she throws up her arms. “Because you hate her, because you’ve threatened to do exactly that, and because you strike me as the type of person who would kill their mother and not give it a second thought.”

I take a step toward her and she retreats a step. I let my gaze dip low and then lower still. Her stance screams ‘stay the fuck away from me’ but her eyes are full of questions, of possibilities.

“Are you really afraid of me, Black Bird?” I tilt my head. I have no intention of letting her assessment of me go but I’m not quite sure how to address it.

“Of course not.” She shifts on her feet.

I take another step forward and her body tenses, but she doesn’t retreat this time.

“I think you are,” I taunt, lowering my voice.

Riley averts her eyes. “Answer my question.” When I don’t, she lifts her head. “Please.”

“Why?” I close the distance between us and my heart begins to pound. “Why does it matter so much to you?”

“It doesn’t.”

“Oh, but I think it does.” I bend to set the box down and when I straighten, I grip her arms. “Wanna know why I think that?”

She nods.

“I think it matters to you because, despite your fear of me, you’re depending on me to keep you safe. I think I’m your last option and you know that the second you step off this property, you’re a sitting duck.” I grin without humor. “I think, Black Bird, that if I killed my mother, your perfect little illusion of safety disappears because if I’m willing to take the life of the woman who gave me mine then what’s to stop me from killing you?”

I thrust shaky fingers through my hair. Riley’s eyes shine with unshed tears and it eats at me. But why? Why the fuck do I care?

Riley turns and starts walking again. The more distance she puts between us, the more I feel the need to call out to her, to answer her stupid question. Finally, I give in to the urge.

“I didn’t kill her,” I yell.

I pick up the box and jog toward her. She doesn’t acknowledge me in any way until I step in front of her to block her path.

“Did you hear me?” I growl.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“What?” she snaps. “Do you need an ‘atta boy’ for not killing your mother? A medal? Maybe a cookie would make you happy.”

“Forget it.” I grab her arm and practically drag her along beside me. “We need to get to the clubhouse. They won’t wait forever.”

The rest of the walk passes in a blur. My mind races trying to come up with a reason my mother’s fate matters so much to her, with reasons why I care. When I step through the front door of the clubhouse, I shake off my frustration and push it all out of my mind.

“It’s about damn time,” Fender barks when we step into the bar area. “Next time you want to call a meeting, make sure you’re actually ready for it. We don’t have time to sit and wait on you.”

I swallow the sharp retort that’s sitting on the tip of my tongue. This meeting isn’t going to go well and the last thing I need to do is upset my president even more.

I urge Riley toward the bar where Widow and Charlie are sitting. “Stay with them until I’m done.”

She yanks out of my grasp and trudges toward them without responding to me. I narrow my eyes as I watch their interactions. It’s not lost on me that Riley’s expression shifts when she’s no longer in my presence and she actually appears… relaxed.

Probably one more of her fucking lies.

“Joker!”

I whirl around and look at Fender. “What?”

“Let’s go,” he orders and then walks away from me.

I glance at the box in my hands and shake my head. This should be fun. I make my way to the meeting room and drop my weapons in the box when I enter. Before I’m even able to take my seat, Fender calls the meeting to order.

“Joker, the floor is yours,” he says as he sits down.

Rather than sit, I remain standing and dump the contents of the box on the table.

“Jesus Christ,” Piston grates out. “What the hell is that?”

I glare at him. “What the hell does it look like?”

He flips me off. “Fine. I know what it is but where did it come from?”

“Wait,” Greaser demands. “That’s the package that came for Riley, isn’t it?”

I nod. “There was also a note.”

I hand it to Greaser and as he skims the words, his shoulders tense and his scowl deepens. I wait patiently for all of the brothers to have their turn with the paper and when it makes its way back to me, I launch into the reason for the meeting.

“Riley isn’t who she says she is.” Narrow-eyed stares pin me. “Rather than an ex-husband, she’s got a stalker.”

“She fucking lied?” Greaser’s tone is sharp, angry. He doesn’t tolerate lies, not even a little bit.

“She did,” I confirm. My hands ball into fists at my side and I take a deep breath. “Not only does she have a stalker but she’s also a boxer.”

“So that’s how she maintains the sinful body,” Riker says with a snicker.

Jealousy snakes through me at his very accurate assessment. I know it’s crazy, but I don’t want anyone else to notice her… not like I do.

“Not the point,” I snap.

“Right. Got it.” Riker grins.

“Can we focus on the problem?” I shout, pounding the table and making everything on the surface jump. “I don’t give a fucking shit about her body. How the hell are we going to keep her safe?”

“We’re not,” Fender answers matter of factly, drawing my glare. “What? She lied. She brought her bullshit to our door. As far as I’m concerned, she’s not our problem.”

“I’m with Fender on this one,” Greaser says. “She lied. End of story.”

This is not how I saw this going. And if I’m being honest with myself, it’s not what I want. I know I’ve resisted Riley and I haven’t trusted her since day one but there’s this feeling, this thought that I can’t shake. I’m not ready for her to leave.

Maybe because if she leaves, you’ll have to focus on Cheryl. That’s all this is. Nothing more.

Regardless of my motives, I’m simply not ready.

“I can see by the look on your face that you don’t agree.”

I look at Fender, trying to gauge his words, find the meaning behind them. Which is nuts because there is no hidden meaning. Fender says what he wants, what he’s thinking. He hides nothing.

“No, I don’t.” I look around the room, taking in all of my brothers before returning my attention back to Fender. “We’re in this, whether we like it or not. And we’re in this because you put us there.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“When Widow brought her home you were quick to jump on helping out,” I remind him. “If you’ll remember, I didn’t want her here, but you believed her. You’re the one that agreed to give her shelter. And made her my problem.”

“You better watch your to—”

“I’m only doing what you wanted me to do!” I shout. “I finish what I start. Besides,” I nod to the note on the table. “This guy’s clearly a pussy. He writes like a fucking chick. He’s not a threat to the club.”

Fender stiffens and his eye twitches. He’s furious with me, I know that. But right now, I don’t give a shit.

“Fine. But she goes in the Nightmare Room until we can sort this out,” he orders. “At the very least, she needs to be shown that we don’t tolerate lying.”

An image of my mother lying on the concrete floor enters my mind. Fuck!

“Uh, Prez,” Greaser begins. “We can’t put her in there.”

I whip my head around to look at Greaser, as does Fender.

“Why not?”

Greaser’s eyes shift to me but only for a split second. “I’ve got a dealer down there,” he answers Fender. “Punk was caught trying to sell on our turf.” He shrugs. “I’m teaching him a lesson.”

Fender’s eyes narrow but he seems to accept Greaser’s explanation before looking back to me. “Riley stays with you. Do not let her out of your sight. I don’t trust her. Understood?”

“Understood,” I say, relief flooding through my system.

“Anyone have any objections?” Fender asks everyone.

A chorus of ‘no’s and shaking heads is the only response.

“Good. We’ll meet again in two days, see where things stand.”

“Church is adjourned,” Piston says and bangs the gavel.

I go to the door and grab my weapons out of the container, flipping open my pocket knife as I return to the table. I stab it into the dead bird and toss it into the box it arrived in. I lift everything into my hands and turn back toward the door.

Greaser is standing there, arms crossed over his chest, feet braced apart, and a giant scowl on his face.

“What?”

“Don’t,” he says and shakes his head. “You know what.”

I sigh but say nothing.

“You need to get Cheryl out of there, you know that, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Look,” he relaxes his stance. “I know there’s bad blood there. I know she’s an evil cunt who took you away from us when you were little. But your dad got you back. You’ve had the life you were meant to have. Whatever her reasons for reappearing, sort it the fuck out and get rid of her.”

Greaser is right. To a degree. Cheryl did take me when I was young, away from the only home I knew. And yes, my father and the club got me back. I can’t deny that. But what he doesn’t know, what no one knows, is what took place in between those two events.

“Joker, I mean it,” he says when I remain speechless.

“I’ll handle it.”

“Good.” He turns and walks through the door but stops and looks over his shoulder at me. “You’re not doing yourself any favors by keeping shit bottled up, bro. If you won’t talk to me, or any of the brothers, you should at least think about talking to someone.”

With that, he disappears, leaving me to ponder… everything.