Jackson (Mercy Ring Book 1)

“Ican do that, Mom.” River slid her hand beneath her mother’s, taking the kettle from her fingers.

Just like every other day since her brother’s alleged death, her parents’ house was completely silent. Nothing like it used to be. She hoped that her presence helped at least a little bit. That they weren’t completely drowning in their grief.

Her father was out with friends right now. Two days had passed since Ryker’s funeral, and it was his first outing. She’d basically had to force him because, otherwise, he wouldn’t leave the house. Neither of them would.

Her mother gave a small nod. “Thank you, honey.”

River filled the kettle with water and set it on the stove. When she turned back around, it was to see her mother still standing by the sink, staring into the living room, seemingly looking at nothing.

Her gut clenched. She hated seeing her mom like this. A shell of the woman she usually was. Usually, her mother was the most vibrant person in the room, buzzing around, talking nonstop about her garden, the weather, the neighbors…

River took slow steps back to her mother before placing a gentle hand on her arm. Even that seemed to startle her.

“Mom, maybe you should go have a rest. I can bring you a cup of tea in bed.” There had been dark circles under her mother’s eyes since the news about Ryker. She’d also lost weight. Pounds off her face. Her body. And she didn’t really have them to lose. “I’ll bring you something to eat as well. Maybe some of that soup Michele dropped off.”

A small frown marred her mother’s brow. And when she glanced at River, she almost looked as if she wasn’t actually seeing her. “Okay. Thank you, dear. That’s probably a good idea.”

Her mother walked out of the room, and every step the woman took had the fiery anger in her chest burning hotter.

It seemed anger was all she could feel anymore. Anger at Mickey for pulling Ryker into whatever shit he had going on at the club. Anger at her brother for doing this to their family. And anger at herself for getting involved with Mickey in the first place.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

All of it just fueled her determination to figure out what had happened and fix it.

Once the water had boiled, River prepared the tea and heated some soup. When she stepped into her mother’s room, pain filled her chest.

Her mother was asleep, but her cheeks were shiny from the tears she’d cried.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, River moved across the room and placed the tea and soup on the bedside table. Then, walking to the closet, she grabbed another blanket to lay over her mother.

River bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her mother’s head before whispering, “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll work this out.”

She meant that with every fiber of her being.

When she left the room, she closed the door softly. On the way back to the kitchen, River paused at Ryker’s room before stepping inside. Just like the day of the funeral, she ran her fingers over his dresser. His bed. When she reached the bedside table, thoughts of the number she’d found came to mind. She’d called it so many times over the last two days that she’d lost count. No one had answered.

She wasn’t going to stop, though.

Reaching into her pocket, River pulled out her phone and called the number again. It rang so many times that River almost hung up—until she heard a voice.

“What do you want and why do you keep calling me?”

For a moment, River was silent, so shocked someone had answered that words failed her.

The woman on the phone got louder. “Seriously? You harass me for two days and when I finally answer, you don’t say shit?”

River gave herself a mental shake, forcing words from her mouth. “Is this Angel?”

“Who wants to know?”

She wet her lips. “My name’s River. My brother is…was,” God, it felt wrong saying that, “Ryker.”

There was a short pause. And even though she couldn’t see the woman’s face, she almost felt her shock through the line.

“Angel?”

“Don’t ever call me again.”

The line went dead—and River sat there for a full five minutes looking at her phone, wondering what the hell she was going to do next.

River yawned. It was one of those eyes-half-shut yawns that had her wishing she could lay her head down and drift off to sleep.

God, you’re a grandma, River. It was one a.m. Surely every thirty-three-year-old should be able to stay up past one in the morning without falling asleep in their seat, right?

She must be the exception. Either that, or she was just exhausted. It had been midnight when her lids had first threatened to shut.

She glanced to the back exit of the nightclub, watching as a couple stepped outside to make out. And by “make out”, she meant have sex against the wall.

What was this, the eighth couple? Ninth? Who the heck knew? She’d lost count after five.

When the guy’s hand crept up the woman’s skirt, she dragged her gaze away. Ugh. Could the woman at least get a kiss before he started groping her?

Then she gave herself a little shake. Stop being a jealous cow, River. It’s not their fault you haven’t had sex in…

Well…a while.

Blowing out a long breath, she leaned her head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat. “Where are you, Kenny?”

She had no idea which shift he was working tonight—or if he was working at all. She’d only dated Mickey for a few months, and during those months, had spent as little time in the club as possible, so she had no idea of Kenny’s schedule. It seemed most bartenders finished anywhere from eleven to three thirty in the morning. Heck, he could have to work later than that, for all she knew.

She almost groaned at the thought. Please, baby Jesus, don’t let it be three thirty in the morning. She was pretty sure she’d be passed out with dribble running down her cheek by then.

She shot a glance at the copious amounts of candy wrappers on the passenger seat. Her weak attempt to stay awake.

“You guys have been no help,” she muttered. Other than giving her a bellyache, that was.

The plan was to trail Kenny back to his house and then ask—no, demand—he give her answers. That was a good plan, wasn’t it? It had to be. It was all she had. He knew something. She didn’t need to be told that to know it.

When her phone dinged from the middle console, she lifted it. Michele. Of course, it was. The woman had been messaging all night. Heck, all day.

Michele: Are you still waiting for him?

Her friend worried too much. Maybe she shouldn’t have told her about this amateur stakeout.

River: Go to sleep, Chele. You’ve got a lot of cooking to do tomorrow.

Michele: I can’t sleep until I know you’re home and safe.

She kept one eye on the back door of the club and the other on her phone. She could not miss him.

Michele: Also, I don’t know how he got my number, but Jackson messaged me, asking if I knew where you were.

She straightened.

He what?

The man had already called her phone earlier this evening. That same shiver of awareness had cascaded through her limbs at the sound of his voice. Then he’d asked… No, not asked, growled at her, demanding to know where she was, like he was her keeper or something.

So, obviously, she’d done what any normal person would do and hung up on him and blocked his number. She’d probably unblock him tomorrow. Maybe. Possibly.

River: You didn’t tell him, did you? Please tell me you didn’t.

Even as she typed the text, her eyes began shooting around the parking lot, expecting to see him storming toward her.

Michele: Of course not. You asked me not to tell anyone, so I haven’t and won’t. But I was thinking…maybe you should tell him what you’re doing. He could help.

She almost scoffed.

River: If he believed me—and that’s a big if—he would make sure I was as far away from this as possible. I can’t let that happen.

She absolutely wouldn’t let that happen. Jackson hadn’t been in this town for years or around Ryker for the last twelve months. She had. If anyone could solve this puzzle, it was her.

Michele: Just think about it. And text me when you get home. xox

Her friend wasn’t going to sleep. Which was probably fair. She wouldn’t sleep if she was in Michele’s position, either.

River: I will. x

Sighing, she turned her gaze back to the door. Mr. and Mrs. Lovebird were still going at it. God, all she wanted to do was march right past them and into the club to demand answers.

Yeah, because that worked out so well for you last time, River.

She shook her head. Mickey had basically laughed in her face and told her to get lost.

She hadn’t. Of course she hadn’t. But then, he’d known she wouldn’t because he knew all about her temper. It was a similar temper to his own.

He’d had his big goons on standby, and the second he flicked his fingers, they’d grabbed her and all but tossed her from his office.

She grit her teeth. And what had she done? She’d stormed right into the middle of a fist fight that had broken out in the club. She touched the healing bruise on her eye. At least it was fading.

Memories of how Jackson’s expression had darkened in anger when he’d seen it flashed in her mind. He’d always been like that. So quick to want to fight her battles. And silly teenage River had mistaken that as a sign of his undying love.

Stupid.

She hated thinking about that last night before he’d left. Remembering how vulnerable she’d made herself. How open. It hadn’t been easy. In fact, it had taken every little bit of courage she’d possessed.

And what had Jackson done? He’d stomped all over her heart and walked away. Left town. Not ever returning. Not until now, of course.

That wasn’t love. It wasn’t even close to it.

She was just scanning the exit again when she finally saw him. Kenny.

Her hands went to the wheel, grabbing it tightly as he walked across the lot to his car.

Yes.

Scrunching low in her seat, River watched him slide into his car. The second he started the engine, she started hers. She had no idea how to trail someone while remaining hidden, but heck, it couldn’t be too hard, could it? And Kenny had once told her he didn’t live far from the club, so it would be a short drive.

He pulled onto the main road. It was empty, so she slowed, keeping as much distance as she could between them. Every turn had her holding her breath, praying she didn’t lose him.

Kenny had worked at Trinity Nightclub for over a year. He’d also been the only staff member who was nice to her while she dated Mickey.

She needed answers. Why was he at her brother’s funeral? Why was he now avoiding her?

Kenny turned the next corner, and when River followed, she barely had time to slam her foot on the brake, missing his car by the smallest fraction.

The driver’s-side door of his car opened. Kenny stepped out, and he looked…angry.

Crap.

River hurried to get her seat belt off and climbed out.

Kenny’s hand went to his waist, like he’d been about to reach for something, before quickly dropping back to his side. “River? What the hell are you doing?”

She stepped closer. “Please don’t be mad. I just want to talk.”

“So you follow me home?”

Her gaze flicked back to his waist. “Wait, you don’t have a gun, do you?”

His jaw tightened. “You need to go home. Don’t follow me again.”

When he turned, River ran, rushing in front of him and barricading the driver’s door. Maybe it was stupid. Okay, not maybe. Definitely. The guy was clearly armed, and just because he’d been nice to her once upon a time didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt her.

But desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Please, just tell me what you were doing at Ryker’s funeral. Was my brother spending time at the club?”

He ran a hand through his hair, staring at the road in frustration. “River—”

“Please, I need…something! Anything.”

His eyes shot back to her. “Yes, he spent time at the club. But that place is dangerous, and you need to stay away.”

Knew it! “What was he doing there?”

“Leave it alone, River.”

He reached around her for the handle but she slid to the side, blocking him. “Please, Kenny!”

Kenny’s voice lowered, and a sliver of unease slid down her spine. “I’m not joking. You need to stay the hell away from this. I liked Ryker. That’s why I went to his funeral, to pay my respects. But you can’t let anything going on at that club touch you.”

Before she could respond, he shoved her aside roughly, got into his car, and sped off.

For the first time since receiving that call from her father, a little trickle of doubt weaved its way into her mind. Doubt about Ryker still being alive. About what she’d seen in her house the night he’d supposedly died.

And with that doubt came something deep in her chest that started to ache.

Immediately, she pressed her hand there and her eyes shuttered. No. He was alive. Because if he was dead, she’d know. She’d feel it.

Swallowing the doubt and crushing the pain, River opened her eyes and marched back to her car.

The entire drive home, Kenny’s words rolled over in her mind. He was wrong about Ryker being dead, but the rest…her brother had been going to the club. That much was confirmed.

Now she had to figure out why. It had to be something dangerous, like Kenny said, if he refused to tell her.

It was always on Friday nights when Ryker disappeared, returning with bruises. What happened at the club on Fridays?

Suddenly, something came back to her. A memory from her time with Mickey.

The basement.

On one of the rare occasions she’d gone to the club, she’d seen people going down there. Lots of people. And she was almost certain that night had been a Friday. When she’d asked Mickey what they were doing, he’d told her not to worry about it.

Something in her gut told her that basement was where she needed to go. That was where she’d find answers.

She couldn’t just rock up to the club again, though. Mickey hadn’t said the words, but she knew he wouldn’t welcome her back with open arms. She’d need another way in. She never wore makeup or skimpy clothes like the women who frequented the place, but maybe if she tried to blend in, she could get past at least the door security undetected.

She needed to sleep on it. Let the idea sift through her mind.

She pulled into her driveway, stepped out of her car, and moved toward the front door. The key barely touched the lock when the large figure of a man suddenly appeared beside her.

River screamed, but the sound cut off in her throat when she saw who it was.

“Jackson! What the actual hell?”

His eyes were narrowed. “Where have you been?”